Not Gonna Lie You Make Me Cry N Get Wet

“I could never like Quaritch or the Recoms, they’re the bad guys.”

Me:

I hope the bitter cynical lonely fictional character knows that i love them

Red Rivers Run Deep

word count: 1787

Pairing: Human! Colonel Miles Quaritch x Human! Female! Reader Tags/Warning: hurt, comfort, established relationship, slight angst, crying, period cramps Summary: Period pains aren't the only pain you're dealing with right now. You're grateful that your husband is there to comfort you.

Author's Note: So I wrote this, then didn't like what I wrote so I rewrote it TwT For the request from @idrinktheadarling Hope it's to your liking! Apologies as always for any grammatical mistakes.

You didn’t think something so insignificant could affect you to such a degree.

But it wasn’t insignificant, now was it?

The seemingly inoffensive pink line stares back at you.

Singular.

Negative.

You throw the pregnancy test in the trash, washing your hands with gusto as if to wash away the pain.

And it was not just the physical pain of your impending period that assaults you. Your heart is aching something fierce. You feel guilty. It was as if, what right did you have, to dream of such things? What deeds have you done, to earn such happiness?

If Eywa was real, then she did not bless you this day. If God was real, then you feel as though you are far beyond his reach.

You had been so sure, yet cautiously hoping. Your period was late, as was indicated on the app you used to track it. The pains you got were always severe, sometimes taking you out of commission completely.

You remember that you need to tell Grace you won’t be available for any field work for a few days, perhaps even a whole week. You call her through the commlink. True to her name, she was gracious in understanding of your situation. She can tell something is off; there is a troubled cadence to your voice underneath your hisses of pain. She doesn’t press you for answers. You ask her to send your husband your way should she see him.

Once you’re done with your call, you meander to the bed, carefully laying yourself on Miles’ side. His pillow smells so faintly of his cologne. And even though you clearly have matching bedding, his pillow somehow felt just that much softer.

Another slice of pain cuts through you, and you clench your teeth to bear through it. Fucking hell, you wish you could be in your Avatar right now. Never have you felt so envious of, what was essentially just another you; the Na’vi didn’t have periods like humans did.

You smile at the memory of when Grace had regaled you with the tale of mortified looks from the older Omatikayan children’s faces when she had explained the concept to them all years ago. You had laughed until your stomach ached when she tried imitating them.

“‘Sa’nok! Are you bleeding now?? Are you okay, does it hurt???’ Oh, poor Tsu’tey was beside himself!” Grace laughs with a hand to her heart. She’s still giggling when she tries making a disgruntled face, pretending to swat someone behind the head.

“‘Tsk! Skxáwng! It’s probably impolite to ask such things! Sorry Sa’nok, please pay him no mind.’ Sylwanin gave him an earful for that one. She was always so bright that one, wise beyond her years…” Her voice trails off then. You see the shift in her gaze, the sadness behind her faltering smile. Even years later, the pain of what those soldiers did still lingers...

Another stab of pain interrupts your trip down memory lane. You curse out loud, clutching your abdomen. You don’t feel like stumbling through the base to medical for some pain killers.

You close your eyes, trying your best to will yourself to sleep. If Eywa could not bless you with a child, then maybe she would at least let slumber take you.

---

When next you open your eyes, you look out the window to see night has already fallen. The pain has subsided to a dull ache. You notice then, that a hot water bottle has been nestled against you, with your hands carefully maneuvered to hold it in place.

What? Who? When?

The answer is immediately obvious. The sounds from the bathroom catch your ears; the shower is running, and you can hear the faint yet distinct sound of familiar humming. Miles must have come in some time whilst you slept on, placing the warm bottle where it now lay.

You let out a deep content sigh, readjusting yourself and the bottle to be more comfortable on your side, facing away from the bathroom door. You eye then catches the items placed on the bedside table. There is a thermos, and when you reach out to touch it, the bottle still feels hot. Beside it sits some pain killers in a small plastic cup.

You sit up, propping yourself against the pillows. And as you do, you see the bag sitting at your bedside. It’s filled with little boxes and packets of your favourite snacks; at least the ones available here on Pandora.

You lip quivers, and you feel as though you could cry. You love the small gestures just as much as the grand. You clear your throat, vigorously rubbing your cheeks to stop yourself from crying. You grab the thermos. You unscrew the lid and sniff the hot contents. The smell is delectable and enticing. Your pour yourself some in the lid and drink it down greedily.

You sit there, drinking from the thermos in quiet contemplation.

The dull ache in your lower abdomen pulls your mind back to that accursed test in bin. You wonder if Miles saw it, what would say? Would he share in your sadness? Would he be relieved? Would he berate you for wanting to even start a family?

But what was really waiting for you there? A dying world? Was there even anything worth going back for? You had no immediate family. The only family you truly had now, was here, on this planet light years away. And who knew how long you’d even be stationed here anyway; this was for all intents and purposes your new home. And despite its rough edges, you loved this place to bits.

Did you even want to start a family on Pandora? You know all too well the hostility of this place. It was probably a stupid idea, wanting to have kids here. It would be a far better idea to wait until you’re both shipped back home.

And you love your husband dearly. And you are certain, without a shadow of a doubt, he loves you back just as much. You feel apprehensive though; the two of you had spoken of kids before, but it was always around ‘when we get back home’. Pandora never did feel like home for him; probably never would.

Your lips press into a thin line as your mind spirals lower. Why this time, out of all the other times…Why was it this particular time, that you’re so disappointed?

You don’t even realize the noise from the bathroom has stopped. Nor do you even register when Miles emerges from the bathroom dressed for bed.

---

Miles stops himself in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning on the door frame. He takes the time to stare at you, study you. You’re sitting up in bed, drinking from the thermos he brought. Your eyes are unfocused, staring blanking ahead. He wonders what’s on your mind, but he has a pretty good idea of what it could be. He had seen the test in the bin. Luckily, he didn’t need to pick it up; it had been facing upward, the pink line in plain sight.

He watches the micro expressions that dance across your face as your mind wonders. There is a tightness in his chest, and he quietly grimaces. He knows he needs to talk to you; you are clearly upset and the air needs to be cleared. When he sees the threat of tears in your eyes, the quiver of your lip, he swiftly pushes himself off the wall.

---

The sound of his approach has you snap your head up to him. It takes you a moment to register, but you offer him a gentle smile. It does not reach your eyes.

“Hi honey,” you greet him, holding up the thermos. “Thanks for this, I really need it. All of it, actually…” You return the thermos to the bedside.

“It’s no trouble sweetheart, anything for my best girl.” He lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms does. You nestle yourself into his side, head resting on his shoulder, hand resting on his chest, the hot water bottle sandwiched between you two.

“[Y/N]…Are you okay?”

It’s such a simple question. Requires a simple answer.

Instead you cry. He turns himself to face you, arms wrapping around you. He pulls you to him, your hands fist into his shirt tightly.

His hand leaves warm patterns in your back, his mouth whispers comforts into the softness of your hair.

When you manage to calm yourself, reduced to only sniffing, you finally speak.

“I’m…sorry…” you manage to choke out. He tuts you, and you feel him shake his head.

“You don’t ever have to apologise darling; least of all to me. You wanna cry, you go ahead and cry.” He wipes your face with tissues you didn’t even see him grab.

You open your mouth to speak, but instead you groan in pain as you’re hit with another wave of pain.

“Did you take the painkillers?”

“No…forgot…”

Miles reaches behind you, grabbing the little cup. He hands it to you, and you wordlessly take it. You wash down the pills with a swig from the thermos.

Miles instructs you to lie on your back. He moves his hand under the pillow, laying on his side, pressed into you. He moves the water bottle away, replacing it with his hand instead.

Slowly he rubs your lower abdomen in gentle circles. The light pressure almost feels like a massage. You let out a content sigh as the pain subsides back into the dull ache. You feel his breath tickle the hair on your head.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks vaguely.

“Not…right now. Maybe tomorrow? When I’m not in so much pain please…” You answer, and he’s not entirely convinced you’re only talking about cramps.

“Of course sweetheart,” he plants a kiss to your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too, thank you…” You close your eyes, leaning your head into him.

“If it means anything…I just want you to know, I think you’d be a great mom…And I’d love nothing more to start a family with you…Even if it has to be on Pandora.”

You turn your head to look at him then. His gaze speaks a thousand words. All of them feel like declarations of love. You lean up and he instinctively leans down to meet you half way.

Your lips press upon one another in a soft languid kiss; soft and tender with metered passion.

And just as his hand lessens the pain in your lower abdomen, so too do his words lessen the pain in your heart.

You feel assured, that everything will be okay.

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.

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· • —– 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

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<previous chapter> | 3 | <next chapter>

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

@mightyneteyam THANK YOU SO MUCH 🙏😊 IM SORRY FOR THE HURT 😖😘❤️

Resplendent

word count: 1220

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Female! Metkayina! Na'vi Reader Tags/warnings: Fluff, angst, bittersweet, established relationship, adult reader, adult Neteyam, no smut Summary: Neteyam quietly watches you from the shore as you perform a ritual dance in the water, to the utter delight of your daughters.

Author's Note: Set some time after the big battle. Also moved those events further ahead. You and Neteyam are mated and have children before the RDA attacks the reef. Got inspired by the song~

Sa’nu - mum, mommy Tahni - bioluminescent freckle

Close your eyes.

Deep breathes.

Remember the moves.

Remember the words...

Your heart thrums in your chest almost painfully. You take a deep, slow, calming breath; placing a hand over your heart.

“Sa’nu? Are you okay?”

You open your eyes, looking down to meet the gaze of your youngest daughter. The cool water of the sea comes up to her neck. Sweet thing. You told her, she and her sister could watch you from the shoreline. But they were persistent to be as close to you as possible. The water barely reaches your hips.

You offer a soft smile, reaching down and affectionately stroking her hair.

“I’m okay…Don’t worry my little star. Mommy’s just nervous.” The 5-year-old beams up at you with a toothy grin. Your 6-year-old beside her pats you on the arm.

“You practiced aaaaall the time! You got this.” She offers you her own encouraging smile. You give her an appreciative nod before facing the shoreline once more. You return your face to neutrality, closing your eyes once again.

You hear the disturbance of the water as your daughters move a bit to the side to give you more space to move.

With one final calming breath, you open your mouth and begin the song cord of your family.

---

Neteyam stands under the shade of a nearby tree on the shoreline. His arms are crossed as he watches the three of you.

The evening breeze carries your voice to him. He stands up straight when the sound hits his ears.

When you sing, it reminds him of the melody of birdsong in spring. No matter how many years may pass between you two, every time he hears you play the instrument of your heart, he feels like he could fall in love with you all over again.

He takes in your form as you start swaying in the water, admiring you from top to bottom.

Your hair, thick and long, reaching all the way down to your knees; you and your sisters spent what must have been hours, braiding it into the intricate patterns now adorning your head.

Even from this distance, he can still make out the faint markings of the tattoos framing your face. Though today you also have a thin line of white painting the centre of your face. You could have mud smeared all over and he would still find you to be the most beautiful woman; you have him convinced you are blessed by Eywa herself.

You arms move slow and with purpose through the air; attuned with the words as they fall from your lips.

Your soft lips.

How he wishes he could kiss you right now.

You dip down, submerging your arms into the water. In one fluid motion, you rise back up to your feet, the motion you perform with your hands and arms bring water up with you as you rose. Your arms are stretched out to your sides as you pirouette.

Neteyam’s heart skips a beat as he watches you, and it’s as if time itself slows, just so he can drink in the beauty of your very being.

With your back to eclipse, your front is cast in shadow.

The water falls around you in a shimmering curtain of rain. The last light of eclipse hits the smooth stones woven into the fabric on your chest; causing a cascade of colours to dance across your skin. And when the sun disappears, your tahni come to life like the brilliance of dawn.

It’s one of his most favourite parts of your body. Though you had the scattered stars as did all Na’vi, for reasons he attests only to being blessed by Eywa, you have thin bioluminescent swirls weaving itself around your arms, chest, and all down your legs. To him it’s like a faint galaxy glittering in the night.

He recalls fondly the memory of him knowing each and every star on your body intimately.

And in the fading light of the day do you shine before him. Resplendent as you are in the day, so too will you dazzle the world around you in the darkness of the approaching night.

His heart throbs something fierce when you open your eyes after dipping into the water once more. Even behind the curtain of water, or the netting of the fabric draped over your head, your eyes glow with a fierceness he knows all to well. It pierces his very soul, a warmth sweeping over him.

He drinks you in more as you bend your form this way and that. He wishes he knew the intricacies of your dance; understood what each fluid motion meant, the significance of each swish of your tail, or the ways you angle your hands and bend your fingers.

You close your eyes as you near the end of the cord song.

As you perform another twirl, you playfully swat the water with your thick tail, splashing your daughters.

Their uncontrollable gigging brings a smile to your face. You open your eyes as you continue to dance, giving them a loving look. They’re splashing each other with reckless abandon as they try to imitate your moves. You can’t help the unrestrained laughter their antics bring you.

Neteyam laughs quietly to himself as he watches his girls playfully flay about in the water. Every day since their birth he’s given thanks to both you and the Great Mother for blessing him with such miracles. He hadn’t thought it was possible to love something as much as he loved you.

He feels a stray tear fall down his cheek. But he doesn’t move to wipe it away. Instead he continues to smile as he watches your song and dance coming to its conclusion.

You turn to face the horizon, and he’s gaze drifts to his girls.

They’re singing something he can’t quite make out, but he loves the sound nonetheless.

And when their eyes meet his, finally noticing his presence, they wave at him wildly, giggling all over again.

His smile grows wider, and he offers them a small wave back.

---

One final pose, and you hold the final note of your song, eyes still closed. You hold that note until your lungs and throat burn.

You hear the excited cheers of your daughters as they shower you with praise. Your breathing is laboured as your heart pounds in your chest, but you offer them a bow and a small smile of gratitude.

You turn yourself to the horizon before you finally open your eyes. The ritual dance has come to and end.

You rub the cool ocean water on your cheeks, in your neck, and down your arms; all in an effort to cool you down from your laborious activity. You breath deep in from the nose, and slowly exhale through your mouth, calming your rapid heartbeat.

The girls still giggle beside you, resuming their unrefined dancing; now also singing their favourite lullaby in lieu of a songcord.

Sufficiently cooled off, you turn your head to your daughters to admire them in their silliness.

Your brow nits in slight confusion though, when you see them waving at something behind you, giggling all the while.

You turn around, curiosity in your eyes.

But the shoreline is just as empty as when you arrived.

---

Author's Notes: It was a private funeral dance 😢

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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

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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

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