#bridgehead city

[nesaluvstherecoms]

𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: none.

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐄𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐬

“You’re not in Kansas anymore…”

Miles walks slowly towards the front of the room, dragging his steps lazily.

“We are going to Pandora.”

His tall, lean frame blocks a part of the light beams that fall into the room from the large glass panels, separating them from outer space.

“Now… I know you’re all asking yourselves the same question.” He continues as he slowly turns around to face his squadron, keeping his left hand on his belt. He purses his lips, taking a quick scan around the room, eyes lingering over their faces for a few seconds.

“Why so blue?”

His lips stretch in a grin, canines showing and tongue darting out slightly as he snickers at his own joke. The Recoms laugh collectively at their Colonel’s sense of humor. Lyle shakes his head, tail flicking behind him in amusement as the tension in the room is lifted briefly. Quaritch smiles while looking at them for a few seconds, before continuing.

“For our sins in our past lives, we’ve been brought back in the form of our enemy.”

Z Dog shifts in place, blowing her bubblegum and popping it as she listens to Quaritch intently. Ja’s ears shift at the sound but he continues to look at their Colonel.

“That gives us their… size, their strength, their speed.”

Fike brings another seed up to his mouth, front teeth nibbling at the outer shell to crack it. Walker continues to curl the dumbbell she’s holding in her left hand, her bicep flexing at the movement.

“And… with our training… that’s a pretty potent mix.” Miles adds, the end of his tail flicking slowly behind him. Wainfleet sniffs, shifting in place before he speaks.

“We’ve a mission yet?”

Quaritch looks at him.

“Indeed we do.” He replies, his eyes gleaming from the light within the room and his expression turning cold as he continues speaking. “Our mission is to hunt down and kill, the leader of the Na’vi insurgency.” He raises his head, canines coming out as he says the word kill. A deep growl rumbles from the back of Wainfleet’s throat at the mention of the man, and he leans back.

“The one they call Toruk Makto.”

Fike beats the left side of his chest with his balled up fist, a grin coming up to his face as excitement for bloodshed builds up in him. Miles grins lightly, giving a nod of approval at Fike’s thirst for violence, before he turns to the rest of the team with a determined expression. His hears fold back and he shows his canines yet again, head lifting up slightly to finish his sentence.

“Jake Sully.”

The room erupts in spirited cries, all Recoms showing their enthusiasm for the mission. After all, it has been a long time since they’ve been able to kill anything. And with their new bodies, they’re sure to bring hell to that fucking bastard who betrayed his entire species. Mansk chuckles, smiling as he shakes his head while Lopez raises his fist up in enthusiasm and Brown and Prager do a handshake. Z Dog grins widely, turning to look at Ja who is also grinning like a Cheshire cat, already planning victory. Wainfleet takes a quick scan around the room, watching with a smile as his teammates get riled up. He turns back to Miles, their eyes locking.

“Oorah.”

Miles chuckles at Lyle’s enthusiastic cry. He watches his squadron with a smile on his face, nodding once.

This time he has hope that everything will go as planned.

“Welcome to Hell, ladies and gentlemen.”

Y/N’s combat boots thud on the floor as she walks between her 10-man squadron, sat in two groups of five on either side of the large room, leaving a line for their Colonel to walk through. Their eyes follow her with admiration, as she slowly but firmly walks towards the front of the room.

“It’s not quite as you remember.”

As she reaches the large glass panels separating them from outer space, she turns around, facing her team. Her eyes linger over their faces. An eery feeling creeps in the pit of her stomach at first, instincts being alerted from the unfamiliar aliens watching, with ten pairs of golden eyes following her every move. But as she continues scanning their faces, their features start feeling more familiar, more like she remembers, more like the features of the squadron that followed her to every battlefield. Y/N smiles heartedly.

“Hello, old friends.”

The Recoms all chuckle, adoration and respect plastered all over their faces as they smile back at her. Y/N’s eyes fall upon her team Captain. John smiles, nodding at her once in respect. She turns to the rest of the room again.

“For our loyalty to the Corps, we have been chosen to fight for humanity’s future, in the form of our enemy. That gives us an advantage to explore them and their abilities better than anyone. And with our training, our qualifications, our expertise in warfare and our experience in a broad variation of battlefields… that’s a pretty lethal combo.”

Her eyes fall upon her First Lieutenant: Fernando Álvarez. He looks back at her, with his usual confident demeanor, smirking slightly. He’s also changed a lot, now being a Na’vi. But his features seem to have changed the least out of all the other Recoms. Maybe it will be easier for him to adapt in this new body, she thinks. She looks back at the rest of the team and the expression on her beautiful face falls serious.

“I will say this only once. We all knew what we signed up for the second we put our signatures on those contracts. So I do not want to hear any sob stories, complaints or any other bullshit of that kind. We are not on Earth anymore and we are not humans anymore either. You are here to bark on command and that is what you’re going to do. If you display any signs that you do not agree with our overall mission or with what the RDA is doing…”

Her eyes turn cold, icy stare pinning them all in place.

“The RDA will not hesitate to put a bullet through your heads and leave your carcasses out for the scientists to cut open.”

The Recoms all fall quiet, not even moving a muscle. They then look at each other, searching for any fear or hesitation among their faces, but there is none. As if they made a silent pact, they turn to look back at their Colonel. Her eyes linger over each and every one of them, but all she finds is determination and their usual blind loyalty to her. Y/N grins proudly. She turns to look at John again, who gives her a smile.

“So we’ve got a mission then, Colonel?”

Multiple eyes turn to the man who just spoke. Second Lieutenant Riley Jones remains calm, looking at his Colonel for an answer. He’s the only one who’s already in full gear, sitting next to Sergeant Scott McCaskill, with one double gloved hand grasping the left shoulder strap of his personalized plate carrier. Y/N clicks her tongue.

“Our overall mission is to help tame the frontier on Pandora for humanity’s future home. I will be personally assisting General Frances Ardmore in accomplishing this mission. And you all, will be my loyal special operations team as always. As for a specific mission, we don’t have one yet. We will first have to board on Bridgehead City and then we will be given our respective tasks.”

The Recoms nod, some of them looking at each other.

“That’s a little bit of shaky ground, is it not, comandante?”

Y/N nods.

“It is, Maria. But yet again, we’re now in the living and breathing form of the Na’vi. As long as we learn the terrain and the creatures inhabiting it, we will more than excel.”

Maria nods, her tongue pushing against the inside of her left cheek and she leans back in her seat, putting one elbow behind the back of her chair and manspreading. Fernando gives her an annoyed look as her knee pushes against his thigh and he nudges it away from him with the barrel of his handgun. She gives him a brief glare but doesn’t say anything.

“So we’re operating on unfamiliar terrain with alien creatures, in an unfamiliar base, with unfamiliar equipment and getting commands from a General we have met only once, while working for a non-governmental organization that claims that it will save humanity, which we also have never worked for before.”

All eyes turn on Riley again. Scott stares him down, eyeing one side of his face. Riley was always known to be the smartass one, always questioning their missions and every move, and that seems to not have changed one bit. And that’s what Y/N always liked about him. He always provided a different perspective on every strategy and questioned it until it was flawless. Before Y/N can respond, John replies.

“We all knew what we signed up for, Phoenix.”

Riley turns to John, his eyes scanning over the Captain’s features.

“Oh I wasn’t denying that.” He replies, squinting his eyes briefly at John. “I was simply stating the same facts I stated when we signed said contracts.”

“Well we appreciate your accurate insights, but they’re not helping, mate.” John says back.

Y/N’s eyes remain on him for a few seconds. She turns back to the group of Recoms who have now turned at her for an answer.

“I know you all have your doubts. Trust me, I have mine as well. But when we signed said contracts, The Recom Program was still just a backup plan. It was not planned throughly. However, it’s been fourteen years since then, and while we’ve been developing in our amnio tanks, the RDA and General Ardmore have been working relentlessly to develop the Program flawlessly. Everything has already been thought and planned for us, and when we get to Pandora we’ll have a clear vision on our mission as well as our purpose. And when that happens, I’ll allow you all to express your opinions on it. Just not to the RDA, but to me. We cannot be risking anything.”

There’s a low chatter amongst the Recoms at Y/N’s words. The Colonel lets them talk it out with each other for some minutes. She looks over all of them as the chatter dies down, before continuing.

“With that being said, we have reached the end of this meeting.” She finishes, watching them carefully and leaving no room for discussion. Her eyes are still looking for any signs of uncertainty on their faces. But yet again, after some minutes, they find none. Y/N smiles proudly, raising her head slightly up and taking a deep breath.

“Low and behold my darling friends, there is no going back.”

The room erupts in spirited cries, the Recoms clapping to show appreciation for their Colonel’s speech. Y/N smiles and walks closer to them as they all stand up and start greeting and chatting with each other. As the room gets loud in chatter and laughter, Y/N walks right up to them, patting John’s and Fernando’s backs as she gets in the group.

“Now, who wants to go for a few drinks? We have some catching up to do.” She asks and the Recoms cheer, all talking and laughing with each other as they noisily make their way out of the room, eleven pairs of combat boots thudding heavily on the floor below them. John and Y/N walk last, making sure that no one stays behind.

“You nailed it, Colonel.” John says, looking down at her with his bright and warm smile.

Y/N chuckles.

“That’s my job, Captain.”

It’s quiet inside the aircraft, except for the noise of the engine and the occasional hiss of the Recom Breathers, as Y/N and her squadron sip carbon dioxide every two minutes. The inside of the aircraft is dark, except for a dim red light that illuminates above, casting shadows on the Recoms’ faces. Y/N’s breathing is steady, grounding, her chest expanding with every inhale as the mask provides her lungs with the much needed carbon dioxide. Her eyes lift her vision forward, scanning over the faces of the Recoms in the row in front of her. Scott raises his head up, as his gaze meets hers. He takes a deep inhale, sipping more carbon dioxide as he continues to look at his Colonel. Y/N can see as his lips curl up into a warm smile behind the mask of the Recom Breather, his eyes give her his usual confident but assuring look, and his head nods once. Y/N closes her eyes once in acknowledgment to his gesture, before she lowers her gaze again. A shuffle and a thud are heard and she looks over at Riley who has leaned his head back, the back of his tactical helmet pressed against the cold metal of the aircraft.

“What’s taking so bloody long?” He huffs, his deep voice sounding nothing less than annoyed, and muffled behind the mask. He’s still the only one in full gear, armed to the teeth as the equipment weighs heavy against his body.

“Patience, Lieutenant.” John mumbles, opening his eyes briefly to look at him once before closing them again.

“This ain’t a field trip, ay.” Scott adds, also turning his eyes towards Riley who gives him a glare in response. Y/N takes another sip of carbon dioxide, dulling out their voices in the background.

“Apologies for the inconvenience,” A human soldier says, sat in the front of the room, right behind the cockpit. All Recoms turn their eyes towards him. “It’s taking a long time because we have to fly carefully. We’re still moving above Na’vi and wildlife territory, and this aircraft is small compared to the one before us which transported everything else. This one is made especially to transport one team of Recoms. Hardware such as this triggers the wildlife to attack it, if not moving carefully.”

Y/N’s team look at each other silently.

“The wildlife attacks our hardware?” Henry Davis, their Operations Officer, repeats, looking at the man. Before he can respond, Y/N speaks.

“It’s Pandora’s immune response.” She states, looking at a random spot in front of her. “The wildlife attacks everything that is not part of the moon’s natural ecosystem.”

“That means us too, I presume.” Henry replies, looking at her. Y/N shakes her head.

“With what I’ve read, the wildlife attacks only humans and machines. Unlike them, we have Na’vi DNA, so theoretically we should not be detected as a threat by the immune system.” She replies, taking another sip of carbon dioxide from her Recom Breather.

“Theoretically.” Riley comments.

Maria raises a brow before leaning close to Fernando , who is sitting next to her.

“¿Alguna vez sacará la cabeza del culo?”(Will he ever pull his head out of his ass?) She whispers in his ear as she looks at Riley with a raised brow, and Fernando shrugs.

“You came prepared, Colonel.” Sergeant Major Silva comments with a smile.

“Naturally.” Y/N replies shortly, before leaning back and closing her eyes again. The human soldier at the front speaks again.

“As soon as we’re somewhere far within the Kill Zone, we can open the side door of the aircraft so you all can get some fresh air and a glimpse of the head base.” He states and the Recoms nod silently before going back to sipping carbon dioxide quietly from their Recom Breathers.

After about half an hour, a buzz is heard throughout the aircraft and the red light starts flickering. The Recoms all look up towards the speakers above as the human soldier puts on his breathing mask. After adjusting it to his liking, he turns to Y/N and gives her an affirmative nod. Y/N stands up from her seat and while keeping her upper body bent over as to not hit the ceiling of the aircraft, she walks to the side door. It doesn’t take much from her new muscles to pull the door to the side and soon enough, a blast of air bursts in as well as light entering through. The red light switches off and the Recoms all slowly move towards the opening.

Y/N sticks her right shoulder and head out of the aircraft while the rest remove their Breathers to take in fresh air. Her golden eyes fall onto the sight in front of the vehicle, wind blowing into her hair and kuru, while her hand moves to lower the mask from her face. The Recoms follow suit in looking out of the aircraft, standing carefully behind their Colonel, and soon enough their eyes widen at the sight in front of them.

“Well I’ll be damned…” Y/N murmurs.

In front of their eyes lays nearly a mile of strip bare earth, not counting the mile they have already left behind, starting from the natural tree line and ending at the land part of the 19 mile defensive wall that surrounds the “boom town”. The Kill Zone. Treated with herbicides and defended with automated weapons to keep Pandora’s network of sensors and death creatures away.

As the aircraft moves closer, Y/N and her team of Recoms watch in awe as the defensive wall gets larger and larger and their Marine hearts immediately start admiring the incredible firepower incorporated on it.

“Wouldya lookit tha’.” Scott says in awe, as they all watch the variety of gun and missile systems.

“Could blow off a fuckin’ army of tanks like swatting flies off a piece of meat.” Riley comments just as amazed as the others.

“Damn right.” John replies, as they get closer to the missiles installed on the massive concrete pylons.

As the aircraft flies over the defensive wall, preparing to head for the airfield, the Recoms are now overseeing the massive hive of chaotic construction. Heavy lift blimps and nimble robotic cranes loom over robotic swarm assemblers and hulking, yellow AMP suits while humans drive a variety of ground utility vehicles. Hundreds of tower cranes stack prefabbed structures into enormous power and processing plans, while a web of high-speed maglev train lines delivers materials and robots to where they are needed. As everyone watches the landscape before them, Y/N speaks again.

“We’re finally here.”

They have arrived on the destination they were created for.

The city of a thousand cranes.

Bridgehead City.

Y/N’s steps hold authority in them as she walks, heavy combat boots thudding on the ground below her feet. Her posture is straight, firm, calm and calculated like the commanding officer she is, as she makes her way through the Sec-Ops Armor Bay. Soldiers and staff turn their heads to look at the tall Recom walking among them, her second in command following right behind. She tries not to let her expression show the amazement at the sheer amount of weapon power and machinery she is walking through, as for now her focus is only one.

“General Ardmore!” Her voice booms firmly, stopping right a few feet away from the woman in what seems to be a metal skeleton suit. Y/N salutes, John following suit as the Expeditionary Force Commander turns towards her, blue eyes immediately falling on the Na’vi woman. Ardmore smiles.

“Human or Recombinant, I could spot that unchecked determination and authority holding demeanor from a mile away, L/N.”

Y/N chuckles, grasping the metal hand of the suit that has been reached towards her, before engaging in a respectful embrace with the General and patting each other’s backs once.

“Good to see you, General. It’s been a while.” Y/N says with a smile as they pull apart.

“True that is, Colonel.” Ardmore replies before turning to John. “Captain Keller.” She calls out once to acknowledge his presence and he nods once in respect. Ardmore turns to Y/N.

“It’s good to finally have you under my command, Colonel L/N. Welcome to Pandora. We have a lot to discuss. Come, walk with me.” She says before walking ahead, as Y/N and John start following behind.

“As you may know, this is the Sec-Ops Armor Bay.” Ardmore states as she walks through the machinery. “From AMP and Skel Suits to ground assault vehicles, SeaWasps, and Kestrels - if it walks, rolls or flies for Sec-Ops, it gets maintained and sometimes parked in the Armor Bay. Our weapon technicians work hard to keep our gun and missile systems functioning optimally in the moon’s tropical environment, and our engineers perform repairs on vehicles that have sustained damage from contact with Pandoran forces.”

“Impressive…” Y/N replies as she and John watch the numerous people working on the vehicles, welding sparkles flying in the air and the smell of machinery work fills her nostrils. Ardmore leads them outside, the sun falling above them as they’re now walking through one of the industrial zones. Machines and vehicles surround them, all working fast and precisely, building relentlessly. The General notices as Y/N’s eyes follow them, looking somewhat in awe at how quickly and efficiently they build.

“So what’s with this place? Why rush to build not just a base but a city, General?” She asks, turning her head to look at Ardmore. The General chuckles.

“Observant as always, Colonel.” She replies as they continue walking. “That was always one of your best traits.”

She stops and turns around, looking more serious now as she stares at Y/N and John.

“Earth is dying.” Ardmore states, blue eyes turning to look at the construction going on. “As you know, our task here is to tame this frontier. To make Pandora the new home for humanity. We’re here to “build tomorrow”, seeing that we’re the last hope for a dying Earth. But before we can do that, we need to…. pacify, the hostiles.”

Y/N nods once, also turning to look at the construction. Her ears fold back for a moment, as her tail moves slowly side to side behind her.

“I must say, this new flagship installation has gotten quite far considering how little time the RDA CON-DEV has been here.” She points out, looking over at Ardmore. The General nods.

“The construction of Bridgehead and its supporting outposts is larger than anything the RDA has attempted on Pandora. Bridgehead is roughly the size and composition of Long Beach, California and vastly larger than the older Hell’s Gate. Getting it done requires a blank slate attack on the logistical challenges, and what emerges are innovative building techniques and the need to rely on heavy automation at all scales. The process is heavily robotic and algorithmic, doing away with all RDA remote vehicles controlled by human operators. From robotic material extraction, through high-tech manufacturing, and then onto swarm assembly of enormous structures, the new style of RDA construction is productive and highly organized.” Ardmore states, before turning to point at some spider-looking yellow machines.

“Swarm assemblers, latest-generation machines with a “Triple R” construction strategy - Rapid, Remote, Robotic. These machines can put up a building in six days.” She says before continuing to walk, with Y/N and John following behind. Ardmore turns her head to look at Y/N over her shoulder.

“That look on your face tells me you want to know everything about everything here.” She says and Y/N chuckles.

“It’s in my principles, General. I could argue that knowledge is much more important for a commanding officer than muscles.” Y/N replies, and Ardmore chuckles back.

“And that’s one of your strongest qualities. You’ve always been prepared, always knew how the world around you operated.”

“And that’s not gonna change.” Y/N replies back.

Ardmore, Y/N and John now stand behind the rail that overlooks the enormous 3D printers as they churn out vast amounts of components for vehicles, weapons, robotics, data equipment and buildings.

“How big is this bad boy?” Y/N asks as she looks amazed at the print heads as they work rapidly, hissing as they spew out hot, freshly printed red metal from the pressurized tubing. A construction supervisor nearby, dressed in a red construction vest, looks up at the Recom and answers.

“This is our largest printer, ma’am. It has a build volume of 220ft (67 m) long x 95ft (29m) wide x 45 ft (14 m) high.” He replies as Ardmore turns to grab her RDA standard-issue coffee mug.

“Holy shit.” John mumbles as he hears the supervisor’s words, both him and Y/N watching the enormous printer in awe.

“Now,” Ardmore speaks. “Back to business.”

Y/N and John turn to her, focusing their attention on the more important matter.

“As I said before, we’re here to colonize Pandora. Naturally, we’ve been met with massive resistance and every time we have fought back, we have taken loses.” Ardmore says over the noise of the print heads, before turning to walk away from the 3D printer. Y/N and John follow her as she leads them towards the high-tech Ops Center. They walk through the corridors, passing workers and military personnel who all seem to be in their own corporate world, carrying files and stacks of papers, until they reach the Holofloor. Y/N and John watch as Ardmore hops off her Skel suit and takes off her breathing mask. They put on their own Recom Breather masks on to sip the carbon dioxide that is lacking inside the human-air facility. Ardmore walks through the imagery of Pandora terrain, videos of Na’vi and wildlife attacking RDA hardware and holograms of Pandoran sites.

“However, dealing with the resistance from the hostiles is not your job momentarily.” She tells Y/N as she sips coffee from her mug. “We have assigned someone else for that issue.”

Y/N raises a brow, bringing her Recom Breather mask up to sip carbon dioxide.

“Someone else? I thought that was my job.” She replies, lowering the mask before looking at Ardmore for an answer. The General takes a sip of her coffee before turning to her.

“Yes. Before Project Phoenix came to life, that was planned to have been your job. However, a few things have changed since then.” Ardmore turns to nod at an operator nearby who presses something on his datapad and pulls up the holograms of twelve Recombinants that Y/N has never seen before.

“This is the Deja Blu team.” Ardmore continues before turning towards Y/N again. “After you and your team were required to sign up for Project Phoenix, Colonel Quaritch and his team signed up right after you. The Recoms you see here are the Recombinants of said Colonel and his team. They arrived on Bridgehead a few days before you, and I gave them the mission of dealing with the leader of the Na’vi insurgency.”

Y/N’s jaw clenches and Ardmore doesn’t miss that. The Recom’s eyes turn away from the General to trace over the features of the hologram of who she assumes is this Colonel Quaritch. If she wasn’t so tense right now, she would’ve thought to herself that he’s quite handsome. Y/N swallows, and turns her head towards Ardmore again, measuring out her next words carefully.

“With all due respect ma’am, with as much as I know, isn’t Colonel Quaritch the man responsible for the expulsion of the RDA from Pandora?” She asks carefully, watching for the General’s reaction. Ardmore sighs, putting down her coffee mug.

“That is precisely why I gave him this mission. The man who organized the war against the RDA fourteen years ago goes by the name of Jake Sully. He was a human who permanently took over an avatar body, and as we speak, he’s still leading the attacks against our forces. At the time of the war, Sully was under Colonel Quaritch’s wing, before killing him in battle. Hunting down and killing him was supposed to be your mission first yes, but it seemed more fitting to give it to Colonel Quaritch, since he knows Sully better than anyone else here, and seeks revenge for his treason. There’s nothing more deadly and determined than a soldier who seeks payback.”

Y/N sucks in the inside of her left cheek before biting onto it lightly, pursing her lips in the process. Her ears fold back and her tail moves cautiously behind her. She makes brief eye contact with John who was also looking over the holograms of the Deja Blu team, before turning to Ardmore who has picked up her coffee mug again.

“So then, what becomes of me and my team?” She asks. Ardmore takes a long sip of coffee before turning to look up at the tall Recombinant.

“I have a greater mission for you, L/N.” She says, and watches as Y/N’s eyes glint dangerously. “You and your team are now the highest qualifying operators I have here. Your skills and knowledge are highly valuable to us and I believe that you could be the key to colonizing Pandora.” She waves her hand and the holograms of the Deja Blu team disappear. She turns to Y/N with a proud smile, and puts her hands behind her back, puffing out her chest.

“Colonel F/N L/N, I am promoting you to Major General. With the absence of my Lieutenant General who is still on his way, you are now my second in command. I am giving you full secondary command and authority over all of my air, land and sea forces. You have always been one of the Marine Corps’ most valuable and brilliant operators and I believe this post would be perfect for you. Your mission is now the same as mine and you and your team will help me in retaking Pandora to make it humanity’s new home. I have renamed your squadron to team ALPHA, and their ranks will retain the same position and authority that they held back on Earth.”

Y/N’s eyes widen for a few moments, before she returns to her calm and calculated demeanor. She balls up her right fist and puts it above her heart, nodding once at Ardmore in respect.

“Thank you, General. I promise you that me and my team will not disappoint.”

Ardmore smiles before nodding once in acknowledgment.

“I’m counting on it. Now, with that out of the way, what do you say you join me for a drink and some conversation? Just like the first time we met.” She offers, watching as the Recom hides a smile.

“Of course, ma’am. It would be my pleasure.” Y/N replies, her tail flicking behind her, before they both start making their way out of the Holofloor room. John stays behind, knowing that now it is not his place to join them, and Y/N nods at him once over her shoulder in acknowledgment, before the sliding doors close behind her.

Y/N and Ardmore sit in her office, sat next to each other on either side of the leather couch on the side of the room, talking as they occasionally sip from a respective can of “Viperwolf Ale”.

“May I say something, General.” Y/N asks carefully, her large body sat somewhat uncomfortably in the human-sized room. Ardmore turns to look up at Y/N and nods at her to continue.

“I don’t know how I feel about this Colonel Quaritch.” Y/N finally says. Ardmore sighs, taking a sip from her can.

“I don’t blame you. You’ve never met him and the only perspective you have of him is how he lost the war.” She replies. “But Quaritch is a skilled and knowledgeable operator. He has the most experience with Pandora and his team will be very useful to us in our mission.”

Y/N listens carefully but Ardmore can tell that she is not convinced.

“I’m just not sure how we can trust a man who made a mistake that fatal for humanity.” She replies. Ardmore nods slowly, before taking another sip of beer.

“For now, I see no issue with him. If he is still as determined as they say he once was, he will be a major bonus to have on our side.” Ardmore replies shortly, leaving no more room for discussion. Y/N nods slowly and looks away, before taking a sip of her own.

“But I do want you to know, that I will not go easy on any of your operators.” She tells Ardmore, turning back to her. Ardmore turns to look at the Recom, with the corners of her wrinkled lips turning up into a smirk. Y/N makes eye contact with her coldly and her ears fold back before continuing in a firm voice.

“You gave me this position and I will fill it. But I will not tolerate any mistakes from anyone. I will do my job as perfectly and flawlessly as possible, and that includes getting rid of some of our own.” She stops for a bit, looking for any negative reaction.

“I will not hesitate to execute if necessary.”

This time Ardmore does not hide her smirk, looking at Y/N proudly. She takes a deep breath, and does not break eye contact with her, before she replies to Y/N’s words.

“Very well.”

Title Explanation

Esprit de Corps - The "spirit" of a unit. This spirit is commonly reflected by all members. It implies devotion and loyalty to the Marine Corps, with deep regard for history, traditions and honor. This spirit is also reflected by all of the Recoms, both Deja Blu and ALPHA.

ᴜɴɪᴛ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴀᴛᴀ ꜱʜᴇᴇᴛ - This data sheet contains detailed information on all of the members of Y/N’s squadron. This may be helpful to get the full insights on them as well as reduce complications and confusion upon reading upcoming chapters.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

[pedroam-bang]

Avatar: The Way Of Water (2022)

[makoodles]

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.”

[anxiousdreamcore]

Rebel

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This piece sat in my drafts for so long 😭 but I loved realising it! The idea of Spider "vandalising" Bridgehead property through art has always been my favourite. If you can’t tell, the symbol painted over the recom one is an Omatikaya crest! Even in a city as far from home as Bridgehead, Spidey makes sure to remind everyone (especially the Phoenix squad he’s been stuck with) that he or his people have yet to give up! 🤭

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(DO NOT repost my artwork on any other platform, with or without credit. I do not give my permission to do so.)

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Imagine this funny thought.

You are pregnant... Again.

This time a girl.

And it was April 1st.

You're water broke.

Quaritch left for work and didn't believe you.

You never joked before but he doesn't have time for this shit

He has to find and track Jake Sully.

Right when he was getting close on the Sully family, his ear peace came and you were in labor.

By the time he ran inside the hospital of bridgehead city, you already gave birth.

You had an annoyed look on your face as your husband came.

Before he took one step further....

You threw an object at him.

"It was an honest mistake."

He never heard of anyone born on April 1st.

"don't worry, sweetheart. I will be with you the next time you give birth." He grinned.

[sunnybeewriting]

peachy keen.

Hi guys! So I'm pretty new to writing and this is actually the biggest thing I’ve ever written. I watched The Way of Water when it came out and took an immediate interest in this guy, partially because I thought his character has a lot of potential, and partially because I also thought that he was really hot.

So I decided to set up a series of little works. This one is just sort of a beginning to the Reader’s character and Quaritch, and I do plan on writing more about them in the future with this fic as their base. Maybe do some AU’s, maybe just continue the story from here, maybe lead into the movie, who knows!

That all said, I really, really hope you like it! If you do, please give it a like or a comment!

WORDS: 15,000

WARNINGS: Adult themes and language

peachy keen. Part Two.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your body jerks to a stop just before you can fully trip over your shoelace and faceplant onto the floor. Unfortunately, the leftover food on your plate could not say the same, jostled just enough that it went flying from your hands and onto the tiled floor of the mess hall.

You lean down quickly to clean it up, scooping the food with your fingers and back onto the plate as best you can. You succeed only halfway, goop just smearing across the floor and onto your hand.

You stare at the mess you made, ears and cheeks burning as you hear snickers of cruel amusement coming from some military meatheads a few feet behind you.

You jump up quickly, making sure to avoid your shoelace so you don’t trip on it again and embarrass yourself any further. You hurry to the counter holding the utensils, mugs, and paper towels, tugging several brown napkins out of the dispenser sitting on top. You take a deep breath to calm yourself.

Kneeling down so soon after sleeping for six years in a cyropod made the muscles in your legs and shoulders ache, but you do it anyways. You wipe up the mess as best you can, piling the dirty napkins onto the plate and dumping it all into a nearby trashcan. You wish the ground would swallow you up.

You aren’t usually so embarrassed by such a small mistake, but it had been a rough past couple of days for you. You had landed at Bridgehead City just a few days ago, and you had felt immediately overwhelmed by the extreme size of the fortress.

It took the RDA fifteen years to return to Pandora, but when they did, they made sure to put in roots. Bridgehead City was an enormous structure, constantly building upon itself and hosting thousands of military combatants, engineers, skel suits, construction robots, anything that was thought of to build and maintain humanity’s last stronghold. Every person of every imagined career was here, working as one like bees and ants had once done for their queens a hundred years ago, before they had both gone extinct. 

Bridgehead was terrifying to look at for the first time, seeing in person exactly how far humanity was willing to go to force itself onto another planet. You had noticed that it almost looked like a parasite, contrasting in color and material against the lively, glowing rainforest that surrounded it just past the barren land of the Kill Zone.

The wave of information that hit you the moment you stepped off the ship was almost enough to make your excitement to be on Pandora wither and die, but you held onto it with shaky, desperate hands.

Luckily for you, it wasn’t long before your enthusiasm bounced back and you met your new colleagues. Most of them had been just as nervous as you, clearly uncertain and overwhelmed. Knowing you weren’t alone made you relax just slightly. They were scientists hand-picked by the RDA as test subjects for re-opening the Avatar program, just like you.

None of you were really sure why the program had been stopped in the first place. The RDA was very quiet about what had happened all those years ago, when most of their military and scientists had been sent fleeing from Pandora with nothing but the clothes on their backs and tails between their legs. They refused to issue many statements, insisting that a minor misunderstanding had occurred with the ‘natives’ of the planet, and they’d be back soon enough to continue their mission.

The RDA had stated that the main reason for discounting the Avatar program was because the cost outweighed any benefit. The only reason they were allowing a few lucky souls to come to Pandora as Avatars was simply as a favor to the scientific community, and as a test to see if the Avatar program should be reinstated. Now the main purpose behind the program is to see if it’s worth it for people to be able to travel around Pandora without having to worry about the environmental protection systems, than a way to make peace with the Na’vi.

Most of the scientists in the base were only allowed restricted access to information regarding the past and current situation with the Na’vi, only knowing that The People were no longer accepting of humans on their planet and that the military is now on constant high alert. Most of the remaining records were classified to you, although you did try to learn as much as you could about what was happening on Pandora. Unfortunately, the RDA was very strict with that information, and you never found anything that mentioned the Na’vi or what happened fifteen years ago.  

The ten members of the new Avatar program had been divided into two parts of five, just to make the introductions and sessions easier. You had met your three new acquaintances, eager to make some friends. They had introduced themselves; Emma, a small, shy woman who preferred observing rather than participating; James, a sweet, handsome young man; and David, an older man in his late fifties who seemed a bit too haughty for his own good.

Your group was shown to your individual rooms over on the west side of Bridgehead, far away from the landing pads and ships you had arrived on. Your new room was small and gray with concrete walls and a thin layering of carpet covering the cold floors. You had a small desk that sat underneath a suction-locked window that let you glimpse into an enclosure full of construction robots, but at least the light it let in was nice. There was a simple cot in the corner and a mirror as the only piece of décor on the walls, but it was yours, a place you could call your own.

You had grinned tiredly and fallen face down on your bed without bothering to take off your shoes. You slept for fourteen hours, and when you awoke you felt as though you were rising from the dead, hair wild and mouth fuzzy. After you brushed your teeth, showered, got dressed in clean clothes, and ate food for the first time in six years, you felt like a brand-new person.

And here you are now, in the mess hall, already making a fool of yourself on your second week.

You quickly rush back to your table and plop your behind into the seat you had vacated to throw away your plate, sitting across from Emma and David. Emma is poking at her food, face pale and gloomy. David is almost done with his own dinner, glasses perched on his nose as he reads from a holotablet.

Geesh. These guys certainly weren’t known for being the life of the party back home.

Maybe they just need some more time to adjust? I know I certainly fucking do.

You take a moment to bend down and tie your shoelace, double knotting it, not wanting to cause any more scenes.

When you sit back up in your chair and make eye contact with Emma, your lopsided, embarrassed smile falls from your face when she simply stares back at you, clearly uneasy for some reason you can’t name.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking clumsy. And why the fuck does it look like you’re all attending a funeral over here?” The voice that chimes up behind you lifts your mood exponentially, and you turn around in your seat to greet the approaching form of the last member of your group and your best friend with a happy grin.

You had met Margot a few months before your trip to Pandora when you both attended a required conference that would discuss certain parts of living in Bridgehead. The second you struck up a conversation with her, it was like meeting your long-lost sister. You had instantly clicked, getting on like a house on fire and scarcely spending a day away from each other.

James arrives at the table with her, holding his own plate. He gives you a comforting look, clearly sympathetic to your embarrassment.

“Hey Margot, James! You saw that, huh?” you ask sheepishly, shoulders raising to your ears as you feel a hot flash of mortification all over again.

“Uh, yeah, honey, I saw. I’m pretty sure half the cafeteria watched you nearly eat shit. You need to learn to tie your shoes better, babe.” Margot’s voice is just as loud as ever, and her bright blonde hair and tall figure aren’t exactly subtle, either.

She was the type of person to grab someone’s attention and refuse to let it go, manicured nails digging in deep. Well, her nails used to be manicured. Now they were just as plain as everyone else’s.

She takes a seat in the empty chair next to you, setting her own plate down with a clatter. She untucks her cheap silverware from the napkin and digs into her dinner, eating hurriedly like someone is about to snatch the plate away from her. You had once asked her why she never slowed down to enjoy her food, and she said that with eight siblings if you wanted any food, you needed to eat it like an animal.  

James takes the other empty seat next to you, patting your shoulder twice before saying, “It’s okay, I don’t think that many people saw.”

You smile weakly at his attempt to make you feel better. It doesn’t help much, but you appreciate the thought, “Thanks, James.”

He nods and moves his attention to his plate.

Your table is silent for a few moments, everyone lost in their own thoughts and tasks.

You break the silence when you nervously ask, “So. Anybody else freaking out at the thought of linking up for the first time or is it just me?”

David looks up, paying attention to your words for the first time since you met him. “Well, I’m not nervous because I did all the pre-linking sessions and training years ago.” His nose is practically raised in the air.

You stare at him.

What a fucking douchebag. Who answers a question like that?

“That’s nice. What about you, Emma, are you nervous or excited? How are you feeling?” you ask gingerly, wanting to include her in the conversation. It would be nice to have another friend so that the next few years weren’t miserable.

Emma stares at you blankly, and then whispers a simple, “No.”

You lean back in your seat and deflate. “Oh.”

Fuck it, I tried.

Margot, the smug bitch, is watching you drown in social awkwardness as she happily munches away. You give her a look and a shrug, and she rolls her eyes before placing her fork down on the table. She dabs the corner of her mouth with her napkin, and then says to Emma, “Girl, I absolutely love that bracelet you’re wearing. Where did you get it?”

To your surprise, Emma perks up in her seat, right hand grazing the bracelet she wore on her left wrist. Her face softens, and she says, “It was my mom’s, actually.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Right?” Margot jabs her sharp elbow into your side, and you hiss but nod hurriedly.

“Yes, that is so sweet! I wear my mom’s wedding ring, actually.” You rub said ring with your hand. Your mood drops a little bit at the mention of your mother, but you shake your head to get back on track. “Makes me feel closer to her, I suppose.”

A small smile pulls on Emma’s cheeks, and she looks down, still rubbing the bracelet. “Yeah.”

You look at her, reconsidering your thoughts about her personality. 

Maybe it just takes a little time to connect, that’s all.

You fiddle with the small, emerald cut ring that you were on the ring finger of your right hand. It had been a piece of jewelry your mother had worn faithfully until the day she died.

When you were a child, around ten or eleven years old, you had asked her why your dad had chosen that specific ring to represent their marriage, out of the hundreds of others he could have.

She was still sick at the time, spending most of her days laying in a hospital bed while nurses bustled in and out. She had lost so much weight that her cheeks were gaunt, and her face and hands were so white they were almost transparent, pale blue veins clear through the skin.

Her lips were pale and chapped, and the dark circles around her eyes were deeply imprinted in her skin like bruises. She looked like a ghost, a fragile, terrifying imitation of the woman who had raised you, a woman who you had thought put the stars themselves into the sky. She was weak, and even before she passed away it was like she was already dead.  

She had gripped your hand as tightly as she could when you had asked that question, sweaty palm squeezing yours to the point of pain in a rare show of strength. She was usually so weak the nurses and you had to feed her by hand as she could barely lift up her arms. She looked you in the eye and pulled you close until your face was right next to hers.

In the croak that had now become her voice, she whispered, “I had asked the same question, years after he had proposed. I asked, ‘Jonathon, why this ring? Why this cut, why this color?’. And he had gripped me tightly and pulled me close and said, ‘Well, my love, it’s the breathtaking green color of your eyes. Your eyes and the ring match exactly, you see. And every time you look at it, you will see yourself the way I see you. Beautiful and bright.’

Tears had filled her glazed eyes, and she whispered to you, “No matter what, when you find the one you love, never let them go. Cherish every single second you have with them, never take them for granted, and make sure that they love you for everything that you are, the good and the bad. It is the purpose of our life. Love. Without it, we are nothing.” Against the tears and the agony that claimed her face and voice, your mother smiled for the first time in years.

Your father had passed away while your mother was still pregnant, killed in an easily avoidable accident. No matter how much your mother loved you before she had gotten sick, no matter how much joy you brought to her life, there was always a deep sorrow and grief inside her that consumed her soul every day.

She never got over your father, never dated or remarried or showed the barest hint of interest in anyone else. When asked why, she said that she had already had the love of her life, and there was no one who could ever compare to even the lingering ghost of your father that seemed to haunt her.

And when the sickness truly hit and reduced her to almost nothing, her anger and bitterness twisted her mind and her love for you into something cruel and abhorrent. 

Even years later you kept her whispered words locked away into the very muscles of your heart. Even though your mother had been sick and weak when she told you these things, it was one of your few beloved moments with her. It had shown you who your mother really was, past all the sickness and malice, who she really was deep in her soul. That she had once loved and been loved.

And now you wear her wedding ring as a reminder of your parent’s love for each other, and how regardless of your mother’s cruelty toward you during the last years of her life, your love for her would never fade.

You’re jerked out of your melancholy thoughts when Margot burps loudly and thumps a fist against her chest.

“Jesus Christ, Margot. Where the fuck did you learn your manners from?” James asks, recoiling in disgust.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m almost done, then we can go check out the linking center.”

You nod eagerly, so overwhelmed with anticipation and delight that your fingers tremor just slightly.

You are so ready to meet your Avatar and link up for the first time, but the thought of anything going wrong makes you restless. You wish you could just get it over with so you could stop agonizing over it.

Margot finally finishes her food and stands up to dump her plate. James does the same, and then all five of you are off, walking down a long hallway with lots of twists and turns. The fluorescent  lights shine brightly on the ceiling, and you can hear the distant sounds of never-ending construction.

Even with all five of you working together to get to your destination, the new buildings are too much for your group and you get lost in the labyrinth of hallways. James even has to ask a nearby custodian for directions once or twice. When you turn a corner, you spot a bathroom sign, and suddenly you have business to take care of. You pat Margot’s arm and point in that direction.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to head to the bathroom real quick. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

The rest of the group nods, but Margot decides to go with you. You do your business and you’re washing your hands in the sink when Margot makes eye contact with you through the mirror as she washes her own hands.

“I won’t lie, honey, I’m feeling pretty nervous about linking up as well. I know we’ve been through training simulations and have studied and practiced for years, but this is going to be different.” Her face and voice are uncharacteristically serious, and her hands shake just slightly as she pulls a towel out of the dispenser to dry her hands.

You feel a flash of sympathy for your friend, stopping your own drying. You walk around to her and put your hands on her shoulders, leaning your face close to hers.

“It’ll be okay, Margot, we’ve both got this. We just need to do it, and then it’ll be as easy as breathing before we know it, okay?”

Margot nods and takes a deep breath, looking down for a moment. When she looks up she’s much calmer, and her usual peppy attitude is back and shining.

“Thanks, sugar.”

You nod understandingly, releasing her shoulders and knocking her hip with yours as you walk toward the bathroom door. You both step outside into the hallway and continue your way.

“Of course. And besides, I’m just so ready to finally see her, you know? We’ve seen pictures and videos, but actually being there in real life is going to feel so surreal. The Na’vi are just stunning to me. Ooh, I almost forgot!”

You stop walking as you talk, scientist-brain taking over. Margot moves to stand in front of you, crossing her arms over her chest with an amused expression. This was far from the first time you had gone on a tangent.

“I saw someone from the recombinant unit when I was walking around yesterday, and he was fucking huge!”

You’re so busy trying to organize your thought flow into something sensible that you completely miss the approaching footsteps coming from behind you, and the way Margot looks over your shoulder and turns white.

You continue on, oblivious.

“He must have been pretty high ranking because the people with him followed him around like little ducklings. And the blue pigment of his skin was so beautiful. The color contrast of his eyes versus his skin kind of reminded me of a Primula ‘Zebra Blue’, you know, that blue and golden flower that went extinct like a hundred years ago? It was just amazing to finally see in person, and I-”

“Well, aren’t you just a peach?”

The deep voice that comes from behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You whirl around, expecting to come face to face with whomever just spoke. Instead, you come eye level with the belt buckle and zipper of a pair of navy green camo military pants.

Your heart drops to your shoes.

You tilt your head up, up, up, until it’s practically craning backward. The uncomfortable position hurts, but that’s the least of your problems.

Your biggest problem, literally and figuratively, is the cold eyes and carefully amused face of the man you were just talking about.

You open your mouth to speak but words refuse to leave.

Why does this shit always happen to me?

You clamp your mouth shut when no words appear and swallow nervously, and the man notices your tense expression.

He smirks down at you, almost sneering. From the way he towers over you closely, unconcerned with personal space, it’s clear that this man likes to have people’s attention on him, takes pleasure in scaring people with his massive height and muscles.

And his intimidation tactics completely work on you, that’s for sure.

Jesus, look at his hands. He could cover my entire face and upper torso with just one of them!

You want to put as much distance between this frightening man and yourself as possible. But there’s a little voice in the back of your head, a stupid, too-curious little voice, that want you to examine him all the way from the finger pads and palm lines of his hands to the tip of his tail.

He was terrifying, yes, but you are also stunned by the wonderful science and technology that made up his body.

Of course, you’d seen holographs and pictures of Avatars and the Na’vi people, but they could never hold a candle to the real thing.

The navy green tank top, tattoo, and dog tags were all familiar things, but his height and the bright, smooth blue color of his skin were brand-new to you, something you wanted to take a closer look at. His hair was shaved closer to his skull than any other you’d seen, Avatar and Na’vi alike.

His bright yellow eyes sear into yours, and it feels like he is trying to see into your fucking soul.

Your heart rate skyrockets, mortified and thrilled and fearful all at once. The pile of extreme emotions twists your stomach, making you queasy.

Do not fucking puke on his shoes.

The man takes a step back to make room for his massive arm before he lifts it up, clearly holding his hand between you for a handshake. It almost seems as though he is testing your nerve; you wonder how many people had chosen not to shake his hand, too frightened.

“The name’s Colonel Quaritch, pleasure to meet you. What’s your name.” It’s a demand more than a question.  

You look up at his face again before quickly wiping your hands on your lab coat to get rid of any sweat. You grab onto his hand as best as you can with your own, and holy shit.

His hand engulfs your own minuscule one and part of your forearm, his fingers reaching almost all the way to your elbow. And the skin of his hand is surprisingly soft; he doesn’t have as many calluses as you thought a marine would, but that might be because his Avatar body is fairly new. You tell him your name, and say,

“Uh, sorry, sir! I’m a xenobotanist from the science division, I got here about two weeks ago!” Your voice is squeaky and louder than you want it to be, making you cringe. You barely remember to shake his hand as you speak other than simply hold it in your own.

He continues to stare at you, wicked smile only growing when you say you’re a scientist.

“Ah, you tree-huggers are officially back, then. Part of the ‘newly instated Avatar program’, right?”

“Uh, y-yes, sir. That’s us.” You laugh weakly.

He barely twitches the fingers of the hand still holding your own, but the strength that comes from them is enough to make his grip almost painful.

“Hmmm. Well, I’m real curious to see how long you and your friend last before Pandora eats you alive. Just as a friendly warnin’, you should be real careful about what you say and who you say it about ‘round here. Guess I’ll be seein’ you. Peach.”

Your knees weaken and you nod hurriedly.

He finally releases your hand, gives you one last cold, golden look, and continues on his way. His bare arm brushes your shoulder as he passes you, and it’s enough to make you shiver.

He’s gone in just a few seconds, but you stay rooted in your spot, staring at the floor. You’re wondering if he’s going to come back and shank you with the wicked knife you’d seen strapped to his thigh when a hand gently presses against your shoulder.

You leap into the air for the second time that day, hand slamming into your chest and breath coming out in a gasp as you realize it’s just Margot. You’d completely forgotten she was even there, too consumed with the encompassing presence of Colonel Quaritch.

You look at her, eyes wide and mouth gaping. Margot returns your stunned look, face paler than you’ve ever seen it before.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. You have the worst luck out of anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life. What the fuck just happened?”

You gulp. “I’m pretty sure that a terrifying man who wouldn’t hesitate to gut me overheard me practically gushing about him?”

She nods. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You stand there, practically swaying on your feet. “Oh my god, he fucking hates me! Did you see the look on his face? Oh my god, why is this happening? I’m never going to able to leave my room again!”

You bury your face into your hands, suddenly exhausted. First the mess hall, now this? Why couldn’t you just not embarrass yourself for once?

Margot pats your shoulder as you groan. “There, there. It’s alright, all you have to do is avoid him for the rest of your life. If you don’t, I’m pretty sure the next time you see him he’ll either just ignore you or kill you for saying all that stuff about him, and then you won’t have to worry about it anymore!”

“But I didn’t even mean it in a bad way! I was just describing him, the same way I do with all unknown subjects.”

Margot winces. “Uh, yeah, I would definitely not tell him that.”

------

You feel like whining as you finally continue walking to the linking center. After all that, the excitement you had felt at meeting your Avatar had almost completely disappeared. Now, the only thing you wanted to do was crawl back to your room and hide underneath your blankets forever.

But Margot pulls on your hand and ignores your childish wishes. When you arrive, she practically has to push you into the room.

And then every single thing, all of your hard work, the training, the learning, even the awkwardness of that day, was suddenly all worth it when you saw her for the first time.

She was curled up in the tank, cords attached to her body and eyes moving behind her closed lids. She floated gently around in the liquid that surrounded her, sometimes twitching a limb as she slept on.

You approach the tank, mind blank and mouth dry. As you get closer, you can see the details of her face, your face, just shifted into the feline-like features of a Na’vi.

She stole the breath straight from your lungs.

And that was how you spent the next few weeks, gazing at her slash yourself. Eventually, the time came for the first linkup, and everything went well, just like you had told Margot.

You spent the next month linking into your Avatar and wandering around the facilities, checking your reflexes and consuming everything Pandora had to offer while still in the confined space of Bridgehead City.

The disorientation from linking was enough to make you lay in a cot for an half an hour each time, too dizzy to move much. It’s such a bizarre feeling, suddenly being so much taller than everything else, and you are so much stronger than you are as a human.

It took a long time to remember your strength, and you accidentally put dents into a metal door handle when you grabbed it, squeezing it much harder than you meant to. The tiny little humans helping you gave you a pretty wide berth after that, only approaching when necessary.

You practiced using your new body, walking around without sitting on your long-haired queue or stepping on your new tail, which flailed around with a mind of its own. You liked to press your tongue to your sharp canines and look at the swaying tendrils attached to your hair.

It was an exhausting, thrilling process, and you loved every second of it.

None of the new Avatars had yet to actually leave Bridgehead and go into the forest yet. It would probably take a few more weeks for that to happen, and even then, you would probably only be allowed into the tree line past the Kill Zone.

Still, you eagerly look forward to that day, barely able to contain yourself in your excitement. It’s all you can think of day and night, and even in your dreams. On that day, you would be accomplishing so much more than a lifelong goal.  

Now, your group is relaxing in one of the lounges used for breaks, discussing your experience with linking and Pandora. It was something you’d been talking about for the past few hours, the past few weeks, really. It wasn’t like any of you had very much in common with each other, other than your careers and education, but you were trying to dig a little deeper to learn more about these people.

The only problem was they were more antisocial than not, which was almost to be expected by a bunch of scientists. They were also hesitant to speak much about their past. You were the same way. They probably wouldn’t be here if they had a very pleasant past filled with lots of people they wanted to stay with back home.

You eat the small bag of crackers you’d snagged from one of the vending machines lining the gray walls of the room, hoping that the tiny treat will hold you until your next meal. The chair you are leaning back in creaks dangerously and wobbles, but you hold your precarious position, feet pulled up and crossed on the table in front of you.

Your mind wanders as the chatter of the group drifts in and out of your ears. You think of nothing in particular, dazing out of focus, simply relaxing for once.

That peace is shattered when James leaps from his chair further down the table where he and Emma sit. They’re playing an old-fashioned card game; one you’ve never heard of before. When you asked James where he learned it from, he said his great-grandfather had taught it to him. Something called ‘Go Fish’.

James raises his arms above his head in apparent victory, grinning fiercely.

“That’s round three for me, Emma!”

Emma is giggling behind her hand, cheeks flushed a bright pink. She keeps her eyes on James as he playfully postures at winning, and the sight of her joy makes you grin.

You look across the table at Margot and wiggle your eyebrows. She laughs quietly, nodding in agreement.

Sweet Emma and James. You’re almost surprised that they developed such an obvious, big fat crush on each other out of all people, given that their personalities are so different.

Maybe opposites really do attract?

Whatever the reason may be, you hope your friends find happiness in one another. The world could certainly do with more love.  

Margot scoffs in disgust and curls her lip at her empty plate, apparently already over the tooth-rotting sweetness that was Emma and James.

She throws down her silverware onto the table and leans back in her chair, pout firm on her face.

“The food here is ass! You’d think a multi-trillion-dollar company would be able to feed its employees with something other than more fucking oatmeal. I’m so damn tired of oatmeal! It’s been most of our meals for the past month!”

“The supply shipment is late, you know that.” Is all you say. There is nothing to gain from arguing with Margot when she gets into one of these hungry moods.

“Then they need to make it un-late and bring me my fucking muffins!”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that ‘un-late’ isn’t even a word, but I do agree with you. Oatmeal reserves are getting pretty old.”

Margot nods vigorously, leaning forward and placing her hands on the table.

“Coup? Coup? Anybody interested?”

You throw back your head and laugh, “Margot, we’re not going throw a coup just because there aren’t any muffins! I thought you had saved a bunch of snacks the last time this happened?”

Margot deflates. “I ate them all already and the vending machines are out of my favorites!”

“Oh, Margot.”

“I know! Somebody just put me out of my misery.” She plants her face into her crossed arms on the table, moping.

“You know, you always complain about the food here, Margot, but that never seems to stop you from scarfing it down,” James says, putting himself into your conversation. He sits in his chair still, shuffling the deck of cards as he smirks at Margot.

“I have to eat it, it’s the only thing they have here!”

You open your mouth to say something, only to pause when a big blue hand reaches around the curve of the open doorway like something out of a horror movie. You sit there, gaping, as Colonel Quaritch crouches down through the opening and steps into the break room.

Margot, James, and Emma see your startled face and turn to see what you’re looking at. When they see Quaritch, they all lurch out of their seats to stand up straight. The cards Emma and James were playing with go flying all over the table and the ground, and Margot nearly knocks her plate off the table.

Quaritch straightens up and stands, several feet taller than any of you. He rests his hand on the holster of the belt wrapped around his trim waistline and practically cocks his hip as he looks directly at you.

You’re still sitting, cracker packet now crushed to a pulp in your right hand. When he looks at you, you finally jolt up to your feet. You dust off the cracker crumbs from your shirt as best you can, anxiety filling you.

“S-Sir!”

What the hell is he doing here!?

He saunters into the room until he’s standing by the table, just a few feet from you. You crane your head up to look at him, baffled and worried.

“Is there…anything you need, sir?” You can’t help the way your eyebrows scrunch up as you ask, clearly confused.

He stares down at you, head tilting to the side as if pondering something. Eventually, he speaks.

“Walk with me.”

And then he turns on his heel and ducks out of the room as quickly as he had entered. You stand, frozen, turning a bewildered stare to your group of friends. They stare back at you, just as perplexed, until Margot urges you to follow him with a push of her hand on your back.

You get your limbs to move and start walking after him, exiting the break room and finding him waiting. Once he sees you’re following after him, he continues walking down the hallway without a word.

The silence is almost uncomfortable as you walk several hallway lengths away from the lounge to some unknown destination. You’re almost tempted to break it to ask where the hell he’s taking you, but fear of his biting words keeps your mouth shut.

His legs are so long that his stride is practically jogging for you, and you have to speed walk so you don’t get left behind. He notices you struggling but doesn’t slow down one bit. In fact, the bastard smirks meanly at your frustration and funny walking pace.

You scowl at his amusement but refuse to say a word.

Finally, Quaritch stops in front of an enormous metal door, and he takes a key from his pocket and twists it into the lock on the doorknob. He opens it and walks in, and then gestures for you to do the same with an impatient wave of his hand.

You hurriedly scuttle in, freaking out even more. If he’s taking you to his office then he must have something serious to talk about, right? Was he going to punish you for what you said, was he going to yell at you, threaten you? You’re practically sweating, fingers twisting as your imagination goes wild.

You take a moment to break out of your thoughts and look around.

You pause.

You stand in the middle of the room, eyes locked onto one thing and one thing only: the large bed laying flush up against the corner of the space.

Who keeps a bed in their office? Is the first thing that comes to your mind. Confusion rushes through you and you look around the room, taking in the closet doors, the large desk tucked into the corner across the room parallel to the bed, the empty walls just as barren as your own room.

Your own room.

Ohmygod I’m in his room. Why would he bring me to his room!?

You whirl around, and Quaritch is standing so close to you that your face nearly smacks into his crotch.

You leap backward with a yelp and jump when Quaritch barks out a loud, unfriendly laugh and then sneers at you.

“I would’ve taken you to my office before, but it seems I don’t have one of those anymore. So, this’ll have to do.”

Confusion layered with frustration comes back to you, and your eyebrows furrow. “Do for what, sir?” You barely remember to tack on the ‘sir’ at the end of your sentence.

His face suddenly breaks out into a sharp-toothed grin, and he leans back, smug once more. You were really starting to get tired of that expression.

“I have a… proposition, for you.”

You barely refrain from turning a wide-eyed, horrified look at the bed.

Under any other circumstance, if a man had taken you to his bedroom and said he was propositioning you, you would be real worried. Red flags would pop up in your brain, mind demanding you flee fast.

But these aren’t normal circumstances, given that one of his arms alone is almost as big as your body. And you didn’t really get the impression that was something he was looking for right now, so you shake your head to get rid of any crude thoughts. You refuse to lower your guard, though, still uneasy.

“Uh, a proposition, sir?”

“Yes. You see, I’m under the firm belief that to destroy your enemies, you have to think like ‘em, be like ‘em. Kill like ‘em, eat like ‘em, shit like ‘em, that sorta thing.”

He takes a step closer and you take one back.

“And if I want to have even a snowball’s chance in hell of finding Jake Sully and the rest of the natives, I’m going to need to put myself in their shoes, metaphorically speaking. But most of the people here are military, marines, people with no knowledge of the Na’vi except how best to kill ‘em.”

“So. Who best to teach me how to be Na’vi other than one of the soft-hearted, limp-dicked scientists who just eats up Na’vi shit like it’s Mamma’s home-baked cookies?”

His yellow eyes burn into yours.

“One specific little scientist came to mind, you see, when I was thinkin’.”

You knew it was coming, but that doesn’t stop you from blanching. You shove a finger in your chest and point at yourself like an idiot.

“Me?”

Quaritch finally leans back, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, you.”

You sputter, mind going a thousand miles per hour.

“But-but, I’m not even an anthropologist, sir! I study foreign plant and-and animal life! Emma, she is the one in anthropology, you should talk to her!”

Quaritch scoffs.

“Emma Rodrigo can barely string a sentence together without pissin’ her pants, let alone teach me to do anythin’.” He crosses his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. His wicked teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting as he grins.

“Nah, I think it outta be you. Peach.”

Shit, shit, shit!

I was right, I should have just gone to my room and never come out.

“But-”

“You can say no, ‘course. This ain’t an order.” The look in his eyes says otherwise. If you decline, you’re sure you’ll either be cleaning toilets for the rest of your life or found dead with his knife in your gut. There is no going easy with this guy.

You gape at him, dumbstruck by the bizarre turn your day had taken. You had hoped you would never have to see this terrifying man ever again, fully prepared to cower and duck out of every room you saw him in. Now, he was asking you, of all people on this base, to teach him?

While this guy had the height and look of a Na’vi, he seemed to utterly despise everything about them. Was it even possible for him to learn anything about the Na’vi, their culture and their language, for it to really make a difference in whether he found them or not?

You weren’t even good at teaching! You were far better at learning and observing than educating people, and you had never been interested in changing that. Could you really teach this guy anything? Was he even capable of learning?

Your face hardens as you realize you’re faced with no other choice but to accept.

I guess we’ll see.

“You know, if you’re too chicken-shit to help me out, I could always get-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice comes out firm, as confidently as you dared to speak to him.

“…oh?” He raises an eyebrow, looking surprised. And skeptical, the asshole.

You nod your head, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You are nervous, yes, but it had been decided. There was no going back now.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yes. I’ll teach you everything you want to know about the Na’vi. But I-I also want something in return.”

His eyebrow raises higher.

You muster all the courage and audacity you can find in your body. Admittedly, there isn’t much, but you scrounge up enough to say the next few words aloud,

“In exchange for teaching you, I want you to teach me how to fight. I need to be able to protect myself when I’m out in the forest collecting samples, and I would ask one of my friends, but they can barely handle butter knives. And you are obviously…”

You eye him from top to bottom, eyes lingering on his massive arms before you can stop yourself.

“…capable.” You finish lamely, swallowing. You refuse to back down though, tilting your chin up and keeping eye contact.

Quaritch grins slowly.

“Well, little Peach, you certainly have bigger balls than I thought! It’s a deal-”

You hold your hand out for a handshake, palm open.

“To make it official.”

Quaritch glances down at your hand and then at your face, expression unreadable. And then, slowly, he reaches to grasp your hand and most of your arm once more. He pumps your entire arm down three times, eyes never leaving yours.

If you dared to think it, you might have thought he looked almost…impressed.

You clear your throat, face on fire. “So. When would work best for you, for our lessons?”

“…0500 every day for the next two months outta do it.”

Your eyes widen in horror, mouth dropping open all over again in protest. You barely keep yourself from grasping your chest in shock.

These military guys, did they never learn how to fucking sleep in!? That’s so damn early!

His sneering smirk returns to his face at your reaction, “Come on, Peach! Where’s your sense of adventure? You’ll tell me everything I need to know about the tree-fuckers, and I’ll teach you how to take a fist to the face, that sound good? About two hours each, four hours in total every single god-damn day. Good? Good.”

You sputter, hardly believing your ears. “Four hours every day? Don’t you have better things to do!?”

“Nope. My entire purpose for existing is to capture the traitor Jake Sully and end this war once and for all. With your help, I might actually be able to do that, which means that your time is now my time. Got it?”

You nod, queasy. It seems like all of your bravado from earlier had fled, leaving you with only the shakes and a bad feeling in your stomach.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl, Peach. Knew you had it in ya’!”

He claps your shoulder, and even through your shirt you can feel the warmth leaching off his hand and into your own skin.

The grin he wears makes you shiver, and you suddenly feel like prey that had just been caught by a predator, sharp teeth sinking into your neck and bleeding you dry.

He leads you to the door of his bedroom and practically tosses you out, done with you now that he had gotten what he wanted. He barely gives himself a chance to say, “See you bright an’ early tomorrow morning, Peach!” before he is slamming the door in your gawking face.

You stood outside his door for a few moments, simply processing. Eventually, you’re able to make your feet unstick from the floor and you wander back to the break room in a daze, mind clouded.

I can’t fucking believe that just happened. This is going to change my entire schedule for the next few months! Jesus Christ.

You practically stumble through the hallways toward your destination. Once you reach the door to the break room, you lean your arm against it and press your forehead into your arm. Your eyes close, and your heart jackhammers in your chest.

I don’t there’s anyone in my entire life who has ever made me as nervous as that guy. Holy shit.

You take deep breaths, trying to relax your muscles and get some air into your lungs. It takes a few moments, but eventually you’re able to get your heart rate down to a steady pump.

You lick your lips, suddenly parched.

When you lean up from your perch against the door and open your eyes, you can see the faint form of your face shining up from the metal of the door. Your pupils are blown, eyes still wide, and your cheeks are red.

He is seriously the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever met. And now I’m going to have to teach him things! I don’t know how I’m going to do it without passing out a few times, ohmygod. This is going to be miserable.

You swallow as best you can with a dry throat and shakily reach up to fix your messy hair, smoothing down flyaways. You straighten your shirt, crack your neck, and plaster a calm smile onto your face.

There’s no reason to let them know how terrified I am.

You open the door to the break room and step inside, ready to answer any questions they must surely have, and…

The room is empty.

You deflate, hand rubbing down your face and feeling embarrassed.

Of course they wouldn’t wait, we have a linking session in thirty minutes…that I am now late for. Fantastic.

------

You spend the rest of the day completely distracted, too worried about what might happen the next morning. It even took longer than usual for you to link into your Avatar, and when you were finally able to get outside, you had to answer to the swarm of nosy scientists you called your friends.

They were just concerned, you knew, but you didn’t like having to relive the entire stressful event down to the last detail. Still, you gave in and spilled, telling them about Quaritch’s ‘proposition’ (ha!) and leaving out the part where he had taken you to his bedroom.  

They had all given you looks that ranged from horrified -Emma-, sympathetic -Margot and James-, and utterly uncaring -David-.

You start drinking from your water bottle franticly after you tell them everything, feeling anxious all over again.

“Well, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing,” Margot says, expression turning contemplative. All members of your group are sitting outside around a creaky wooden table in your Avatar forms, enjoying the fresh, sweet air and the bright light of Pandora as the rays warm your cyan skin. When you tilt your head back to let it shine on your face, it almost feels like home had been before the pollution clouded the sky.

Your hearing in this form is incredibly sensitive, and it hurts to hear the loud, never-ending beeping and rumbling of production taking place. It had taken you weeks to spend much time outside, and even then, you still sometimes have to put your hands over your big pointy ears when the sounds become too overwhelming.

Margot curls her large fingers underneath her chin and props her head up in her hand, “I mean, you’ll learn to protect yourself, so there’s that. Also, um…” She looks at the rest of the group mischievously, and they all get questioning looks on their faces.

She clears her throat and leans in closer to you. She puts a hand in front of her mouth, blocking it from the others, and whispers into your ear,

“I really, really wouldn’t mind getting to see how big his dick actually is and maybe you’ll get a chance.”

You choke on the water pouring into your mouth, spraying it all over the table you are sitting at. The liquid gets caught in your throat, causing you to cough painfully.

“Oh my god, Margot!” you screech, still coughing into your elbow and voice coming out scratchy. Your watery eyes glare at her over your arm.

Margot shrugs, “What, I was just saying what we were all thinking. He’s the biggest guy here, which has gotta mean something, right?” She wiggles her eyebrows and grins salaciously, and you bury your face into your arm.

“If he ever heard you saying anything like that, he would put his knife straight through your face without even hesitating!”

“I’ll let him put something else in my face if he wants.”

“Margot!”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed that Colonel Miles Quaritch was a beautiful man. It would be impossible, really. Despite the sneer he always seemed to have on his face, the deep cyan of his skin, his wide, golden eyes, and his tall, broad frame were enough to make anybody swoon.

And his feline features weren’t the only thing that made him attractive. You could see his beauty in his long-fingered and broad hands, in his high cheekbones, in the curve of his lips even when they were curled up in disdain. 

It wouldn’t surprise you to learn that a lot of people thought he was attractive just because of his attitude, either. Back home it seemed that everyone was interested in the cocky, proud, manly posturing that Quaritch seemed to like to do.

But despite how pretty he may be, he was also absolutely, shit-your-pants terrifying, and an asshole, which was enough for you to keep it in your pants. That, and the fact that he hated your guts.

“Trust me, Margot, I’ll be too busy trying not to piss him off again to see how big anything is.”

Great, now I’m thinking about his dick.

Margot rolls her eyes but leans back in her seat and drops the subject, “Your loss, then.”

James strikes up a new topic, just as embarrassed as you, and you slouch gratefully back into your seat, glad that the interrogation is over.

It’s nearing darkness by the time you all finish your linking sessions, and the group shuffles their way back into the sleeping center for the Avatars. You move over to your assigned bed, crawling under the soft sheets and sighing deeply.

You lightly traced your right-hand index finger over the smooth skin of your left arm, causing goosebumps to rise. It was still so strange, being able to actually feel with a body that was yours but not, having so many new features that you still have to adjust to even weeks later. Having a whole-ass tail, being several feet taller than any human alive, having super strength, hell, even being blue was still just totally fucking weird.

You lay back into the cot and attempt to clear your mind from any thoughts, but it was just as hard as it had been when you had linked earlier. After a few minutes, you are finally able to silence your mind and drift off just enough for the link to become secure and for you to wake up in the gel link bed, back in your human body.

By the time you walk to your room, you are bone-wary, almost stumbling on your feet. You dread the coming morning, and the only thing you want to do now is turn off your brain and rest. Your shoulders hurt from the stress of the day, and when you finally unlock your bedroom door, take off your clothes, shower, and brush your teeth, you’re practically hunched over.

You shuffle under the covers once again, and you’re unconscious before your head can fully settle onto the pillow. 

------

Your eyes pop open, arms and legs flailing wildly in your sheets as you struggle to reach over to your alarm clock to silence its screaming. When you finally smack it, the crack of your hand connecting with its durable metal makes your palm sting angrily.

You let out a hoarse groan, cradling your hand to your chest as you flop down onto your bed. It had barely felt like you had gotten a wink of sleep last night, too busy thinking about your approaching morning with Quaritch. Scenarios ranging from you accidentally stabbing him to him purposefully stabbing you ran through your head, keeping you awake after only a few hours of rest.

Eventually, you stop your moping and reluctantly pull yourself out of your bed, eyes blearily glaring around your room.

It’s still a gray and sad little space, your room, but you had placed the small number of personal items you brought with you to Pandora throughout it. The one picture you had of your parents sits framed on your desk, along with your holotablet.  

The few items of clothing and the two pairs of shoes you owned were put up in your closet haphazardly, and your hygienic amenities were scattered across the small bathroom connected to your room.

Your room and areas beyond it are all so generic and boring, which is why you spend most of your time either with your group or outside in your Avatar, being able to run around and feel. And once you were finally able to leave Bridgehead, your life would start, and it wouldn’t matter what your room looked like.

You tiredly get dressed and brush your teeth and your wild hair, putting it up into a simple ponytail to keep it out of your face. Once you’re suitable, you head out and lock the door behind you, placing the key in the right pocket of your jeans.

The hallways are quiet for once, and even the incessant roaring of construction has stopped. You walk down the softly lit hallways to the mess hall, unreasonably jealous of the people who get to sleep in their beds.

Most of the lights are off when you walk in, but to your surprise, there are a few people sitting down at a table already eating their breakfast.

Guess my assumption about the military was right, they really don’t know how to sleep in.

To your delight, there is a light amount of muffins and bagels laid out on a table nearby, but the most important thing was the coffee pot next to them.

Looks like the shipment finally came in. Margot is going to piss her pants.

You gladly snag two muffins with napkins and two small cups of coffee, heading right back out the door to the hallway with a friendly smile to the person walking in. They look blankly back at you, but you don’t mind as you stuff a chocolate chip muffin into your mouth as you walk.

You shuffle the remaining muffin and cups into your left hand and elbow crook, grasping the cold metal handle of the glass door that leads into the center with your right hand. You can see a head of black curls poke out from the side of a monitor, followed quickly by a scowl and a pair of eyes glaring blearily at you as you walk in.

You wince. “Morning, Tom. Thanks again for doing this, I really appreciate it.”

Tom had been the unlucky soul you had asked to help link you into your Avatar every morning for the foreseeable future. He had balked when you had asked, saying “Hell no!” before the words were fully out of your mouth. You had leveled him with your best begging look and offered to pay for six of the ridiculously expensive books you know he liked to read coming in on the next supply shipment.

He grouchily agreed to the deal but demanded you bring him breakfast every morning. You had accepted with a pleased smile.

Tom rolls his eyes and snatches the cup of coffee from your hand when you offer it. You’re about to warn him about how hot it was when he gulps half of it down. You watch, halfway impressed and halfway feeling the pain for him in your own throat.

“Let’s get started, then.” His voice is even more crackly than yours is this early.

You nod hurriedly and take one last sip of your coffee before you reluctantly set it down on the table. You walk over to the link bed and crawl in, and Tom pulls the cover down over you. You settle in, closing your eyes to clear your mind.

------

“There ya’ are, Peach! I was startin’ to think you’d chickened out on me.” Quaritch’s loud voice startles you out of your sleepy trance, and your head snaps up from where it is laying against the metal table you are sitting at.

The asshole looks as awake and lucid as usual, not a hint of tiredness on his face. He grins nastily when he sees your sleepy expression.

“We didn’t agree on a place to meet up, sir.” You are barely able to cover your yawn with a hand, and you stand with a grimace.

“That is true. From now on, we’ll do our lessons in Courtyard Six. Try to keep up.”

He turns and walks away, clearly expecting you to follow. You hurry to catch up with his long stride, but it’s much easier to do in this form. He’s almost ten feet tall, but your Avatar is eight and a half feet tall, and you are able to lengthen your stride to match his pace. Your shoulder width and muscles are still much smaller than his, but you imagined most were.

As you step in close to him, your nose twitches, and you realize something that almost makes you trip.

Quaritch smells really, really good.

You lean in closer to him and inhale discreetly, deeper than before, and, yep, that scent is definitely coming from him.

It is such a rich scent, a strange combination of rainwater, black coffee, and something smoky, like a campfire.  

The smell is so strong that it feels like a physical mist floating its way through your nose and ears and into your head. Your mind goes fuzzy, as if suddenly stuffed with cotton. Your lips and fingertips tingle. And to your absolute horror, you can actually feel your mouth start to water.

It’s just such a lovely scent.

Do you think he’d be okay with it if I pressed my nose into his neck to smell him better-No!

You try to break out of the mist, shaking your head to get rid of the images of licking up his neck, tasting his skin, the way his head would tilt back and you would be able to feel his rumbling groan spread through his chest pressed up against your own and-

Stop it! Jesus Christ, don’t even think about it!

This is just a completely normal physical reaction, right? Maybe, but it wasn’t like this with the other guys!

In front of you, Quaritch’s footsteps stutter to a stop for a split second before resuming. It’s barely a pause, but it’s enough to make you snap out of your thoughts and look up at him. When you do, you notice the slight twitching of his own feline-like nose.

Is he smelling the same thing?

He turns his head around slightly to look at you, and you make eye contact with him just enough to notice his pupils are blown out, consuming most of his iris.

My eyes are probably no better, you think, before ducking your head to watch your feet as you walk.

Quaritch stares at you for a moment and then turns his attention back toward the path, and you do the same. You discreetly rub at your sensitive nose, trying to get his fantastic scent out of your head. A few moments after you do, Quaritch rubs at his own nose.

It doesn’t work, but by the time you reach the courtyard you’ve already gotten a little used to it. Thankfully you don’t feel as lightheaded anymore, but you have no idea if it is going to come back.

You notice that the sky has begun to lighten up as Quaritch unlocks the chain-link gate leading into the yard. Not that you really need any light, what with being able to see in the dark and all.

 He stops once you enter and closes the gate behind you, and you can immediately tell why he had chosen this courtyard out of all the others. It was hidden behind a big wall of concrete that had no windows, so nobody could see you from inside the building, and it was positioned all the way in the back of the court section, meaning it was far more remote and private than the others.

Probably doesn’t want his tough guy image to be hurt when people saw him learning about the Na’vi and chatting with a little scientist, the prick.

The enclosure is a simple little area with a small basketball court, a tetherball pole, and a metal table. Nothing special, but it would be perfect for your lessons. 

He turns around to meet your eyes, and you still have to tilt your head back to return his yellow gaze. The bioluminescent markings on his face glow brightly.  

“You wanna go first, Peach?”

You swallow nervously but nod, “I’ll go first. I thought a lot about what our first lesson was going to be last night.”

You drop down onto the soft faux grass that covered the courtyard, legs crisscross applesauce in front of you as you avoid sitting on your flicking tail. You look up at him expectantly when he continues to stand.

Quaritch looks at the table sitting just a few feet away and shrugs. He plops down onto the grass hesitantly and crosses his legs in front of him the same as you. Now that he’s actually here, all the plans you made completely leave your brain, and you mind turns blank as you struggle to come up with something to say. You both sit there in silence for a few moments before he says,

“So are you actually going to say anything in this lesson or what? Usually I can’t get you quacks to shut the fuck up-”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just trying to figure out where to start. Um…” Your brain flashes to what Quaritch had said when he started this whole thing, wanting to learn more about the way the Na’vi think, what’s important to them, how they work.

“Okay. Well, I guess the first place to start would be at the very beginning. Millions of years ago, when-”

Quaritch interrupts you with a loud groan, throwing his head back in exasperation, “I’m not askin’ for a history lesson here, Peach. Just tell me about them now, how they operate now, in this time, not millions of years ago! Jesus Christ, you pretentious assholes always have to drag things out-”

“Okay, alright, I’m sorry! Um, so the most important thing to know about the Na’vi is their connection to nature, their connection to Eywa. You’ve heard about Her, right?”

You continue to speak when Quaritch nods. “Right, well, She protects the balance of life here on Pandora, and the Na’vi love Eywa, the Great Mother. All things on Pandora are connected to each other through Eywa; you, me, plants, animals, you name it. Life and the forest are sacred to them because it bonds them to Eywa. They can actually speak to Her, and there are places like the Tree of Souls and the Tree of Voices that are sacred to them. They connect all the Na’vi to Eywa and to their ancestors, and they can actually hear the voices of past living people, isn’t that amazing? Are you with me so far?”

Quaritch nods again, surprisingly quiet. In fact, it’s probably the longest you’ve ever seen him be silent. His face is carefully blank, eyebrows furrowed with some unnamed emotion as he listens to you speak.

And that’s how the next two hours go, you talking and Quaritch listening with rapt attention. You had no idea if what you were talking about was anything Quaritch wanted to hear, but he didn’t interrupt you other than to ask a rare question.  

About an hour in you stood up and stretched, bones popping and limbs aching from sitting on the ground for so long. Your ass was practically numb, and your left leg was stinging with pins and needles. You put your hands on your hips and looked down at Quaritch, who remained sitting on the grass.

For the first time ever, you were actually the one towering over him, and the thought made you grin as he looked up at you.

It seemed he could tell what you were thinking, because he scowled and pulled himself up on his feet, looming over you once more. He stretched his long arms above his head to get the blood flowing back in, groaning just like you had a moment ago.

You paused your own movement, gaze lingering on the way his strong muscles shifted underneath his pretty blue skin. They bunched up as his arms flexed, and your mouth turned dry.

Your eyes flickered over them for a few moments and then shifted to his face. Your stomach swooped low as you realized he had caught you looking, and you stared at him in mortification as his sneering, arrogant smile returned full force to his face. He looked so smug.

You had no idea your Avatar could even blush from embarrassment, but your cheeks burned all the same. You hurriedly turned your gaze away from him entirely, eyes squeezed shut.

He let out a low, unpleasant chuckle, clearly taking immense pleasure in your misery.

Asshole!

You stood for a few more minutes, back facing him as you pretended to examine the sky with incredible interest, waiting for your blush to fade and your stomach to settle. Eventually, you both sat on the grass once again, and you resumed your speech.

You talked about all things Na’vi related, from their connection to Eywa to what they wore, what they ate, their ceremonies, anything that popped into your head that you felt was important to mention.

In the grand scheme of things, you weren’t able to cover very much ground before your two hours were up and your lesson ended for the day.

By this time, Pandora’s light has returned from the eclipse, shining down brightly on both of you.

“So, how did I do?” you dare ask Quaritch.

“Well. Now I know what a Na’vi eats for breakfast, so. That’s something.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands, “I’m sorry, you said you wanted to know what they ate and everything! I promise we’ll eventually get into the more interesting and important things.”

Please don’t put me on toilet duty. I can do this!

Quaritch sighs, but says, “Don’t worry, Peach. We’ll get to the juicier parts someday. Learning to be one’s enemy is a long process, after all.”

He smacks his thighs, and the sound makes you jump, face moving away from your hands. Your nerves reignite in your stomach all over again as you realize it is now time for your lesson.

Why did I ever ask him to do this!? I should never have said anything, now I’m going to be Quaritch’s punching bag for the next few months! Idiot!

A sharp-toothed grin stretches over Quaritch’s face, and he leans in until he’s right in front of you, face close to yours. His yellow eyes bore into yours, and you can see your own terrified expression reflecting right back at you.

“Time for me to teach you, Peach.”

------

 “Alright, Peach. You know how to handle a knife?”

You think about it and shake your head.

“…Okay. Do you know how to throw a punch?”

Again, you shake your head.

Quaritch curses and takes a step back, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the middle finger of his right hand between them as if praying for patience.

Both of you are standing in the middle of the small basket court, facing one another. You refuse to feel embarrassed by Quaritch’s reaction to your fighting skills, or lack thereof.

Not everyone can be a terrifying killing machine, asshole!

Quaritch seems to get the patience he was asking for, straightening up with a sigh.

“Back to the basics, then. Jesus.”

He steps up to you and places his warm, large hands on the bare skin of your shoulders. He shuffles you over closer to him, and you go willingly, body tense.

“First step in learning to defend yourself is to not be a pussy.”

Wow. Wonderful advice.

“You need to be firm in your stance and your attack, else your opponent will just be able to knock you off your feet before you can even land a hit. And if your limbs are loose, you’ll lose your balance and go flying just from your own force. Keep your core tight.”

He places a large hand firmly against the bare skin of your stomach and you suck in a surprised breath. His touch tingles through you in a way you’ve never felt before, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

He jerks his hand back and clears his throat. He walks around toward your back, and you can see the veins in his arm shift when his hand flexes by his side.

“When you throw a punch, you need to keep your wrist straight and fully extend your arm each time. Make sure you step like this,” he demonstrates, “and pull your arm like this.”

“Keep your thumb behind your index and middle fingers but out of your fist, don’t stick your pinky out, and you want to hit your opponent with these knuckles right here. Got it?”

You nod slowly, making a fist following his instructions with your right hand. He nods once and then moves in front of you. He lifts his hands in the air, palms facing outward.

“Hit me.”

Already? But I barely even- alright, you know what, I don’t even care anymore.

You shake out your arms self-consciously and try to position your body in the way he had shown you. You pull your arms up, hands folding into fists, stance widening, and you lash your arm out at him with all the strength you can muster.

Your right fist smacks against his open palm with a satisfying thwack, and you grin, tossing your arms above your head at your success.

“Your form was good, Peach, but your fist felt like getting hit with a bug. You need to work on your strength, build up your muscles and your core. Try again.”

You nod, arm flying out and hitting his palm once more.

“No, you need to keep your arm tucked in, not flying out like an idiot bird with a broken wing. Again.”

You hit his hands over and over for the next half an hour as he corrects your form and stance. As he said, you need to build your strength up in this new body, but this was a good start. He has to get in pretty close once again to show you how to move your body, but other than he seems to keep his distance.

You know, this isn’t so bad!

You hit him again a few more times before he nods, satisfied, and drops his arms.

“Now you know how to hit somebody hard, Peach. Always go for sensitive places, like the nose, groin, ears, eyes, kidney, wherever you can reach. Got it?”

You lower your own arms, panting. Reaching out to punch him hadn’t taken much movement from your arms, but doing it over and over again for half an hour made them ache terribly. You struggle to catch your breath.

It had been embarrassing, admittedly, the first few times. You had felt shy and scared all at once, unsure of yourself and uneager to be anywhere near Quaritch, let alone close enough to touch him.

Then you’d lost most of the fear the second time he had lightly smacked your cheek when he got through your defensively positioned arms. They were pretty much love taps, practically pats, but it had lit an angry fire in your stomach. Your uneasiness turned to determination to land at least one hit on him, and you forgot all about your trepidation and that this was Quaritch you were tussling with.

From the way he had grinned and curled his fingers in a ‘come-hither’ gesture, that was probably what he had been trying to do.

He also probably just liked hitting you, the dickbag.

Quaritch nods, and you fully expect him to end the lesson early for the day. What you weren’t expecting was for him to reach down and pull a massive knife from its sheath on his right thigh, bringing it up toward the light for examination.

You lean back quickly, ears flicking to the sides of your head in alarm. You had thought your punching lesson had seemed tame for him! It really wouldn’t surprise you if he decided you needed a lesson on keeping your guard up and lunged at you.  

He won’t stab me, he won’t stab me, he won’t stab me, he won’t stab me-

“This here’s a bowie knife, seventeen inches of serrated steel strong enough to cut through bone.”

He waves it around carefully, smirking at your wide-eyed look of terror.

“And this…” he leans down to put the knife back in its sheath before pulling out something else from a different pocket on his right leg, “This is your knife.”

The little knife is comically small in his giant hand, more of a switchblade than anything else.

“That’ll be the knife you use for the next week at least, so don’t lose it.”

You pluck it from his hand gingerly, fingers folding around the base as you bring it up to your eyes for closer inspection. It looks bigger in your hand than it did in his, and you can see his initials, M.Q, engraved on its tiny metal handle.

Why the hell would a guy as big as Quaritch even need a knife this small? Does he use it as a toothpick?

Nonetheless, you’re glad he didn’t give you anything bigger to use for your first time. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it without stabbing yourself.

He shows you how to hold it, how to slash and stab, the proper way to stand and lunge with the little blade.

After another half an hour, he nods.

“Alright, now I want you to try me.” He says, pulling his arms up close to his chest and goading you on once again with a ‘come at me’ curled hand gesture, cocky smirk in place.

You balk. “You want me to charge at you with a knife already? We just got started!”

“Yep, sure did. What, you think you could actually touch me, let alone hurt me with that little thing? Ha!”

You wince. That’s a good point.

You do what he taught you to, adjusting your grip on the blade and positioning your body and feet into the dirt, tightening your core. You take a deep breath, strengthen your muscles, and then leap with a cry.

Quaritch shifts out of the way of your knife quicker than you had yet to see him move, simply stepping to the side with an unsurprised expression.

You go sailing past him, war cry turning panicked. You drop the knife and jerk up your arms to cover your face, turning away and squeezing your eyes shut.

Just as you start tilting toward the dirt, a hand grips the back of the collar of your shirt and pulls you upright before you can even realize you aren’t falling anymore. You remained positioned for impact, hands still in front of your face to cushion your fall even as you stand on your own two feet.

You open your eyes and blink, hands patting down your front as if to make sure no injury had been done to your person.

Quaritch lets go of your collar, knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“That was fuckin’ pathetic! It was like a wet paper bag was throwin’ itself my way. And where the hell did you learn to cry out like that, ‘cause it was fuckin’ embarrassin’.”

You pay no attention to his harsh words, still stunned you hadn’t face-planted into the dirt for once.

You look up at him, starry-eyed.

“That was amazing, Quaritch! You moved so fast I could barely see you! Have you always been that quick or is it new? Could you teach me how to dodge like that?”

He stares down at you, ears flicking back against the sides of his head. An odd expression crosses his face, almost as though he was taken aback by your wonder.

He clears his throat awkwardly, turning to the side to avoid your strong eye contact.

“That doesn’t matter, not with that pathetic performance. You need ta’ be firm, like I said, and not throwin’ your weight ‘round like a pussy. Come on, do it again.”

You reach down into the dirt to pick up your little knife, and you lunge at him again. He dodges all the same, but you surprise the both of you when you don’t stop, turning around and slashing in his direction.

Of course, the blade doesn’t even touch him, but it’s the thought that counts.

He grins at you, “There you go, Peach! Way to show some initiative, I’ll make a fine soldier out of you yet. Let’s go again, come on.”

And that’s how you end your morning, trying to stab Colonel Miles Quaritch with a knife the size of one of his fingers. You’d have never thought this was where you would be when you met him all those weeks ago, but hey, if learning from him would one day save your life, you’d do it gladly.

By the time two hours have passed, you’re sweating and panting for breath, hands on your knees. Your body was still new, and you hadn’t been in it long enough for you to get past light jogging and reflex training. Honestly, the fact that you were able to do all that moving without collapsing was a god-damn miracle.

You were so much faster in this form, so much more flexible and stronger. Still, that held no comparison to the trained, experienced combat vet you were practically playing with. Because that’s what this would be called, not fighting or even training. It was like playing tag or a slapping game, cause that’s all that happened for the entire lesson.

Quaritch, the fucker, doesn’t have a drop of sweat on him. His chest rose and fell evenly, and he rested one of his hands on the gun holster he had wrapped around his hips.

“You good, Peach? Not going to puke, are ‘ya?” You’d be flattered by his concern for your well-being if it weren’t for the mean, amused tone layering his voice when he spoke.

You stay bent over for a few more moments as you struggle to catch your breath. Eventually, you’re able to rise fully upright. You answer his question, even though you know it was rhetorical,  

“I-I’m good, I think.”

Just as you finish your sentence, your stomach growls angrily, as though enraged at being denied sustenance.

Ugh.

If you weren’t exhausted and beyond caring about what Quaritch thought of you, with your floppy, sweaty form and shitty punches, you would have been embarrassed. Now, though, the only thing you do is pout. Now, you were just a little pissed and tired at getting your ass thoroughly kicked for two hours.

“I’m hungry, can we be finished for the day?”

Quaritch rolls his eyes, unimpressed, but relents.

“Yeah, Peach, we’re done. Let’s get goin’.”

You grin, relieved, and your energy returns just slightly at the thought of lunch. You bound to his side, and he leads the way out of the courtyard and into the space beyond.

The day is in full swing, scientists, soldiers, robots, and trucks all bustling around Bridgehead as you follow Quaritch close on his heels to the mess hall.

You pass by all the tiny little humans, most of whom don’t even spare either of you a glance. Either because they were used to seeing ten-foot-tall Avatars walking around or because they were too busy to give a shit. Probably both, really.

You both have to duck as you walk through the doorway, Quaritch much more than you. You walk over to the table where you had snagged the muffins for breakfast earlier that morning, grabbing three of the sandwiches that were there now instead.

Quaritch grabs six of them, piling them all onto his plate.

You’ve just started scarfing yours down when a large hand whips out across your back, slamming into you. You inhale instinctively and start choking on your food, struggling to breathe. You turn around, fully ready to smash your sandwiches into the face of whichever fucker did that when you see Quaritch’s walking away, waving the spare hand not holding his food up behind him.

“See you ‘round, Peach.”

Oh. Well, at least he said goodbye.

You drink from the water bottle you’d snagged from the mass hall and eat your sandwiches as you walk to the showering station for Avatars. You stay under the pounding warm water longer than you probably should, enjoying the way it soothes the ache in your tense arms and shoulders.

After you’re done washing away the sweat and grime, you head back to the Avatar resting area, ready to be in your own body.

It had taken you a while to learn how to hold onto the brain link connecting your bodies; the first few weeks were the worst when you were learning to hold it longer and longer. Sometimes it would break, and you would slam back into your human body with a gasp, disoriented and head pounding.

Now, though, you were much better at holding onto the link for longer periods, even if it still gave you a headache.

You settle back into the pillows, closing your eyes and letting your mind go blank.

------

When you wake up in your human body, it always feels stuffy, not right, like you’re being squeezed into a tube. Your mouth is always cottony, too, and even though your body was simply laying down like you were asleep, your bones always ache when you get up as if you’ve been doing jumping jacks for however long you were in there.

You step out of the link bed, stretching your arms above your head and groaning. Tom is no longer in the linking center, but you didn’t expect him to be when there were others milling about who could watch over you.

You stand up and wobble a little bit, dizzy. Once it passes and you’re sure you can walk without smacking into anything, you make your way back toward your room, fully intent on sleeping for the rest of the afternoon before the conference in the evening.

Just as you leave the linking center, Margot runs into you, hair wild and eyes a little bit crazy. She grabs onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth lightly. You let her do whatever she wants, beyond caring.

“How did it go? Did he yell at you, did he flirt any? Ooh, did he smack your ass-? Hey!”

You shake her hands off, walking past her with a roll of your eyes.

“Jesus Christ Margot, you really need to get laid.”

She groans, following after you with quick steps, waving her arms around as she says, “I know! There’s just no one I’ve seen that I’m interested in, so I have to live through you and your sexy romance with Colonel Quaritch-”

You halt, turning around to grab her shoulders. You’re the one shaking her back and forth this time.

“Listen, Margot, there is nothing going on with Quaritch and me at all, nothing sexy, nothing flirty! We literally just met like two days ago, and he’s hated me ever since! Now stop saying stuff like that, or he’s going to overhear us, again, and kill us both. Okay? Okay.”

Margot whines, “Oh, but maybe there could be! If you were just a little less uptight and he was a little less homicidal, you guys could totally get together. I mean, you can’t deny that he might be interested, right? I totally saw the way he was looking at you yesterday!”

“Yeah, he was looking at me like he wanted to wrap his hands around my throat.”

“Kinky.”

“No, Margot, not kinky! More like murderous! You’re starting to sound crazy, Margot, you’ve gotta do something before you start humping anything that moves.”

Margot blushes, finally feeling some sort of shame, and she nods, “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just so pent-up, honey. Ugh! Okay, I’m going to try to relax somewhere, get outta my head for a little bit. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

You pat her shoulder and say, “See you then, Margot.”

She gives you one last smile before she’s off, bounding down the hallway. You shake your head in fond exasperation, now even more tired than before, and walk back to your room. You adored Margot, loved her, but sometimes her exuberance made your head pound.

You unlock your door, kick off your shoes, and toss yourself onto the unmade sheets of your bed. One last thought floats through your mind just before you drift off to sleep.  

Maybe mornings with Quaritch won’t be as bad as I thought.

peachy keen. Part Two

[tsukikonikushimi]

Avatar the Official Cookbook of Pandora (Recipe Masterlist)

I have finally gotten my hands on the cookbook. So there are four chapters, I will start posting them, but with what should i start?

Further down there's the list of recipes, if somone wants a specific one, write it down in the comments.

Omatikaya Offerings: (11/11) -> COMPLETED

1st Recipe -> OVUMSHROOM BURGER: Here

2nd Recipe -> FORAGED FRUITS BREAKFAST: Here

3rd Recipe -> HALLELUJAH MOUNTAIN CUPS: Here

4th Recipe -> WOODLAND MUSHROOM RAMEN: Here

5th Recipe -> PARADISE COCKTAIL: Here

6th Recipe -> TACO SURPRISE: Here

7th Recipe -> RAINFOREST SOURDOUGH TOAST: Here

8th Recipe -> GREEN SHAKSHUKA: Here

9th Recipe -> BOTANIST’S LUNCH BOWL: Here

10th Recipe -> HUNTERS’ TRAIL MIX: Here

11th Recipe -> HARMONY SALAD: Here

RDA Rations: (14/14) -> COMPLETED

1st Recipe -> FRONTIER PANCAKES: Here

2nd Recipe -> WARRIOR "WINGS": Here

3rd Recipe -> HELL’S GATE CORNBREAD MUFFINS: Here

4th Recipe -> RDA CORN RIBS: Here

5th Recipe -> LOCKED AND LOADED TORTILLA CHIPS: Here

6th Recipe -> UNOBTANIUM ENERGY BITES: Here

7th Recipe -> BRIDGEHEAD CITY BURGER: Here

8th Recipe -> HYBRID MAC ‘N’ CHEESE: Here

9th Recipe -> SUPERCHARGED STEAK: Here

10th Recipe -> BASE CAMP BAKED PASTA: Here

11th Recipe -> COMMAND CENTER CHIPS AND DIP: Here

12th Recipe -> SKIPPER STEW: Here

13th Recipe -> INTERSTELLAR SOUP: Here

14th Recipe -> SCRAMBLED TOFU WRAP: Here (Poll for next time) NEW!!

Metkayina Bounty: (9/14)

1st Recipe -> SMOKED TROUT ROLLS: Here

2nd Recipe -> ZESTY SEAWALL SKEWERS: Here

3rd Recipe -> NA’VI SUPER SMOOTHIE BOWL: Here

4th Recipe -> SPICY SQUID MORSELS: Here

5th Recipe -> SEA SHIMMER POKE BOWL: Here

6th Recipe -> REEF BITES: Here

7th Recipe -> SEAGRASS TOFU STACKS: Here

8th Recipe -> OCEAN ORZO: Here

9th Recipe -> ZINGY FLASH-FRIED SHRIMP: Here

TBA

Clan Feasts: (11/11) -> COMPLETED

1st Recipe -> HALLELUJAH CELEBRATION CAKE: Here

2nd Recipe -> LUMINESCENT ICE POPS: Here

3rd Recipe -> CHOCOLATE BARK OFFERING: Here

4th Recipe -> PANDORAN PARTY PLATTER: Here

5th Recipe -> BLUE SEAS TEAR-AND-SHARE GARLIC BREAD: Here

6th Recipe -> HOMETREE PLATTER: Here

7th Recipe -> PURPLE SKY COOKIES: Here

8th Recipe -> SWEET AND STICKY CHICKEN: Here

9th Recipe -> CELEBRATORY CLAN ROAST: Here

10th Recipe -> SANCTUARY STEW: Here

11th Recipe -> TOTEM DIP: Here

Omatikaya's recipes:

RDA's:

Metkayina's:

Clan's:

[plooto]

⋆˙✧⋆｡ kinkmas day 3 — lingerie + stockings ｡⋆✧˙⋆

warnings ❆. inter-species ! established ! relationship , reader is scientist , pet names ( doll , little colonel , princess , darlin’ , pumpkin ) , cursing , using the ‘lord’s name in vain’ , daddy kink , marking , size kink , lingerie , stockings , fingering , p i v , soft quaritch , pwp .

now playing : baby it’s cold outside ; idina menzel ft michael dublé

1:23 ────|───── 1:23

volume : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯

you couldn’t ignore how frustrated your nine-foot tall boyfriend has been these past few weeks..his shoulders were more tense than normal and you were sure his boss was doing her favorite thing - talking his ear off. you had the night off tonight, working real hard around the freezing bridgehead city, to give your boyfriend some much needed tlc.

except, that was the last thing on your mind - tender loving care. you wanted to make his troubles wash away, and not with deep muscle back rubs.

you’d been hiding a pretty white lace outfit, one you managed to get your hands on after miles mentioned something about seeing you in something different.

“ y’always talkin’ ‘bout lookin’ pretty, right doll? ” you sat up on his stomach, palms pressing against his chest as you looked at him with his favorite pair of eyes - doe like and sinfully innocent. nodding your head, you waited for his response.

“ o‘course, i prefer you with nothing at all, ” he gives you a smirk, tilting his head as big golden eyes raked down your form, drinking in the sight of you. he taps your thigh gently, “ but, somethin’ sheer, the lacey one that cover yer body, what- what’s that called again- ” you look up to the ceiling, eyebrows pulling together as you thought.

“ lingerie? ” you asked with a tilt of your head. he sucked his teeth, flashing you a devious smile as his mind filled with possibilities.

“ that’s the thing..lingerie. ”

and tonight was the night that you would use it - to make his mind numb. you were nervous as you walked from your room to his, praying to the deity the na’vi believed in that no one would look in your direction to notice your legs donned a prettier set of stockings. with pounding heart and shaky hands, you tugged the lab coat tighter as you tried not to listen to how loud your little mary janes were tapping against the grippy floor tile. as you got closer to his room, you moved a bit faster.

“ hey, little colonel. ” your blood went cold as you froze, you were so close. you slowly turned to see corporal lyle.

“ oh, hi lyle. ” your voice cracked, praying he ignored it and the riding heat to your face. he places his hands on his hips and didn’t bother to kneel down to your height,

“ the colonel isn’t in there yet, ” your eyebrows raised to feign surprise. you knew he wasn’t back yet, you were supposed to be the surprise. pulling your head out of the clouds you shuffled uncomfortably on your feet, partially from friction of the lab coat through the lace, partially from the freezing temperatures of the building. lyle took a heavy breath through his respirator, waiting for your response as if fell against his chest.

“ oh! um.. could you tell him i’ll be in here? i- i need to talk to him..about something.. ” the recom before you nodded, eyebrow raising as he committed your request to memory,

“ sure, i’ll pass along the message. ” you thanked him, waiting for him to leave before pressing your thumb to the keypad, tip toeing to reach it. the hiss from the door mimicked the sigh that left your lips. you slipped inside immediately and waited for the door to close. your shoulders dropped with relief as you looked around the room, walking around to decide where you should wait for him. you looked around, your brain moving thousands of miles an hour trying to come up with a plan that would have him weak at the knees. you didn’t hear the door open, but you did hear the thud of his boots against the ground as they got louder and louder.

“ darlin’? lyle said you wanted to talk t’me. ” you turned your head to him, but not turning fully.

“ w- wait! ” you fumbled out, hearing his footsteps halt immediately, you chewed on your bottom lip, deepening it’s color as you thought. cursing under your breath, you removed the lab coat, letting it fall to the ground. you heard his breath hitch, not knowing what to expect, you screwed your eyes shut.

“ y- fuck, turn around f’me. ” swallowing the rising lump in your throat, you did as you were told, not lifting your head from the imaginary dot on the ground.

“ look at me, princess. ” the masses of butterflies in your stomach took flight, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him. you heard the taps of his boots on the ground, the next moment, you saw his dark camo of his pants bend in front of you, a warm hand cupping under your chin. miles turned your face to force your eyes to look at his,

“ y’did all this f’me? ” you nod shyly. his ears pin back, a gentle smile, one that was exclusively for your eyes only, spreading across his face. “ turn around, lemme take a look at ya. ” when your eyes widen ever so slightly miles places a kiss to your lips, calming your nerves as if he could smell them. your hands went to his wrists, an attempt to keep him there, the need for him to drink away all your frets in the front of your mind.

as miles pulls away from the kiss, his hands move to your waist, giving you a gentle push backwards so he can take a proper look at you. one hand down at his side, the other rests on his knee as he watches you turn with dilated eyes.

“ slower. ” he stretched the o sound, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth - admiring how the hem and how it sunk into the supple flesh of your ass nicely. he resisted giving your plump cheeks a pinch, but he couldn’t help wrapping his fingers around your waist, pulling you to sit on his raised knee. you yelped, not expecting your feet to leave the ground. miles was excited, eyes burning with lust - a feeling he hasn’t felt since his teen years. a feeling only you could provoke.

“ y’don’t know what y’re doin’ to me darlin- ” the hardness in his pants throbbed as you squirmed in his lap, your arousal seeping through the lacy material and the aroma reaching his nose.

“ do y’like it? ” using his speech pattern you inquired. his smirk grew, miles pulled your wrist in his hand, leading you to feel the bulge in his pants - the problem you created. he watched as your face warmed when you felt how hard he was, how hard you made him.

propping you on his bicep, he slipped out of his shoes, sauntering over to the bed before unceremoniously dropping you on it.

“ oomph! mil- ” he silenced you with a hard kiss to your lips. miles quaritch wasn’t a patient man thoroughly displayed when he tore the bottom half of the pretty lace.

“ i’ll find you new ones. ” he reasoned as he sucked harsh kisses into your neck, textured tongue dancing over the dark splotches. large fingers found their way between your thighs, teasing your slicked entrance. you cursed, fingers finding the elastic of the stocking to pull them off.

“ ah-ah.. ” in a swift motion, your hands were pinned above your head, miles sitting up higher to peer at your pouted lips.

“ so pretty. ” he murmured to himself. your lips parted, dead set on scolding him for teasing you, instead a moan tumbled from them.

he pushed a finger into you, groaning as he felt your warmth invite him. his finger was big, you felt full, yet not nearly as full as you should be.

“ ah! mi- ” you started, whimpering when you felt his finger leave leave your core,

“ y’know better than that w’did i teach you? ” you whined, hips grinding against nothing,

“ daddy please~ ” you pleaded, with a smirk he tugged the lace down off your chest, exposing your chest, nipples growing taut from the cold air. you gasped - you should have known this wasn’t going to make it past this night.

“ good girl. ” he growled, head dipping to latch onto your nipple, two fingers plunging inside you to curl at the spongy spot inside your velvety walls.

“ fuck me- ” you cried, head falling back against the pillow as your back arched into his chest. you clenched around him, the stretch being just enough to force your eyes shut with pleasure. you couldn’t contain the moans that fell from your pretty lips as he thrusts his fingers uncoordinatedly inside you, tongue swirling around your nipple.

miles pushed another finger inside you, lips departing from your nipple to watch your eyes screw shut. fuck his hands were so large- you held familiar heat flood your stomach, not giving you a heads up as you made a mess of his hand.

“ fuck- d- daddy ‘m sorry! ” you tried to reason, feeling his fingers leave you immediately.

“ ‘nd you were doing so good pumpkin. so good. ” he tasked, his left hands holding your wrists releasing you before manhandling you onto your stomach. you couldn’t see what he was doing, but you when you heard the clink of his belt and weight shifting behind you. you turned your head to the side, desperate to catch a glimpse of the pretty appendage he donned.

“ ah fuck- m- daddy! ” you cried as the thick head of his cock breached your entrance, miles’ hips working in inch by thick inch. a growl left him as he watched your lips spread around his cock, eyes narrowing at he white ring you left as he pulled his hips back, the head teasing departure. you wanted to whine, to wiggle - to disobey, but a large hand pushed your shoulders, relishing in the feel of the lace beneath his fingers as he pushed you deeper into the sheets. he sunk inside you fully, your belly bulging with nothing but him.

“ christ fuck yer drippin’. ” your eyes rolled back in your head as a choked moan left our lips, bruised from your feeble attempts to muffle your cries. he set a brutal pace, not giving you a second longer to adjust to his size, not like you wanted to. you fisted at the sheets beneath you, desperate to hold onto something as you tried to form coherent sentences, thoughts.

he knew your brain was fried, your pussy told him so. the way you were sucking him in told it all. so he gave you what you wanted, unhindered, unrestrained, his hips snapped with rough thrusts. you wailed, taping against the bed uncoordinatedly.

“ y’gonna cum princess? ” you nodded - tried to. “ use yer words. ” he slowed his hips only a fraction to allow you room to think, to ask for permission just the way he liked it.

“ close- da- fuck! daddy please! can i? ” you pleaded with him, you weren’t near coherent, he wouldn’t be fucking you right if you were. his other hand gripped your hip, imprinting his hand into your skin.

“ hold it. ” he growled, pulling your hips down to meet his with unwavering force, hips stuttering as he felt his balls grow tight.

“ fuck- now princess. c’mon give it t’me. ” he snarled as your body responded immediately, shaking with white hot pleasure as you reached your peak, pulling your dreamwalker boyfriend down with you. a string of curses left his lips as he emptied himself inside you, his stomach tensing with the force of his orgasm.

“ christ. look at the mess y’made. ” he panted, pulling out slowly as he watched his seed slip out of your abused hole. you shivered as you were filled with emptiness, knees sliding out from under you as your hips flattened against the bed. you didn’t notice miles leave the bed, the memories replaying in your mind as your ass throbbed. he kneeled beside you, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered.

“ now y’can take tha stockings off. ”

tags -> @luvv4j4ybe11

[sgtgrunt0331-3]

U.S. Marines, supplemented by a tank, take cover behind a tree near the southern bridgehead on the Perfume River, in city of Hue on February 4, 1968.

The Marines had been fighting well-armed North Vietnamese troops for five straight days as NVA forces continued to have a strangle hold on a major portion of the city.

(Photo courtesy of AP)

[whxre-bxby]

I wish people would write more soft romantic fics like you do, you write it really well!

Thank you bbygrl lemme give u a kiss <3 here's round two

"Hopelessly Devoted To You"

Masterlist

Summary: The RDA has a capacity issue and the recom's have been kicked out of their accommodations. When Quaritch says you're sharing a room with Lyle, it seems to bother him. You don't understand why so you confront him and eventually one thing leads to another and he's confessing his love to you.

WARNINGS: SMUT, fluff, little bit of angst, fingering, oral f. receiving, dirty talk, bad language, penetration, bonding (tsaheylu), arguing

Word Count: 6137

"Hopelessly Devoted To You" (From Grease) - Olivia Newton-John

The RDA was recently having a little space crisis. A new spaceship of workers arrived on Pandora this morning and they were struggling to find accommodation for them. 

They were behind in building plans of expanding Bridgehead City and were now facing the consequences. 

While the recom team was one of the most important muscles of this entire place, the RDA still prioritised their human workers and we found out the hard way. 

After a long day of training and exploring the jungle, we came back to find our bags packed and in the hallway outside our rooms. As you can imagine, Quaritch wasn't having it one bit and he let all his rage out by yelling at Ardmore. 

She got so pissed she threatened to have us all start sleeping outside because we need twice as much space and different air. 

That shut Quaritch up because he wasn't going to have his best team sleep outside on Pandora. 

Luckily Ardmore didn't let her conflict with the Colonel influence her decision of where we sleep too much. She let us take rooms which were located further away from the centre of Bridgehead and we were on our way there right now. 

The recom team walked through hallways, jet runways and large storage facilities to reach the specialised rooms. Quaritch was leading the way while we all followed. I walked with slumped shoulders, dragging my bag behind me. Z dog yawned and it made me drop my head and yawn too. 

I noticed how others would always take precautions when we passed. Sure we were 3 times their normal size but it was a little silly. Then again I enjoyed walking past them, knowing everyone except people like Ardmore are intimidated by us. Maybe she is too. 

Finally, the exhausted team arrived at the Na'vi-designed rooms, filled with Pandora's air. 

We stopped and the Colonel turned around and sighed, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. 

I leaned against a wall, dropping my bag by my feet and closing my eyes for a few seconds. 

"Alright squad, listen up." The Colonel spoke and I opened my eyes, trying to give him all the attention I had left. 

"I hate to do this to you, especially after such a rough day..." 

I hold my breath, eyes opening a little more just to make sure I'm hearing him properly. Oh god, bad news. Did some of us have to sleep outside? I would rather take the hallway. 

"But since we are dealin' with a space problem-" he sighs, taking a deep breath to break the news to us. 

"...some of you are sharin' rooms." 

My eyes widen, but I am a little relieved that we are not sleeping outside or that our rooms don't have a roof or a mattress. 

"Because my day has been as bad as yours I picked the names at random. Alright startin' with..." Quaritch spoke, naming soldier after soldier and whether they shared a room or whether they were alone and also which room they had. 

Everyone's name had been called up except Lyle and me. While others were already walking off and high-fiving, Lyle and I waited with perked ears. 

And yes we both noticed the way the Colonel avoided eye contact with us. It made me dread to hear the words he was about to say. 

He sighed, pinning his ears back and re-reading his list again. 

"Wainfleet. Y/N. You're sharin' a room." He said, glancing at us for a split second before grabbing his own bag. Of course, he had his own room

I just blankly stare at him for a few seconds. But it’s not such a big deal to me. I didn’t really mind.

Lyle however didn’t seem happy and I wasn’t sure whether I should make fun of his silly behaviour or whether I should be offended. 

Lyle was looking at the Colonel as if head lost his mind. 

“Sir- sir! You can’t be serious.” he said, calling after Quaritch who was retreating to his own room. 

“Very serious Corporal.” Quaritch said, getting his keys without even looking at Lyle. I’m just standing there and watching. I had the keys in my hand but I wanted to see what Lyle was doing. 

“But-” 

“We’re on a deadly planet here Wainfleet. If your biggest concern is sharin‘ a room with one of your most trusted soldiers, I’m gon’ start thinkin’ you ain’t suitable for this mission.” Quaritch warned, turning to Lyle and glaring at him. 

That did it, that shut him up. 

Quaritch stared him down for a few seconds before giving me an apologetic nod and going into his room, leaving Lyle standing outside in silence. 

I shrug it off, walking down the hall to find our room number. It’s not that far down and I reach it quickly, taking the small keys I was given and unlocking it. I can feel Lyle watching me but I don’t want to say anything to him. 

Was I so bad to share a room with? Does he secretly hate me that much?

I heard him pick up his own bag and follow me while I had unlocked the room, flicking the light switch on. 

It really wasn’t a nice room but I didn’t complain, walking inside. 

Lyle arrived at the door. 

“Wow, what a shithole.” he mumbled, looking around before closing the door behind him. I don’t answer. 

I enter what is meant to be the bedroom and freeze. This was going to be complicated. 

Lyle walked up behind me and was met with the same sight. 

“No fuckin’ way.” he groaned out in frustration while both of us looked at the double bed. 

“I could kill the Colonel right now.” he muttered, seeming very agitated. Lyle was starting to already get on my nerves. 

“I don’t think so.” I mumble, walking to one side of the bed and putting my bag next to it. 

He picked up my words and noticed the tone I used. 

“What’s up with you? You on your period or somethin’?” he asked and I rolled my eyes. No fucking way did he just ask me that. 

“No, you moron.” I answer a little louder this time while unzipping my bag. Lyle stays standing where he is. 

“What then?” he asked, completely oblivious to how he’s been complaining. 

“Is it such a big deal to share a room?” I ask, putting my hands on my waist while my ears are tipped back, clearly showing my annoyance. His own ears flatten when he realises I’m mad at him. 

“Am I that bad?” I ask, looking at him before returning to unpack my clothes. 

Lyle looks dumbstruck for whatever reason. 

“No, no of course not it’s not that.” he says, trying to save himself but I’m already pissed. 

“What is it then?” I snap back and he seems taken aback by my words.

“Oh right, you’re not mature enough to share a fucking room.” I add with a scoff and now he looks mad too. But he doesn’t say anything. 

“Don’t talk to your superior like that.” he says after a minute and I almost laugh. 

“Yeah right, superior my ass you’re not suitable to be a Corporal if you can’t grow the fuck up.” 

I did feel like I was crossing the line with my words a little but I couldn’t seem to stop. My bag is thrown from the bed by me and I grab my toiletries and towel to go shower. I can’t even look at him he’s gotten me so mad. 

Lyle stares me down when I walk past him and into the shower, quickly closing and locking the door behind me. 

Not even five minutes in and I needed a break. 

….

I sigh, taking in a deep breath before putting my hand on the door handle of the bathroom. 

Lyle and I had an odd relationship and it seemed to always change. Sometimes we avoided each other. Other times it felt like we were the best of friends. Once, I thought I felt a connection with him and genuinely thought he might end up being my boyfriend. That’s how much has happened between us. We never did anything. The highest point of things we’ve done together was hugs and flirting. I fell asleep on him once too, but that was it. 

During the flirting phase, he once looked at me like I was all that mattered to him. A look you would see in movies with eyes twinkling and all that. I thought I was in love with him but the next day, he went back to barely acknowledging me and we started from the beginning of the cycle again. 

A week ago, we were at the close friends stage once again and I was happy around him. When Quaritch announced the rooms I thought Lyle and I would high-five each other too but seems like he had other plans. 

My heart is racing as I try to collect myself before stepping outside. I open the door and walk out in my so-called pyjamas. It was a pair of shorts and a loose old shirt which… actually used to belong to Lyle. 

He’s laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling but his head tilts over to me when I exit the steamy bathroom. 

“Took ya long enough.” he said and his tone was no longer annoyed. But damn did his sentence still annoy me. 

“Miss me that bad?” I ask, surprising myself with the words that slipped from my mouth. I wanted to actually throw an insult at him but this worked too I guess. 

He seems to be amused by what I said and rolls to his side to look at me, who has walked to my side of the bed again. 

“Maybe… Buttercup.” he replies and I can tell he was thinking about whether he should risk calling me that or not. 

I glare at him, flattening my ears back again before I return my attention to packing away the shit I took out before. 

“Oh come on, you used to like me callin’ you that.” he said and I took a deep breath to control myself and not snap at him. He was so confusing it frustrated me. Suddenly, he hates me and now it’s as if he’s forgotten how he was complaining before. 

“Yeah, back when you weren’t a dick.” I say. Oops, maybe the self-control faltered for a split second.

Lyle’s ears perked up. He was surprised by my mouth again. 

“When did I become one?” he asks with a small chuckle. Great, now he thinks it’s funny. 

“Maybe when you decided that I was such a bitch you can’t share a room with.” I say, turning my head over my shoulder but not looking at him. 

“Or when you don’t talk to me the day after we were finally having fun together again.” 

Lyle stays quiet while I just angrily refold my clothes. I hear the bed creek and Lyle get up and somehow I secretly hope he is walking to me to give me a hug. If he would I would probably break down. 

But no, I hear him gather his things and he leaves the room, closing the bathroom door behind him with a thud. 

“Sure, just walk away. Not like I matter to you.” I mumbled under my breath. I was feeling all sorts of emotions and to be completely honest, if I were completely alone right now I would just cry myself to sleep. 

Mainly because I was angry and when I get angry my eyes tear up. I was sad because he didn’t treat me like the friend I was to him but I was also sad because… I don’t think I want to just be his friend anymore. I was attracted to Lyle and I hated myself for it. 

Every time we got close and he pushed me away again, I swore to myself that that would be the last time it happens. But each time he comes back and is all friendly and kind again, I can’t help but accept him. 

I sit on the bed with my legs and arms crossed while in deep thought, listening to the running shower water coming from the bathroom.

The door opens minutes later and Lyle steps out. I snap out of my thoughts and glance at him. 

He’s just wearing the loose shorts that he sleeps in. His torso is bare and speckled in water droplets. 

I rip my gaze from him, not wanting him to see but Lyle smirked to himself because he noticed my lingering eyes. 

I stared down at my feet as Lyle sat on the bed next to me. 

He too was thinking and then his ears perked forward as he thought of an idea. Teasing you or doing things to get you to laugh were good ways of getting your attention and having you talk to him. 

He wasn’t good at starting conversations so he needed you to talk, even if it was scolding him. He was able to mostly turn the conversation in a positive direction but it had to start. 

He picked up his dirty sock and tossed it to you.

I saw the sock fly towards me and it landed on my legs. Immediately I sat up, grimacing a little. It wasn’t disgusting because the sock was only a day old and it didn’t look dirty but I wanted him to know I didn’t think it was funny. 

“Ew Lyle, why would you do that?” I complain, scrambling to my feet. 

“Do what?” he asked, trying to suppress a laugh. 

I snatch the sock from the bed, grabbing for my bag to get my own dirty clothes and throw the whole pile on him but I only now notice it's gone. 

“Wha- where’s my-” I start before my head shoots to Lyle who is avoiding eye contact. He didn’t expect such a reaction and he was a little scared of what you would do now. 

“Lyle I swear to god-” I start almost shouting while I stomp over to his side of the bed. I can see my bag hidden next to his nightstand and I want to go and grab it back. I throw the sock back on him but suddenly he is scrambling up to his feet and he’s in my way. 

“Wait Y/N-” he says and his hands reach for me but I dodge them as if they were sharp and take steps back. The last thing I needed was him holding or touching me. I would as I said break down. His arms found mine but I wriggled it out of his grasp with fast movements.

Quickly I start walking away and retreating back to my side but Lyle is quicker and when I reach the foot of the bed his arms encircle my body, preventing me from taking a step further. 

They tighten and wrap around my middle, pulling me against him. I freeze in my movements and all the muscles in my body tense. 

I can’t give in. It’s happened too many times. 

He’s holding me against him while I keep my eyes clenched closed. 

“Y/N I’m sorry…” he softly says, his breath fanning against the skin near my ear. 

I shakily exhale after hearing his words, turning my head away from him. He can see how much I’m fighting him. 

“I know I’ve been an idiot.” he says and I fight the urge to aggressively nod. Instead, my ears once again strain all the way back and my tail stops moving. 

“Please talk to me.” he almost whispered and I picked up a hint of sadness in his voice. 

His arms loosened around my waist and fell to his sides. I turned around and took a step back to create at least a little bit of distance between us. 

Lyle watches me, finally letting us lock eyes. His gaze softens when he notices how glossy mine have become. 

“Why do you do it?” I ask, internally cursing myself when my voice becomes shaky. 

He knows exactly what I mean because he looks away in shame. I’m helplessly staring at him, needing to hear some kind of answer. 

Lyle sighs before speaking. “I was trying to keep things professional…” he says and his voice is now gravelly. 

“Professional? By constantly pushing me away?” I ask, trying to make sense of it all. Then again I was glad he was such a forward and bold person. He wouldn’t usually dance around things, he says what’s on his mind.

His sad eyes meet mine and his look answers my question with a yes. 

“You heard the Colonel. You’re one of our best soldiers. I don’t wanna screw it up for either of us.” he says. I don’t know how to answer that. 

“You’re one of my… best soldiers.” Lyle adds. This cheesy asshole. Somehow it‘s working.

“How would our friendship ever screw it up?” I ask, thinking he’s talking about us being friends. 

He gazes deep into my eyes as if he were searching for something to tell him I didn’t mean what I just said. 

“It wouldn’t be the friendship doin’ that.” he faintly replies. There it is again. That look. He’s doing it right now, looking at me with big eyes as if I were everything in the world. It’s making my heart warm up and my knees weak. 

“Lyle, what are you talking about?” I ask, wondering whether he means what I’m thinking. 

He straightens his posture a little, looking up at the ceiling for a second to steady himself in reality before taking a deep breath and locking eyes with me again. He seems to zone out a little while staring at me.

“I’m so in love with you…” he whispers. His ears droop and his body slumps a little in defeat. As if he too has been trying to fight the feeling and deny it but now it’s won and he told you. 

I just stare back at him and my lips part in an attempt to say something but no words come out. His words shock me but I can tell by the way he is looking at me that he means them. 

“I’ve been trying to hide it but every time I do that I can see it hurts you,” he continues talking, confessing all his feelings to me and somehow I am grateful for that because I am currently speechless. 

“And I don’t want to be doin’ that anymore. I want this,” he says, pointing between him and me “to be more than just friends.”

“I’m sorry…” he adds when my silence becomes unbearable for him. “I just needed you to know.” 

His gaze flickers between me and the ground. Lyle is clearly nervous and his anxiety is eating him from the inside out right now while he awaits my response.

He’s expecting a clear rejection because he thinks you only want to be friendly with him.

“You moron.” I say in disbelief with a scoff. Lyle flinches a little at my words, now fully staring at the ground.

All the worrying and crying I’ve gone through, all because he was suppressing his feelings for me. 

“I thought you hated me.” I say and a look of confusion floods his sad face. 

He looks up at me with a glimpse of hope and when I reach for his dog tag and pull him down a little, his eyes widen and his ears perk up. 

I pull him to me, eliminating the space between us and pressing our lips together. 

For a few seconds, Lyle doesn’t move. It hasn’t fully loaded in his head yet that I’m kissing him. 

Once he replays what just happened, he deepens the kiss and his arms are once again around me, pressing me right up against him. 

We pull away and just stare at each other. A huge smile finally brightens Lyle’s face and he’s laughing. It makes me smile too. 

“No fucking way.” he says, looking at me in disbelief. “You’re into me?” he asks, suppressing another laugh. He needs one last confirmation before he can feel relieved from the stress. 

“I know, it’s bad.” I say with a grin, teasing him. 

“Come on, just say it properly so I know.” Lyle pleads. 

I take a deep breath. “Corporal Lyle Wainfleet, my attraction to you has been the cause of my lack of sleep this month and the month before. Maybe even the month before that.” 

I’m smiling like an idiot at him now too. “Yes, I love you dumb ass.” 

“Fuck princess, you don’t know how happy you make me.” he replies, his huge smile spreading across his entire face before he pulls me into him once again for a kiss. This time I wrap my hands around his neck and his arms start running all over my body. He’s gripping my waist, squeezing my hips and finally allowing one of his hands to test the waters and rest on my ass. 

I break the kiss by laughing and it makes him chuckle. 

“What?” he asks, wondering what’s so funny. 

“I really thought you didn’t like me and here you are so desperate for me.” I joke and he sheepishly grins. 

“I couldn’t get you outta my head since the day we woke up like this.” he said, referring to our resurrection on Pandora. 

I smile, looking down for a brief moment when I feel my cheeks start to heat up. 

“Shut up, that’s so cheesy.” I say with a breathy laugh, poking him in the chest. It seems to just spur him on. 

Lyle’s mission is now to get you as flustered as possible.

“I’ve dreamed about you too, no kidding.” he said and I shake my head, pretending like I don’t want to hear it. 

“They weren’t always workplace-appropriate dreams either.” he says, leaning down and smirking at me.

“Oh my god.” I say, clutching my reddened face in my palms.

“Don’t hide yet I’m not done.” he chuckles, gently pulling my hands from my face. 

“Sometimes, when I’m in the shower…” he starts talking and I know this is going in a very bad direction. “... or when I’m alone in my room at night…” Oh god, help me please. “I touch-” 

“Okay! Okay!” I say, my face completely flushed. 

“What’s wrong, you embarrassed?” he coos, teasing me. 

“Never.” I say, accepting the challenge. I was never bold with my words so I was going to unleash the dirtiest hell on him and shock him.

“Sometimes…” I say, grinning and tiptoeing my fingers up his bare chest. His grin slowly retreats and he watches me. 

“When I finger myself…” I say, sounding as seductive as possible. Boom, just like that all teasing and smiling was flushed away and gone from Lyle. He was completely shocked by my words and could not believe I was saying that. 

“I push them in as deep as possible… and I imagine it’s you doing it.” I whisper and watch as Lyle gets literal goosebumps. His mouth also happens to be hanging open a little. 

“And I think of how you would feel like inside me.” I say, slyly smiling up at the dumbstruck blue marine. 

He can’t believe it. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy.” Lyle curses, adjusting his shorts and my smile turns into a grin. “Don’t stop.” he says and it sounds very desperate. 

“When I cum, I moan your name.” I add and he groans at my words, not taking his eyes off me for even a second. I can’t remember the last time I saw him blink. He isn’t blushing either because Lyle just rarely gets embarrassed but my words definitely affect him more. 

“But I’ve been so stressed lately, I haven’t been able to help myself anymore.” I say, faking a sad and helpless voice which seems to really do it for him. 

“Since I sometimes think of you… I think I need some help.” I say, tracing my fingertip down his chest muscle. 

“Only sometimes?” he asks in a joking manner, playfully raising an eyebrow. 

I grin, knowing just how to get under his skin. “Mhm. Sometimes it’s someone else.” 

His grin drops. “Take that back.” he says and I’m biting my lip to hold back laughter. 

“Make me.” I say, knowing that will trigger the right things in Lyle. 

It does.

“Oh I will.” he says, tugging me by my arm and pushing me back onto the bed. I fall back, bouncing down on the mattress before looking up at him. He’s towering over me and I scoot backwards, trying to create a distance between us again but this time he won’t let it happen. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good your legs will stop workin’.” Lyle says and I gasp when he tugs me back. 

My stomach twists in excitement and anticipation of what he has planned. 

He glides his hands up and along my legs, fumbling with the hem of my shirt and grinning. 

“You look good in my clothes.” he says and I smile. 

“I always wear this when I think of you.” I say, trying to make him hornier. 

“Oh you’re in for it now.” he says, with dilated pupils and a grin. 

“Can I?” he asks for permission to remove my clothes. 

“Yes, sir.” I say, making him smile. He pulls my shorts down my legs, leaving my bottom half bare in front of his predatory eyes. 

“Fuckin’ hell… you don’t know how much I’ve dreamed of this.” he says, not taking his eyes off my pussy. 

My cheeks heat and I try to close my legs to shield myself from his prying stare but he won’t let it happen. His hands push my legs open again and hold on beneath my thighs. 

Lyle is kneeling by the edge of the bed, leaning against the mattress as he pulls me closer to him. One of my legs rests on his shoulder and he gives it a kiss, before slowly kissing down my inner thigh. 

When he nears my crotch he inhales and the next time he opens his eyes, I can almost only see his dark pupils. 

He can’t wait or waste a second more. It looks so inviting to him and your scent has become irresistible. 

Lyle leans his head down and sticks his tongue out. He flattens it out and licks a long stripe from my hole to my clit. I gasp, balling my hands into fists. 

Such a small action had me already feeling this good. 

“Oh fuck-” I breathily whimper and Lyle wishes he could savour those noises forever. 

He needs to hear more and he can’t fight the urge to taste you anymore. 

Lyle buries his face into my cunt, tightening his grip around my thighs so that I can’t escape. 

I squeak in surprise while my mouth falls open. He starts fully eating me out, licking and sucking on everything he can access. 

I arch my back off the bed, already feeling high off of him. 

“Lyle-” I mewl and he growls against my heat. I know I won’t last long because I’ve been longing for his touch for a long time already. 

His tongue is flicking over my clit and he lets go of my thigh with one hand, slowly pushing a finger into me. I gasp, clasping my hand over my mouth so that I don’t accidentally scream. 

Luckily the walls here were thick for once.

He pushes it in, thrusting it in and out for a while before adding a second finger. 

God, it feels so much better when he does it. 

The feeling of penetration mixed with the stimulation of my clit has me whining and whimpering incoherent words.

I try to suppress my pleasure a little, just so that I can last longer and extend this euphoric feeling. That plan goes to shit once Lyle starts purring. His chest is rumbling and The vibrations go through his tongue which is pressed against my most sensitive area. 

“Fuck- Lyle I’m gonna-” I say, unable to stop the approaching orgasm. He doesn’t stop, in fact he deepens his actions making me clench my thighs around his head. 

My orgasm hits me like a brick and then I’m falling apart while Lyle is fingering the life out of me. 

My chest is heaving and I manage to open my eyes again, remembering where I am. Lyle pulled away, resting his arms on my trembling legs and giving me a shit-eating grin. He licked his lips while keeping his eyes firmly locked with me and I sighed. 

“Was that how you imagined it?” he asks, teasing me. I scoff. 

“Better. So much better.” 

He grins. “Good, we’re not done yet.” he says, climbing onto the bed and over me. He helps me scoot up so that my head is laying on the pillow while hovering above me. 

“God you look so good.” I mumble, feeling up his bare chest. My common sense was gone. I was still recovering from my intense orgasm so I could only confess every thought that came to mind while looking at Lyle with half-lidded eyes. 

“Look at you, buttercup. Fuckin’ goddess. I don’t even know how I managed to pull you.” he says with a smile, slowly inching my shirt up. I know he took my compliment to heart though. He would prefer me saying he looked hot or that his body was toned rather than being told his eyes are beautiful. He wasn’t the poetic romantic type. 

I lift myself off the bed a little and he pulls my and his shirt over my head, throwing it down next to the bed. 

When his eyes meet my bare chest he becomes weak. 

“I’m fallin’ asleep on those.” he said as if he were reserving my breasts, unable to tear his eyes from them.

I chuckle. “I didn’t know you were a ‘titty’ man.” 

He grins, kissing my cheek. “I’m a ‘you’ man.”

I giggle before he starts peppering kisses from my collarbone and onto my chest. He sticks his tongue out and flicks it over a nipple. 

I wouldn’t have expected it to feel good but it oddly did and it made me arch my back off the mattress and into him. Lyle’s other hand came up and groped my other breast before massaging it. 

My heavy breaths have Lyle struggling to control himself. 

The straining of his shorts is becoming painful, so he rids himself of the remaining clothes he has on. 

“Holy fuck.” I say, shamelessly just staring at his erection. I knew it would be bigger but this was massive. Compared to me as well. I would probably struggle to take him. 

He grins and moves back over me. This time, his braid falls over his shoulder and onto my chest with a small thud. 

It reminds me of something and the same idea seems to be in his head. 

We exchange looks and he smiles. “Do you wanna try it?” he asks. 

I reach for my own one, examining it for a few seconds.

“Sure, I just don’t quite know how it works…” I say. 

“Me neither.” he chuckles. We mess around with them a little until I open the end of my braid and watch the small nerves move around. Lyle watches mine before mirroring what I did. Once he revealed his own cord we just followed our natural instincts and held them together. Before they even touched, the little tentacles were reaching for eachother. Now they are entangled and become one. 

I saw white light for a good few long seconds and my senses seemed to strengthen and expand. I managed to feel a part of Lyle and I could tell he felt the same with me. 

Without further ado, we followed what nature told us to do. We couldn’t wait any longer. Both of us have needed this for so long, the release was so close, we couldn’t lose another second. 

Lyle parted my legs again, pressing his hips in between them. I held onto his shoulder with one hand while resting one leg on his lower back.

He lined himself up with me, pressing the tip of his leaking cock against my dripping heat. I clenched my jaw in anticipation and then Lyle finally pushed his hips forward, fully entering me. I was so lubricated that he slid in with ease, stopping once he bottomed out just to relish in the feeling. 

I drop my head back, finally feeling like my needs were being fulfilled. 

“God damn, buttercup you’re so tight ‘round me.” he groaned, closing his eyes for a few seconds. 

“Please move.” I whine, desperately needing to feel more of him.

I don’t need to tell Lyle twice. He’s pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in with long and precise strides. Each time he jolts forward a new wave of pleasure shoots through me. He leans down, wanting to be close to me. 

Our lips crash together and we heavily make out while Lyle continues to fuck himself into me. After a few minutes, we are breathing so heavily that we have to break the kiss. We just rest our foreheads against each other, our hot breath fanning against the other's face. 

“So good.” I whimper, closing my eyes while Lyle rubs his cheek against mine. 

He’s speeded up a little, starting to rut his hips against mine, trying to force himself further into me with each thrust. 

Lyle hits a spot inside me that makes my body jolt in ecstasy and since we are bonded, he feels it too. Quickly, he rearranges his hips and starts to relentlessly pound into me while groaning and hissing. 

This feels so much better than I could have ever imagined. 

Lyle’s thrusts are becoming a little sloppy but I don’t blame him because I’m close to another orgasm again. 

“Lyle, too much… I can’t-” I whimper, still sensitive from the previous one. 

“Come on baby, one more f’ere me.” he grunts, encouraging me. I can’t answer because my mouth is falling open. 

He feels how I’m slowly starting to clench even more around him. “That’s it Buttercup, let go.” he whispers, kissing my neck. I nod, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him in. 

Lyle growls, speeding up a little more just before he pushes me over the edge and I swear I can see stars. My pussy’s walls clench down around him and Lyle only manages to thrust into me a few more times before spilling his load deep into me. 

He moans, clenching his eyes closed and biting down on my shoulder. His fangs sink just beneath my skin but I’m so overwhelmed by my orgasm it doesn’t even hurt. 

After a few moments, my legs loosen and fall off of him. Lyle stops desperately grinding into me and he drops his head into the crook of my neck. I wrap my arm around him and he gently lays himself down on me. 

Our heavy breaths mix and after a few minutes he scoots down a little lower so that his head is in fact lying on my breasts. Lyle gently pulls out of me in the process and I chuckle at his behaviour while he shoots me a cheeky smile. 

“You’re mine now.” he whispers, wrapping his arms around me. I smile, tracing the stripes on his head. Our braids disconnected but I felt more connected to Lyle than I ever have before. 

“No one else gets to have you.” He said, tracing his hands down my hips before returning to just holding me again.

“I don’t have a problem with that.” I smile and he chuckles. 

“Say it again. How you feel about me.” he says, looking up. I’m not quite sure what he means. 

“I need to hear it once more before I fall asleep.” he says. Oh, of course. 

“I love you, Lyle.” I whispered, cradling his cheek. He looks relieved as if he were still somehow worried I would have changed my mind. 

“I love you more. And I’ll take care of you.” he said with a grin. I smile in return before my eyelids become heavy. 

The Na’vi body seemed to be able to fall asleep much easier. 

Lyle did in fact sleep on my chest for most of the night. However, he made sure and waited that I fell asleep first before he closed his eyes. 

He felt protective of me now and even though there was no current danger, he was passionate about caring for me.

I wonder how things will be between us after this. We still work together, meaning we might have to keep this relationship secret.

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @number1gal

[nesaluvstherecoms]

𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Extreme mental strain, mentions of male masturbation.

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐒𝐒𝐃𝐃

The sound of light solid taps is the only thing that can be heard through the dark office. Y/N’s breathing is soft, steady, calm, as it accompanies the sounds of the electronic pen writing on the screen of her touchpad. The lights of her spacious office are off, letting only the dim light from outside penetrate through the large glass-panel windows behind her and illuminate her surroundings. It’s almost eclipse.

Y/N’s sharp eyes follow the tip of her pen as she writes, summarizing her team’s new report for General Ardmore. The tip of her tail sways softly at her side, draped over the right arm of her expensive, cushioned desk chair. It’s the end of the week and she has been in her office all day, reviewing reports. It has been a good week overall. Her team have been able to eliminate multiple Na’vi groups and take over their territories, allowing the troops to start treating the land to set new grounds for the RDA. Captain Keller, Lieutenant Álvarez and Lieutenant Jones have led multiple units to success, almost flawlessly even in this new environment, Sergeant Davis has adapted his ability to plan attacks in said environment perfectly, and the rest of her team have been outstanding as well. Ardmore is happy, the contractors are happy, and most importantly, her team seems to be happy. She should be proud of them, she really should, and she is. But since day one, she can’t help but feel a weird weight in the bottom of her gut. She tells herself it’s just because she isn’t used to this, and she agrees. It will take some time to adapt, but she’ll get there.

With a final tap, she finishes the report and quickly puts her elegant signature at the bottom. Putting the electronic pen aside, she lets its magnetic side stick to the right side of her touchpad. Y/N pushes her desk chair slightly back and reaches upwards, stretching her elegant body and cracking her spine and tail. With a sigh of relief, she turns her chair around and leans back, resting her body comfortably on the thick cushioned lining. Her eyes immediately fall on the landscape outside, well not much of a landscape but it’s still better than looking at reports for hours. The dull colors outside don’t do much for the eye but Y/N doesn’t mind. Her eyes move to the sky, watching aimlessly as her mind continues its train of thought again. One report however, had not been to her liking. Three high-value prisoners free, a high-value target on the run and five Recombinants dead.

Y/N clenches her jaw. It’s been only two months and already five Recoms have been KIAd. A shiver runs down her spine. Recoms. Just like her. Just like her squad. How? How could this have happened? She watches as the eclipse happens in the sky, blocking the rest of the light rays, plunging the world outside into darkness. Bridgehead turns on its night lights, illuminating the city as some vehicles stop moving, the workers wrapping up their workdays as others come out to start their night shifts.

A knock on her office door brings her out of her thoughts. She turns around to press a button from the control panel on her desk and the door slides open. The comforting figure of her Captain steps into her office, stopping a few steps away from her desk and saluting her.

“General.” John acknowledges softly but firmly. Y/N nods, smiling softly.

“John.” She greets. “At ease.”

Captain Keller lowers his arm, giving her a friendly smile as he shuffles once on his feet.

“I apologize if I am disturbing ma’am, but General Ardmore requests your presence in the Neurolab.”

Y/N raises her brows. The Neurolab? That’s a bit of an odd location for Ardmore to be in.

“I see. Is there a problem?” She asks, as she stands up from her desk. John looks at her, as she makes her way around her desk to stand in front of him, looking up at him from her side. He purses his lips slightly before responding in his deep and raspy tone.

“Turns out Colonel Quaritch did not lose all of his captives after all.”

Y/N has gotten used to the eyes following her everywhere she walks by now. Her high rank, her demeanor and her intimidating size attract attention everywhere she goes. But this kind of attention has been following her her whole life, even before waking up as a Recom, with people staring at her; some in admiration, some in judgement, some in curiosity and some in just lust. By now, it doesn’t bother her, and if it wasn’t for the way she has been conditioned to pay attention to everything around her, she wouldn’t even notice. So now, as she walks through the corridors of the Ops center, with John following behind her and towering over the humans walking around, she ignores the multiple pairs of eyes that follow their moving figures. They turn a corner to a corridor with less people and Y/N turns her head towards her team Captain.

“So, about this prisoner. Tell me more.” She says as they keep on walking together towards the designated place. John takes a sip of carbon dioxide, letting his lungs fill up nicely, before responding to his General.

“It’s a human boy. Raised mostly in the wild by the resistance and the natives. Deceased Colonel Quaritch’s son.” He replies, watching as Y/N raises a brow disapprovingly.

“Son? He had a child?” She asks, her cropped ears folding back slightly. John nods.

“Yes ma’am. He got one of his scorpion pilots pregnant when he was still alive, resulting in the boy. The mother died in the war and the kid was left with the resistance.” He informs her. Y/N scoffs in amusement, shaking her head, and her tail swings a couple of times behind her.

“So not only did he give leverage to the traitor for months, but he was fraternizing with his own pilots too? Talk about populating Pandora.” She comments and John chuckles, shaking his head. Y/N brings the mask of her Recom Breather up to her face and takes a filling sip of carbon dioxide, before lowering it and talking to John again.

“How come the boy was not sent back to Earth, like everyone else?”

John takes a sip from his mask as well before speaking.

“He was too young. Babies cannot be put in cryo sleep.”

Y/N hums, turning her line of vision away for a moment before looking back at him.

“And he is important to us how exactly?”

“He’s been with Sully’s family for years, grown up with the kids. He knows every single Na’vi operation, the location of their main base, everything. If the science department manage to force this information out of him then we have hit the jackpot.” John replies. Y/N nods slowly, grabbing her mask again and moving it up to her face. New thoughts start roaming her mind, processing the new information.

“I see.”

。。。

Miles’ head is in multiple places at once. Firstly, his team’s encounter in the forest still has him and his troopers shaken. Five of their own are dead, gone in a matter of seconds. He believes his team will get over their deaths soon, they are soldiers after all, they have lost people before. But what bothers him the most is the human boy he never thought he would see again. Young Miles. Quaritch’s steps are firm as he walks through the corridors of the Ops center, with Wainfleet following close behind. Miles’ tail moves slowly behind him, as him and his Lieutenant move towards the Neurolab, both Recoms silent. Lyle’s eyes remain on the back of Miles’ head, trying to figure out the current mood of his Colonel. After all, they have just found his predecessor’s son. That must be shocking even to Miles himself. But up until now, the Colonel has shown no emotions towards the situation. As soon as they returned to base, he handed the boy in Ardmore’s troops’ hands like he was as valuable as any other prisoner. But a few moments ago, as soon as he had heard that the boy would be strapped to the DPF’s NeuroSect E7.2T scanner, he was immediately on his feet and out the door, with Lyle following behind. So Wainfleet cannot make out exactly what the Colonel is feeling. He tries to read his body language, watching his tail and his ears but they do not show any sign of his emotions either. With his eyes still on his Colonel, Lyle brings the Recom Breather mask up to his face and takes a sip of carbon dioxide. Well, he’s about to figure out what Miles is thinking, as they are now heading straight for the Neurolab down the corridor.

。。。

As Y/N and John turn the corner to finally be in front of the Neurolab, he is suddenly pulled back and pressed against the wall, put out of sight from the entrance. His first instinct is to fight and then react but the one who has pulled him back is Y/N.

“General?” He questions as Y/N presses herself against the wall as well. She shushes him, her eyes carefully inspecting the front of the Neurolab. John follows her line of vision and a few moments later, two pairs of heavy combat boots echo through the corridor. What he can only assume is Colonel Quaritch and his Lieutenant, as far as John remembers from the holograms shown to him and Y/N in the Holofloor the first day they arrived, pass through and wait for the door of the Neurolab to open. The metal doors slide open and Wainfleet is the first to move a step inside, but Quaritch doesn’t move. Instead his head is raised slightly up and he’s looking around, his tail now swinging faster behind him. His brows furrow in concentration as he seems to be searching around for something. Wainfleet, who has now stepped a foot in the lab, turns to his commander with a raised eyebrow.

“Colonel?”

Quaritch looks around for a bit more, amber eyes searching for whatever has suddenly caught his attention, but when he doesn’t find it, he shakes his head with a displeased expression on his face and heads inside the Neurolab. The doors slide closed after him and Wainfleet walk in, and Y/N removes herself from the wall. John turns his head towards her, giving her a questioning look.

“What was that for?” He asks. Y/N doesn’t answer, instead she looks thoughtfully at a blank spot on the floor for a moment, before she raises her head again and turns to him.

“We best not make our presence known. I want to see how this unfolds.”

“Where is Jake Sully?”

“I don’t know!” Screams the boy in fear, his voice cracking from the strain he puts on his exhausted throat. The DPF’s NeuroSect E7.2T scanner where he is strapped on, spins in flashing green lights, with a whirring sound that fills the Neurolab.

“We know that you know.” Ardmore presses.

Quaritch watches intently, leaning with one arm on the glass panel of the Neurolab’s brain imaging booth.

“I don’t know!” The boy screams again.

“Just form a picture in your mind.” Ardmore says nonchalantly, lowering her head briefly to check the screen of the scanner. “Is it one of the floating mountains?”

“Let me out of here!” He replies back.

Inside the brain imaging booth, Wainfleet bends down to check the holo display of the boy’s brain, watching as different colors highlight the different brain states that he is going through, with the scanner feeding it visual memories in real time. The corporate man next to Quaritch turns around towards one of the scientists analyzing the hologram.

“Hey, he’s fighting this.” He states as Quaritch turns around as well, grabbing the mask of his Recom Breather and bringing it up to his face.

“Give us a minute.” The scientist replies, walking closer to the woman scientist analyzing the brain with him. Meanwhile, the boy continues to scream in the background.

“I don’t know!”

Ardmore purses her lips, slowly starting to get annoyed as she stares him down.

“Just form a thought.” She says while shaking her head, her voice starting to get laced in irritation. “And we will see it.”

“I don’t know!”

Quaritch slowly moves behind the holo display of the boy’s brain. His cropped ears raise up as he stares at it in curiosity. He shifts in place, brows slowly furrowing the more he looks at it.

“Look, I don’t like this any more than you do!” Ardmore says, finally raising her voice and showing her frustration. It’s been forty minutes, she has shit to do, but instead she’s stuck here interrogating this filthy kid who somehow isn’t budging. And where is L/N, she asked for her fifty minutes ago! The boy screams in pain as a sharp throb stabs down the center of his brain.

“Which clans would be harboring him?” Ardmore presses.

“I don’t know!” He screams yet again in pain, this time faster. “You’re gonna have to kill me!”

At that last sentence Miles’ eyes narrow down dangerously. His ears fold back and he glares at the hologram, before a displeased expression plasters on his face, his upper lip twitching upwards once. He bends down just like Wainfleet did, to get a closer look at the pulsing electric waves that run through the neurons of the hologram brain in a neon orange color. The boy’s screams continue in the background.

“Watch this, you’re peaking all over the prefrontal.” The male scientist who spoke earlier tells the female scientist as she scrambles with a datapad that analyzes the boy’s brain further.

“It’s not gonna stop until you give us something. Where is he?!” Ardmore continues, this time irritation showing fully through the tone of her voice. The boy screams more, his body now starting to shake against the scanner.

“I don’t know you assholes, okay?! I don’t know!” He screams harder, his voice cracking again through the sentence. Quaritch has had enough.

With fast, heavy steps he moves swiftly to the control panel outside of the brain imaging booth, pressing his palm down on the red shut off button. The whirring sound of the scanner slowls down and the spinning panels slow down with it until they stop moving completely and the sound that has been filling the Neurolab for almost fifty minutes stops, plunging the room in silence. Ardmore turns around, snapping her head back to get a look of the person who just shut off the scanner. Miles removes his massive hand from the control panel and straightens his posture, looking back at the General with the tip of his tail slightly raised while Wainfleet walks out of the booth and stands a few feet away from his Colonel. The boy pants heavily, eyes now half lidded and blood leaking out of his left nostril. With slow and soft strides, trying to approach the situation carefully, Quaritch gets closer to the General. His vision falls on the boy for a bit before he turns his back to him and moves his head closer to Ardmore. Maintaining reassuring eye contact with her, he speaks.

“General, let me… try the personal angle.” He says with a nod and ears folded back, voice raspy and firm. Ardmore stares intensively into his eyes, disbelief plastered on her face. She snaps her head towards the boy before turning to look at Quaritch with her mouth slightly agape in irritation.

“He’s not your son.” She tells him, glaring into his eyes warningly. Quaritch knows that there’s a hint of threat in her tone, and he doesn’t say anything but maintain the eye contact. Ardmore purses her lips and gives him one last stare before turning her head forward and walking down the steps of the scanner. Quaritch’s eyes follow her, turning his head towards her form until she steps on the floor of the Neurolab. Without any more words she strides off. Wainfleet steps out of her way and gives her a respectful head nod as she leaves and Quaritch turns his head towards the boy still strapped on the scanner. He reaches in and unstraps him, yanking the leads off of him. Two strong, muscled arms reach towards the boy’s figure and pull him out of the scanner. With exhausted and half lidded eyes he stares up at the Recombinant that is now carrying his weak body in his arms. Quaritch chuckles.

“Tough guy, huh? How’s that workin’ out for you?” He says softly to the kid before wiping his bloody nose with his thumb. He turns around and with heavy strides, starts making his way towards the door. Wainfleet watches him before following behind, as scientists and personnel watch them with wide eyes. Right as the two Recoms are about to exit, yet again Quaritch stops. With a curious stare he turns around, eyes frantically searching again for something that has caught his attention. Wainfleet raises a brow again, trying to figure out what is up with his Colonel today, but before he can start thinking too much of it, Quaritch has turned back towards the exit and has now stepped out. Wainfleet follows, the two pairs of combat boots thudding heavily on the metal floors, before the doors slide closed behind them.

。。。

Miles clenches his jaw as they walk through the hallway. That scent. That mind numbing scent. That scent that he smelled again. Just like the one that was lingering around the entrance of the Neurolab when he arrived. Similar to the one he fisted his cock to in the ISV Vindicator. She’s around here somewhere. He knows it.

。。。

In the second story of the Neurolab, Y/N and Captain Keller slowly get closer to the rail that lets them look down upon the brain imaging booth and the scanner. Y/N brings her Recom Breather mask up to her face and takes a deep sip, filling her lungs with the much needed carbon dioxide. John chuckles in disbelief, his amber eyes staring at the now empty scanner, before he turns his head towards her.

“Did you see that, General?” He asks, his raspy voice clearly displaying disapproval. Y/N’s stare onto the scanner is hard and filled with distaste. She removes the mask from her face and her cropped ears fold back slightly before speaking in a serious tone.

“Damn right I saw.”

After attending some important matters, Ardmore heads towards her office to review a few reports and then finish work for the day. After all, eclipse has fallen long ago and everyone has already wrapped up their shifts. But being the RDA’s Expeditionary Force Commander, she cannot rest so easily like the rest of the people on base, as the future of humanity is ultimately upon her shoulders. These thoughts roam her mind as she walks through the now dead and quiet corridors, her footsteps echoing through the hallways. After a few seconds, she arrives in front of her office door, pressing her keycard to the scanner on the right side. The door slides open and she takes a step inside before her senses heighten alarmingly as her eyes fall on the large blue figure in her office. Instinctively, her hand flies to her handgun but a further look at the Na’vi and she sighs, releasing her grip on the firearm.

“For fucks sake, L/N.”

Y/N gives her a grin, sat on one of the couches in Ardmore’s office with her legs one over the other on top of the coffee table in front of the piece of furniture.

“Apologies for my unannounced presence, General.” She replies, fidgeting with a combat knife as she continues sitting comfortably on the couch. Ardmore frowns at her once before stepping into the office, the door sliding closed behind her. She walks to her desk and takes off the holster along with the gun, placing it on top of the surface before turning away.

“Not only did you not attend to my side when I asked you to today, but you also made yourself comfortable in my office without my permission, after the work day nonetheless. Care to explain yourself?” She asks coldly, walking to the coffee machine in the corner of her office and turning it on.

“Ah, apologies, I plead guilty for the second charge. Not for the first one though.” Y/N says with a chuckle, running her elegant blue fingers over the black blade. “Coffee at night, General? I thought you were the healthy type.”

Ardmore huffs once in amusement, grabbing a standard-issue RDA coffee mug from a cupboard nearby and putting it under the coffee dispenser.

“When the fate of humanity is on your shoulders, you’ve thrown health out the window a long time ago.” She replies, turning around to lean against the table that the coffee machine and a few other assortments are on, and facing Y/N. Ardmore crosses her arms over her chest as the machine starts buzzing.

“So, why are you here?” She presses. Y/N’s eyes fall on her before she lowers her feet from the coffee table and sits up on the couch. She tucks the knife into its sheath on her gear and places her elbows on top of her knees, leaning forward.

“I was there today. In the Neurolab. Captain Keller informed me as you requested and I complied. However, as I was about to enter the lab, Colonel Quaritch and his Lieutenant approached the lab as well. I did not want to make my presence known so I stayed out of sight. But I was there. I attempted to catch up to you after but your assistant informed me that you were occupied with some important matters. So I came over here and waited.”

Ardmore raises a brow, looking back at Y/N, expecting something more. Y/N catches on to her expression and sighs, reaching into one of the pockets of her tactical pants to pull out a small metal card with a magnetic strip. She puts it on top of the coffee table like she’s making a peace offering and places her elbow on top of her knee again.

“Yes, I did steal the keycard that unlocks the door to your office from your assistant. But to my defense, I did not know when you’d be returning. Besides, I don’t think he has noticed yet.” Y/N says, giving Ardmore a mischievous smile. Ardmore sighs heavily, turning around to press a button on the coffee machine and with a whirring buzz, it starts dispensing the hot drink into the mug below.

“Get to the point.” She says shortly, the tiredness from the day’s events catching up to her as she reaches for a packet of sugar on the table. Y/N nods slowly and looks away briefly. Her eyes fall on Ardmore’s pistol on top of the desk and she runs her vision over it for a while.

“What do you think of Quaritch’s actions today?” She asks after a brief moment of silence. Ardmore stops her movements for a few seconds, before pouring the contents of the packet into the coffee and grabbing a small spoon from a container next to the sugar packets.

“Are you trying to hint at something?” She responds, not replying to Y/N’s question. Y/N’s ears fold back and she shifts briefly in place.

“Come on, General. I saw your suspicion and disapproval as he shut off the scanner and asked to interrogate the boy himself. You can’t tell me you don’t think that he’s onto something.” Y/N finally presses, watching the back of Ardmore’s head carefully. Ardmore stirs her coffee slowly, grabbing the mug by the handle and turning towards Y/N again. She continues stirring her drink as she looks over at the Recom whose eyes are now flashing in a dangerous glint.

“I know what you’re trying to say. Yes, his actions seemed questionable to me because of the link the boy holds to the original Miles Quaritch. However, I don’t think anything is going on. If the scanner can’t get the information out of the prisoner then the personal approach that Quaritch will be attempting tomorrow might lead us to something.” She replies. Y/N clenches her jaw, swallowing down the saliva in her mouth before trying again.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I think you’re overlooking something that can turn into a problem later on. He’s clearly fond of the kid. He did not turn the scanner off to try and suggest interrogating the boy, he did it to save his life. I know desperation when I see it. A few more minutes in the scanner and the kid’s brain would have been leaking out of his ears. No commanding officer saves a prisoner of war like that just for the purpose of an interrogation. I don’t know about you but I don’t want to risk having an officer in my ranks who has a soft spot for a prisoner who serves our enemy.” Y/N says, looking carefully at Ardmore who has now stopped stirring and is looking back at her with a thoughtful expression. She then inhales deeply and looks away for a brief moment, before raising the mug up to her lips and taking a sip.

“I appreciate your concern, L/N. But for now, I think you’re being a bit too paranoid. However, I will be watching Quaritch more carefully, if that puts your mind at ease. For now, focus on your own team and your missions, and let me do my job and deal with my own personnel.”

Y/N clenches her jaw again, clearly disappointed at the reply she received. She thinks about it but she does not argue. Instead, with a deep sigh, she leans back onto the couch, defeated.

“As you wish, ma’am.” She replies with a bored tone, turning her vision to the handgun on the desk again.

Ardmore walks to her desk and sits down, putting the coffee mug on top of the wood surface. Y/N slowly reaches forward for the pistol, her size allowing her to do so and she takes the firearm into her hands. With a pleased expression, she starts inspecting it while Ardmore turns on her personal datapad to take a look at some reports.

“A .40 caliber United Ballistics Zarkov-33, huh. Not bad, some of my troopers use the Recom version of this too. Powerful firearm. I see why it’s our standard. Though, I’d expect you to have something more personalized, General.” Y/N comments, inspecting the tactical light-laser and rangefinder on top of the muzzle of the gun.

“Yeah? Like this?” Ardmore replies nonchalantly, her eyes still on the datapad as she reaches down and pulls out her high magazine MIL-SPEC 502. Y/N’s eyes sparkle like a kid as she sees the sidearm being put on top of the desk and she puts the Z-33 Pistol next to the keycard on top of the coffee table and immediately reaches for the new gun. She inspects it carefully from the harness system to the grip and the 16 round magazine, muttering a little “damn” under her breath as she admires the weapon with her tail swinging side to side behind her. Ardmore slowly takes another sip of her coffee, before putting the mug down and speaking to her with her eyes still on the report.

“Now please get out of my office.”

Y/N’s ears fold back as she realizes that she’s been playing with a gun like a cat with a yarn ball while occupying her commander’s office.

“Right.” She replies, putting the second gun down on the coffee table as well and standing up.

“Good night, General.” She says in a firm tone, saluting Ardmore respectfully before turning around and heading out. As the door slides closed behind her, Ardmore sighs and takes another sip of her coffee. This is going to be a long night.

“Can you believe this? They’re helpless. Absolutely fuckin’ helpless.” Riley huffs out, raspy voice laced with irritation as he moves with his usual heavy steps and hands clasped behind his back. Y/N stands between him and Scott, the three of them walking through the training fields as soldiers run around under the sun, doing their daily drills. A bit further away, aircrafts take off and land, trains and vehicles move relentlessly, creating a noisy and busy atmosphere around them as Bridgehead city buzzes in activity as always.

“I’ve seen fuckin’ pigs more coordinated than this.”

Scott hums, raising a brow at Riley’s last comment.

“Oh com’ on LT. They jus’ stepped foot hier. Give ‘em a break, will ya?” He replies, looking at Riley who in return turns to stare at him.

“A fuckin’ break?! What do you think we’re doing here, playing nanny? We’re at war for fuck’s sake. Pull your head out of your arse.”

Y/N sighs, as Scott and Riley start going at it once again. Riley has recently been put in charge of training new recruits into enforcing the protection of Bridgehead city, seeing that Y/N and ALPHA have now taken over a good amount of Na’vi land territories, putting Bridgehead into the center of the natives’ attention. And as you might imagine, the man is not happy with his new troops’ level of skills. Not in the slightest bit. He’s been training them relentlessly, to the point that multiple recruits have passed out or thrown their guts up on the training field, for which in both cases they have gotten harsh punishment. Scott has disagreed to this for weeks now, arguing that these are the only soldiers they have available at the moment and if Riley continues like this he’ll kill them in no time, besides, the recruits that arrive on Bridgehead are already trained and what Riley is doing is unnecessary. He persistently repeats that they cannot afford to loose troops, skilled or not, because human capital is sacred on Pandora.

Y/N raises a gloved hand, stopping their argument on the spot, as they both give each other one last glare and fall quiet, turning to look at their commander.

“Riley is correct. We cannot have recruits this undertrained, especially during a time of uprising tensions. I’ll have a chat with General Ardmore about this. It seems that we need to establish new requirements for who can board on Pandora as a trooper.”

And with that both men nod and the argument is wrapped up.

“Hahaha she still pacifies you both. Better start calling her mommy.”

The three of them turn towards Lieutenant Álvarez and Captain Keller who are walking towards them, with John chuckling at Fernando’s comment. Riley scowls and Scott grins as the two higher ranking officers approach with lazy, heavy strides, hands clasped behind their carrier plates.

“I’m not listening to the comments of a man who got shot on his ass by the cartel.” Riley replies which makes Scott burst in laughter.

“Oh I forgot ‘bout tha’.” He says in between laughs as Fernando and John are now standing with them on the training ground. “Ye literally ran around the battlefield with a bullet up yer ass.”

Y/N hides a smile at Scott’s last comment as Riley and John laugh, with Fernando cracking a smile as well. After they all finish laughing he turns his head towards the recruits training some meters away from them. His tail flicks behind him in curiosity and he speaks to Riley without moving his eyes from the soldiers.

“I see you’re still not going easy on them.” He says as he watches the exhausted men and women try to not break down in the middle of the exercises.

“Yeah, it’s fuckin’ embarrassing. These are the people we’re supposed to colonize with. Pathetic.” Riley replies as all five of them are now watching the recruits. A few seconds later one of the men stops running, absolutely exhausted to the point that his body cannot move anymore and he remains behind while the group that is running laps continues. This only feeds into Riley’s irritation and with a booming voice, he yells.

“AY PRIVATE! WHAT THE FUCK?! SO WE JUST STANDING AROUND PLAYING WITH COCKS NOW?!”

His voice booms throughout the training field and multiple recruits flinch at the sound, staring up at the Recom in horror for a brief second before continuing their exercises. The poor recruit, a young man, flinches at the yelling, and stares at Riley in shock and fear.

“MOVE YER FUCKIN’ ARSE! STOP STARING AT ME LIKE YER WAITING FOR ME TO BLOW A DAMN LOAD ON YOUR FACE!” The Recombinant yells again. The terrified recruit gathers all of the strength he has left and scrams away, trying to hide in the line of the group running laps. Riley sighs in frustration, bringing his gloved hand up to rub the flat bridge of his nose as the rest of the Recoms chuckle.

“This looks like fun. I might be the one training them one of these days.” Y/N comments, crossing her arms as she watches the recruits in amusement and Riley scoffs in reply.

“Be my guest, General.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

The Recoms turn around to see Sergeant Herrera approaching them, walking with her usual swaying hips and cocky demeanor, tail moving slowly behind her. The rest give her a friendly nod as they see her walk closer and she smiles.

“General. Captain. Lieutenants. Sergeant.” She greets them all accordingly before turning to Y/N.

“General, Sergeant Davis has made another strategic plan for taking over the west forest area above the border, and he wants you to go over it. He’s currently with the science department, in the main labs, consulting them on a few details. When you have the time, your presence would be appreciated.”

Y/N hums, uncrossing her arms and turning to her.

“Thank you, Maria. Well, I’ll see you later then gentlemen. I hope the training goes well, Lieutenant Jones. I’ll speak to Ardmore tomorrow about the whole thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” They reply in unison.

The men nod, saluting her respectfully and without further ado, Y/N turns and walks away, leaving them and Maria alone on the training field. As she moves away, they all turn towards watching the recruits again, with Riley’s irritation back in check.

“NOW DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME FIFTY, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Y/N doesn’t particularly hate the science department. But she doesn’t like them either. They’re just there, existing in the same space as her and her troops, and she pays them no mind. The only person from her team that interacts with them on a regular is Henry Davis. Being the Master Gunnery Sergeant, he is the one responsible for coming up with new strategies, tactics and plans. That includes constantly consulting the science department on Pandora’s flora and fauna, so every possibility in a mission can be accounted for. And up until now, he has done amazing. Not only have his strategies never failed once, but he has managed to learn a vast amount of information about Pandora in an incredibly short time. To say that Y/N is very proud would be an understatement.

This is what she’s thinking as she walks through the corridors to get to the science department building. Her steps are lazy as she is in no rush, taking her time and looking around here and there. She takes a turn to a larger corridor that connects the main labs to the headquarters of the department, a spacious tunnel that also connects other parts of the building to each other. As she sets her eyes on the doors of the labs, something pounces at the corner of her vision. In a flash, Y/N has already drawn out her most powerful handgun, pointing the muzzle at the thing that now looks up at her with its yellow eyes. A viperwolf. Y/N’s senses are now fully alarmed and locked in on the creature that has stopped moving and lowered its body closer to the floor in caution, with its six limbs bent. Creatures like this have attacked her forces before. They are extremely hostile and lethal to humans. So how the fuck did an animal like this get in here? Breathing getting faster, she keeps the gun pointed at it and sensing the danger, the viperwolf clenches its snake like jaw and bares its obsidian teeth at her, growling warningly at the Recom. Y/N pulls back the slide of her gun, ready to shoot the thing dead if it tries anything. The animal growls harder, moving one clawed hand forward, and just as Y/N is about to pull the trigger-

“DON’T SHOOT HIM!”

At the sound of the feminine voice, the viperwolf runs away towards it. Y/N scowls, snapping back towards the voice to try and get a peak of the person who has let this thing loose. Her breath catches right in her throat.

Standing a few feet away from her, is the most beautiful woman that Y/N has ever laid eyes on. Flowing long locks of black hair with a few interlocked braids fall on her shoulders, bringing forth her gorgeous, beautiful face with big amber eyes that look at Y/N carefully. She is dressed in a dark blue and black uniform that Y/N has never seen before, but it has the RDA’s logo. It’s tight fitting to her thin, elegant Na’vi body, the top cropped right above her cleavage, showing a pair of firm collarbones. Her tail moves slowly behind her, still cautious at the possibility that Y/N might shoot the animal which is now hiding behind her long, elegant legs. Are all Na’vi women so breathtaking beautiful? Realizing that she’s ogling, Y/N clears her throat and relaxes her posture, putting the handgun back in its holster.

“Care to explain why you have a wild animal, nevertheless a viperwolf, running around base?” She speaks, regaining her commander voice as her ears fold back and she pins the woman with a stare. The girl’s eyes take in Y/N from head to toe, before they fall on her tail which is moving side to side behind her, betraying her hardened soldier composure. A playful smile falls on her lips and she turns her doe eyes to Y/N’s face.

“He is not a wild animal, ma’am. He is my friend. I raised him since he was a tiny cub. You’re the one who drew her weapon at an unprovoked animal.” She replies, crossing her toned arms over her chest. The woman’s soothing voice prickles goosebumps on Y/N’s skin, soft and tranquil to the ear. But Y/N is a master at hiding emotions. She scowls at the girl, raising a brow disapprovingly as she stares her judgmentally up and down.

“I’m sorry, did you say “friend”? I knew you science department chicks had a few screws loose but I didn’t think it was this bad.” She replies with a condescending tone. But instead of getting offended, the girl chuckles. That catches Y/N off guard briefly, and she looks at her with a questioning expression. The woman turns her eyes to Y/N’s, looking into them through her long lashes with an amused smile and she starts walking towards the General. Y/N can’t help but stare as even her walk is attention catching, so elegant yet humble, her long tail swinging playfully side to side. The viperwolf follows behind her, staying close to her long and toned legs and rubbing its body on her calves. She stops in front of Y/N, careful to not get into her personal space, and brings her right hand forward for a handshake.

“Name’s Toddy. I’ve heard quite a lot about you, General. You have a feared reputation ‘round ‘ere. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She says with a smile, waiting for Y/N to engage in the handshake. Y/N can’t help but notice a faint southern drawl in her way of speaking, and she looks down at her hand, admiring the elegant veins on it for a second, before clasping it with her own. Five fingers. Thankfully not a native.

“Recombinant?” Y/N asks as they shake hands, noticing how her palm is pleasantly warm. Toddy shakes her head.

“Avatar.” She replies as they end the handshake. “Though I wish I could maintain a Na’vi body permanently.”

Y/N chuckles, crossing her arms.

“It’s not a blessing. Trust me. Try sleeping with a tail and a neural whip. Nine times out of ten you’ll crush them with your body or an elbow and you’ll wake up hissing in pain.” She replies and Toddy giggles, her tail moving behind her in delight.

“If I could have this body forever, I’d take my chances. So, what brings you to these parts of base, General? Here for Sergeant Davis I assume?”

Y/N nods once as she lightly shifts in place, with her cropped ears slightly folding back in approval. Toddy notices them and her eyes narrow for a split second, before she gives Y/N a smile.

“Well then, follow me.”

。。。

Toddy brings Y/N to one of the main labs, probably the biggest one. The viperwolf follows behind them, staying close to Toddy and occasionally looking around. The lab is noisy and filled with personnel, people running around with datapads, samples and lab equipment, some of them in white coats some others in corporate attire. Everyone seems to be deep in work, not lifting their heads from what they’re doing and deep in conversations with each other. Y/N turns to Toddy as they both walk amongst them.

“It’s quite busy in here. The scientists who we see in our parts of base aren’t usually this erratic in work. Is everyday like this?” She asks, looking at the woman next to her. Toddy shakes her head.

“Not usually. It’s often quite chill in here, people mind their own research in their labs. But since that prisoner that Colonel Quaritch brought in resisted the DPF’s NeuroSect E7.2T scanner yesterday, everyone has been scrambling to figure out a way for it to not happen again. No one has been able to understand what went wrong until now, and that’s a big problem.” She explains, looking back at Y/N. “The scanner is an extremely important tool not only for the department, but for the entire mission. It is the primary way of how we figure out different things about Pandora from the memories of the native’s, avatar’s and our own people, without having to go outside and risk our lives to gain information. If a human boy can fight it then it raises a huge uncertainty if we can use it again in the future.”

Y/N looks away in thought, watching the people around them as they make way for the two larger women and the animal to pass through the human sized facility. She then turns back to Toddy.

“So, what’s your specialization? Some fancy zoology shit?” She asks as she gives the viperwolf a glance at that last sentence and Toddy chuckles, shaking her head.

“Oh? Is the General interested in me?” She says, tilting her head teasingly with a smile and Y/N scoffs, furrowing her brows like a nine year old who has been told that her playground buddy has a crush on her. That makes Toddy chuckle.

“I’m not a scientist. I’m a scout.” She then replies, turning her head to look forward as to not bump into any humans.

“A scout? What’s that? Like the rangers we have in our department?” Y/N asks with a raised brow, moving away a female scientist that nearly walks into her.

“No, not really. Your rangers are responsible for surprise raids on the Na’vi in the forest. My job on the other hand is to go into the wild to gather the samples that the scientists and the medics require for their research or other uses.” Toddy replies, turning her hips slightly to show Y/N the sample storing bag secured on her belt. “I wouldn’t be considered a scientist since I don’t do research, but I am very well informed about the ecosystems of Pandora, as well as all of its species. At least the ones humanity has been able to discover and research up until now.”

Y/N nods once, looking slightly intrigued.

“So I’m assuming you know your way around the forest then.” She says, tilting her head slightly. Toddy grins.

“Like the back of my hand.”

They have now arrived to a spacious lab room where a bunch of specialists in white coats are talking to the large male Recom amongst them, wearing ALPHA’s casual uniform. Y/N watches momentarily as Henry continues to converse with them, before turning to the beautiful woman next to her who has been eyeing Y/N’s pretty face for a few seconds now.

“This is where we part then.”

Toddy smiles, watching Y/N through her lashes with her doe eyes before reaching for a final handshake.

“Maybe I could show you ‘round the forest sometime, General. Without the uniform and the high caliber destructive weapons.” She replies, her long ears slightly raising up as she says the last sentence to Y/N. The General grasps her hand, giving it a firm shake before letting go.

“I’ll think about it, Toddy.”

“Well alright then.”

And with that, Toddy gives Y/N one final beautiful smile before turning around and walking away. Her steps are calm and her posture is relaxed as she walks, taking her time to move her hips to her own rhythm and leisure while her tail moves side to side behind her. The viperwolf follows behind, with the paddled end of its tail wagging behind it. Y/N now notices the collar on its neck, dark blue and black that match its owner’s uniform, the dark colors almost making it blend completely to the black skin of its neck. She shakes her head and turns towards the room where Henry has now noticed his General, before walking inside.

Title explanation:

SSDD - Same Shit, Different Day.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

[hotsingledragon]

HIHI I AM IN LOVE WITH UR WRITINF OMG. especially the most recent request AHHH!! was enthralled when I saw reqs were open!

can u do something with a REALLY jealous miles where he just fucks reader silly or he’s frustrated and takes his anger out on her iykwim? also could u put in an aftercare scene if that’s not to much to ask for, i ADORE how you portray miles as a big softie for his lover and i want more fluff with him

hi, omg, this is SO overdue. i got carried away! hope you enjoy <3

jealous/frustrated miles quaritch

recom miles quaritch x recom fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: smut, rough piv sex, exhibitionism if you squint?, biting, tiniest mention of blood, spanking??

Deja Blue celebrates a successful mission in the recreation room. it’s relaxed, just a small gathering amongst the squad, though Miles Quaritch is rarely one to mingle. so he remains posted against the wall, drowning out the squad in front of him. he stares blankly, disinterested at the RDA screensaver on the television that phases through images of pandora’s landscapes and bridgehead city.

but his attention will stray when your twinkling laugh fills the room. miles will watch you in your playfully animated movements and that smile that rounds your cheeks. miles expression rarely leaves a scowl, but it softens in the slightest as he observes you from his post.

you’re just being friendly, it’s your first mission as a freshly recruited recombinant, and you want to celebrate. conversation comes so naturally for you- you’re smiling and laughing and so unaware of the perverted looks Fike, Brown and Wainfleet and are giving you. they’re sharing glances and snickering like children, each of their lame innuendos falling on deaf ears.

when the conversation shifts, miles’ ears perk as fike very loudly makes a crude pass at you. it doesn’t land- there’s an awkward silence for about three seconds before lyle and brown struggle to hold in chortles of laughter, and you can only frown in embarrassment.

now there’s an even angrier scowl cracking over miles features, and he glares at sean with wide eyes that are flooding with rage. if the colonel were a rational man, he would just cut the guy off with a sharp quip and dismiss the whole team for trials. but he’s not, he’s fucking pissed off.

so instead, Quaritch is pushing off the wall, quickly approaching in big strides until he spins fike in his chair. miles snatches the loose collar of his shirt and rears back in a punch that crashes into the left side of his face. there’s an audible crack of bone.

Fike yelps, turning everyone’s attention and the room erupts in shock. in an instant, it goes eerily silent as the team recognizes their colonel in an ill sodden mood.

Quaritch hauls fike closer, looking down on him with teeth bared. he’s absolutely livid, cropped ears pinned against his head, his tail high and thrashing behind him.

“i don’t wanna hear none of that shit comin’ out of your mouth ever fucking again, private.” quaritch hisses at the soldier before knocking him back. fike is dazed, cradling his broken nose as he flops into the rolling chair. miles turns, looking over the squad.

“every single one of you fucks needs t’find something better to do than running your god damn mouths. dismissed!” quaritch barks at the team, sure to make eye contact with the three offenders.

you move to file out out of the room with the others when the colonel catches your arm, completely halting your steps.

“not you, corporal.”

his grip on you is tight and unrelenting, pressing so firmly into your flesh that you think it might even bruise. your eyes flicker to meet his gaze, a furrow to your brow

miles is already looking down on you, harsh and fierce. he’s so visually striking up close, eyes glowing and features downturned a deep frown

you blink at him and lick your lips nervously. you recover quickly, nodding curtly with your eyes lowered. the colonel doesn’t let go even as the automatic doors quietly hiss shut.

the air is silent for all of three seconds before quaritch is roughly pushing your shoulders, forcing you to catch yourself against the large table. he’s on you in a heartbeat, pinning you flatly on its surface. his long limbs capture you easily, and you hiss in frustration. the nerve of him! you thrash under his steady hold, grabbing and kicking at him.

“excuse me! what the fuck?! you-“

you’re cut off as his palm pushes against your mouth.

“y’better watch that tone, missy.” quaritch warns you.

your protests are mumbled as you push at his shoulders and chest, you even lick his palm to get him off you. the colonel doesn’t budge

“y’really wanna do this right now?” his voice raises, eyes piercing into you.

his expression sends a clear message. you take a steadying breath through your nose, silent but glaring.

“that’s what i thought, now shut up an’ listen. flirting with the squad ain’t part of the deal, you understand?” forefinger pointing in your face

“flirting!” you try to mumble behind his hand, squirming in disbelief because you would never flirt with those guys. gross.

Quaritch shakes his head in doubt. “don’t act like you weren’t. y’know you did wrong, n’ now you’ll face the consequence.” the colonel says lowly, his hungry gaze floating from your heaving chest to the frustrated wrinkle between your brows. his eyes flick between yours, capturing the shift from agitation to mild curiosity. he finds the smallest, yet brightest fleck of desire in your amber eyes, too.

miles is replacing his palm with his slick tongue shoving into your mouth. he takes your wrists, single-handedly pinning them above your head and slotting his body against yours. he dominates the kiss, mouth sliding roughly over your own. he even nips at your bottom lip, puncturing the soft flesh. he groans at the metallic taste of your blood on his tongue.

you’re both spread out, bodies almost too big for the table you lay on. miles grinds into you purposefully, half hard and working his dick right over your center. it’s torturous with the layers of fabric between you, and you push your hips up to meet his own, kissing him harder.

miles growls, then he’s rucking your tank top over your chest. he groans in approval when exposing your breasts. quaritch will bite and suck on the soft mounds, marking you. his teeth will sink into your flesh, indenting your skin. the sting of it is followed by his rough tongue licking flatly over the punctures. it’s a stark contrast to his fingers tickling over your ribs. you huff out a breath of air, a small sound you cannot hold in any longer.

then quaritch pulls away abruptly, standing above you.

“don’t move. that’s a fuckin’ order, squeak.” he commands in his deep american drawl.

you can only look up at him with hooded eyes. “yes, sir” you hum. you let your body arch teasingly, pushing your chest out into the chill air and wiggling your hips cutely.

your belly swims with the perceived praise of his chuckles, the sound purring and warm. he’s even grinning, his hands falling to his hips as he takes in every bit of you splayed out for him. his eyes linger over your face, enjoying how flustered you look already with blushing cheeks and eyes swimming with lust. his gaze travels to your chest, your nipples peaked after his sensual assault. then he’s following the curve of your hips, and he’s awfully offended by the rough fabric of those tiny little shorts you wear all the damn time.

his fingers hook into the waistband, pushing to reveal thin lace covering your cunt, adorned with a cute little bow under your navel.

“well, look at you, corporal. who are you wearin’ these for, huh? private fike? prager?” he asks, somewhat teasing you, tracing under the hem before letting the elastic snap against your hip. he won’t admit it, but there is a part of miles that genuinely wants to know. he bites his lip.

you fluster and shake your head vigorously, pouting at him. “no sir… i-i just like how they look, do you like them?” you wonder, a mix of embarrassment and want making you blush to your chest.

quaritch bunches the delicate lace at your hip, and you gasp as he rips it from your body. it stings, chafing the soft skin between your thighs. he smirks as your tail wraps around your calf, a new habit of yours when anxious.

he stands to his full height, heavy footsteps echoing in the large recreation room. you’re suddenly reminded where you are, where the walls are mostly glass, and the chances of someone passing by are 100 fucking percent. you panic a little, eyes darting to the sliding doors then searching for quaritch.

“colonel? um, could we make sure the shutters are active?” you hope.

your eyes follow him even if he doesn’t spare you a glance, his own eyes trained past the glass. the colonel’s heavy footsteps halt when standing directly behind you, and you’re forced to tilt your head back and watch him upside down.

he’s looking down at you, cradling your jaw. “you’ll be alright, hon’. now open your mouth,” he taps your cheek twice.

you’re nervous now, a little hesitant as you move your jaw, sticking your tongue out flatly.

“atta girl” miles rumbles, lightly slapping your cheek. his nimble fingers fall to work on his belt. the metal clanks loudly and you breathe in anticipation, your gaze drawn towards the straining bulge just inches in front of you.

quaritch makes quick work of it, humming as the zipper passes over his hard length.

his cock nearly hits you in the face, the way it bobs and stands in front of you. it’s thicker than any dick you’ve ever witnessed, longer too. it’s swollen to a pretty shade of indigo, a healthy pink at his tip. he’s beading with precum, and you watch as it gathers and trails alongside the vein gracing the underside of his cock. your mouth goes dry, and you swallow thickly.

“keep that mouth open, girl.”

you obey, stretching your jaw even wider as quaritch guides his leaking tip to your mouth. he’s soft with it at first, guiding his tip into your mouth and you hum at the salty taste of him. you kiss the tip sweetly, then begin leaving your wet tongue over his shaft.

the colonel hums. “you’re good, darlin’, take some more.” and you nearly gag as his length touches the back of your throat. you recover and find your rhythm, taking more as you bob your head.

eventually miles will be fucking your throat, grasping at your breasts as if they give him leverage to thrust into you.

“fuckn slut, can’t get enough of my dick down your throat, huh?” he growls, sending a series of quick slaps over your tits.

but you’re liking this too much, so he gets mean. he’ll shove inside your mouth, unmoving and letting your throat lurch tightly around his cock.

then miles will begin to touch you. you whine around his length when he pinches your nipples, calloused fingers rolling over the sensitive buds. he smacks the plump flesh of your breasts, and his fingers lightly trail to your soft center, touching your folds lightly before landing a quick slap on your pussy. it makes you jolt, your hips twitch and that earns you another slap.

“i gave you an order, corporal. quit fucking moving.”

and miles just keeps fucking your face. the the feeling’s too much, you’re gagging harshly and pushing your palm against his thigh to slow his thrusts, to no avail. he’s thoroughly using you, and you’re unable to do anything but simply take it. you remind yourself to breathe, trying to bob your throat at the same pace.

“there ya’ go, good girl,” quaritch moans, his syllables drawn out in pleasure. he lets two fingers push through your wet slit, running back and forth from your clit to your hole. you moan around him, and quaritch groans with satisfaction

“you’re so wet, it’s filthy. you gettin’ off on bein’ used like this? dirty girl,” quaritch smirks in a lustful haze. he’ll rub you quick and fast over your clit, making you squeal around his dick.

he’s hunched over you when he comes, letting a groan erupt from his chest. he pulls back to watch his seed slipping past your lips. you’re ruined, coughing and heaving for breath, eyes filled with tears and mouth so pretty and swollen.

“turn and face me,” quaritch would command you lowly. you pick yourself up,

your naked form agile, beautiful, flexible as you sit on the edge of the table. miles stands tall in front of you, eyes running wildly over your body and you watch him expectantly.

suddenly his hands are on you, holding your hips and lifting you off the table and your feet plop onto the cold ceramic floor. then quaritch is twirling your shoulders- pushing your chest against the table. it’s only moments before his dick slides into you, and it’s almost too much. there’s no going easy, just the sudden plunge of his dick into your body. it stretches you wide; a deep, burning ache inside of you. you pinch your eyes shut, waiting for the sensation to melt into pleasure.

“cmon, you can take more than that,” miles taunts. his palm presses right between your shoulder blades, pinning you as he delivers a series of long, deep thrusts. again, you remind yourself to breathe

“that’s it darlin’, loosen up for me. so fckn tight around my cock-“ he grits behind clenched teeth, picking up to a steady and delicious rhythm

his cock keeps pressing into that sensitive spot that nearly blinds you with pleasure. your eyes roll into your skull and you whine pathetically

“those virgins wouldn’t know what to do with you-“

miles’ abdomen presses against your back, leaning over you and biting the elongated cartilage of your ear. his hand takes your hip, angling you to take him even deeper and it makes you cry out, squirming under him.

“-wouldn’t know how to fuck this little pussy,” he mutters, his cheek presses to yours. you’re whimpering with every deep thrust, his cockhead ramming into your quivering insides.

miles tongue curls to catch the salty tears spilling over cheeks, caught in the feel of your tight spongy walls and the sweet sounds that fall from your parted lips

“workin’ me up, baby. gonna make me come inside that tight cunt-you want that, huh? want me to fill you up?” he growls into your ear, gripping your hips tighter.

you try your best to nod, cheek pressed into the table and hiding your whines behind your bitten lips.

“none of that, now. lemme hear you.”

then miles fingers are stuffing below your hips, smacking your clit before rubbing tight fast circles over the sensitive bundle.

your drawn like a bow with its arrow ready to fly, muscles quivering and aching for sweet release. your pussy is so tight around quaritch, locking around him to a point where he can no longer pull out of you, can only grind deeper into your slick heat.

“damn, kitty, you’re fuckin tight! you gonna come?” miles asks you mockingly, slowing his circles on your clit to match his lurid thrusts.

“yes sir!” you whine, broken moans clawing out of your chest

miles’ cheek presses to yours again. “tell me how good it is. tell me how good i’m fuckin’ you n’ how bad you wanna come.”

“s-so good! sir-i’m coming!” your sentence choppy with your cries of pleasure.

the bow inside of you snaps, and you scream with pleasure as you’re flooded with the hot sensation unfurling in your belly.

“that’s it, sugar, there ya’ go.” quaritch moans. your orgasm lasts so long, drawn out as miles keeps pushing into your cunt at a wild, fiery pace. he continues to rub across your clit, pressing harder when you attempt to squirm away

“i’m the only one allowed to have you like this, got it, squeak? no one else.” the colonel grinds behind his teeth, beginning to lose his rhythm as he fucks into you.

you can only cry out, your voice raw from the pleasure miles draws out of you. you’re shaking with overstimulation, letting these poor little whimpers fall from you plump mouth.

“shit! go on, honey. let everyone know who you belong to. you’re mine, now,” quaritch grits out. his grip on you is bruising, thrusts growing erratic as he chases the ache in his lower abdomen.

miles begins to let out his own breathy moans, rocking into you until he’s buried to the hilt. he grunts with a last few thrusts, and you whimper weakly at the feel of his cum spurting inside of you.

—

his body covers yours entirely, heavy as he comes down and settles his forehead between your shoulders. you slump against the table, hiccuping to catch your breath. quaritch is no better, breathing heavily against your back. you feel the tired ache through your body, and you’re grateful when miles pulls out of you. miles lifts himself, still holding your hips.

quaritch takes a moment to admire your form slumped against the table. your eyelashes are wet with tears, cheeks flushed and swollen mouth taking in stuttering hiccups of air. your hair is disheveled, bangs sticking to your skin and his eyes follow the braid that twists down your back. he follows the taper of your waist to your plump bum, and he can’t help but reach and squeeze at your flesh. he spreads you, watching his cum leak from your hole.

he notices your wobbly knees, smirking to himself. he finds your shorts, sliding them up your thighs and to your waist. he pulls your top to cover you properly, scoops you up in big arms and carries you towards the lounge

his hand splays across your back as he walks. “did good, kid, took it like a champ.” he settles into the cushions, pulling you across his lap. you tuck yourself into his chest.

“m’sorry if i was a bit rough on ya,”

there’s a beat of silence, until he finishes with “y’seemed to like it though,” he quirks, brows raising and letting out a dry chuckle that reveals his pink tongue and sharp canines.

you snort and roll your eyes playfully, hiding your face in his shoulder. he’s glad to see your reaction, he laughs and plants a kiss on your hair before resting his head on top of yours, cheek presses against your soft raven hair

you’re both silent for moment, your eyes flutter tiredly as miles’ fingertips run back and forth over your thigh.

“goddamn dickheads, let ‘em try sayin somethin’ stupid like that again. i won’t be so nice. fuckin’ morons,” quaritch grumbles, pouting.

notes: OH MY GOD. i’m so sorry, this is long overdue! ive been in a huge personal transition- job promotion, moving, all the things! and i wanted to do you justice with this request. i tend to characterize miles as a little softer than he actually is, and i hope i captured him a bit better this time around! hope you enjoy sweet sparklingenvy. always happy to see you in my inbox!

[im-kaii]

AVATAR THE WAY OF WATER fanfic idea

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

okay but imagine...

Reader is a lab-grown na’vi/avatar hybrid.

They woke up inside of a lab in Bridgehead City, a year after the RDA came back to Pandora and the Recoms woke up. (Right around the time, when the kids were first captured by the recoms in the forest) The reader is younger than the other recoms, they’re around the age of 13 to 15 years old, basically a lab-created child soldier. (Except they don’t have any memories like the other Recoms) Despite the warnings from the scientists who help create the reader, General Ardmore ordered Reader to join Quaritch and Deja Blu on their mission to track down Jake Sully.

Although Spider is a bit cautious of the Recoms, he’s able to form a bond with Reader. Honestly, Reader reminds him of Lo’ak and Kiri. They became friends. He taught Reader everything he knew about Pandora. They can even speak Na'vi just as well as Spider.

Reader was on the beach of the Ta’nuni Village. The poor thing was horrified, even begging Quaritch not to kill the Tsahik. Reader stayed on the ship with Spider as they watched Ronal’s spirit sister and her baby be killed at the hands of Scoresby and his crew. (Reader was in tears that night and Spider is there to comfort them)

During the battle at Three Brothers Rock, Reader is separated from everyone in the chaos after the Sea Dragon crashes against the rocks. Reader helps Lo'ak, Neteyam, and Spider escape, but not without getting accidentally shot in the process.

After Jake and Neytiri storm the ship, Reader is hidden in the shadows but they see Neytiri's rage. And they're terrified. They even witness the standoff between Neytiri and Quaritch.

When the sink starts sinking, Reader helps Spider and Kiri get to safety but because of the waves, they're separated. The waves are too strong and Reader passes out and wakes up having washed up on a small island near Three Brothers. They can't go back to the RDA, because they're technically dead (in the eyes of the RDA) and they don't agree with their ways. And they're too scared to try and find the Na'vi.

A few days after the battle, a Metkayina search party (under the command of Jake and Tonowari) searched and cleaned up the shipwreck. (No, neteyam didn't die. he just passed out from blood loss and tsireya rushed him back to the village when she heard his weak heartbeat) While the group searches through the wreck, Reader's ikran flies above them. Spider recognizes it and follows it, which leads to the group finding Reader.

Reader is in bad shape, injured, dehydrated, and exhausted from the battle. Which leads to them being brought back to the village, to be treated. (with the combined help of Ronal, Norm, and Max) Spider is by their side the entire time. After waking up and reuniting with Spider, Reader is questioned by Jake and Tonowari. It is decided that Reader will stay in the village and be taught by the Sully kids and Metkayina kids.

After a bit of recovering and adjusting to a new environment, Reader seems excited to learn how to live among the Na'vi. But after one of their checkups with Norm and Max, there is a big secret/detail about Reader.

The reader has Jake's DNA...

Reader is Jake's biological child.

The End!

( hope you enjoyed it, who knows maybe I'll turn it into an actual story)

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Yandere! Recom Quaritch x Female Mutant/Human Reader

You bitterly showered and dolled yourself up for the sake of evading an argument. Your children seemed happy when their father announced he will take them all to a ship near the Ocean Tribes and swim in the beaches after. You didn't want to spoil the mood.

You evaded looking at Quaritch as you sat inside the ship while he played with the kids. You held your youngest daughter.

The whole time you put on a fake smile whenever your children spoke to you. You felt exhausted when you sat down on the sand while your family played in the water.

Quaritch would try to pull you to the side for obvious private reasons but he would always get interrupted by one of the kids and he would annoyingly let you go.

Then attend to the kids.

You were grateful.

That jerk kidnapped your ass and his human children to live at Bridgehead city.

Then impregnated you again with twin boys. Now a girl.

You don't regret your children. But, you wished how Quaritch and the other humans labelled you as a traitor. You refused to give information and betray your friends, Max, Jake, and Norm.

Neytiri doesn't like since you were a human. She only liked Grace.

But, you didn't want to hurt Neytiri and didn't blame her.

You stared at the ceiling. Your daughter finally went to sleep. So, you laid down on your bed and listened to the breaths of your daughter. Her crib was next your bed.

And before you can finally rest...the automatic sliding door opened and in came the damn Colonel.

He smirked at you and quickly took off his tank top and marine pants. He was now bare except his boxers. He slid in bed next to you and wrapped his muscular arms around your supple and lithe body. He kissed your cheek.

"Fuck." He sniffed your long swan neck. "Those brats kept distracting me from you. "

"I am glad you had fun with them." You gently stroked his cheek like a cat.

He purred and then his hands went under your nightgown and he cupped your right breast and teasingly stroked your nipple.

You let him take you but what he didn't know was that while you were at the beach. You gave Norm and Max the address of Bridgehead city and password to hack the computers of the base.

Jake and Neytiri planned to attack the base and rescue you and your children.

And hopefully end Quaritch's life for good.

[periprose]

pretty please rough navi quaritch smut where he splits reader's legs apart and breeds her?? Reader can be from the RDA and she has to let him breed her as part of the new embryo growth program :) <3

Woo boy anon!! This ask made my head explode in a really good way 😳 thank you

The Old Fashioned Way

Miles Quaritch x Reader

When Parker Selfridge tells you that the RDA needs one of your eggs, since you're a Recom, for new genetic material, you literally can't say no. It's an order that you can't refuse, since they're trying to make new embryos to experiment off of.

Of course, you're placed in a room with Miles Quaritch, your superior, who's unsuccessfully trying to harvest his own reproductive material, same as you. He decides to kill two birds with one stone, and suggest that you do it the old fashioned way.

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: Smut, pwp, breeding kink, unprotected sex, Quaritch being obsessed, 18+, no use of Y/N

Reader's name is Axe

“No way.” You cross your arms, staring down at Selfridge.

He’s just told you about the new RDA program. Growing Avatars and Recoms is easy and all, you know the process. Na’vi DNA was extracted successfully about twenty-five years ago- and there’s a process of combining human DNA with it to create new bodies.

It’s just that the Na’vi DNA has slowly been losing it’s potency with every sequencing process. You don’t know exactly what that’s all about- just that cloning deteriorates something about how strong the genes are. 

So the scientists and geneticists have decided that they need some kind of replacement, and they need it now. They wanted to track down more Na’vi, but considering how hard everyone’s asses get beat anytime the RDA gets a few klicks near their territory, it was a no go.

They’ve decided on the “natural way.”

As Selfridge has just said.

“ Why… not… just take my genes, Parker?” You bite your lip, and Selfridge shakes his head.

“Don’t make this anymore awkward than it has to be, Axe.” Selfridge stares at his fingernails, which somehow makes him look like even more of a prick. “Your genes are no bueno . You, Zdinarsk, Wainfleet, and Quaritch are the last line of ‘normal’ Recoms, if we can call it that. If we try to extract your genes, and grow a Recom body, it’ll just be a waste of money. It won’t work.”

“Okay.” You inhale sharply, and Selfridge flinches. You forget sometimes in your Recom body that you’re way more intimidating than your old self was. Your dead self. “So what exactly does the ‘natural way’ entail?”

“What are you, a fucking virgin?” Selfridge laughs. Loudly. 

You snarl at him, and he flinches, again, before snickering.

“Jesus, you really are one of them, huh?” Selfridge scoffs. “Try not to fuck the sperm donor too hard when you see him.”

“Selfridge-” You grab his arm as he tries to leave, and with how much smaller Selfridge is, it’s like you’re dangling his body with your sheer strength. “ Motherfucker- tell me for real what’s going on, or I’ll snap your neck.”

“You’ll get shot if you try anything.” Selfridge says, but you can see in his eyes that he’s panicking. “Okay, okay. I’m just fucking with you. They’re just going to extract an egg from your na’vi-ovaries or whatever they’re called. Then the rest, you should know. Embryo production.”

You do know, but you don’t trust him.

It’s not like you have a choice anyways.

/

You were right not to trust him.

Selfridge has to be kidding. You’re sitting in your typical testing room in Bridgehead City. There’s no scientists around, at least not yet. You’ve come in on your day of ovulation, and you’ve been told to wear something comfortable and loose, and to sit around for a bit.

You lean back on the large medical bed, sighing loudly. You’re wearing some regular sweatpants, and a t-shirt that just barely reaches your midriff. Your hair is tied loosely in a low, wavy ponytail. You hope it looks comfortable enough.

You’re assuming an ultrasound, and- the weirdest part- some vaginal probing. You haven’t gotten a chance to play around with your new body yet, at least not like that, and you have no idea what gets you going, or whatever.

You’re sure some lube will be implemented, and then you’ll just lie there and count to ten. You’re just waiting for someone, anyone to come by to do this procedure and get it over with.

The door slides open. You sit up.

Miles Quaritch looks at you, his eyes bright, alert, and his mouth a little agape. His ears stand up for a moment. He’s holding a really old magazine, and a cup- oh no.

You can’t be in this situation with your superior. It’s just so damn awkward.

“Axe?” He shakes his head and just looks flabbergasted as he cackles. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I might as well ask you the same question.” You say flatly, and sigh. “They told me… they were going to do my egg extraction in here?”

“Oh.” Quaritch isn’t exactly a sensitive man, or one with any sort of sensibilities, really, so he just sits on the other medical bed next to yours. After a brief pause, he pulls the curtain, so you’ll at least have a bit of privacy. It’s the most comforting thing he’ll ever do.

“You looking at porn?” You joke, but Quaritch just sighs in response.

“Sooner you shut up, the sooner I’ll be done.” 

You can’t argue with that. It must be weird for him too, to still have to jerk off into a cup so he can be a pseudo sperm-donor for an embryo he’ll never know.

You try not to listen too much to what he’s doing, and you can tell, from how much he’s flipping the pages of some old 2100s era Earth porn- he’s not exactly focused on what he’s supposed to be doing. What the hell was Selfridge and the other scientists thinking? That you were interested in having a voyeur experience?

You know that Bridgehead is really busy, what with all the expansions and all for the new human citizens, so you're guessing this was the only free room. You wonder if Z-Dog and Wainfleet are in the same predicament. Why not at least put you in the same room as Z-Dog, so you have a bit of a girl-to-girl, weird bonding experience? Nothing says best friends like getting your eggs extracted together.

Soon, a little robot of some kind comes by through the door, and gives you what has to be the most embarrassing object. 

A dildo.

Not exactly a dildo, because it's not a toy, but it's a very well crafted, self-lubricating, vibrating egg-extractor. Long, slim, phallic and curved in a way that you know will hit the right spot. You feel yourself flush a little.

The robot tells you to "get yourself ready," with the device, and when you're adequately so, to click a button and let it extend itself into your uterus, where it will harvest the egg for safe keeping. 

You really think this is some kind of practical joke. You would've vastly preferred the cold, clinical nature of a doctor asking you to stay calm as they put you under, and insert something into you. 

But you guess it has to be somewhat pleasurable, so they can get you to do it again at some point if they need to. 

"Those sick bastards." You mutter under your breath, and you hear Quaritch stir a little next to you. 

You decide to just get it over with, and pull down your sweatpants- just down to your knees- and your panties. You lay back against the bed, and fiddle with the device. 

Even when you were on Earth, you usually just messed around with dudes who were on your squad in the Navy. This is kind of new territory for you.

You gently press the tip of the device against yourself, and feel awkward. It just is mechanical, cold, and weird- until it starts vibrating, and emitting some sort of magically warm gel that makes you feel soft, as if your skin is beginning to tingle all over, spreading from in between your thighs, up your stomach, and into your chest. 

That's pretty good. You have to admit that yourself. 

You tentatively push it across your folds, not in just yet, and you feel yourself slicken, wetness pooling around the device- it's a sudden whirlwind of a feeling that has you seeing stars. God, you really have missed this feeling, but it's somehow even more intense in your Na'vi body. 

It begins to vibrate against your clit as you move it up and down in a testing, rudimentary way, and you very softly- just barely, audibly moan.

/

Quaritch's ears stand up, on edge. He's horribly alert of everything you're doing, and there's nothing he can do but listen. 

First, your scent is incredibly strong- intoxicating in a way that makes him sure that this is what Sully felt when he got some local tail. Your arousal has him closing his eyes, and thinking of what he would do if he was just a few feet over- pinning you down and thrusting in. Second, that vibrating sound- he knows what it’s doing, and that makes it all the more tempting to just go over and show you what a real man should feel like.

Still, Quaritch wants to follow the rules just this one time, because he's not used to his Na'vi body, either, and he would rather figure out his whole… situation, down there, before he immediately proceeds into sex. 

But he’s a bastard, too. He always goes headfirst into whatever his instincts tell him to do, and it hasn’t exactly failed him yet. Except when he died, obviously.

He hears you, just very subtly moaning, and his ears perk up as he listens.

Quaritch is too impatient to care. There’s a throbbing in his camo pants now, with no thanks to that shitty old magazine, and he knows- like all men know- what he wants to do to get rid of it.

He lifts the curtain aside, where you’re currently holding that damned toy, as your pants ball up around your knees. You’re half-lying against a pillow, and your baby t-shirt is riding up, just showing off a hint of your breasts. You’re not quite in the throes of passion, not yet, but your mouth is half-open, and your lids are half lidded as you gaze at him, your hand stopping in between your thighs.

Quaritch clenches his jaw. It’s insane how fast his hormones are- pumping through his blood, to where his pants are getting uncomfortably tight. It’s quite a sight, he can’t exactly blame himself for moving forward. 

You, to your credit, don’t draw yourself back. You just stare at him, face turning warm- probably not red, all things considered- and Quaritch just stands in front of you, taking your hand from between your legs.

“This is what they got you using?” He scoffs, pulling at the device, away from your legs. You involuntarily twitch at the movement, and your pussy suddenly feels cold. 

Quaritch tuts at the way you’re shaking a little, how you’re clearly so needy, and he leans in with an eager, almost malicious smile. His body easily towers over your own, and you feel your heart race as he looks down at you- up and down your entire body. 

“Why don’t we do things the old fashioned way?” Quaritch murmurs, a deep rumble in his chest as he does so.

You think you should say no. First of all, you don’t want to get pregnant, and second of all, it seems like Quaritch isn’t exactly being impartial, is he? You know that Earth porn probably did nothing for the guy, but that doesn’t mean you have to be his unwilling participant.

Still, as Quaritch gently nudges his bulge against you, your folds slick against the roughness of the cloth, causing you to inhale unsteadily at the pleasant friction, you realize you’re entirely willing to do this. In fact, all things considered, Quaritch is a hell of a lot more attractive than some of the other Recoms out there.

And it feels more natural than the device, which you were sadly struggling to insert. Lube or not, it was a little too out there for you.

You breathe in, feeling his bulge throb against you. “Okay.”

Quaritch doesn’t take much time to unbuckle his pants and underwear, his dick flopping out as he does. You’re a little amused- it’s proportional to his body, but it’s a lot bigger looking than any of the human dicks you’ve seen. 

It occurs to you that you probably look the same way to him. Tall, lithe body. Impossibly tiny waist. Plump chest and ass. Thick thighs. The proportions are different, but good. 

“Are you laughing at me, soldier?” Quaritch pulls off his tank top, his bare muscles causing your face to warm a little, and he towers over you now. His arms are a lot stronger than yours and he pins you down. 

“What the hell are you gonna do about it, Colonel?” You rile him up a little. Just for fun, since it seems like everything has gone batshit insane today. 

Might as well get some extra anger out of him, so this can count as stress relief, too.

“Well, let’s see.” He uses his hands to spread out your thighs, flattening and pressing them into the mattress, splitting your legs apart. He massages your thighs as he talks. “I guess I’m trying to knock you up. Get you nice and filled up with me.”

It causes a tingle in your lower stomach, watching Quaritch size you up as his hands firmly grasp your thighs. 

He inhales, and- with the practised familiarity of someone who hasn’t done this in a while- pumps his fist over his dick, just to remember the sensation. Quaritch slides his dick against you, causing you to convulse as it snugly fits into your outer folds, the head of his dick meeting where your clit is. There’s a throbbing sensation that seems to flow from him into you- and you swear pre-cum must be leaking from him, or you’ve just gotten a lot more wet.

“Ah- fuck- ” You groan, and Quaritch clearly likes the sound of that, because he slides his dick back and forth a few times. Lubing himself up. 

“You asked for this.” He grins at you, and he pushes your legs really wide this time, lifting them up a little as he enters you. 

Quaritch groans loudly when his dick has fully sheathed itself inside you, and you feel yourself twitching in anticipation, feeling more full than you’ve ever remembered feeling when you were human. He pulls your legs forward roughly, and you feel yourself clench around him as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Quaritch sighs in satisfaction, pressing his forehead against yours. He draws himself back, slowly, his dick slipping out of you sloppily, easily, and then thrusts forward at full speed, immediately filling you, causing you to moan loudly. He begins to thrust, slowly, testing the waters, and with every time he fills you, you feel your walls clench around him, like your body can’t do anything but squeeze him.

Eventually Quaritch works himself to a much more rapid speed- like he has a lot of energy he desperately needs to get out. His skin is slapping against yours as he thrusts, sometimes at an even pace, now a bit more sporadically as he gets lost in the sensation, his taut thighs causing what can only be bruises against your own. He finds that with every thrust, your walls squeeze the head of his dick, causing a delicious throbbing sensation to run through his groin, and he wants to capture that feeling again and again. He finds it insane just how wet and good you feel when he ruts up against you- it’s heightened in a way that makes him never want to let go of you.

His hands make their way towards your waist- your ridiculously tiny waist- and he squeezes, marvels at the way it seems his hands could probably swallow you whole there. He’s alarmed to find out that he wants to kiss you there.

Quaritch tries to distract himself a little. Out of some instinct that he can’t quite place, he leans towards your ear, and nibbles on it with his fang. He didn’t exactly realize how much of an erogenous zone that would be for you- warmth spreads across your jaw and ears and cheeks, and you bite your lip in the absolute cutest way, your ears fluttering up and down, as you moan a little against his jaw. He moves his hands upwards, and pulls up your top, exposing your breasts. He roughly thumbs a nipple, causing you to wriggle around in pleasure, and then decides to latch his mouth onto it, his fangs just teasing and pulling at your nipple until you cry out.

He wants to do this again, and again, until you’re covered in his marks and bruises, all his , so he can claim you as his own woman to breed. Of course, Quaritch isn’t that stupid to actually go through with it- you’re a great soldier in your own right, and you probably don’t want to be owned- he just has this need inside him to absolutely own you in every possible way.

You feel like you’re impossibly hot, your body burning up from your lower regions, all the way to your face, to where Quaritch has bitten you, here and there. You’re feeling a pressure build inside you- and you think Quaritch can feel it too, considering how hard he’s grunting, pushing, and pressing inside you, seeking desperately for that release. 

Your hands make their way around his neck, and you lean in, and kiss him, your parted lips moving against his. You think Quaritch won’t be receptive- he is the coldest person you know- but his tongue swirls into your mouth, spit being swapped between the two of you, and he actually groans into your mouth, it being muffled and all. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, ass, waist, and tits, and he begins to thrust with a little more impact- less sloppy, more intensity- which has you absolutely melting at his touch, wrapping yourself tightly around him.

Some instinct of yours- something that comes with this body, at least- tells you to combine your queue with Quaritch’s, and you do so with shaky hands, your braid swinging over his shoulder, and combining with his as you hold them together. Quaritch doesn’t stop you, but what you feel surprises you.

Of course, there’s an overwhelming sense of lust and sex and arousal and all the things Quaritch is feeling right now, so he can breed you like a strong man would, but there’s also… affection? Attraction, yes, but affection?

You could just be getting confused with everything else that’s in there. But you think it’s there, a feeling of affection for his favourite subordinate, and that’s all you really needed to know. You like him, too. You feel like you’re really seeing him right now.

Quaritch moans against your mouth, and cums inside you, and it’s as if fireworks have gone off inside your brain, his orgasm lighting up yours in the soul bond. You convulse under him, moaning, feeling the waves overtake you as he grips you tightly, the ache of his cock causing you to feel pleasure ebb outwards.  

He slowly pulls out, and watches as cum drips down the sides of your thighs. Quaritch is kind of impressed- he did it, like he said he would- and he lays down next to you, sighing in contentment.

“So. Are we keeping it?” Quaritch teases, and you give him a wayward look.

“ It is not gonna be a baby, dumbass.” You roll your eyes, but something about Quaritch now makes you want to snuggle against him, his scent all warm and familiar, and so you do. You let your face lie flatly against his chest. You feel like it’s the bond- it still feels kind of present between you two.

“Woo, boy, if you don’t know how babies are made, I’m not sure I should have done you like that.” Quaritch laughs, and you sigh.

“Goddamnit.” You shake your head. “Selfridge said that our reproductive material are meant to make the next Recoms. They’re just gonna take the embryo, and use it’s cells to make a blank slate for the next Avatar or Recom or whatever it is. We just… took out the middle man for them.”

Quaritch isn’t too caught off guard by this. He’s used to all the science fuckery that the RDA does, and he decides to just let it go.

“Tell you what, Axe.” He uses your name, for real, as his hand combs through your hair. “Come by my quarters later, and we can do it again and again . However many times until you’ve got a baby in there.”

You still don’t want to be pregnant, and you’re pretty sure the colonel knows that- he’s just got some crazy impregnation fetish or creampie kink going on- but you’re kind of obsessed with him now, and the way that he keeps looking at you.

“I’m cool with that.” You nod, and if Quaritch was an honest man, he would say that he felt completely enamoured with that response.

You snuggle up next to him, not really caring that this is a medical lab, or that you should head back to your quarters. You’re tired, and you fall asleep fairly easily.

/

Quaritch doesn’t fall asleep. He feels crazy energized. You’ve given him a high unlike any other- and he’s in a particularly good mood because he feels… some way that he can’t articulate about you.

After you’re out cold, he puts his pants back on- and good thing he does, because Selfridge comes in without knocking. 

Selfridge looks from you, completely naked, and snoring under some blankets, to Quaritch, who’s suspiciously shirtless and stretching his legs out.

He looks aghast. “I didn’t think you two would really-”

“Really?” Quaritch leans over him. “Seems to me like you did it on purpose. Putting us in the same room and all.” 

Selfridge splutters over Quaritch’s accusation, and simply states that he needs the embryo, exiting after handing another extraction advice to him.

Quaritch jostles you awake. “Axe. You gotta do something and then we got to leave, alright?”

You nod sleepily, and he hands you the extraction advice. You rub your eyes and then realize what you’re holding.

“Turn around?”

Quaritch gives you a “ really? ” sort of look, but you’re serious, so he raises his hands jokingly and complies.

It’s a really quick one minute procedure. The little device crawls up inside you in an almost-undetectable fashion, and then after a moment, it pops back out, with a symbol indicating that it has successfully taken the embryo out, and put it inside it’s storage section. It’s weird- you know you were told to come here when you were ovulating, but it’s like a pregnancy test. It confirms that you and Quaritch kind of made a potential baby… or something that will go on to become genetic material for a blank slate.

You’re too tired to care. You put your clothes back on, and yawn, feeling your eyes fluttering. Quaritch picks you up, bridal style, as you snuggle your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. He exits the room, sidestepping around different human RDA members, and Recoms and Avatars who are staring the two of you down. Looks of confusion among all of them.

Quaritch doesn’t give a fuck. He steps into an elevator, and it pulls the two of you up towards the higher floors of the skyscraper.

You know this will be gossip for all the other RDA members, but for now you can just sleep, completely satisfied.

[pragerswoman]

Hi again, I was wondering if I could make a request for something spicy for Lyle/Mansk, but mixed in with some sweetness too?

Sweethearts

Pairings: mansk x y/n and Lyle x y/n

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, NSFW

A/n: hey lovely hope you enjoy this ☺️and for everyone feel free to request anything you like 😄

Lyle: Lyle was a man of meticulous habits. He approached every task with a methodical precision that was both calming and a bit unnerving to those around him. His bunk, a minimalist haven in the bustling heart of bridgehead, reflected this aspect of his personality. The white walls were bare of any artwork, the floor a gleaming expanse of hardwood unblemished by rugs or scattered shoes. Only a single plant, a cactus, adorned the windowsill, thriving on neglect.

One evening, as the city outside grew quiet, Lyle found himself in a moment of passion with his girlfriend, y/n. The air had the scent of their desire, a heady mix of sweat and the faint floral scent of her perfume. Despite his usual reserve, Lyle allowed himself to be swept away by the moment, his hands tracing the curves of her body with a gentle urgency that spoke volumes of his love for her.

Their movements were a dance of intimacy, each touch a silent declaration of their feelings. The soft whispers of their breaths filled the air, a symphony of love that resonated through the otherwise silent apartment. Y/n's eyes were closed, her face a picture of pure bliss as she lost herself in the sensations Lyle's touch brought forth.

With each hard thrust, Lyle whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his voice a soothing murmur that tickled the sensitive skin of her neck. He spoke of her beauty, of the warmth she brought into his life, of the way she made him feel alive. His words were a gentle caress, a tender counterpoint to the passionate urgency of their bodies.

As they reached the peak of their shared ecstasy, their bodies tensed in unison. Lyle's grip tightened around her hips, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt himself release inside her. At the same moment, y/n's legs wrapped around him, her nails digging into his back as she reached her own climax. They both let out cries of pleasure, the sound mingling and echoing off the bare walls of the room.

Without a word, he stood up, his muscles rippling in the dim light of the bedroom. He walked to the en suite bathroom, the cold tiles a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed. The sound of running water filled the room as he drew a bubble bath for her, carefully selecting the temperature and the right amount of bubbles. The scent of lavender filled the air, a soothing balm to the passion that had just unfolded.

Lifting her with a gentle strength, he carried her to the tub, her limbs limp with satisfaction. Lowering her into the warm embrace of the water, he watched the bubbles envelop her, the tension of the day slipping away with every inch of skin that disappeared beneath the frothy surface.

Mansk: Mansk lay sprawled across the sofa, the soft fabric hugging his weary body. The room was bathed in a gentle glow from the setting sun outside, the shadows dancing on the walls to the rhythm of a silent TV. His eyes were glued to the flickering screen, but his mind was a million miles away, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts.

Y/n, his girlfriend, entered the room with the grace of a gazelle. She moved with a purpose that was both tantalizing and soothing. Dressed in nothing but a sheer robe that barely contained her ample curves, she was the embodiment of sensuality. She saw the tension in Mansk's shoulders, the tightness in his jaw, and she knew what he needed.

With a knowing smile, she sauntered over to him, her hips swaying gently. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the thump of his heart beneath her palm. "You look like you could use some relaxation," she purred, her voice a siren's call to his weary soul. Mansk looked up, his eyes finding hers, and she could see the exhaustion in them. Without waiting for a response, she began to unbuckle his pants, her movements slow and deliberate. He didn't resist, his body already responding to her touch.

Her hand found his cock, already hard and eager for her. She stroked it gently, feeling it pulse in her hand. Mansk's breath hitched, his eyes closing as he leaned back into the cushions. Y/n straddled him, her legs on either side of his hips, the warmth of her bare skin against his sending waves of desire through his body. She leaned in, her breath hot on his neck as she whispered, "Let me take care of you." Then, with a swift motion, she pulled her robe aside, revealing her wet pussy, already glistening with anticipation.

Mansk's eyes shot open, his gaze fixed on the beauty above him. Y/n positioned herself, the tip of his cock brushing against her folds. She took a deep breath, her eyes locked with his, and then she slid down, taking him inch by inch into her warm, welcoming depths. They both groaned in unison as she settled onto him, her walls clenching around his shaft. She began to rock her hips, setting a slow, steady rhythm that made Mansk's eyes roll back in his head.

Her movements grew more deliberate, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she felt him fill her completely. Each stroke was a sweet caress, a gentle claiming that resonated deep within her core. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands guiding her, supporting her as she found her rhythm. His touch was tender, his grip firm but never overpowering.

But despite her best efforts, y/n's climax remained just out of reach. She panted and whimpered, her movements growing erratic as she chased the elusive high. Mansk felt her desperation, her legs quivering around his hips. With a gentle smile, he reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away a bead of sweat that had formed on her skin. "Let me," he murmured, his voice a warm rumble that vibrated through her.

Y/n nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as Mansk took control. He began to thrust into her, matching the tempo she had set, but with a newfound intensity. His strokes grew longer, deeper, each one hitting the spot that made her toes curl. He was sweet and gentle, yet firm, his love for her apparent in every movement. She felt cherished, her body responding to his touch as if it had been waiting for it all along.

Mansk felt her tension build, the muscles in her thighs tightening around him, her nails digging into his back. He knew she was close, and he reveled in the power of bringing her pleasure. He increased his pace, his strokes becoming more urgent, each one designed to push her closer to the edge. He could feel her pussy pulsing around him, her breaths coming in ragged pants against his cheek.

With a soft growl, he reached between them, his thumb finding her clit. He began to rub it in tight circles, feeling it swell under his touch. Y/n's eyes flew open, and she threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream as he continued to pound into her. He watched as she reached the peak, her body convulsing in a beautiful display of ecstasy. Her walls clamped down around him, and she came hard, her orgasm ripping through her like a storm.

With a final, desperate thrust, Mansk came, his entire body seizing with the force of his release. He filled her completely, his warm seed spilling into her depths. He held her tightly, his cock still buried deep inside her, their hearts pounding together in a shared symphony of love and passion.

As the aftershocks of their climaxes subsided, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, his chest heaving. He could feel her heart racing, a frantic drumbeat against his skin. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, his movements tender and loving. The world outside the bubble of their embrace ceased to exist as they shared this moment of pure, unfiltered connection.