#and i’m not going to downplay what she did | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

catmiemy · 7 months ago

Text

Not Work Day (Aitana Bonmatí x Reader)

Summary: Aitana and you spend a rare day off together.

A/N: This is just a silly little story I thought of a while ago and finally wrote in hopes of getting into more of a writting mood again. So many ideas and so little ability to put them on 'paper' lately...

I hope you enjoy this one! :)

Dating a professional football player wasn’t always easy. Whenever you mentioned that to anyone they usually assumed you referred to your girlfriend having to travel a lot or the lack of days off together because of conflicting schedules, or the interest the nosey media and even nosier public had in your relationship.

And sure, all of these things could be tricky at times, but there was something else that was even harder to bear; seeing your girlfriend being worked to the ground with almost no time to recuperate properly. Before you started dating Aitana you had never thought much about it, now it haunted you during the days and disturbed your dreams.

Every new injury you heard about made your stomach drop, always wondering the same thing, what if next time it would be your girlfriend going down with some horrible injury? The guilt always followed close behind, with your berating yourself for being happy in any capacity that someone else got hurt.

More often than not it was a struggle to watch Aitana’s games. You had a tendency to clench every single muscle in your body until the final whistle was blown, and you could be sure that nothing bad had happened.

For a while you did your best to keep these concerns to yourself, not wanting to make Aitana worry about you unnecessarily. Convinced that if you just wanted it enough, you would get over this.

You should have known that your girlfriend would catch on; she was too perceptive not to notice it, too concerned about your well-being to miss it.

When she did you explained somewhat reluctantly what was bothering you; the last thing you wanted was for your girlfriend to feel guilty. This wasn’t her fault at all and she shouldn’t feel bad about playing the sport she loved.

Despite your best efforts to downplay it, the first thing you saw in Aitana’s eyes once you finished your explanation was guilt. Most likely because you were looking for that emotion specifically, but in that moment you couldn’t think rationally like this. You were about to apologize, try and take it back somehow, when she asked you one simple question.

“Is there anything we can do to make you feel better about it?”

Up until that point it had never occurred to you to think about possible ways to make the situation easier for yourself. Usually your thoughts had been centered around scolding yourself for being such a worrywart. It made you oddly emotional that Aitana took you this seriously and didn’t dismiss your concerns.

Neither of you found a satisfying answer to the question that night, but over time you came up with something that helped, a tradition that you called ‘not work days’.

On one of these ‘not work days’ you were awoken by Aitana trying to get up. Without opening your eyes you reached out to grab her wrist and pull her back into bed. You were met by some resistance, forcing you to open your eyes and scowl at the brunette.

“Hey, you work or not work?” You asked, leaving no room for interpretation what the correct answer was.

Aitana rolled her eyes at you, but relented, snuggling back into you much to your delight. You wrapped your arms around her and buried your face in her shoulder.

“I’m never going to be free of that stupid phrase, am I?” She grumbled.

“Nope,” you agreed, “And now hush, it’s way too early to be up on a not work day.”

You felt some lingering tenseness in your girlfriend’s body, apparently she wasn’t fully ready yet to commit to resting some more. It was time to pull out your magic weapon; you began gently tracing small circles in the space between Aitana’s eyebrows. It worked like a charm. Within seconds the brunette fell back asleep and you let yourself drift off as well.

The next time you woke up it was on your own accord, like you hoped it would be. Usually when you managed to get your girlfriend back to sleep she didn’t wake up again until late in the morning. In your mind a clear indication that the Spaniard needed this extra rest.

You allowed yourself to linger in bed a little longer to hold Aitana in your arms and watch her sleep. It was rare for her to be still if she was awake, always moving around, busy with one thing after another.

Mostly the midfielder loved it and was happy with her life, but sometimes it became all too much. She had confided in you a while back that being with you had helped her to finally find a healthy balance in her life. That was without a doubt the biggest compliment anyone had ever given you.

After a few more minutes you placed a soft kiss on your girlfriend’s forehead, before carefully extracting yourself and moving to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Breakfast in bed was a staple of the not work days..

You hummed happily to yourself while you made an omelet, mixed a smoothie and cut up some cherry tomatoes. And of course you couldn’t forget about the coffee! When everything was ready you walked back to the bedroom, ready to wake up Aitana with some gentle cuddles.

However, your plan was thwarted. You opened the door and instantly spotted your girlfriend on her cell phone. This in itself wasn’t a problem, but the way she had crunched up her nose and her eyebrows were knitted together, revealed to you that she was most likely looking at something work related. She looked too stressed for this to be anything else.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, “This is a not work day!”

You expected the Catalan to smile at you apologetically, instead a huge grin appeared on her face and she turned her phone around. It took a moment until you realized why she had done that; your girlfriend was recording the entire interaction and apparently she thought this was hilarious.

“Haha, very funny,” you grumbled, “I really thought you were working already.”

“I know, you should have seen your face,” Aitana replied between laughter, “Oh wait, you can. Come over here, mi amor.” She patted the bed next to her, but you remained standing. You would have crossed your arms, but the breakfast tray was stopping you from doing so.

“Don’t be like that, mi amor. I’m only giving back what you’ve been handing out. Or do I have to remind you how often you’re sending me that stupid ‘You work or not work’ video? How you even added some cute animal pictures to the beginning of it, so I wouldn’t recognize right away what clip it is? You violated the sanctity of cute animal pictures!”

The midfielder sounded so scandalized by this that you couldn’t help but crack a smile. You shuffled over to the bed, leaning over to give your girlfriend a good morning kiss. Just like you hoped this successfully distracted her from the stupid video she had recorded because you had no interest in watching it. You were admittedly better at teasing than being teased.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Aitana asked, tucking into her breakfast. “This is so good by the way.”

“No plans, we just do whatever you want to do,” you responded, deliberately ignoring her praise. Dealing with compliments also wasn’t one of your strengths.

“Whatever I want?” The Catalan asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “Everything that’s within the rules of not work days,” you clarified.

“But coming up with ideas is work too,” your girlfriend complained.

“My poor baby! Okay, here are some ideas; we can bundle up on the couch and watch a movie, we can make cookies, we can take a walk in the rain…”

“Yes! Let’s take a walk in the rain,” Aitana interrupted, her choice surprising you. The midfielder wasn’t known for liking the rain, in fact she made no secret of how much she hated the rain.

“Really?” You double-checked.

Your girlfriend nodded, “Yeah, you made it sound so romantic a few days ago. Both of us under one umbrella, the rain pattering on it, huddling close together for warmth. Sounds like a movie scene.”

“Okay then, let’s do it.”

The two of you got ready, Aitana putting on much more clothes than you. Normally you would tease your girlfriend about it, but you didn’t want to risk her remembering the video she had taken earlier.

In the beginning the walk was actually romantic. The sound of the pitter patter on the umbrella was soothing, especially with how quiet and deserted the roads were. You breathed in deeply, savoring the smell of rain. Aitana was snuggling into your side and when you looked over she had a soft smile on her lips.

Before too long however, you noticed that your girlfriend clung a little too strongly to you and she was dragging her feet. This time when you glanced her way you were met by an unhappy expression, though it quickly morphed into a forced smile as soon as Aitana noticed your eyes on her.

You pulled her to a stop. “What is it, babe?”

“My feet are wet,” the Catalan whined.

Your eyes snapped to her feet. Your girlfriend was wearing her favorite and already pretty worn sneakers. It wasn’t really surprising that they weren’t able to withstand the rain anymore.

“Then let’s go back home,” you stated, already turning around and tugging Aitana’s hand to follow you.

“No, I don’t want to ruin this.”

You turned to face the midfielder again, cupping her cheek with your free hand.

“And I don’t want you to be miserable, or worse get sick. And anyway this is your not work day, so you should only do things you’re enjoying.”

Aitana nuzzled slightly into your palm, smiling up at you. “Okay, but I disagree, it’s our not work day.”

You walked back rapidly to your apartment and when you got there you sent the brunette to the bedroom with the instruction to change into something comfy and get rid of her wet socks.

“Don’t put on other ones though! I have something for you,” you added.

A few minutes later you met Aitana back at the couch, a cup of tea in one hand and the other one hidden behind your back. Your girlfriend craned her neck, trying to sneak a peek, but you didn’t allow it.

“Show meeeee,” the Catalan begged.

You followed the request, showing her the fluffy socks you had bought a while back. A huge smile spread across Aitana’s face as she saw them.

“They look so comfortable. Thank you! But how did you know I would need them?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I didn’t. I just bought them randomly for a not work day. It’s pure luck that you got wet feet today.”

“Or maybe this was all part of an elaborate evil plan to get me to undress my feet in front of you,” Aitana joked.

“You got me there. That’s why I raved about walks in the rain and that’s why I suggested it this morning. I even sabotaged your shoes,” you explained with a serious face.

Your girlfriend giggled happily. “I guess in that case you’ve earned the right to put on the new socks and give me a foot rub afterwards,” she said, sticking her feet out towards you.

“How generous of you!” You exclaimed, quickly putting on the fluffy socks.

Then you went to sit down next to Aitana to give her the requested foot rub, but you stopped in your tracks when you saw the midfielder glaring at you.

“Everything okay?” You asked uncertainly.

“No!” The brunette cried out, making your heart beat faster; what had you done wrong? “I need you to change into comfortable clothes as well. This doesn’t look like a good outfit to relax in.”

You looked down yourself and only now realized that you were still wearing jeans. “Oh, I guess you’re right.”

Before you got a change to move away, Aitana caught your hand and pulled you in for a kiss. “Sorry for scaring you. I didn’t realize it would actually make you anxious,” she apologized. “And now go, I need my girlfriend to warm me up.”

You were happy to oblige, hurrying to the bedroom.

“And can you bring the laptop back with you? I’m in the mood for some online shopping,” Aitana shouted after you.

You were happy to do so since it signified that your girlfriend had fully gotten into the swing of the not work day. It was always the same; in the beginning she didn’t know what she wanted to do, but as time progressed the midfielder became more attuned to her own desires that she so often put on the back burner.

On your return you handed Aitana the laptop before plopping down by her feet, taking them in your lap for the promised foot rub. You hadn’t even started yet, when your girlfriend let out a surprise “Oh”, pulling her feet back and scooting closer to you instead.

“What are these?” She asked, showing you the screen with your last internet search. It had completely slipped your mind what you had been looking at the day before.

“Dresses,” you offered up dryly.

“Yeah, I can see that. Any special occasion?” Aitana probed.

“You know the answer to that. It’s not every day you get to accompany your girlfriend to an award show for the best football players in the world,” you replied nervously; although you didn’t know why you felt nervous about this.

“Aw, I really appreciate that!” Your girlfriend cooed, her eyes flickering over the screen, “Can I help pick?”

You nodded; that had always been the plan. Since this was the first time you were going along as Aitana’s partner you wanted to look your best, so another opinion was definitely needed.

“Some of them are pretty expensive,” the Catalan mentioned carefully.

Money had always been a touchy subject between the two of you. Aitana had a lot more of it than you did; still you didn’t feel comfortable with constantly letting her pay, insisting that you took turns. The brunette wasn’t too happy about that, but by now you had found some middle ground, usually going to less expensive places when it was your turn to pay.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you dismissed Aitana’s concern, “And I want to look worthy of my girlfriend. You know she’s currently the best football player in the world?”

“You sound so proud of me.”

Atiana’s voice was oddly quit; it made you wonder if she doubted that you were proud of her. You thought back to the last few games and realized with a start that you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually said these words. This way worrying, especially considering your girlfriend had a hard time believing things unless she heard them over and over again.

“That’s because I am,” you responded firmly, vowing to do better.

“Even if it makes you anxious?” The brunette wondered.

You sighed, rubbing your face. “Let’s be honest, no matter what job you had, I would always be anxious about something. That’s the annoying thing about anxiety; it’ll always find something else to worry about.”

Aitana looked up at you hopefully, “So you don’t hate that I’m a footballer?”

“What? No, of course not! And I’m sorry if I made you feel like that,” you apologized.

“Well that’s good then,” your girlfriend announced, a smirk appearing on her face, “But hey, is working out issues even allowed on a not work day? Or did you just break your own rules?”

You rolled your eyes, “Of course it’s allowed and since they’re my rules, I can change them whenever I want.”

Aitana raised her eyebrows, fighting to keep her face neutral, “Oh really, is that how it works?”

“Yes,” you nodded sagely.

A devilish grin appeared on your girlfriend’s face, and too late you recognized your mistake.

“In that case I’m making my own rules as well and decide that I get to buy you this blue dress.” She pointed to the one that was your absolute favorite, but that was also firmly out of your price range.

“Aitana,” you groaned, “That’s not how it works!”

“Oh? If you can make up random rules, so can I,” the Catalan pointed out, daring you to disagree with her.

“That’s not the same at all. I don’t want you to spend money on my clothes,” you argued

“Why not? If you think about it, I’ll get to appreciate your dress much more than you. I can admire you in it all night long, and maybe I’ll even get to take if off of you. And this dress will look stunning on you; it will really bring out your eyes.”

“Fine”, you relented, making your girlfriend squeal happily. There was one more thing to say though, so you stopped Aitana’s over the top celebration with one hand. “But this means you can only get me something small for my birthday.

“Okay,” the midfielder agreed suspiciously quickly.

“And I mean that, Tana!” You doubled down.

Your girlfriend nodded, but seemed to be only half-listening, too busy adding the dress to your cart. You would just have to bring it up again when your birthday was closer because you wouldn’t be budging on that.

After Aitana successfully ordered the dress, she leaned back with a content sigh.

“I really love these not work days, you know?”

Your heart leapt happily at that concession. “Me too, babe.”

Sometimes you wished you got more of them, but maybe not having them all the time made them extra special.

#aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics

506 notes · View notes

jihyoruri · 6 months ago

Text

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ WINTER AND HER BAND GIRLFRIEND kim minjeong x reader

↳ warnings yn is apart of wave to earth, fluff, idol!au, yn is haerin’s older sister

𓇼꩜ jimin was the one who introduced her to wave to earth, minjeong personally thought the whole band was talented but there was something about the girls voice that always had her captivated, it was like she could put her sleep with how soft it sounded.

𓇼꩜ the day minjeong met yn from wave to earth was a pretty weird day, both her and yizhuo had finished filming a dance challenge with haerin and hanni from new jeans and were waiting with the two girls to get picked up from sm, making small talks with them but then something hanni said caught her attention.

𓇼꩜ “haerin actually has an older sister that’s an artist, the band is pretty popular.” what shocked minjeong even more was the fact that yizhuo actually did know, “yeah she’s apart of wave to earth right?” “what?!” “yeah she’s so cool, she’s actually picking us up.”

𓇼꩜ minjeong remembers how shocked she was at the fact that someone she was so close with was close to the person she had a small celebrity crush on.

𓇼꩜ when she came face to face with yn it felt like it was out of a movie, it wasn’t only her singing voice that was soft her speaking one was also, she was really captivating, she barely knew what to say when yizhuo outed her “winter unnie is actually a big fan of wave to earth, you’re her favourite.”

𓇼꩜ it was humiliating but it seemed like that whole day was just minjeong feeling shocked because yn surprisingly smiled and said that she was a big fan as well, she wished the conversation could’ve gone longer if it wasn’t for the fact that haerin’s social battery was low and she tugged on yn’s arm indicating that she was ready to go.

𓇼꩜ “give me your phone.” is what yizhuo said before snatching minjeong’s phone and going straight into instagram and dming yn, “what are you doing?!” “I’m doing you a favour.”

𓇼꩜ now everyday minjeong thanks yizhuo for snatching her phone from her.

the intoxicating smell of ripe peaches filled the entire apartment, mingling with the faint scent of rain drifting in through the slightly cracked window. minjeong perched on the kitchen island, her eyes following every graceful movement of her girlfriend. yn, with practiced ease, slid the freshly prepared peach pie into the preheated oven, a contented smile gracing her lips as she dusted the flour from her hands.

it was raining outside the rain becoming background noise along with the soft voice of frank ocean coming from yn’s record player, minjeong couldn't help but smile, captivated by the sight of yn swaying gently to the music, as yn hummed along, minjeong felt an overwhelming sense of peace and happiness wash over her.

she was definitely the most successful fangirl in the word.

"staring at me?" yn’s voice broke through minjeong's daze.

startled, minjeong blinked and refocused her gaze. yn stood before her, a playful, toothy grin lighting up her face, her sharp canines on full display. "you’re so obsessed with me," yn teased, a mischievous twinkle in her cat like eyes.

"shut up," minjeong grumbled, her cheeks flushing slightly as she tried to downplay her evident admiration. yn chuckled softly and moved closer, slipping between minjeong's legs as she sat on the island. she picked up a slice of peach from the counter, along with some other remnants of their pie-making adventure.

taking a bite of the peach, yn’s eyes never left minjeong's. the sweetness of the fruit mirrored the tenderness in her gaze. then, with a playful glint in her eye, she offered the remaining half to minjeong, gently pressing it against her lips until she took it into her mouth.

"I’m obsessed with you too," yn murmured, her voice soft and teasing, the words carrying a warmth that matched the cozy atmosphere around them.

"you know I’m not as obsessed as you make me out to be," minjeong mumbled, her gaze dropping low. she reached for the strings of the pajama shorts that hung low on yn’s hips, her fingers deftly tying them into a neat bow.

“oh really?”

“yeah, it wasn’t even me that texted you that one time it was ning,”

“then maybe I should go and give ning a fat kiss on her cheek as a thank you,” yn teases.

minjeong's eyes widened in surprise, her hands pausing mid-motion. the mere thought of yn kissing someone else, even as a joke, sent a jolt through her. her expression shifted from shock to playful indignation, a slight pout forming on her lips.

"you wouldn’t dare," she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and challenge. minjeong's hands resumed their gentle movements, her fingers brushing against yn’s hips as if to stake her claim.

yn laughed, "how about you set a timer for the pie, and I'll go pick out a movie for us to watch," she suggested, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

minjeong nodded, she slid off the island and made her way to the oven, the aroma of the baking pie growing stronger, as she carefully set the timer, she felt yn’s presence linger for a moment longer before she turned and padded towards the living room, only a few steps away.

"hey, when are you gonna go back to your dorms?" minjeong heard yn’s voice call out as she made her way over to where yn was sitting, comfortably nestled on the couch looking through netflix

minjeong settled next to her, a playful glint in her eyes as she responded, "never. I'm too obsessed with you."

#aespa #aespa x reader #winter x reader #winter aespa #winter #winter aespa x reader #aespa fluff #aespa imagines #girl group imagines #kim minjeong x reader #minjeong x reader #minjeong aespa

802 notes · View notes

meazalykov · 12 days ago

Text

money talks

sydney lohmann x rich!reader

summary: you spoil your footballer girlfriend

during a crisp autumn evening in munich, you’re scrolling through your phone, waiting for sydney to finish her post-match activities.

bayern just secured a solid 3-0 victory against hoffenheim, cool right? sydney played a huge role in the second goal with an assist that had you grinning like a fool in the stands.

you’ve never been one for modest celebrations, especially when it comes to her.

for you, victories..even the small ones..deserve to be rewarded, and you already know exactly how you’ll celebrate tonight.

your gaze drifts to the sleek black-and-gold box on the passenger seat of your car. inside are the limited-edition nike sneakers sydney mentioned in passing weeks ago..shoes that sold out within minutes of the drop.

it had taken some persistence, a couple of calls, and more money than you really care to admit, but they were worth it.

for her, everything is.

your parents built an empire from the ground up, starting with a chain of luxury hotels that expanded globally over the years.

when they passed away unexpectedly, they left everything to you..their only child...along with a massive inheritance and a portfolio of investments that ensured you could live comfortably for the rest of your life times ten.

though the wealth sometimes feels overwhelming, you’ve chosen to use it to make those you love happy, especially sydney, your girlfriend of four years.

a soft vibration pulls your attention back to your phone:

syd: done! meet me by the entrance?

smiling, you reply quickly, already starting the car to head toward her.

when you pull up, sydney is waiting with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her hair still damp from her shower. she flashes you a smile that’s brighter than any stadium lights, and it’s the kind of look that makes you wonder if she realizes how easily she could ask for the moon, and you’d find a way to get it.

“hey, babe,” she says, leaning in through the window to kiss you softly.

“you waited long?”

“never too long for you syd,” you reply, reaching over to unlock the door for her. as she slides into the seat, you try to contain your excitement about the gift, but your fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel, a small tell you know she’s noticed.

“what’s got you so excited?” she teases, tossing her bag into the backseat.

“you look like you’re up to something.”

you bite back a grin, shrugging in mock nonchalance.

“me? up to something? never.”

her eyes narrow playfully, but she lets it go for now, leaning back into the seat with a content sigh.

“i’m starving. can we grab something on the way home?”

“of course,” you say, already mentally planning her favorite takeout spot. but first, you know you can’t wait any longer. as you pull into a nearby parking lot, you reach for the box in the passenger seat, holding it out to her.

“before that, i got you something.”

her eyebrows raise as she glances at the box.

“y/n? again?? you didn’t have to—”

“i know,” you interrupt gently, sliding it onto her lap.

“but i wanted to. open it.”

sydney hesitates for a moment, looking at you like she’s trying to figure out how she ended up with someone so determined to spoil her. then she smiles, lifting the lid. syd’d eyes widen as she takes in the sneakers, and her mouth falls open slightly in shock.

“no way,” she breathes, pulling them out carefully.

“these are the ones i showed you! how did you even find these? they’ve been sold out for weeks.”

you shrug again, trying to downplay the effort it took.

“i have my ways.”

she laughs, shaking her head in disbelief.

“your ways are ridiculous. y/n, these must’ve cost a fortune.”

“and that’s okay,” you say simply, and the sincerity in your voice makes her pause, her expression softening.

“thank you,” she says quietly, leaning over to kiss you again, this time slower, deeper.

“i try,” you say with a grin, feeling your chest swell at her reaction.

“but wait, there’s more.”

she groans dramatically, though the smile on her face betrays her.

“more? y/n, you’re going to spoil me rotten.”

“that’s kind of the point,” you tease, pulling out a small velvet pouch from your bag.

“this is for the second goal of yours tonight!”

sydney’s eyes widen again as she opens the pouch to reveal a delicate gold bracelet, the kind that’s understated yet elegant—just like her. she stares at it for a moment before looking up at you, her voice soft.

“what the hell? this is just–”

“i know,” you say, taking her hand to help fasten the bracelet around her wrist. it catches the light perfectly, and the way she smiles at it makes every effort feel worth it.

as you finally pull out of the lot to grab dinner, sydney reaches over to intertwine her fingers with yours.

“you don’t have to keep buying me things, you know,” she says after a moment, her voice sincere.

“i just like being with you. that’s enough for me.”

“i know,” you reply, squeezing her hand.

“but this is how i show love. and i love you, syd. more than anything.”

she glances at you, her eyes shining.

“i love you too. even if you are rich and ridiculous.”

masterlist

#sydney lohmann #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen #sydney lohmann x reader

307 notes · View notes

simpforsolas · 2 months ago

Text

So my biggest problem with Solas x Mythal isn’t that I’m “jealous” of their relationship or anything like that. In fact, I really like the concept of her being a toxic and abusive relationship he has to let go of to be able to move forward and find true happiness with the inquisitor.

My problem is that it cheapens Solas’s motivations and seems to make his only reasoning for tearing down the veil be loyalty to Mythal. It also, to me, downplays the significance of the inquisitor’s influence on him. This was disappointing because in Inquisition, we were introduced to Solas as this very wise, idealistic, and thoughtful person who cared deeply for his causes. Justice for Mythal was one of his motivations, but I never interpreted it as his main motivation. I thought his main motivation was always to make a better world and fix his mistakes.

I truly believe that he’s not wrong about some things. The veil IS a wound inflicted on this world. It was made by him; it’s not the world’s natural state. It’s falling apart and broken. It creates a class divide between mages and non-mages, and by separating spirits from the physical realm, it makes them more susceptible to corruption into demons and makes people scared of them. There are tons of instances through DAO - DAI where weak spots in the veil lead to mass demon possessions and death. It made a world where elves die instead of live forever, and where they either live in slums or as shadows of their former glory in the woods. But DATV didn’t address ANY of this. It painted Solas to be this lovesick pup whose motivation was purely emotion-based, and it didn’t help that this game didn’t go into Thedas’s socio-political climate so a new player wouldn’t understand that the world of Thedas is seriously messed up, and that Solas’s plan would resolve a lot of the issues in need of fixing.

The problem is, and always has been, the cost. Solas restoring the natural order of the world would cost thousands of lives, and destroy the current world and all the good it has to offer. In order to abandon this plan, Solas needed to not only be released from Mythal’s service, but to let go of the world of the past. He needed to acknowledge that the world he loved is gone, that a new world that he also loves has taken its place, and that it deserves a chance to live. It’s sort of implied that he goes through this shift in belief in Trespasser, but it’s not enough at the time, and that’s okay.

Anyway, with all this in mind, this is how I’m choosing to interpret Solas’s entire redemption arc. Solas did have his reasons to tear down the veil that he passionately believed in, but through his interactions with the inquisitor and rook, the only reason that truly remained was that he didn't want to fail Mythal. They changed his perspective on the world, and showed him that it’s a world worth preserving, even if it’s different. He didn’t want to do what he had to do, and by the end of DAI and/or Veilguard, the only thing keeping him tied to his course was duty to Mythal. So she has to free him to allow him to move on.

However. If Mythal had released him from his service at the beginning of inquisition, because Solas hadn’t gained any affection for the new world, it wouldn’t have mattered. He would’ve been like "cool i'm doing this anyway because I want to.” Changing his course required two things: having his heart changed by the inquisitor, and Mythal allowing him to move on. Unfortunately I feel like the game is a little sloppy with this and makes it feel like freedom from Mythal is all that matters, but my dear friends, she is not. It was a team effort all around, and Solas’s redemption would not have been possible without our beloved inquisitor. 💜

#datv spoilers #solavellan #solas #mythal #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age meta

213 notes · View notes

brittle-doughie · 2 months ago

Note

Hear me out...

Poly relationship with Camellia Cookie and Golden Osmanthus Cookie with Y/N Cookie.

(The ship already grew on me as it was implied as the game progresses. Had a feeling that they might fight over Y/N Cookie.)

Not necessarily fight each other, but I could see them wanting to include you in their little circle. You could try to slow your pace and lag behind to give the two their moment, only for Golden Osmanthus Cookie to notice you distancing away.

———————————————————————

“Hm? Y/N Cookie, we’re sorry if we had left you out! You can join me and Camellia Cookie on the way back to the perfumery.”

No no, you were just going to head back to the inn and turn in for the night. Those two can go on without you-

“Is the inn not along the way to the perfumery? That lines up perfectly with our route.”

Oh right, you forgot! Well..you can’t exactly deny them at this rate!

Next thing you knew, the two were walking with you, Golden to your left and Camellia to your right. You were looking down at the ground as the two conversed with each other, part of you feeling like the awkward third wheel to this.

“So from what I’ve heard, you provided Golden Osmanthus Cookie hospitality despite meeting her in short time.”

Hm? O-Oh! Right, she came in by airship looking for a special fragrance to deal with her Cookievorous Plant problem. I wanted to make sure she had her own space to handle what she needed to do, so a Cookie House was built for her.”

“I’m still surprised you were willing to do that for me!”

“Me and my cookies aim to make everyone feel happy and right at home, even to new faces at the kingdom.”

“You even helped me make the Cookie House feel like home by setting it up, I’m still grateful for that, Y/N Cookie.”

“Just doing what I can to make sure you’re perfectly okay with where you were staying. It was the least I could do for a guest.”

“I can see Golden Osmanthus Cookie’s story was not off the mark with you, Y/N Cookie. Having just met her and yet you did all of that, you’re as kindhearted as she says.”

“I wouldn’t dwell on that so much, you know. Any ruler would’ve done the same for new guests.”

“Ha ha, don’t downplay yourself. It only reaffirms my beliefs about you when I first saw your eyes.”

“I’m really thankful for what you’ve done for me back in your kingdom. I don’t know how I could ever thank you for your hospitality…”

Were they getting closer to your sides? You feel like they were getting closer to your sides!

“O-Oh look, the inn is coming up here. I should head inside and turn in for the night..”

“Oh….”

“What?! We’ve already arrived?”

“Hey, it’s okay. We can meet each other tomorrow, right? I’m not going anywhere…”

“You’re right, we have tomorrow to go over things about the Divine Guardian. I’ll..see you tomorrow, Y/N Cookie.”

“Yes, Y/N Cookie. I hope to see you tomorrow too.”

“I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

You head inside the inn and into your room, laying on your bed as you take a breath, calming down your heart.

You swear those two were going to be the end of you with how close they were!

#brittle answers #cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom #golden osmanthus cookie #camellia cookie

232 notes · View notes

cheynovak · 3 months ago

Text

Just what I needed

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character

Summary: Y/N has a bad moment after a hunt. She text Dean for comfort.

Warnings: None.

English is not my first language

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

Y/N stared at her phone, her thumb hovering over the "Send" button. She knew she probably shouldn't, but the weight on her chest was suffocating. Before she could talk herself out of it, she hit send.

Y/N: *I could really use a hug right now.*

Her stomach immediately twisted with regret. What was she doing? She never did this—never let her walls down. And she definitely didn’t go running to Dean Winchester for comfort. She was tougher than that. At least, she tried to be.

A few moments passed before her phone buzzed with a reply.

Dean: *You okay?*

Her heart skipped a beat. Of course, he would be concerned. She never asked for help, never showed weakness. She started typing, trying to downplay the situation.

Y/N: *Yeah, I’m fine. Forget it. Long day, that’s all.*

She bit her lip, knowing Dean wouldn’t just forget it. He was Dean, after all.

Dean: *Don’t lie to me. What’s going on? You never ask for stuff like this.*

Her fingers hovered over the screen again. Damn it. Why did he have to see through her so easily?

Y/N: *Seriously, Dean, it’s no big deal. Just tired from the hunt. I’ll be fine. Really.*

Dean: *Be there in 10.*

Her eyes widened. Panic surged through her.

Y/N: *No, Dean, I’m fine! You don’t need to come over. I overreacted. *

But it was too late. She knew it. When Dean made up his mind, there was no stopping him.

Ten minutes later, she heard the rumbling sound of baby followed by a loud knock at the door, and the unmistakable sound of it swinging open with force.

"Y/N?" Dean called out, his voice filled with concern.

Before she could even think, she was moving—running to him. The moment she saw him standing in the doorway, her resolve crumbled. Without a word, she threw her arms around him, clinging to him as though he were the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Dean’s arms wrapped around her instantly, holding her tight. "Hey, I got you, sweetheart." he murmured into her hair, his voice soft, soothing. "It’s okay. I’m here."

Her face buried into his chest, and for the first time in a long while, Y/N let herself break. The tears she had been holding back for what felt like forever finally spilled over, soaking into Dean's flannel.

Dean just held her, one hand rubbing small circles on her back, the other resting securely around her shoulders. "You don’t always have to be strong, you know," he whispered. "It’s okay to let it out."

She shook her head against his chest, sniffling. "I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to make you come all the way here. I just... I don’t know what I was thinking."

"Don’t apologize," Dean said firmly, leaning back just enough to tilt her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "You had a crappy hunt. You needed a friend. You called me. That’s what I’m here for. You don’t have to do this alone, Y/N."

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. But as she stood there, wrapped in Dean’s warmth, she realized maybe—just maybe—she didn’t always have to be strong. At least, not when she had him.

And for now, that was enough.

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read!

@lmg14 @kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny @kamisobsessed @jensens-bonnie-on-the-side @ferrersbiggestfan @spxideyver @kamisobsessed @deans-queen @yvonneeeee @libby99hb

#jensen ackles #fanfic #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #fluff #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fandom #supernatural dean #supernatural #deanwinchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader

196 notes · View notes

makoodles · 2 years ago

Text

ミdaddy issues

part one | part two

🍓pairing: recom!miles quaritch x human fem reader

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

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, spare me.” Anjali mumbles sourly.

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

That’s when another voice cuts in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Panopyra.” You breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Fike that notices you first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, Quaritch speaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It poisonous?”

You hesitate a moment. “...No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You ask suspiciously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You go entirely ignored as the two soldiers roar boisterously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No!” You shriek, launching yourself forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geiszler creeps into the small workroom a few days later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geiszler nods awkwardly, looking distinctly guilty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next pause is much longer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That dildo. You ever use it?”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer the question.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck.” You squeak, eyes wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, you can’t help but snicker yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#no one look at me i'm so serious #miles quaritch #na'vi quaritch #quaritch x reader #recom quaritch #recom quaritch x reader #quaritch x human reader #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #awow #avatar 2 #na'vi x human #terato

4K notes · View notes

lila-lou · 9 days ago

Text

✨His second exception - Pt. 30/?✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, FLUFF

Word Count: 9308

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 30 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙

„I fed her”, Ben mumbled a little while later, his voice a mixture of gruffness and an unmistakable hint of pride. He moved to sit carefully on the edge of the bed, close enough that his broad frame seemed to take up all the space. He leaned back slightly, his arms crossing as though to downplay the weight of what he was saying. “Didn’t drop her, either”.

You couldn’t help the weak laugh that escaped your lips, though it came with a wince from the soreness in your chest. “You fed her?”, you asked softly, looking up at him with tired but amused eyes. “Did you… enjoy it?”.

He glanced at you, his lips twitching like he was trying to suppress a smirk. “I wouldn’t go that far”, he muttered, though the slight puff of his chest gave him away. “But I got the job done. She didn’t cry. Didn’t puke on me, either. So, yeah, I’d call it a win”.

Your smile widened, your fingers brushing against the baby’s soft cheek as she shifted slightly in your arms, letting out a tiny sigh.

“I’m proud of you”, you whispered, your voice soft and full of warmth as you looked up at Ben. Your tired eyes, so full of emotion, locked with his, and for a moment, he couldn’t look away. They were the same eyes that had always undone him—the ones that somehow made him feel seen in a way no one else ever had. Now, they were reflected in your daughter, and that connection hit him harder than he’d ever admit.

Ben’s jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He didn’t respond right away, didn’t deflect with a sarcastic remark or a muttered grumble like he usually would. Instead, something in his expression shifted, his tough exterior cracking just enough to let something softer show through.

Without a word, he leaned in, one large hand coming up to cup your face as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was warm and firm, yet careful, as though he was afraid to hurt you in your fragile state. It wasn’t hurried or dramatic—it was quiet, steady, and real, full of relief and the unspoken things he couldn’t put into words.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, his green eyes half-closed as he let out a quiet sigh. “You scared the shit outta me, you know that?”, he muttered, his voice low and rough, tinged with something that sounded suspiciously like vulnerability.

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing against his stubbled jaw. “I’m sorry”, you whispered.

Ben shook his head slightly, his lips brushing your forehead in a gesture so uncharacteristically tender it made your chest tighten. “Don’t”, he mumbled, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t apologize. You made it. That’s what matters”.

He pulled back just enough to look at you again, his gaze scanning your face like he was trying to commit every detail to memory. “I’m glad you made it out alive”, he said, his words gruff but weighted, spoken in the way only Ben could. “And not just ‘cause of her”. He glanced briefly at the baby in your arms, then back at you, his expression hard to read but undeniably sincere. “You’re tougher than anyone I’ve ever met, and… I can’t lose you. Not now. Not ever”.

Your throat tightened at his words, and all you could do was nod, your tears blurring your vision as you whispered, “I’m not going anywhere”.

“Damn right you’re not”, Ben muttered, his tone softening as his hand brushed against your cheek one last time. Then, with a faint smirk, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as if to shake off the moment. “But don’t think this means I’m letting you off easy. You’re still not lifting a damn finger until I say so”.

You laughed weakly, shaking your head as you looked down at your daughter. “Bossy as ever”.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line”, he shot back, though the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes betrayed the warmth behind his gruffness.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the hum of monitors and the soft breaths of your sleeping daughter, you felt a fragile but undeniable sense of peace. You had made it, against all odds. And with Ben by your side, you knew you could handle whatever came next. Together.

The hours passed slowly, but they felt oddly peaceful. You sat propped up in bed, your body still too weak to do much more than hold Aria while Ben stayed close by. The quiet moments felt surreal, the weight of your daughter in your arms grounding you even as your head swam with exhaustion. Your infusions continued to drip steadily, keeping you hydrated and stabilized, though the thought of real food or even water seemed impossible in your current state.

Breastfeeding had been the plan, something you’d looked forward to, but now the idea felt so distant. You knew it wasn’t an option—not yet. You felt a pang of disappointment, but Ben had quickly brushed off your worries earlier, muttering something about how the formula was “just fine” and that Aria was already thriving because of you. It was one of his gruff reassurances, the kind only he could pull off.

Eventually, the soft creak of the door announced Dr. Collins’ return. She stepped in with her clipboard, her usual composed demeanor softening when she saw you awake, holding your daughter. “Good to see you sitting up”, she said warmly as she approached the bed. “You’re looking much better”.

“Still feel like I got hit by a truck”, you replied, your voice hoarse but laced with humor. Ben snorted softly beside you, shaking his head.

Dr. Collins smiled, glancing at Aria as she moved closer. “Well, considering everything you’ve been through, I’d say you’re recovering remarkably well. And how’s she doing?”, she asked, gesturing to the tiny baby nestled in your arms.

“She’s…”, you paused, glancing down at the baby’s peaceful face. “Aria”, you corrected softly, looking back at Dr. Collins. “Her name is Aria”.

Dr. Collins nodded, her expression softening further. “Aria. A beautiful name for a strong little girl”.

Ben shifted slightly in his chair, his arms crossed, but his gaze flicked down to Aria, his lips pressing into a faint line as if trying to hide the swell of pride the name brought him.

“She’s healthy”, Dr. Collins continued, glancing at her clipboard. “She’s small, yes, but perfectly healthy. Her breathing is strong, her reflexes are normal, and all her initial tests came back clear”.

You let out a shaky breath of relief, your grip on Aria tightening slightly. “That’s all that matters”, you murmured.

Dr. Collins hesitated, her eyes flicking between you and Ben. “There is one thing I wanted to discuss”, she said carefully. “The blood tests we ran revealed that Aria has a significant amount of Compund V in her system”.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt Ben tense beside you. “What does that mean?”, you asked, your voice quiet but firm.

“At the moment”, Dr. Collins said quickly, “she’s showing no signs of powers or abnormalities. But with that level of V in her blood, it’s likely that she’ll develop abilities as she grows. We’ll monitor her closely, but for now, she’s stable. There’s no immediate concern”.

Ben’s jaw clenched, his green eyes narrowing as he glanced at Aria. “So, what, we’re supposed to just wait around and see if she… what? Shoots lasers out of her eyes? Flies off into the damn ceiling?”.

“Ben”, you said softly, your voice cutting through his frustration. He looked at you, his expression hard but quieting under your steady gaze. “She’s fine. She’s healthy. That’s what matters”.

Dr. Collins nodded in agreement. “Exactly. There’s no reason to worry at this stage. We’ll keep an eye on her development, but for now, she’s just a normal, healthy baby”.

Ben grunted, leaning back in his chair as he ran a hand through his hair. “Normal”, he muttered under his breath, though his gaze softened as it landed on Aria again. “Yeah, sure. Normal”.

You looked down at your daughter, her tiny fingers curling around your thumb as she shifted slightly in her sleep. “Thank you, Dr. Collins”, you said, your voice trembling with gratitude.

Dr. Collins gave a small smile. “You’re welcome. I’ll leave you all to rest, but I’ll be back to check on you later”.

As she left the room, the silence settled again, and Ben let out a long breath. He glanced at you, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Aria, huh?”.

You smiled weakly, brushing a finger across Aria’s cheek. “You picked it too”, you murmured.

Just as Ben’s faint smirk began to fade, Aria stirred in your arms, her little fists clenching softly as her mouth opened and closed in tiny, insistent motions. A faint whimper escaped her lips, signaling her hunger. You looked down at her, your heart swelling despite your exhaustion.

“She’s hungry”, you murmured, your voice filled with warmth and determination. You glanced at Ben, your tired eyes meeting his sharp green ones. “I want to feed her”.

Ben’s expression immediately hardened, his brows furrowing. “You’re too weak”, he said flatly, his arms crossing over his broad chest as he shook his head. “You can barely hold her, let alone feed her”.

“Ben, I’m her mom”, you said softly but firmly, the weight of your words making him falter. “I want to do this”.

He huffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yeah, and I’m the one who’s been making sure you stay alive”, he muttered. “You’re not gonna keel over just because you feel like playing mom right now. Let me do it”.

You glared at him, though the exhaustion in your body made it less effective than usual. “Ben, I’m not asking”, you said, your voice trembling slightly but full of resolve. “She’s my daughter, and I want to feed her. Now, please, ring for the nurse”.

Ben clenched his jaw, his gaze flicking between you and Aria as she whimpered again, her little hands curling tighter. He let out a frustrated sigh before standing and pressing the call button on the wall. “Fine”, he grumbled, his tone clipped. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you pass out mid-bottle”.

A few moments later, the nurse entered the room, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to Ben’s simmering irritation. “She’s hungry”, you said, offering a small, tired smile. “Could you please bring us some formula?”.

“Of course”, the nurse replied with a nod, quickly leaving to retrieve the bottle.

Ben leaned against the wall, his arms still crossed as he watched you with a mix of exasperation and concern. “You’re stubborn as fuck, you know that?”, he muttered, his voice low.

“Wonder where I got it from”, you shot back, giving him a faint smile that made his lips twitch despite himself.

The nurse returned with the bottle, handing it to you carefully. “Here you go”, she said softly, adjusting your pillows to give you more support. “Take your time, and let me know if you need help”.

“Thank you”, you said, your voice full of gratitude as you shifted Aria slightly in your arms, cradling her closer. Her tiny mouth found the bottle instinctively, latching on and beginning to feed with quiet, contented sounds.

Ben stayed silent, his sharp eyes watching your every move as though he expected you to collapse at any moment. But as you held Aria and fed her, a calmness washed over you, the bond between you and your daughter palpable in the quiet room.

“I told you I could do it”, you murmured after a while, glancing up at Ben with a triumphant smile.

He snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah”, he muttered, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re still not doing anything else. Feeding her’s all you get for now”.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, your focus returning to Aria as she continued to drink. Ben’s gaze softened as he watched the two of you, his irritation melting away as he leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the edge of the bed.

“You’re lucky she’s got your guts”, he said quietly, his voice rough but filled with a strange mix of pride and affection. “Kid’s already a fighter. Just like her mom”.

You looked up at him, your smile softening. “And her dad”, you whispered.

Ben didn’t respond, but the faint glimmer in his eyes said enough.

As the time came for Aria’s first diaper change and a fresh set of clothes—a soft onesie you’d picked out weeks ago, back when everything seemed simpler—you glanced up at Ben. You knew you were pushing it, but you couldn’t help yourself. “I want to do it”, you said softly, your voice tinged with a quiet plea.

Ben turned to you, his sharp green eyes narrowing immediately. “No fucking way”, he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You can barely sit up without looking like you’re about to keel over. Feeding her was enough. This? No. Not fucking happening”.

“Ben, I—”.

“No”, he growled, cutting you off. “You’re not moving a damn inch. Got it?”.

You sighed, biting back the urge to argue further. You could see the tension in his jaw, the protective edge in his tone. As frustrating as it was, you knew he wasn’t going to budge.

Moments later, the nurse entered the room, carrying the supplies needed for Aria’s diaper change. She gave you a kind smile before turning to Ben. “Alright, Dad”, she said, her tone upbeat. “You’re up”.

Ben’s eyes widened slightly as he straightened up, his hands going to his hips. “Me? The fuck do you mean, I’m up?”, he asked, glaring at the nurse as though she’d just insulted him.

The nurse smiled patiently, setting the supplies down on the foot of the bed. “You wanted her mom to rest, right?”, she said, raising an eyebrow. “That means it’s your turn. Don’t worry—I’ll guide you through it”.

Ben shot you a look, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “You’re really gonna make me do this?”, he muttered, though there was no real venom in his tone.

You smirked, leaning back against the pillows. “Your turn to shine… Dad”.

He grumbled something under his breath but moved to the foot of the bed, rolling up his sleeves like he was about to go into battle. The nurse handed him a clean diaper and some wipes, her tone cheerful as she began explaining the steps.

“Alright, first, you’ll need to undo her onesie and take off the old diaper”, she said, gesturing to Aria.

Ben hesitated, his large hands moving awkwardly as he fumbled with the tiny snaps on Aria’s onesie. “Christ, who makes these things so fucking small?”, he muttered.

As Ben finally managed to get the tiny onesie unsnapped and peeled off, he froze, staring down at Aria’s naked, squirming form. He let out a sharp snort, his lips twitching as he muttered, “She looks like a damn chicken”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite your exhaustion, the sound weak but genuine. “Ben!”, you said, a hint of scolding in your tone. “She’s a baby, not a chicken”.

He raised an eyebrow at you, then gestured toward Aria’s skinny little limbs and the way she wiggled, her tiny fists flailing in the air. “Look at her”, he said, his tone dry. “She’s got these scrawny legs, no meat on her bones. I’m just saying it like it is”.

The nurse stifled a laugh, shaking her head as she handed Ben a wipe. “Well, this little ‘chicken’ is your daughter, and she’s looking like she´s supposed to", she said, her tone light. “Now, focus. You’ve got a job to do”.

Ben rolled his eyes but returned his attention to the task at hand. He peeled back the old diaper, grimacing slightly as he got his first real look. “Alright, I take it back”, he muttered. “She’s not a chicken. She’s a little grenade. A fucking messy one”.

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh too hard. “Welcome to parenthood”, you teased.

Ben shot you a look but didn’t respond, instead taking the wipe and holding it awkwardly. The nurse guided him step by step, her voice calm and encouraging. “Always wipe from front to back”, she reminded him.

He froze, turning to you with an incredulous look. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”.

“It means don’t mess it up, Ben”, you said with a smirk. “It’s to avoid infections”.

He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Of course it’s complicated", before carefully wiping Aria, his massive hands moving with an unexpected gentleness. “Front to back”, he mumbled to himself, like he was committing it to memory.

When he was finished, the nurse handed him a clean diaper. “Now, slide this under her, fold it up, and secure the tabs. Snug, but not too tight”.

Ben had already pinched Aria’s tiny wrist gently between his thumb and forefinger, clearly intending to lift her up as though she were a doll, when the nurse quickly intervened.

“Whoa, no!”, she said, her voice firm but not unkind. She stepped forward, putting a hand out to stop him. “You don’t lift her like that. You need to support her back and neck”.

Ben froze, blinking at the nurse with a mix of confusion and irritation. “Well, how the fuck am I supposed to get the damn diaper under her, then?”, he muttered, glancing down at Aria, who squirmed blissfully unaware of her father’s struggle.

The nurse smiled patiently, demonstrating with her hands. “Here, let me show you. Slide one hand under her bottom, and your other hand under her back, like this. Then gently lift her just enough to slip the diaper underneath”.

Ben huffed, muttering something under his breath about “overcomplicated baby engineering”, but he followed her instructions, his large hands carefully cradling Aria’s fragile form. He lifted her with surprising gentleness, her tiny body barely moving as he slid the fresh diaper into place beneath her.

“There you go”, the nurse said encouragingly. “Now, lower her back down and secure the tabs”.

Ben did as instructed, his movements slightly awkward but undeniably careful. He fastened the tabs with a bit too much force at first, but the nurse quickly corrected him, guiding his hands to adjust the fit. When he was finally done, he leaned back, crossing his arms and looking down at his work with a critical eye.

“She doesn’t look like she’s about to fall apart”, he muttered. “Guess I didn’t screw it up”.

The nurse chuckled. “You did great. Now, let’s get her dressed”.

Ben groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he picked up the tiny onesie you’d chosen for Aria. “I’m starting to think babies were designed just to make adults look stupid”, he grumbled, holding up the onesie like it was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Arms first, then legs”, the nurse said, smiling as she stepped back to let him work.

Ben sighed, his brows furrowing as he carefully maneuvered Aria’s tiny arms into the sleeves. His large hands fumbled slightly with the delicate fabric.

But the real problem came when it was time to deal with Aria’s legs. Her tiny limbs were scrunched up tightly against her body, as if she was perfectly content staying in her curled-up position. Ben stared down at her, his expression a mix of frustration and confusion.

“She’s like a damn pretzel”, he muttered, glancing at the nurse for guidance. “How the fuck am I supposed to get her legs in this thing if she won’t cooperate?”.

The nurse stifled a laugh, stepping closer to offer some advice. “That’s normal for newborns”, she said gently. “They’re used to being curled up in the womb. Just be gentle, and don’t force her legs straight. Guide them into the onesie one at a time”.

Ben sighed heavily, before he carefully held one of Aria’s tiny feet, his massive hand dwarfing her delicate limb, and tried to guide it into the onesie’s leg opening. The fabric bunched up awkwardly, and Ben growled in frustration.

“She’s fighting me”, he grumbled, shooting a glare at Aria as if she was doing it on purpose. “This kid’s got her mom’s stubbornness already”.

You couldn’t help but laugh weakly from the bed, watching the scene unfold. “She’s not fighting you, Ben”, you said, your voice soft but amused. “She’s just… tiny. And new to all of this”.

“Yeah, well, she’s winning”, he muttered, finally managing to get one of her legs into the onesie. He moved on to the other, his hands surprisingly steady despite his gruff demeanor. “This better get easier, or I’m hiring someone to do this part”.

The nurse chuckled. “You’re doing fine”, she reassured him. “It’ll get easier with practice”.

“Yeah, practice”, Ben grumbled. “Can’t fucking wait for that”.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to get Aria’s second leg into the onesie. He adjusted the fabric carefully, making sure it wasn’t twisted or bunched, and then fastened the tiny snaps with a level of concentration that would have been comical if it weren’t so endearing.

“There”, he said, leaning back to survey his work. “She’s dressed. And still alive”.

The nurse smiled warmly. “You did great, Dad. She looks very comfortable”.

Ben snorted, crossing his arms as he glanced down at Aria, who was now squirming contentedly in her fresh diaper and onesie. “She’d better be”, he muttered. “I just wrestled a chicken-sized octopus to make it happen”.

You let out a quiet laugh, your heart swelling as you watched him. “You’re a natural”, you said softly, your voice full of affection.

Ben turned to you, his green eyes softening slightly as he smirked. “Damn right I am”, he said gruffly. “But don’t think this means you’re off the hook. You’re taking over as soon as you can sit up without looking like you’re gonna pass out”.

“We’ll see”, you teased, leaning back against the pillows as you watched him pick up Aria with surprising gentleness. He cradled her in his arms, his expression softening as he looked down at her tiny face.

For a moment, the room was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the monitors. You could see the pride in Ben’s eyes, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. He was figuring this out, one step at a time—and somehow, you knew he was going to be a great dad.

It started as a slight sniffle, but within moments, your emotions overwhelmed you. Tears began streaming down your face, and before you knew it, you were sobbing uncontrollably. You couldn’t hold it back, your chest heaving as you watched Ben holding Aria against his chest. The sight of him, so strong and rough around the edges, cradling your impossibly tiny daughter with such care—it was too much.

Ben’s head snapped toward you, his expression immediately shifting to one of alarm. “The hell’s wrong now?”, he asked, his voice sharp but edged with concern. “Did I do something? Did she do something?”.

You shook your head, unable to get any words out through your sobs. You tried to wipe at your face, but the tears just kept coming. “No—no, it’s… it’s just…”, you stammered, your voice breaking as you tried to explain. “It’s you. And her. And this. I can’t…”.

Ben blinked at you, his green eyes wide as he processed your words. For a moment, he looked like he might bolt, the sheer weight of your emotions clearly throwing him off. “Oh, for fuck’s sake”, he muttered under his breath, shifting Aria slightly in his arms as he stood awkwardly by the bed. “It’s the hormones, right? Collins said this would happen”.

You nodded, still sobbing as you reached out a hand toward him, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. “You’re so… you’re so good with her”, you choked out. “I didn’t think you’d be so—so perfect”.

Ben’s face flushed slightly, and he glanced down at Aria as if to deflect from your words. “Yeah, well”, he muttered, his voice gruff. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still figuring this shit out”.

But even as he tried to brush it off, you saw the way his arms tightened slightly around Aria, the way he glanced back at you with something softer in his eyes. He stepped closer to the bed, lowering himself into the chair beside you as you continued to cry.

“Christ”, he muttered, his tone softer now as he looked down at you. “You’re a fucking mess”.

“I know”, you wailed, covering your face with your hands. “I can’t help it”.

Ben sighed, shaking his head as he leaned forward slightly, holding Aria against his chest with one hand while his other hand reached out to brush against yours. “Hey”, he said, his voice low but steady. “It’s alright. You’re allowed to cry. Just don’t drown the fucking kid in tears, alright?”.

You let out a watery laugh, wiping at your face as you tried to calm down. “I’m sorry”, you whispered. “It’s just… seeing you with her, it’s everything”.

Ben huffed, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Don´t go writing me a damn poem about it”, he said, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. He looked down at Aria, his expression softening as she shifted slightly against him, her tiny hand brushing against his chest. “But I guess… she’s not so bad. For a chicken”.

That made you laugh again, a weak but genuine sound that cut through the haze of your emotions. “She’s not a chicken, Ben”, you said, your voice trembling but warm.

“She’ll always be a little chicken”, he muttered, glancing back at you. His green eyes held a rare warmth, the kind he usually kept hidden. “And you’re gonna be fine. Both of you”.

It wasn’t even 7 in the morning when Ben stirred beside you. His eyes were still closed, his body heavy with the kind of exhaustion only a few hours of sleep could bring, but his supe hearing had already kicked in. He caught the faint murmur of voices outside your hospital room—familiar ones.

“Is this the right room? They said it was this one, didn’t they?”, your mother’s voice carried through the corridor, a mix of excitement and nerves.

“I don’t want to barge in”, your father replied, though his tone betrayed the eagerness he was trying to hide. “But I’ll be damned if we wait any longer to see her and that baby”.

Ben groaned low in his throat, his arm tightening instinctively around you as he let out a muttered curse. “Your parents”, he grumbled, his voice rough with sleep. “Of course, they’re here already”.

You blinked awake slowly, your body still aching and weak, but your mind sharpening as you processed his words. “My parents?”, you mumbled, trying to sit up. “Already?”.

Ben cracked one eye open, his expression deadpan. “It’s barely sunrise, and they’re out there like it’s fucking Christmas morning”.

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows as you tried to summon the energy to face them. “They’re excited. They’ve been waiting for this as much as we have”.

Ben snorted, shifting slightly in the bed to sit up. “Yeah, well, they could’ve waited until after I’d had more than three hours of sleep”.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling at the sight of him so grumpy and yet so protective. “Do you want to let them in, or should I?”.

Ben grumbled something unintelligible before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll get it”, he muttered. “Might as well make sure they don’t wake up half the damn hospital”.

He stood, running a hand through his messy hair as he made his way to the door. The sight of him— shirt rumpled from sleeping beside you, his usual tough exterior softened by the exhaustion of the past few days—made your chest tighten. He looked like a man who’d been through hell and back, but also like someone who’d fight that battle all over again if it meant keeping you and Aria safe.

Ben opened the door, his broad frame filling the doorway as he leaned against it, arms crossed. “You couldn’t wait a couple more hours?”, he said gruffly, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at your parents.

Your mother’s face lit up immediately, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she ignored his tone entirely. “Oh, Ben! Is she awake? Can we see her? How’s the baby?”.

Your father cleared his throat, clearly trying to keep things more composed. “Good to see you”, he said, though his gaze kept darting past Ben, trying to catch a glimpse of you inside the room.

Ben sighed, stepping aside to let them in. “Yeah, yeah, come on in”, he muttered. “But keep it down. She’s still recovering”.

The moment your parents stepped into the room, your mother rushed to your side, her hands flying to her mouth as she took in the sight of you. “Oh, sweetheart”, she said, her voice trembling. “You look so pale. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”.

You smiled weakly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I’m okay, Mom. Just tired”.

Your father stood back slightly, his expression softer but no less emotional. “And the baby?", he asked, his voice quiet but full of anticipation.

“She’s perfect”, you said, your smile widening. “They kept her in the recovery room overnight to make sure she’s okay, but she’s healthy. She’s amazing”.

Ben leaned against the wall, watching the interaction with his usual mix of aloofness and quiet observation. Your mother turned to him suddenly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she put her hands on her hips. “And you”, she said, her tone sharp but affectionate. “You’ve been taking care of them, haven’t you?”.

Ben raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “What do you think?”, he said dryly, though his voice held no real edge.

Your mother softened immediately, stepping forward to give him a hug he clearly wasn’t prepared for. “Thank you”, she said quietly. “For being here. For everything”.

Ben froze for a moment, his arms hovering awkwardly before he patted her back stiffly.

Ben stiffly endured your mother’s hug, his hand patting her back awkwardly before she pulled away, her eyes glistening with emotion. He glanced over at you, his green eyes narrowing slightly, silently warning you not to say anything about what had really happened. You’d agreed—your parents didn’t need to know how close you’d come to not making it.

Your father stepped closer to you, his eyes scanning your face, then flicking briefly to Ben as if gauging how things had really been. “You said it was complicated”, he said carefully, his tone neutral but laced with concern. “But… you’re okay now? You sure?”.

“I’m okay, Dad”, you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “It was just… a lot. But the doctors were incredible. And Ben…”. You glanced over at him, your smile faint but warm. “Ben’s been here the whole time”.

Ben snorted quietly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Yeah, well, not like I had anywhere better to be”, he muttered, his gruff tone doing little to hide the truth.

Your mother sat down on the edge of the bed, taking your other hand in hers. “You should’ve called us sooner”, she said, her voice trembling slightly. “If things were that complicated, we could’ve—”.

“We didn’t want to worry you”, you interrupted gently. “And it all happened so fast. There wasn’t really time”.

Your father frowned slightly but nodded, clearly still uneasy. “What kind of complications?”, he pressed. “You didn’t say much in your texts”.

You hesitated, your eyes flicking to Ben for support. He caught the look and straightened, his expression hardening slightly as he stepped forward. “The kind that aren’t worth dredging up now”, he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “She’s fine. The kid’s fine. That’s what matters”.

Your father’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t push further, his gaze shifting back to you. “As long as you’re okay”, he said quietly. “That’s all we care about”.

Your mother nodded quickly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And you’ll tell us if anything else comes up, won’t you?”, she asked, her voice full of worry.

“Of course”, you said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “But we’re really okay now. I promise”.

Ben’s sharp green eyes shifted toward the door, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something in the distance. He smirked faintly, his arms still crossed over his chest. “Oh, here comes the chicken”, he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Your father frowned, clearly confused. “What chicken?”, he asked, glancing between you and Ben. “What’s he talking about?”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking your head. “He calls Aria his little chicken”, you explained, your voice full of affection. “It’s his… nickname for her”.

Your mother blinked, her mouth dropping open slightly as she looked at Ben. “You call her a chicken?”, she asked, her tone hovering between disbelief and amusement. “That’s what you’re going with?”.

Ben shrugged, completely unfazed. “She’s tiny, squirmy, and she looks like one of those grill chickens when she’s all curled up”, he said gruffly. “Fits, doesn’t it?”.

Your father looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or question Ben’s sanity, but before anyone could respond further, there was a soft knock at the door. Ben turned toward it just as a nurse peeked in, pushing a small bassinet into the room.

“Someone’s ready to come back to her mom and dad”, the nurse said with a warm smile, her hands gently maneuvering the bassinet into position beside your bed.

Your heart swelled at the sight of Aria, bundled snugly in a soft blanket, her tiny face barely visible beneath the swaddling. She was peaceful, her chest rising and falling with steady little breaths. You felt a lump rise in your throat, the overwhelming love you felt for her making it hard to speak.

Your mother gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, she’s beautiful”, she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Look at her”.

Your father stepped closer, his usually reserved demeanor breaking as he leaned over the bassinet. “She’s so small”, he murmured, his voice full of awe. “But perfect”.

Ben moved to stand beside the bassinet, his broad frame towering over it as he glanced down at Aria. His expression softened, though he quickly masked it with a snort. “Told you”, he said, glancing at your father. “Chicken”.

Your father gave him a bewildered look, but before he could say anything, the nurse lifted Aria from the bassinet and handed her carefully to you. “Here you go, Mom”, she said gently. “She had a great night. Everything looks perfect”.

You cradled Aria against your chest, tears brimming in your eyes as you looked down at her tiny face. She stirred slightly, letting out a soft, contented sigh, and your heart felt like it might burst.

“She’s perfect”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “Absolutely perfect”.

Your mother leaned closer, her hand brushing lightly against Aria’s blanket. “She looks just like you when you were a baby”, she said softly.

Your father hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly as he glanced between you, Ben, and Aria. There was something cautious in his tone as he finally asked, “Anything… strange so far?”.

You froze for a moment, your breath catching as you looked up at Ben. The question lingered heavily in the air, and you saw Ben’s jaw tighten briefly before he rolled his eyes, letting out a low grumble.

“She didn’t laser-eye the fucking nurses, if that’s what you’re asking”, he said dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. “No flying off the bassinet, no glowing hands, no weird suped-up baby antics. Happy now?”.

Your father blinked, clearly startled by Ben’s bluntness, but your mother gave him a sharp look. “Oh, for heaven’s sake”, she said, her voice laced with exasperation. “We weren’t accusing her of anything, Ben. It’s just… with everything, you know…”. She gestured vaguely toward you and then back to Aria, her voice softening. “We’re just trying to understand”.

Ben snorted, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to understand. She’s fine. Just a regular, squirmy, chicken-sized kid”. His green eyes flicked to you, softening slightly as he added, “Right now, anyway”.

You gave him a faint smile, your fingers brushing against Aria’s soft cheek as you cradled her closer. “She’s healthy”, you said gently, looking back at your parents. “That’s all that matters right now. She’s just a baby”.

Your father nodded slowly, though his gaze lingered on Aria with quiet curiosity. “And if that changes?”, he asked, his voice steady but serious. “If she does… you know, show signs of something?”.

Ben sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “If that happens, we’ll deal with it”, he said firmly. “Not like we’ve got a choice, do we? But for now, she’s just a kid. No reason to make a big deal out of nothing”.

“Well, you might be bulletproof, but that doesn’t count for my daughter”.

Ben’s sharp green eyes snapped to your father, narrowing slightly as his jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, he asked, his voice low, edged with warning.

Your father didn’t flinch, though he glanced briefly at you before answering. “It means”, he said carefully, “that if Aria develops some… abilities, and something goes wrong, it’s not you who’ll get hurt. It’s my daughter”.

“Dad”, you said softly, trying to cut through the growing tension, but Ben spoke over you.

Ben’s jaw twitched, but instead of snapping back like you expected, he took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He ran a hand through his messy hair, then turned his intense green gaze on your father, his tone calm but firm.

“She won’t hurt her”, he said quietly, yet the conviction in his voice filled the room. “I won’t let that happen”.

Your father’s brow furrowed, his skepticism evident, but Ben held his ground, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I know what you’re thinking”, Ben continued, his voice steady. “You think because I’ve got a history, because I’ve been on the wrong side of this shit, I don’t know what it’s like to protect people. To protect her”. He glanced at you, his expression softening briefly before his eyes returned to your father. “But you’re wrong. I know exactly what’s at stake. And no matter what happens with Aria—whether she’s got powers or not—I’ll make damn sure she’s in control. And that no one gets hurt”.

Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though weighing Ben’s words carefully. “And how can you be so sure?”, he asked. “What if something happens that you can’t stop?”.

Ben didn’t waver. “Then I’ll figure it out”, he said firmly. “I’ve been around long enough to know how to handle supes, how to deal with powers. And more than that, I’ll teach her. If she has abilities, she’s gonna learn how to control them, how to use them if she has to—but never to hurt the people she loves”.

You swallowed hard, your heart swelling at the unexpected vulnerability in Ben’s words. He wasn’t just making promises—he was laying down a foundation for how he’d protect your family, no matter what.

“And as for your daughter”, Ben added, his gaze flicking to you with a softness that made your chest tighten, “nothing’s gonna happen to her. Not while I’m here. I won’t let it”.

Your father studied him for a long moment, his expression still skeptical but not as hard as before. Finally, he nodded slowly. “Alright”, he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll hold you to that”.

Ben snorted softly, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “You can try”, he muttered. “But I don’t break promises”.

Your mother, who had been watching the exchange silently, stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on your father’s arm. “I think we all want the same thing”, she said softly, her eyes darting to you and Aria. “To protect her. And to make sure she grows up happy and safe”.

“She will”, you said, your voice trembling slightly as you looked down at your daughter.

Eventually, the tension in the room eased, and the atmosphere grew lighter. Your father seemed to relax a bit, though you could still see the lingering concern in his eyes. Ben leaned back against the wall, watching everything closely, his arms still crossed but his posture less rigid.

When the nurse brought in a tray of food for you, it became clear that sitting up was going to be a challenge. You felt the weakness in your body, but you were determined to try. Ben stepped forward, his instinctive protectiveness kicking in as he prepared to help.

But before he could, your father spoke up. “Let me help her”, he said, his voice quiet but steady.

Ben hesitated, his sharp green eyes flicking to you, then back to your father. For a moment, you thought he might argue, but then he stepped back, nodding slightly. “Fine”, he muttered. “Just don’t drop her”.

Your father shot him a look but didn’t respond, turning his attention to you instead. “Alright, honey”, he said softly, moving to your side. “Let’s take it slow”.

Ben hovered nearby, his gaze tracking every movement as your father carefully helped you shift upright. It took a few tries—your body still felt like it was made of lead—but with your father on one side and Ben subtly steadying you from the other, you managed to sit up. Your head spun slightly, and you felt your father’s grip tighten.

“You okay?”, he asked, his voice full of worry.

“I’m okay”, you said, your voice trembling slightly but full of determination. “Just… dizzy”.

“Let’s try to get you eating”, he said, picking up the tray and setting it in front of you.

Meanwhile, your mother sat on the other side of the room, holding Aria. The baby was bundled snugly in her arms, her tiny face peaceful and serene. Your mother’s eyes were bright with wonder as she rocked her gently. “She’s incredible”, she whispered, glancing at you with a soft smile. “You did good, sweetheart”.

You managed a few small bites, the warm food helping you feel a bit steadier, though your body still felt like it was moving in slow motion. You were hyper-aware of Ben in the room, standing near the wall but with his sharp eyes locked on your mother and Aria. His usual confidence seemed tempered with something quieter—protectiveness, perhaps, or the unease of trusting someone else with his daughter.

You glanced at him as you took another small bite, watching his hands twitch subtly at his sides. It was barely noticeable, but you caught it every time your mom shifted Aria in her arms—pulling the blanket higher, adjusting her tiny hat, or rocking her gently. Every movement seemed to set off some internal alarm in Ben, and though he didn’t move closer, you could see the restraint in his posture.

“Ben”, you said softly, your voice pulling his attention. He raised an eyebrow, his arms crossing tightly over his chest as he looked at you. “She’s fine”.

“I know”, he muttered, though his gaze flicked back to your mother almost instantly, his jaw tightening. “I just don’t like other people… handling her”.

Your father smirked slightly as he adjusted the tray in front of you. “She’s her grandmother”, he said lightly, though his voice held a hint of teasing. “Not exactly ‘other people’”.

Ben shot him a glare, but it lacked his usual bite. “Doesn’t mean I trust her not to drop the chicken”, he grumbled.

“Ben!”, you said, laughing softly despite your exhaustion. “My mom raised me just fine. I think she knows how to hold a baby”.

Ben raised an eyebrow at you, his lips twitching into a faint smirk as he muttered under his breath, “Think she might’ve dropped you a few times too often, though”.

“Ben!”, you exclaimed, though your voice was laced with laughter, your tired body shaking slightly from the effort. “That’s my mom you’re talking about”.

He shrugged, the smirk still lingering as he leaned casually against the wall. “I’m just saying, explains a few things”.

Your mother, who had clearly caught his muttering despite the low tone, turned her head to glare at him, though her lips twitched in amusement. “I heard that”, she said pointedly. “And for the record, I never dropped her. Not once”.

“Not once?”, Ben asked, his tone skeptical as he pushed off the wall and sauntered a step closer. His green eyes glinted mischievously, and he gestured toward you. “Not even when she was squirming around like a little chicken? Seems unlikely”.

Your mother arched an eyebrow, refusing to take the bait. “Not once”, she repeated firmly, her tone prim.

Ben’s smirk grew a fraction as he crossed his arms once more. “Funny”, he muttered toward your mom, “I had you pegged as the clumsy type. Always dropping my coffee or bumping into desks back in the day”.

Your mother froze for a moment, her mouth dropping open slightly in disbelief before she composed herself. “Excuse me?”, she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “I did not drop coffee, thank you very much. And that was a long time ago”.

Your dad snorted loudly, clearly unable to hold back. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Oh, come on, sweetheart”, he teased, his grin widening. “You did it on purpose half the time. You were just trying to piss him off. You always said he deserved it for giving Monica all the pay raises and the easy jobs”.

Your mother’s cheeks flushed, but there was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she glanced at Ben. “Well”, she said, her voice dry, “I wasn’t wrong, was I? Monica was your favorite, after all”.

“Monica was good at her job”, he said defensively, though the edge in his voice was mild. “Most of the time”.

“Right”, your dad said, still chuckling. “Good at her job—or good at stroking your ego? Because from what I remember, the only thing Monica excelled at was making you feel… like the king of the tower”.

The atmosphere shifted slightly, but instead of turning tense, it remained surprisingly light. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound raspy but genuine. “I think you’ve been caught, Ben”, you teased, your voice weak but amused.

Ben’s smirk returned, sharper now, as he leaned a little closer, his green eyes glinting with his signature boldness. “I bet now everyone’s glad it was Monica and not you, huh?”, he said casually, his voice dripping with dry humor. “Would’ve been a little awkward if I’d first fucked you and then ended up with your daughter”.

The room went completely silent, the weight of his words landing like a bomb.

Your mother’s jaw dropped, her face flushing a deep crimson as she stared at him, utterly speechless. Your father blinked, his expression frozen somewhere between shock and disbelief.

“Ben!”, you exclaimed, your voice a mixture of horror and strained laughter. Despite how exhausted you were, you managed to swat weakly in his direction. “Oh my God, you can’t just say that!”.

“What?”, Ben replied, shrugging innocently, though the smug grin spreading across his face betrayed him. “I’m just saying. Could’ve been a lot messier”.

Your mother finally found her voice, though it came out as more of a strangled squeak. “That is not something you joke about!”.

Your dad, however, broke the silence with a deep, booming laugh, leaning back in his chair as he slapped his knee. “Well, he’s not wrong”, he said, grinning as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Would’ve made for one hell of a family reunion”.

Your mother turned her glare to your father now, smacking his arm. “Don’t encourage him!”, she snapped, though her indignation was starting to crack under the sheer absurdity of the situation.

You buried your face in your hands, groaning loudly. “I can’t believe this is my life”. you mumbled, though there was a faint laugh hidden in your voice.

Your mother threw her hands up in exasperation, her glare darting between you and Ben. “Why is he like this?!”, she asked, her voice full of disbelief. Then, without waiting for an answer, she turned to Ben, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you like this?”.

Ben, entirely unfazed, smirked as he stepped forward, wiggling his fingers dramatically. “C’mon, it’s feeding time”, he said, his voice dripping with mock impatience. “Gimme my daughter”.

Your mother raised a brow, her grip on Aria tightening slightly as she rocked the baby against her chest. “Oh no, I don’t think so”, she said dryly. “You tainted mine; it’s only fair I’ve got yours now”.

Your dad choked on his laugh, quickly turning his head away to hide his grin as you let out a groan, burying your face in your hands again. “Mom!”, you exclaimed, your voice muffled but full of disbelief. “I’m sitting right here!”.

Ben’s smirk only widened, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “Tainted, huh?”, he said, raising an eyebrow at your mom. “Seems like it worked out pretty well for her. Don’t hear any complaints coming from that side of the bed”.

“Ben!”, you hissed, glaring at him with flushed cheeks. “You’re not helping!”.

Your mother’s cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, but she didn’t back down. Still holding Aria protectively, she raised her chin and shot Ben a look that could have stopped traffic. “Not helping? He’s not even trying to help”, she said sharply, though there was a faint, amused twitch at the corners of her lips. “He’s just making it worse, like always”.

“Worse?”, Ben repeated, arching a brow as he leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms. “I’d say I’m making it more interesting. Admit it, the place was boring before I showed up”.

“Boring?”. Your mother scoffed, her voice climbing slightly. “I’ll take boring over you traumatizing my granddaughter with your ‘interesting’ any day”.

Ben snorted. “Oh, please. This kid’s going to have thicker skin than all of us put together. She’s not gonna blink at a little banter. Isn’t that right, chicken?”. He reached out, his large hands gently brushing the edge of the blanket Aria was wrapped in.

Just then, the door creaked open, and the nurse stepped into the room, carrying a small bottle of formula in her hand. She glanced around, her eyes landing on the group as she smiled warmly. “Alright”, she said, holding up the bottle, “who wants to feed her?”.

Ben immediately straightened, his green eyes snapping to the bottle. “Me”, he said gruffly, stepping forward without hesitation. He held out his free hand.

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her arms folding over her chest as she gave him a pointed look. “Oh, you’re volunteering for something now? How generous of you”.

Ben shot her a glare. “She’s my kid”, he said simply, his tone brooking no argument. “I’ll feed her”.

Ben sat down carefully on the edge of your bed, right beside you, his movements deliberate as he cradled Aria in one arm and held the bottle with the other. You knew him well enough to see through his act; he could have sat anywhere, but he’d chosen this spot so you could see your baby up close, even from your weakened position. He wouldn’t say it out loud, of course—he’d just let his actions speak for him, like always.

The nurse gave him an approving nod before slipping out of the room.

It was only the second time Ben had fed Aria, but despite the lingering awkwardness in the way he held her impossibly small body, he looked surprisingly confident. His large hands, so used to holding weapons or fists, now supported her tiny frame with a gentleness you wouldn’t have thought possible. There was a rough grace to it, like he was learning quickly, adapting as he went.

Aria squirmed in his arms, her little face scrunching up as she let out a series of soft, annoyed sounds. Her fists flailed weakly, and her tiny legs kicked against the blanket wrapped around her.

“Easy, chicken”, Ben muttered, his deep voice low but soothing as he shifted her slightly in his arms. “I’m getting it. Hold your horses”.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, his usual bravado toned down into something softer as he adjusted his grip on her. He tilted the bottle slightly, making sure it was positioned just right. Aria let out another tiny grunt before finally latching onto the nipple, her little mouth working furiously as she began to feed.

“There we go”, Ben murmured, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Told you I’ve got it”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 🥰

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings @fitxgrld @winchesterwild78 @uddiifiigj @libby99hb @urgogodancer @urinternetmom @mochminnie @laaadygisbooornex3 @fallout-girl219

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys soldier boy #soldier boy x you #ben x you #ben x reader #ben #his second exception

121 notes · View notes