Recom Quaritch X Reader - Blog Posts

To Ask So Casually - Miles Quaritch x Female! Reader

word count: 1284

Pairing: Recom! Na'vi Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Recom! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: R18 - minors DNI!, fluff, smut, mutual lewd touching, bonding, pure filth little plot

Author's Notes: Based on the prompt - "how would the recoms react to their fem recom s/o wanting them to ✨️casually✨️ rub their clit that leads to maybe some mutual touching/masturbation 👀"

*by clicking read more you understand the contents herein are for adults only*

“Can you come over here and rub my clit while I read?”

The question comes off so casually, he has to do a double take.

You’re on the bed, dressed only in a singlet and underwear, propped up on the pillows as you continue reading the book in hand, eyes never leaving the pages.

Miles had just emerged from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel around the waist. He had been rummaging through his clothes for a top to wear when you had posed the question so nonchalantly.

“You wanna run that by me again?” He asks with an eyebrow raise and a smirk, arms crossed. His tail flicks up at the prospect of excitement.

“You heard me.” He admires your ability to be so straight faced, but the slight twitch to your mouth does not go unnoticed, nor the flick of your tail too.

“Just wanna make sure I heard ya right is all.”

You lift your eyes up to meet his head on, half lidded and beckoning. You teasingly lick the tip of your finger to turn a page, eye-contact unbreaking.

“Well? I’m waiting…”

His smirk widens as he leisurely makes his way to his side of the bed.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

You feel the dip in the bed as he slots himself into your side, trapping your left arm between you two. He nestles his head into your neck as he looks at the book held in your right hand.

“Whatcha readin’?”

“A romance novel. It’s getting rather steamy.” You turn the book toward him slightly.

“That right? Why don’t you read it out loud for me.”

“Alright…”

Miles places a hand to your chest, resting over a mound. The warmth of his palm seeps through the thinness of your top. You lick your lips.

“His touch burnt her in a way most delicious. Hands dragged along the smoothness of her skin. He pinched and squeezed, pulling moans from her depths…”

Quaritch hums into your ear, his hand gripping your breast as he massages the supple flesh. He drags a finger slowly to trace your areola in a lazy circle. You inhale sharply when he switches to his thumb, slowly rubbing over your nipple till it poked through the fabric.

“H-he held her firmly in each hand, massaging her to attention; deft long fingers pinching, sending flits of fire down her spine…”

Quaritch pulls, stretching the fabric down till it sat snug under your breast, exposing you to the chilled air. Wet warmth envelops your perked bud as he takes you into his mouth. You let out a muffled whine when he gives your nipple a hard suck, tongue lapping at you in-between each slurp.

His hand presses firmly into your flesh as he makes a slow trail down your abdomen toward the apex of your legs.

He pops you out of his mouth, pressing a wet kiss to the side of your exposed bosom.

“Go on sweetheart, I’m aaaaall ears…”

You try hard to concentrate on the words, but his mouth is once again on you, devouring your flesh with practiced ease, feeding the flame burning in your loins. You casually throw one leg over his, the other bent at the knee.

“His-his mouth left burning kisses down the plains of her flesh. Lower did he travel, su-sucking her skin harshly, leaving a trail of p-purple flo-flowers. Till f-finally, he came upon her--!”

His hand cups your sex, fingers pressing firmly to your folds. The suddenness interrupts your dictation, and you let out a content sigh turned moan. Slowly does he glide his fingers over your clothed heat, wetness slowly seeping through the mailable fabric.  

He moves to press his face into your neck, hot breath tickling your skin.

“Don’t get distracted now darlin’, it’s just getting good too.”

He scrapes his fangs along your skin, tracing the path with his tongue.

He slips his hand down the front of your panties, causing you to suck in a sudden breath.

And when his finger finally finds your aching clit, you hum with desire, biting your lip to stifle a moan. He spreads your wettened lips, using his middle finger to rub languid shapes upon your bud.

“F-fuck—Miles—!”

“Ssshhh baby. Continue readin’ for me.” He commands.

But you can’t. When you look upon the words, they seem hieroglyphic, illegible. You’re stuttering worsens as you desperately try to speak.

Your head falls back onto your pillow when you feel one finger press into you. Eyes screwed shut, your mouth falls open in ecstasy, pitch perfect moans spilling from your lips.

He gathers your slick on his finger, spreading it along your folds, it makes it easier to glide his finger over your throbbing clit.

You feel his hot throbbing cock press into your thigh as he starts slowly humping you; his towel having since fallen to the wayside.

“Hmmm—Miles!” You moan his name breathlessly, the heated coil tightening in your loins.

“Aww, you done reading for me?”

“Fuck the damn book.” You toss said book somewhere unseen, focusing attention instead on your burgeoning pleasure.

You feel Quaritch smirk against your skin. He gives you a soft bite, playfully nipping at your neck.

“You always did have such a way with words.”

Fed up with his teasing, you reach for him, grabbing his dick in your left hand. He growls from somewhere deep in the back of this throat. The sound excites you all the more.

You turn your head and catch his lips in a bruising kiss. Teeth and tongue, your kiss is a slobbered mess of unbridled passion.

You grab your queue with your free hand, moving it over your body. You break away from the kiss.

“Miles—”

“I got you.”

You whine when his hand leaves your needy heat, but bite your lip as you quiver with anticipation, watching him grab his own queue. You lick your lips as the purple tendrils entwine. Your pupils dilate as a new found, yet familiar euphoria engulfs you and him.

You return your hand to his cock, squeezing tight as you pump your hand along the length. He starts fucking into your hand, in time with your movements.

Encouraged by the sweet sound passionate mewls of fervour, his fingers quicken in their caressing upon your clit. He inserts two fingers into your pussy; your gummy walls sucking in the digits greedily. His thumb rubs your clit as his fingers massage the spongy flesh of your inner walls. His speed and swiftness, coupled with the delectable filth whispered into your ear pushes you off the proverbial cliff.

Your orgasm sets your body alight after such an appetizing build up. The hand on his cock squeezing that much tighter as you writhe in ecstasy.

“Fffuuuuckk yeeesss!” Quaritch moans as he fucks himself to completion, cumming against your thigh. You give him a few lazy pumps, smiling when you feel his body judder from over stimulation.

Once the pleasure subsides to a dull throb, you turn on your side, throwing an arm around Miles’ mid as you snuggle yourself flush against his front. You throw a leg over him for good measure. His arm goes around you, pulling you even closer, mindful of the bond.

He places a kiss to your temple, eliciting a small giggle from you.

It is then you feel his cock, once again hard and at attention, rubbing against you still sensitive folds.

You head snaps up to look at him, eyes widened.

He looks down at you, a sideways smirk on his lips.

“What, you didn’t think were done, did you?”

You lick your teeth, eyeing him back with heady need.

---

Tags: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww @grimistangel @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @ducks118 @graysonmalik2550 @p9scal @ohshititsfenharel @ourmurdermessiah @cocoaflare @sarcasticrandy @liyahsocorro @olivia-the-weirdo

What Do I Tell My Friends Family - Masterlist

Pairing: Human/Recom/Navi Miles Quaritch x Female! Na'vi! Sully! Reader Tags/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, rare pairing, possibly dark content, smut, adult themes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, lust, older man x younger woman, under age reader (16), degradation, nsfw, dubious consent, dirty talk, orgasm, orgasm denial, foul language, choking, vaginal fucking - each chapter will have it's own tags

Author's Notes: Am I going crazy? I can't find the masterlist for this fic so I'm making a new one. Seems like it just *POOF* disappeared! Someone let me know if I'm just blind >_>

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

--- Tags: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww

Revenant - Chapter 1

word count: 4392

Pairing: Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Wife! Reader Warnings/Tags: None

Chapter Summary: You discuss the mission a bit more in depth, and visit someone very important to you.

[Masterlist] - [Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

In Tenebra Fidemus - In darkness we trust. In Luce Vigemus - In light we thrive.

---

“Do you have any questions, [Y/N]?” James throws the last file into the fire. He assures you information will be clearer and more readily available once you touch down moon side.

“What of communication? How long is the delay to reach Earth?”

“Ah. You’ll be pleased to know that the Superluminal Communications used by the RDA allow for instantaneous interstellar communication between worlds. And naturally, we have set up our own private networks.”

Your eyes widen slightly at this. You had thought communication took as long as the commute; 6 years. You are happy to be wrong.

“There is a drawback, however, in that you can only send three bits of information per hour, and at the cost of $7,500 per bit. So do keep it as concise as possible, won’t you? And only when necessary.”

“Of course, James. Who shall be my contact on world? What of supplies? Gear?”

“Your on-world Handler shall be a woman by the name of Paz Socorro; a pilot with SecOps. She will be responsible for meeting any and all of your needs. Now in regards to your cover…”

James retrieves a thin black folder from his desk, handing it to you.

“You have two options. One – you will arrive as a Magistrate of the Interplanetary Commerce Administration. It is by their hand that the RDA has a monopoly on Pandora and the export of her resources. You will be there to oversee that the RDA adheres to the strict rules set by the ICA, less their monopoly be revoked. You will be given complete authority over the entire base in this instance; thus you shall be able to move about unhindered. We will also assign Miss Socorro as your personal pilot for the duration of your stay. The downside here is that, by being in such a position of authority, you will have eyes on you constantly. You may also encounter resistance from some personnel in both SciOps and SecOps.”

You nod quietly as he explains further.

“Two – you will be a bioengineer, sent at the behest of the RDA to work alongside Grace’s team. You will be researching ways to utilise the planets flora and fauna to combat disease, prolong human life, perhaps chemical warfare if you feel so inclined. We will forge the necessary scholarly documents as required. In this position, you will be far more inconspicuous; just another member of the SciOps team. However your interactions with Miss Socorro will be lessened, as we cannot guarantee she will always be your designated pilot in the field.”

You nod, crossing your arms as you consider the two options.

“What would you suggest, James?”

“Honestly? Option one. I believe it will make your life easier. No one will question your decisions, and even if they perhaps did, you may simply ask them under who’s authority do they operate. Anything you do, can be under the guise of the ICA’s interests, and never will you have to explain your reasonings. Conversely, you may use your position as a bioengineer to gain access to invaluable research on deadly fauna and how it could be used to eliminate your target. Either way worry not; you needn’t give your answer just yet. You have until tomorrow night to come up with the decision.”

“Tomorrow evening. A shuttle will collect you from your apartment at 2300 hours.”

‘That soon?!’ That left you barely any time at all to tie up any loose ends here on Earth. Without any true way to estimate the length of time you’d spend away, you wanted to make sure you left nothing behind undone.

“Time is of the essence my dear. Here, some light reading for you before your long slumber.” He hands you a book detailing the Na’vi language; aptly named the same.

“It’ll be lonely without you here…Try and come back in one piece won’t you? In Tenebra Fidemus.” He half bows with a hand flat on his heart.

“In Luce Vigemus.” You mimic his gesture. “Thank you James, for all you have done for me and mine. I will not disappoint.”

“I know...Good luck, [Y/N], and stay safe.” He places a firm hand on your shoulders, and you look up. Your eyes meet piercing silver. You commit his face to memory; the thick grey mop of hair he keeps styled back, the wrinkles strewn on his face, the crookedness of his mouth and the crease in his eyes when he smiles. Time has been unrelenting, aging him like fine wine.

He is old, you realise, and you suddenly ponder if he’ll be there to greet you upon your return. A round trip would be over a decade, and that’s without factoring in time spent planet side. The realisation sits heavy on your heart, for you now are certain this is perhaps the last time you shall see your father figure. Although he was the one to pull you into his dark world of blood and shadow, he still did more for you than your birth parents ever did.

You jump at him, wrapping your arms around his mid, burying your face into his chest. By sheer force of will you do not cry, but your shoulders shake still.

Words remain unspoken, unneeded, as he wraps his arms around you in turn. He knows precisely what you’re thinking. He holds you for a moment not yet long enough.

“Go. Before I try and change your mind.” He gently pushes you from him. You take his hand, squeezing the back of it to your cheek. Your eyes meet once more, and with a final determined nod, you turn and briskly walk out of the suite.

You don’t look back.

---

Descension was no less easier.

Your new mission weighs heavily upon your mind. You have faced dangers untold and hardships unnumbered in your pursuit of betterment. But to be pulled nearly 4 and a half light years away? Unthinkable. Inconsiderable.

But of course you had agreed; in actuality, there was little choice to be made. Denying would look poorly upon both you and your handler for a start, and you were not about to tarnish the reputation of the man that essentially raised you. More importantly, you thought of your dear brother, Tom.

As smart as he was, he was not built for combat. He was decidedly the smarter twin. Academically gifted , the man was inundated with PhD honours. He deserved the safety of his books, the certainty of walls and structure. What kind of sister would you be then, if you let his gentle soul venture into these uncharted wilds, leaving him at the mercy of this xenosanctuary?

Thus your choice was clear; you must accept the contract. You gave yourself a secondary mission then; eliminate all who would threaten the safety of your brother. From the lowest grunt, to The Director themself; no one would be spared your golden stiletto blades.

Family above all else.

---

A shuttle awaits you as you exit the premises after a quick shower and wardrobe change. You inform the AI of your destination, and with monotone acceptance, you’re off into the skies.

A song you don’t recognise plays, but you enjoy the feeling of the dark bass as it pulses through your bones.

Far off in the distance, thick grey clouds reach up towards an unseen sky. Deep orange cuts through the effervescent neon sea; the remnants of your last mission set ablaze.

You peel your eyes from the scene, dragging your gaze over the city below. Flashing lights, dancing holograms. The people move as one; a single living organism splintering itself into every nook and cranny, invading the dark crevices below.

And somewhere in this hell of concrete spires and minds of metal, your two brothers reside.

---

Tom’s apartment complex resides somewhere in the nicer part of town; if you can even call it that. The shuttle drops you off at a designated landing zone, several floors above where you need to be.

The moment your heel touches down, you’re off in a hurried gait. You become one with the crowd, pirouetting through the sea of warm bodies, avoiding their touch as you weave through. The air is thick, laden with the stench of garbage, street food, and something sickly sweet.

You pay no mind to the AI holos that vie for your attention, their faux voices disappear into the background as you press forward.  Advertisements in a language you don’t understand lick at your ears from all directions, drowned only by the sound of the locals around you; drunks arguing with any who look at them wrong, the not so sound of mind and their unintelligible ramblings, users openly abusing on the streets, even the faint moans wafting on the air from dark corners unseen.

You hate this cesspool of debauchery and sin. But time and time again, your brother refuses your offers to live with you. Your apartment is high in the clouds, far away from the lower dregs of society. It would be much safer you insisted, pleaded, but your brother is as stubborn as you are deadly. He doesn’t want to rely on you, wants to be able to stand on his own two feet. An intellectual prodigy, you often wonder if common sense was perhaps lost on him. Never the matter, you had him under constant surveillance. Thanks to your connections, the criminals operating in this sector know the resident of this apartment is off limits – no exceptions.

You arrive to his front door. With your knuckles, you perform a rhythmic set of taps; a secret signal to let him know it was safe to open, and whom to expect. You hear hurried footsteps from inside, a loud thump followed by muffled cursing. There is the distinct sound of things being knocked over, followed by more footsteps, and the fumbling of several locks. The door is wrenched open, and you are greeted with the flushed face of your beloved brother.

“[Y/N]!!!” He exclaims, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you into a hug. You return it with equal enthusiasm.

“Tommy! Sorry, did I come at a bad time? I hope I didn’t wake you.” You step into the apartment, closing the door and reengaging the  multitude of locks.

“No not at all! I’ve just been going through some of my notes from my dissertation.” He busies himself with picking up scattered papers and books strewn along the floor; no doubt the result of the scuffling you heard before. You make yourself comfortable on the couch.

“Don’t you already have a PhD?”

“Yeeeeees, but one can never be over prepared! Grace Augustine is a world renowned Xenobotanist and Xenolinguist. I have to cover all my bases if I want to impress her!” Your heart melts and your expression softens when you see the twinkle in his eye, and hear the fire in his voice.

“Tommy – you’ve already impressed her. You start training next year! I’m sure she’s just as excited for you to get there, as you are.”

“Maybe you’re right…” He gives you a shy smile, a small huff of a laugh leaves him as he rubs the back of his head. His expression morphs to confusion though as he gives you a thoughtful look.

“Hey, it is pretty late...What did you come by for? Not that you’re unwelcome or anything! It’s just, you know, later than usual…”

You cover your mouth as you giggle at his fumbling.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry! It’s good news actually!”

Tommy ceases his cleaning, and comes to sit beside you. He faces you, giving you his undivided attention.

“Soooo you know how I have that government job that I’m under strict contractual obligation to not divulge, under any circumstance, to anyone, ever?”

“You mean the very suspicious career that Jake and I are both convinced is actually you working as a high-class escort for the billionaires that run the world? Yes, please do go on.”

You make an offended gasp, but laugh as you playfully punch him in the arm.

“AAH! No! Stop! I’m sorry! I bruise easily!”

The two of you are in a fit of giggles as you continue to shove each other, which then devolves into the two of you grabbing couch cushions and start wailing on one another.

Tom holds up his hands in surrender, yielding to your superior strength. The conversation resumes once the two of you become calm once more and the laughter dies down.

“As I was saying—I’m being shipped off-world for my next big project.”

“Oh? Which colony are off to? Somewhere in the Zeta quadrant?”

You shake your head. You let him fire off a few more guesses, enjoying the frustrated look slowly developing on his face as he wracks his brain for an answer.

“Try something a little closer to home. Something you might one day be, intimately familiar with, as it were.”

He stares at you, brow furrowed with confusion.

Realisation then hits him, eyes widening.

“Noooooo…”

“Yeeeeees,” there is a tease in the tone of your voice as you nod with a widening smile.

“[Y/N]! Are you serious?! This is amazing!” Without warning he has you trapped in another hug, vigorously swaying side to side.

“I have so many questions! When are you going? What will you be doing? Will we be at the same RDA base? Is the government giving you your own Avatar? Have you been practising the Na’vi language? Have you even started? Would learning it even be beneficial to whatever it is you’re doing there?! What—”

“Tom!” Both of your hands are immediately cradling his head. It shuts him up instantly.

“Breathe bro. You know damn well I can’t answer, ANY of those questions! Ah well, except I’m actually getting flown out tomorrow night…”

“Tomorrow?! That’s so soon…” Tom grabs your hands in his, slowly lowering them to his lap. His eyes are cast downward. You can see his pupils shifting rapidly as his mind races with unknown thoughts.

Quickly his on his feet, releasing your hands. He sprints off into his room without a word. You call after him.

“Tom…?”

“One sec!”

After a few minutes, he’s right back in front of you, cradling a small black box.

“I was gonna wait till your birthday to give this to you—but seeing as I won’t see you for a few years…” He holds the box out to you.

The material is soft velvet, smooth under your skin. You let out a faint gasp when your eyes see the contents within.

A small pendant of silver, fashioned into the shape of a rose, with a ruby fastened into the centre; tied to a thin silver chain.

“Tom, it’s beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.” He gives you a self-assured smile, clearly quite pleased with himself. You turn around and he helps fasten it around your neck. It sits comfortably just below your clavicle.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“I know…But I wanted to give you something special, now that I can afford to. It’s made of platinum by the way, so it’s nice and durable.” You wordlessly nod, putting the small black box into your jacket pocket. Tom grabs both your hands in his, holding them up in the space between you two.

“…Listen. You always took good care of Jake and I, ever since…Well you’ve acted not only as our big sister, but also filled the shoes of mom and dad. And you know what? I’m happy it was you there, and not them. Seeing you work hard, coming home at ridiculous hours, but still finding time to spend with us? It must’ve been hard, having to grow up so fast…But you were always smiling—Hell I don’t remember you ever complaining, even when we were being brats for no reason…You’re one of, if not, the strongest person I know.”

There comes a painful throb in your chest, the soft silk of his words wraps itself around you, squeezing. Your eyes glisten with the promise of tears, but you hold steadfast to your emotions.

“Look, all I’m trying to say is, thank you. Thank you, for taking care of me. Without you, I wouldn't have gotten all those scholarships, wouldn’t have had the drive to get my PhDs, and probably wouldn’t be sitting in front of you right now. So, my beloved big sister [Y/N], thank you for being my family. I love you.”

And the dam breaks.

You crash into him, hugging him with all your might. Tears flow freely down your face as you wail uncontrollably. Hearing him say those things, suddenly makes everything you have done, everything you have sacrificed, worth it all. There is an almost indescribable feeling that washes over and through you. It brings about a peace you hadn’t known you needed. It was a reassurance that your brother was going to be okay—his future was secure, thanks you both yours and his efforts; all in spite of the rough start you had in life.

“TOOOOOM!!! IT’S OKAY!!! I’D DO IT ALL AGAIN FOR YOU GUYS!!! I LOVE YOU TOOOOO!!!” You bawl out, still crying.

Tom laughs as he pats your back.

---

“Here, just TAKE it. It’ll give me peace of mind!” You hold out your spare apartment keycard. He sighs at your antics.

Some time after you had finally calmed down, you brought up the idea that he should live in your apartment while you are away; look after the place as it were. He wouldn’t have to pay rent, as that was covered by your job, and it would be in a safer neighbourhood. Still he fights you on this. You pout at him, puffing your cheeks.

“You owe me for making me cry!”

“Oh my GOD fine! Give it here!” He grabs the card, and immediately you face turns to a victorious smile.

“Good. I’ll be gone by tomorrow, so you can start moving your stuff in the day after.”

Tom nods but stifles a yawn at the same time. You cast a glance at the clock on the wall, realising the time.

“I should probably head off then, it’s getting rather late, and you clearly need your beauty sleep.”

He swats your arm playfully, and calls you something in a language you don’t recognise as the two of you make your way to the door.

“What did you just call me?”

“Ha! It’s Na’vi for ‘moron’. Even if you don’t need to learn the language for your job, I suggest you do. Because even if we’re not at the same base, you better believe I’m going to annoy you every chance I get! Even if it has to be over comms.”

You roll your eyes at him as you undo the various locks. With the door open, you turn to your brother once more. You pull him into one final hug. This time the two of you remain quiet as you embrace.

Your stomach flips, an uncomfortableness settles deep within. This goodbye feels far too final, and you do not like that.

Hesitantly do you remove yourself from his embrace, taking a small step back and out into the cold.

“I’d say goodbye, but that doesn’t feel right. So, I’ll see you later?”

He gives you a confident smile.

“Yeah…See ya later [Y/N]. Have a safe trip home. And a safe journey too. Keep Pandora warm for me.”

With a tiny wave, you turn and slowly start the ascent to the shuttle bay. Before you disappear behind the next flight of stairs, you turn to meet his gaze once more. The two of you share one final wave and an exchange of smiles.

He knows you won’t move first, and so you watch him disappear safely behind his apartment door.

---

The penthouse is dark when you arrive. You remove your shoes, leaving them in the entryway. Your hands glide over the walls as you meander into the living room, collapsing on the couch.

You lay there for a few moments, idly playing with the pedant on your chest. You can feel sleep tugging at the recesses of your mind, threatening to take you in a moments notice. With a grunt you sit yourself up. You know you have to call Jake now; you’ll be far too busy tomorrow.

You heart feels heavy in your chest as you think of him. He was deployed into active service in Venezuela a few months back, and contact with him is few and far between. The odds of him picking up are unlikely, but you attempt to establish a connection anyway.

It rings and rings, but there is no answer. The AI offers for you to record a video message.

You sigh in defeat, saddened that you would not be able to speak with him before you leave. For you it would feel like days, maybe weeks till you spoke with him next. But for him, he’d have to wait 6 years before he hears from you again. Guilt gnaws away at you, but the situation is out of your hands. Despite your pleas, he was insistent on joining the marines. He was more adamant than ever once he was accepted and started their rigorous training.

Often he would call you all hours of the night, once he retired with his fellow recruits to their bunkers. And even though he looked battered and bruised, his smile was toothy and genuine. The comradery of his fellows made known as they always invaded his personal space when he was chatting with you.

“Yooo Sully!!! Aye, bro! Is that your missus?!” The face of a stranger pushes against Jake’s as they try and get a better look at you on the comm pad in his hands.

“No you dick—that’s my sister! Urgh, [Y/N] this is Waitara. Waitara, this [Y/N] my SISTER.” You hide your mouth behind your hand as you let out a soft giggle.

“Hiiii Waitara. I hope you guys are taking good care of my baby brother?”

“Ayyyye, I promise, we’re taking good care of this one!” He puts one arm around Jake, giving him a noogie in the process. You once again laugh at your brother’s annoyed reaction as he tries to swat the other man away.

“Well then you have my deepest thanks Waitara.”

“Aww Miss! You can just call me Matiu, means ‘Gift of God’—”

“OKAY Romeo that’s enough! Stop trying to flirt with my sister!” Jake interrupts Matiu with a hard shove to the side. You can hear him laughing at Jake’s expense off camera. You faintly hear him call out to the others, Jake rolling his eyes, and before you know it, you’re being introduced to the others; much to Jake’s annoyance.

You on the other hand are all smiles and laughter as they inundate you with embarrassing stories of Jake, plus variations of “Miss Sully! Look what I can do!”

You smile at the memory, but remind yourself you need to record this now lest you fall asleep.

You hit the button to begin the recording, and your image appears on the screen.

You give an enthusiastic wave to the camera and a wide smile.

“Hi Jake! How are you doing? I hope everything is uhh, as good as it can be…” Your smile falters when you realise the man is in active duty, not training. He could very well be on the battlefield right now, under enemy fire. You bite your lip to stop yourself from over-thinking. Unlike Tom, Jake was always a fighter. Where Tom excelled academically, Jake excelled physically. His confidence was easily backed by the strength of his heart, and the strength of his fist. You shake your head and continue.

“Urgh sorry. I know you’re on active duty right now and it probably sucks…But I have some good news! Uhh, though whether you think it’s good remains to be seen…Anyway! You know my job, government, classified, NDA yadda yadda. Well! I have been given a big new assignment to take on…And for it, they’re going to be shipping me off-world! It’s gonna take me 6 years to get there cuz it's about four and a half light years away…I was hoping to speak with you before I leave, but I guess the universe has other plans huh? I’d tell you where, but, ya know. NDA and all that…”

Unfortunately you couldn’t really speak of where you going, nor elude to what you were doing. Tom was also under restrictions in regards to his future work with the Avatar Program. The only reason he spoke of it to you was, one, you are his big sister and he was always going to spill the beans to you, risks be damned. But two, your ‘government job’ meant you were well entitled to be privy to such information. At least that’s how you spun it to him.

“Oh! I just came back from seeing Tom, look what he gave me, isn’t it pretty?” You lean in closer to the camera, showing off the pendant.

“Said it was for my upcoming birthday…” You go quiet again, but only for moment.

“Listen Jake. I don’t know how often, if at all, I’ll be able to get in contact with you once I touch down. It’s a pretty remote place, and the work I’m doing…Look I don’t want you to feel like I’m abandoning you here on Earth while I go, chasing the stars or whatever. Everything I do, I do for you and Tommy. I love you guys, so, SO much. You’re my precious baby brother, and there isn’t anything in the entire God damn galaxy I wouldn’t do for you. I hope you know that… I love you Jake. Please stay safe out there. Come back to me in one piece? Love you, and I’ll see you later…”

You hit stop on the recording, sending it in one go.

There is so much more you want to say, so much more you feel you should say. But your emotions are running high, and you feel so utterly drained from everything that has happened, compounded with your worries for the future.

With conscious effort you drag yourself to the bedroom, changing into you usual sleep attire.

You move to throw yourself onto the bed.

You’re asleep before your head even hits the pillow.

---

[Masterlist] - [Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

---

Author's Notes: And so the adventure begins. Thank you to @mechformers for her constant support and feedback! <3 Apologies for grammatical errors, hope you all enjoy this first step.

---

Fic Tag List: @sofiebstar @winxschester @yhern05 @an0th3rsss @gamerxpfighter @to-earth-from-the-sun @exulqnsisxthoughts @sweetirilly @wolfgirl497 @thebeckyjolene @goddesslilithmoriarty @the-anjos @bitchykittenconnoisseur

---

Perma Tag List: [Interactive Post] alternatively reply below if you want to be tagged just for the story

@mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww @grimistangel @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @ducks118 @graysonmalik2550 @p9scal @ohshititsfenharel @ourmurdermessiah @cocoaflare @sarcasticrandy @liyahsocorro

Ma Miles - Ch. 18

3.5k words

Content warning: Mention of drowning, mention of getting shot with arrows

Pouty kitty!! A little bit of a smaller chapter today, but that's because another one drops tomorrow again. We're moving forward in this story and it's going to be a very rough ride for a little bit before ruffled feathers gets smoothed out again lol

(If you want to be tagged with the updated chapters, please leave your @ myusername in the comments!)

Previous chapter | Masterpost | Chapter 19 - Coming soon

Standing on the receiving end, watching as you leave with their son, is unlike any pain Miles has ever felt before in his relatively short and long life. Screw getting shot by Mrs. Sully’s arrows dipped in neurotoxins, screw Sully and the chokehold he had on him as he slowly but surely drowned him. Compared to this anxious fear that was crawling up inside of him, that had been like a walk in the friggin sunny park. For a moment, how he had ended up in this exact situation strikes him with blinding clarity. He had never meant for any of this to happen, never meant for Sully’s son to get caught in the middle of their war, yet, a child had almost died and it had partly been his fault. 

The bile that followed the realization didn’t sit well with him. A part of him growls angrily inside of his mind, demanding that he ‘pussy up and put a pad on it’. Yet, that part of him lay crushed to dust in the jungle somewhere far, far away from here. He was not that man, that’s what he had claimed the entire time, but when push came to shove, when Sully had been within his grasp, Colonel Miles S. Quaritch was exactly who he had become. By some kind of miracle, he had managed to stop the tulkun hunt just in time before Scoresby sent the explosive-tipped harpoon into the animal. The shadow of your soul-crushed expression brokenly staring up at him with horror had entered his mind, making his entire body clench up, as if panic-stricken. He remembered mumbling something as he pushed the harpoon upwards to the skies, as far away from the animal as he could get it, before demanding that they stop the hunt altogether. From there, Sully would get the message and still be able to save the animal. 

Sighing deeply, he realized that he had screwed up royally. He should have never taken Spider from your arms, should have never burned the villages, or ordered Lyle to shoot that chief’s animal. He should have listened to you, should have taken your lessons to heart instead of just playing happy house while closing his ears to Ardmore’s nagging. The woman, although outranking him, had no tactical sense whatsoever. Miles was not stupid. Upon waking, he had gathered all the intel he could on the General, pulled some strings, and called in even older favors. What he had found was unsettling, even to what remained of Quaritch’s personality inside of him. Ardmore was ruthless but sloppy, her work was efficient when successful, but disastrous when failed. 

It wasn’t as much the failed missions that worried him though. Ardmore had given him a promise inside of her office, one he no longer had any doubt that she would hesitate to fulfill once she got a hold of you. How he was supposed to keep you safe was beyond him. With the way his body ached, he wouldn’t be able to defend either one of you anytime soon. The chances of the village protecting them were slim at best. They were primitive people after all. Once Ardmore set her mind on something, he feared it would rival that of Quaritch himself. The chance of the two of them coming with him was even slimmer. He had no claim to Spider, even though you had accepted him as Spider’s father. The memory of your voice brokenly ringing through the hut pulls him out of his mind for long enough to assess the situation before him. 

‘You do not deserve them,’ 

The claim cut deeply, although knowing you, it was probably not meant to. The despair and heartache you had displayed took him by complete surprise. With every emotion pouring off of you, you let yourself be vulnerable without appearing weak. In fact, he had never seen a more powerful display of strength in his life. You had spoken the truth, even though it had obviously hurt you on a personal level. 

The little mama was right, of course, though even admitting as much to himself didn’t come easily. Spider had gone with her willingly, and why wouldn’t he? She had been there for him his entire life compared to him. Sure, he had been dead for most of his kid’s life, but what did he do once he actually found his son back in that jungle? Kidnapping. Coercion. Manipulation. And hey, what do you know; kidnapping again. 

Shaking his head, Miles clenched his jaw so tightly the force behind it threatened to break the bone. The pain brought a newfound clarity with it, clarity that he had needed so many times in the past few months. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he squares his shoulders. Even though he never intended to hurt the children, using them as pawns in a game of war, just to get to the Sullys, had been beneath him. Looking up from his own pity party, he notices how Mrs. Sully doesn’t fare much better than he does. He recognizes the shame and frustration, her anger at him lingering just behind her eyes, as if smoldering embers waiting to ignite. But for the moment, he couldn’t care less what Mrs. Sully felt. Not when there were more important things to focus on.

The way you had just walked out on them, on him, threatened to make him spiral into a panic he didn't even want to acknowledge. Being ashamed didn’t fit into his life, didn’t clash well with his personality, in all honesty. Yet, when you had told them - told him - that they were unworthy of calling themselves parents, that they didn't deserve their children, he had only felt shame at the way he already knew it to be true. You were going to leave him for real if something didn't change soon, were going to turn your back on him and walk out of his miserable life like everyone else had. If he was being honest with himself, which apparently was the theme of today’s schedule, he didn’t understand why you hadn’t already left. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected it to happen. Everyone left him, that was just the story of his life. And maybe you would be better off if you did. But then again, if you hadn’t found a partner in all the years since adopting Spider, what was to say you would now? 

Closing his eyes and sighing deeply, he already knows what he has to do. Although it pains him to the very core of his soul, Miles steps up to Mrs. Sully, noting how her eyes darken with wariness as she scowls up at him, the grip on her knife tightening instinctively as he comes to a stop before her. The tension in the small hut is thick enough to slice with a knife, Sully and the big chief ready to pounce if he even breathed wrong. 

“She is right,” He starts slowly, his Na’vi not as good as he wished it to be, but by the shocked silence in the hut, he must’ve said it correctly enough. “I should not use the children on you,”

The sentence is chopped and slow, and he’s certain that he worded it all wrong when the hut remains silent, the Sullys’ expressions that of bewildered owls gawking at him with open ears. Growling his frustration at his own laziness, Miles slowly raises his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, praying for patience. 

“I shouldn’t have used the children against you,” He repeats, in English this time, “I apologize.”

“I understood what you said, demon, I am not slow like you,” Neytiri hisses back way too fast before continuing in English, “I will not forgive. But we do agree, for once. Y/n was right and I apologize for putting Spider in danger,”

It’s not perfect, it’s not perfect in the slightest, but it’s a start he thinks as he looks at his former Corporal. Sully’s shocked expression is not lost on him, and somehow, it makes him feel angrier than he already was. Turning around, Miles steps over to his cot, before sitting down. His body is tired and his head is pounding uncomfortably. With narrowed eyes, he watches as Mrs. Sully leaves the hut, but as she does, the big chief walks up to him. 

“It takes a strong man to admit when he is at fault,” He says before turning back to Sully. The two whisper something in Na’vi before the big chief leaves them both.

Miles doesn’t know how much time passes in silence, the sound of the sea below the hut soothing in a way he hadn’t expected it to be. Still, his anger and frustration over Sully only rise inside of him. The time he had wasted, the lives that had been lost, the cost it had demanded of him - all without a second thought. Although they were his decisions, he couldn’t help but fall victim to Quaritch’s old ways of thinking. 

“You were my brother,” He starts, his low and voice raspy - filled with anger and old betrayal that didn't belong in this new life of his, “And you betrayed that,” 

“It wasn’t personal, Quaritch,” Jake replies, and in truth, he sounds so honest. It only works to infuriate him even more though. 

“I gave you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Corporal. I went out of my way to give you what you needed to succeed. When Parker wanted to pull the plug, I fought for you. I showed you loyalty and you took that and spat it right back in my face - you turned your back on me,” Miles growls, ears pinned tightly to his skull as his tail thrashes loudly behind him, easily giving his emotions away which Sully clearly read. 

“What we were doing was wrong, can you still not see that?” Jake shoots back, his own anger showing, though his body language remained calm, non-confrontational. Anger though, anger Miles could work very well with. 

“You betrayed me, Jake,” He fuels on, the rasp in his growl lethal even to his own ears. 

“You betrayed yourself, Colonel,” Jake spits his title with disgust and for a split second, it hits home. Miles is unable to respond, unable to help his ears from twitching or his tail from freezing up behind him.  

“What we came here to do was wrong. Still, the Na’vi opened their homes, their hearts -” Jake points in the direction you and Spider had just left moments ago and the message hits dead center, “ - and welcomed us, made us a part of them, out of the goodness of their hearts. You know, the Na’vi has no word for shit like lies or sins. It’s not in their nature. But you know what? It is in ours, Quaritch,” 

What Jake says has Miles stopping in his response, mouth opened in a sneer to spit back, but nothing comes. Instead, his thoughts fly around inside his skull, evading him each time he reaches for any of them. He’s left gaping like a fish until he audibly snaps his mouth shut.

“We’ve done despicable things in our lives, Colonel, but this? This is a chance to make amends, to be born anew. Don’t waste it. Don’t repeat history…” And with that, Jake turns his back and leaves. 

Miles sits in silence until night has long since fallen, mind racing as the conversation with Sully runs through his mind. In more than one way, he knew that his former Corporal was right. This was a chance to start anew, to live a life away from war. But did he even know how to do that? He was born into war, lived and breathed war for the entirety of his human life, only to be reborn into war, of a different kind, once more. 

He had done things in his previous life that he knew he could never walk away from. And when his time eventually came, when he was military no more, he had roamed mindlessly before the Head of Chief position for the RDA was offered to him on Pandora. The private sector was sketchy at best, but it was home, a place where people like him could continue to live with the rules and mindset they had been used to from a lifetime of service. The time in between, though, that had been the worst. With no purpose in life, Quaritch had nothing - had no one. Heck, he didn’t even know himself apart from the Marine he had always been. That wasn’t to say he’d never let his mind wander, wondering what a life without the ever-pressing threat of active war and death would be like. To come home to a woman’s warm embrace, hell, maybe even a couple of kids too. Every time his mind went there, however, he would violently throw the thought from his mind. That life was not for him, had never been in the cards he was dealt.  

Now, though, now things were different. He already had the kid, had his eyes set on a woman… He had somehow been given this unattainable dream, but could he really keep it? Could he be the husband and father he had secretly dreamt of being all his life? And what then of Ardmore’s threats? If she found them already married, she would not hesitate to use Y/n against him, or him against her. But to what gain? There was nothing you could give Ardmore that any other native woman could not provide… unless it was to get full control of him. The thought has him freezing as a chill runs down his spine. The bond went both ways. If Ardmore got Y/n, he would be helpless to deny Ardmore anything she demanded of him, if only just to keep you safe. 

Miles doesn't have time to analyze his new discoveries, either one of them, when Spider walks into the hut, returning first, with a basket of food in his arms. He watches as the kid puts the basket down on the other side of the small hut, rummaging inside of it until he pulls out a ripe spartan fruit in his small hands. Miles watches as Spider cuts into it, dicing the juicy fruit into small cubes that probably were human-sized. It makes his own stomach growl loudly. 

“How are you doing?” Spider looks up from the bowl he’s putting the diced fruit into, his face curious behind his exopack. 

“Honestly, kid? I don’t know. These are new waters for me,” Miles couldn’t help but reply honestly. This was his son before him, the kid who saved him from a watery grave, even though he had just betrayed him and his mother. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Spider chuckles, a grin spreading across his lips before removing his mask to eat the first cube of spartan fruit, humming loudly as the taste no doubt explodes across his tongue. “Heard you apologized to Neytiri,” 

“Words spread fast I see,” Miles sighs, as his stomach growls angrily again while watching his son eat, “It was the right thing to do,” 

Spider looks at him with an expression Miles can’t place before he nods his head and leans back. Rummaging in the basket, he lifts another spartan fruit from it. Indicating that he was to throw the fruit, he waits for Miles to be ready to catch it before sending it over. 

“How angry is your mother?” He asks, digging into the fruit before daring to look into his son’s eyes, a small ‘thanks’ mumbled as he chews loudly.

“Oh, she’s furious. Never seen her this mad before,” Spider grins and Miles coughs as he chokes on the fruit before sighing in defeat while putting the half-eaten fruit down in his overly exposed lap. 

“I’ve never seen her this sad before either,” Spider continues shortly after as if he was waiting to gauge Miles’ response before offering the information. 

“Why’s she sad?” Miles dares as he stuffs the last bits of the spartan fruit into his mouth. 

“You broke her heart and betrayed her trust,” Spider gives so freely, without judgment, and just like that Miles has a new goal in his life. 

Conflicted about what his mind tells him and what he feels, he knows deep down that even Quaritch would have been weak for this Na’vi woman, for their son. She had shown him kindness where he had deserved none, had embraced his unit, taught them well, and made them smile, and what did he do in return? He had turned around and spat in her face, throwing away all of her hard work. Quaritch had always known he was an asshole, but Miles never for a second believed they could sink as low as this. You had taken his son in after Quaritch’s death, giving him warmth and motherly love, letting Spider grow into a confident and strong young adult. Quaritch and Miles owed you everything, even before you had met. 

Now, though, that responsibility fell upon him. Quaritch was no more, no matter how much he tried to come to the surface in Miles’ mind, dictating what he should or should not do, what he should and should not feel. Although his voice in the back of Miles’ mind had been conveniently quiet when it came to you, Quaritch had had his full share of “brilliant” ideas to offer on other stuff. Fifteen years, one and a half decades. That was a lot of time for the world around him to change, a lot of time for Quaritch’s methods to be outdated. This was a new age, demanding a new point of view to defeat an enemy that would no doubt come for them with a personal vendetta much stronger than before. 

Lost deep in his own thoughts, he doesn’t notice how Spider goes to sleep, his small body curled up in his mother’s huge bed, rolled into their blankets like a burrito. Sighing deeply, he gets up to clean the knife and bowl that the kid had used, dipping it into the bowl of clean water. For a moment, he looks longingly at the knife in his hand, entertaining the thought of breaking free, but Miles shuts Quaritch up before that seed can grow. This isn’t giving up, he decides, but rather seizing the second chance he’s gotten to do things right. Looking out over the sea, he sees two ikrans flying in the distance, riderless, and instinctively, he knows that it’s Cupcake and Hawnu. You must have just returned if he caught sight of Hawnu flying away. 

Turning back to his cot, Miles bends down on his aching knees before burrowing down into the material below. The woven mat is nothing much, but the blanket he’s covered in is soft and warm, protecting him from the harsh winds out on these islands. Closing his eyes, he lets his mind wander to more pleasant things, like how Cupcake was safe, how you had brought her with you. If she was out flying with Hawnu, it meant that the wounds on her neck weren’t serious as he had thought. Any other thought disappears as light footsteps approach the hut, however. The guards outside greet you gently as you pass them by before stepping inside the hut.

You look tired. Your eyes puffy and dark as they meet his from across the room. Turning your back to him, you fiddle with the flap that works as a door, fastening its buckles as you prepare for sleep.  One by one, you close the flaps until the only light source is the pit on the floor, not that he actually needs it, his night vision working just fine for once. You don’t say anything as you turn your back to him before getting into bed with Spider, the blankets rustling quietly before the hut grows quiet once more. 

Sighing, he pushes the blankets away from his body and gets up to his knees, groaning like an old man as his body protests the activity. Seizing this second chance starts here, with the woman who had offered him the trust and patience he had only experienced in rare dreams. Walking over to their bed, Miles wraps his fists over his thumbs, an anxious gesture he never quite managed to hide. Getting down to his knees before your bed is easier than getting up. It isn’t lost on him how your shoulders rise to protect your neck or how your ears pin tighter against your head while he gathers his… courage.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry, sweetheart,” Miles’ voice comes out raspier than he thought it would, but his words ring no less true. 

He kneels there for a while longer, the silence stretching on, before getting up with a hiss, his body protesting louder this time. Walking over to his cot again, he lets his body crumble to the soft material. The olive branch had been extended, all he could do now was wait and hope that you would accept it.

Chapter 17 | Masterpost | Chapter 19 - Coming soon

Revenant - Prologue

word count: 940

Pairing: Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Wife! Reader Warnings/Tags: None

Chapter Summary: You are called in by your Handler to discuss something important.

[Masterlist] - [Next Chapter]

---

Year 2144.

You fidget nervously with the frayed ends of your black dress. Though the mission was a success, and the target eliminated with no casualties, things did not happen as smoothly as they could have. There is no doubt in your mind this will come up in the report. And so close to reviews too.

Fuck.

Never has riding the elevator to the 47th floor felt longer. You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning your forehead against the cool glass. It does little to sooth you. You focus on the expansive vista of the city. Well deep into the night, the city still thrums with life. A sea of neon lights disappears into the horizon. Smog wafts its way through the tops of buildings, laying itself thickly upon the air. The city disappears as the elevator breaches the clouds.

You push yourself from the glass, facing the doors just as the elevator comes to a stop with a resonant ding.

Your face is neutral and your gait confident as you step forth, making your way through the lobby. Miss Halliday, the concierge, stands ready at the front desk.

“Agent Bloodthorn. A pleasure as always.” Her smile brings you a measure of comfort, sweet honeyed voice a balm to your nerves.

“Ophelia, good evening. Busy tonight?” You make light conversation, as you always do. You hand her the blood coin.

“No busier than usual mam.” She opens her mouth to speak further, but pauses, bringing her hand up to her ear. “Ah. The Handler will see you now. Suite 3 if you please.”

You give her a short nod and set a brisk pace to the suite in question. The sounds of your heels as you walk down the marbled hallway reverb far too loudly for your liking. All too quickly do you stand before the deep mahogany door. Your hand reaches for the golden handle and you enter with one fluid motion. There is no need to knock when you are expected.

Soft gold paints itself along the walls and furnishings from the lit fireplace. The floor to ceiling window at the end brings in the natural silver light of the moon. Your Handler stands at the window, hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at the city below; it would be beautiful on a cloudless night.

“Agent! A resounding success tonight my dear!” He turns to you, arms spread in congratulatory fashion.

“T-thank you, Handler!” Your body stiffens involuntarily at the praise, and you nervously pick at your ruined garment.

“Come now, [Y/N]; even after all these years, you’re still at it with the formalities with me. I’ve known you for nearly a decade and a half now child; I practically raised you!” He laughs heartily as he teases you.

“Sorry James, force of habit, haha…”

He invites you to sit in front of him; a singular leather chair awaits you. As you sit, so too does he, a large wooden desk separating you two. Fluidly he retrieves two crystal classes, a bottle of dark liquid you’re sure you won’t like. He pours you half what he pours himself, wordlessly placing the drink closer to you.

You nod in thanks, taking the glass in hand. With practiced movement, you gently swirl the liquid, giving it an experimental sniff. Where you take a small sip, James downs the contents in one gulp. You let out a small cough and return to the glass to the desk.

“On to business then.” He pulls out several manila folders. “Despite what you might think, the reason we called you in Agent, isn’t to discuss your mission tonight.” You sit up straight when he says this, leaning forward as you watch him unwind one folder.

“A new contract came in while you were out. And as far as I’m concerned, you’ll want to be a part of this.”

He places the open folder in front of you. Your eyes skim over the words. Avatar Program. Pandora.  

“This is…”

“Correct. Word through the network is your brother Tom’s been scouted by Grace Augustine herself. Should start his training next year.”

You had heard as much. Sweet Tom spoke animatedly about Grace and her work. He was so excited to start training, and even more excited to put his PhDs to work on the alien world.

“As it were, you won’t be needing any physical training. With your natural prowess, we believe you will be able to master piloting your avatar in no time; gain experience on the go as it were.”

“M-my own avatar? You’re giving me one of these?? Don’t they cost, billions, to make?!” You can’t help raising your voice, but you saw the numbers as you skimmed the file. Those were a lot of zeroes.

James smirks at you with a shake of the head.

“Leave the financial worrying to me Agent; that’s not your job.”

You let out a defeated sigh, but acquiesce nonetheless. You read further. The file goes on about the local clan of natives, the Omatikaya. It covers the basics of their governing structure, touching lightly on the culture. It speaks of the relationship formed by Grace, but also their inherent distrust of the RDA.

James places another folder in front of you. There is a polaroid; two blurry figures, one circled in red. You can at least make out that they are natives, both men, presumably.

“Your mission agent, is to eliminate this man.” He taps an index finger on the circled figure.

“Who is that?” You tilt your head as you try to make out the features of the man.

“That my dear, is Eytukan; the Clan Leader.”

---

[Masterlist] - [Next Chapter]

---

Perm Tag List: [Interactive Post] alternatively reply below if you want to be tagged just for the story @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww

Revenant - Masterlist

Pairing: Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Wife! Reader Warnings/Tags: R18 - minors DNI, hurt, comfort, eventual smut, major character death, violence, murder, betrayal, romance, pregnancy, (chapters will have additional warnings) Author's Notes: Something I've been cooking up along side Providence!

Summary: For nearly two decades, you have been a trained assassin, part of a group known as The Order. It wasn't a glamourous work, but it put food on the table, and made you strong enough to protect your younger twin brothers from any and every harm. But an unexpected contract falls into your lap, sending you light years away to an alien world, and an alien body, to kill an alien man.

Chapter Index:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (coming soon)

**more story info below**

Reader Info:

Name: [Y/N] Sully Age: 24 (as of 2144), 30 when she arrives on Pandora DOB: xx / xx / 2120 Bio: Older sister of Jake and Tom Sully, 6 years their senior. At the age of 10, she is conscripted by The Order; an elite group of hitmen/assassins. Her demeanor on the field, and the one she presents in front of others, are almost two separate beings. She is calm, collect, perhaps even cold when on the job. Around others she is bright eyed and friendly; smiles were the only thing she ever wore in front of Jake and Tom. Inspired by the character Yor Forger.

---

Random Story Notes:

Quaritch is born in the year 2103 - making him 17 years your senior.

I will be pulling random science stuff out my ass

I may or may not alter the actual timeline of events - I'm getting my info from the wiki in terms of what year stuff happens.

---

Perm Tag List: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww

What Do I Tell My Friends Family - Masterlist

Pairing: Human/Recom/Navi Miles Quaritch x Female! Na'vi! Sully! Reader Tags/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, rare pairing, possibly dark content, smut, adult themes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, lust, older man x younger woman, under age reader (16), degradation, nsfw, dubious consent, dirty talk, orgasm, orgasm denial, foul language, choking, vaginal fucking - each chapter will have it's own tags

Author's Notes: Am I going crazy? I can't find the masterlist for this fic so I'm making a new one. Seems like it just *POOF* disappeared! Someone let me know if I'm just blind >_>

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

--- Tags: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww

What Do I Tell My Friends Family - Masterlist

Pairing: Human/Recom/Na'vi Miles Quaritch x Female! Na'vi! Sully! Reader Tags/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, rare pairing, possibly dark content, smut, adult themes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, lust, older man x younger woman, under age reader (16), degradation, nsfw, dubious consent, dirty talk, orgasm, orgasm denial, foul language, choking, p in v - each chapter will have it's own tags

Author's Notes: Am I going crazy? I can't find the masterlist for this fic so I'm making a new one. Seems like it just *POOF* disappeared! Someone let me know if I'm just blind >_>

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

---

Tags: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww

The Lie of Providence - Chapter 6 - Venom to My Ears

word count: 3745

Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: hurt, anger, no comfort, bullying, dysmorphia, lots of crying

Author's Note: And we're back! Sorry this took soooo long to come out! Haha, totally got distracted by WDITMF  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Anyway apologies for any grammatical errors as usual!

“blue text” is spoken Na'vi.

‘Italics’ are thoughts.

iortsyal = a pandorian butterfly

[previous chapter] | 6 | [next chapter]

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

You remember it quite clearly.

You were 14 then, and it happened so unexpectedly. Tarsem has taken 3 other teenagers, boys them all, under his tutelage as future hunters and warriors.

From the beginning you could tell these 3 were a close nit group, perhaps friends since their younger years. Rokan (15) is the leader, whilst Ru’ak (14) and Teka (14), the twins, were his little followers.

They paid you no mind, as far as you can tell; just another trainee they only saw when they spent time with Tarsem.

A spar was called between you and Rokan, Tarsem wanting to assess both of your progress thus far.

Late in the afternoon, the group found a small clearing, you and Rokan front and centre, the twins somewhere behind Tarsem off to the side.

You readied yourself; low crouch, find your centre, just like father taught you. Rokan stands tall, starts walking to the side as if to circle you. You mimic his movements, making sure to keep him in front of your line of sight.

However this is what he had wanted, had predicted. When he felt the sun kiss his bare back, he rushed you without warning. You squinted as the sun assaulted your sensitive eyes. But that wasn’t what you were paying attention to, no.

You stared only ahead at the figure coming at you. Drenched in gold, you think you have never seen such ethereal beauty. The evening light explodes behind him as he approaches, casting his front in shadow. You feel the rapid pounding of your heart, the quickness of your breath.

He is on you before you can even blink. Tackled to the ground, he pins you and you flail wildly, trying to free yourself, but it is of little use.

“Enough. Separate.” Tarsem calls from the side lines. Rokan obeys without question, the twins hollering his praises. You sit up and watch his retreating back as he makes his way over to them. ‘Was he always that athletic?’ the thought catches you so completely off-guard you let out a quiet ‘eep’! Covering your mouth, you get up in a rush and move to your side. You don’t see the quick glance Rokan does behind himself to look at you.

A few more matches, and a few more pins to the ground, Tarsem calls it. 8 matches, 8 losses. Rokan is full to the brim with pride. He has beaten Tarsem’s star pupil, firstborn of the Olo'eyktan, and he couldn’t be happier.

Tarsem sends the 3 boys off. They eagerly scurry away, playfully pushing each other, arms wrapped around each other’s neck in brotherly fashion. You watch them, envious almost. Yes, you do have the friendship and comfort of your many siblings; but there some times when, you wish you too had friends closer to your age. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter to you.

“[Y/N].” Tarsem addresses you, pulling your attention from the boys.

“Yes???” You respond, flustered at being caught staring.

“You were distracted today.”

You’re not sure if he’s making a statement or asking you.

“Yes, Tarsem. I…apologise. It will not happen again.” He has his arms crossed and nods at you, waving you off for the evening.

You bid him farewell and begin the trek to your next lesson.

“He is a very handsome young man though.” Tarsem calls from behind you. You stop dead and turn to face him, face flushed red, mouth agape in horror. Tarsem only smiles widely trying his best to stifle a laugh. You hasten your retreat to a full-on sprint, all the while you can hear Tarsem’s laugh slowly fading behind you.

---

Ok.

So you think he’s cute.

Handsome even.

Big deal.

So what???

No really. So what?

You have no idea what to do with this information. It’s not as if you’re overflowing with spare time to pursue, whatever this is. A silly crush. Nothing more. But this was the first time you’ve ever experienced romantic feelings in any capacity.

As a result, you unfortunately start noticing him around the village more. You wonder if he often frequented the same areas as you. Did you perhaps never notice until now?

He never approaches you, nor do the twins. Always does he simply greet you with a smirk and quick gesture of the hand. By Eywa, that smile. That damned smile. You feel heat rush up your neck to your cheeks every accursed time. How embarrassing.

A few weeks pass, and something most unexpectedly happens.

He does in fact, approach you.

“[Y/N]!” He waves you down, jogging up to you, the other two not far behind.

“Ro-Rokan! Ru’ak and Teko too. What can I do for you three?”

“Are you free right now? We’re about to head out into the forest, and wanted to know if you wanna join us?”

“M-me?” You curse yourself for stammering in front of him.

“Of course! We’re all warriors in training together. Makes sense to me that we should get to know each other a little better, don’t you agree?”

Your heart feels as though it’s doing flips against your ribcage. You inwardly squeal with joy. As luck would have it, this was your day of rest, so you indeed had free time!

“Y-yes of course! I’d be happy to!” You fondly smile upward to the taller boy, brimming with excitement.

You had remained cordial with the other teens of the clan around your age, but you’ve never actually hung out with any of them. This was your chance to amend that, and actually make friends outside the family. That thought alone has iortsyal fluttering in your stomach.

---

The three of you stop at the edge of the village. Rokan teases you with a smirk, challenging you to keep up. Your heart skips, and you feel heat on your cheeks.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond and immediately rushes off into the forest. You don’t think twice before you’re immediately on his trail, the twins keep pace behind you.

You barely register the world around you, relying solely on your instincts to guide you forward. Your eyes are fixed to the azure back just a few branches ahead of you. You become hypnotised by the lean muscle, and swallow thickly as a sheen slowly spreads upon his broad back.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts before they fall into depravity. You can’t afford to be distracted, not out here at least. The forest is dangerous if you are caught unawares. With renewed focus, you push yourself harder, urging yourself to go faster. You feel the fire of your muscles burning, the ache of your pounding heart, but you relish in the feeling; it is a reminder of your strength, of your training, of being alive.

Up ahead, the spaces between the last tree and the next is too large to clear with a jump, but their branches connect in a bend to the left. You see Rokan veer to the side, taking the safe part. He is still a little ways ahead of you.

You look at the drop, contemplating the odds of you making the jump. It is then you notice the thick vines dangling in the empty space. You smirk to yourself and move even faster than you thought yourself capable of.

You don’t hear the twins both yell out to you as you launch yourself forward, hand outstretched. Your eyes briefly meet Rokan’s as you look to your left. His widen in shock as he watches you fly through the air. Your hands meets vine, and you grab with all your might.

You use the momentum of your flight to propel yourself forward to another vine, repeating the motion once again, before you launch yourself at the flattened branches of the tree ahead. You lurch forwards, coming into a roll as you land. The momentum pushes you forward, and you are instantly back into a sprint.

One quick glance behind and you see Rokan’s shocked face as he just finishes the detour. You don’t even see the twins. You laugh loud and breathlessly, yelling out to them to keep up and to stop being so low. You refuse to wipe the smile off your face as you continue forward. You’re not sure when last you had this much fun. It felt different from when you play with your siblings. There was just something about being around people your own age. Your heart swells with an unknown feeling, and it only makes you smile wider.

From the vantage point in the trees, you can see a large body of water in the distance. It is framed by a cliff side with a waterfall. The darkness of its colour lend credence to its depths. If this was the direction Rokan was going, then it stands to reason that this plunge pool was surely the destination.

You run along the thin branch stretching over the water, and dive down, head first, without hesitation.

In the blink of an eye you’re surrounded by the biting cold of water. You make it half way to the bottom of the pool, before you change direction and start swimming to the top. You breach the surface, taking one big gulp as you make your way to the nearest edge. You pull yourself out, flopping onto your back with a heavy thud. Your eyes are unfocused as you lay there, staring up into the canopy. Your breathing is laborious, and every muscle aches something fierce.

It doesn’t stop the giggle that bubbles up inside you; bursting forth in a cacophony of laughter. You let out a triumphant howl, pumping your firsts into the air victoriously.

---

Rokan sees the gap approaching, and knows he can’t make that jump. He sees the side path, and takes it. He’s almost half way when he hears the twins yelling your name somewhere behind him. He looks to his right and is completely stunned by what he sees.

Your silvery form soars through the sky, arm outstretched. His eyes meet yours for the briefest of moments, before you look forward once again. There is a falter to his step as he watches you clear the gap by swinging on the vines. You’re so far ahead now. He sees you look back once he makes it back to the path. He barely makes out your laughter and the tease you throw to the wind for them to keep up.

He stops dead in his tracks.

The twins finally catch up, you’re naught but a white smudge in the distance against the dark greens of the forest.

“This is far enough.” He tells the twins, holding out his arm to stop them from advancing. They stand there silently, the only sound their laboured breaths. Rokan lets out an amused huff as he sees you disappear when you take the dive.

“Heh…Unbelievable.” He shakes his head. He stares at where you once were for but a moment longer, before turning back and making his way toward the village.

“Let’s go.” The twins nod and follow him without question.

---

Ten minutes pass; it instead feels something akin to an hour. Anxiety weaves it way into you, deep into the pit of your stomach. There was no sound of bodies hitting water. No laughter from rambunctious boys catching up to you.

You sit on your knees beside the water, soaked, hands clenched tight. Your body starts shaking involuntarily.

At first, you thought perhaps they were afraid to dive, and were searching for a safer way down. But as each minute passed by, the truth became clearer.

They had left you. For reasons you have yet to conjure, they had abandoned you here. You fight the quiver of your lip as tears sting your eyes. But as you are now, you are powerless. You fall to your sudden grief, letting out a straggled cry as tears flow free. You wrap your arms around yourself as you weep.

You are cut deep by unpleasant emotions. These are feelings you are unaccustomed to.

Why did they leave you?

Did you do something to offend them?

What were they thinking?

Did they even want to hang out with you in the first place?

Was this their plan all along?

Were they ever intending to be your friend?

Questions like this flood your mind, drowning you in a sudden wave of self-doubt.  You let loose a scream until your throat burns.

---

Time passes, and your tears eventually dry. You look at your reflection in the water, and nearly recoil. Your face is red, eyes puffy, angry streaks of dried tears paint your cheeks. You stare intently at yourself then, taking in the golden threads of your braids, and the starlit white of your skin.

You wonder then, if things would have played out differently, had you been born normal looking.

You frown, clenching your teeth as you feel anger slowly start to burn within. You swat away the image angrily, wildly splashing the water about.

It was no secret to you, that you were born different. But it never bothered you. Your family treated you no different from your siblings, and by Eywa neither did any of the Sky People.

So why now? Why them?

…Were they the only ones?

You shake your head, pulling yourself from yet venturing down that train of thought. You take a moment to wash your face. The cool water helps ground you, calming you. You drink deep, sighing contently.

You pull yourself to your feet, and take stock of where exactly you are. You observe your surroundings, trying to find familiarity with the Great Mother’s design. But none of the surrounding area invokes any sort of recognition. You look up into the canopy, and you can vaguely make out the thin branch you dove from. It would seem, the only way back to that tree would be to scale the waterfall. Wonderful.

You sigh in defeat, but nonetheless make your way around the pool to some outcroppings you can scale.

The climb would not normally wind you, but your body still aches from the strain of your sprinting prior. Your mind still reels, broiled in anger from everything that has transpired.

With an angry grunt, you hoist yourself up to the top of the cliff.

You look up from your crouched position, and freeze.

All of your anger, all of your sadness, every turbulent emotion, is rend from your body.

You mind goes blank, mouth suddenly dry, mind blank.

You do not blink.

Drinking from the stream, nought but a few feet away, is a palulukan.

An adult palulukan.

The creatures ears are pointed toward you. It clearly heard you, but did not turn its head to regard you, instead choosing to finish its drink.

There is a lump in your throat, but you are too shaken to even swallow. Fear overwhelms you, and you are unable to move. To run. You know you should let the fear pass over and through you. But repeating mantras was not the same as putting it into practice.

You curse those boys, but most of all, you curse yourself. You should have paid attention. You should have known better. Had you been smarter, more aware, maybe you would have noticed you were running straight into palulukan territory. Your mind is too frazzled to even send silent prayers to the Great Mother.

You don’t even have any of your decent weaponry on you. Fuck.

The creature finishes its drink, and licks it lips before turning its head in your direction.

But when your eyes meet, something strange happens. You expect the creature to growl lowly, lower its stance, as if ready to pounce.

Instead, once your eyes meet, it freezes.

You barely have time to make a confused face, before the palulukan lets out the most terrifying roar you have ever heard.

But it is not the roar of an apex predator warning prey to run.

This was something of fear.

It snarls and bares its fangs, banging its front paws into ground as it roars at you again. But it never moves closer, staying exactly where it was. Still you are frightened by its very visage.

You flinch.

With swiftness you wish you possessed, the creature suddenly turns and sprints off deeper into the forest.

You sit stock still as you listen to its fading footfalls.

‘What was that?’

‘By the Great Mother, what the fuck was that?!’

You bring your hands up to your face, and realise you are shaking. Adrenaline still courses through your veins. You launch yourself up, and sprint in the opposite direction of where the beast ran.

You dare not turn around.

---

You make it back to village, but you are far from unscathed.

Small cuts mar your skin. In your haste to escape, you became carless; tripping and tumbling over yourself. Your lucky your hands and feet remain clear, but the same cannot be said for your arms and legs. The adrenaline stops you from feeling any pain.

You stop yourself once you make it into the village, bracing yourself on a nearby tree. You fall to your knees, huffing and puffing. You hand clenches your chest as you desperately try to calm your beating heart; it feels as though it will burst forth from your chest.

“Well, look who made it back! Took you long enough, freak.”

You feel yourself go rigid. The voice beside you, addressing you, belongs to none other than Rokan. You don’t move to look at him. Not that it matters. He instead moves to be in your line of sight. You force yourself to look up and at him. He’s smirking down at you, arms crossed over his chest. You vaguely register the twins standing behind him, crouching to be at your level. They’re quietly laughing as they point at you, whispering to each other.

You struggle with all your might to stand up straight, using the tree as leverage. But your legs are threatening to give out, and you painfully slump back against the tree with a pained grunt.

The boys laugh at you.

His words slice into you. But it is not the clean cut of a swift blade. This is serrated, cutting into you slowly with meaningful precision.

“You really are pathetic, you know that? I can’t believe Eywa cursed Toruk Makto. I’m honestly surprised you even made it back alive right now. How stupid were you to not even notice where we were running, hm?”

“Oh well, and here I thought I could be rid of you…”

“W-why…? I haven’t done…anything…to you…” Getting the words out is laborious as you desperately try to catch your breath.

“Pfft! Why? Is this skxáwng serious?” He playfully nudges one of the boys beside him.

“Let me clue you in on a little secret, freak. We don’t like you—I don’t like you! And did you think I wouldn’t notice? The way you look at me? Disgusting. As if I would ever be interested in a freak.”

You flinch at his words, and cast you gaze downward; too ashamed to meet his eyes.

“Did you really think because you were the daughter of Olo'eyktan, of Toruk Makto, that it made you special? Look at yourself! Your Sky People hair. That pale skin. You will never be true Na’vi. Face it, [Y/N]…Eywa cursed you. Honestly, I was doing the clan a favour by leaving you there.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard your name said with such disgust, in your entire life. You don’t know what to do, how to react. The deep gnawing pit in your stomach grows with the pain in your heart. You can’t help the silent tears that fall.

There is no sympathy to be had. Rokan simply laughs at you.

“Aww, Rokan. You made it cry, that’s so mean~!” You dare to look up, and feel the cracks in your heart splinter. A girl approaches, nestling herself into Rokan’s side as she stops beside him. You recognise her. Vekya. You were acquaintances at best. What little interactions you two had were always cordial as far as you can recall. But the sneer on her face speaks volumes. Had she always looked at you like this, when you back was turned?

How many in the clan felt the same then?

You’re overcome with anxiety once more. You can’t be around them. Not under their stares. Not under their eyes.

And so you run.

You hear their laughter fade into the background as you sprint away, not entirely caring where you end up.

---

You hiccup as you cry at the recollection, your throat clenching painfully. You want to continue, but it would seem your body has other ideas.

Your mother stares at you, the hold on your hands almost painful.

She sees the tears streaming down your face.

She sees the pain in your eyes.

The scars of your heart.

The sorrow in your soul.

And she sees...

RED.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

[previous chapter] | 6 | [next chapter]

---

Author's Note: So you may notice your age is lowered. I went back and decided I want reader to be a bit younger. Also I changed that you and Miles haven't given each other your names yet. Thank you to everyone for your patience!

Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! I also started a permanent taglist, so if you want to be on that instead, let me know :) Also if your name isn't underlined, it means I couldn't tag you for some reason :(

---

Perma-Taglist: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname

---

Fic Taglist: @mynameisbaby9 @nissilou @d4rno @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @perseny @manymaria111 @mooniequeen @ndjhs7 @liuope @bucky12345 @maki-z @diosmilkymommers @misscaller06 @lovekeeho @a--1--1--3 @grimistangel @r3dc4ndy @alexqueenbee

420 FOLLOWERS~ - Albino Version

Albino version of this!

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @olivia-the-weirdo @mechformers @rsclopez @totesnothere04 @milknhonies

420 FOLLOWERS~

In celebration of reaching this follower goal--

I have made something silly! Please enjoy my nonsense :D

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @olivia-the-weirdo @mechformers @rsclopez @totesnothere04 @milknhonies

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 7

word count: 4611

Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: smut, light bondage, dirty talk, pregnancy sex, light degradation, p in v, family, fluff, feelings, crying, comfort, acceptance

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long everyone! Hope you enjoy :)))

<previous chapter> | 7 |

The sound of rain pulls you from slumber. The air is thick and humid this morning. You breath deep, the salty air filling your lungs, wiping away the last dregs of sleep.

Your beloved is not beside you; ever the early morning riser that one. Neither are the twins nor Spider, you notice.

With a groan you slowly sit yourself up, having to exert more effort than usual. Once up, your hand moves to the swell of your belly. Shouldn’t be too long now before this one joins your ever-growing little family. You estimate you have about 2 months to go.

You open your home to allow the fresh air in. You reach out to gather some of the cool summer rainwater in your hands, splashing it on your face. You light a small fire in the pit, then set about preparing some meats to cook for breakfast. While those sizzle, you then prepare some fresh fruit that had been left outside your doorstep; the clan often leave you things as their way of helping, knowing you’re due almost any day now.

“Somethin’ smells good,” your ear perk up at the sound of Miles’ voice.

“Good morning, husband,” you greet but don’t turn around. You don’t have to, because before you finish speaking, his arms are already around you. His hot breath tickles the back of your neck as he leaves soft kisses there.

“How’re my best girls this morning?” his hands gently cup the swell of your belly, gently swaying the two of you to some unheard tune. He presses his chest to your bare back, the cool wet skin of his sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Oh? And how do you know we are not blessed with more sons?” You smile at him over your shoulder.

“Father’s intuition sweetheart,” He leans to the side presses a quick kiss to your lips. He pulls back, pressing the side of his face to yours as he peers over your shoulder as you continue preparing fruit.

You hum thoughtfully at his words. You wouldn’t mind having a daughter. Or two. Eywa have mercy if you have another set of twins. Speaking of your children…

“Where are the boys?”

“Spider took them swimming, they’re at the heated pools in the jungle.” You make a noncommittal noise in acknowledgement.

“You know…with the kids busy, we have a little time to ourselves right now…” his hands travel from your belly, slowly tracing the length of your arms, before his hands rest in the crook of your neck. He starts massaging the base of your head with his thumbs. Your eyes close at the pleasurable sensation, moaning unexpectedly.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” You tease him with a side eyed look. He grins down at you, eyes glazed over with desire. His gaze alone sends a pleasurable throb straight down to your core.

“Can’t help it darlin’. Seeing you like this, all big, belly swollen, and knowin’ it’s cuz of me? It does somethin’ to a man,” he bites the tip of your ear, and you let out an involuntary whimper; he knows all of your erogenous zones, and they become far more sensitive during pregnancy.

“Show me then my love, show me what I do to you.”

---

He has you trapped between his legs. Your back pressed to his chest as you lean back, head resting on his shoulder as you gasp between moans.

Your legs are draped over his thighs, keeping you spread. One hand gently massages the flesh of your breast, fingers occasionally pinching your pert nipple.

His other hand is busy at your core, 3 fingers deftly working their way in an out of your warm centre, making filthy squelches with each thrust. Your arousal coats his fingers and your thighs in inviting wetness. You are more than ready for him. But he loves playing with you, especially when you are at his mercy.

He removes his middle finger, bringing it to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud in your slick. His finger glides over with ease thanks to your gushing nectar.

“Oh fuck…Miles right there—YES!” Your voice is breathless as you beg him for release; the pleasure coursing through you burning hotter as you approach the precipice of desire.

He returns his fingers to your inviting warmth, your walls sucking him in greedily. His fingers meet no resistance with how wet you are. He fucks his fingers into you faster this time, the palm of hand slapping against your clit, sending you further into the throws of passion. The symphony of your pleasure comes crashing down on you; the orgasm hitting you with a resounding crescendo. A rough press to your clit has you squirting much to yours and his delight.

“That’s it baby, you always perform so well for me.” Miles whispers into your ear, nipping at the nape of your neck. The feeling of your inviting walls clenching around his fingers sends blood straight to his hardened aching cock.

This was always the ritual. Always would he bring you to glorious orgasm, before chasing his own pleasure. Even if the two of you had an argument, falling into something in line with hate sex, he made sure to prepare you well. No matter what, you were always at the forefront of his mind.

You rest your entire weight against him, chest heaving with each laboured breath. Your skin is sticky with sweat, pussy throbbing, your release leaking all over the floor. You feel Miles’ hardness press into your lower back. He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Do you need a minute?” He asks ever to tenderly.

“For you my love? Never.” You turn yourself as much as you can, arms reaching for him. He understands what you want, immediately turning you to him. He pulls your arms around his neck, securing his behind your back, then crashing his lips to yours.

The kiss is bruising. He sucks on your lips, pressing his tongue to yours, drinking you in greedily as though you were destined to fade. He swallows the moan you release into his mouth. His hand moves to the base of your queue and he pulls you back.

Your eyes are mystified, glazed over from residual pleasure, but alight once more at the promise you see in his own eyes. They are dark with want, pupils dilated with heady need. He licks his teeth as he studies your face, a smirk forming on his lips.

He stands up, pulling you with him. You watch him curiously as he moves elsewhere, searching; there is an amusing flick of the tail when he finds it. He holds the item triumphantly in the air before coming back to you.

Ah. Rope.

He always did love restraints.

“You trust me, sweetheart?” You scoff, almost offended he needs to ask you for umpteenth time.

“Since our first night in the Dream my love. Always and forever.” Your smile is matched by his own.

“Hold your hands up, behind your head.” You do as instructed. The rope this not too thick, black and woven with expertise only a machine could craft. It was something you brought with you all those years ago. You figured it would be most useful; nothing hand crafted had yet matched it in quality. What you hadn’t expected was for your mate to use it in such, creative ways. Not that you complain; you were of course more than delighted to engage in his fantasies.

He fastens your wrists together tightly. The length is then wound around your neck, dropping between your breasts before he loops it around your mounds. It lowers through your cleavage and around the back; always he keeps it away from your belly. He nudges your legs apart. The rope is then wrapped around each hip and thigh.

He moves behind you then, pulling your fastened hands behind his head. His hands roam over you in reverence, from the swell of your breasts, to the expanse of your thighs, not a single inch of skin is left unworshipped. He gives the rope a final tug to make sure all is secure.

He kisses the side of your temple, and you feel him take a hold of your queue, joining it with his own. The low guttural moan he makes sends a spark of pleasure down your spine, straight to your cunt. You feel yourself becoming slick once more, not that you need even more prepping in the first place.

He grabs the rest of the rope in his right hand, before wrapping it around your front, nestling his arm between your breasts. He lowers his left hand until it reaches the back of your knee. You know without having to be told, and lift your leg. He holds your leg up as far as you can stretch; you are thankful to be so pliable after all these years. The position has your now aching core wide open, glistening in the fire light as you leak down your own leg.

You let out a soft moan as you feel the hardness of his naked cock rub against your slit, coating himself in your prior release. He lines himself up with your entrance, his head just breaching the opening.

“I love you, [Y/N],” he whispers into your ear before he buries himself in you to the hilt with one hard thrust. The sudden stretch burns in a delightful way, you hope you never get used to his size. You can’t help the sudden yelp of moan.

“Fucking hell baby, you’re so wet. And it’s all for me. My perfect little mate, with her perfect little cunt.”

The filth of his words causes a whimper to fall from your lips, but your walls clentch the scorching member inside you. Miles lets out a shaking laugh laced with pleasure.

“Pretty little thing you are. Always. So. Fucking. Perfect!” Each word is punctured with a hard thrust in and out of you. His long cock caressing the soft spongy flesh of your walls, finding that special spot that drives you wild and beyond reason. Greedily your walls clamp around him, begging his release and your own.

“You like that, darling? You’re always such a needy bitch in heat. Like it when your mate talks to you like that, huh?” He pulls on the rope, tightening the restraints all around you. The skin under the rope becoming warmer and reddening. You let out a straggled cry, mouth agape, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder.

The pleasure mounting in you growing with every passing moment. Your hands find purchase on his braid, holding on tight. He groans into your ear, the sound somewhere between a moan and a growl. It reverberates through your bones, to know your mate is so in the throes of pleasure, stokes fire in your own belly; your arousal covering his own.

He grabs your other leg, and suddenly you are hoisted into the air. You yelp with surprise, but he holds you firm. His pace is relentless, still thrusting up into your welcoming heat. Such display of strength only spurs you on further. There comes a dull ache in your legs from the strain of being held up, but also the tightness of the rope cutting into your joints.

The pain and pleasure mix wonderfully, pulling you over the edge and into your waiting orgasm. You moan loudly, almost a scream, Miles’ name spills from your lips in high pitch mewls. He doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm to another, causing your to squirt all over his cock.

Tears flow freely from your eyes at the overstimulation, but by the Great Mother does it feel heavenly. Your ecstasy assaults him through the bond, finally sending him over the edge. His mouth bites down hard into your shoulder as he cums, shooting his seed up into your inviting warmth. Your walls clench him greedily, milking him till he is spent. There is a falter in his legs, you can almost feel the strain in his arms as he tries to keep you up as his pleasure wracks him to the core.

Finally though, he gently lowers you to the ground, falling onto his knees once your feet are firmly planted. You use him as leverage, lowering yourself before him. He rests his head to your shoulder, hands immediately finding your belly, resting them there.

Time passes slowly, filled with the smell of your sex and the sound of your joint laboured breaths. Slowly, Miles starts removing the rope from your person, throwing it somewhere out of sight once done. You collapse into his embrace once more, turning to your side as you lean against him. He cradles you in his arms, pressing delicate kisses to your hair.

You feel hot and sticky, but thoroughly fucked. You couldn’t be happier, tail wrapping around you both.

“You okay?” He asks, always, after any session in which he ties you up. His hands find your wrists, gently massaging the bruised skin.

“Always my love. Just a little worn out.” You close your eyes and lean into him more, never wanting this feeling to end. This peace and tranquillity.

---

Your mind drifts to the day, nearly 5 years ago, when you first landed on the island.

The Olo'eyktan and Tsahik came to greet you, as well as many members of the clan. They were surprised to see forest people; some never having seen any before. They gawked and stared unashamedly. They were more surprised though, by Spider’s presence. A Sky People child, painted with stripes, dressed in forest garb? What a spectacle!

The Tsahik had hissed when she caught sight of him, demanding that you take the Demon Child back from where you found it.

With great restraint you held your tongue, explaining instead that you cannot and would not go back. You wanted no part in the war with the Sky People, and neither did your mate. All you wanted was uturu. Some place far away from conflict. You explained that the Human boy, was in fact your mate's son, just without an Avatar body.

She was taken aback then, but grabbed your hand, noting the four fingers. She declared you too were of Demon blood, not true Na’vi. None of you were. Why should they let you stay? You looked to the Olo'eyktan then, pleading with your eyes. You gestured to Spider, saying that if he could adapt to live amongst Forest Na’vi, then you could all adapt, that you will adapt.

The Tsahik scoffed, walked around you three to inspect your tails. She stopped abruptly behind your mate, staring at his back. Her hand came to rest on the space between his shoulders. You saw the tenseness in his shoulders, wrapping his tail around his leg, hands clenched. He sends you a worried look, but you shrug, unsure of what she was doing.

You see her brows furrow. She removes her hand then, like she has been burnt, before returning to her mate’s side. She speaks low to him.

“That one, has been touched by Eywa.” The Olo'eyktan’s head shoots up as he stares at Miles, then looks back down to his mate for clarity.

“Touched?” He asks in shocked whisper. She clicks her tongue, annoyed at the events unfolding before her.

“Yes. Touched. Whether literal or spiritual, I cannot say for sure. But it is there. I feel it.” She squints at Miles, wholly distrusting of his person.

‘By the stars themselves, what could the Great Mother possibly have seen in this one?’ she thinks to herself.

“What of the boy? How will he live amongst us, if he cannot breathe our air?” The Tsahik gestures to Spider, who has been standing beside you awkwardly. You put a comforting hand around his shoulder, pressing him closer into your side.

“You need not worry. This Sky People-made mask will keep him safe.” You tap the mask gently. You’re not sure how much these people know of Human technology, but you don’t explain further. You send a silent thank you to Norm, Max and all the other scientists back home.

Just before your departure, you had decided Spider could not come with, intent to leave him behind, no matter how much it broke your heart. There would be no feasible way to replenish his oxygen packs supply. But Eywa smiled upon you. The humans, the engineers they were called, came forth with a new designed mask. It did not need oxygen packs like the old ones, instead filtered the air itself for safe breathing. It worked underwater too. It was sturdier too, strong as Na’vi bones they boasted.

Her eyes roam over you, then Spider, than up to your mate. She questions then, what skills you Forest folk could possibly bring to their shores. Your mate steps forward then, proudly stating he is a warrior, willing to fight anyone to prove his worth. The Olo'eyktan holds up his hand, stating that it wasn’t necessary, at least not yet.

The Tsahik’s eyes rake over you again, making you feel self-conscious. You see her gaze linger on your chest and your hips.

“You…Your patterns are of Forest folk, but your body is not.” It is more so a statement than a question, but demands an answer all the same.

“You are correct, Tsahik. My mother was true born Na’vi, of the Omatikaya clan. My father is…like my mate. Born of the Sky People.” She makes a disgruntled noise, but says nothing else.

After a moment of silence, she looks back up at her mate, and gives him the faintest of nods.

The Olo'eyktan announces then, that you three are welcome and are to be treated like their brothers and sisters. He warns them to be gentle with the Human, try not to gawk at him too much as there was still a village to look after. You thank him profusely, tears threating to fall at corner of your eyes. His smile is warm and welcoming, and the relief you feel is near palpable.

---

You and Miles decide to pack the food into a basket and bring it to the children. As the two of you are making your way along the beach to the path that would lead into the jungle, you are greeted by the sight of your two young sons running at you, Spider taking up the rear in a slow jog.

“Mama! Papa!” They yell in unison, arms outstretched as they crash into your legs.

“Good morning my little starlights! And to you too Spider, thank you so much for taking such good care of them,” You pick up Rawm as Miles does Taxun. Spider smiles up at the both of you, out of breath from the run.

“It’s no trouble [Y/N]. I already know what it’s like to have younger brothers.” He takes note of the basket Miles is holding, helping himself to the fruit inside. Your smile becomes a little sad at the memory of your family. You don’t have time to dwell on it though, as the kids notice Spider eating and immediately demand to be fed.

And so the 5 of you sit on the nearby rocks in the shade, enjoying the meats and fruits. It doesn’t last long, as the twins eat far too fast for your liking, before they start pulling Spider toward the ocean, wanting to swim in the cool water now that the sun was out. He of course obliges without fuss, and you giggle as you watch them splash about in the water.

The sun hangs high in the sky now, midday you presume. You enjoy the cool breeze kissing your skin, and the soft caress of your husband as he traces the glowing freckles on your back.

You are quiet, but there is gentleness in your eyes, a soft smile on your lips.

“Whatcha lookin’ at sweetheart?” Miles asks you, and you keep your eyes forward, smile widening.

“Our future.” Your voice is soft as the sand between your toes.

He hums in agreement, and kisses your check.

“Yeah…me too.”

---

You’re not sure how much time passes, perhaps not even an hour, when you here your name being called. You look to see the Olo'eyktan’s daughter coming to you hastily.

Your heart skips a beat at her urgency.

“[Y/N]! You must come quick! Follow me!”

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Did you not hear the horns?!” She asks as she speeds off, expecting you to follow. You look to your mate, both of you have a confused expression. Neither of you heard it, too engrossed in watching your family. The kids probably didn’t hear anything amongst their own yelling and playing.

Quaritch whistles to the kids, who all immediately cease their frivolity, and run back to you two. Miles wordlessly grabs both twins in his strong arms, and you hand Spider the now empty basket. You make your way back as fast as you can waddle, explaining to the kids along the way.

---

You see an unexpected amount of people gathered at the front beach, though you can’t quite make out what’s going on.

You hear the whispers and murmurs of the clan, strangers they say; visitors.

You and Miles share a concerned look as you make your way forward. A sound carries on the wind, a bellow of a creature; and you know that sound anywhere.

Ikran.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest, your mind running a mile a minute. You don’t even think as you start forcefully pushing your way through the crowed, flanked by Miles still holding the twins and Spider.

“What’s going on Papa?” Rawm asks, clutching onto his father tightly.

You don’t hear his response as you finally make your way out front, seeing the backs of your Olo'eyktan and Tsahik.

You vaguely note the 5 ikran poised on the sand, looking none too pleased.

And when you see the Na’vi visitors talking to your Olo'eyktan, tears well in your eyes, and you let out a straggled cry.

“Sanctuary for my—” The visiting man's voice cuts short when he hears your cry, immediately finding your gaze. His eyes widen at the sight of you, flicking to your swollen belly for a split second, before coming back to your face. He lets out a shaky laugh, a grin splitting his face.

The woman at his side looks at him confused, before following his line of sight. Your eyes meet, and she falls to her knees, covering her mouth as she cries, tears streaming down her face.

You approach them slowly, not caring for the stares of the clan, nor the poignant look Tsahik Ronal is sending you.

You stand before your parents.

“Hello mother. Hello father. Oel ngati kameie.”

Neytiri jumps to her feet, wrapping in her arms tightly. Her cries burn your ears but you don’t care. They are matched only by your own. You feel your fathers arms wrap around you two, and you swear by the Great Mother, that this was perhaps the first time you’ve ever heard him cry. Your four siblings rush at you too, scrambling to get you into an embrace of their own.

You hear the tell-tale sigh of your Tsahik, and the low chuckle of Olo'eyktan Tonowari.

“I guess you have a lot of catching up to do, no?” He turns to the clan and addresses them. “Treat Jake Sully and his family as our brothers and sisters, just as you did with those who came before.” He calls for his eldest son and daughter, instructing them to teach Jake and his family just as they had taught you.

Your family untangles from one another, though your parents still have their hands on your shoulders. You take each of their hands in your own.

“[Y/N], I—”

“Hush, mother. Before you say anything, you too father, there is someone, two actually, you should meet first…” You pull them towards Miles. You turn your head to your siblings, gesturing with your head for them to follow too. You feel them tense, and a falter in their step. You gently squeeze their hands, releasing a shaking breath when you feel them squeeze back.

“Oel ngati kameie, Jake and Neytiri.” Miles says with perfect annunciation. They don’t say anything, but gesture to him with their hands. They are far too in shock, eyes instead focused on the two boys in his arms.

“Mom, dad, siblings…I’d like you to meet my sons, Rawm and Taxun,” you gesture to your boys accordingly, letting go of your parents hands, nervously threading your own fingers together in front of you.

You hear your siblings greet them with little waves, introducing themselves as their aunts and uncles. The boys are shy, and barely greet them back with tiny voices. Kiri runs to Spider, pulling him into a wordless hug as she cries into his shoulder.

“Hey kiddos, it’s nice to meet you. I’m your grandpa, Jake,” You father smiles at them big and goofy, tail swaying with joy.

“Pa Jake?” Rawm asks, bringing tears to the edge of your fathers eyes. He lets out a shaky laugh and nods.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m your mama’s papa. Just like this man, is your papa.” He pats Miles on the shoulder, and the two share a look. You can see so much unspoken words exchange between them, Miles lowering his ears submissively. But your father gives him a kind smile. You can see in your mates eyes, even as he returns the smile, there is a hint of guilt there.

Your son surprises you then, reaching for your father, who happily takes him into his arms, smile widening.

You look to your mother then; filled with trepidation at her reaction. All of your anxiety shatters when you see her smile your boys.

“Hello little ones. I am your grandmother Neytiri. Your mama’s mama…” She wipes away a stray tear, and happily takes Taxun when he reaches for her.

She gently rocks him, patting his back with practiced ease. Your heart swells at the sight of your parents holding their grandchildren.

Neytiri’s eyes lift from your son then, to meet your mate’s gaze head on. She stares at him, studying him, but he doesn’t break the eye contact. She closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath, exhaling through her mouth. She opens her eyes and fixes him with a determined look.

“Oel ngati kameie, Miles Quaritch.” She nods to him, hand gesturing towards him in the proper greeting. “Thank you…for taking care of my daughter.”

His eyes widen at her words, and she smiles up at him, though it is small, as she hugs your son to her a little more tightly.

“Oel ngati kameie, [Y/N], my daughter…I am so happy, to see you, alive and well.” She touches a hand to your belly briefly, before returning to pat your sons back. “You too Spider…I am, pleased, to see you are doing well.”

Spider gives her a shy smile and a nod. Your brothers flank him, poking his sides and remarking on his larger frame, toned by years of swimming.

“Oel ngati kameie, mother, father, siblings. Welcome to our family.”

Everyone comes together, embracing in one giant hug, with you and Miles at the centre.

“Wherever we go, our family is our Fortress.” You father says.

“Sullys stick together,” Neteyam adds.

“And now, Quaritches too.” Your mother says, and with that, the dam breaks.

You cry tears of joy, safely nestled in the embrace of your family.

You couldn’t be happier.

End

---

<previous chapter> | 7 |

Author's Note: And that's a wrap people! Originally this was gonna end with Quaritch's "yeah me too" on the beach. But then it occurred to me, people would probably want a reunion with the family, so here we are!

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along with what was supposed to be a horny one-shot that then turned into a mini series XD I look forward to seeing ya'll in my future works, so stay tuned!

---

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @lvangel98, @rsclopez, @onlyreadz @manymaria111, @kristeen31xxx @mechformers @olivia-the-weirdo @essenceinpink @villirios @rededfoxy @brutecuteness @perseny @fandom-garbage @ttreader @hihhasotherfixations @angel-of-silver369 @royallaufeyson @saltedcoffeescotch @the-hufflebird-girl @ding-dong-big-schlong @netherklutz @moneyoverl0v3 @@episodic8peace @touchedflowers @sarcasticrandy @lov3rluna @totesnothere04 @ab-haya @me-on-pluto @ducks118 @grimistangel @lovekeeho @itsyoboysparkel

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 2

word count: 4662

Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: Non-con, slight torture mentioned, smut, blow job, mouth fucking, threats of violence, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, NSFW, degradation, dark themes, hurt no comfort Author's Notes: Aye yo wtf, this was suppose to be a one-shot! XD Some have asked for a continuation, so I have provided! Wanted to get this out on Valentines Day, though that has since passed here. Would have been out sooner but, Cyclone Gabrielle had other plans! Anyway please enjoy. Might make a part 3 for something softer. Apologies for any grammatical errors!

<previous chapter> | 2 | <next chapter>

*by clicking keep reading you understood the contents there within*

Pain.

That is the first thing that you register; a dull throb to the back of your head. You grown at the feeling. Slowly do your eyes flutter open, the sting of light assaults you.

When finally do you adjust to the brightness, you take stock of your surroundings.

White.

The walls. The ceiling. The floor. Where the fuck are you?

You realise you are on the floor. You move to sit up, but you find your hands are bound tight behind you. So it with great effort you that manage to push yourself up into a sitting position, back pressed against the wall behind you.

You gaze around the room. In the centre there is a thick metal table. No chairs. To your left, a bed that would be far too small for your frame. Clearly you are in a human facility. But you do not recognise this interior to be that of Hell’s Gate.

Shit.

Despite the painful throb, you attempt to recount your steps up until this point.

---

Your siblings; Eywa bless them all, but by the Great Mother did they infuriate you. For some unfathomable reason, the little entourage, sans Neteyam, thought to disobey the rules and explore the old battle site. There they happened upon a group of Avatars, decked out in full gear, carrying ARs.

Lo’ak calls it in. Father instructed him to retreat.

You arrived at eclipse, alongside your parents and Neteyam, leaving him with the ikran. You find your siblings captured and in the clutches of these Avatars. There would be no way to rescue them without bloodshed.

Your mother lets loose the first arrow, a clean headshot, and all hell breaks loose in a hail of gunfire. In the scuffle you manage to find Kiri and Spider, leading them away as fast as you can.

But an explosion goes off behind all of you, and though you and Kiri keep balance, you see Spider fall. The two of you yell out to him. Without so much as a second thought, you dove. You clutched his body to yours, wrapping yourself around him as the two of you fell, lessening the impact it would have on him, hoping you have protected his mask.

You hit your head on several tree branches on the way down. With a painful thud you land on the ground. There is a loud ringing in your ear. You think you can hear Spider’s muffled voice yelling your name, screaming perhaps. You can’t concentrate. There is only pain. There is only the ringing.

You faintly register the feeling of being lifted. There is a light, blinding in your eyes, coming from the skies. Then darkness. Nothingness.

Then, you woke up here.

---

It stands to reason then, that you were captured by those Avatars. Fuck.

But where was Spider?!

Panicked, you hoist yourself onto wobbly legs, looking around the room you search, but he is not here. You pull on the bindings in frustration, but it is of little use; they are wound tight.

You turn around and are met with your own reflection. You notice your head’s been wrapped in some gauze; you must’ve hit your head pretty hard. You look at the bindings on your wrist, orange, ones you haven’t seen before. A nice new gift from the Sky People.

Suddenly your ears pick up a soft swoosh of a sound, and the door behind you opens.

Too afraid to turn around you stare at the doorway through the reflection.

One of the Avatar men stalks in, bending as he does to get through the doorway.

By Eywa’s grace, he is tall. Taller than your father, your surmise. Bigger too. Probably not a fight you would win easily, if it all. Especially with your injured head and bound wrists.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.” He says as he approaches you. You turn then, slowly, to face the man. You decide to play nice, for now at least. No need to get hurt even more. Lure the enemy in, strike when they least expect.

You look up to meet his gaze head on, and freeze.

---

That face.

That damned face.

You’re sure you know that damnable face.

But it is not possible. The man you know of, are thinking of, is most assuredly dead. For real dead. You’ve seen his remains, trapped in that machine in the old battle site. You dared not to touch it; afraid it would have disturbed his spirit somehow.

Oh Eywa, his spirit…

How long has it been since you last saw him? Three years? Something close to that you think. You would never forget that evening, that desperate evening, when you approached him. Threw yourself at him. And he caved. Oh sweet Eywa, he had caved.

You knew what you did was wrong. Guilt had eaten away at you in the days that followed. You knew exactly who he was. You knew of his crimes. Yet you did it anyway. Shameful. Disgusting. Monster-fucker, you bitterly thought.

The two of you never really broached the topic of his past. He had given you his name, and it was enough. You told him who you were, and it was enough.

You hadn’t known how to explain the marks that marred your body. You claimed to have fallen off attempting a trick mid-flight. A weak excuse. You can see it in the eyes of your parents that they do not believe you. Your siblings too. But they instead teased you, convinced are they that you must have been with someone.

You decided then, that if you should see him again, you must apologise, it was a mistake, shall never happen again, and to never speak to one another going forward.

It takes two weeks then, for a re-emergence of a shared dream.

You had been psyching yourself up for the encounter.

Except the moment your eyes meet, there is such an unbelievable swell in your chest, an almost immediate heat in your loins. You are beyond smitten.

You let yourself be lost in the feeling.

Days turn to weeks. Weeks to months. And every few days, you found yourself back in his company. Back in his arms. Sometimes, he in yours. And you love it. Guilt be damned you love the attention. The two of you figure that your body must reflect whatever happens to your soul in this Space.

He, tries, to be more mindful of the marks he leaves; but your people already wear next to nothing as it is, so it is a bit of a challenge. You don’t mind though, not anymore. Not after this long. It fills you with confidence, to know you are wanted so deeply, so readily, always.

You find you are able to walk pass those boys who had rejected you with a huff, a flick of the hair. Show them that they are unneeded, and that you have found someone else.

But such a time is not to last. Your family began to pester you; your parents especially. Father is Clan Leader; this you cannot forget. So for his eldest, his daughter, to have some sort of secret lover, he is not exactly keen on. They beg and plead, asking for you to tell them who it is. If this boy, ‘Ha! Boy…’, has accepted you, then they can arrange for him to be your future mate, recognise your future relationship in the clan. Make it official as it were.

You were relucted, obviously. How can you explain to them that you were having, relations, with what is undoubtedly their worst enemy, but also that it wasn’t happening in the real world?

Just when you were slowly coming around to the idea of confessing…it stopped.

Just like that.

No warning. Just complete, nothingness.

When a week had gone by with no Quaritch, you thought nothing of it.

But weeks turn to months. One month becomes two. Two becomes four.

And on the eve of the sixth month, you break. You break down, alone under the Spirit Tree. You connected to Eywa, sobbing, begging, pleading, questioning. ‘Why? Why now?’ If it was so wholly wrong, why put you two together?

You are met with silence.

Months then, turned to years. You never do tell your parents, or your siblings. Your apparent mood change at the seventh months leads them to believe things didn’t work out. It had been months since they saw you with marks in suspicious places. You are grateful they never bring it up though; but you can tell in they walk on egg shells around you that they know.

This goes on for about another few months before all returns to normal.

You miss him, of course. He had been your first love you think. Accepting your body as those boys did not. A freak to them you were. Big breasted and wide hipped. But to him—

“Ahh, you’re all freaks to me darlin’. ‘Sides, if you were human, with a body like that? Pssh, men wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off ye. Lord knows I can’t,” he had winked at you when he said that. That’s when you knew there was no way you could possibly stay away from this man.

But Eywa had other plans it seemed.

“You still with me darlin’?” Your reminiscing is brought to a hastened end by the man before you. He stands just before you, waving a hand in front of your face.

Shit. How long were you staring off into nothing remembering things?

You blink rapidly, then cast your eyes downward. You are far too overwhelmed to look this man in the eye.

“What do you want, Demon?” The last part you spit with venom. You don’t know who this is, but you hate him. Hate that he looks so damn close to your human.

“Ah, so you do speak English…” He takes a step back, crosses his arms and regards you with keen interested. “That was some nasty fall back there. Had the science pukes patch ya up real nice.” You don’t say anything in response.

“Spider tells me you were protecting him. Awfully nice of ya, considering he’s human. Stands to reason then, that I shall return that kindness. Be nice and all that. All you gotta do, is tell me what I wanna know.” He roughly grabs your face in one hand, forcing you to look up at him.

“Where is Jake Sully?”

“As if I would betray my family so easily, Demon! You will get nothing from me!” You all but yell angrily at him. Baring your teeth as threateningly as you can muster.

“Now-now sweetheart, there’s no need to play hard to get. We can do this the easy way. Or the hard way. Your choice. As I said, I’ll be nice. Once. Then I won’t.”

Fear.

Fear bursts through you. You look up at this man, this Demon, this monster and plead with your eyes.

“Please…don’t hurt me…Do not ask this of me…”

Loyalty, even in the face of danger. He admires that. But the soft approach, he’ll save for Spider. His not-son. For you though, savage daughter of that fucking traitor Jake Sully, he’s decided on a not so nice approach.

---

You don’t know how long you’ve been here. Hours? Days? Weeks? Time has all but blurred together. You have not seen the outside in so long. Have not felt the sun upon your skin. It is torture. But nothing, truly nothing, compares to that awful machine.

It pulls at your mind, the digging, cutting, searching. The feeling of a thousand metal spiders clawing into your flesh. Yet you do not yield. You think only of the forest. Of tall trees and swinging vines. Of running through the under brush at night when the world is aglow. You force your mind to think of Hells Gate. Of the scientists. Of the many humans you see mulling around.

Each time your screams fall on deaf ears, begging for the pain to stop. Each time you are brought to tears. Only when you start bleeding from your nose are you let free, returned to that awful white room. They don’t bother cuffing you anymore. You simply lay on the floor weeping to yourself till you fall unconscious.

You’re not sure how long you can keep it up. Sooner or later, you will inevitably think of the Hallelujah Mountains, of High Camp.

And where was Spider? Oh Eywa you hope he’s okay. If they put him in that same machine, you vow you would kill them all. Every. Last. Human. Avatar. Whatever. Anything breathing in this forsaken place was dead fucking meat.

Again you weep for him. You hope was safe and not scared and alone. You prayed to Eywa that they treated him with a modicum of decency, at least for being human. You move yourself and the oxygen mask they gave you into the soft bed, small as it was, a better comfort than the floor. You cry yourself to sleep.

---

It’s frustrating, Quaritch thinks. It’s been about a week, and still they have come up short. Even with Spider riding along, no progress has been made. It was difficult to even get him to agree to come a long. He had insisted on seeing you, outright refusing to cooperate otherwise. It was only when Quaritch had not to subtly threatened to return him to the science pukes that he relented. Still he demanded to at least know you were safe.

It took little effort to lie to the boy. You were technically safe, so long as they didn’t keep you in that machine longer than you could handle. You had a place to rest. Water and food were given to you. A mask too. By all accounts you were still living and breathing. Close enough to safe.

But you. Stubborn, obstinate, infuriating you. They had yet to break you. Their fancy expensive machine failing them at every turn. Quaritch stares at you on the monitors before him. He can hear you weep. Another failed round. He’s clutching his mug tightly. The General will be on his ass if he doesn’t produce results soon. He’s not exactly her biggest fan either. She’s got an arrogance about her that rubs him the wrong way.

It’s your fault, he thinks, as he stares you. Your fault, that progress has come to a standstill. It pisses him off. If you at least gave them something, anything, this would be a whole lot easier. He slams his mug down, anger bristling his nerves, ire ever growing.

“Turn off the monitors. Me and that hostile are gonna have ourselves, a little chat.”

“Sir…?”

“JUST. DO IT.” The human beside him jumps at his tone, hastily turning off the feed as commanded.

“Now don’t go turning that back on till I return. Trust me, I’ll know.” He fixes the man with a stern look before storming off to your holding cell.

---

You awake with a start at the sound of the door opening. You see the Demon step in, then touch the something beside the door. It makes a noise, and you are more than certain he’s locked it. Your stomach drops.

Quaritch looks up at the cameras, making sure there is no red light to indicate it being on. Satisfied, he turns to you once more.

“You know sweetheart. I gotta give it to ya, I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long.” He says, taking slow leisurely steps towards you. You bring your knees to your chest, pushing yourself as far back as you can until your met with the cold wall.

“But this can all go away. No more machine. I can get you outta here. All you gotta do is give me what I want.”

“I will give you nothing! Demon!” You hiss at him, but it is for show. You are scared, trapped with this man in a place you can’t escape. Too weak to fight properly. Without thinking, you spit at him, landing your saliva on his chest. Oh, he doesn’t like that.

“One of these days sweetheart, that mouth of yours is gonna get you in a world of trouble.” A frown adorns his face as he says this, looking at the offending wet patch before drawing his eyes back to meet yours.

“Starting today.” In a flash he’s on you, roughly grabbing your queue at the base. You yelp in both surprise and pain, hands automatically clawing at his wrists. He pulls you off the wall to the edge of the bed. He stands before you. He yanks your head back, pulling your face upward.

“You don’t wanna talk? Fine. Let’s put that mouth of yours to good use then, shall we?” The grips your queue tighter, the searing pain lights your nerves once more and you hiss at the feeling. Tears threatening at the edge of your eyes.

You catch movement on the edge of your gaze. With horror you realise what he is doing. He’s unbuckling his pants.

‘Oh no no no, please, Great Mother NO! Not this! Anything but this!’ Your prayer is futile as you watch him pull out his half-hardened cock.

Quaritch didn’t think he’d find your fear so arousing. But that pleading look you give him every time he sees you, he can’t help the bolt of electricity that shoots through him. Even now he can see the fear in your eyes, he can see you know what’s about to happen, and he reveals in the power he has over you. Doesn’t help that you’ve been walking around in that get-up of yours.

He noticed you, that first time he walked into this cell. You definitely were a half-breed, with those five fingers and toes. Even more so did he notice the swell of your breasts, the expansion of your hips. From the images he’s seen on the data pads, you are clearly not like the rest of your kin. Your portions are almost too human.  He’s not sure if it’s this new body, or the memories of the man he’s emulating, but God damn he can’t help himself.

The frustration of it all, topped off with your stubbornness to cooperate, stagnating their operation too boot, has all been building up. He’s just about had enough. This is all your fault. Seems to reason that you should be the one to fix it, he figures.

Before you can even begin to beg, he pulls out a knife, bringing the sharp blade to where he has your queue in his hand.

“Don’t get any funny ideas darling. One wrong move, and it’s bye-bye Eywa. Understood?” Tears silently fall from your eyes; you nod when you feel him loosen his grip ever so lightly. Seeing those tears sends a pleasurable throb to the tip of his dick.

“Good girl.” He lets your head fall forward properly facing him, he shuffles closer, his legs hitting the side of the bed.

“Now, do you need to be told what to do, or do you already know?”

Of course you know. You spent an almost immeasurable amount of time with your beloved human. He showed you things you never dreamed of, touched you in ways your imagination could never suffice. But now those memories were to be tainted, forever marred by the actions of this Demon. Your hesitation is noted, and met with displeasure.

“I ain’t got all day sweetheart.”

With renewed tears you sit on your knees, and take him in one hand.

---

Slowly you pump, up and down, from base to tip. It doesn’t take long for him to harden. The sight of your tears dripping onto your exposed chest spurring him on.

He’s massive, you realise. You’re sure Na’vi men aren’t meant to be this well-endowed. You’re almost certain actually, from the stories you shared with you by your friends.

He is thick too; your fingers barely touch when encircled around him. He hums with pleasure, tightening his grip on your queue ever so slightly.

You squeeze tighter, pumping his cock with more force. You hear him suck in a breath.

He brings the knife away from your queue to your mouth.

“Open.” He commands, and you obey. “Wider.” He sticks the knife inside carefully, pressing the flat side of the blade onto your tongue. The cold metal tastes awful, making your mouth water. He uses his thumb to pull one side of your mouth away, examining.

The sight alone causes a shudder through his core. You peering up at him, tears in your eyes, tongue flat, mouth pulled open, drool falling freely. Oh yes, he could get used to this.

He removes the knife from your mouth, back to your queue.

“Use that pretty little mouth of yours darling.”

Your lips tremble at the thought of that massive thing in your mouth. But what choice do you have really? Your lifeline is in his hand; quite literally in fact.

He moves your head closer, loosening his grip to give you some leeway. “Watch those teeth darlin’” he warns as you lean closer still.

Slowly you open your mouth, and give his tip an experimental lick. You hear the Demon suck in a breath through his teeth when he does this. You lick his tip again, then take the hold head into your mouth.

The Demon exhales audibly.

You swirl your tongue around the tip, opening your mouth slightly to ease the motion, all the while pumping his cock with your hand to spread your saliva.

“Hnnn—fuck. Keep going darlin’…” The Demon praises you. Once you deem him sufficiently lubricated, you stick out your tongue and proceed to take more of his cock into your mouth. You stop half way before pulling back. You bring your head back down halfway, meeting your hand that pumps him from base to midway.

You set a slow place, squeezing him as hard as you can with your hand. You can hear his laboured breath as you suck his cock with practiced movements.

“You’ve done this before have you? Fucking whore…Bet you got men just lined up back home—!!!” His words come to abrupt halt, followed by a gasp, when you remove your hand from his cock and plunge the whole length into your mouth. He wasn’t expecting that.

You feel the tip of his dick stroke pass the base of your tongue and tease the inside of your neck. Though you’ve ever sucked any other cock other than your beloved, back when you were still relative to his size, he was sure to show you how to take his cock without chocking. Seems those lessons shall serve you well.

You pull back, tracing the vein on the side of his dick with your tongue. You bring his tip to your lips and swirl your tongue around it hastily, before sucking the whole length back down your throat.

“Ffffuuuuuck—” the Demon all but moans loudly, hips sway slightly.

He throws the knife to the floor suddenly, wraps your queue around one wrist, the grabs both sides of your head in his hands.

He starts fucking you like that, holding your head still and he pumps into your throat with reckless abandon. He unashamedly moans, feeling the soft smooth slick of your tongue graze his dick, while his tip meets the inner walls of your throat.

You don’t expect him to go so fast, the intrusion at such a speed shocks you, and you gag unintentionally. This doesn’t deter him at all though, seems to spur him on further. Faster he fucks you, powerful muscles clenched tight as he drives his hard cock down your bruising throat. Each time he can see the imprint of his dick push on your throat and it sends a jolt of pleasure through him.

You look up then, glistening eyes brimming with tears, nose running slightly. Your hands hold onto his wrists for balance. His face is contorted into one of inexplicable pleasure. Eyes half lidded, glazed over, mouth agape, he moans loudly without shame. He’s so close. He can feel it. He’s teetering on that precipice of release. He just needs a little bit more.

One hand leaves your head. He reaches to your shoulder to grab the lines of fabric there. With one powerful pull the threads break, beads and other small trinkets go flying about the room.

You make some kind of shocked noise around his cock; the vibrations send pleasurable waves all throughout.

“Aaaaahhh—fuck yes baby that’s it! Let me see you play with those pretty tits of yours! Come on now!” He yells as he brings his hand back to your head, holding you still once more, resuming his brutal pace.

Timidly you bring your hands to your now openly exposed breasts. You cup yourself in each hand, squeezing gently, you start to massage yourself in lazy circles. You moan around his cock without thinking, the feeling of playing yourself sending a small jolt of pleasure to your pussy.

“Come on baby, come on yes that’s it, you’re such a good girl for me, my fucking little savage whore! Just a little more!”

You move to pinch your nipples as you press your tits together, and you moan a muffled scream at the pleasure lighting your nerves.

That does it for him. With one final powerful thrust into your throat, he cums. Hard. You feel the thick streams of his seed coat the inner walls of your throat. He pulls back and thrusts back in a few more times, filling your mouth with his hot sticky cum.

He holds your head to the base of his cock, your nose pressed against his groin.

“Swallow it baby…Don’t waste a single drop now.” You swallow, drinking deep. You give his cock a couple hard sucks, making sure you drink every last drop. Slowly you pull your head back, his dick comes out with a pop. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue out of habit. Quaritch would always inspect your mouth like this, make sure you were a good girl and didn’t waste his gift to you.

The Demon smirks down at you, his breathing laboured. He sees your tail flick behind you, only then does he notice his also swaying behind him with reckless abandon. He releases your queue then. You almost weep at the relief that floods you. Without a word he puts his semi-soften cock back in his pants, collects his knife and secures it back in place. He gives himself a once over before turning to face you once more.

You’re still sitting on your knees. There’s a thick blush from your tits, up your neck, and splayed beautifully across your cheeks. You’re looking up at him with glistening eyes, apprehension on your face, clearly unsure of what is so happen now.

He clears his throat.

“I suggest, you think ‘bout cooperating. Next time, I might not be so nice.” He leaves without another word. You’re almost shocked by the hastened retreat. When the door shuts behind him, you release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

You immediately bring your braid to you front and hold it tight to your chest. You’re crying is renewed tenfold. To lose one’s queue is a fate worse than death. You’ve heard the horror stories. The pain, the fire, the seizures. It is an unsightly thing. And survival is not guaranteed. Even then, what sort of life could you really have, without your connection? Without being about to make tsaheylu? You continue to cry as you rock back on forth, tail wrapping around you in distress.

You swallow your excess saliva, still tasting that Demon’s cum on your tongue.

Without him here, looming over you with the threat of danger, you come to realise an awful thing.

He tastes just like Quaritch.

You all but scream in frustration as you cry even harder.

---

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @lvangel98, @rsclopez, @onlyreadz @manymaria111, @kristeen31xxx

---

<previous chapter> | 2 | <next chapter>

The Lie of Providence - Chapter 5 - Paths

word count: 2698

Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: family bonding

“blue text” is spoken Na'vi. ‘Italics’ are thoughts.

[previous chapter] | 5 | [next chapter]

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

When you and father return to the village, you find Mo’at already awake and preparing for her duties of the day.

“Mo’at, I must speak with you urgently.” Jake addresses her almost immediately.

“Good morning to you too ma Jake, ma [Y/N].” She chides him playfully, unawares of how serious he is. You greet her softly.

“Good morning Grandmother…” Her focus is immediately on you. She studies your face; that downcast gaze, the faint streaks left by tears.

“Come.” She commands and you two follow her into an unoccupied healer tent. She gestures you two to sit and she secures the entrance closed.

“Speak of your troubles.”

Once again you go through the motions of your nightmare. Again your tongue is held steadfast against mentions of the Human. You do not cry this time, far too drained now. When you are finished speaking you exhale deeply. Grandmother is quiet as she sits in front of you, studying you. Your father nervously shifts his gaze from you to her and back. He opens his mouth to speak but she swiftly lifts a hand to silence him, gaze never faltering from you.

Without a word she rises from her spot and swiftly leaves the tent. You look to your father confused, but he merely shrugs; equally baffled. Quickly she returns though, bringing with her a bowls, tools, and a satchel no doubt filled with various powders and plants.

She works without uttering a single word. She alights the small fire pit in the center of the tent space. You welcome the gentle heat as it washes away the morning chill. Your father moves to sit closer to you, putting a comforting arm around your shoulder as the two of you watch Mo’at work.

You watch with keen interest as she grinds dried plants into fine powders, quietly chanting as she does. She pulls the bone from her necklace and holds out her free hand expectantly to you. You understand immediately and offer a hand. She pricks a finger, putting a drop of your blood into her concoction. She grabs a handful of the powder and throws it upon the fire.

The flames roar to life suddenly, a dazzling dance of reds and purples awash the tent. You look at your arms and marvel as the colours are reflected perfectly in your pale tones. You wonder if other colours would dance so wonderfully on your skin too. Mo’at’s prayers are louder now as she gestures this way and that, a dance known only to her as Tsahik. Suddenly the fire burns dark red, bolder than fire should be, and immediately dies without warning. Mo’at gasps and inhales deeply.

She sits back on her haunches, hands folded in her lap.

“The Great Mother has spoken. She speaks of fire and brimstone. Of great shadows darkening the sky. The seas painted red with spilt blood. Of villages burning, our people dying. Of betrayal, vengeance, wrath…”

She looks up from the dead flames to meet your eyes.

“She speaks of you. A warning. Many paths lay before you. She did not reveal them to me. Only that you must choose the right one.”

You gulp. All of that sounded more ominous than helpful. In fact, the right path? What does that even mean? How are you supposed to know? What if you choose wrong? What then? Will you be the reason people die and villages burn?? Your suddenly filled with anxiety, such thoughts becoming too taxing for a 12-year-old girl.

“Hey Mo’at that’s enough! You’re scaring her!” Your father yells when he notices your laboured breath. There words become heated but you do not hear. Static fills your ears as you stare at your open palms.

You’re suddenly filled with a desire to see the Human. That cold gruff man. He’s been a constant in your life for many years now. Oh, you left him on that cliff. You hope he finds his way back to the waking world or where ever he comes from.

And before any of you realise it, you unwillingly fall into the embrace of darkness.

---

Miles Quaritch considers himself a sensible sort. Tough on his men, tougher on his opponents. Values loyalty above all else. Does not question authority, and does himself expect not to be questioned. That first day on Pandora, she made one thing very clear; this is not your home, and you do not make the rules here.

He wears his scars proudly, a reminder of what’s out there. Not just the animals and plants, but those savages too. Anything with a pulse is trying to kill you. Anything without a pulse can kill you too. But they have a job to do. Orders are orders and one way or another, they are going to get to that damn deposit of unobtainium.

The Avatar Program. What a fucking joke. Waste of time as far as he is concerned. Would be easier just to smoke out all the natives by force and blow the damn tree up. Minimal casualties of course, but such things are unavoidable. He suddenly wonders if you live in that big tree.

Urgh. He hates that he suddenly thought of you. Some native kid inhabiting a dream. He doesn’t like the lucid dreams. They feel far too real for his liking. He’d really like Jake to hurry the fuck up so he can be done with this planet and be on the next shuttle outta here. He can’t help his mind however, recalling the first time he had seen you. Jesus Christ you scared the shit outta him, looking like a damn ghost what with that pale skin and all. Turns out you were just a bratty kid who followed him everytime he dreamt these past few months.

He wonders then though, if his mind was playing tricks on him last time he dreamt of you. You looked, almost bigger? He’s not sure anymore. The low gravity of this planet must be fucking with his head and he can’t stand it. He sighs as he rubs a hand down his face. He’d love nothing more than to leave right now. Paz looks ready to pop anytime soon and he’d prefer if the boy was born on his real home planet, not this God forsaken moon. This was no place to raise a son.

Although he and Paz weren’t in a relationship per say, he knows he needs to do right by her and their son. So begrudgingly here he stays, following through with orders to the best of his ability, to ensure a future for his son, and to ensure he has a home to go back to once this is all over.

---

 Months pass and yet still you do not return to the shared dream. For this you are grateful as you have yet to experience another nightmare. You would be saddened to have not seen your human companion were this not the norm though; to go so long without another shared dream.

It might even take another year before he makes an appearance. But that is a worry for future you. Present day you has thought long and hard about Eywa’s less than straight forward answers. But as luck would have it, you have come up with a sort of plan.

As you recall, Eywa spoke of many paths to be laid before you, choosing the right one a crucial step toward the future. You wondered then, if perhaps this was hence tied to your future place in the clan; something not yet set in stone either.

Being the first born of Olo'eyktan, you had many choices in your future role to the clan, Leader of course being one of them. Alternatively, you could tutelage under Grandmother to become future Tsahik. This was once your mother’s destiny, but the war with the Sky People passed lead her instead down the path of the Warrior, to which she has since thrived. She is a remarkable huntress too, and you would be honoured to learn from her; another path you could choose.

There were also the Gatherers, experts in cultivating the land and foraging, making sure to take only what is needed to never upset the great balance. You could study craftmanship – becoming an expert in textiles, or one day having the privilege of using the Mother Loom. You could become a Clan Singer, studying under Ninat and learning the songs to bring joy around the cooking fires, or the prayers that are sung to honour the dead.

With so many ways you could fit into the clan, your genius idea was then to do it all.

Oh yes. You were going to study everything. Every last job afforded to you, you would give everything that you are and then some. Surely there could be no wrong path if you took EVERY path!

With this in mind you approach your parents and grandparent with the idea. Mo’at is apprehensive, becoming Tsakarem was a life long commitment. But as it would stand she doesn’t currently have anyone under her tutelage, so she relents. She places a condition though; were she to see a sign from Eywa regarding your future as Tsahik, she would end the training were it not to please the Great Mother. You agree wholeheartedly.

And so begins your training under dearest Grandmother.

And by the Great Mother is it exhausting. But equally as exhilarating. There is a thought in the back of your mind too, that if you can become one who interprets the Will of Eywa, there is the chance that your own future, and the dreams that may yet lie within, could become clearer to you. You could gain a better understanding of it all. Maybe.

Every morning then, you awaken before majority of the clan, and listen dutifully as Mo’at explains everything she does, and the reasons therein. She speaks of Eywa’s influence in the world around you, look for signs, the things others may not yet see. How she interprets these things. The rites that a Tsahik must perform for her people, the plants you use, the painting patterns, which paints to use and the colours and their meanings. There is even order in the burning powders for rituals and rites alike. It is a lot to take in. But you drink it up as though you are starved.

And when the sun approaches its zenith, you spend your time with Mother, she teaches you the ways of hunting. How to track the great beasts of Pandora, how to stealth through the forest but leave no trace behind. She begins teaching you to use a bow, and you and her are surprised to find you are remarkably proficient. She praises you greatly, and the two of you laugh over stories of how much she struggled to teach your father the very same weapon.

When the sun first kisses the horizon, you then spend time with Ninat, learning how to control your voice. Breathing exercise. How to hold notes and expanding your range. She tells you that you have a good voice, and will no doubt sing beautifully with time; if your own mother’s voice is anything to go by. With that in mind, you practice your singing in the evenings when Neytiri sings her personal songcord.

Your days are never the same though. Though each morning will always be spent with Tsahik, some afternoons you spend with father, he appoints himself to teach you the way of the Warrior. How to fight. And more importantly, how to wield a knife. Though he’s not ready to give you a proper blade yet, you are given a blunt wooden carving of one. Technique is of the most importance. The stances and body movements he teaches you, are Human techniques.

He appoints Tarsem, a young but extremely wise Warrior to teach you the native style of the clan. He hopes a broaden fighting style with multiple perspectives will keep you that much safer in the future.

Other evenings are spent with some of the Gatherers as they prepare food for the clan with the Hunters. You learn how to carve meat from bone, which parts of animals are for eating, the rest for healing or craftsmanship. There are some days where you join them out the forest, learning which plants are safe and which to avoid wholeheartedly. Which herbs mix well together, and which when combined make absolute and utter chaos.

The only downside to this sudden busy schedule, is you find yourself with far less time than before to spend with your siblings. It weighs heavy on your heart; especially when you have to refuse their offers to play when you have lessons.

You do the best you can to make time here and there. You are free though, well after the evening meal, when the sky is dark and full of stars. You sit with them and tell them stories of your day, the struggles of your training, the joys of doing things right. There is a big smile that spreads upon your face, ear to ear, as you regale them, almost nary stopping to breathe.

Then there are your days of Rest. One must allow oneself to replenish the energy that is borrowed from Eywa. These are the days you visit Hells Gate to spend time with Uncle Norm and Max catching up on your goings on. Spider is of course there too, eating up everything you see, wishing he too could be a part of your training.  By the Great Mother if you somehow become Clan Leader you will make sure he becomes an official member, and anyone who disagrees will answer to you.

---

2 Years pass. You are 15 now, almost a young adult. Your training still continues, though only to hone your skills. One development however, is that at some point you ceased your training as future Tsahik. Instead, Mo’at has appointed Kiri to be her new Tsakarem. And at 11 years old Kiri is more than excited. Any chance she can commune with the Great Mother she takes it. It means she get so communicate with her Birth Mother, Grace; a surprising thing to learn.

Your parents had waited until the older children, everyone except Tuk, were old enough to understand the story. How they found Grace’s avatar body pregnant without explanation, in its stasis pod. And how Kiri came into the world a little miracle, one they graciously took into their family to raise as their own. Now Kiri sometimes visits Hells Gate with Lo’ak in tow, the two of them growing closer to Spider as the years passed. But also it gives her a chance to see her other Mother, to watch videos of her talking about her love for Eywa and this world.

---

Hold your breath. Steady aim. Do not pull too tightly. Exhale on release. No sudden movements. Aim carefully and—the yerik just so happens to look up and immediately spots you, instantly scurrying off before you can let loose an arrow.

You cuss, growly in frustration of it all. This is not the first time something like this has happened. You are sure of it now. Being this pale against the backdrop of the forest’s deep greens and blues, you must stand out something fierce.

“Calm, [Y/N]. These things happen.” Your mother says and puts a comforting hand upon your shoulder.

“Sorry. I know. It’s just—incredibly frustrating.”

“What is, my sweet atokirina?”

You gesture vaguely up and down your whole body.

“This. This is. It makes me stand out. I can’t hunt like this Mama. They see me so fast…”

“Then we must try other techniques. From higher in the trees, or—”

“It’s not just the animals Mother…”

The words slip out before you even think. Damn. This wasn’t something you wanted to necessarily talk about. At least not yet. It was awkward. It was uncomfortable. And most of all, heart breaking. Neytiri scowls, not liking the implication behind those words.

“What do you mean, [Y/N]?”

You sigh deeply. ‘Eywa give me strength’. And so you decide to tell your mother, about your first heartbreak.

----------

A/N: Once again I'd like to give thanks to everyone that has liked and or reblogged this story. It really means a lot and is great motivation to keep going! I know you all must be frothing for the promised quaritch x reader content and I thank you for your patience. I promise it is coming! I just really wanted to get some world building in there; really delve into you as the reader and where you come from. I am eager to hear your thoughts. Let me know how ya'll feel about pacing and whatever else have you!

Also once again I apologies for any grammatical errors.

---

Tag List: @mynameisbaby9 @nissilou @d4rno @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @perseny

---

[previous chapter] | 5 | [next chapter]

The Lie of Providence - Chapter 4 - By Thy Father

word count: 1590

Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader A/N: A meaning conversation between Father and Daughter. Hope you like it! Remember to hmu if you'd like to be added to tag list. If I've left you off, it is by accident, so please let me know! As usual apologies for any grammatical errors!

"blue text" is spoken Na'vi. 'Italics' are thoughts.

<previous chapter> | 4 | <next chapter>

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Your sleep the next few days are restless. Though you do not return to the dream, the fear and anxiety alone kept slumber at bay. Neytiri is the first to notice your change in behaviour.

A mother is always watching, drinking in the splendour of her offspring. And something is indeed off with you. She decides to broach the topic to her husband.

“Ma Jake,” she catches him alone one evening, you and your siblings already asleep for the night; though not without great difficulty on your part.

“What’s up, babe?” Usually she would giggle to be addressed so in English, playfully hitting him for his silly behaviour, but tonight is not the night for flirting so she brushes it off.

“I fear something is wrong with [Y/N].” Neytiri’s ears pin back as she says this, looking into her beloved’s eyes. He can see the fear there, brewing. His own ears perk up in interest and anticipation, the ever-present flame inside to protect his family roaring to life.

“Tell me.”

“I have been watching and I have seen. These pass few days, she eats less, she smiles less. And when it is time to sleep, she fights to stay awake, like she is afraid. When she thinks no one is looking, her face, you can see sadness. Fear. But when I try to ask, she says she is fine. She smiles but it isn’t real. I do not like this Ma Jake…” her lips tremble slightly and immediately she’s pulled into a hug.

Jake rests his head on top of hers, planting a kiss to her hair. He gently sways back and forth, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she softly weeps.

“It’s okay, everything is gonna be okay…I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner,” he pulls back to wipe the tear stains with his thumbs. He cups her face and kisses her softly. He doesn’t pull away but rests his forehead against hers.

“It’s okay, I know you are busy. You are Olo'eyktan. You have many duties.”

“My duty is first and foremost to this family. And I’ll do whatever it damn well takes to keep you all safe.”

Neytiri smiles at him with an exasperated laugh, placing her hand over his.

“I know.”

---

It’s early morning in Pandora. The sun has only just broken the horizon, the golden yolk cascading across the sky. You left home before daybreak, needing somewhere quiet, somewhere you can be alone with your thoughts.

And so you took the short trek to the Tree of Souls. You round the back of the tree, resting upon its great trunk, curtained by its luminescent tendrils. You pull our knees up to your chest, fold your arms upon your knees, and rest your head therein. Your hair falls around you in golden splendour, damn still with the dewy diamonds of the morning shimmering in the morning glow.

Another dreamless sleep, yet restless all the same. The bags under your eyes are evident of that. You contemplate asking your Tsahik for guidance. Apprehension has stopped you thus far though; what if this was the Will of Eywa? You’re not sure how you’d feel about such an answer. What could you have done to deserve such suffering?

Your thoughts are interrupted by approaching footsteps. You tilt your head up to see your father approach and make himself comfortable beside you.

“Hey kid,” he greets you with a gentle smile, “you’re up early.”

You smile crookedly. “So are you.”

Jake smiles down at you and you put your head back into your arms. His casts downward as he thinks; he’s not sure how to broach this topic with you. But he sees what Neytiri sees; that brief moment of eye contact speaks volumes beyond words.

“Listen, [Y/N], your mother and I…We’re worried about you,” he starts off and puts an arm around you, pulling you into a side embrace. When you don’t say anything, he continues.

“You haven’t been eating properly. You don’t look as happy as you usually do. And you haven’t been sleeping properly either. What’s wrong kiddo? Tell your dear old Dad so he can make it better babygirl.”

You could almost cry from such words. But you are still afraid. Even if you do not dream, you still see those bleeding eyes. Red as blood, blacker than night. Even in your mind’s eye do they bore into your soul. Taking you apart piece by piece.

When you don’t say anything, you feel your father gently move your arms away and lift your head with both hands cradling your face. Glossy vermillion eyes meets that of lliquid gold. There is no judgement there. He is drenched in understanding. Your will shatters and you weep openly.

Instantly you are pulled into his lap, your head resting on his chest listening to rhythmic sound of his heartbeat. A strong heart. He rubs soothing patterns on your back as he holds you; gently shushing you with promised whispers of assurance. Your crying does eventually does subside, the catharsis of it all washing over you.

“Feel better?” You nod in response and move back to sit beside him, wiping the streaks from your face.

“You feeling up to tell me what’s been bothering you? Did something happen? Did…someone do something to you?”

You shake your head.

“No, no. No one did anything…But something did happen. You’ll probably think I’m crazy. Letting a dream—a nightmare make me feel like this.”

“[Y/N] I would never call you crazy, at least not to your face—” the jab is so unexpected he successfully rips a snort from you and you shove him playfully.

“Ha-ha you are so very funnyyyy” you droll at him.

“Heh, it worked didn’t it? Sorry don’t mean to derail. But I’m happy to see you smile, even just a little…I’m serious though [Y/N]; I won’t think you’re crazy. I’m your Dad, I love you unconditionally. And let’s not forget, this isn’t my original body? It’s a mix of Sky People, who I used to be, and Na’vi, which I now inhabit thanks to this here big ol’ magic spirit tree. Now that’s crazy to think about. So I promise sweetheart, you can talk to me about anything, and I won’t think you’re crazy.”

You smile and take a deep calming breath.

You explain to your father about the last dream you had. Something deep in you, rooted in the very core of your being, demands you omit your human companion. You speak of walking through the great forests of Pandora. The song of Eywa guiding you. You talk of coming upon the great Hometree of time passed. How it stood tall and proud, reverent are you to behold its splendour. You speak then, of the hook, the pain. To be pulled around and fall. The screaming till your throat hurts. Then suddenly having no mouth with which to scream.

And the eyes.

So many eyes.

They did not blink. Their gaze did not shift. Ever bleeding, so did they spread, the black sky awash in crimson. You speak of clawing your own skin in the dream, only to find the same marks marring your arms in the wake. You hid these carefully with wrappings, made it look as though you were simply adding to your clothing.

“It…it didn’t feel like a dream, Dad. It felt real. Like I was really there. Trapped. I couldn’t move I was so scared. And I couldn’t scream. All I could do was look back into those terrible eyes...” You wipe away a tear threatening to fall.

Jake is filled with trepidation. Initially he thought maybe you were upset about something simple, like the hardships you know you’ll face if you pursue being a hunter of the clan, or maybe you were just confused about where your place was in the clan. But this, something almost spiritual, he is unprepared for. He exhales a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, and places a comforting hand upon your back.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone, you must have felt so scared.”

You nod at his words.

“Listen, even back on Earth, people had scary dreams, nightmares even. Saw it a lot actually. You remember? I was a soldier, a warrior, back on Earth. And the fighting, the wars, it changes people. Lot of my brothers and sisters in arms spoke of seeing things they couldn’t explain. But it does help, if you talk to someone. Now, you obviously can talk to me, any time any place; just say the word.

Though I gotta be honest kid, I don’t know just how much help I’ll be, but I’ll do my damnest to help.  But if I can give you some advice, I think you should talk to your Grandmother. She is your Tsahik, and I feel like she’d be better suited to this kinda stuff. Maybe Eywa can help? You tried…?” he holds a tendril of The Tree in his hand. You shake your head.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Hmmno. Was too scared.” He nods and moves to stand. If you were too scared, he won't force you. When he’s up, he turns and holds out his hand to you.

“Alright then. Come on kid, let’s go see Mo’at, yeah?” A beat passes as you stare at the hand in front of you. You look up and when you see the soft expression of your father, you are filled with a determination you didn’t think possible. You take his hand and rise to your feet.

----

Tag list: @mynameisbaby9 @nissilou @d4rno @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @perseny

---

<previous chapter> | 4 | <next chapter>

The Lie of Providence - Chapter 3 - Red

word count: 2311

Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: Some might find the slight body horror imagery, though mild, in the final part disturbing. A/N: I'm starting a tag list if people are interested, please let me know :) It will be at the bottom of each chapter. Apologies for any grammatical mistakes - no beta we die like Tsu'tey QwQ

"blue text" is spoken Na'vi 'Italics' are thoughts.

<previous chapter> | 3 | <next chapter>

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Night is fast approaching. Your gaze is turned upward; admiring the delicate strokes of purples and oranges painted upon the expanse. You gather your little brood of siblings and escort them back home without too much fussing on their end.

You wish you could invite Spider to come eat with you, but alas he is bound by the laws of his People and cannot be without his mask whilst outside. You all hug him goodbye and he runs off with a wave of his hand back to Hell’s Gate.

You arrive just in time for the evening meal; the clan gathering around the Tree of Souls to eat together. It doesn’t take you long to find your parents and grandmother with food already set out for all the children, you included.

You all greet each other warmly as you all gather around and near each other to eat. You go over hugging your father and grandmother. You give your mother a side hug as she’s holding little Tuk to her breast on the other side. She kisses your temple and gives you an affectionate stroke to your golden tresses as you sit beside her; Kiri and Lo’ak immediately make themselves comfortable next to you. Neteyam squeezes himself between father and grandmother.

The evening passes uneventfully, filled with idle conversation and gentle laughter woven through the breeze. When you all eventually return home, the family cuddles together to listen as mother and father retell the story of how they met.

Mother leans back with Tuk tucked into her left. Father presses himself into her right, his head affectionately nuzzled into her neck. You lay yourself into his right side and he wraps an arm around you tightly. Lo’ak and Kiri have laid themselves across your legs and lay upon father’s chest. Neteyam plops himself in the space between mother’s legs, his head resting on her stomach. Father puts his left arm around her waist to pull her just that little bit closer.  To you, there is no safer place to be than in the warm embrace of your family. Sleep takes you faster than you expected.

---

Your eyes slowly flutter open. You find yourself standing somewhere indiscernible in the forest. Eywa's song fills your ears as they flick to and fro. You hear her voice through the animal calls in the distance, through the breeze as it rustles the plants all around you. You feel content and safe and are certain the Great Mother is watching over you in this dream.

You start off in a random direction, not caring where you are going, but it feels right. Everything around you unfamiliar, but at the same time you’re filled with a sense that you’ve been here before. As you admire your surroundings, you come upon something unexpected.

It’s your Dream Human, cursing to himself as he pushes through foliage, uncaring of the way he disturbs the life around him.

“Fucking hate this God damn FOREST and this God damn HEAT and ESPECIALLY—” there is a pause in his tirade when your eyes meet.

 “YOU.”

The parallels of him finishing his sentence and the deceleration of your presence are not lost to you.

“Gettin’ real sick and tired of sick ya face kid. What the hell’dya want? Get the hell outta my dreams!”

Did you hear him right? His dreams? These were YOUR dreams.

“These are my dreams Human. It is you who invades.”  Your tail flicks with slight annoyance. He frowns slightly but shakes his head. “Whatever. I’m not here to argue with some savage kid. Gotta get the hell outta here so I can wake up and be done with this shit.” You give him a puzzled look. He talks as though he is stuck in this dream.

“Speak plainly Human. You talk as if you are stuck in this dream.”

His eyes slightly widen at something unspoken, but he schools his expression back to a scowl so fast it was, almost, imperceivable. “Feels like I’ve been stuck in Hell’s cesspool for days now.”

You’re not sure on two of those words, but with the venom with which they are spoken, you are sure it was an insult to Eywa and her gifts.

“I will not stand here while you insult the Great Mother. This dream is over. I am leaving.” You close your eyes and try to will yourself to awaken, your face slowly scrunching as you concentrate.

He scoffs in amusement.

“You look constipated.”

You open your eyes and fix him with an annoyed growl, crossing your arms. It seems Eywa prefers that you stay for the time being, much to your dismay.

“Looks like you're stuck here too kid.”

An exasperated sigh leaves you.

There is a beat of silence as you to stare at each other, almost challenging one another.

Quaritch contemplates on that for a moment. He could threaten you, he is in fact quite over being here. And violence seems to be the only language you Hostiles seem to speak in common. Then again, you are, as far as he can tell, a child. You may not respond accordingly. And if run away crying then that's just another headache he doesn't want.

“Alright kid, got any bright ideas on how we get outta this place? Where the Hell even are we?”

"And why would I help you? As a matter of fact, why should I help you?"

"Well, you being stuck here too has presented an opportunity both timely and convenient."

"Go on..."

"You help me get the hell outta here, and I'll be outta your hair and outta this damn forest. An outcome your precious little Ayewah would agree with I am sure." You do your best to ignore the flagrant disrespect with which he speaks the Great Mother's name.

"Fine. But only to get you out of where you do not belong."

You contemplate for a moment on his original question. There could be many reasons. A shared dream is not something you have ever hear of, but if the Great Mother is involved? Who knows what is possible. There is also the chance that he is a soul bound to Eywa that has somehow unfortunately become entwined with yours. Heck he could even be a figment of your imagination, this all an elaborate dream spanning years. You are, after all, a descendant of what was once Human. You have not the faintest idea how being part Human, no matter how small, might affect your connection to Eywa.

“I don’t know what this place is. But even if it is just a dream, I think we can both agree we’d prefer it to be a pleasant one, wouldn’t you agree?”

“So what’d ya suggest?”

“We should leave, find somewhere safe to wait out until either of us wakes up.” He nods in agreement with your statement.

“Alright then. Lead the way Snowflake.” Your face scrunches at the unrecognised word.

“I do not understand.”

“Snowflake?”

“Yea cuz of, ya know,” he vaguely gestures to all of you.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You stare at each other for longer than necessary before you turn around and begin your trek. He follows, attempting to be mindful of his steps this time.

---

Time feels funny in a Dream. It feels like hours have passed, but in tandem so does it feel like mere minutes. A moment as fast as breathing takes a lifetime. And when you blink, the world around you changes. Scenery you have seen thousands of times, but new and unfamiliar at the same time. It is a confusing feeling. But you keep going. A gentle breeze has been following you, guiding you.

Eywa must be watching.  What could she possibly be planning? You know it is not your place to question the Great Mother, but a little clarity would be nice once in a while.

The trek continues in silence, save for the song Eywa sings through the forest itself. A small comfort. You are grateful that within a dream there is no need to drink or rest. The two of you could travel indefinitely.

When you next blink you have to stop yourself in your tracks almost immediately. You are high upon a mountain, and out in the distance, your ancestor’s great Hometree stands tall and proud.

“Shit-!” Quaritch cusses as he catches himself before he falls over the sheer cliff face. He peaks over the edge. The tree tops before are indistinguishable, even in a dream this would not be a fall he wants to take any time soon. But he notes that it might work in shocking him awake. File it away as a last-ditch effort plan.

“This is the place.” You state as you cannot tear your gaze away from Hometree. You hate that you and your siblings were robbed of the experience of living in such a great gift from Eywa. You loath the humans who had done this to you, to your people. You hate how this is now part of the story of your People. The Elders speak of it with such venom, you can almost taste it yourself when you listen.

But your people have known peace since. The humans you know in Hells Gate are all wonderful. They treat you nicely, joke with you and tell you stories so fantastical you scarcely believe them. A world so far away hidden among the stars. So far that Eywa herself cannot reach. You like those stories and wonder if you’ll dream of such a place one day; Eywa willing.

“This is the place for what?” Quaritch asks you, pulling you from your quiet contemplation. You turn to face him and place a hand upon your chest.

“I feel it here. This is the place Eywa wants us to be. It is here we wait.” He huffs in annoyance at your explanation.

“Wait for what?”

You shake your head.

“I’m not sure. To wake up I hope.”

He nods in agreement and plops himself down on the ground, resting his back on the flat side of rock, arms and legs crossed. ‘Might as well get comfortable’, you think.

You turn to look at him as inconspicuously as you can. His gaze remains unchanging, focused forward toward the Hometree. You wonder what is on his mind, but do not have the confidence to ask. You study the side profile of his face, framed by the morning sky. You take note of the large scars that mar his face. You’ve seen it before, but never have either of you spoken before today. You wonder if this is something he would answer.

You sit down a little bit away on a different rock and close your eyes. For the first time in a long time, you enjoy the sun as it blankets you in a warm embrace. The feeling of comfort is so astounding you’re not sure where the sunlight ends and your skin begins. But you enjoy it nonetheless, knowing you could not afford such comforts in the waking world; you burn far too easily. The thought of your skin becoming sunburnt drifts your thoughts back to the human and how his skin looks.

You open your mouth to ask but stop. There is a sudden pull in your belly. An uncomfortable tugging. You hastily stand up; it feels as though you have been hooked through the back and are being pulled backward.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” The human asks, he is side eyeing you but still faces towards the tree.

“I—I must go. I will be back shortly.” You’re not sure you even believe your own words, but the pulling is becoming near unbearable. As you turn around to walk away from the cliff edge, your foot does not meet solid ground as you expect; it meets nothing.

---

You’re free falling.

You scream until your throat feels raw.

You franticly look around for something to grab. There is nothing. The world all around you is black. You cannot even see your hands when you lift them to your face.

You try to scream again, to beg and plead Eywa for help. You can’t see anything. You are afraid. But no sound comes out. You put your hands to your face, and instead of your own lips you are met with skin. You have no mouth. You frantically start clawing at the space, trying to tear it open, nails cutting small red lines in your frantic onslaught.

The panic worsens. The fear rips through you like glass shards in your blood. Tears flow freely from your face, that you can at least feel. You’re turning this way and that when you in front of you, one giant eye opens up in the void.

Red sclera and iris, black pupil. It’s as if the whole world comes to a stop. You don’t even notice that you are no longer free falling. You’re on the ground, legs bent up in front of you, your arms wrapped around your knees as you stare up into the Eye. You squeeze yourself so tight your nails are making half moon cuts into the skin.

Movement to your left. Another eye opens in the dark to gaze down on you. Then two more. Then four. Then eight. Sixteen. They multiply faster than you can count. The entire would-be sky of void is ingulfed in a sea of red. Different shapes and sizes. All equally threatening. Comforting? Every emotion you could muster bombards your very being.

The eyes, thousands upon thousands of them, start to bleed as they stare down at you.

And with that final terrifying visage, you wake up.

---

Tag List: @mynameisbaby9 @nissilou @d4rno

---

<previous chapter> | 3 | <next chapter>

The Lie of Providence - Chapter 1 - Dreamweaver

word count: 1257

Rating: Adult, Explicit (eventually) Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Romance, Redemption Arc, Angst, Comfort, Family, Sibling Shenanigans, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt, Comfort, Dreams don't make sense, Eywa is testing you and you have not studied (chapters will come with their own tags/warnings if need be) Author's Note: I don't know what I'm doing LMAO! I havn't written fanfic in over a decade?? But I keep reading deliectable Quaritch x Reader fics so I got inspired to try my own! I hope you enjoy :)

"blue text" is spoken Na'vi. 'Italics' are inner thoughts.

<Master List> | 1 | <next chapter>

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The first dream comes when you are 6. The nestling warmth of your family is suddenly gone; replaced with a thick humidity. It clings to you, wrapped almost too tightly. Awareness seeps into you as you realize you are no longer in your family’s embrace. You’re somewhere high up on a cliff, and in the distance you can see a large Home Tree.

Is that the old tree of the Clan? Strange. You’ve seen the large fallen tree when your parents flew you over and explained a little bit of where your clan used to live. But this tree is standing upright and strong. It’s so far away though.

A huff to your left immediately interrupts your thoughts. You head quickly snaps to the direction of the sound and you freeze. A few feet in front of you, someone is standing near the cliff edge. No tail. No blue skin. And far to big for his height to be another kid. This is no Na’vi. That is one of the sky people.

Your voice is caught in your throat, you don’t recognise this stranger from any of the Sky People at Hell’s Gate. He stands with his arms crossed and back to you. His hair is as white as your skin, while his skin is dark as though he’d been out in the sun far too long.

“That is one big damn tree.” You hear him say though the words have no meaning to you. Deciding you’d rather be anywhere but here you attempt so silently back away.

However, in your retreat you happen to knock a few stray pebbles abound. The sound attracts the man’s attention, and with a quickness you weren’t expecting he’s turned to look behind him.

Your eyes meet instantly as he says, “Who the hell’re you?”

And so you fall into darkness with a scream.

You wake up crying soon after; your cries alerting you mother and father and even little Neteyam; though he was more upset about the noise rather than you crying.

“[Y/N], my little atokirina, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?” your mother whispers to you and she holds you tightly to her chest rubbing your back in a soothing motion.

You explain to your parents through sobs your encounter with the scary looking man from the Sky People. You don’t see the concerned look they share with each other. After a beat of silence your mother tells you not to worry, it was only a dream, and that she and your father will always be there to protect you. The Bad Sky People left a long time ago.

You fall asleep to the quiet lull of your mother’s voice as she sings you a prayer to Eywa for pleasant dreams.

---

You don’t see the man, ‘Human’ as your father explained was the word in the Sky People’s language, again for a long while.

The next dream visits you when you are 7.

You recognise the colourless expanse of Hells Gate. Maybe you’ll see Spider! You giggle as you run through the familiar surroundings. Maybe uncle Norm is around too! As you run through what you think is the right direction to where they may be, you realise that, there is in fact no one around. The entire base is empty. No Humans. No Dreamwalkers. Huh.

The world around you bends and warps around you as you move through area to area. You’re under cover now. The area is large and looks like it goes on forever in all directions. All around you see the weird metal Ikrans of the Humans. There are the big bodies some Humans like to climb in, makes them taller than Dad. The thought makes you giggle. You’re tempted to climb all over one when you remember your father had scolded you once for the very same thing. You huff in annoyance and continue walking in a random direction.

Your sensitive ears suddenly pick up on a sound. The clink of metal. The grunts of a person. Curious as ever you let the sound lead you. You come upon a Human, laying on his back on a very thin bed. He’s holding a thick stick with weird shaped black rocks on either end. You quietly watch the strange spectacle as he lifts the stick up and down, making the grunting sound you heard before.

And as children often do, you don’t think before speaking.

“What are you doing?”

Your sudden voice startles the Human. And with a quick huff he puts the stick on the poles behind him. Quickly he sits up and your eyes met.

Oh.

It’s that Human.

The one from the dream a long time ago.

But this time you aren’t afraid. You’re a strong Warrior of the Omatikaya Clan! Or at least, you will be; when you’re as tall as Dad that is. But for now, you can at least be brave! That’s what Mum and Dad say all the Warriors of your clan are.

“What the--? How did some savage’s kid get here? Get lost kid.”

Strange. He’s definitely not speaking Na’vi. But you most certainly understood him.

“You’re mean!” You huff at him and cross your arms. He stares at you, brows furrowed, anger evident upon his face. He sighs and decides to simply ignore you completely. Swivelling his legs over the side of the strange thin bed, you watch him grab one of the smaller sticks off to the side.

You watch curiously as he slowly moves it up and down in one hand. Was this a Human game? You’ll ask Spider and uncle Norm when you next see them.

“Is this a game? Can I play too?”

“No.”

“No it’s not a game? Oooooor no I can’t play?” “Both.”

“What is it then?”

“Training.”

Ah. You understand that. Training. The Warriors train. The Hunters train. You train, and you become strong. And when you are strong, you help the Clan. Keep people safe. You like the sounds of that. So this Human must be a warrior? Training to keep other Humans safe? The forest IS dangerous you muse to yourself. You conclude he must be good then. He just looks a little scary with that strange face you don’t recognise. And those scary scars on the side of his face. Warrior scars you decide. Just like some of the grown-ups from the clan!

“What are you training for?” You are curious if he trains to protect or to hunt. Maybe something else? Humans are very fascinating.

He stops his movements suddenly and turns his head to you. A pit forms in your stomach. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. It is angry. It is not nice. It feels like he is saying you do not belong. It is a look you have seen before, from some of the other children in the clan. You don’t like that look.

He stands up, dropping the stick as he does, it makes a loud BANG as it hits the floor, making you jump with a sudden fright though you don’t make a sound as you do. You do clasp your hands in front of you, your tail wrapping around your leg protectively.

He’s staring down at you with that same, evil look. And when he opens his mouth…

“So I can get rid of annoying brats like you.” He spits out at you and suddenly, he’s lunged straight for you.

And once again, you awaken with a start and a cry.

---

Author's Note: Sorry it's a little short! I'm just testing the waters so to speak :P

---

<Master List> | 1 | <next chapter>

The Lie of Providence - Recom/Na'vi Miles Quaritch x Na'vi Female Reader - Masterlist

Rating: Adult, Explicit (eventually) Relationships: Recom Miles Quaritch x AFAB Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Romance, Redemption Arc, Angst, Comfort, Family, Sibling Shenanigans, Eventual Smut, Fluff (might add more later), Dreams don't make sense, Ewya is testing you and you have not studied Author's Note: I don't know what I'm doing LMAO! I havn't written fanfic in over a decade?? But I keep reading deliectable Quaritch x Reader fics so I got inspired to try my own! I hope you enjoy :)

Summary: You are the eldest child of Jake & Neytiri. When you were a child, you had strange dreams of a Human man. As you grew older, so did your frequent dream visits. He is cold and mean to you. You don't understand why. Yet despite his disposition, sometimes he does engage with you in conversation. Miles is his name. But one day, the visits suddenly stop. You chalk it up to the imagination of a child. Yes that's what he was; an imaginary friend. Yet when you and your siblings are suddenly in trouble, caught in the clutches of Dreamwalkers, you are unsettled to see a familiar face. Though he doesn't seem to recognize you at all.

Chapter Index:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 (coming soon)

WE NEED PART 3!!!!! I LOVE THIS SM GOOD LORDDD

ミdaddy issues

part one | part two

🍓pairing: recom!miles quaritch x human fem reader

🍓tags: nsfw, interspecies relationship, jealousy, some mild unwanted touching (not quaritch) second-hand embarrassment, rough face-sitting, p in v sex, size kink

For several days after your little rendezvous with Quaritch, you’re practically walking on air. You may be walking with a slight limp, but still – you’ve never been so satisfied in your whole life. 

Not only have you just had very good sex with the man you’ve been crushing on for months, but the science guys that have been snickering over your embarrassing interest in Quaritch have been rather remarkably silent since. You’re not even as embarrassed as you think you should be, considering all of your co-workers overheard you getting absolutely pounded into the floor by the Colonel; and you know you weren’t quiet about it, either.

You’ve even been able to cover significant ground with your dissertation – thanks to the sample that Quaritch had so generously provided you with, you’ve been able to run tests that you’ve dreaming of for weeks now. The data generated meant that you were able to nearly finish your dissertation.

Things are good. At least, mostly.

That one steamy encounter in your lab certainly isn’t the only one you end up having with Quaritch. In the weeks that follow, you boldly search him out several times during the breaks you take from your research. Once or twice, he’s even come looking for you in the lab. But most often, you find him and he ends up in your quarters – there’s something so thrilling about having him there, so big and exotically alien with all of his intense focus on you. You get so delightfully familiar with his mouth, his rough textured tongue, his enormous ridged cock, his large, thick-fingered hands. 

You could never have dreamed of your silly crush blooming into this with him, soft touches in the privacy of your quarters as he holds you to his big chest after fucking you so good that you practically go cross-eyed. You love having him in your quarters; it’s always a little comical to see his enormous body all curled up on your little human-sized bed, after all. In those quiet moments after sex, you’re able to delight in sharing skin to skin contact with him as he strokes over your much smaller body. It’s peaceful.

The only thing is, other than your little encounters, you hardly see Quaritch at all.

The recoms are busy, you know that, and often they’re sent out into the wilds of Pandora for days or even weeks at a time. Quaritch is an important man, and he’s got a lot on his plate. So for the most part, you only really see him from a distance. 

And it’s fine, really. It’s not like you had really expected things to change dramatically between you. He had told you very clearly that he wasn’t looking for anything romantic or anything like that; besides, he doesn’t exactly strike you as the romantic type. 

It’s silly to be disappointed. And yet, you are. You’re not even really sure what you had been expecting after that first time, but you suppose you had just been hoping for something a little more after crushing on him for so long. But you don’t want to be pushy or needy – you’re grateful for what he’s giving you, after all, and you don’t want to ruin the tentative little arrangement between you just because your crush has gotten a little out of hand.

It takes weeks before Geiszler manages to work up the courage to return to your little work room. It’s really just a little storage room filled with unused desks and old lab equipment, but you still feel much more comfortable in that room than in the main lab filled with scientists that side-eye you and openly snicker at you over your involvement with Quaritch. You’d prefer not to face that judgement, especially since those bastards had humiliated you with the dildo stunt already.

The sound of the door sliding open has your head snapping up from your research – you’ve started to associate that door sliding open with Quaritch’s arrival, and you find your stomach dropping a little in disappointment when you realise that it’s Geiszler rather than the Colonel’s familiar big blue body.

“Hey.” He says, shuffling his feet against the linoleum floor. He looks terribly uncomfortable, and pushes his wire-framed glasses up on his nose when they slip down.

You blink at him. Truthfully, you’re a little bewildered to see him. Ever since Quaritch had ordered him out of this same room before he had fucked you right into the floor, Geiszler had been avoiding you. In fairness, you hadn’t made much of an effort to seek him out either, but usually you didn’t have to. He was a pretty constant presence around the lab, and he usually sat with you at mealtimes too; his absence has been obvious.

“Hi.” You say, blinking stupidly at him.

Geiszler clears his throat and steps around some of the unused desks, approaching you where you sit. 

“I, uh…” He trails off for a second, before he seems to rally himself. “I thought I’d check in on you. See how you were doing.”

That throws you, and all you can do is stare at him in bewilderment. “Oh. Um… That’s nice of you. Yeah, I’m doing good.”

You’re not altogether certain of where you stand with Geiszler, either. Before the dildo incident, you think that you would call yourselves tentative friends. But now, things are undeniably awkward.

“Good. That’s good.” Geiszler is nodding. He leans his hip against your desk, but he can’t quite seem to meet your eyes. “Listen… I wanted to apologise.”

That makes you pause, and you squint at him.

“For what? The dildo thing? You already apologised for that.”

He laughs, but it’s high-pitched and obviously nervous. “Right, yeah. Um… it turned out pretty good for you though, I guess. So no harm done, right?”

“Other than my dignity being irreparably damaged?” You ask drily.

“Well,” Geiszler’s awkward smile melts into a cheeky grin – it’s a look that’s much more familiar to you than the oddly contrite expression he had been wearing before. “I don’t think the dildo did any more damage to your dignity than the fact that everyone could hear you encounter the real thing.”

Your mouth drops open. It’s not that the words themselves have shocked you (you knew that they had heard, on some level), it’s the fact that Geiszler is bold enough to actually say it to your face after so much awkwardness. Still, you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay,” You giggle, returning his grin. “Fair enough.”

Geiszler’s whole face seems to relax at that, as though he’s impossibly relieved that you’re able to laugh over it now. Some of the awkwardness seems to leak out of his demeanour too, which is a relief. The atmosphere is a little more natural between you now, like it was before the whole dildo incident.

Tentatively, he reaches for a chair and drags it over so that he can sit next to you at your desk. He’s a little closer than usual, but you don’t pay him much mind. It’s a bit of a relief, actually – you don’t have any real friends, and most of the science guys don’t take you seriously at all. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if he is a bit of a dick.

“Am I forgiven?” He asks, his eyebrows raising hopefully. “Friends again?”

You roll your eyes, but you’ve softened already. You can’t even be all that annoyed considering that his stupid stunt had ended up with you getting dicked down by the finest man you’ve ever met in your whole life. Besides, friends are in short supply here – you don’t want to alienate the only one you actually have.

“Yeah.” You grumble, though your mouth is quirked up in a little grin. “Fine. Friends.”

Geiszler brightens up, before running a hand through his hair in a nervous sort of gesture. Despite the fact that much of the awkwardness has dissipated, Geiszler still looks oddly jittery.

“So,” He says in a would-be casual tone. “You and Quaritch, huh?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you turn hastily back to your research in an attempt to look busy. You flounder for a moment, clumsily attempting to reorganise your papers.

“Hm?” You ask, trying to pretend like you hadn’t heard him in the hopes that he’ll drop the subject.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Geiszler laughs. His chair squeaks against the floor as he shuffles forward, even closer to you. “Come on! I was practically the matchmaker, right? You gotta give me some details, here.”

Your skin is prickling with mortification now, though you try to swallow it down and act unaffected. It’s only Geiszler asking, after all. 

“Um…” You clear your throat, flustered. “There’s really not that much to say.”

“How accurate was the dildo?”

“Geiszler!” You deliver a sharp stinging smack to his shoulder and he yelps, jolting away from you. “You absolute pervert-”

“I thought we were friends-!” He yells back, but he’s visibly laughing. “Come on, it stays between us! You can tell me!”

He’s so stupid. And yet, you’re hesitating a little. Being one of the very few women on the team of xenobotanists can be tough, even more so when you’re also one of the youngest and you haven’t even gotten your doctoral qualification yet. It can be lonely, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t terribly eager for somebody to talk to about things.

“It-” You begin, flushed hot with embarrassment. “He- I mean, um. It was pretty accurate. There were some things you missed, though.”

Geiszler pulls a funny sort of face, before his expression settles into one of mock thoughtfulness. “I see. So… you did end up using that dildo then?”

You choke, turning on him again. He dodges back before you can slap at his shoulder again, but his grin has gotten impossibly wider.

“Don’t be fucking weird about it.” You complain, turning your face away from him so he can’t see your face. “Miles has already given me enough shit about it-”

“Oh, Miles, huh?” Geiszler is still grinning, and he shuffles closer again now that he’s no longer in danger of being smacked. “Damn, you’re calling the Colonel Miles now?”

You breathe out a nervous laugh, flustered and embarrassed. “I guess. Not in public, obviously.”

“Why not?” Geiszler asks immediately, leaning forward over your desk and leaning his elbow on the tabletop so he can rest his chin in his palm. “He doesn’t want to show you off? He certainly wasn’t trying to hide it when he was in here before-”

“Jesus, stop fucking talking about that,” You hiss, scowling at him. “It was like one time-”

“You know, the walls in this room are pretty thin, and everyone in the main lab can hear when he-”

“Okay, okay,” You say quickly. “So it was a couple of times! Whatever!”

Geiszler giggles. His fingers are tapping repeatedly against the desktop as though he’s nervous, though his grin is still bright as ever. 

“So…” He says slowly, “What’s up with you guys, then? Are you, like, together now?”

You bite at your lower lip as you consider his question, pushing your research to the side so that you can rest your elbows on the desk. That really was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

“Nah,” You murmur, fingers picking absently at a stray bit of paper. “Don’t think he wants anything serious.”

“But you do?”

“Fucking hell,” You turn to give him a side eye, but soften it with a little smile. “What’s with the third degree, huh? You’re worse than the RDA-mandated therapists.”

Geiszler laughs, but obediently backs off. “Sorry, sorry. Can’t blame me for being curious, can you?”

You suppose you can’t, so you just hum non-committedly. It is a strange situation, you suppose.

“Whatever,” You say with a sigh, before waving your hands in a shooing motion. “Go on, get out of here. I have work to do.”

Geiszler does as he’s told, pushing himself away from the desk as his gaze darts over the structured mess of your desk.

“Sure, sure.” He says good-naturedly. “Still working on the dissertation? You nearly done?”

“Yeah.” You beam reflexively, impossibly proud of all your hard work. “The sample that the recoms brought me has been such a lifesaver! I’ll be able to submit everything this week, I think!”

“Hey, that’s amazing!” Geiszler says, reaching out to clap you cheerfully on the shoulder. “Really awesome! You deserve it. We should celebrate after!”

You hesitate for a split-second, a little bewildered about the way his hand is lingering a little oddly on your back. But then he pulls away, and you decide you were probably imagining it.

“Right!” You say, smiling. “Sure.” 

Geiszler shoots you a blinding grin along with some finger guns, which is a gesture that’s so cheesy that you have to fight not to visibly cringe. With that he leaves you alone once more, so that you can return to burying your head in your research, forcing all thoughts of your relationship (or lack of it) with Quaritch out of your mind for good.

Friday evening marks a full week since you’ve seen Quaritch.

It’s not unusual, exactly, considering his work and yours usually keep you occupied in different sections of the base entirely, but still. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t been hoping that he would come and see you at some point during the week. You’re overly aware of the fact that it’s almost always you seeking him out, and so rarely the other way around.

You’re even more aware of this after your conversation with Geiszler – it’s not that he had said anything surprising, but just talking about it had highlighted the fact that you really weren’t sure where you stood with Quaritch at all. Now that you’ve started thinking about it, you just can’t stop. 

Would it be selfish to ask for more? Is it presumptuous to hope that he might be willing to offer more? What would you do if he turned you down? Fuck, how would you recover from that?

In the end, you decide to leave the matter for now. It can be a topic of discussion for another time.

But then Friday afternoon rolls around, and you hit a milestone. After three long years of arduous research, your doctoral thesis has been submitted. It’s a momentous occasion, and yet you find yourself alone in your lab with no one to celebrate with.

The sensible thing would probably be to go and find Geiszler. He’s a co-worker, and a tentative friend, and he has experience with the very same process you’ve just gone through – plus, he’s already made you a promise to celebrate with you! 

It would probably be a better idea to stick to building upon the budding friendships in the science department – but instead you find yourself slipping out of the lab and wandering down the halls, your mind set on finding one person in particular.

Despite how little you’ve seen of him recently, Quaritch isn’t actually a difficult man to find. 

Bridgehead City may be an enormous, sprawling structure, but the recoms are encouraged to stay close to the medical and science wings just in case something goes wrong. Many of the facilities in this part of the base have been built to accommodate their much larger Na’vi bodies; the gym being one of them.

Like most of the facilities, a separate section has been built in the gym containing appropriate equipment for the recoms. You need to strap an exo-pack mask over your face so that you can breathe the air in there, but then you slip into the room with no problem. You’re not even particularly out of place in the enormous gym; there are several other human scientists milling around with datapads, though they’re clearly observing and taking notes on the recoms’ athletic performance.

You spot Quaritch near the back of the gym. He’s impossible to miss, really. Even if he weren’t nine-feet-tall and bright blue, you’re certain you’d be able to locate him based on the sheer amount of overwhelmingly commanding energy that pours off him at any given moment – his presence fills the room.

You pick your way around the enormous gym equipment, trying not to feel like a child in a playground. Overall, you do a pretty good job at not being noticed. You don’t think you could handle another encounter with his squad; you’ve done your absolute utmost to avoid all of them ever since the dildo fiasco.

As you approach Quaritch, you begin to falter. He’s lifting weights, all stretched out across the bench press with his thin vest clinging to his chest. Though a single barbell probably outweighs you, the motion looks effortless. There’s the faintest glimmer of sweat across his brow, but otherwise he hardly seems to be affected by the exertion at all other than the occasional grunt he lets out. You get a little distracted by the way his biceps flex and bunch with every curl of his arms.

Fuck, what are you even doing here? Why would he even care about your stupid dissertation? What are you hoping to achieve with this?

Your steps falter, and then movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. It’s one of the recoms – Lopez, you think – watching you with curious eyes. He turns and murmurs something to Z-dog beside him, who turns to look at you too before nudging him with a grin. 

Your face grows hot, mortified; you’re unwillingly reminded of the way Wainfleet and Fike had snickered at you that day in your little workroom.

Embarrassed, you force yourself to close the last bit of remaining distance between you and the Colonel. You’ve come this far anyway, and you can’t face the thought of his squad watching you chicken out.

He looks up as you approach, and you can see surprise register on his face as his ears press back against the sides of his head. With one last heave, he sets his weights back on the bar before pushing himself up into a sitting position on the bench press.

“Hey, kid,” He greets, his elbows resting on his thighs as he watches you approach. “What’re you doing here?”

You step up to the bench press, close enough that you can admire the way a couple beads of sweat glisten on his smooth, muscled chest. Even after all the times you’ve seen him completely naked, you still get flustered when you’re faced with how impossibly attractive he is.

“I finished it,” You murmur to him quietly, hyper-aware of the stares your appearance in the gym has started to garner from the members of his team that are training at various points around the room. “My dissertation, I mean.”

You’re expecting a dismissal, or a half-hearted congratulations maybe. You’re not expecting Quaritch’s face to relax into a genuine little grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he tilts his head to look at you. 

“Yeah? Nice job, princess.”

You flush, growing warm and flustered from the praise. “Well, I’ve only just submitted it. I’ll have to go through the thesis defence, but hopefully they’ll be able to speed that process up.”

Quaritch is watching your face, his big golden eyes assessing as he evaluates every little expression of yours. It’s always intimidating to be under his scrutiny like this, but a little part of you is flattered to be the sole recipient of his attention like this every time.

“Smart girl.” He murmurs at last, mouth quirking. “This mean you can stop spending so much time in that dirty little room?”

You snort, amused despite yourself. “No. That dirty little room is my space. It’s easier to work there by myself than with the other guys in the main lab.”

Quaritch’s eyes narrow, and he leans forward a little. “Those little pubes still bothering you?”

You think back to your conversation with Geiszler from earlier that week – it had gone well, and you’ve seen him almost every day this week. He’s hardly teased you at all about Quaritch, in fact, which is the opposite of what you had expected. He’s been very respectful and very work-appropriate.

“No, actually.” You say with a satisfied sort of smile. “Everything is good.”

Quaritch grunts softly in acknowledgement, before sitting up a little straighter. “Why don’t I drop by the lab later? I’ve got a few things to finish up here.”

You can’t help the way your stomach wobbles, butterflies fluttering wildly in your belly. You’re almost embarrassed about the effect he has on you, but not embarrassed enough considering you’re still smiling dopily up at him.

“Yeah,” You breathe. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

Quaritch’s smile turns cocky, his mouth curving up as he watches your reaction. “Yeah?”

You grin back, and try not to nod too eagerly. You can still feel the eyes of Quaritch’s squad on you, watching intently as you converse quietly with their superior office. Curiosity is practically radiating off them, and you’re sure there are more than one pair of twitching ears trying to listen in on your conversation.

“Was that all?” Quaritch asks, “Or did you just come here to see me?”

Ah, busted. Your grin turns a little bashful, and you scratch absently at your elbow.

“I just wanted to tell someone about my dissertation, I guess.” You say with a little shrug.

Quaritch hums, amused, before pushing himself up from the bench to his full, impressive height. Suddenly, you find yourself eye level with his belt, and you have to tilt your head all the way back to be able to look him in the eye.

“You did good, girl.” He says, reaching out to pat you on the shoulder. “Well done.”

His hand lingers, his long fingers curling around your shoulder and resting along the back of your neck. It’s the kind of touch that makes you shiver a little, and you lean into his hand just to feel the heat of his skin against yours. It puts you in mind of the back pat Geiszler had given you earlier; you wonder how it’s possible for the same gesture to feel so unbelievably different from two different people.

You smile, bright and joyful. His praise settles low and warm in your belly, making you feel weightless and airy. The effect he has on you is a little embarrassing, but you don’t even care. You’re lost in the moment, staring up at his sharp-boned, handsome face as you revel in his approval. 

You clear your throat. “I’ll, um.. I’ll see you later, then?”

“Yeah,” Quaritch removes his hand from your shoulder, to your dismay. “See you then, kid.”

Despite the fact that you’ve already seen him, you take a little time to fix yourself up that evening as you await Quaritch’s arrival. You’ve changed into one of your cute little dresses under your lab coat, and you add a little bit of makeup and fix your hair. You just want to look pretty for him.

You’re just adjusting some of the gloss at the corner of your lips when the doors to your little work room slide open. You hurriedly put down your lipgloss and turn to the door with a smile on your face; it falters when you see that it’s Geiszler who has just stepped in.

“Oh,” You say, surprised. “Hey.”

Geiszler smiles back at you as he saunters his way into the room; bizarrely, he looks nervous.

“Hey!” He greets, a little more upbeat than usual. “Congratulations on the thesis!”

“Oh, thank you!” You relax, realising now why he’s here. “God, it hardly even feels real, you know.”

Geiszler just chuckles; just like last time, he grabs a chair and drags it over so that he can sit close to you. His eyes are darting over your face, and you try not to get self-conscious about it; you can only guess that he’s eyeing the way you’ve prettied yourself up with makeup.

“I brought you this,” He clears his throat, and brings his arm out from behind his back. You hadn’t even noticed that he was attempting to hide a large bottle in his hands. “Uh… Steiner from exobiology has been brewing his own vodka with some of the freeze-dried potatoes we brought from Earth. Here – it’s a congratulations present.”

When he places the bottle on the table, you accept it with a gracious if not surprised smile. It’s a rarity to get something like this, and the idea of being gifted vodka on an alien planet is a total novelty. You grin as you peer at the clear liquid inside the glass bottle.

“Damn, thank you!” You say with a short little chuckle. “This was a lovely thought.”

Geiszler seems pleased with your reaction, though he just shrugs his shoulders as though it’s no big deal. “Yeah, well, I figured I owed you something nice after being a dick to you before.”

You try not to sigh. It seems like he’s just going to keep bringing that up, no matter how many times you try to get him to drop it. 

“Well, thanks.”

Geiszler leans forward, planting his elbows on the desk beside you. He’s very close to you now, close enough for you to start side-eyeing him but not close enough for you to really justify pulling away. 

“You look nice.” He says simply, offering you another little smile. “I’m guessing you have plans for the evening?”

You clear your throat, but you can’t help the little smile that’s starting to creep over your face. “Yeah. I’m just waiting-”

“For Quaritch?” Geiszler interrupts you, though his voice is still casual and his expression doesn’t change. “Well, he’s a lucky man. Is it date night? He taking you somewhere nice?”

Your smile falters a little. No, it’s not date night. Quaritch has been clear from the start that he doesn’t want anything like a relationship, and he’s been true to his word this whole time. He comes around for sex, and it’s very good sex, but sex is all it ever is. And that’s fine! You’re fine with just the sex! But you have to admit, some part of you yearns for a little more than that.

“Um, no.” You say at last, swallowing and hitching your smile back up. “No, nothing like that. Just a quiet night in, probably.”

Judging by the eyebrow raise, Geiszler is perfectly capable of translating between the lines. He gives you a sympathetic look, the type that makes irritation prickle all up the back of your neck, before leaning in just a little closer as he drops his voice.

“I know you like him,” He begins, his voice lowering to a murmur despite the fact that the two of you are alone in your little work room. “But is this really what you want? Someone that won’t even take you on dates? That only uses you as something to fuck?”

Your spine stiffens, your eyes growing wide. What the fuck? The sheer boldness of his words takes you by surprise, and all you can do for a long moment is stare at him. 

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, is the first thing that crosses your mind, irritated and dismissive. But then you pause, and bite at your lip. It’s not something you want to admit to yourself, but he does have somewhat of a point. 

Is it unreasonable to hope for more from the Colonel? He had told you straight out that he didn’t want anything from you the day of the dildo incident, but then he had contradicted himself when he had returned to your lab barely a week later with a brand new sample of panopyra fluid before promptly fucking you stupid right there on the workroom floor. He had never brought up your relationship status (or lack thereof) again, though you felt like his silence on the matter spoke volumes.

It’s not selfish to wish quietly for a deeper level of intimacy with the man you’re so damn infatuated with, is it? You want to be able to hold his big hands, to comfort him when he’s stressed, to tell him about your day, to share a bed and just sleep, to go on dates. They’re thoughts that you’ve been trying hard to keep stifled for the past several weeks for exactly this reason – you just knew that if you allowed yourself to think them, they would consume you.

Now that Geiszler has opened this can of worms, you end up shifting uncomfortably on your stool. As if he can see your doubt, he leans in yet again.

“Don’t you think you’ve gotten him out of your system by now?” He asks, so quietly that you almost have to strain to hear him. 

You open your mouth hesitantly, but you never get to make a reply. The sound of the door sliding open behind causes you to jolt in surprise; for the first time you realise just how close Geiszler has gotten to you, and you lean hastily away.

You shove yourself off the stool you’ve been sitting on, and whirl around to find that Quaritch has finally shown up.

“Miles,” You breathe, reaching to smooth down your dress. “Hey.”

Quaritch steps inside your dingy little workroom, ducking down so that he can fit through the doorway. You can see him physically pause when he catches sight of Geiszler. It seems to take a moment for him to actually place him, but when he does recognition settles darkly over his face.

“Hey, kid.” He greets, though he doesn’t look away from Geiszler. “What are you up to?”

You clear your throat again, and fight not to fidget with your fingers. You feel bizarrely guilty, which is stupid. There’s nothing wrong with talking to Geiszler, and there’s nothing wrong with questioning where you stand with Quaritch. 

“Nothing!” You say, but it comes out much too quickly to be entirely believable. 

His big golden eyes flick in your direction, and you find yourself struggling to meet his stare. He’s so good at reading your thoughts by your expression alone, and you’re embarrassed about this. 

There’s a brief silence, and then Quaritch steps forward again. He has to walk with his head ducked and shoulders hunched in order to avoid hitting the ceiling; this room is much smaller than the main lab, and was never intended for bodies as large as his. You watch him approach, your stomach tightening in the same anticipatory knot you always get when he’s close. You’re only distantly aware of the way that Geiszler shuffles to the left, adding about an inch of distance between you.

You’re still a little flustered from your conversation with Geiszler, and you find yourself scrambling a little bit as Quaritch comes closer. You reach out and grab at the bottle Geiszler had gifted you and hold it up.

“Look, Geiszler brought a gift! Isn’t this cool?” You babble. “It’s vodka! Made from- uh, potatoes!”

Quaritch has grown accustomed enough to your mannerisms in the past couple of weeks that your nervous babbling doesn’t phase him in the slightest. He drops into a crouch next to you, his movements as quick and graceful as a cat, before reaching out to grasp your wrist so he can get a better look at what you’re holding.

“Well, would ya look at that.” He says. His tone is perfectly mild, yet when his eyes slide over to Geiszler they flash a little darker. “He certainly does like bringing you presents, don’t he?”

Geiszler has grown a little pale, and he shoots a quick glance your way. You just smile at him – Quaritch can be a little scary, sure, but you know that Geiszler doesn’t really have anything to worry about. Most likely, he’s just a little irritated still about the whole dildo situation.

“It was a lovely thought.” You say, placing the bottle back on the tabletop. “I haven’t had alcohol since I came to Pandora.”

Geiszler visibly brightens. “Nah, it was nothing. You’ve been working so hard, you deserve some kind of reward.”

You beam, delighted. It feels great to have your hard work recognised, especially after so long working with much older scientists that have treated you like nothing more than an intern. 

Beside you, Quaritch shifts, and you startle a little when his arm comes around your back as a warm weight plants itself on your ass. You can feel the heat of his palm and fingers through the fabric of your lab coat and dress, and you struggle to stifle the physical shiver that runs through you when he squeezes a little.

You glance up at him, but he’s not even looking at you; his eyes are still fixed on Geiszler, hardly even blinking. He reminds you a little of a jungle predator, the line of his body taut with barely restrained danger.

Your face grows hot, but you don’t move away from him. His hand remains firmly planted on your asscheek. It doesn’t feel like he has any plans to move it. 

You clear your throat a little as you attempt to continue the conversation as though Quaritch isn’t currently unashamedly groping you.

“Well, thank you.” You murmur, hoping that your smile doesn’t seem too strained. “I still can’t believe I’m gonna get my doctorate.”

“It’s well-deserved.” Geiszler’s voice is oddly soft, almost uncharacteristically so. “You’ll be the sweetest botanist we have, I think.”

That seems like a bizarrely condescending thing to say, and your brow pinches a little. You think he means it as a compliment, but it’s yet another reminder that the other scientists don’t really seem to see you as being on the same level as them.

Quaritch has been strangely quiet up until this point, content to simply stare Geiszler down with his big yellow eyes, but that comment makes him snort.

“Oh, don’t let the sweetness fool ya,” He drawls, his upper lip peeling up in a smirk to reveal sharp teeth. “Girl’s a brat.”

You jolt, swinging your head around to stare up at him in disbelief. For a moment, you wonder if you had misheard him, but his smirk is unmistakably challenging as he watches Geiszler for a reaction.

“Miles!” You hiss, mortified.

Quaritch finally looks away from Geiszler, just so he can roll his head around and blink down at you. He doesn’t look sorry in the least; in fact, he just grins at you.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” He asks, his tone falsely sugar-sweet. “You’re not usually so embarrassed.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed and bewildered. Your cheeks are still hot, and bizarrely you find yourself growing a little hyper-aware of how attractive he is. Your eyes dart over his high cheekbones and big eyes, the deep blue of his skin and the pretty white bioluminescent dots freckled across his nose. His big hand flexes, encompassing the whole swell of your ass, and you take a breath.

You look away hastily, having lost the thread of your thoughts, and your eyes find Geiszler once more. The look he’s giving you is significant, his eyebrows raised behind his large wide glasses, and you’re struck again by what he had said earlier.

‘Is this really what you want? Someone that won’t even take you on dates? That only uses you as something to fuck?’

Flushed, you look down at your feet. God, you really can’t help yourself, can you?

“Alright, why don’t you head out now?” Quaritch says above you, tossing a quick look Geiszler’s way.

His glower is unmistakable, and Geiszler flinches a little under the heavy weight of it. He takes a step back as though he can’t help himself, before darting a glance in your direction.

“Right. Yeah. Um,” Despite the way he’s visibly cowering slightly in Quaritch’s presence, Geiszler still manages to gather enough courage to shoot you a smile. “Congratulations again. We’ll celebrate another time, right?”

“Yeah.” You nod, offering him a tight smile. “Sure.”

Geiszler’s smile turns more genuine as he walks backwards towards the door, as though putting additional space between him and Quaritch is making him a little braver. 

“Hey, think about what I said!” He calls once he’s at the door, just before he ducks out of the room. “See you tomorrow!”

There’s a long moment of silence as the door slides shut behind him. You’re biting at your lip, brow furrowed – as much as you’d like to put his words firmly out of your head, you know that it’s going to stick with you for the foreseeable future.

Movement at your side pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up to find Quaritch scowling at the door that Geiszler has disappeared out of.

“I do not like that guy.” He grumbles, nose twitching. 

You laugh a little breathlessly, unable to help yourself. “He’s not so bad.”

Quaritch turns his head to look at you, his expression one of firm disbelief. “What? Is he not the slimy little creep that gave you that sex toy you were all upset over?”

The memory makes your skin prickle with remembered humiliation, and you roll your eyes in an attempt to appear casual.

“I was upset because you and your squad of morons ruined my research, not over the dildo.” You mumble, finally stepping away from him. “Besides, I thought you liked that dildo – it helped me get ready for you, didn’t it?”

Usually that would be enough to distract him, but it seems like Geiszler’s presence has gotten under his skin more than you realised. You had forgotten that Quaritch had such a dislike for the scientists that work around Bridgehead; his remarks about your research and your interest in xenobotany has always been mostly teasing, after all.

“I seem to remember you throwing things, kid.” He reminds you, lowering himself a little further so he’s at eye-level with you. “You tellin’ me that was just for me?”

You breathe a short laugh, glancing away. As much as you love looking at his big handsome face, you find it difficult sometimes to maintain eye contact with him. He’s just so intense about everything, and you feel as though you’re being examined.

“Well, maybe you push my buttons more than he does.”

Quaritch makes an odd little grunting sound, his eyes still flicking over your face. He’s sat back on his hunkers in front of you, though he reaches out and places a large hand against your waist. You lean into his touch on reflex, enjoying the pleasant heat of his palm through your clothes.

“What was that he was saying?” He asks, his voice low. “Was he bothering you before I arrived?”

“No,” You say quickly, averting your eyes. “No, that was nothing.”

There’s a brief pause. You can feel him studying you, that pretty golden gaze boring into the side of your face. You half expect him to keep pushing, to demand a proper response from you, and you’re a little surprised when no such demand comes. Instead, his long fingers curl into your clothes, bunching it up a little bit in his hand.

“You tellin’ me the truth, sweetheart?” He murmurs. His tone makes it clear that he already knows the answer to his own question.

“Yeah,” You keep your smile hitched up on your face, though it takes a little effort. “Of course. Will we head out, then?”

Another pause, this one longer than the last. 

“Alright.” He drawls at last, pulling hand away from you as he stands. “Let’s go then.”

The tiny seed of doubt in your mind starts to bloom into full blown apprehension over the following days. 

The evening you had with Quaritch had been lovely – it still amazes you how he can be so charming one moment and then the next moment have you all tied up in knots around his cock as he pounds you stupid into your own standard-issue lumpy mattress.

In some ways, your crush was easier to handle before you started hooking up with Quaritch. At least back then you weren’t ever really concerned about rejection – you had never expected to get far enough with him that rejection might be a reality, after all! Now, you find yourself perturbed at the thought that he could lose interest at any moment; and that’s assuming he had any interest in the first place. You were the one who had been throwing yourself at him, after all.

Maybe, you think to yourself, it’s best to give him some space.

For the first time in months, you stop seeking Quaritch out. You don’t go looking for him in the gym so you can watch him work out, you don’t try to grab seats close to the Recom area in the cafeteria so you can watch him during mealtimes, you don’t go searching for him in the evening times so you can coyly invite him back to your quarters, you don’t stand waiting in the hangars when the Recom squad are returning from their scouting missions on Pandora in the hopes of catching sight of him. 

You had been aware on some level that it had mainly been you seeking him out, but now that you’ve stopped you’re disheartened to find that Geiszler had been right. Quaritch doesn’t come looking for you at all – maybe it’s true that he was only interested in you on a sexual basis. And even then, it’s only because you offer yourself to him. Does he think you’re easy? God, you probably come across as so desperate. Does he think you’re pathetic?

Either way, it’s a little disheartening. But whatever. It’s fine. You’re fine.

A week and a half after you first started to keep to yourself, Geiszler starts lingering around your workroom. At first, it’s kind of nice to have a bit of company as you work. He asks questions about your research, which you answer eagerly and with great enthusiasm, and even helps you to prepare for your thesis defence.

But by the end of that week, his presence starts to grate on your nerves a little. He babbles constantly, and no matter how hard you try to tune him out it’s like having nonstop noise playing in the background.

“Hey, how come you don’t join the rest of us back in the main lab?” He asks one afternoon. 

He’s lounging on one of the spare chairs, his feet thrown up on a disused desk. He looks very at ease, and you try not to allow your irritation to show; this is your space, and it’s difficult not to grow disgruntled at the constant invasion.

It takes a moment for you to answer.

“Because,” You murmur slowly, scratching out a quick memo in your notes. “You guys are assholes. You laugh at me all the time, and I know that you all think I’m not as smart as you.”

“Oh, come on.” Geiszler says with a short laugh, leaning his chin into his hands. “You know we don’t mean anything by it-”

“Yes, you do.” You mumble without looking up. “It’s obvious. I have to work so much harder than any of you, but it hardly ever matters. It doesn’t matter how many hours I put in, or how good my research is. I know you guys just see me as a silly little girl that doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Geiszler just blinks at you for a moment. Maybe he expects you to be angrier than you are; but you’ve already experienced years of this. More than anything, you’re just tired of it.

“Come on,” He says at last, leaning forward with an ingratiating little smile. “I don’t think that’s fair.”

“No?” You murmur absently, flipping a page. “Then why is it that you guys never ask me about my work? My research? My interests? My experiences? The only thing you guys ever talk about when I’m around is how silly I am for crushing on the Colonel. First you laughed about me because you thought I was pathetic, and now you laugh at me because you think it’s weird.”

There’s a brief pause where Geiszler visibly fumbles for a response. His brow furrows, his mouth pursing, as he attempts to gather his thoughts. You don’t look up from your work, but you can practically feel antsy shifting from beside you.

“Oh, that’s not fair.” He says finally, a little weakly. “I mean- okay, so maybe we thought it was a little funny that-” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head, and then changes tactics. “What, are you telling me Quaritch thinks you’re smart?”

That makes you pause, your own brow puckering into a frown. He says it as though it’s a difficult thing to believe, but you’ve never really thought about it. You may have made a fool of yourself in front of Quaritch on several occasions, but he’s never actually made you feel stupid about it. He’s rolled his eyes at you plenty of times, maybe laughed at you a little, but you’ve never gotten the impression that he’s actually questioning your intelligence.

“I think he does.” You murmur, still not looking up. You think of how he had grinned at you when you had shared the news that you had finished your dissertation; he didn’t seem as though he thought you were stupid then.

“It’s Quaritch.” Geiszler points out, his voice thick with disbelief. “Come on! He thinks everyone is stupid! You hardly think you’re the exception?”

You turn to him sharply, eyes narrowing. Your irritation is flaring now, and you find yourself completely unable to hide it.

“Do you seriously think this is helping your point?” You snap. “Like, really?”

Geiszler goes quietly instantly, the picture of guilt. The silence that follows is a little awkward; you turn back to your work, glaring fixedly at your research. You’ve been on Pandora for almost a full year now, and over that time you’ve grown used to the attitude of the guys in the lab. It’s not unusual, after all. You’ve been met with the same kind of derision in plenty of the male dominated work and study spaces you’ve experienced back on Earth. But even though you’ve grown used to being smirked at and talked down to, it really gets on your nerves sometimes.

After several long moments of thick, tense silence only broken by the scritching of your pen on paper and the jittery fidgeting of Geiszler’s hands against the tabletop, he speaks again.

“Sorry.” He says, quietly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I know you’re upset about him recently.”

You clench your jaw irritably. You don’t like that it’s so obvious how you feel about him, and you like it even less that Geiszler seems to be so interested in it.

“Whatever.” You mumble, turning your face away with a quiet sigh. “It doesn’t really matter, anyway.”

The next silence doesn’t last quite so long, because Geiszler ends up shuffling his chair even closer to you. Your shoulders tense, but you simply watch him out of the corner of your eye. Your friendship with him is somewhat odd; most of the time you think he’s just good company, but sometimes his boldness takes you aback.

“Look, I’m just worried about you,” He says, his voice quiet and urgent. “You keep yourself so isolated here, it can’t be healthy. When’s the last time you socialised with the rest of the xenobotanist team?” 

You hum in false thought. “Think it might have been three weeks ago? When you guys had a conversation for nearly half an hour about the physics of me and Miles fucking as if I wasn’t even there. You know, when Boyd asked if I’d write a report on human/Na’vi sexual compatibility?”

Geiszler winces in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that might’ve been a bit inappropriate.”

You just shoot him a look before returning your attention to your work. It’s not even a conversation worth having, in your eyes. But despite your obvious dismissal, Geiszler doesn’t seem ready to give up.

“You’re not interested in coming to drink with the team, then?” He asks in a wheedling tone, as though he’s talking to a pouting child.

“No.” You say. Your tone is blunt to the point of rudeness, but you’re past caring.

“Well, what about having a drink with me?”

That makes you pause, and you raise your head once more just so you can blink at him. His expression is open and guileless, unchanging even as you blink suspiciously at him. He seems earnest, and for a moment you feel a little guilty. 

Maybe Geiszler does have a point. Shutting yourself up in your makeshift lab away from everyone else certainly hasn’t done you any favours in the friendship department; if anything, it’s done even more damage to the possibility of building up genuine relationships with your co-workers. And Geiszler has been genuinely nice to you, even if he has acted like a total dick on occasion. 

“A drink?” You ask cautiously.

“Yeah,” Geiszler leans forward, clearly seeing your hesitance as an opportunity. “Why not? I can come back this evening with another bottle of moonshine – we can drink it here! We don’t even have to leave the room. It’ll just be a casual hang-out, me and you. You could use a distraction, don’t you think?”

You chew at your lip, thinking. Maybe he’s right – maybe you could use a distraction.

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” You say, trying to muster up some degree of enthusiasm.

Your attempt at levity falls completely flat. Geiszler, bless his heart, doesn’t even seem to notice.

The alcohol that’s available in Bridgehead is expensive considering it’s usually brewed secretly and against regulations, but it makes up for the price by being so strong that it could damn near blow your head right off.

After only a single drink, you start to feel a little light-headed and giggly. It’s nicer than you had expected. Your dissertation and all of your uncertainty surrounding the Quaritch situation was more stressful than you had fully realised, and the opportunity to relax like this is even nicer than you had expected.

Your legs are thrown up on one of the spare desks as you lounge back in an office chair, laughing openly at the way Geiszler is slurring his words. You may be a little tipsy, but Geiszler is well on his way to being wasted. 

It’s probably inevitable that the conversation turns back to you and Quaritch’s odd little arrangement. You can’t even be irritated about it; your mood is cushioned by the alcohol now, making you a little bit more agreeable to discussing things. Besides, complaining about it is kind of cathartic.

“I just don’t get it, man.” Geiszler is saying, his chin cradled in his hands as he stares at you with wide eyes. He’s clearly had too much of the very strong moonshine; he can hardly sit up straight. “Like… why him?”

You just sigh, tilting your head back so you can stare at the panelled ceiling way above your head. “I don’t know. Would it be very shallow to point out the fact that he’s literally beautiful?”

Geiszler snorts a little drunken laugh, before inclining his head in acknowledgement. “No, that’s fair actually.”

You laugh with him, but only for a moment. Maybe the small glass of moonshine has rotted your brain, because you end up softening as you think of Quaritch and all the illicit little encounters you’ve stolen away with him so far. 

“The Na’vi as a whole are physically attractive,” Geiszler notes, reaching up to push his glasses clumsily up the bridge of his nose. “But why are you so fixated on him? He mostly just ignores you when he’s not trying to screw you.”

You flush at that, a little humiliated. You know he’s likely just protective of you like a good friend should be, but you don’t like how that paints you as some kind of pathetic little idiot that’s just desperate for attention.

“Other than the fact that he’s biologically and physically perfect-” You soldier on even as Geiszler snorts at your words, “He’s gentle with me. I don’t necessarily think I’d call him sweet, but… I think he could be, if he wanted to.”

There’s a brief silence. Geiszler nods, lips pursed in an expression of exaggerated drunken thoughtfulness as he seems to mull this information over. After a long moment, he starts to snicker.

“I can’t lie, man, that’s not very cool. You’re clinging onto this guy because he could be sweet if he wanted to? Damn.” He drawls. “I mean, it’s Quaritch. I don’t think sweet is in his vocabulary, unless he’s making fun of you.”

It seems like the moonshine has gotten rid of the last remnants of Geiszler’s filter. You’re in a difficult position to argue, too, because he’s sort of right.

You just sigh. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

That seems to encourage him. He takes another deep gulp of his drink, wincing at the taste, before shuffling a little closer to where you’re sitting.

“I do have another question,” He says slowly, a tiny grin beginning to grow across his face. “How did it… you know… Fit?”

You nearly choke at that question, a horrified laugh bubbling out of your mouth. 

“Oh my god, don’t ask me questions like that, you little creep!” You slap at his shoulder, hard.

He yelps and pulls away, but now he’s laughing too. “Alright, alright! Can’t blame a man for being a little curious!”

Despite the topic of conversation, you find yourself feeling at ease. It’s comfortable sitting here and sharing a drink in your little lab like this; it’s the first time since you’ve arrived on Pandora that you’ve really felt like you have a friend. It’s nice.

Geiszler is still smiling, but his eyes have a somewhat serious gleam to them when he turns to you again. There’s a beat of silence, during which the easy and comfortable atmosphere seems to shift a little. The air turns a little more intense, and all of a sudden you find yourself growing somewhat uncomfortably aware of how close he’s actually sitting to you.

“Hey,” He murmurs with a soft sigh. “I know we’re joking about it, but you really do deserve better. You know that, right?”

You glance down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. You guess you do know that, on some level, but you’ve never truly had a crush this intense on anyone before — and you’ve certainly never actually had anyone on his level interested in you before, even if that interest only extends so far as taking what he wants from your body.

“Maybe.” You mumble non-committedly, setting your glass back on the table. It’s almost full still; you don’t particularly want to drink anymore.

Geiszler shuffles in his seat, before reaching out and placing his hand cautiously but firmly across your thigh.

The touch has your back stiffening, your posture going ram-rod straight in your chair as you turn to look at him in disbelief. It’s an unusually intimate touch from him, one that has connotations that are more than friendly. But then he leans in, and ends up practically hanging off your shoulder in an effort to keep his balance.

You relax, if only slightly. Is he so drunk that he hasn’t even noticed where his hand has fallen?

But then Geiszler speaks again, and any thoughts that his hand placement may have been accidental are dashed. “Listen, I’ve… I’ve liked you for a while now. And it’s been kinda tough to see you mooning over Quaritch — I could treat you so much better. I would treat you so much better.”

Your stomach sinks, dread weighing it down heavily until it feels as though it's sitting on the floor. “Oh. Geiszler, I don’t-”

But Geiszler just keeps ploughing ahead.

“The dildo thing was a joke, but I also thought that– well, that maybe you just needed to get that curiosity out of your system. And then you actually got with him, which is fine by the way! I don’t mind! But now I’m thinking that surely you’ve worked out all your curiosity about how Na’vi sex works-”

Your mouth falls open, horrified. Is that what he thought was happening? That you were just ‘working out your curiosity’? Did he really think that your feelings were so inconsequential that they could be gotten over so easily?

“-I thought that, well, since it’s so obvious that Quaritch isn’t interested in you in the same way you are him, that maybe you’d realise it was time to move on. And I know that you’re upset, but I’m right here. And I swear I’d be good to you-”

“Jesus,” You blurt, rearing back.

To your horror, Geiszler just shuffles closer yet again. Maybe the alcohol has given him delusional levels of self-confidence, because he doesn’t even seem to notice how you’re attempting to pull away from him.

“The guys in the lab still laugh over how moony-eyed you get over him, you know,” He says, as though to compound your embarrassment. “Especially considering all he really does is ignore you. I would never do that. I’d never leave lonely like that. I’d– I’d sleep with you every night — And I don't just mean sex! Sex would be great too, obviously, amazing even, but I want you in my bed every night, just sleeping. I want to be able to curl up behind you and hold you close, and I could keep you warm under all the blankets-"

“Fucking hell, Geiszler-” You blurt, attempting to slap his hand away from your thigh. It stays firmly planted, and he just keeps leaning in as he babbles away.

It’s like he’s taken the few minor complaints you had made about your little thing with Quaritch (details that you had only shared because you thought you had been gossiping with a friend!) and used it to fuel his confidence in coming onto you. You can’t even escape because he’s right in front of you; he’s not a particularly large man, but he’s drunk and heavy and leaning on you in such a way that you’re struggling to get out from beneath his weight.

“Stop,” You order firmly, trying to push at his shoulder as gently as you can manage. It seems to have no effect; he just keeps ploughing ahead as though you hadn’t spoken at all.

“I know that it’s not going to be the same as when you’re with Quaritch, obviously,” He says, speaking even quicker now as if he knows you’re going to try and interrupt, “There are some pretty obvious physical differences, but I would make you feel good — I know I would-”

“Geiszler,” You attempt a reasoning sort of tone, but you’re too impatient for it to sound convincing. “Seriously. I– I consider you a friend, but I don’t see you like–”

He doesn’t even let you finish. His face contorts in a frown, cheeks all flushed from the alcohol. Honestly, he looks a little pathetic like this.

“But I’d treat you better than he does.” He says, leaning forward insistently as though he just can’t understand what the problem is. “I actually like you. If it’s– if it’s sexual compatibility you’re worried about-”

“It’s not!”

“I don’t think it’d be a problem! I'd take you gentle and slow and give you everything you deserve. Or I could pull your hair and take you hard if that's what you wanted, either! I’ll do anything you want, honestly.”

You recoil at that, your face scrunching up in distaste. The thought alone makes your body tense; you can’t think of anything less arousing.

Your attention is momentarily pulled away from Geiszler’s pitiful grovelling by a quiet scuffling sound by the door. You glance over, distracted, before doing a goddamn double take. You think for a moment you’re hallucinating, shock and dread pooling in your stomach at the sight of a familiar tall blue figure standing in the doorway.

The sight of Quaritch leaning lazily against the doorframe with his arms crossed nearly makes you scream. You have no idea how long he’s been standing there, but his expression is decidedly unimpressed. 

“Oh.” You blurt, staring at him wide-eyed.

Quaritch doesn’t even say anything. One of his eyebrows just creeps higher, before his eyes wander down over your body and land on Geiszler’s hand clasped around your thigh. His glare hardens, his mouth firming into a thin line.

Embarrassment floods you with prickly heat, and you take a deep, somewhat panicked breath. He has no reason to be angry with you, you tell yourself frantically. This is the first time he’s bothered to come looking for you in weeks!

Besides, you’re not actually doing anything wrong! Quartich had told you clearly that he wasn’t looking for anything serious and had never made any kind of attempt at discussing just what the hell you two were doing together, so it’s not as though he can be surprised that you’ve maybe decided to spend time with someone else. It’s unfortunate that he’s arrived to hear Geiszler’s gross drunken confession, but what can you do?

Geiszler, distressingly, doesn’t even seem to notice that you’re looking over his shoulder with a distinctly horrified expression.

“I just want you to feel good. You can sit on my face – I don’t even care if I can’t breathe-” He rambles his fingers squeezing hopefully around your thigh even as you try to pry his hand off.

Your expression drops, your eyes squeezing shut. The humiliation swells, thick and choking. You feel utterly pinned down and trapped by the combination of Quaritch’s big yellow eyes and the feeling of Geiszler’s sweaty palm clutching at your bare thigh. 

Before you can shut Geiszler down or even point out that you’re not alone anymore, Quaritch pushes himself off the doorframe and steps into the room properly.

“Nice offer,” He drawls, his eyes sharp and bright as he watches Geiszler like a cat stalking a mouse. “But she won’t be needing that.”

The sound of Quaritch’s voice is more effective in getting Geiszler’s hands off you than any of your own protests or pushing, because he whips his hands back and whirls. His movements are sloppy from the alcohol and he nearly overbalances off his chair when he spins around to get a look at who has just walked in.

The blood visibly drains out of Geiszler’s face as he tilts his head back to stare up at the towering form of Quaritch as he steps closer. You can’t blame him; Quaritch looks scary right now, all clench-jawed and sharp-eyed as he stalks forward with curiously animal grace.

And yet, Geiszler seems gripped by what is either drunken bravery or sheer stupidity, because he squares his shoulders and sets his jaw as he stares up at Quaritch.

“Why are you here?” He demands belligerently. “Leave her alone!”

Quaritch tilts his head, before his mouth widens into a mean smile. “I’m not the one sexually harassing her, puke. Why don’t you beat it now, hm?”

You groan quietly, burying your face in your hands. How could things have developed like this? You find yourself burning with humiliation, wishing that the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

Geiszler doesn’t seem to be getting the message at all. He grabs at your waist possessively, heedless of the way you jolt and hiss at him, or the way you try slapping his hands away.

“She doesn’t even want you!” Geiszler declares stupidly, slurring a little.

That declaration doesn’t garner the reaction that Geiszler had been expecting. Quaritch’s expression turns unmistakably amused, his lips tilting up into a smug kind of smirk. He doesn’t even bother arguing back; instead, he reaches forward and takes a hold of the back of Geiszler’s shirt with a single, enormous hand.

It’s almost comical how easily Quaritch is able to lift Geiszler, using his grip on the back of his shirt to haul him into the air like a bold puppy even as he kicks and flails. It doesn’t even seem to take any effort on his part; Quaritch looks bored as he turns and marches Geiszler to the door, before tossing him through the entryway without fanfare.

The door slides shut, and then suddenly you and Quaritch are alone together. His big hand slaps at the button to lock the door, and the hydraulics hiss as the locking mechanisms engage.

Panic seizes you. Fuck. This is what you’ve been hoping to avoid! 

When Quaritch turns back to face you, you blurt out, “What the fuck was that?”

Quaritch pauses. It’s clear that this isn’t the reaction he had been expecting of you, because he sends you a look of pure disbelief, raising his eyebrows so high that his brow wrinkles from the effort of it.

“You better be joking, darlin’.” He says, an edge of warning in his voice as he steps back over to you.

That little hint of danger in his tone is enough to send a shiver down your spine, but you keep your shoulders back and your chin jutted out stubbornly.

“I was handling it.” You say simply, folding your arms across your chest and scowling at him. “He was just drunk and stupid, he didn’t-”

Quaritch snorts, then swiftly closes the distance between you. You hardly even get a chance to react before he’s right in front of you, crouching down so he can talk to you at eye level.

“Don’t tell me he didn’t mean it,” He says, his voice low and full of warning. “I'm surprised he didn't come in his pants the second he touched you. The only thing he's wanted for months now is to get in between your legs.”

He sounds… jealous? It’s almost hard to believe. Only a short time ago, you would have been delighted at the thought. But now, you feel your impatience bubbling up, close to overflowing. He has no right to jealousy!

“What happens between my legs is none of your business,” You snap, your arms tightening defensively over your chest. “I can’t see why the fuck it would matter to you whether he touches me or not.”

Quaritch’s eyes flare wide for a moment, his lips pressed together tight as he watches you intently.

“Don’t take that fucking tone with me,” He warns quietly, his voice low and even and sort of terrifying. “You telling me you let all those cockless little losers touch up on you like that? You telling me that's not my business?”

You almost choke, shocked by the sheer audacity of the man. Though his eyes are still flashing from the warning over your tone, he’s obviously amused by you, as though he thinks this whole conversation is just a little joke.

You narrow your eyes and tilt your chin up boldly as you scowl up at him. “Yes. I could let the whole fucking science department in between my legs, and it still wouldn't be any of your business."

Infuriatingly, that just makes Quaritch laugh. He shuffles closer to you, leaning his head down so close to you that you’re practically breathing each other’s air. One of his hands reaches out and clasps you by your hip, so big and hot as it pins you in place.

“You’re mouthy today,” He murmurs, fangs gleaming as he grins. “Does arguing like this get you wet, kid? You need to work off some steam?” 

Your face floods with heat as embarrassment burns through you. It's crass, but there's no denying that somewhere deep down you sort of do enjoy arguing with him. He never seems to have much patience for folly usually, and yet he meets your slightly bratty behaviour with amusement and a condescending grin. 

Quaritch is watching your expression carefully, and that smug grin only grows at whatever he sees there.

“Oh, you do like it.” He crows softly. “You want me angry, honey? You want to be put in your place?”

His hand drifts lower, coasting over the swell of your ass, and your breath catches in your throat — you nearly choke on it. Under your burning indignation, you feel heat coiling between your legs and you hate it.

“No,” You wheeze out, squirming as he leans in. You’ve ended up trapped between him and the desk behind you, pressed right up against it as he looms closer. “No. I’m angry at you.”

That makes him pause, the progress of his hand sliding down your ass halting. He leans back so that he can look at you properly, and squints at you. His expression is reminiscent of an old man peering at a piece of technology that he can’t work, and that thought has you forcibly biting down a hysterical giggle. The reminder that he’s so much older than you, even in this body, always sends an exciting sort of thrill running through you.

“You’re angry with me.” Quaritch repeats slowly, as though tasting how the words sound in his mouth. He doesn’t appear impressed. “And is this the same reason that you’ve suddenly been avoiding me?”

Ah. So he had noticed your absence. 

You keep your jaw set stubbornly, refusing to be cowed by his big intense eyes and overwhelming presence as he looms over you.

“Maybe.” You say shortly. “I don’t see why it matters.”

Quaritch damn near does a double take at that. He leans back, his brows drawing into a frustrated frown as he peers down at you. His reaction would be comical if you weren’t so busy trying to maintain your own composure.

“The hell..?” He mutters, before leaning back in with a scowl. “What the hell’s the matter with you, huh? For the past few months you’ve been everywhere, watching me every time I turned around, and then all of a sudden you just disappear the last few days and start acting all pissy. What the fuck happened, huh?”

You keep your arms crossed defensively over your chest as you glare at him, growing angry and defensive. He’s still got his hand spread across your ass, which makes it difficult to effectively scowl at him, but you manage all the same.

“You don’t have to act like you care. I get that I’ve been annoying and desperate and pathetic chasing after you, and I get that you’ve been fucking me out of- I don’t know, convenience or pity or whatever-”

“What–”

You plough on before Quaritch can interrupt you. “-But that doesn’t mean that it’s okay to treat me like shit, or to laugh at me–”

“When the fuck have I laughed at you?” Quaritch is clearly struggling to stay calm, but he’s never been a patient person and irritation is creeping very obviously into his demeanour. His shoulders are tense and his mouth is tight, his hand clenching in the back of your dress and scrunching it up against your ass.

“You think I’m stupid!” You burst out, that one stupid conversation with Geiszler still sitting at the forefront of your mind.

Quaritch just stares at you with the blankest expression you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t even look annoyed anymore, he just looks fed up.

“No,” He rumbles, using his grip on your ass to pull you closer to where he’s crouching on his haunches. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I do think you’re acting like a goddamn brat right now though, and I’m still waiting for an explanation.”

You swallow, some of the fight draining out of you. He’s not reacting like you had expected him to; you had thought he would scoff at you, or maybe even get angry at you for your unreasonable behaviour. But instead, you’ve got him looking at you with mildly irritated confusion, and he’s actually trying to get you to explain your feelings to him. It’s not how you thought this would go, and now you’re feeling a little wrong-footed.

You glance to the side, unable to meet his gaze. 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks,” You mumble trying not to sound petulant. “It was always me who came looking for you, and everyone has been laughing at me for ages now about how pathetic I am for mooning after you like I have been. I mean– fuck! Even now, the only times you’ve ever come to see me is after I’ve ignored you! It’s like you only want me when you think I won’t have you–”

Quaritch makes a soft scoffing noise in the back of his throat before reaching out and grabbing you by the wrist in an effort to stop you talking. It doesn’t work; you just get upset, and reach up to smack him on the chest. He doesn’t even blink as the blow glances off his chest, as though your fists are of no more consequence than a mildly irritating fly.

“Stop that.” He orders, sharp as ever. “Jesus, kid. Where’s all this coming from, huh? I leave for two weeks and you have a breakdown?”

That makes you pause, chest still heaving, just so you can stare blankly at him. The arms that you had crossed so defensively over your chest loosen just a little.

“You left?” You repeat, frowning.

That makes Quaritch snort, his eyes rolling. “All this cryin’ and you didn’t even notice? What’re you so upset over, then?”

“I-” You fumble, blinking wildly. You had been upset because you had been thinking that your relationship with Quaritch was entirely one-sided, all because Geiszler had suggested that he was using you for just sex. “I just– Geiszler said that–”

Quaritch’s expression darkens, his eyes narrowing. He doesn’t even let you finish, leaning in so that his face is pressed right up close to yours. For a moment, he says nothing; just watches you as you stutter and slowly trail off into silence.

You swallow, then try again. “He said that everyone was laughing at me. Because I like you a lot, and you’ve been ignoring me the best you can. So I stopped going looking for you or asking about you, for weeks, to see if you’d come to me and you didn’t–”

“Because I wasn’t here, kid.” Quaritch snaps, before taking a deep breath. It seems like him snapping at you was accidental, because he then makes a concentrated effort to keep his tone level. “The team was sent out on recon two weeks ago into the lowlands. You’ve been getting all twisted up in knots over nothing.”

Your mouth drops open, and you’re left gaping up at him like a total moron. Hot, thick embarrassment is beginning to curl in your stomach; Geiszler had never thought to mention that Quaritch wasn’t even in Bridgehead when you were all upset about him ignoring you, and that bastard definitely knew considering how close he was with the xeno guys that worked with the recoms. Fuck, you’ve just made a total fool of yourself.

“Oh.” You whisper, blinking at him as you stare back into his unwavering amber eyes. “I– I didn’t know.”

But Quaritch isn’t about to accept that as an answer so easily. His lips curl into a dangerous sort of grin, his eyelids sliding half-closed as he watches you, his face still so close to yours that your gaze keeps darting nervously down towards his mouth. He still hasn’t moved the hand on your ass, and you let out a startled little exhale when he flexes his grip to get a better handle on you.

“I only got back two days ago. I did come looking for you, but some of the guys out in the main lab said you weren’t in.” He says, speaking slowly and purposefully as though he thinks you’re not listening. “So I came today instead. Now, are you finished acting like a fucking lunatic?”

He had come looking for you? No one had ever mentioned that, you think wildly. And the guys in the main lab told him you weren’t in? That didn’t even make any sense – you were always in. You think back to Geiszler, and of his gentle insistence that Quaritch was uninterested, and feel your stomach sink slowly. You had thought he was your friend; your brain rebels at the idea that he was possibly planting doubts in your head just so he could worm his way closer and confess like that to you.

“So,” You say, frowning as your lower lip wobbles a little. “Geiszler was lying to me?”

Quaritch just tilts his head back and sighs through his nose, as though praying for patience. He’s usually such a foul-mouthed hard-ass that seeing him actually make an attempt to regulate himself when you’re upset is a little heart-warming, though you still feel stupid for allowing yourself to be pulled in by him.

“Why would you trust the little creep that’s been sending you sex toys and asking you questions about your sex life, huh?” He asks, his voice a little strained as though he’s forcing patience.

You just purse your lips, still frowning. “I thought we were friends.”

Quaritch just takes a breath and decides not to respond to that. Instead, the hand that’s not still holding you by the ass reaching back around to his back pocket, and he grapples with something there for a moment.

“Here, I got something for you. So no more sulking, got it?”

He doesn’t even give you any time to make any promises before he pulls something out from behind his back. It takes a moment to recognise it as a sample container, and it takes an even longer moment to recognise the pale pink tissue that’s curled up on the inside.

When recognition finally clicks, you let out a squealing gasp before you reach up to grab it.

“Holy shit! Holy shit, you got a biological specimen of the panopyra?”

Quaritch just grunts, but his tail curls in the air behind him. He’s clearly smug about his little gift to you, though his expression is still curiously hard to read. He stays quiet for a few moments as you study the sample in the plastic container, eagerly oohing and ahhhing in regular intervals.

You let out a soft, excited squeal again, beyond excited. You may have finished your dissertation, but you’re already eagerly planning your next research project and this sample will be perfect for that. You raise your head to look at him, directing your bright, sunny grin in his direction.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you-”

Quaritch just snorts, though his ears twitch in obvious satisfaction. “Yeah, yeah. You’re an easy little thing to please, ain’tcha?”

You don’t take offence to that; this is the second time that Quaritch has delivered panopyra samples to you in order to calm you down, and it’s been embarrassingly effective each time.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on a sample like this for months-!” You gush, clutching it tight to your chest as you bounce on your toes.

Quaritch just hums. He seems content enough to watch you giggle over the sample, but when you move to walk towards the sample fridge his hand tightens around your ass and keeps you still and pinned by his body.

“Where’re you going?”

“I need to put this in the fridge-”

“Nuh uh,” He murmurs, reaching out to take the container off of you and setting it firmly to the side on the desktop. “You ain’t going near that damn fridge. You telling me you’ve forgotten that little reward you promised me?”

That makes your breath catch in your throat, surprised anticipation bubbling in your belly. You had forgotten that particular promise, but now you find an excited smile growing on your face. And yet, even now, you feel a little hesitant.

“No,” You murmur, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I remember.”

His enormous blue hands coast up along your sides, ruffling the skirt of your dress and dragging it up slightly to expose more of your thighs. You let him, even leaning eagerly into his touch.

“You’ve been feeling neglected, huh?” He asks, his voice dropping into a low rumble that vibrates right into your chest. “That’s why you’re all pissy, right? You’ve been wanting more attention?”

“Yes,” You whisper stupidly, pressing into his hands as his palms glide along your lower back to rest on your ass again. “Yes.”

That makes him laugh, all deep and a little condescending as he leans in towards you. He takes a slow, deep inhale, his big flat nose pressed near your neck as he lets out a soft little groan of satisfaction.

“Fuck,” He rumbles. “I can smell you, kid. Arguing really does get you wet, doesn’t it?”

You flush with embarrassed heat, closing your eyes so that you don’t have to see him looking at you like that. It wasn’t the arguing that had affected you as much as the closeness and the overwhelming presence of Miles as he leaned in over you, impossibly big as he dealt with you with all the patience he could muster even when you were admittedly being a bit of a brat.

When you don’t answer, he sticks a hand under your dress and drags his fingers experimentally along the damp cotton of your underwear. You let out a sharp noise of surprise, but you can’t stop yourself from pressing down into his hand all the same.

“Oh yeah,” He grunts, sounding ridiculously pleased. “Needy little thing. I bet that pathetic little science bitch could just smell it off you – no wonder he was sniffin’ around you like that.”

“Miles,” You breathe, reaching out to hold onto his shoulders as he pulls you closer so that he can dip his fingers into your panties. “Please-”

He chuckles, and tucks his head into your neck before delivering a stinging little warning bite to your shoulder that has your knees weakening. “I know what I want for my reward.”

“Yeah?” You ask, starting to grin.

Your stomach twitches in anticipation, and you cling to him all the harder. You can only imagine what he’s going to ask for; your mind conjures images of you on your knees, the hot thickness of his cock heavy on your tongue as he moans over your head. You press your thighs together eagerly as you watch him, waiting for him to make another move.

But Quaritch doesn’t answer immediately. He just pulls back a little, ignoring your soft noise of complaint, before nosing his way down your torso. He stops when he gets to your navel and takes a deep breath, huffing quietly as he smells you. You can’t even be self-conscious about it, because judging by the pleased grunt he lets out he likes what he’s smelling.

“Drivin’ me crazy here,” He mumbles into your belly, hiking your dress up higher around your waist. “I’ve been thinking about this all week.”

You take a breath, your hands clenching around the thin fabric of his wifebeater. The knowledge that he’s been thinking of you is heady, especially since you had pretty much convinced yourself that he didn’t want you anywhere near him.

“Miles,” You whisper, reaching for his belt. “Do you want me to-”

But to your surprise, he pushes your hand away.

“Nah, honey,” He murmurs, his head dipping lower until that flat nose is pressed right up against the seat of your cotton panties. “Let me do my thing.”

You don’t think you could ever muster up the self-discipline to refuse him that, so all you can do is nod dumbly as he nuzzles his face into your clothed pussy. 

He inhales deeply into the crease of your thigh, before letting out a quiet little grunt. “You smell like strawberries. What is that?”

“My- my body lotion.” You wheeze, shivering against his face as you tilt your hips eagerly towards him.

“Yeah? Fuck, that’s good.” He breathes you in, before licking you through the fabric of your panties.

You jolt a little, and then one of Quaritch’s big hands closes around your thigh and pulls your leg up and over his shoulder. You abandon your hold on his shoulders in favour of grabbing at his head, your fingers scrabbling uselessly over his short hair.

The position opens you up to his hungry mouth, but it also leaves you a little unsteady on your feet; you’re only standing on one leg, the other thrown over his shoulder as he knees between your thighs, all hunched over so that he can fit his head between your legs. You’re still pressed up against the desk, which is probably the only reason you haven’t overbalanced and fallen on your ass.

“Miles-” You start to protest, muscles in your thighs already burning, but he cuts you off with a swift, stinging slap to your ass. There’s hardly any strength behind it, but it’s enough to warn you off complaining. 

The message is clear; this is his reward, and you’re to let him take it. Truthfully, you’re only happy to, and you press your hips towards his face eagerly as he licks insistently at your clit through the damp cloth barrier of your panties.

“You taste so good, kid.” He grunts against your cunt, pulling you against his face so that his words come out muffled and distorted.

“Pervert.” You say, your voice low and ragged as if you hadn’t been the one humping your cunt up against his face.

Quaritch just laughs, his grip on your thighs tightening. God, he’s so patient with you. It just makes you wetter.

When he pulls away, you almost whine. He looks amused at your reaction, though you don’t think he has much room to laugh at you; his own pupils are blown wide, the gold around his iris only a thin line around the edge as his ears twitch eagerly.

“Come on,” He grunts, his strong fingers squeezing at your ass as he hauls you forward so that you’re all pressed up against his body. “Come here to me, darlin’-”

You yelp a little, surprised when he uses his leverage on you to hold you tight as he rolls back on his heels. In a movement that’s almost too quick for you to follow, Quaritch leans back so that he’s laying on the ground all spread out beneath you. You end up straddling his chest, your knees all splayed out on either side of his waist with your dress all rucked up around your hips.

“Ain’t that a pretty sight,” Quaritch coos, reaching out to run his hands all over your thighs, pushing your dress up even higher. “Fuck, mama, just look at you. Take this off, c’mon.”

You don’t even hesitate. His gaze is searing, and you feel hot and overwhelmed under his attention – you just want to please him, to make him happy, and so you reach for your dress and pull it off eagerly.

When you’re left sitting on his chest in nothing but your underwear, Quaritch lets out a soft huff of appreciation. His eyes dart rapidly over your body, before reaching up and wrapping his thick fingers into the fabric of your panties. He tears them like paper, ripping them right off you with ease before doing the same to your bra, ignoring your shout of indignation.

“Oh, you bastard, why would you do that? I don’t have unlimited underwear on this fucking planet-!” You start to complain, but Quaritch obviously isn’t listening to a damn word you’re saying.

“Still so fucking mouthy,” He rumbles though he doesn’t really sound annoyed about it. If anything, he sounds amused.

When his hands grab at your hips, his long fingers squeezing at the plush softness of your thighs as he pulls you up further on his chest, you start to grin. This position feels familiar, and when you glance over your shoulder you can see the prominent bulge in his camo trousers.

You think of the reward he’s requested, and butterflies erupt in your tummy at the thought – you had initially guessed that he might want a blowjob, but now you’re guessing he wants something else based on this position you’re in.

“Want me to ride you?” You ask, biting at your lip as you grin at him coyly. The idea is exciting, and you try not to look too eager for it.

Quaritch just grins back at you, his sharp teeth on full display as his nose crinkles a little. He manages to make what should be an innocuous expression look intimidatingly cheeky, and he watches you with great interest as you grind lightly against his muscled chest.

“Yeah,” He says, his grin turning wicked. “Something like that.”

But then his hands land firmly on your ass and push you up his chest, away from his dick. You go with great confusion, your expression all scrunched up as he pushes you toward his face.

“Sit on my face, honey. Come on.”

You nearly jolt, staring at him in disbelief. “I– wait, what? I can’t do that-”

Quaritch makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat, and doesn’t stop his tugging at you. He’s strong too, so he’s able to pull you right up to his head with minimal effort.

“I had to listen to your creepy little friend talk about every wet dream he’s about you,” He points out, his lip curling as he stares up at you. “And now you’re refusing me this? Come on, mama, let me get my mouth on you.”

His hands are strong and persistent, and you end up with your knees splayed out around Quaritch’s head, hovering nervously above his face. It’s an embarrassingly exposed position to be in, and you take a shaky breath as you stare down at him between your legs. When his tongue pokes out to lick at his lips, you feel your stomach tighten in eager anticipation.

“I-” You flounder, mortified. “I’ll crush you.”

That makes him laugh, teeth flashing.

“You can try, kid.” He says, his smile so sharp that it nearly takes your breath away. “You can try.”

Maybe it’s the fact that he appears genuinely eager about getting his mouth on your pussy, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s still so obviously irritated by what he had overheard when Geiszler was running his mouth earlier, but you find yourself willing to give it a chance. You’ve never tried anything like this before, but Quaritch clearly feels as though he has something to prove – who are you to deny him the chance to show off that he’s so obviously craving?

The next time his hands come to rest over your hips, you allow him to slowly lower you down until his mouth is laid over your cunt. When he opens wide, the hot wet roughness of his tongue sliding over the swollen heat of your clit, you grab at the short bristly hair at the top of his head and jerk your hips away from him.

“Oh!” You blurt, startled at the sensation. It’s so much more intense than you had been expecting – Quaritch has eaten your pussy before, many times, but it’s different being on the receiving end of it when your whole weight is leaning down on him like this.

Quaritch laughs again, low enough that it rumbles up your spine and between your legs. He tilts his head, obviously testing your grip on his hair, and grins wickedly up at you.

“Got a good grip, mama?” He asks in a tone that suggests you’ll need it.

“I– oh!” You wheeze a shocked breath when he pulls your hips back down, so firmly that you can’t even think of lifting away from him as he opens his mouth wide to welcome your cunt.

Even sitting on top of his face with a hand clenched in his hair, you don’t have much control over this. You gasp, trailing off into a moan as Quaritch’s tongue works its way inside you. He's meaner with it now, never staying where you want him, riling you up and then pulling away, placing warning bites on your thighs or your clit when you complain or whine too much.

Embarrassingly, you do need that grip on his hair. Your fingers clench tight in the short but soft bristles of his hair, rolling your hips up, trying to get Quaritch where you want him. His big hands curl around your thighs and keep you pinned to his face, relentless with his tongue.

You direct his mouth to the best of your ability, with words and the occasional tug on his hair, moans falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at your pussy. Quaritch mostly ignores your tugging, pulling at your hips in turn to keep you where he wants you; mindless, you go where you’re told, move where you’re pushed, each small groan and whimper that falls from your lips just spurring him on more.

It feels so much better than you had expected. Your previous hesitancy has completely vanished, and you find yourself grinding your pussy down against his mouth hard as you chase his tongue. He’s so big, so strong, you’re not worried about hurting him like you would be if he was human. The thought of you being enough to crush him is almost laughable.

The rough texture of his tongue rasps over your clit and you shiver hard, a soft cry ripped from your throat. You feel animal, mindless, and you clutch at his hair tight as you hold his head still, your hips bucking wildly against him as you grind your clit into his tongue. 

The pleasure of it nearly steals your breath away, air catching in your chest as you rut your hips into his mouth messily, clumsily. It must be difficult for him to breathe, and yet he doesn’t complain. He doesn’t even make any attempt to slow you down, or to tell you to go easy; he just groans into you, his grip on your hips tightening as his hips hump the air behind you.

You wonder if he was this fucking eager when he was human, or if it’s his new Na’vi senses that makes him so fucking horny for this. His sense of smell is superior now, as is his sense of taste, and his sensitive ears means that he is hyper-aware of every twitch, every moan, every minor reaction. It seems like he’s determined to use his new senses to absolutely devour you.

You’re humping your cunt into his wide, eager mouth hard enough that you probably would have caused a pretty serious neck injury if he were human, but he’s just grunting eagerly into you, his little noises vibrating right up into your clit as his hands on your ass encourage you to ride his face harder. Who are you to deny him what he wants? You fuck your pussy into his mouth just as he wants you to, unrestrained in a way you could never be with a human partner.

That tight coil of pleasured heat trembles deep in your belly, your breaths coming hard and fast as you wheeze. Your orgasm is creeping up on you shamefully quickly; you’re shocked by the sheer speed of it.

“Oh god,” you moan stupidly. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait!”

With an embarrassing squelching sort of noise, Quaritch’s mouth finally detaches from your pussy. He pulls back, already frowning. 

“What?”

His voice is gravelly enough to have you shivering with the sound of it alone, and you gasp, lungs burning as your chest heaves for air.

“I’m gonna come,” You squeal, your hips still twitching. The air in the lab is cold against your sweat-slick skin, and you’re already desperate to feel his mouth on you again. “Fuck! I was- I was gonna come.”

Quaritch just grunts, clearly displeased that you had interrupted his efforts just to make an announcement like that. “Then come.”

He moves to lean back in, but a swift jab to his head has him pausing with a scowl. He’s breathing hard, his eyes a little hazy and unfocused, his mouth slick and shining. There’s a glimmer of sweat along his brow and his chest, his little bioluminescent dots glowing brightly. He’s so pretty – you want to sit on his face again just so you can stop looking at it, overwhelmed by how handsome he is.

“Are you-” You shiver, trying to lean away from the heat of his breath as it ghosts over your slick skin. “Are you gonna fuck me?”

“Maybe later,” He grunts, taking the opportunity to clumsily lift up his CO2 respirator to take a sip of air. “C’mon, sit back down.”

“I wanna come with you inside me,” You say. You’re trying not to sound whiny, but you’re pretty sure you miss the mark. 

“Greedy,” Quaritch grunts. He bites at your thigh, a little harshly. “This ain’t for you. This is my reward, remember?”

The whimper you let out is a little embarrassing, but you nod all the same, unable to resist him. He seems satisfied with that all the same, and lays his head back down against the floor. He shifts a little as though getting comfortable, before gesturing at you with his chin.

“C’mon, princess, let’s go. Keep grinding on me like that – I liked it.”

“Okay,” You breathe, allowing your hips to be guided back down onto his open mouth. 

His tongue moves eagerly and with purpose, tracing a slick path up and around your clit and making you writhe against his mouth as his hands keep you pinned to his face. His tongue keeps working you until you’re beyond slick, dripping and trembling all over his mouth and chin. The palm of his hand is laid flat against your ass, and he uses it to push at you gently, trying to coax you into moving against him like before.

Your thighs are shaking a little, but you still push yourself to move. Your fingers clench and unclench in his hair, knuckles burning from the force of your grip, before you start to move your hips insistently against his mouth again.

“Oh, god.” You sigh, closing your eyes against the force of the heat coiling in your belly. “Oh fuck, Miles, please keep doing that-”

He sucks at your clit hard, thrusts his large tongue inside of you. Licks at you hard and flat before suckling at you with vigour as you grind and rock like a mad thing against his face. You feel like you’re losing your mind, as though his tongue is actually fucking you stupid.

You can’t help it; when his tongue is laid flat against your whole cunt, dripping drool between your legs, you start grinding against his mouth desperately. It feels unbelievably good, and you let out pathetic little mewling moans as you hump your pussy against his face. He holds out his tongue for you to use, and you use it eagerly.

When you finally come, you nearly cry with the relief of it. Pleasure fizzes up your spine, emanating from where you’re rubbing your clit frantically against the mind-blowing texture of Quaritch’s tongue, and you throw your head back as your hips spasm. Your mouth opens wide as you gasp for breath, but you can’t even find the air to make a sound as you shake apart on Quaritch’s tongue.

But it’s only a short-term relief, because Quaritch doesn’t let up. His tongue just keeps going, and soon you’re crying out and trying to squirm desperately away, but you're unable to go far as his hands are like iron bars around your thighs keeping you in place. It's like he’s using his goddamn mouth as a weapon, and you’re soon over-sensitive and teary-eyed.

“Miles,” You gasp, wheezing as a few overwhelmed tears spill over onto your cheeks. “Miles, it’s too much, too much-”

“You can take it.” He grunts, and you can feel him grinning into your pussy.

You shudder, clutching his hair tight as you jerk your hips against his mouth. “Fuck,” You wail, long and drawn out, “I can’t, I can’t-”

He laughs, so mean, the sound rumbling into your cunt and making you whine. He doesn’t let up for a second, and soon you go from twitching away from his mouth to pressing eagerly back down against his tongue. His ears twitch where they’re pressed up tight against your thighs, no doubt eagerly taking in all the pitiful little gasps and whines spilling from your lips.

“Miles, Miles, oh, fuck, Miles-” You babble senselessly, your eyes squeezing shut tight as you rock mindlessly against his face. 

“Whiny bitch,” He says, turning his head to bite at the soft pudge of your thigh. He sounds fond. “All that cryin’ about not being able to take it, but look at you go.”

And with that, he buries his face firmly back into your cunt.

A second orgasm is creeping up on you so quickly that you can hardly believe it, your whole body slick from sweat and trembling from the sheer strain rocking your body. Quaritch’s tongue is absolutely relentless, his mouth sealing over your clit as his hand coasts over your ass. 

Two of his big fingers prod at your entrance before sliding inside of you, the stretch made easy from how slick and wet you are. You cry out hoarsely, head tilting back toward the ceiling; one of his fingers alone is enough to have your head spinning as it nudges insistently at the soft spongey spot deep inside you that makes your legs tremble, but two feel so satisfying.

You cry out again as you writhe on his face, humping into his mouth and grinding back on his fingers, but no matter where you squirm you can't get away from Quaritch’s vicious mouth and probing fingers – you don’t even know if you want to. 

There's no relief; your first orgasm has barely abated before you can feel another one building, as Quaritch forcibly and relentlessly pushes you back to the edge. 

It's so much. It’s too much. You’re sobbing and begging, although for what you’re not sure, since you’re asking Quaritch for more just as often as you’re asking him to stop. He’s added another finger by now, sucking hard on your clit as he fingers you until your eyes are rolling.

You don’t even know half of the shit that’s coming out of your mouth right now; it’s a frantic mix of Miles and please and oh god more and oh my god I'm gonna-!, and then an embarrassing amount of incoherent sobbing. Something big is building inside of you, and you writhe above Quaritch as it builds up bigger and bigger until you’re sure you’re going to explode.

And then you do.

Your orgasm hits you like a goddamn train, crashing over you as your back arches and your muscles tense so tight that you nearly pull something.

Quaritch finally pulls his mouth back, but his fingers don’t stop; you come so hard that it practically bursts out of you, squirting all over his fingers and his chest.

“Holy fuck,” Quaritch says, surprised for a moment before he melts into a laugh. “Oh, fuck, look at you go, kid, Jesus Christ–”

You’re still shaking through the aftershocks of it, and it sounds as though his voice is coming from a very long way away. Even through the haze, when you look down between your legs you’re able to recognise the hungry, awestruck look on his face.

“Oh, god,” You choke out hoarsely, your words coming out on a wheeze. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t– I’ve never–”

Quaritch doesn’t even let you finish. He just grabs at your ass and sits up, holding you as if you weigh nothing before practically tossing you onto your back on the cold linoleum floor of the lab. Within the same second he’s crawling over you, big and imposing as his broad shoulders and muscular chest loom over you.

“The fuck are you apologising for?” He grunts, knocking your thighs aside so he can settle the bulk of his body into the cradle between your legs. “Jesus– c’mere, can you take me?”

You blink hazily, glancing down to see that he’s shoving his pants harshly down his legs and letting them pool around his knees. His cock is as impressive as ever, big and flushed pretty purple as it strains against his lower stomach.

You clench around nothing, feeling so miserably empty now that his fingers are no longer filling you up. You’ve gotten so used to taking the girth of him that now you find yourself craving that beautiful sensation of fullness he always gives you.

“Yes,” You gasp, spreading your thighs wider. “Yes, I can take you.”

That’s all he needs to hear. He pushes his cock inside of your soaking cunt with minimal difficulty despite the ridiculous size of him, though your eyes roll back in your head as you feel the burning pain of him stretching you before he slides deep enough inside that you just feel full.

“Atta girl,” He snarls, pushing his face into your throat and grunting as he grabs at one of your legs so he can pull your thigh up over his hip. “Fuck, you’ve gotten so good at this.”

It’s true – you have gotten good at this. Your body opens up around the thickness of his cock with relative ease now after the initial pain of his entry and all you can do is sigh dreamily at the sensation of being stuffed so full, tightening eagerly around him as he goes to pull out so he can push in again.

When Quaritch starts moving, he uses you like a goddamn sex toy, and you play the part so well. You’re still so fucked out and loose from the two intense orgasms he'd given you, your head still spinning as you gasp your heaving breaths every time he fucks into you. It feels like his cock is in your goddamn lungs, driving the breath out of you every time he humps into you.

His grip on your hips is bruising, every thrust sending your head lolling limply on your shoulders. You’ve already been immensely satisfied by your own orgasms; this is all about Quaritch. He lifts your hips to a better angle, your upper body all splayed out on the floor as he ruts into you sloppily.

“Shit, mama,” He groans, baring his teeth against your shoulder. “Fuck, that’s it. Oh, you’d be fucking wasted on one of those dickless little science majors, you know that? That little shit wouldn’t have the first idea how to handle you. You think you’d be satisfied with him?”

“No!” You sob, clenching up around Quaritch’s cock hard.

You hardly know which way is up, never mind who he’s talking about, as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you back and forth over his dick like you’re a goddamn doll. Being used like this, as though you weigh nothing, is so much hotter than you ever could have imagined. If you weren’t so fucked out, you think you probably would have appreciated this a lot more.

You can hardly even speak, unable to muster up the brainpower required to form words when you’re being fucked like this. You know that soft, breathy sort of moans are being driven out of you with every roll of Quaritch’s hips, soft little uh uh uh uh's, but you don’t have the presence of mind to regulate yourself.

Quaritch doesn’t last as long as usual; it seems like having you riding his face had worked him up far more than you had expected, because soon he’s coming with a snarled roar. To your surprise, he doesn’t come inside like he usually does.

Instead he pulls out, fists his cock, and spills his load all over your bare stomach. There’s a truly ridiculous amount of it considering his size, and it drips all over your belly, your hips, and even spills down over your pussy. You don’t complain; you can barely even form a coherent thought other than the quiet complaint you murmur because you feel so empty now.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Quaritch lowers himself down so that his chest is pressed to your naked breasts. He’s careful not to crush you, pushing his face into your throat and inhaling deeply before pressing a clumsy kiss to your temple. 

You’re still reeling, eyes unfocused and mind hazy and stupid as you turn your head and push your face into his chest. He’s so warm, and you shiver against him as he gathers you into his arms. As good as his fucking you is, having him cradle you like this in the aftermath is almost better. You relish the skin to skin contact, the way his thick fingers coast over your sweaty bare back.

You think you could probably lay there against his massive chest, floating in the aftermath, forever. You’re so comfortable, all loose and floaty and so, so satisfied, the thought of moving doesn’t even cross your mind.

So naturally, Quaritch decides to sit up with a grunt. You whine, reaching up to slap at his chest without opening your eyes. He pays you no mind, reaching to tuck himself away with one hand, using the other arm to hold you still against his chest.

“Fuck,” He grunts as he buttons up his trousers single-handedly. “I needed that. Missed you when I was out there in the jungle. Been thinking about that for weeks now.”

You let out an absentminded grunt, just to show you're listening. You’re still laying limp against his chest, turning your face into cushions of his pecs.

Quaritch laughs, clearly pleased with the job he’s done on you. You feel his nose nudge at the top of your head, and sigh contentedly, enjoying the intimacy of him holding you tight. But then his hand comes down to lay an open-palmed slap against your ass, and you jolt with a startled squawk at the sting.

“C’mon,” He grunts, pushing himself up. His grip on you loosens, and you slip bonelessly down to the floor. “Up and at ‘em.”

“What?” You mumble blearily, rolling your head around limply on your neck. You feel completely boneless, as though Quaritch has managed to fuck every bit of rigidity out of you.

To your bewilderment, Quaritch heaves himself to his feet. While you’ve been fucked dumb, Quaritch seems to have been energised by it. He rotates his waist, stretching his arms over his head with a wide-mouthed yawn that displays his sharp teeth, before rolling his shoulders in quick, sharp circles.

“Let's go get you some dinner.” He says, stretching his back. Something cracks in his spine and he moans in satisfaction. “You’ve been feeling neglected, yeah? I’ll get you some food.”

That’s not what you had meant by feeling neglected, and you roll your eyes and huff. You’re still laying completely nude on the floor, and you turn your face away from him. He’s still standing over you, hands on his hips as he waits for you to stand. When it becomes clear that you’re not going to be  getting up any time soon, he clicks his tongue impatiently. 

You yelp, startled, when his big hands fold around your waist and lift you right up off the floor. Your knees buckle under you when he sets you on your feet, and you stumble for a moment on wobbly legs like a newborn calf.

Quaritch doesn’t immediately move to steady you – when you glance up, you find him watching you with a poorly hidden smirk, clearly pleased with himself.

“Why can’t we rest for a damn minute?” You complain, reaching to hold tight to his arm as your legs tremble. “Fuck.”

Quaritch just snorts, watching you intently as your knees shake. “Quit the whining, princess. I’m doing something nice. There ain’t no fancy restaurants around here, in case you haven’t noticed. I’ll bring you to the commissary and get you food on my meal ticket – next best thing.”

There must be something seriously wrong with you, because you find yourself blushing over that.

“I have come all over me.” You complain, as he picks up your dress and tosses it to you. It hits your head and tangles you in it, and you attempt to wrangle your way out of it blindly.

“Mm.” He hums, rolling his shoulders as his eyes rove over your naked body. “So? I’ve got your squirt all over my face.”

You shoot him a dirty look, cheeks flooding with heat when you realise that he certainly does, because his face is still dripping with it. He’s a master of missing the point, and you suspect that he does it on purpose.

“We have to clean up before we go anywhere. I need a shower.” You sigh, reaching for a collection of tissues. You wipe at your belly, cleaning up the worst of the cum, before grabbing another handful and gesturing at him to lean down.

You’re somewhat surprised when he does as you ask, bending down and watching you with obvious amusement as you wipe the evidence of your release off his face. As you clean him he leans in, nostrils flaring as he sniffs. His eyes flutter half-shut, before he blinks them back open again.

“Nah,” He murmurs, his expression relaxing in a smirk of pure self-satisfaction. “You can take a shower later. C’mon – let’s get you that food.”

You’re still flushed and embarrassed as you wriggle your way back into your dress. You already know that you’re going to give in and do whatever he wants, but you’re still feeling argumentative and you don’t want to relent so easily.

“I don’t have any underwear.” You complain, tilting your head back to look at him. “You tore mine up-”

“You don’t need them,” He grunts dismissively, leaning against your desk as he watches you pull your dress into place. “No one else is gonna be looking up your skirt, anyway.”

You keep arguing anyway, even as he attempts to herd you towards the laboratory door. “Can’t we wait a little longer? I don’t wanna have to walk through the main lab and make eye contact with all the guys who know that I just got bent over in here–”

“They’ll know whether you wait a few minutes or not,” Quaritch says bluntly. “Besides, some of them probably need to learn by seeing.”

“Learn what–” You start to complain, before cutting yourself off.

You blink once, then twice, then turn your head to stare up at Quaritch. You only reach his navel, so you have to tilt your head right back.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your tone nothing short of revelatory. “You want them to see me like this. You want Geiszler to see me like this.”

He just grunts as though he’s not listening, but you can see the way his ears are swivelled towards you. When you just keep staring up at him, unmoving, he clearly realises that you’re not going to let it go because he sighs through his nose and turns his amber eyes back on you.

“So?” He challenges, his eyebrows raising. “He tried to get you drunk and worm his head between your legs. If the little bastard needs to see you covered in my cum in order to back off, fine.”

“Oh my god,” You complain, but you’re flushed hot and embarrassed. “You’re disgusting.”

He just grunts, and makes no attempt to argue. In fact he seems to agree judging by the stupid smirk on his face.

“Come on,” He says simply, “After food, you can curl up in your bed and vegetate for as long as you like, how ‘bout that?”

You squint up at him. “With you?”

Quaritch rolls his eyes as though exasperated with your clinginess, but you’re not blind – you can see the way the tips of his pointed ears have flushed darker and feel the way his tail coils around your leg as he ushers you toward the door.

He bends over at the waist and drops a quick kiss on your forehead. It’s the gentlest thing he’s done all evening, and you’re left mollified and silent as he smooths back some of your hair that had been messed up during your activities.

“Yeah, kid,” He mutters, “With me, if you want.”

A stupid, dopey smile breaks out on your face, impossible to repress. 

“You’re so stupid.” You sigh, though your silly grin softens the sting of your words. “I just squirted all over your face — of course I wanna cuddle with you later.”

“Watch that mouth.” Quaritch warns, but his ears twitch and you can tell that he’s pleased.

You just giggle, still beaming as you finally allow him to herd you towards the door to the main lab.  Co-workers be damned, you think smugly as he punches the command to open the door. You haven't missed the way he's been sniffing at you; if Quaritch wants to walk you all around the base while you smell like each other, then that's what you'll do.

Drabble— Longing

→ Infatuation | m.list

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Before setting fire to the hooches, Quaritch had decided to pay your little hut a visit. He was curious as to how you lived— eager to know more about you. There was clothing scattered around along with trinkets. A picture frame of you and Grace along with other science pukes posing for a picture. He took his time in tinkering with random objects that caught his curiosity— ornaments scattered here and there. It was homey— decorated just the way you like it. He inhaled softly, eyes hazing as your smell comforted his tense muscles. He sluggishly went over to your makeshift bed; it dipped under his weight as he sat down.

His fingers dragged along the fabric, rubbing it between his fingers. He gripped the garment tighter, pressing his nose against the fabric. It smelled just like you— he clung onto the fabric tighter; wrapping it around his body. It was as if you were embracing him. Just like how you used to— wrapping your arms around him and whispering sweet words in his ear. Tracing his scar with soft caresses— he stands up abruptly, chest heaving and heart thumping. His tail slapped numerous items to the ground as he pawed aimlessly at a pile of dirty clothes in your hamper.

His hands moved to their own accord— finding socks, shirts, bras and underwear. He snatched the clothes up smashing them against his face. He inhaled aggressively, his muzzle pressed against your soiled underwear. A low groan escaped his lips— tongue dragging across its surface. He could taste the tangy taste of your cunt on his tongue. His eyes rolled to the back of his head— saliva coating the fabric as he continued to suck on the piece of cloth. It wasn’t enough for him— but not to panic. Now that he has you waiting patiently for him back in his room where he ordered you to be placed; he’ll finally have a proper taste of you.

He dragged the pile towards the mattress, spreading the clothes across the bed. He laid down on the pile, nuzzling the clothing with the tip of his nose. He reached down grabbing his cock, lewdly squeezing the protruding bulge. He groaned in relief, his cock was swollen and desparte for much needed attention—without hesitance he shoved his palms down his pants; wrapping his hands around his length. With your panties shoved against his face his imagination runs wild. Short snippets of memories of your whorish moans come to mind— you sprawled on his bed with your legs spread out and him feasting on your drooling cunt.

His fingers pressed on the bulbous tip of his cock, pre-cum leaking out. His hips thrusted up, frantic to get any sort of friction he could get. His eyes rolled to the back of his head— ❝ shit— sweetheart, you’re driving me crazy ❞ he moaned out your name. He stroked himself with fervor, picturing you on top of him and riding his cock desperately like the good slut he knows you are. His hips stutter as he neared his high, lost in the intoxication of his desires for you. He wonders just how much your cunt can take— would you squeal and whine? Whine about how big his cock is? Push against his shoulders as you wiggle beneath him hoping for any mercy he can give— would you get drunk on cock— babbling nonsense as you go stupid. Fuck— what he would give to see you fall apart on his dick. Would he take you face down ass up? Mewling and whimpering as he bullies his cock into your cunt

He stroked himself with fervor, picturing you going stupid on him— having the full advantage to use you like a flesh light. His own personal hole for him to fuck— his teeth clenched down; eyes rolling to the back of his skull. He couldn’t cum now— not with his balls swollen and full of cum. He couldn’t waste his seed on his hands— his breath was labored as he released his cock from his grip. Not yet— not when he has access to your body, he’ll make sure to fill you up. He could picture it— your cunt messy and swollen, filled with cum— hell maybe you’ll pop another kid for him.

His hands trailed lower towards his swollen balls, fondling them with care as he imagined you on your knees; basking his balls with your tongue. He released a deap, grutal groan from his lips. Drool leaking at the corner of your lips with tears glistening in your eyes— messy— just how he likes it. He shudders at the thought— a wave of lust washes over him. He quickly gathers himself, shoving a couple of panties inside his pockets. He’ll have you soon— real soon

→ Tag List

@mechformers | @the-hufflebird-girl | @winxschester | @onlyreadz | @that-v03 | @dathomirian4 | @weasleytwinwheezes | @gatorgirl151 | @gryffinclawstuff | @drunkscientists | @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed | @misscaller06 | @dyingofcookies | @ornnhub | @blueberryera | @xoxotorri | @neytirisslave | @zeryodos | @gretesstuff | @netherklutz | @igakc | @whyyouhatemeeetmblr | @cavvedinn | @ok-boke | @avatarloversblog | @personaldemons-stuff | @buttercandy16 | @numarusworld | @smayhem | @heythere-06 | @sweetirilly | @starstruck-cowboy | @ducks118 | @neteyamsluvts | @anoungsoneandonly | @loveforfandomsstuff | @babyduk213 | @violilaqrs | @n4rcisst1cpers0nal1tyd1sorder

━━━ : © NERVOUS.D

Chapter Three— Unexpected visitors

→ Infatuation | m.list

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#SYNOPSIS— The dead come back to visit

#WARNING(S)— This is a dark fic, implications of abandonment, implications of being a bad mother, child abandonment, implications of discrimination, implications of physical abuse, yandere, unhealthy obsession, possessive, prey/hunter dynamics, scent kink, creepy behavior, throat usage?/does that even make sense?, forced kissing, noncon kissing???)) quaritch goes feral, unwanted touching

#CHARACTER(S)— Recom! colonel Miles Quaritch

#NOTE— so I lied— the good stuff will definitely be on the next chapter. I’m also planning to make a Drabble to make up for it

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Quaritch extended out his palm towards the diagram ❝ The target is pretty much this whole island group— ❞ he was cut of by Spider ducking beneath his large frame, he glanced down at his son smiling briefly, ❝— Never been up there, you know those waters doc. What kind of indigenous we got? ❞ Scoresby gestured towards the man on the opposite side of the diagram. The doc was startled out of his own thinking, hesitating briefly as he glanced at the blue Recom looking at him with piercing yellow eyes ❝ Well— uh we got metkayina mostly some Ta’unui maybe fifty villages— ❞

Having enough of his rambiling, Quaritch cut off him with a puzzled face, ❝ uh you are who?❞ he didn’t need to know what specific species of na’vi there was— all he needed to know where was the nearest village nearby to get stated on his mission ❝ Oh I’m uh Doctor Ian Garvin, a marine biologist ❞ he extended out his palm for a handshake but was ultimately ignored by Quaritch, he dropped down his hand in embarrassment, ❝ Fifty villages— a hundred villages. I don’t care we’ll search them all ❞ Scoresby scoffed, and snapped back with an obnoxious tone ❝ I hunt Tulkun, that’s what I’m rigged for that’s all my guys do. I’ve got quotas to meet ❞

A rotten wry smile split Quaritch face, he showed a smile with far too many teeth— teeth to sharp his lips curled up. He looked like a happy predator with upturned lips, ❝ I’ll be nice once than I won’t ❞ Behind him, Lyle lifted his respiratory mask taking a sip of carbon. His yellow eyes gleamed, as he watched the interaction between the two of them. Scoresby pursed his lips, not expecting to be threatened in his own ship, ❝ Oh if you can’t get out of it, get into it. All crew to stations! ❞

—

It was difficult being an outsider among the na’vi, unable to fully understand the ways of being‘ One of the people ‘ as they say. But they were welcoming to say the least— a bit skittish but nothing you can do about it. Had it not been for Jake sully— Toruk Makto as they call him; you would have never been accepted into the Ta’unui clan. You weren’t ‘ one of the people ‘ your simply coexisting with them. It was difficult at first, finding yourself frustrated with them— and yourself. It was a horrible decision to leave the forest but if you didn’t then you would be stuck with him— burden by the responsibility of being a mother. So you packed your things and left—

Gone the next day leaving no trace behind but a few personal belongings. It was heartless— to abandon a child but you couldn’t bare to look at it. Finding bile crawling up your throat whenever you ever so glanced at it. But that was years ago and you can only find yourself wanting to learn about their life now— only a little. You come up with your own conclusions, that’s he’s fine— doing much better now that you were gone. Has a happy family that gives him all the affection and care he needs— anything to lesson the guilt of abandoning him.

You were startled out of your thoughts as a blue hand appeared in your vision. You jumped like a feral cat, whisking around as your eyes caught culprit of a sheepish male na’vi. ❝Jesus Christ— must you always do this to me? ❞ The male na’vi blinked, cocking his head to the side as he stared at you with wide eyes, ❝ I do not understand this sky people talk— what is this Jesus Christ? ❞ You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal ❝ Dont worry about it— Sky people nonsense and all that. Your English has gotten good ❞ at your compliment, the male puffed up his chest in pride. You scoff at his flared ego— ever since you’ve been here this male na’vi was always by your side, claiming he was curious about the sky people.

He’s become your student— only for a short while. You’ve been teaching him English for quite some and was surprised to see him learn the language very quick. It brought a sense of peace towards you— familiarity. It’s as if you were back in the past with Grace helping her at the school. A wave of nostalgia hit you, often times you missed the moments you had with everyone. You smiled briefly, the past would always sneak upon you leaving nothing but a longing to see everyone. But you had made your bed— choosing to leave and abandon everyone. Now you must lay in your choices. ❝ You are friends with Toruk Makto, no? ❞

Confused by the sudden interest in an old friend, you nodded, ❝ Yeah— Jake sully, what’s the sudden interest in him? ❞ he hesitated briefly, ❝ He is residing in a metkayina clan— not far from here— there has been talk of war following him ❝ Your lips pursed in response, brows furrowing. ❝ That is odd— not something he would do. Who knows maybe he just wanted a vacation? ❞ He looked at you with wide eyes, ❝ You are certain of this? ❞ You hesitated briefly, you weren’t— Jake would of never fled the Omaticaya— especially Neytiri, seeing as how she loved her home and would even die for her people. This wasn’t something they would do— not unless they were running from something— or someone.

But no one could posses such a threat that would cause Jake to flee— and if they did, we’ll they were dead. But you couldn’t cause panic— ❝ I’m sure, who knows maybe it’s for diplomat reasons ❞ He seemed satisfied with your answer and bided you goodbye. You were back to being alone— busying yourself to your own devices. But worry seemed to overshadow your thoughts— worming their way inside your mind. If Jake was here than what of the boy you gave birth to? Jake didn’t adopt him— no the boy had foster parents that took care of him along with other human children that were left behind. But Jake promised— he promised to watch over him. Did Jake bring him here to the ocean clans? Or did he leave him back at the Omaticaya?

Worry gnawed at your gut— you couldn’t bare to risk seeing the boy. Your stomach churned in disgust— you were cut off by a horn being blasted through the air— your stomach dropped. Through the years residing in the clan not once has the horn been used. Distant cries were heard thought the beach and a loud rumbling sound swallowed their petrified cries. You scrambled towards the noise, terror sticking at your nerves as a large ship came into view, ❝ Oh fuck— fuck! ❞ you scrambled backwards running towards your small hut. You gathered your necessity items, shoving the basic necessities in a small bag.

None of this made sense— they shouldn’t be here, not once had they come near the islands. They were often seen out in the open waters hunting tulkun. This was different— had they come here to threaten or kill the na’vi residing in this island? Peace was not on the table so the like hold of the other two options happening were possible. You flinched at the loud cries coming from the na’vi and the curses of your mother tongue being shouted out. If they caught you— there was no doubt you might be publicly executed for betraying your race.

And so you hid— lost in the wildlife of Pandora you seeked shelter behind a trunk covered by bushes. Your breaths came out labored, you peeked from a small opening seeing the na’vi being rounded up on the clearing. You leaned forward trying to get a better view unaware of the footsteps behind you. You let out a scream as a hand tugged you up from your hiding place. You struggled immediately, clawing at the hands that held onto you— ❝ Stay still—! I got a traitor here! ❞ your attacker dragged you towards the clearing, gun pressing against your back.

You tripped over your own feet a couple of times as you were dragged to the clearing. Countless of na’vi were forced to kneel onto the sand with guns and tasers threatening to cause harm. There were avatars among them humans, dressed in full camo gear with weapons strapped towards their vest. The color drained from your face as you made eye contact with piercing yellow eyes, ❝ What the actual fuck— ❞ you were starting to panic, kicking your feet and acting like a mad woman— you were unsure of what to do but your brain screamed at you to run.

In front of you was the man you once thought was dead— no you were certain he was dead. His skeleton was out in the forest decomposing on itself. Yet, here he was, breathing and certainly alive. He was back from the dead and this time he came back blue. Beside him was a human boy wearing na’vi clothes, he was covered in blue stripes. A flicker of recognition sparkled in your eyes— your breath hitched at your throat, ❝no— no! ❞ you shook your head refusing to accept the truth. A newfound strength courses through your body.

You elbowed the guy on the ribs making a run for it, ❝ Don’t shoot! I need her alive! ❞ a familiar voice ran along the clearing— it was him. Colonel Miles Quaritch was back from the dead and came back bigger, stronger and faster in the body of a na’vi—a species he hated with a passion. But how was that even possible? You wouldn’t stay to find out— you had to leave— to hide

❝ Get back here! ❞ He roared out, the sheer volume and grit of his voice caused the ends of your hairs to stand up. He launched himself to your pursuit, screaming out in rage. He was hot on your tail, commanding you stop running but it only caused you to pump your legs faster. Soon enough you heard him right behind you— you glanced back a mistake you realized as he ran at you in a primal way. Hands and feet— claws out for a grip against the terrain he pounced on you. ❝C’mere! ❞ You ducked out the way, barley missing his grasp but not without paying the price of your shirt being torn by his claws. You slammed yourself against a trunk barley missing his claws. You scrambled back to your feet leaving him in the dust.

❝ Stop running! ❞ he screamed out, ❝ you’re suppose to be with me— You’re mine— mine! ❞ Sharp canines gritted against each other and bared into a sneer, his brows were furrowed and yellow eyes were wide like saucers— he looked insane as if he submitted himself to his primal instincts. He was fixated on getting you; even going as far as his abandoning his gun— anything that slowed him down. A shaky sigh left his lips as he gripped the garment of your torn blouse— he inhaled deeply pressing it against his nose. He swears he could taste your scent on his tongue. It’s yours— and you’re here with him.

He exhaled shaky, pocketing the torn piece of clothing inside his pocket. He glanced back up finding you no where in his sight. His ears flattened against his skull, tail laying limp, ❝Don’t be mean now honey— ❞ his voice drawled out, the smirk wiping off his face seeing as there was no indication to where you could possibly be. He scouted out the area in a frenzy coming to a halt as a thud behind him makes him turn around in a swift. He rushes over to the sound pushing away the wildlife , ❝ Gotcha! ❞ his excitement died down when all he found was a small animal cowering in fear. He let out a hiss of frustration, tail whipping around as his anxiety clawed at him.

Panic rose as he searched every creek he could find— which way did you go? His frustration bubbled in his chest, ❝ If you don’t come out right now I swear I’ll paint that ass red and blue! ❞ He looked left and right, running in circles looking for any sign or indication to where you could possibly be. Meanwhile, you had ran as far as you could ending up near your shack. You stoped to catch your breath, heart beating against your chest in an erratic way. You bended over placing your hand on your knees— you had lost him for now. But what can you do before he catches up to you again? For how long can you evade his grasp? Leaving the island would be impossible. This was a hopeless scenario for you— there was no way to flee and running was the only option. You could hide in your shack but wouldn’t that be the first place they would check?

You couldn’t give up now, standing straight you began to plot your next move. Hiding was a no go— you need small places somewhere a na’vi can’t fit in. You could hear the distant scream of your name out in the woods, your head whipped to the sound. Tripping over your own steps you decided to push more distance away from him. You knew exactly where to go— you’ve known this island for years. He doesn’t, all that matters is making sure he doesn’t catch up to you before you get there. Soon enough you heard a branch break beside you— you don’t have time to register the force that impacted you.

You feel like you’re flying through the air— unable to grasp what’s going on. He’s grabbing you and wrestling you beneath him— a coarse laugh came from him, his canines glistened from the copious amount of times of running his tongue over them— unable to swallow his exceeding amount of saliva. His tail thumped behind him in excitement, ❝ I got you, sweetheart— you’re mine now ❞ his chuckles were hoarse, shoulders shaking as deep rumbles came within his chest.

He pressed his nose against the juncture of your nape, curling himself to your size. You froze— did he just sniff you? He’s panting, whole body trembling. ❝ You done teasing me? You and I have some unfinished business to get to. How about we finish that family that we started? Give the brat a couple of siblings while you and I get to be acquainted once again ❞ You shook your head frantically, the thought of having another child with him disgust you. Tears slid down your cheeks freely, you wanted to scream and cry out. This was a nightmare come to life. You let out a squeal as you felt his palm reach down and grabbed a handful of your ass, groping and squeezing the flesh. He rained down numerous kisses on your neck, nipping and lapping at your flesh. You were frozen in place— He was terrifying, and too fucking big. His whole body encased yours. Quaritch looked at you, pupils blown wide—. Your attempts to trash away from his grip was useless against his strength and size. He was overwhelming— you could only see and feel him. Both of his massive biceps were placed beside you, lowering his chest towards back.

Back when he was human he always towered over you but now as a na’vi? He was huge— it was like you were his own personal human doll. You could hear shuffling behind you— you were manhandled as if you were nothing but cargo. You were face to face with him. His biceps kept you locked in his embrace, lowering himself towards you. He was starved for you— relishing every touch he could get from you. You however— we’re frightened and did everything possible to get away from his embrace. You wiggled and kicked helplessly under his strong grip— his arms tightened around you like a snake coiling around it’s prey. It only just hit how strong and big his was.

He hugged you even closer— if it was even possible to do so. Pressing your body against his, he let out a deep low moan making you let out a squeak as you felt his canines drag across your flesh. He leaned down again— seeing his face dip towards yours; you turned your face to the side avoiding his lips from touching yours. His lips skimmed over your cheeks— a low animalistic snarl escaped from him. His fingers dug into your jaws and wrenched your face to look back at him. ❝ You will not take this from me, girl— I have waited so long to have you ❞

His lips pressed against yours in a messy kiss, he pressed his tongue against your mouth. Claws prodding your jaw to open up as he swallowed your mouth whole. Tears streamed down your cheeks— He doesn’t get to have you— you weren’t his. You wish you could tell him this but all you can squeak out are muffled sobs. Quaritch was overjoyed— a sense of peace came flowing to him. You were back in his arms, exactly where he wanted you. Nothing can stop him now— not even the order he was given from his predecessor— you were meant to be his— human or na’vi doesn’t matter.

Your attempts to break away from the kiss were futile against his overwhelming strength. He deepened the kiss, tongue lashing at ever crook and crane he could find. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you felt his tongue slither down your throat. Your fist slammed against his chest seeing black dots prick at the corner of your vision. Feeling you go limp in his arms caused him to draw back from your mouth. His hold on you however remained— a string of saliva connected both of your lips. Face running red, you stared at him unable to fully wrap your head on just what happened

He stared back down at you, completely unfazed. As if this was the most natural thing to do ❝ What? Cat got your tongue, hmm Princess? ❞ , you shook your head to the side a couple of times; mumbling out incoherent words. His ears however managed to hear you every well, ❝ You’re not him— how are you even alive? You died— ❞ you babbled out— pawing against his chest pathetically, pushing and slapping with your weak strength. A mistake you were quick to realize as he slammed you back to the ground caging you in his arms, ❝ Just relax, princes I’ll explain it to ya— you see I’m a clone of that old man. He’s deceased— he was weak ❞ he hissed, ❝ I’m better— I’m stronger and I am going to take what is rightfully mine; starting with you ❞

Small wheezes came from you, you looked at him as if he was absurd ❝ I don’t belong to you— ❞ his fingers curled around your throat ❝ Watch it— clearly you’re attitude has been left unchecked for quite a long time. Don’t worry sweetheart, daddy will fix that ❞ His palm pressed against your back bringing you upwards to him, he coaxed you to his lap; tail wrapping around your arm. His palms groped your flesh, touching every place he could. His hands fiddled with your blouse, scrunching up the piece of fabric you called blouse tearing it off. You’re breast bounced from the impact— you curled inward to protect your modesty. His fingers itched to grab hold of your breast— lips curling up at your refusal. However, a static voice coming from his earpiece caused him to pause his actions. You couldnt catch what they were saying but you doubted it was anything good. His yellow eyes gleamed, ❝ Let’s get you back home— where you belong ❞

→ Tag List

@mechformers | @the-hufflebird-girl | @winxschester | @onlyreadz | @that-v03 | @dathomirian4 | @weasleytwinwheezes | @gatorgirl151 | @gryffinclawstuff | @drunkscientists | @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed | @misscaller06 | @dyingofcookies | @ornnhub | @blueberryera | @xoxotorri | @neytirisslave | @zeryodos | @gretesstuff | @netherklutz | @igakc | @whyyouhatemeeetmblr | @cavvedinn | @ok-boke | @avatarloversblog | @personaldemons-stuff | @buttercandy16 | @numarusworld | @smayhem | @heythere-06 | @sweetirilly | @starstruck-cowboy | @ducks118 | @neteyamsluvts | @anoungsoneandonly | @loveforfandomsstuff | @babyduk213 | @happyyappysworld | @n4rcisst1cpers0nal1tyd1sorder | @thetoxicegg

━━━ : © NERVOUS.D

Drabble — settle for

→ Infatuation | m.list

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He stared down at the rotted corpse, there is no remorse or sympathy that he feels. His predecessor failed in killing Jake sully— and now he’s here to finish what he couldn’t do. The green fletching arrows were intimidating— and struck horror in the depths of his chest. He doesn’t know if it’s his own delusion but he swears he feels a ghost of pain in his chest and torso— in the exact same spot his counter body was shot at.

Besides him Lyle patted down the skeleton, hesitating as his fingers came in contact with a crinkled piece of paper tucked inside a pocket. Quaritch was lost in his own dilema, dusting off the leftover debris from the human skull in the palm of his hands. ❝ Colonel— this belongs to you❞ Lyle motioned to the folded paper while nervously flicking his tail. Quaritch snatched the paper from his hand and unfolded the wrinkled paper sheet. It was a photo— of you. You were smiling, eyes sparkling in delight. You were gazing down at a floral bouquet— riddled with the rare plants of Pandora. You begged him— hell even pleaded with him to make you one.

And his human counter part couldn’t tell you no. Instead he sent out his group of men along with a few scientist to bring him those specific flowers that you wanted. He sees now just how crafty you were— those flowers were incredibly difficult to get. They were found in parts of the jungle that humans weren’t able to access due to the danger of hostile predators. You had given him a specific list of just what you wanted— claiming you wanted nothing but the best. And he— he could provided them for you couldn’t he? Because he was the Colonel, he was a man who could do it all. In truth— they were more than just meets the eye. The scientist had wanted their greedy little hands on them but weren’t able due to the restriction of the area.

You were a smart little thing— able to batt your eyelashes at him and purr at his chest. Seducing him to your whims. You had gotten what you wanted from him— and well it’s not like he didn’t get what he wanted— everything has a price after all. It was only until later that he realized the truth of your actions and affection towards him— but it was far too late for him to care. You could use him for as much as you like, as long as you stayed in his embrace.

His thumb brushed against the picture, wishing willfully to have you back in his arms. He pocketed the picture in his vest, he’ll have you back soon in his arms. For now— he would have to settle with this photo.

→ Tag List

@mechformers | @the-hufflebird-girl | @winxschester | @onlyreadz | @that-v03 | @dathomirian4 | @weasleytwinwheezes | @gatorgirl151 | @gryffinclawstuff | @drunkscientists | @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed | @misscaller06 | @dyingofcookies | @ornnhub | @blueberryera | @xoxotorri | @neytirisslave | @zeryodos | @gretesstuff | @netherklutz | @igakc | @whyyouhatemeeetmblr | @cavvedinn | @ok-boke | @avatarloversblog | @personaldemons-stuff | @buttercandy16 | @numarusworld | @smayhem | @heythere-06 | @sweetirilly | @starstruck-cowboy | @ducks118 | @neteyamsluvts | @anoungsoneandonly | @loveforfandomsstuff | @babyduk213

━━━ : © NERVOUS.D