Recom Quaritch - Blog Posts

Been writing an AU fanfic for Avatar, where the recoms go rogue. This is the Mansk chapter, the second chapter, I’ve been working on. It’s not fully complete but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out

Mansk wasn't entirely sure how this happened, sure he was there the entire time, but it still made no sense.

Mansk watched as the strange na'vi woman seemed to be engaged in a tense looking discussion with the squad's leader, Quaritch.

Oare seemed completely unbothered, as she has been since she arrived. Quaritch however, had that distinct expression he got when he was given orders.

Before Mansk could try and decipher what was being said, Quaritch turned to the rest of the group.

"Alright, listen up! Our new friend here is gonna teach us to ride like the enemy." Quaritch said, gesturing for her to continue.

"We will be going to the Ikran Rookery and Eywa willing, you all will be bonding with Ikrans today. I will teach you everything you will need to know, starting with getting to the Rookery." Oare said, pointing up to the massive cluster of floating mountains above them.

Mansk tried his best to not think about how screwed he'd be if he lost his footing. Him and the rest of the recoms were ridiculous high up, scaling the floating mountains and vines that lead up to the Rookery.

-

-

The group had stopped for a brief break on a spacious ledge, giving them a beautiful view of the sprawling forest below them.

"So, what are you gonna name your ban-ikran?" Z-Dog asked as she climbed up next to Mansk. Oare had insisted that if they are to understand their enemy, they needed to understand the language.

"Tomahawk." Mansk answered, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Like the steak cut?"

"Yeah and apparently it's a type of weapon too, like a hand axe. What are you going to name yours?"

"Ink, our colors will match." Z-Dog says, gesturing to her many tattoos.

“You sound so sure.”

“Call it a gut feeling.”

Eventually it was time to keep moving. Mansk continued to try his best to not look down as he and the others continued their climb.

-

-

Finally they reached the Rookery. Ikran were everywhere, basking on ledges, interacting, flying around, and hanging onto cliff sides. The recoms followed the na’vi woman, she led them to a cave next to the main area of the Rookery. It was connected to the main area by a thin ledge behind a waterfall.

“Who wishes to go first?” Oare asks.

“I’ll do it.” Quaritch says. Oare hands the lasso like tool she had made earlier, to him.

For a brief moment, Quaritch looked a little nervous, but the look was quickly replaced by a focused determination. He entered the main area of the Rookery, catching the attention of several ikran. Many flew off as Quaritch got close, but one whipped around and snapped at him. The beast was beautiful, as all ikran were. It was blue and gold, with splashes of faded red.

Mansk watched in awe as Quaritch dodged around the ikran’s jaws and wings, before seamlessly lassoing the creature’s jaws shut. He lunged, managing to wrestle with the ikran and getting on its back. He grabbed the kuru and was about to connect to it, but the ikran bucked, throwing itself off the ledge.

Behind Mansk, Lyle jumped up but was stopped by Oare. After a few tense moments that felt like hours, a loud shriek echoed through the air and the ikran suddenly appeared, Quaritch on its back with a massive grin on his face. Mansk and the other recoms cheered and whooped.

“What’s their name?!” Z-Dog called out.

“Her name’s Cupcake.” Quaritch called back, petting the ikran’s neck.

Lyle went up next. The ikran that chose him was a beautiful mix of blue and green with patches of yellow and crackles of black across its wings and body. The ikran lunged, trying to sink its teeth into Lyle. He dodged, though only narrowly missing the sharp teeth. Following both Oare’s instructions and Quaritch’s example, Lyle lassoed the ikran’s jaws shut and managed to clamber onto its back. He managed to make the connection much faster and much easier than Quaritch. Lyle was beaming, proudly naming him Eagle.

Z-Dog went next, her ikran was a wondrous splash of color. The ikran’s scales were shifting shades of blue, green, red, and swirls of yellow. Z-Dog named him Ink.

Then Mansk stepped up. His palms were sweaty, his stomach twisted itself in knots. It sounds easy on paper, but the actual act of getting an ikran was incredibly nerve wracking, despite how easy the others made it look. Mansk began to move through the Rookery, seemingly every ikran was disinterested in him. Out of nowhere, an ikran slammed down in front of him. It was stunning, colors making it look like a giant peacock. It shrieked, reared and flapped its large wings at him. Mansk’s eyes met the eyes of the ikran and his nervousness washed away, his heart steadied, and his breath evened. In a fluid motion, he lassoed the ikran’s mouth shut. It swung its head, narrowly missing hitting Mansk square in his face. Mansk dodged to the side, all but throwing himself onto its back. The ikran bucked and flailed, trying its best to throw him from its back. It somehow, in the confusion managed to pull the yìmkxa from its mouth. Its head swung to the side, sinking its teeth into Mansk’s shoulder and yanking him from its back. Mansk could hear the other recoms’ surprise and worry but he paid them no mind, currently focusing on not being torn apart. Mansk hissed, both in challenge and in pain. He lunged once more, managing to grab onto the kuru of the creature. He yanked his braid, managing to connect to the ikran’s kuru after a bit of struggle.

“Easy, boy.” Mansk said, brushing his hand along the ikran’s neck. “Easy Tomahawk.”

Mansk and his ikran settled near the others, giving the remaining recoms room. Oare and Ja appeared at Mansk’s side, carrying a few medical supplies. The two of them tended to the bite wound, Oare even slathered a pale paste on the wound as she said it would naturally speed up the healing process.

The other recoms, one by one, bonded with an ikran. Prager’s ikran was a subtle green mottled with darker green, black, and gold. He named him Malachite. Lopez’s ikran was a soft pastel yellow and purple, he named her Dahlia. Ja was next, his ikran was shades of green and marked with pink and soft purple, he named him Asclepius. Zhang’s ikran was a gleaming gold, striped by dark purple and vibrant blue. Zhang named her Ming. Brown’s was a beautiful mix of purples and pinks, speckled by white, he named him Lollipop. Walker’s was soft browns, highlighted by brilliant golden, her face and chest was pale, almost white. Walker named her Athena. Fike’s was soft yellow, striped by black and bright orange, with cyan wing tips. Fike named him Goldrush. Finally, Warren went. His Ikran was a vibrant red with swirls of teal. He named her Rose.

“Now, the final act to seal the bond. Fly.” Oare said, falling backwards off the ledge, only to suddenly reappear on the back of a ikran, a night ikran.

Without hesitation the recoms took off, following Oare’s lead.

Around Mansk the other recoms cheered, excitement palpable as they all took to the air. Mansk was captivated by the beauty of the forest, the sky, and the floating mountains. But most of all he was captivated by the feeling of flying, of feeling Tomahawk’s heartbeat like he felt his own, of feeling the wind flow around them.

The Angy Bois

Featuring the blue men of pandora 🤭

Which one would you rather have mad at you?

IM SO GRATEFUL THAT IM NOT THE OBLY ONE WHO THOUGHT IF THAT💀

YOU KNOW WHO THIS MOTHERFUCKER LOOK LIKE LOWKEY??

LOOOOK

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

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

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]

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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 :(

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God DAYUM

Listen to me

Miles Quaritch x female recombinant reader

Words: 3.9k

Summary: The cute newbie of his squad enjoys late night activities way too much, keeping Miles up every single night since she moved into the quarters next to his room.

Warnings: explicit smut, masturbation, mutual masturbation, p in v, doggy, accidental voyeurism, secret crush, teasing, creampie, age difference, alien biology, Z-dog being a subtle wingman lol, degradation & praise kink, just quaritch being quaritch (reader calls him Sir)

Of course they had warned him about this. The heightened senses and all that. Miles knew about the Na‘vi’s keen sense of smell, their incredible eye sight and the distinctive hearing, even before he became one of them. Well, sort of.

What he didn’t expect though, was how incredibly good his sense actually were now.

It was a blessing and a curse.

A blessing mostly because it gave him an advantage, made him better than the human soldiers, a better version of his own past self. And finally he was eye level with his sworn enemy. But as soon as he was back in bridgehead city, back at the base and in his private quarters, it was curse. Miles could handle his new body and all the changes that came with it, there was no doubt in that. But out of all things, it was his distinctive hearing that quite literally made his life hell. Well, not his whole life but specifically his nights.

To his right, there was Lyle‘s room. The Corporal had always been a heavy sleeper, snoring louder than the roar of a Thanator. It was annoying, but bearable, even with his heightened senses. To his right, however, there was your room.

Miles didn’t know you when you were a human, he had only frequently met you when you had joined his team. You were a cute thing, young and eager and maybe a little too pretty to be a recom soldier. You looked more like you belonged to the nerds working in the bio labs, always walking around with that bright smile and sunshine attitude. And you definitely got on his nerves more than he would like to admit. More so, when Ardmore made you move in to the room right next to his. Now his nights were spent mostly sleepless, forced to listen to the little night owl he had as his new neighbor. All thanks to the Na‘vi and their damn distinctive hearing.

On some nights, it felt like there weren’t any walls at all. He could hear you loud and clear, like you were standing right here in his room as you did your little bedtime routine, several hours after you were supposed to go to bed.

Quaritch could hear how you turned on the shower, the water running against the tiled wall and down the drain for a good ten minutes until he heard you step under the spray. You probably loved a good, hot shower, he noticed right away in the first night. From then on, with nothing better to do than to lay there and listen to the newbie showering, Miles often found himself imagining you under the spray of water.

He just couldn’t help it. His mind almost instantly presented him with a clear picture of your naked body, imagining you all wet and soapy, with your hands running over your curves. Fuck, he could smell your damn shampoo all the way from here. Fucking vanilla, he scoffed, as his hands found the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down enough to free his now hard cock. He would make you run an extra mile around the campus tomorrow, just for that.

It’s not often that he had some alone time on this damn planet. Better use his precious time wisely if he couldn’t sleep anyway…

At least he had his private quarters, unlike most of his subordinates who either had to keep it in their pants or be stealthy about it. Or didn’t care what others might think of their nightly jerkoff session.

Miles was so hard, his cock was throbbing painfully in his palm as he begins to move his hand up and down, stroking lazily to the thought of you. Faintly, he remembers overhearing a conversation between you and Z-dog from a couple of days ago. It was after a mission, when she had asked how you always smelled so nice and what you used to keep your skin so soft. Their new bodies required more care than what they were used to when they were all still human, so you happily recommended her some oil that you frequently used. Of course you went into full detail, talking about how she had to use a generous amount and make sure to rub it into her skin and fucking great, now he was imagining you oiling yourself up like a damn snack.

Miles was gritting his teeth as he stroked over his shaft, squeezing the blue tip of his cock just right, forcing the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles. While he enjoyed fast-pace excitement every so often, it was nice to take his time and let all the pleasure course through him.

Out of all his years of living, he had never wanted to bend a woman over so bad. It was an unfamiliar feeling, something that hadn’t plagued his usually cool and composed mind in such a long time. You just looked so inviting, so good, so kissable, suckable, so fuckable. Miles wanted to bend you, eat you and fuck you in so many different ways, he wanted to make you cry. He wanted to see tears trickle down that beautiful face of yours, wanted to see those plumb lips slick with spit and his cum. And fuck, did he wanted to see that ass bounce on him. You were almost as sweet as your delicious ass looked. Quaritch wasn’t the type to stare, he barely paid you any attention at all, truth be told. But god damn, was it hard not to crane his neck to get a glimpse of that ass whenever you walked by.

On some nights, his perverted thoughts would come to an end once you mercifully decided to end your twenty minute long hot shower and went to bed. On other nights however, you didn’t went straight to bed. Well, to bed yes but… not to sleep. Those nights were the very reason Miles was cursing your name so venomently while wrapping his fist tightly around his cock.

Those nights, where you would settle down with the faint creak of your bed and where he could pinpoint the exact moment your breathing increased. He could see it clear as day in his minds eye, how you laid down and spread those pretty legs, ran your soft hands down over your stomach until they disappeared between your thighs. Oh, how he would love to bite into the soft of your inner thighs, leave his marks there, before he would taste you. Miles frequently imagined the flavor of your pussy and he could almost taste it on his tongue every time. He bets you’re so sweet– all dripping wet, smelling like that damn vanilla stuff and so fucking delicious.

The recom‘s ears twitched as they picked up the sounds of your tender fingers entering your slick cunt. God, what he would give to replace them with his cock. Miles tried to stroke his length in the same rhythm of those obscene squelching sounds coming from the room next door. But those sweet moans and heavy pants that left your lips made it very difficult for him to not fuck his fist like a madman.

There’s a tightness, a warmth that swells inside him and it gets even worse when he hears you shift around on your bed, clearly turning to your side to reach for something.

By now, he already knew the familiar sound of your nightstand drawer getting pulled open. It was a sound that would probably wake him up from the deepest slumber and instantly give him a boner. Like some sort of muscle memory or whatever. And that even though he absolutely hated when you used your toys. And you seemingly had a various amount of them. Going by the way you were moaning and whimpering on some nights, they had different sizes too. Oh you would definitely be able to take all of him, if he were ever going to stuff that needy little hole of yours.

But the worst of all was whatever toy you owned that was buzzing so fucking loud. He cursed it. Were you really that desperate that you needed a vibrator too? It was almost impossible to hear your sweet moans, thanks to that damn thing.

If you needed something to fill you up so bad, why didn’t you just ask? There were like… ten guys in his squad that would gladly bend you over the next best surface, going by the way they all looked at you and tried their absolute most to sweet talk their way into your pants. Why the fuck were you rejecting them, if you needed to get laid so bad?

Nevertheless, Miles thanked god you didn’t settle for that vibrator today. Whatever you had chosen instead though, must’ve been big enough for you to whine so loud, even a regular without distinctive hearing could’ve heard that.

Quaritch‘s imagination provides him with images of you, laying on your bed and with your legs spread wide while you thrust the toy into you. Or would you kneel? Would you hover over it and slowly sink down, forcing the silicon cock to stretch you out to the absolute most? Maybe you were the type of girl that would enjoy a little pain, maybe you would rush it because you’re so desperate. You would just sit down and take it all at once, because you love the sting that the sudden stretch brings. He imagines how you bounce on that fake cock, humping like a little bunny in heat and he groans through clenched teeth, wishing it was him instead.

Speeding up his movements, Miles hips were already bucking up to fuck into his fist, your moans and whimpers only egging him on more. Shit, he was close. It had been so long since he'd let himself have a satisfying release, but this would have to do. He would end up shooting his cum into his fist, instead of a wet little pussy that would actually satisfy his needs. Then he would clean himself and he would try to rest for at least a few more hours, until he had to get up for his squad’s morning workout. And he would look at you– if he would even look at you, no, he would most definitely ignore you just like any other day, acting like none of this has ever happened. Like he wasn’t daydreaming about fucking you stupid every second of the day.

This was how it was supposed to go. How it always went.

Just not today, though.

At first, Miles thought that his mind was playing tricks on him. That it was just his brain adding further stimulation to the imaginary scenario in his head, in favor of helping him cum. But then he heard it again.

A soft, high-pitched and keening whine of his name. His damn name.

"Miles– oh god Miles, fuck yes", you were moaning, chanting his name like a prayer. Like you were begging for him to come over and help you out.

Miles head perked at the sound, so audible even through the wall that separated your rooms. And then it was like his body moved without his brain telling him to. Pulling his boxers back up and rearranging himself, he made his way over to the room next door.

It took a whole five minutes after knocking that you finally opened. The door creaked open just a few inches, revealing your delicate frame to him. The room behind you was almost dark, the only source of light was coming from the dim hallway. Quaritch couldn’t hide the smug grin that formed on his face by the sight of you, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt that had the RDAs logo printed on it, your tail nervously swaying behind your back. And you weren’t wearing a bra, by the looks of it. What a delightful sight for his hungry eyes.

When you realize that it’s him, your eyebrows rise in surprise and you open the door just a little wider. "C-Colonel, Sir, what— it’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?"

Miles takes a step closer to you and your eyes widen. "Next time you need a hand, kid", he takes another step, "just ask me."

He steps closer and closer, until you’re left with no choice but to let him in. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks have turned into dark blush of purple, as you look at him. He then closes the door behind your back and with the way he’s standing, he’s basically towering over you.

"Heard you moaning my name like a little bitch in heat", he then tells you grinning and you swallow thickly, "was wondering when you’d finally ask for help."

With that, he spins you around, your hands flat against the cool metal door, before he positions himself behind you. You don’t resist when he kicks your legs apart and rides your shirt up, enough to expose your lower half to him.

"Hm, would you look at that", he hums, "No panties, huh?"

"I- I had to hurry to open the door, sir", you try to explain but the Colonel only chuckles. You feel his hands, caressing the back of your thighs and the curve of your bottom. He kneads the plump cheeks of you ass in his big hands, his head tilted enough to get a glimpse of your pussy when he spreads your cheeks. Your lips and inner thighs are covered in your arousal, glistening in the dim room and he can’t help but lick his lips at the sight.

"Ah right. And what were you doing before that?"

Miles pulls his boxer briefs down enough to free his hard length before he lines himself up, the head of his hard cock rubbing along your slit, coating himself in your slickness. He hears you gasp and your head hangs low between your arms, support yourself on the door. He gives you a minute to relish in the feeling of his cock sliding between your wet folds before he clicks his tongue, "Answer me when I’m talking to you."

You can’t help yourself. His words have your pussy clenching around nothing and you are so desperate to finally get what you’ve been wishing and praying for, you’re left with no choice but to respond to his teasing, "I‘m– I was… I was fingering myself." Your voice is barely above a whisper, but you know he’s heard you loud and clear.

"Just your fingers?", he scoffs, "Didn’t sound like it was just your fingers. Don’t lie to me, sweetheart."

His hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you closer so the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you hold your breath. He’s thick and warm and he pushes himself in so painfully slow, you can’t help but whimper. But then he retreats, pulling the very few inches he had granted you right back out. It was torture, all that just to make you talk.

"F-Fuck okay, okay! I was using… toys", you shamefully admit.

With those words he slams his hips forward, cock forcing itself deep inside you, the blunt head hitting your cervix in a way that has your legs quaking. And if you weren’t being pushed against the door, with his big hands supporting your weight by your hips, you would already be on the floor.  

"What kind of toys?", Miles asks you so nonchalantly, it’s beyond you how he can keep his voice so composed while he’s buried balls deep inside you. "Anything big, hm? Bigger than me?"

You can’t really see him from your current position, but you know he’s grinning– that shit eating grin, with the tip of his fangs showing.

You quickly shake your head, "N-No sir!"

"You know what? I believe you, cupcake. You’re still so fucking tight, there’s no way you were using anything bigger than me. I barely fit, jesus christ." Quaritch exhales a shaky breathe, his eyes fixed to where you were joined, how you hugged his length tightly and he knew just from the feeling of your wet walls sucking him in, that this couldn’t be a one time thing. You had him addicted already and while this wasn’t even done yet, he was already imagining all the positions he would bend you in next.

“Gonna fuck you now. Think you can take it?” He all but growls in your ear, the timbre of it making you clench around him and you nod, desperately wiggling your hips to get him to move. “Good fucking girl", he gruffs out the praise, hips starting to retract and snap back at a furious pace.

Quaritch fell into a steady pace, the swing of his hips becoming quick and rhythmic. The slap of skin on skin filled his ears, joined by the breathless panting and moans that escaped your lips, sounding more and more desperate with each passing second and every stroke of his cock.

The firm snap of his hips against yours made your eyes roll to the back of your head, while you were trembling on unsteady feet to keep yourself upright. The way he was fucking into you was everything but lovingly. Quaritch was using you, using you for his own pleasure and fucking hell– you loved every second of it.

Especially so, when one of his hands encircles your middle and drops low between your thighs to search for your clit. Once found, he lightly slaps the little bundle of nerves and you suck in a breathe between clenched teeth. He then proceeded to roll it between his rough thumb and index finger, drawing tight circles that have you moan and squirm underneath his touch.

"F-Fuck yes, right t-there oh my god", you cry out when he speeds up the movement of thrusts, combined with the flicks of skillful digits between your thighs. You both knew that neither of you would last long, not with the way you both unknowingly worked each other up.

Some sane part of your brain registers that there’s no way the rest of your squad, the recoms in the other rooms that were littered along the hallway, couldn’t hear what was going on. Strangely enough, that thought starts tightening the coil inside of you, making you clench around him harder.

"That’s it, cupcake, don’t hold back", Quaritch groans, "Let everyone here how good I’m making you feel, be as loud as you need to. Never had a problem with that anyways, am I right?"

He pounded into you then, the head of his cock rapidly hitting your g-spot in the process while he rubbed your clit in a matching pace. Your jaw dropped and your hand clenched into fists against the door, but oh, that wasn't all that was clenching. Your breathing turned needy and higher pitched, struggling to keep steady as he was driving you over the edge faster.

You feel a familiar tension crawl under your skin, a warmth spreading through your core and you can’t help but push yourself back against him. You wanted– no, you needed to cum.

"God, look at you fucking taking it", Miles groans, biting his bottom lip hard enough to keep himself from spilling just a few moments longer. He was already so close from his little jerk off session, it was on the verge of edging himself now. But he wanted to feel you fall apart, wanted to feel you come first. He wanted to use your orgasm, the pulsing rhythm of your thigh pussy clenching down on him to help him over the edge.

It's a buildup of tension that arches your back and curls your toes and just when you think you can't take it anymore, something snaps. "Oh fuck, I’m gonna come", is the only thing you manage to get out before your orgasm pulses throughout your body and you moan, loud and lewd. You should probably feel embarrassed for being so vocal in the middle of the night, but you couldn’t care less right now. It was too late to feel embarrassed now. Especially when the Colonel was fucking you through it so good.

"Shit, would you look at that. You look delicious enough to eat, so damn pretty when you cum around my cock."

You feel his pace change before you can even come down from your high. It’s not necessarily slower, but his thrusts become shorter, deeper and they knock you forward until you can barely hold yourself upright against that damn door.

Quaritch grunts, ears flat against his head, as he reaches his own limit with a hiss. He buries his cock deep inside your cunt, cursing as he pumps his release straight into you. It’s hot and sticky and feel every rope of his cum enter you, while the hands on your hips hold you firm, hard enough to bruise. You moan and quiver as you’re filled, his heat pouring into you, filling you to the absolute brim, before spilling over and bubbling onto the floor.

And finally, you can breathe again. You didn’t even realize you were holding your breathe until now. That first hit of oxygen to your brain was practically revitalizing, giving you enough clarity to process what the hell just happened.

"Can’t deny you’re a good fuck, cupcake", Quaritch tells you panting, pulling his cock out of you a little too fast for your liking. You cringe when you feel more of his cum seep out of you and the feeling of it smearing between your thighs leaves you feeling filthy. You push yourself off the door, your face flustered as you turn around and you avoid his gaze at all cost. Nervously, you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, pulling it down enough to hide your private parts from. As if he didn’t just get a front row seat to look at your pussy in all its glory…

Shit– what were you even thinking, letting this happen? Quaritch was basically your boss! And now your secret little crush on him wasn’t so secret anymore…. All that just because you couldn’t keep it down. But how were you supposed to know that he was able to hear you all this time? Fucking thank you for that Z-dog, you curse your next door neighbor. She could’ve at least said something, assuming that she must have heard you too then.

You just can’t bring yourself to look up at the man standing in front of you, too awkward now that you realized how much of a fool you’ve made out of yourself, moaning like a slut for the whole world to hear. It’s not until you hear Quaritch scoff that you take a quick glance at him. He looks entirely too good standing there in his boxer briefs and muscle shirt, board arms crossed over his chest, right where his dog tags dangle against his sweaty skin. Oh god…

He grins with his canine showing and tilts his head in amusement, when he sees you swallow thickly and adverting your gaze from his body to his eyes in a not so subtle way.

"If you’re so needy, at least come over and let me help you out", he then tells you with a chuckle and your eyes widen at his unexpected words, "Instead of keeping me up all night and forcing me to listen to you, fucking yourself with whatever toys you’ve got in that drawer. Got it?"

"Yes sir…"

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 5

word count: 2661

Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: nsfw, SMUT

Author's Note: Shorter chapter this time around! I just wanted to write smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) We are coming to the end lovelies!

<previous chapter> | 5 | <next chapter>

Snoring.

The sound slowly pulls you from your slumber. You open your eyes, blinking away the last dregs of sleep. You yawn as you stretch yourself out on your bed. Except, this doesn’t feel like a bed at all. You look up and see the sleeping face of your beloved, he has one arm behind is head, the other you feel on the small of your back. You’re lying on him, using him like a muscled mattress.

You smile to yourself. He is delectably warm.

You snuggle yourself deeper into his chest, gripping his shirt tighter. You feel his arm press you firmer into him, he mumbles something incomprehensible, then continue to snore.

Your mind wonders then to what had transpired earlier. Your stomach drops at the memory of your mother leaving the tent, unable to even look at you. The anxiety burns through you; leaves a gnawing void in the pit of your soul. The longer you lie there, the deeper it grows.

You hate feeling like this; you shouldn’t feel like this. You’re supposed to be happy. Happy to be back with your family, happy to be with the man bound to you by Eywa herself.

You want to forget. Forget everything that happened and just live in blissful ignorance, even just for a moment. Luckily, you know just the person to help you.

You gently turn yourself over, placing your legs on either side of Quaritch, nestling your crotch to his. You hear him take in a sharp breath at the sudden feeling of your heated sex to his, but still he sleeps. You move his hand and place it firmly to your rump. Even in his subconscious he desires you, and so despite being fast asleep, he can’t help but instinctively squeeze. You bite your lip and brace both hands on his broad chest.

You lean forward, purposefully griding yourself against him as you do, eliciting a sleepy moan from him. You start pressing chaste kisses to the soft flesh of his neck. You move from his throat and up to his jaw. You keep planting kisses along his jawline till you reach his mouth. You tilt your head and kiss him gently. You don’t move your lips, but you do again start to grind yourself against him. You can’t help but smirk when you feel his dick twitch against your sex.

Your heart flutters when you feel his lips press firmly against yours, returning the kiss. The velvet of his lips caresses you over and over again. He licks your bottom lip before gently sucking on the tender flesh. You part your lips and invite the intrusion of his tongue. He tastes every inch of your mouth before he tangles himself with you. It is intoxicating, this feeling, almost like drowning. You almost fight yourself when you need to come up for air.

You part yourself from him, but only an inch, your hot breathe mixes with his in the small space. Both of you are breathless, breathing heavily. You look those golden pools, the void of his pupils blown wide. His face is beautifully blanketed by a deep blush.

“Well…that’s one helluva way to wake up…I could get used to this,” he says with laboured breath and a loving smile. You feel the fast beat of his heart under your palms; reassuring and strong. But the tenderness of his expression falters, and it its wake comes concern. His eyes search yours then, a hand placed so tenderly to your temple, as if you would break so easily.

“Not that I’m complaining sweetheart, but…” You know what he wants to ask, but you are in no mood to talk of such things. All you want right now is too feel. You shake your head, stopping him mid-sentence.

“I do not wish to speak of it…Not right now. All I want, is to feel. To forget. Just for a little while…Please?” You grip tightly to the hand cradling you.

The look on your face shatters something deep within him; liquid warmth spreads forth, encapsulating his entire being. He becomes all too aware of his beating heart. And he comes to the conclusion that it only beats for you. He doesn’t deign you with an answer, and instead lets his actions speak for him.

He leans up and kisses you with all the passion from before. Both hands are on you, pulling you back to him. He isn’t gentle this time. His mouth dominates you, scorching you with his desire. You aren’t drowning; you are engulfed in flame.

With a swiftness you did not expect, he switches your positions. He has you caged within his arms, looming just above you. The fierceness of his gaze makes your heart skip, delicious anticipation tingling your every nerve. You may be a skilled hunter, but here trapped under him; you never felt more like prey.

He descends on you without warning; the two of you are a mash of teeth and saliva. He is devouring you. You whimper, unable to control yourself. Your mind thinks only of him. His mouth moves to your neck, sucking and licking at your flesh.

He pushes your legs apart and starts rubbing his hardened member against your clothed sex. The muted stimulation to your clit sends small jolts of pleasure through you, causing you to moan through parted lips. He pulls up your tank top, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He brings the bundled shirt to your mouth and tells you to bite down.

“Don’t want anyone else hearing those pretty sounds you make darling. Don’t exactly know how soundproof these things are.”

You nod and grip at the fabric with clenched teeth. You yourself aren’t sure either how reliably these walls will contain your moans.

His mouth is back to assaulting your neck, and you breath deep through your nose, trying your best to be quieter. His hand wastes no time in grabbing your breast, roughly kneading you.

“Hmmmmrph!” The shirt does little to muffle your moan at his ministrations. He moves his hand and rubs his thumb over your nipple, causing you to arch your back. He takes it between his forefinger and thumb, gently rolling your bud to a peak. You feel yourself slicken even further.

You press your feet firmly to the ground and tilt your pelvis upward so his clothed dick hits you just right. It only takes a few more hits to your clit for your orgasm to wash over you. The cord snaps and the wave of pleasure hits you from your swollen clit, spreading out and tingling every part of your being.

“That’s my girl, you’re doing so well baby,” he whispers into your ear when feels your body tense as you ride your orgasm.

You feel your pussy clench around nothing, groaning deep as he keeps rubbing against you.

He takes the shirt from your mouth, now drenched with your spit. Before you can even relax he grabs your mouth with his hand and forces your lips apart. He’s on you again, forcing his tongue inside. You yelp with surprise but don’t fight; all too eager to make out with him any chance you get.

He lifts himself up to gaze down at you, giving you one hard thrust into your core. The action causes you to bite you lip.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you? I’m only just getting started…”

---

Your mind is an addled mess; the ability to form a single coherent thought lessening with each orgasm he pulls from you.

You’re approaching your fifth, you think. He has you on your back, one arm wound behind you, his hand holds firm to your breast and he fondles you, deft fingers teasing your perked nipple. Each flick and pinch sends pleasurable bolts down your spine.

His mouth is to your ear, whispering the most delicious filth to you. He licks and nips between words, earning him a melody of whines and whimpers. Your leg closest to him is bent at the knee, trapped behind his own as he bends you open further; utterly at his mercy.

And his hand; that dextrous tool of your destruction. He has 3 long fingers deep in you, his palm pressed flat to your clit. Up and down he pumps, stimulating the soft spongy flesh within while your bundle of nerves is rubbed vigorously against his smooth skin.

He can’t believe how utterly drenched you are; he’s sure he could almost fit his entire hand in you right now. You’ve all but made a pool of irresistible nectar at your core. So lubricated are you, Quaritch wonders if outsiders can hear the filthy squelch of your pussy as he works his fingers into your sex. You are far from caring at this point, your mind is but focused on one thing; coming all over this man’s fingers.

You feel it building fast, that tight pressure somewhere deep beyond your cunt. Your walls start to clench as the pleasure builds, closer and closer you sprint to that edge. The pleasure is bordering on painful; you aren’t even sure if you can even withstand one more. Fat tears roll down your face, you whimper and moan; conflicted as you are pulled in opposite directions.

‘I—I can’t! Please! I—I don’t—' You try so very hard to get the words out, but what comes out of your mouth is simply unintelligible nonsense under breathless moans and whines. But he understands, Eywa bless this man. Unfortunately for you, he cares not for your protests; believing you are capable of just. One. More.

“Come on baby just one more, I know you got it in you. Just give me one more, that’s all I’m askin’ for sweetheart. You’re my good little girl aren’t you? You’ll do just as your mate asks; won’t you?”

You growl low in your throat, desperate to please him. You bite hard on your lip, the taste of blood dancing on your tongue. For him. You’ll do it for him; even if you go mad.

You feel his fingers quicken their pace, his palm brutally massaging your clit. He is unrelenting in his search for that final explosion of pleasure. Faster and faster the pleasure builds along with the pain. Your walls are swollen, pussy almost burning to the touch. It only takes a few more rubs against that soft flesh for you to orgasm; you cum the hardest this time.

You groan in pain and pleasure through gritted teeth, drool seeping from the corners of your mouth as you try not to scream out at the top of your lungs. But it is a losing battle. You go to open your mouth but he is on you, swallowing your screams with a bruising kiss.

The walls of your pussy clench around his fingers like a vice, massaging him as though to milk him for every last drop of his seed. But the high doesn’t stop. It builds more; until you feel ourself expel all over his hands, your legs. Quaritch quickly removes his fingers and starts slapping your hypersensitive clit, a victorious smirk spreads on his face as he watches you squirt all over yourself and him.

“There you go sweetheart…that’s it, that’s my good girl,” he kisses away your tears. All you can do is cry; the pleasure is far too overwhelming and all you want is a little reprieve.

Your head lulls to the side, mouth agape as you drool. You’re far too tired to even think. And so you just lie there; mind blank, the only thing your hyper aware of is the deep thrumming of your clit and pussy as it aches; utterly abused and throbbing.

Your mate’s heavy breathing behind you pulls your attention; ears perking up at the sound. Still flat on your back, you turn your head to him. Your walls clench at the sight of him. He has his cock in his hand, leisurely pumping himself with one hand, the tip already leaking precum.

It then dawns on you that through out this whole endeavour, he probably hasn’t come once. You feel guilty, and try to reach for him, but grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles instead. You whine in protest.

“Ssshhh, it’s alright baby. I won’t take long, trust me,” he winks at you, licking his lips and he squeezes himself harder.

But you’re having none of it; if he’s cumming, it’d better be deep inside you; painting your walls with his seed.

You take your hand from his, causing his pace to slow, confused by your retreat. With great effort you push yourself up onto your shoulders, and glare at him as best you can.

“You…if you don’t finish inside me…Then I swear by Eywa I’ll end you my damn self…Now get over here.” He immediately stops his hand, staring at you shocked. But it’s gone in an instead, and he huffs out a laugh and fixes you with half lidden eyes and a smirk.

“As my mate commands.”

You let yourself lay back down as he quickly moves over you. Once he’s between your legs you trap him there, locking your feet together.

“Hmm, serious are we?”

“Hurry up and fuck me Miles…”

“Ohhh I love it when you talk dirty, darling,” he steals your breath with a passionate kiss, one you’re all to happy to return. You move your queue between the two of you. He does the same when he sees your movement. When the bond links into place, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You’re filled with his aching need for you; overwhelmed by the desire to be fucked all over again.

“Fuck…” Is all he can groan out, resting his head to yours. He nearly cums then and there, feeling your body so tired and sore, yet still pleasure dances across your skin and deep at your centre.

He pushes himself into you with one hard thrust. He meets no resistance, the soft smooth flesh of your cunt sucks him in, accepting him in full splendour.

You sigh deep, only now realising that this was what missing; being completely full and stretched. He doesn’t let you catch your breath, immediately pounding into you with reckless abandon. It thrust brings him to the base, his cock stretching you to the limit, moulding your soft spongy walls around him.

You hands seek purchase on his back, nails digging into the flesh and you claw him; leaving bloody trails in their path. He growls then, followed by a guttural moan. The deep baritone of his voice makes your pussy clench.

“Fuck, [Y/N], just like that! My perfect mate, my perfect girl! You take me so well baby…You were made for taking this cock weren’t you?”

Renewed tears stream down your face as your mind becomes flooded with the pleasure of the bond. It only takes a few more powerful thrusts before Quaritch cums inside you with a low growl into your ear. The feeling him his hot seed being spilt inside you causes another orgasm to wrack your body. You are thankful it’s at least a lot gentler than the last.

Quaritch hums and kisses your neck when he feels your walls clench around him, the sound of your breath catching doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Aww, another one just for me? You’re too kind princess.” He plants a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he flops down beside you, completely spent.

With his remaining strength he pulls you to him. You cuddle yourself against his side, resting your head upon his chest, leg thrown over his mid. His hand comes to rest on your thigh, lazily drawing shapes onto your skin.

“I love you, Miles…thank you…”

“I love you too, [Y/N].” He kisses to top of your head.

The last thing you remember is wrapping your tail around his before sleep claims you once more.

---

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

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<previous chapter> | 5 | <next chapter>

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 4

word count: 8212

Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: slight violence, swearing, fluff, reunion, so much crying

Author's Note: Man. Partway through writing this, I realized it was gonna surpass 10k, so had to break it up into more parts lmao. No smut in this chapter folks, sorry! Next chapter I promise bb xo

<previous chapter> | 4 | <next chapter>

You could lay there forever, you think. Tightly pressed into your mate’s side, bonded. Body aching from love making. But such bliss cannot last, not while you’re still a prisoner.

Quaritch feels your unease through the bond. He knows you’re right. He looks to the holo-clock on his bedside. It’s the early hours of the morning, still have a few hours before sunrise. He starts rubbing slow soothing patterns on your back. You hum softly.

He thinks about what’s going to happen to you in the morning. The General said she wanted you ready in a few days, get you back in that machine. He has no doubt in his mind that she’d be willing to push you to the brink of death again. He’s grateful the machine broke when it did. He swears he heard Her voice when it did. Did She intervene? If so, he resolves to thank Her properly when he can.

First and foremost; he needs a plan to get you the fuck outta here. Now with his memories fully back in place, any allegiance he once had to this place, to the RDA, has gone straight out the window. He spent a lot of his afterlife in quiet contemplation. It was a painful thing, to come face to face with one’s own past. To truly delve into the things he did. The guilt, regret and sorrow was almost overwhelming. But he got through it. And after all the years he spent seeing you, then those months spent together intimately, you were the only thing he cared about now. Well, besides his son, but he cared for the boy in a different way.

Sweet Spider. He wondered if the kid would ever forgive him. No doubt everything that has happened to you will come to light. He wonders how much you’ll actually tell him. You feel his uncertainty through the bond.

“Miles?”

He sits up suddenly, a renewed sense of determination floods your senses coming straight from him.

“I gotta get you the fuck outta here.” You stare wide-eyed at him, but smile when you see the sternness of his expression as he looks to you.

“Wait here.” He orders, unlinking your queues. He rushes to dress himself in his black tank top and camo pants. He comes back to the bed and kisses you hard; leaving you breathless.

“I’ll be back.”

---

And so you wait.

Quietly you sit in that bed, in the dark. You decide it’d be best if you got dressed yourself. You rummage through his clothes till you find a large black t-shirt you like the smell of; his scent is heavily woven through the fabric. The shirt sits just above your hips; no doubt it would look comically big were it not for your proportions. Least it is somewhat loose. You’re thankful then, that his pants sit comfortably on you thanks to your wide hips.

You sit yourself back on the bed once satisfied with your attire. You’re anxious now, nervously playing with your loose hair. How were the two of you going to pull this off? Even if it was the early hours of morning, surely not everyone in the base was asleep? And what of Spider? Could the 3 of you really escape so easily?

You’re not sure how much time passes when the door suddenly opens, startling you. You’re taken aback by the sight before you.

In walks Quaritch, flanked by 3 other recoms, and pushing through their legs, is your beloved brother.

You gasp.

It feels far too long since you saw him.

“SPIDER!!!” You yell, unintentionally, but the joy and relief of seeing him alive and unharmed overwhelms you. Quaritch luckily had closed the door before your outburst.

“[Y/N]!!! You’re okay!” He yells and runs to you. You drop to you knees and grab him in your arms. He wraps his arms around your neck and hugs you tightly. You feel as though you could weep.

He pulls back, grabbing your face in his little lands, turning you side to side. His face contorted with worry. He’s inspecting you, as if to make sure you are real, are unharmed.

“What did they do to you? Did these assholes hurt you? Did…he hurt you?” You see Quaritch flinch in your peripheral. Of course. Spider doesn’t know he has all his memories back. And with that, he is fluent in Na’vi; something you spent months teaching him when the two of you weren’t in the throes of passion.

You place a kiss on Spider’s forehead.

“I’m okay now. I’ll explain everything once we’re safe and out of here. Unless…?” You trail off as you look to the others in the room. Two men and one woman.

“[Y/N], this is Lyle, Mansk, and ZDog.” He points to each one of them as he introduces them.

You greet them with the customary hand gesture. They do not reciprocate, and you do not begrudge them. They instead greet you in the human way, holding up a hand with a “hi” or a “hey”.

“Sooo…You’re the reason Colonel here’s about to go AWOL?” The bald one, Lyle, comments with a smirk.

“Wainfleet…” Quaritch growls out a warning. Lyle holds his hands up in defence.

“Hey I don’t mean nothing by it!”

ZDog and Mansk snicker at the two, you wonder if this is sort of exchange is an often occurrence. Quaritch sighs in annoyance, but he sees the slight worry in your eyes.

“You don’t gotta worry about these 3, darling. Their loyalty is to me, not the RDA. Ain’t that right ladies?”

“HOORAH!” The three of them yell with wide smiles. You breathe a sigh of relieve, hand on your heart. You get to your feet, keeping a firm hold of Spider’s hand in yours. You sure as shit weren’t letting him go again.

“So…What is the plan? Surely they wouldn’t let us just, walk out?” You ask.

“Actually…That’s precisely the plan.” You’re taken aback by this. That wasn’t really so much of a plan, as it was a complete gamble.

“I can see the gears turning in that pretty little head of yours, lemme explain.” You hear the quiet giggles of the 3 recoms, and see Lyle playfully jab his elbow into Quaritch’s side. Your mate scoffs and scowls at him, but doesn’t retaliate. He clears his throat and continues.

“I’ve left a message for the general when she eventually wakes up explaining our absence. Night Training we’ll call it. See, Spider here’s been teaching us some of your Na’vi way during the day. But your forest ain’t entirely asleep at night right? So I figured, we should be taught how to survive its dangers at night, should we ever find ourselves in such a situation. Said we’d be back by sunrise. ‘Course we ain’t plannin’ on returning. But by the time they catch on, it’d be far too late, and we’d be long gone.”

By Eywa this was such a gamble. An incredible risk. And what of transport? You’ve seen the base before, from the safety of the skies. Its size was nothing to scoff at.

“And what of transport? Are we to take one of the flying machines?” Quaritch smirks at your question.

“I got a much better idea.”

---

Dressed in full gear, the 5 recoms lead you and Spider through the base. It is far emptier than you would have expected, barely any humans awake at this hour. What few scientists you see look far too sleep deprived to even pay you any mind. You pass the room housing that awful machine and visibly recoil.

You feel Spider squeeze your hand tight, your nerves calming slightly. Your hands had been cuffed at your front, with Spider pulling you along. They had to keep up appearances, and you understood. Least the orange restraints weren’t secured too tightly like the first time.

When you pass a window you look into the room and see the machine’s interior exposed, a few humans fiddling with the contents.

‘Good that it’s fucking broken. Eywa curse that awful machine.’ You think bitterly.

---

When the cool night air first hits your face, you all but whimper. Quaritch turns to you and catches you with one hand under your arm as your knees buckle. Although there is a big smile on your face, eyes closed in bliss as you breath deep, he can’t stop the guilt that hits him. You’ve been without fresh air for so long, living off of their masks and gas canisters. Seems as though there was still more he needed to atone for with you.

You stand up straight and take one final deep breath before you look to him.

“I’m okay…I’m okay, promise.” You reassure him. He nods, and the group is on the move once more. He’s nervous, you can tell. There is a tension in his shoulders when he walks. You feel it radiating from the two at your side, and ZDog at your rear. But once again, you aren’t met with any resistance as they lead you to an open area off to the side.

You can’t help the shocked gasp when you see them.

Ikran! And four of them! Beautiful mountain ikran. Is this what they were up to when they said Spider was teaching them? You’re almost giddy with excitement. The prospect of escape growing with each passing moment. You push hard on the underlying feeling of resentment that curls deep within you; knowing that they all were enjoying with gifts of the Great Mother while you suffered deep within their base. You have to remind yourself your beloved wasn’t truly himself. You haven’t completely forgiven him; such things would take time. But getting you and Spider out of here was a nice start.

You half expected one of the human security personnel to question where you were all going at such a time, but once again, those that were patrolling, and there wasn’t a lot of them in the first place, paid you all no mind. Perhaps Quaritch and his team answered only then, to that woman; the Admiral. You shiver at the memory of her cold stare. Never had you been confronted by such indifference.

“Alright, [Y/N] with me. Spider, with Lyle.” You nod and he brings you closer to his ikran; a beautiful dark blue female with golden accents on her wings. He smiles proudly at you as he pets her neck. “This here is Cupcake.”

“Cupcake?”

“Cuz it was just so sweet of her to try and kill me,” he again smirks at you, and that raises more questions than it answers. But no matter, you’ll ask him to explain properly another time. He bond with Cupcake first, calming her and letting her understand just who you were to him. He helps you first up onto the saddle, you shuffle forward as he gets up and secures himself behind you. You grip the front of the saddle tightly. He pulls you back into his front, holding you tight with one arm around your waist. His other hand holds firm onto the reins beside your hands. With a kiss to the side of your temple, he commands his ikran to take flight.

And with that, the six of you take to the skies, uninhibited, and unbound, toward the forest.

---

Once you’re in the air and a bit away from the base, Quaritch undoes the bindings on your wrists, letting the cuffs fall to the forest. You immediately lift both hands into the air, giggling at the feeling of wind brush over your skin and through your hair.

You fly for a while, you think about 30 minutes from the base, when Quaritch calls for his squad to land in a nearby clearing. You’re impressed by his graceful landing. He hops off first, then holds a hand out to help you down, which you accept graciously.

As soon as your feet touch the ground, you hear the cry of an ikran coming in to land, and it is all to familiar. The recoms immediately have their guns drawn and pointed at the creature as it lands a few meters away. It is screaming, calls you recognise as threats. The other ikran clack their jaws together, not entirely rattled by the display. But you don’t care about that. You sprint towards him, and scream at the top of your lungs.

“PASKALIN!!!”

Quaritch calls for you, worried of course, but orders his team to stand down. The ikran bounds closer to meet you half way, its threatening yells exchanged for high pitched bellows. It places its head on your shoulder, tilting its head to bump yours, chuffing all the while.

“My sweet boy! I’m so happy you’re okay!” You gently rub under his chin and along his neck. Thank Eywa he is unharmed. Poor thing must have been waiting just outside the base all this time for you, then must have followed the moment he caught your scent leaving.

You guide him back to the group, smiling brighter than before.

“Everyone, this is Paskalin; my ikran.” You introduce him, and Spider bounds close without a second thought. Paskalin bends over to let the boy pet him.

“I thought I recognised you! Good choice not approaching this lot though.” He says to the ikran, and you give Spider a puzzled look. He notices your confusion.

“Saw him a few times when we went flying. Thought he looked familiar. Thought maybe he was following us ‘cuz one of them bonded with his mate or something.” He offers as an explanation. You feel a small twinge in your heart at the thought of your poor boy trying desperately to find you. He must have either recognised Spider, or perhaps even more saddening, your smell may have lingered on Quaritch. No matter. He is with you now.

You turn to the others, noticing then that they are in the process of removing all their gear. No vests. No comms. No guns. Leaving only their clothes. So they were really doing this. They were really going to follow you, Quaritch and Spider. Give up their lives with the RDA and embrace whatever Eywa would throw at them. They all start digging holes to bury their equipment.

“Hey…[Y/N]?” Spider pulls your attention. When you turn to look at him, you see his expression is one of contemplation, perhaps even confusion. There is a slight scowl to his brow.

“What’s wrong, Spider?”

He takes a moment to answer you, as if trying to think of how to broach the topic with you.

“Are…Did you and da—…Quaritch—did the two of you…” ‘Oh sweet Mother, he knows.’ Your ears pin back at the realisation of what he’s trying to ask you. He takes one big breath to calm himself.

“It’s just…I noticed the way he was holding you when we were flying, and the way he keeps looking at you too. It’s just how Jake looks at Neytiri.”

You press your lips together in a fine line. You’re not sure how to feel. Shame? Pride? Love? All of it washes over you. You have loved Quaritch before you even knew he was Spider’s father. That young silly crush of yours. And even when you learnt the truth, of him and his crimes, that did not deter you. And even when he seemingly vanished into thin air, your love for him did not waver.

“It is as it seems…We are mated.” Spider’s eyes widen with your confession. He is shocked. He then makes a face and sound of disgust.

“Does that make you my step-mom now?” the lilt of his voice is laced with teasing tones. You laugh suddenly, and playfully push him. He does the same.

“No way! You’re my brother first! But you have to admit—I’ve definitely been mothering you all since all of you could walk,” you are of course referring to all your younger siblings.

“Pssh, whatever!” he pulls your tail and laughs at your shocked expression. You hiss playfully and he hisses back, running when you start chasing him.

Quaritch watches the two of you giggle like a bunch of children, chasing each other and carrying on. He smiles to himself at the sight. A delicate warmth spreads from his chest and envelops him. He feels grateful to have the two of you in his life.

‘You watchin’ Paz? I’m gonna take good care of that boy. Do right by him, just like I promised. And I won’t be alone neither.’

---

Once everyone is finished burying the last of their gear, you all gather around one another.

“Ok sir, what’s the plan? Where we goin’?” Lyle asks Quaritch.

“Well, that depends on dear [Y/N].” He turns to you, “where we goin’ sweetheart? You know this forest better than any of us.”

You contemplate for a moment. Your first thought is to go back to High Camp. You miss your family something fierce, and it is the safest place you can think of right now. But you are afraid. What if the RDA had a way to track your movements? If they did, you’d be leading them straight to your clan, your family. Thus putting everyone in danger. Quaritch sees the worry adorning your face. He cups the side of your face, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You don’t gotta worry, sweetness. They won’t be able to track us. We ain’t takin’ a damn thing with us they can track. No guns. No coms. Nothing. Even took off the gear they made for the banshees,” he gestures behind him and look to see all their ikrans are bare back now.

You look back to him, and stare up into his golden eyes. They shine so beautifully in the moonlight. You become lost then, as you intently study the specs of light framing his face; committing each one to memory. Gently he rubs his thumb across your cheek, the gently motion soothing you. The two of you become lost in each other’s gaze, to the point of forgetting you weren’t alone.

“Soooo…where’re we going?” Spider speaks, again a hint of teasing in his voice, and the spell is broken. Quaritch seems unbothered though, seemingly not embarrassed to show you affection in front of others; let alone his son and squad.

“Well, darlin’?” you smiles oh so sweetly down at you, and you melt all over again.

“We go home.”

---

When you had said home though, you meant instead, the Tree of Souls. Although you trusted Quaritch with your very life, now that he remembered who he was, you still had reservations about the other 3. You do remember his squad being sizably bigger than this, and wondered where the rest of his team was. Would they follow you all? Did they themselves have ikran? But before taking flight he explained; this really was all that was left.

When he had first captured you and Spider, he lost a few to your family. Then after your capture, the attacks from Sully had increased tenfold. It was during these attacks that he began losing teammates, and slowly, he was left only with his 3 most loyal and trusted.

The attacks had become more frequent, ruthless, and bloodthirsty. And each time, a message was left in blood ‘GIVE HER BACK’. You cried openly at that. Your family had been fighting all this time to get you back. You felt a little saddened that it perhaps didn’t say ‘them’, to include Spider, but you didn’t fault your father. You couldn’t even fathom how he and mother must be feeling. Knowing where you were, but not be able to reach you. To them, you were caught in the arms of their greatest enemy. And that remained true, though in a completely different context now.

‘Oh great Eywa, how am I even going to explain this to them?’ A renewed sense of worry takes over you.

“[Y/N], you okay?” Spider asks you. He’s in front of you, riding with you on your ikran. You nod and force a smile. Everything will be fine. It had to be.

---

You laugh cry when you see the Tree of Souls. There was a time down in that prison where you truly believed you would die; locked away from all that you loved and held dear.

When you come in for a landing, it is barely sunrise. The few people that are there making early morning prayers to Eywa hastily move out the way. The sight of unfamiliar ikrans causing the nearby warriors to draw their bows on you all.

But then they see you and Spider.

“[Y/N]…? Is that you??” One of them calls out, he moves his bow to instead aim at one of the unfamiliar Na’vi.

“Ka'ani!” You smile big and wide at the warrior; a friend of the family, one of the people who had completed their iknimaya alongside your father.

“Who are these Dreamwalkers?”

“Peace, Ka’ni. They helped me escaped.” You move to stand in front his line of fire. A tense moment follows. He studies their faces, their body language. Alert but non-threatening. He verbally signals the surrounding warriors and they all lower their weapons. You breathe a sigh of relief and run toward the hunter, greeting him traditionally. He returns the gesture.

“You’re family has been rife with worry. They will be relieved to know you are unharmed.” He says and puts a hand to your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“[Y/N]…?” You look up toward the tree and see your Grandmother making her way from the trunk and down its roots. You don’t even yell, just run at her, tears streaming down your face. You try to say the greeting, but all that comes out is a warbled mess of a cry. She holds you tight in arms, swaying back on forth, giving thanks to Eywa over and over again for your safe return.

“[Y/N]!!! SPIDER!!!” You look behind Mo’at and see Kiri racing toward you. She must have been up early with Mo’at for Tsahik training.

“KIRIIIII!!!” She all but tackles you and Mo’at, the older woman letting out a ‘Oof’ as she braced herself from the impact. Spider comes bounding up and Kiri grabs him and pulls him onto the fold.

Kiri moves from you, all smiles and teary eyed.

“I’m so glad you’re safe sister. Did those guys bring you here?” She looks behind you to the group standing awkwardly with the ikrans. Her expression falls almost immediately, blood running cold. Recognition adorns her face. She looks up at you, then back to them, a quickness to her breath.

“That’s…that’s…” she can’t get the words out.

“There’s…a lot to explain, Kiri. Can…can you get mom and dad? I… I don’t want to bring them to High Camp. Not just yet.” You turn to gaze at the others, your eyes fix onto Quaritch as he meets yours. He gives you the faintest of smiles, and you smile back. He breaks eye contact to address the others. They are too far for you to hear what they are saying; drowned out by the whispers of your clanmates in the vicinity.

Kiri is staring at you. Shock and fear all over her face. She doesn’t catch to whom you smile.

“[Y/N]…don’t tell me…”

You turn to her again, and smile sadly. You know full well that this revelation will disappoint your parents. Kiri doesn’t say anything else; your expression was answer enough. She rushes down to her ikran, and takes off for High Camp.

You watch her go with a heavy heart, anxiety building up all over again.

You hear Mo’at behind you, praying to Eywa for guidance, and to keep you safe.

---

When you see the familiar ikrans of your parents and siblings land, you waste no time and rush to meet them. They even brought little Tuk.

“[Y/N]!” Your mother is the first on you, hugging you tightly to her, holding your face in her hands, checking all over you, making sure you are unharmed. All the while she weeps, he tears breaking the painted patterns on her face. When you see your father you pull him in with one arm and hold both of them so close and so tight, the strain in your arms almost burning.

You see little Tuk running at you as she calls for you. You release your parents and bend down to pick her up. She cries in your arms. You hush her with gentle words, rubbing her back and whisper comforting words, just as you have always done when she cried.

You look behind your parents to see your two brothers standing their trying to act cool and nonchalant.

“Come here you idiots.” You say with tears still streaming down your face but with a smile. That is all the invitation they need and they run you, unceremoniously pushing your parents aside to get to you and hug you tightly. Your folks merely laugh at their antics.

“How’d you escape, kid? Did those guys bring you here?” Your father looks up from you to the group they had ignored, so focused were they on seeing you when they landed. You tense at his question, and carefully hand Tuk back to mother. When you turn to your father you see his expression is anything but pleasant. He’s downright scowling. There is murder in those eyes.

“Is that fucking Quaritch…?” His voice is low and threatening. You swallow your fear. Slowly you move from your family toward the recoms, keeping your gaze on your family. When your mother turns to them, she clutches Tuk closer to her, turning her away from them, letting out a threating and scared hiss.

“Demon!” she spits venomously.

“Hey there Mrs. Sully. Jake. Fancy seeing you here,” Quaritch says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. You inwardly cringe, now was not the time for bravado.

Tentatively you place a hand on his chest, and in a low voice whisper, “peace, my love. Play nice.” He looks to you and nods. He moves to place a hand to your face.

“DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING TOUCH HER!” You here your father yell at the top of his lungs. Before you can even turn, you feel Quaritch grab you with both hands and throw you to the side. Caught of guard, you barely catch yourself with a roll. When you look up, you see your father and mate in a fight. The ikrans, startled, fly up and out of the way, perching themselves elsewhere. All the while they cawing loudly at the sudden excitement.

You watch in horror as the two men fight. Hand to hand, bloody fists flying. You notice though, it is only your father throwing punches. Quaritch dodges what he can, but keeps his arms up to block. Never does he retaliate. It sometimes almost looks like he lets himself get hit.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD! WHAT DID YOU PEOPLE DO TO HER, HUH?!” When father yells that, you see the falter in Quaritch’s step. He pauses, and lowers his arms. There is a guilty look on his face, his stance almost one of defeat. Jake sees, and doesn’t care. He goes for him then, blade drawn. Immediately you’re on your feet, racing toward them.  Just before your father can bring his blade down into Quaritch’s chest, your on his back, and pull with all your might, bringing him down with you. When you’re on your back, you push as hard as you can, forcing your father to tumble away from you.

He jumps to his feet immediately in fighting a stance, blade drawn.

You stand protectively in front of Quaritch, crouching defensively and hiss at your father. He’s completely taken aback by that, and looks at you confused.

“[Y/N]…?”

You don’t say anything, but stand up and open your arms wide.

“Don’t hurt him! He’s the only reason I’m even here right now!” You hear an angry growl come from your mother.

“He’s the reason you were taken in the first place!” She hisses, and you see she’s drawn her bow, aiming it straight at Quaritch. The rest of your siblings are behind her. You see Tuk cowering behind Kiri’s legs.

You turn then to stand to block her arrow, holding your arms out as far as you can, and you meet your mother’s stare. But she’s not looking at you. Her eyes are fixed solely on the man behind you. You can’t see, but you wonder where he’s looking. Her eyes fall to you, then back to him. You can see her shaking slightly, her face scrunched, conflicted.

“Daughter. Lower your bow…” You hear Mo’at approaching. She stands beside her daughter, her back to you.

“Mother…?” Neytiri is confused. Surely she understands who this Demon is. Slowly she lowers her bow, still gripping it tightly, arrow still knocked and ready.

“That…is your daughter’s mate…”

When she hears that, your mother let’s out the most blood curdling scream you have ever heard. She doesn’t think, only acts on instinct. She lifts her bow, pulls back and fires an arrow aimed straight at his head.

“NO!!!” you screamed as she let the arrow loose.

A powerful wind suddenly sweeps through the area. The force of it enough push you and everyone else to their knees. The coldness bites at your skin to the point it burns. The sting causing your eyes to water, so you squeeze them shut. The force is unrelentingly, assaulting from every direction, causing your hair to wildly thrash around you. You don’t expect it to be so loud either, moving your hands to cover your ears. Barely can you hear the confused cries of everyone around you, all in fear. You faintly hear the sounds of the ikrans above you; all scared caws and bellows.

You try with every ounce of strength you can muster to open your eyes, and are only able to open them but a fraction.

You are surprised then, to see someone standing in front of you, though you can barely make out her profile. When you look up, you see she is staring down at you.

Her skin is so light, it is almost shimmering. The dark gold of her hair remains still, even in this windy assault. You can’t see her eyes. And when you blink, she’s changed. Skin darker than night, but in the early morning sunlight, it is almost iridescent. You think you can see tiny swashes of rainbow dance across her skin. Her hair, still unmoving, is now brilliant white, like the stars in the sky. It is only then that you notice she has one arm raised, and in her hand she holds your mother’s arrow. When you blink again however, she is gone, taking the wind with her. The arrow falls before you, broken at the shaft.

Slowly you move your hands from your ears, wiping the tears from your eyes. You hear the groans and scared cries of the people around you.

“[Y/N]! You alright?!” Immediately Quaritch has his hands on you, turning you to face him. He searches your face, and once he’s satisfied, he pulls you to him in a tight embrace. He sighs in relief into your hair.

Neytiri can only sit and stare. She has no words for the sight before her. And she weeps. Weeps at her daughter in the arms of her sworn enemy. Weeps at the shadow she saw in the wind. She is no fool. She understood, and she weeps; for although she will never question the Will of the Great Mother, she cannot stop herself from feeling great sadness.

---

Awkward.

It is so unbearably awkward.

After what happened at the Spirit Tree, Mo’at insisted all of you, the recoms included, return to High Camp. Eywa has made her stance on the matter quite clear.

So here you sit, in your family’s tent, Quaritch at your side. Your parents sit across from you, staring daggers at the man. Your father has his arms crossed. Their gaze flitters from him to you. You to him. Your eyes are cast downward, unable to meet theirs. You fiddle with the hem of the shirt you’re wearing as you sit on your knees.

The rest of Quaritch’s squad was sent to where actual Avatars were kept, told they weren’t allowed to leave the barracks, and if they did, they’d be shot on sight.

Your siblings where given strict instructions to not disturb any of you until this, meeting, was complete.

“Explain.” That is the only word you father says. Only thing he needs to say. You open your mouth to speak, but father cuts you off. “He can speak for himself.”

Like you, Quaritch is sitting on his knees. He feels humiliated, being forced into this submissive pose. He remembers clearly how he was Jake’s superior. But he has to remind himself, he is on Jake’s territory now. And Jake is quite literally the Leader.

“What’dya wanna know, Sully?”

“Start from the very beginning. How the fuck are you back, for a start. Pretty sure that’s your arrow riddled corpse down there on the old battlefield.”

You see Quaritch’s tail flinch at that. You consciously bring your tail and wind it around his, calming him. Your mother sees this, and you hear her curse under hear breath at him, calling him all manner of profanities. You don’t untangle your tails.

You listen intently as Quaritch explains then. How he and his squad were subject to having copies of all their memories up to a certain point made. How they had to record videos for their resurrected selves, to explain the situation. He didn’t go into detail about what he recorded.

He explained how he remembered Spider’s birth and his mother. You tighten your tail around his as a tightness in your chest forms. This was before your time, yet you can’t help the coil of jealously in your gut. This was your mate. It is you who should have given him children first.

He talks about how he remembers the assault on home tree, the death of Spider’s mother. But that’s where his memory ends. He has no recollection of his own death.

“That’s how it was…until I got my memories back. All of them.” He looks to you as he says that, his expression soft and loving.

“What do you mean?” Father asks, confusion on his face.

“Eywa.”

Your mother makes an angry growl at that.

“You do not speak her name! You have no right!” She spits at him, pointing at him accusingly.

“Wait a minute now Mrs. Sully, I’m only here because of Her, alright?”

“Are you saying, this, is Her fault?” She points between the two of you.

“Well kind of, I mean, but not really—well?” Quaritch is struggling for the right words. He doesn’t want to outwardly blame Eywa, but she didn’t exactly stop either of you.

“Mother, let me explain.” You try and use your most diplomatic voice, soft and gentle. She looks to you, hurt evident in her eyes. But she sits back and lets you speak.

---

You start from your beginning. The Dreams. How, as a child, you met a human man, not the friendliest of sorts, but happily indulged you when you asked about humanity and their Home. How he took every opportunity to brag about his people and their accomplishments. How over time you came to learn he was a dead soul, kept by Eywa, and he knew it too. There came a time, years on when you were much older, that when he gave you his real name, (you had been addressing him by title only), you knew who he was.

The two of you never spoke about it, but you know who he was then. And when you gave him your full name, the implications of who you were became known. For reasons you cannot explain, you kept approaching him in your Dreams, after all the years you two had a sort of friendship.

You then spoke of how you couldn’t stop yourself, but you developed a crush on this older man. He didn’t treat you like a freak, not like the boys in the clan. Sure he may have treated you like a bit of a nuisance as a kid, but warmed up to you as time passed, especially when it was clear you weren’t going away.

“And so um…You remember, a few years ago, when I had…all those…marks?”

You watch with baited breath as realisation dawns on both your parents features. A strangled cry leaves your mother and she lunges for Quaritch. Jake grabs her around the waist, holding her steadfast to him. She fights to free herself from him, but she has little fight in her. She isn’t crying, but she is yelling and screaming at Quaritch, calling him all manner of vile filth she can muster in English. Your father whispers in her ear, trying to calm her, holding her head to his chest. She relents eventually, an almost cry escapes her lips as she buries her head into his neck, holding him close.

You lips quiver as you struggle not to cry. You have never felt such shame in your life. You start to question every choice you have ever made. Before you can fall into a descent of self-loathing, you feel a hand slide into yours, entwining your fingers. You look up to your mate, tears threatening in the corner of your eyes.

The look he gives you washes away any doubt. Spider was right. He looks at you just like father looks at mother; like you yourself hung the stars in the sky. Reverence.

“I don’t understand though…You were dead. How were you able to, interact?” You father has a confused and disgusted look on his face.

“We figured that, whatever happened to my soul in the shared Dreamscape, must get reflected onto my body in the real world.”

Father nods, not questioning further, he didn’t want the details.

“Colonel…You know that’s incredibly fucked up right?” Jake directs his ire to Quaritch. The man has no response. He knows what he did was wrong. He lowers his head in shame.

“I’m sor—”

“DON’T YOU DARE APOLOGISE!”

Everyone jumps at your sudden outburst. You gaze is fixed solely on your mate, hurt and anger in your eyes. You turn to him, grabbing both his hands firmly in yours.

“Don’t you dare say those words, you here me? I’m not sorry it happened. I was not some ignorant child. I knew what I was doing was wrong. And I knew better, I simply didn’t care! You made me happy. Really happy! Happier than I had been in, months, years even. And I was already falling hopelessly in love with you. And Eywa be damned, I would do it all over again.” You place a soft kiss to his knuckles. You see his lips press into a thin line as he tries to hold himself back, ears pressed back. He breaks eye contact, looking down at your joint hands instead. You understand the things he cannot say in front of your parents, and gently squeeze his hands. You feel him squeeze back.

“Ma Jake, I—I can’t,” You mother says and abruptly gets to her feet and hastily leaves. He calls for her, but she doesn’t come back. It breaks your heart, but you swallow the lump in your throat. You’ll cry it out later.

“Dad, it’s okay…It’s a lot for her to take in…” He sighs heavily.

“You can say that again…I remember though. Your attitude changed. Seemed like you had a falling out with the person we thought you were seeing.”

“Ah well, he kinda disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” He looks to Quaritch, confused. Said man clears his throat.

“Like I said before. Eywa. She came to me. Said She needed me for a purpose, but was gonna put me to sleep. Said when I wake up, it’d be in a new body. Thing is, none of us that made these backups, even knew we were gonna get resurrected in Na’vi bodies. But She did. Said, the memories would never be enough. The bodies wouldn’t work. Think She said something like, ‘These Na’vi bodies will exist because I allow it. And they will end, because I demand it.’ Then She knocked me out before I could ask more.”

You father nods and huffs, taking it all in. He’s quite for time, contemplating, thinking.

“So, you’re really Quaritch then? Not some, fake with memories?”

“In the flesh.”

“I’ll say.” You slap a hand to your mouth, unexpectedly chiming in with a flirt. You father frowns at you and you look elsewhere.

“Fuck man…FUCK.” Your father rubs the back of his head in frustration. “This is serious bullshit!” He gets up and starts pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. Eventually he stops, a deep aggravated sigh leaving him.

“Look…I’ll talk to your mother. Try and calm her down. I can’t promise you guys anything. Quite frankly I’d have been happier just killing YOU,” he points at Quaritch, “but if Eywa wants you alive then so be it. I can’t guarantee the rest of the clan is going to be keen on the idea of you staying, and I’m not about to risk unrest to make you comfortable.”

“I understand…”

Quicker than you’re able register, your father has a blade pressed to Quaritch’s neck. You gasp but make no move to stop him this time.

“If you hurt her...There is no place on this planet, no place that the Great Mother can protect you. I will find you. And I will kill you.”

“I’d sooner die than hurt her.”

“Good. Then we finally agree on something.”

You father pulls back and holsters his blade.

“Get out of here. I had the kids set up a tent for you to use.”  He dismisses Quaritch with a wave of his hand. Suddenly Spider is there, and you wonder if the entire little entourage had been eavesdropping this whole time. “Spider show him where his tent is.”

“Yes sir.”

Quaritch gets up and follows without another word. You get up to follow but your father stops you.

“Wait, [Y/N]. I want to speak with you in private.”

Quaritch gives you one forlorn look over his shoulder before he exists the tent.

---

You stand in silence as you wait for father to address you. He doesn’t, and instead, grabs you and pulls you into his arms. He holds you tight, pressing your head into his shoulder. You bring your arms up around him without a second thought.

“I’m so glad you’re safe, baby girl…I—we really got worried there. Thought we weren’t gonna see you again…”

You pull back and wipe a stray tear from your eye.

“Heard you turned up the heat.” He lets out a laugh like huff at that.

“Yeah, I may have gotten a little over zealous…But I’m glad you’re back, safe and sound.” He kisses your head and hugs you tightly again. “I love you, [Y/N].”

“Love you too, Dad.”

There is a beat of silence that passes between you two, just holding each other tight. You’re reminded then, of how this was the safest place to you as a child.

“Is…is this what you really want? Does he really make you happy?”

“Yeah Dad…he really does.” You say, not a hint of shame in your voice. You father sighs in defeat again. Poor man’s been doing that a lot lately.

“Alright… I sure as shit don’t like it, in fact I’m pretty sure I hate it. But, I wonder if this is what Neytiri’s parents felt like when she chose me, kinda. Well, not really the same, cuz ya know, it wasn’t directly me that blew up—”

“Dad please. You’re rambling.”

“Right, right, sorry. Just…Give your mother and grandmother time, yea? It’s gonna take a lot more time for them to come around to this idea. Hell, I’m not sure I’m entirely on board here. So please, please, be patient with them. With us.”

“Of course father. Without question. Thank you,” you hug him tightly one more time before you make your exist. You want nothing more than to fall into your mate’s arms.

When you exist the tent, you aren’t the least bit surprised to find your younger siblings scrambling to their feet. Of course they heard everything. Awkwardly they stand around, avoiding your piercing gaze. Well, everyone except Tuk. She runs to you and demands to be picked up. You do so without question, hugging her tightly.

“I’m pretty sure we were all taught how rude it is to eavesdrop,”

“It was Lo’ak’s idea!” Tuk tattles without a second thought.

“Tuk?!” He yells at her. She merely sticks a tongue out him. You simply laugh at their antics. Neteyam clears his throat and moves to take Tuk from you. She moves without a fight.

“So…Spider’s dad? Really?” Lo’ak speaks up and you cringe at the phrasing.

“Yep,” you say with a load pop to the ‘p’. You look to Kiri and see the angry and confused look to her face. Understandable, you think, knowing that he’s the reason her mother isn’t around.

“Kiri—” she holds a hand to you, stopping you from continuing.

“Don’t [Y/N], just—don’t. I don’t know how to feel about, any of this…But I felt her, Eywa, when we were down at the Spirit Tree. She saved him. For reasons I will never truly understand. So…Urgh. I don’t know. I’m happy for you, I guess?” There’s expiration in her voice. You know she’s trying her best to be supportive. Finding ones mate was always supposed to be a beautiful thing. You give her the best smile you can muster under the circumstances.

“Thank you, Kiri…” She gives you a curt nod, then takes Tuk from Neteyam.

“I’m gonna go help grandmother, I’ll talk to you later,” and with that she makes a hasty exit.

Lo’ak pats you on the back, sensing your sadness.

“It’ll be alright sis. She’ll come around.” You smile appreciatively at his words.

“Heh…aren’t you guys, disgusted in me too?” Lo’ak merely shrugs at you.

“It’s nice to know I’m not the only screw up around here.”

“Oi!” You punch his arm playfully, he hisses at the pain but laughs all the same, rubbing the tender spot.

“Regardless…” Neteyam breaks his silence. “Just, be careful [Y/N]. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” You regard him with a solemn smile.

“Bit late for that I’m afraid,” Your two brothers share a look but don’t press you for answers. “Anyway, can you show me where his tent is set up?” Lo’ak gestures you to follow him, and Neteyam goes off on his own, having other tasks to do.

---

When you enter his living space, you're surprised to see Spider still there. They both look up when they sense your presence.

“We’ll finish this later, son.” Quaritch says and gently pets Spider on his shoulder. The boy smiles at him and goes to leave, not before hugging you. Once he's left, you go about closing off the tent, ensuring the two of you have the utmost privacy, all the while Quaritch watches you silently.

Satisfied all is secure and there should be no interruptions, you walk straight over to where he is sitting. You drop yourself into his lap, legs wrapping tightly around his mid. You press yourself as hard as you can to him, as if he could swallow you whole into his very being. Head pressed into the bottom of his throat, your arms go around his neck, gripping tightly at his hair. It hurts but he doesn’t mind, doesn’t voice a single complaint.

Strong arms wrap around you, warm, secure, and tightly. You cry then; you’ve been doing that a lot lately. But you don’t care right now. You break down in your mates arms.

Every fear, regret, guilt, and sadness pouring from you all at once.

The meeting with your parents perhaps didn’t go as disastrously as it could have; no one died at least. But you wish it could have gone better. You feel terrible for what your mother must be going through. She must feel like the whole world is against her.

To bring her worst enemy, the very man that caused the death of her father, and then to have said man be mated with you? The thought causes you cry even harder. It is an ugly cry, nothing but tears and snot.

Quaritch doesn’t give a damn though. He rocks you back and forth in his arms, one hand goes to the back of your head, the other starts rubbing up and down your spine in a soothing motion. He starts humming then, a song you don’t recognise. The low vibrations of his voice gently bringing your crying to but a whimper.

“It's alright baby, I got you. You’re safe with me.” He whispers in your ear, and suddenly exhaustion sits heavily on your shoulders. You feel so drained from everything that’s happened. You close your eyes and let sleep take you, lulled by his continued humming.

---

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @lvangel98, @rsclopez, @onlyreadz @manymaria111, @kristeen31xxx @mechformers @olivia-the-weirdo @essenceinpink @villirios @rededfoxy @brutecuteness

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Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who's been following this story! If I missed you in the tags please let me know! I think there might only be 1 or 2 more parts left to this short story! Hahaha this was initially started with the intention of being a oneshot; with the excuse to write smut. Yet here we are on part freaking 4.

MFW I thought this was a oneshot:

LMAO SUPRISED MYSELF--! Anyway big thank you to everyone who enjoys it so far! Will get back to my main fic once I wrap this baby up xoxo Also thank you again for the likes, comments and retweets! Any engagement really motivates me to write more! <3

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<previous chapter> | 4 | <next chapter>

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 3

word count: 7589

Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: nsfw, fluff, comfort, bonding, good feels

Author's Notes: Aye yo this took forever omg, my apologies for the wait! 7.5k words later! Hope it's to your liking everyone! The softness! Some niceness for Reader TwT Apologies for grammatical errors.

<previous chapter> | 3 | <next chapter>

It’s him.

It has to be him.

You see it in the way he stands, the swag of his stride. But it is most apparent in the way he tastes. This Demon, though he tastes of something wild and foreboding, there is still this underlying taste that is so wholly Quaritch. And you hate him for it. Hate him for everything he is, for everything he isn’t, and for everything he should be.

You cannot even begin to fathom his creation, dare not even ask him. How does he live without being piloted at the behest of his human body? Whatever the reason, it does not matter, at least not in the present.

You are grateful that the visits to the machine have stopped, at least for now. A small reprieve. The Demon’s visits however haven’t lessened in the slightest. He visits you nightly, you think, and based on that alone, you surmise your stay thus far has lasted 2 weeks, perhaps just short of it.

You stopped resisting after that first night. The threat of losing your kuru alone was enough to instill obedience within you. He leaves as soon as he’s done; you resign yourself to deal with him as he sees fit, anything to get him away from you as soon as possible.

Every look, every lingering gaze, every word of filth that drips from his mouth; a painful reminder of your human. Your prayers to Eywa go unanswered; without tsaheylu, you are far from her reach.

---

He hates it.

He fucking hated it; to not be in control of one’s faculties. There was a pull, a tug, a thread made taught. And always did it come back to you. He cannot explain it. Your notable sudden obedience is welcome, but it does not stop the guilt that floods him to the core.

He knows what he’s done to you, continues to do to you, is wrong. And yet he continues to seek you out. There is something indescribable he finds, some intangible force that beckons him; it’s as if this cursed planet itself commands it.

He wonders how long this’ll last though. General Ardmore is growing impatient. His squad has yet to produce any results. And somehow, beyond all possible reason, you have remained stalwart against the machine. He admires it at least, such loyalty, such unfettered willpower.

Perhaps he should consider a gentle approach with you, he thinks. It seems to be working with Spider. The kid has become noticeably more friendly with him and his team, and he wonders if he can convince you both to show the squad how to get one of those dragons.

“Colonel.” Quaritch is pulled from his thoughts and turns to regard the Admiral as she approaches.

“It’s time. Bring the prisoner in, put her back in the machine. She’s had enough of a break. This time, we’re going all the way.”

“All the way? Won’t that kill her?”

“Some sacrifices are worth it Quaritch; especially if we get the information we need. Sorry to cut your, leisure time, short.” She leaves without saying another word.

His tail flicks in annoyance, ears pin to the side of his head. There it is again, that ghostly feeling, the unseen guiding hand beckoning him. A whisper of a warning. He needs to make sure those science pukes don’t hurt you.

---

When you hear the familiar swoosh of the door opening, you sit at attention on your knees, ready and expecting Quaritch.

When he strides through the door, you shuffle to get comfortable. But the look he gives you stirs something uncomfortable inside you.

“Let’s go sweetheart,” the tone of his voice is unsettling and despondent.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

“P—please…Not that…anything but that…” You beg him, eyes watering at the memory of pain. You aren’t sure you’re resolve is strong enough this time. He gently but firmly grabs you around your upper arm, pulling you to your feet.

Immediately you struggle, try to pull yourself back, but it is of little use. He’s just so much stronger than you. As he pulls you along down the winding halls, you start to cry uncontrollably. You claw at his arm, begging in a blend of Na’vi and English.

He calls for Wainfleet and Mansk to help secure you in. He leans in and whispers, “I’m sorry,”.

You don’t believe him.

---

It feels like fire dances upon your mind. The swift cut of a knife. To tear muscle from bone. The restraints cut into your skin with how strong you struggle against them, thin beads of blood trickle along their edges.

You scream with all your might, throat raw, vocals threatening to tear.

The memories they pull do not make sense; an amalgamation of colours with no discernible imagery.

Quaritch can feel annoyance radiating off the Admiral standing next to him, arms crossed and tapping her fingers. She seems completely unbothered by your cries.

“Give us what we want. Which clans are harbouring Jake Sully?” She asks you, but you make no response.

“What the hell is happening? Why can’t we pull anything clear?” She demands angrily.

“I don’t know mam! The readings aren’t making any sense!” One of the scientists is in a panic, in fact, Quaritch notices they all are. Running around, fidgeting with control panels left and right.

You start bleeding freely from your nose. Your eyes are squeezed shut in painful suffering, tears streaming down your face. It takes all his will power to not push through everyone and wretch you free.

But he’s gotta stop it. He’s gotta do something. He can’t let this crazy bitch kill you. They’d find another way. There has to be another way to get to Sully. And maybe, just maybe, killing his kid was not the best way to go about it.

Spider is definitely not going to forgive him for this. He’s not even sure why he even cares so much about the opinion of one savage raised wildling. After all Spider’s not his son; he’s Quaritch’s son. All he has is that man’s memories. He’s not him, not really.

Before he can really fall into some existential crisis, he perks up at the sound of a very familiar voice.

‘Sweetheart put the damn knife down before you hurt yourself.’

‘Wha-?! I’ll have you know my father trained me!.’

The sound of scoff. ‘Yeah I bet. C’mere and show me so I can see what he did wrong.’

That’s…his voice. And that other one, is that yours? The image on the tiny screen in front of you is slowly coming into focus. He hears a soft giggle, a melody oh so sweet.

‘You’re impossible!’

The image snaps into focus immediately, and what he is faced with, causes every nerve in his body to tense up.

There he is. Human Quaritch, there in your memory, and it seems you’re not that much taller than him. That does not make sense. There’s no feasible way for you to have been born, grow up to that height and age, and interact with his human self. Jake hadn’t been on the planet long enough for that to happen.

 He’s so confused. That shouldn’t be possible. He, that man, died years ago. What the hell is going on here? Where could you have possibly gotten these memories from? Did you make them up somehow? Figure out a way to fool the machine? He looks to you then, and his blood ran colder than the corpse of his former self.

You’re slumped back, no longer screaming, no longer fighting. Blood paints your face, broken by streams of tears. He’s about to reach for you when one final image flashes on the screen. A dark room. Looks like his old bedroom back at Hell’s Gate. There he stands, in the centre. He turns to look at the camera, at you.

‘Well hey there Sweetheart. Now aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes…’

Before Quaritch can even reach for the emergency shut-down button, the machine suddenly sputters to a stop, sparks flying from it’s spinning mechanism. The screen before the admiral flashes red, loud static screeches from within, causing everyone to cover their ears.

“ENOUGH”

The power goes out, drenching the lab in darkness. The only light permeating is that from yours and his bodies. It takes only a few seconds for the power to return.

He looks to the General, and she is pissed.

“Care to explain, Colonel? What the hell was that?” Quaritch holds his hands up defensively.

“I have no memory of her. I don’t know what any of those images were. He didn’t talk about no Na’vi woman in any of his messages, and she sure as shit ain’t in any of the memories you gave me. I ain’t got an answer for ya.”

She eyes him suspiciously. A stare down. He can feel his ears pin back in annoyance, tail lightly swishing. But he spoke the truth.

“Fine. I believe you. Could very well be someone he acquainted with after his memories were backed up. Though that still raises more questions. And I intend to get those answers one way or another.” She looks to you then, completely unbothered by your appearance. She notices the faint rise and fall of your chest. Still breathing.

“Get her out of here. See to it that she’s ready and able in the next few days.” She walks away from him, not leaving any room for argument. She immediately goes to the scientists to assess the machine, a damage report, run diagnostics. Quaritch doesn’t need to be told twice.

Hastily he unfastens you from the machine, picks you up in his arms and rushed you to medical.

---

The doctors give you a thorough once over, made sure there was no lasting damage. To his utter relief, you were miraculously alright. But you remained fast asleep. After the check-up he brought you back to your cell, carefully placing you on the bed. He tucked your knees into you in an attempt to try and fit all of you on the bed the best he could.

He knelt before you then, stared at your face intently. You looked so peaceful, the slow rhythmic sounds of your breathing luring him in. He brushed some of your hair out of your face, the stain of blood and tears still slightly visible; the scientists did what they could. He’d have you wash yourself proper once you wake up.

His eyes widened. Would you even wake up after something like that? And why does even care, really? You aren’t anything to him; not really. Maybe you were to his human self, but even then, the memories he carries cut off before then apparently. But the longer he stares at your face, the tighter his heart squeezes. An uncomfortable knot forms in the pit of his stomach. Too afraid to dwell on these feelings, he stands and hurriedly leaves the room; he’d check on you later.

He’s got to tell Spider. The kid was going to find out about this one way or another. He’d rather the kid hear it from him.

---

“There you are! What happened before? All the lights turned off. The power go out?” Spider rushes to him as soon as he enters.

He’s words get caught in his throat as he stares down at the boy. His not-son. But he kind of is, isn’t he? The memories demand it so. The paternal feelings he has for this boy are undeniable. But whatever trust he’s brokered with the boy, he’s all but shattered now.

“Why’re you looking at me like that…?” A worried look crosses Spider’s face. “Did…Did something happen to my sister? Did you guys hurt her? Where is she?! I want to see her!!!” The longer the silence remains, the more agitated Spider becomes.

“I’m sorry kid…The science pukes, and Ardmore…They put her in that brain scan machine. It knocked her out cold.” He feels shame relaying this to the boy. The hurt and shocked look that adorns his face cuts him something deep.

“Let me see her. LET. ME. SEE. HER.” Spider tries to push pass him, but Quaritch stops him with just a hand. Spider pulls his hand away and makes for the door. And so the two start struggling. Quaritch holding him back with all his strength, all the while Spider fights him with all his might and willpower, screaming at the top of his lungs. He had to see you. Had to get to you. You can’t be hurt. He’d never forgive himself. For you to be suffering while he was out having fun with the recoms?

“LET ME GO!!! LET ME SEE MY SISTER!!! PLEASE!!! LET ME SEE [Y/N]!!!”

‘[Y/N]? That’s…your name?’ He’s taken aback by the sound of your name. Had he really not deigned to ask it of you all this time? Shameful. Disgusting.

A sharp pain suddenly slices through his skull. He pushes Spider to the side, clutching his head as he falls to his knees. He yells in pain.

Spider is taken aback by the sudden action, picking himself off the floor as he stares intently at Quaritch. Before he can ask what’s wrong, the older man gets up and exists the room in one fluid motion, no words said. Spider bangs on the door, demanding to see you, all the while he can’t stop the tears that start streaming down his face.

---

[Y/N]…

[Y/N]…

[Y/N]…

Your name repeats itself like a mantra in his thoughts, dances across his mind draped in silk. The pain has subsided, leaving a dull ache in its wake. He stumbles his way back into his room, collapsing onto his bed. He’s grateful that they were made with their new bodies in mind.

He thinks then, about those images he saw on that screen. He called you Sweetheart. And the looks he gave you? He meant it. The very implications themselves were troubling. What the fuck was he doing after he made these back up memories? Over and over he replays them. Those images. The sound of your laughter. And your name.

Sleep takes him before he even realises.

---

Quaritch opens his eyes with a start.

White.

That’s all he sees. There is no sky, no ground. No floor, no ceiling. Only the bright brilliance of white. He lifts his hands to his face, the blue of his hands a stark contrast to the world.

Where was he? Was he dreaming? He didn’t feel in pain anymore.

He turns himself to assess his surroundings. He finds himself floating, no solid ground beneath his feet. He tries to move then, and finds his legs are held steadfast by an invisible force. He is only able to turn his top half, barely.

A voice then, interrupts his struggling.

“You know, my son…You sure are taking your time. When I put you in that new body, I didn’t expect you to take this long to remember…”

The voice is soft like feathers, the melody of spring. But it is also deep like the ocean, dark as night, hot like fire. It bathes him in sunlight, and burns him all the same.

“Who—who’s there?! Show yourself! Where am I?!” Fear pools into his being. He does not like the feeling of not being in control.

“Silly boy…Always so feisty! It seems then, that you are in dire need…Of a little push.” On that final word, he feels a hand touch between his shoulder blades, and push him with all its might.

The world snaps to black and suddenly he’s free falling. He can’t help the scream that rips from his mouth. He hears a giggle slowly fade above him as he falls further into the abyss.

---

Quaritch sits up in his room, screaming at the top of his lungs as he does. He grabs his mask and breathes deep, trying desperately to calm himself.

Where is he? Where are you? He looks around his room, confused almost. Right, he must have fallen asleep after his talk with…his son? Miles. No, Spider. His son. His. He looks at his hands, almost expecting the golden tan of his human skin. Human?

Confused by his own train of thought, he stumbles into the bathroom to splash water on his face.

He grips the sink tightly, staring at the water as it goes down the drain.

It feels like he’s been asleep for so long. Everything is so foggy in his mind. Spider is, his son. And he called you his sister…You…You? YOU!

The memory crashes into him hard enough to knock him to the ground. Everything snaps hard into place; he feels as though his mind has been whipped a hundred times over. It is a pain he would be happy to not revisit ever again.

The last time he saw you, in the Dreamscape. You disappeared like you usually do, but then…a voice.

---

“My son…”

“Oh…it’s you.” He cannot see her. She never shows herself. But Her presence is felt. It encapsulates his entire being. He cannot escape Her influence.  He wonders if She’s here to chastise him about what he’s been doing with you.

“There is something you must do for me, Child. And I am going to put you to rest until the time is right.”

“What? To rest? Why?” Not about you, a good start. Though he finds her request strange all the same. Put a soul to sleep?

“Silly Child. Do not question. When you awaken in your new body, you will not remember. I will let you keep those, fake memories, your fellow Sky People made.” Ah. That.

“Shit…they really gonna go ahead with that?”

“Language.”

He rolls his eyes at the reprimand.

“Why put me back? Wouldn’t the backups be enough to get the body goin?”

She laughs then. As if this was truly the funniest thing imaginable.

“The arrogance of your kind astounds me, truly. No. Your, ‘backups’, will never suffice. I would never allow it. These Na’vi bodies will exist because I allow it. And they will end, because I demand it.”

“Wait, did you say Na’vi?”

---

And then, nothing.

She must have been true to her word. Cutting him off then suddenly putting him into a sort of stasis sleep.

Quaritch throws up into the toilet beside him, reeling as his mind tries so desperately to make sense of all the memories bombarding him at once. He’s not sure how long he lies there, sorting through it all. Groggily he sits up, and goes to the sink to clean his mouth properly.

The minty feeling brings some relief.

When he sees his reflection, it’s a weird feeling of something he’s never seen, and something he should be used to after being awake all this time. He closes his eyes, rubbing his hands down his face in frustration.

In image of you flashes in his mind.

‘[Y/N]???’

His eyes fly open and the thought of you. Guilt tears into his flesh, ripping through blood and sinew. He’s hurt you. He really hurt you. Used you. And you gave up, you just, took it all. He has to find you, he has to apologise, has to make it right somehow. He has to explain, he didn’t remember! Else, he’d have never—!

He runs out the room without finishing that thought.

---

The sound of a door opening is the first thing you register.

Your mind is filled with fog, senses dulled. You muster what little strength you can to open your eyes, but it’s not enough. The only thing you see is a silhouette approaching you, and in the fog of your mind, it looks so much like Your Human. You close your eyes and weep softly.

You think you feel yourself being lifted up, but you're not sure for how long. Next think you feel is the soft feeling of a bed beneath you. There is a hand on your cheek, and it is so warm, so familiar. Then a whisper of your name, and something else.

“[Y/N]…I’m so sorry darling…”

---

When next your eyes open, the room is dark. But damn do you feel refreshed. You haven’t slept that good since you got trapped in this place.

You sit up and stretch, clicking joints as you do.

Your eyes quickly adjust to the darkness, and your heart skips. This is not your cell.

It is bigger. There is a door ahead, presumably out, and what you can only assume is a bathroom door to your left. The bed you’re on is in the corner of the room, and it’s big enough for your tall body. You look to your right and cover your mouth before you can scream. You shuffle back and press yourself into the wall as if it would swallow you whole. You almost hoped it did.

There beside the bed, uncomfortably sat in a chair, arms crossed and asleep, is The Demon.

Did he bring you here? Where exactly is here?

You gaze around the room once more, taking note of some gym equipment in one corner, and the clothes neatly folded in an alcove on the wall. Slowly you move your hands from your face and breath deep, quietly. The scent is unmistakable. This must be his dwelling. You lean down and sniff the sheets. Yup, that’s him alright.

You try to move off the bed quietly, but the shuffle of the sheets is enough to alert him.

His eyes are on you immediately. You stare at each other.

You break eye contact and scramble for the door.

But he’s just as quick, and a strong arm grabs you around the waist, pulling you flush against his front. His other arm crosses over your chest to hold your arms still. You start fighting, kick and screaming, hands clawing at the arms holding you steadfast.

“Let me go! I don’t want to see you! LET ME GO YOU MONSTER! I WON’T LET YOU HURT ME ANYMORE! I’D SOONER DIE THAN LET YOU TOUCH ME AGAIN!!!”

You’re screaming at the top of your lungs. Quaritch is grateful that the rooms are sound proof.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N], calm down! Please!” But you ignore his plea and continue to thrash wildly. “[Y/N]! Listen to me, please! It’s me!!!” You stop dead at that, and the Demon continues. “It’s me…[Y/N]…it’s me…”

You become stock still at those words. You heart beats hard in your chest, the implications of his words break you.

“No…no it’s not…you look like Him…you smell like Him…but you are not Him…” you spit with as much venom as you can, but can’t help the tears that flow freely. The waver in your voice breaks his heart.

“It’s me Sweetheart…I promise…Here, look at me…please…” You feel him loosen his hold on you. He moves his hands to your upper arms, and slowly he turns you to face him. Your tears continue to fall silently.

You look up at him then, meeting his gaze. And in that darkened room, you see Him. Those golden eyes shine down on you, staring at you with such reverence, sorrow, guilt, longing. It all dances in the liquid gold of his eyes. And the way he pinches his brow, is so like Him.

“…Miles?” He lets out a shaky laugh, a sigh of relief. You do remember him. Thank the Great Mother.

“Yeah…it’s me sweetheart. For real this time.” He moves one hand to your face, gently swiping his thumb to brush away your tears. It doesn’t matter, they don’t stop falling as you stare up at him.

“Seeing you in person like this…Getting to touch you, for real…You’re more beautiful than that Dream ever made you…” You scoff at him, and can’t help the smallest of smiles. His other hand moves to cup the other side of your face. You move both your hands to cover his.

“Skxáwng…I only look like this because of my soul, remember?” The low rumble of his chuckle sends shivers down your spine. Oh how you have missed him. But you can’t forget everything that’s happened. You place a hand on his chest, feeling the fast beat of his heart. His strong heart.

“…Why?” You don’t need to elaborate; he understands what you are asking of him.

“…Eywa, she…She came to me. The last time I saw you. Just after you left…”

“The Great Mother spoke to you?” You are shocked. He nods, and continues.

“She told me, she’s gotta put me back in a body. But I wouldn’t remember anything…Not properly. Before I died, I made a back up of my memories. A contingency plan in the event of my untimely death. Seems the higher ups went ahead and resurrected me and a few others, but in Na’vi bodies. But Eywa, she said, these bodies wouldn’t, exist? Without her say so, I guess. So…I’m assuming all of us recoms, are actually harbouring our original souls, that she kept. For this reason I suppose.”

You swallow thickly. It’s a lot to take in. Your eyes cast downward as you try to process it all. So Eywa, blessed Great Mother, did she foresee this? And she keep these human souls so their Na’vi bodies would live?

“[Y/N]…” Quaritch calls you, and you look up to meet his gaze. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry…I mean that, I’m really fucking sorry…Everything I did to you darling, I hurt you. Really hurt you. Please know, that wasn’t really me. I wasn’t thinking properly. If—if I remembered, I would have never—” You jump at him unexpectedly, wrapping your legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Instinctually he has one arm supporting your rump, his other hand splayed across your back. In this position, it’s your turn to look down at him.

 “It’s…I don’t want to say it’s okay…Because it’s not really okay…But…I understand. And I’ll forgive you, in time…” You see the quiver of his lips, his ears pressed back as he tries to not cry.

“I’ve missed you so much Quaritch…I thought you left me.” You pull him into the crook of your neck, holding his head to you tightly. He breathes deep the smell of you.

“Never darling. I would never have left you willingly. I’m sorry.” You press a kiss to the side of his head. And it’s all he needs to break. He weeps quietly into the crook of your neck. He truly never meant to hurt you, and he will hate himself for a long time for the things he did against your will.

When he stops, you gently push on his shoulders for him to lean back. When once again your eyes meet, it is your turn to wipe away his tears. You smile at him, gently tracing the stars on his face. Carefully you study his face, really looking at him. He really is Your Human, made Na’vi. Such a handsome face.

“This body suits you well, Quaritch. Then again, you were always handsome.” Even in this low light, you can see the blush that creeps on his skin.

“Heh…that right?” He smirks and you all but melt at the toothy grin. You feel his tail wrap around yours.

“Yeah…that’s right.”

You kiss him.

You kiss him and it’s filled with every lonely night, every mournful sleep, every minute of every day you missed him. You move your head to deepen the kiss, the need for breathing be damned. You feel his hands grip at you tighter, feel him press into you that much harder.

His lips are softer than you remember, and you revel in the feeling. You on the other hand, are just as he remembers; something akin to perfection. The Peace of Eden granted to him.

The two of you move your mouths along one another in a hot sloppy mess, filled with nothing but unspoken words, drenched in a cacophony of emotion. It is almost overwhelming. You feel him lick your lips, begging for entrance, and you are all too eager to oblige. You part your lips and go for his tongue first. You moans low into your mouth at your boldness. The two of you don’t fight, but let your tongues dance in each other’s mouth, tasting and drinking deep of one another.

After a time you break apart, you rest your forehead to his, nose to nose, as close as you possibly can while still being able to breath. The air is hot with your mixed breath.

“I have definitely missed you,” you say breathlessly with a smile, eyes half lidded in bliss. He smiles up at you.

“Then, let’s make up for lost time,” he says and gently lets you down back onto your feet. You entwine your hand with his and move to pull him to the bed, but he doesn’t move. You turn to look at him questioningly.

“Nuh-huh sweetheart. This time, it’s all about you.” He says and pulls you toward the door near the bed. He touches a panel on the side, and as you had expected, it opens to a bathroom.

“Come. Let me take care of you. Properly. Like you deserve.” He leads you in, the door shutting behind you. He is gentle and purposeful with his movements. He moves slowly, as if to savour every moment. He begins with undressing you. Ever since he had ripped apart your original clothes, he had given you a tank top and shorts made for one of the recom girls; though the top did little for you, considering your size.

Once you’re completely naked, he starts undoing your hair. He leads you to the far wall, two shower heads, one overhanging the other. He turns a metal knob and hot water shoots out the higher head. It falls on you like heavy rain, and you sigh audibly at the feeling.

Satisfied you’ll be okay for a moment, Quaritch takes the opportunity to undress himself as fast as possible.

Immediately he’s back at you.

You feel him undo the braid of your kuru. He tilts your head back, slowly he massages your scalp. He rubs his strong thick fingers in slow circles on your head, massaging deeply at the base of your kuru. You moan at the feeling.

“That feel good?”

“Hm-hmm,” you hum contently in response. He nods to himself.

You feel him lather something into your hair then. It smells nice, but also, very strange yet familiar. You realise it’s something you have smelt on some of the scientists back at base. It must be something they wash their hair with then. You don’t really care, more interested in the soothing way Quaritch massages your hair. Carefully he washes your hair, being extra careful with the long hair for your braid.

You can’t help but smile at the attention.

A new smell hits you, and you feel his hands on your body this time. Slowly he works, lathering softness up and down your arms, your neck, your belly, your back. When he gets to your chest, he massages your mounds for longer than you think is necessary to clean them. You don’t mind though, and enjoy the soft pleasure it gives you. You lean your head back into his chest as he continues to massage you in each hand. You feel his arousal between your ass cheeks, and it excites you that much more.

He stops himself though, can’t get too excited. He wants to finish what he started. A soft wet material is placed gently on your sex, and you feel him carefully clean your most intimate parts. When he’s done there, he’s back to using his hands, rubbing them up and down your legs, up and down your tail. He lifts one leg to wash your foot properly, and you giggle at the ticklish feeling. You playfully hit him with your tail.

“Hey, I’m trying to work here,” he says as he busies himself with your other leg.

Once his done, you expected him to get back to his feet. Instead you are caught off guard when you feel his hands squeeze both your ass cheeks apart. You turn to him, and find him on his knees, and you can clearly see just how aroused he is.

“Turn back around baby. Brace yourself on the wall, and stick your ass out for me.” You don’t need to be told twice. You pull your kuru over your shoulder to the front, letting it hang before you. He taps your laps and you spread them further. Hands and forearms pressed to the tiles, ass up. He takes your tail and wraps it around your leg, out of his way.

“Perfect,” he hums.

Slowly he stars pressing light kisses to your inner thigh. Up he travels, closer and closer to your apex. But just before reaching your centre, he moves to the other leg, continuing with his worship. All the while his hands gently massage the swell of your ass cheeks.

He stops again just short of your core and you almost whine. He takes both thumbs to either side of your lower lips and spreads you.

You make a startled moan as he does this a few times, pressing your lips together before spreading you, as if to spread your nectar evenly.

“Hmmm…such a pretty pussy all for me. I didn’t think you could grow to be any more beautiful, [Y/N]…” This time you do whine at his words.

He leans forwards and gives you a slow lick to your exposed hole. You inhale sharply at the feeling, immediately becoming slicker at the feeling. Slowly he licks you, up and down, before he moves to your clit and gently sucks.

The noises you make go straight to his hardened cock. He would give anything to be buried deep inside you right the fuck now. But no, first, he owes you this at least. He wants you to come into his mouth, he wants to know what you truly taste like. Wants to know if you taste different with his new body. He removes his mouth from you for but a moment.

“Turn around darling. I wanna see those pretty eyes when I make you come with my mouth,” You turn around, leaning your back to the wall for support.

He wastes no time, mouth back between your legs. But this time, his eyes are on you, and you can’t look away. He spreads your lips again, pressing his nose to your clit, while his tongue rubs along the inside of your entrance.

“Hnnf…Quaritch…” You moan his name, the feeling of his mouth on your cunt sending fire to your core. You feel the build up of an orgasm, pleasure wound tight around your soul.

One hand has you spread open. He brings his other hand up to replace his tongue. He sticks one long finger inside you, gently rubbing your inner walls. Your eyes threatening to close at the feeling.

“Keeps those eyes open, sweetness,” You will yourself to open your eyes, trying your best not to break eye contract. He turns his hand upward, and rubs a soft spongy part of you.

“Aaaahh!” You moan loudly at the feeling of him caressing your g-spot.

“There we go, that’s the spot.” He says and moves to suck your clit. He sticks another finger in, and gently rubs the same spot.

“Yes yes yes please right there! Quaritch! Please don’t stop, don’t you ever stop!” Your mouth hangs open as you moan the words. You can’t stop yourself; a hand moves to grab his short hair, and you press his face harder onto your pussy. His presses his tongue to your clit, caressing it in time with the fingers pumping in and out of you.

“Not on your life, baby.”

You feel your orgasm approaching, hot white pleasure seeming through your veins, wrapping around each nerve ending. An unfamiliar pressure builds along aside it all.

“Quaritch—I’m…I’m gonna—” You can’t get the words out properly.

“Go ahead darling. Cum for me, [Y/N], let me taste you, all of you,”

And when he sticks a third finger in to rub that soft spot, all it takes is one final hard suck to your clit.

The orgasm hits you hard, harder than he’s ever made you cum, harder than you’ve ever made yourself come.

You scream his name as burning pleasure bursts from your cunt, spreading to every part of your body. But the pleasure builds more as he continues to suck, and suddenly you feel like you’re peeing. You are shocked as you squirt clear liquid straight onto his face, there’s so much he doesn’t catch it all in his mouth. You toes curl at the uncontrollable feeling, your body shaking at the overwhelming sensation. Your eyes roll back into your head as you feel yourself orgasm again.

“There it is…That’s my good girl, always knew you could do it,” he praises you, fingers still buried in you. He stands up then, wrapping an arm around your back to help support you. He buries his face in your neck, sucking at your tender flesh. He slowly starts pumping his fingers inside you, you wet squelch of your pussy embarrassing to your ears.

It’s all too much, you’re not ready yet. The pleasure is boarding on painful.

“Hnnnggg…Sto…Quari...hnnff...Aaaahhh!” You can’t formulate whole words, only strangled sounds as your body burns.

“Easy baby, easy does it now.” He removes his fingers from your throbbing core. He lifts you up then, presses your back against the cold tiles, supporting you under your ass. He has one hand on his aching cock at your entrance. Slowly he rubs the tip and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

“You’re my pretty little instrument to play, [Y/N]; and I plan to write a symphony.” He pushes into you and meets no resistance. A pitched mewl escapes your lips at the new feeling. Never have you ever felt so completely, full. This new body, you knew he’d be big, but it didn’t really register how big he was when you were sucking him off. You only just came, but already you want to cum again on his cock. You walls clench around him at the thought.

“Fuck [Y/N], you’re so tight baby—Perfectly made just for me,” he groans into your ear, but does not move; giving you a moment to adjust to his size. You secure your legs around him, tucking your ankles into the small of his back.

“Please…Please I need to move darling; you’re driving me crazy here…” He begs as he looks into your eyes. You shake your head and it takes all his willpower to not cry in frustration. But he sees you move to grab your queue, holding the tip between you two.

“First…Bond with me, Miles.” His eyes widen when you call him by his first name. His heart swells. “If we bond…know that it is for life. I will never mate with another. There will only be you…There…has only ever been you. Ever since the Dream I… I have only had eyes for you…You are, were, my human. My first love…And…I want you to be my mate...I love you,” You bring one hand up to gently cup the side of his face, gently rubbing his cheek of the stray tear.

“[Y/N]…are…are you, sure? After everything I’ve done, even when I was human…I did a lot of bad things, terrible things…Then after we captured you…Are you sure I’m the kind of man you wanna spend the rest of your life with?”

You giggle at him, wiggling your hips. He sucks in a breath, clenching his jaw.

“It is by Eywa’s will that you are brought back to me. This time, I am not letting you go,” You squeeze your legs tight, forcing him to step forward. The force alone pushes you further up the tiles, the two of you moaning as his dick pushes as far into you as possible. He doesn’t need anymore convincing. He grabs is queue and brings it to yours.

The two of you watch with baited breath as the pink tendrils slowly entwine.

The two of you drop your queues, hands immediately seeking each other as all new sensations course through you.

You feel it, the sensation of being buried deep into your warm centre, and he in turns feels the pleasure of being spread and stuffed by his own dick.

He smashes his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply, passionately. Without warning, he starts pounding into you, unable to control himself any longer.

And you don’t care. You roughly grab the back of his head, deepening the kiss, and he moans into your mouth.

His pace is fast and rough. It feels like his dick moulds itself into the walls of your slick cunt with each thrust deep inside you. You swear you can feel the tip of his cock tease your womb.

This time your orgasm is not slow. It spreads fast like wild fire, burning every nerve in body, setting your core alight with pleasure.

You breathlessly moan into his mouth. He pulls back and bites you in the neck.

“Hnnnnngggg! Miles! Right there! Yes, YES! PLEASE!” You moan at the pain and pleasure, feeling him lick at the bruise forming.

“Tell me! Tell me how good it feels!”

“AAAaaaaaahhh!!!” You can’t respond to his demands, he starts pumping into slower, but harder, grunting each time he bottoms out into you.

“You think I forgot about those shitty brats from your clan? I wonder what they think of you know all grown up, massive fucking tits, these wide hips. Perfect for carrying a baby. Is that what you want, [Y/N]?” You cry at the pleasure assaulting your nerves, his words stroking something deep and primal within you. Never had you ever considered having children, especially since he had been human. But now, with this Na’vi body?

“YES! YES! YES! Please Colonel, stuff me, fuck me, breed me! Cum in me! Put a baby in me! Make me yours!!!”

He chuckles, and the deep bravado of his voice nearly tips you over the edge.

“You were always mine darling. Eywa must’a made you just for me. You’re MINE, you hear me?!” He starts pounding fast again, his pace unrelenting.

“I love you too—I love you I love you—!” he repeats in your ear over and over again. And so the cord snaps, and your orgasm rains on you, pleasure piercing you. Your walls tighten, and the vice grip is all Quaritch needs to finish. He holds himself as close to you as possible, almost painfully into your pelvis bone.

You feel his pleasure through the bond, you hear the guttural sound he makes as he coats your walls with his seed. He rests his head into the crook of neck, breathing heavily. You feel the strain of his muscles as he tries to hold the both of you up.

You untangle yourself to stand, and he welcomes the reprieve.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he wraps his around your waist, bringing each other as close as possible. You hold each other like that, with his head in your neck, for a short while. Gently do the two of you sway from side to side to some phantom music.

Eventually though, you start to feel a little uncomfortable being in the hot water this long. He feels this too through the bond, and pulls back, pulling himself from you as he does.

You moan at the feeling of his cum running down your leg. What you don’t expect is him scooping some with his fingers and sticking it back up into your sensitive pussy. You yelp with surprise.

“Don’t waste any darlin’,” he says with a cheeky grin. And he doesn’t stop. He pulls another orgasm from you with just his fingers.

“That’s is baby, just like that…” he whispers into your ear and you squirt all over again.

---

By time you two are actually done in the shower, you cannot stand on your own. Quaritch didn’t mind though, all too happy to dry you and carry you to the bed himself. He towel dries your hair carefully, mindful of the bond yet to be broken.

You help him braid your hair back over your queue. It is a very intimate thing, and he feels your heart swell at the activity.

“So…does this mean we’re married?” He asks as he finishes the bottom of braid. You giggle at him.

“Yes. You are my mate. My partner. My husband,” you smile sweetly as the words leave your lips.

“Hmm…My wife.” He likes the sound of that.

“Yes, husband?”

He looks at you for a second, confused, before he understands. Oh yes, he definitely likes the sound of that.

“Come here you!” He grabs you and you laugh uncontrollably as he squeezes you to him, peppering your neck and face with light kisses.

He pulls you to lie back down on the bed with him, you nestle into his side, arm draped over his broad chest, head resting in the crook of his neck. He puts an arm securely around your waist, his other hand comes to entwine with yours laying over him. Your bond rests protected under your joint hands.

You plant a soft kiss to his neck, and he looks to meet your gaze lovingly.

“I love you, Miles. Oel ngati kameie.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Truly. Deeply. Forever. Oel ngati kameie, [Y/N].”

And you believe him.

---

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who's been following this mini series! Please do leave a comment and share your thoughts with me!

SO! My friend linked me this AI that kind kind of mimic voices if it's learnt off a good enough sample...You best BELIEVE, I attempted to make Quaritch lmaoooo. Anyway enjoy that. It's a bid hard to find balance between sounding close to the original, but also getting it to emote properly!

It's a work in progress ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @lvangel98, @rsclopez, @onlyreadz @manymaria111, @kristeen31xxx @mechformers @olivia-the-weirdo @essenceinpink @villirios

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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]

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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.

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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.

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

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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>

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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

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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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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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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.

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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

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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)

I saw a post discussing Spiders hair earlier and I can’t get it out of my mind. For anyone who doesn’t know, I study theater design and I can’t get over how good of a design choice it would have been to have Spiders head shaved by the RDA.

Spiders dreads are a combatted topic 24/7, but think of it from a narrative stand point. He has dreads to resemble Jake, his hero and desired father figure, but his dreads are choppy and awkward. Jake’s are maintained and well cared for with a regular length and size in comparison to Spiders which are a multitude of lengths, more matted than styled, and just overall poorly done. However, Spider clings to them thinking it makes him more like the na’vi and pass him better as one of the people. He thinks it claims him to a family.

His hair is something of his identity but also a self-proclaimed attachment to Jake that more accurately shows how separate he is from them - his hair is uncared for and shows he’s a child without anyone to help him with it. It moreso shows him as the “stray” he’s fighting not to be.

With that emotional connection in mind, consider the RDA shaving his head. They’re all forced submission and conformity, thinking he looks too savage and too wild by having dreaded hair or stripes on his skin. They shave it and leave it choppy and uneven. It’s embarrassing and a humiliation tactic where he’s left feeling stripped of part of his identity and forced closer to humanity while also having it poorly done as a reminder that no one cared for him enough to do it well.

Consider Quaritch stepping in, all bravado and false fatherly love, sitting him down on their first night out and gently shaving his hair down. Imagine him shaving it into the same crop he wore in his life until it’s even and clean. It’s the first time his hair has been done and cared for properly since his early childhood when Norm still did it for him.

Except this time it’s Quaritch claiming him - bringing out the family resemblance through his hair, marking him as his own in the way Spider always begged someone would, but also marking him distinctly as human. As loved only by those he hates. Imagine the emotional manipulation of his hair being done for the first time by Quaritch after he watched Neytiri and Jake care for their own children’s his whole life.

Imagine him in the reef, blood on his hands and knowing Quaritch is alive, with no braids in his hair, no dreads, and nothing to tie him back to who he was. Kiri trying to thread her fingers into nothing, Spider shivering with nothing on his neck, and then laying there with his hair beginning to grow and again no one to braid it.

The angst it could be. Hair care can be such an intimate thing, especially in native cultures. They missed such a great opportunity to explore a visual cue of everything Spider went through without having to make it gory or too intense. But not only that, it could have shown his arc after with his hair showing where he ends - preferably braided and neat, shells and beads woven in, and him visually showing the change of course his life takes