#na'vi quaritch

[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.”

[tears-of-moonlight]

Quaritch coming back from the hell to throw hands with a dad, his wife and their four kids

[choclodox]

Avatar: The Way of Water - Deleted Scenes Pt. 🥊 ⁣⁣

⁣⁣

Cupcake still owes him a knuckle sandwich⁣⁣

[sullyfortress]

[mintlilien]

I would let him hit😰

[tsukioreo]

Quaritch’s dramatic portrait

Had to redo his shading twice but absolutely love the result !! He is very pretty ! 💙

[teyamloving12]

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫l

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Miles Quaritch x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content, large age gap, cursing, mentions of violence, implied sex, dub-con, abuse of authority, unprotected sex, etc.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: He was always watching. He saw you grow up into who you are now and only chuckled at the snarky remarks you made towards him.

He was vigilant, at least that what his mother would say when he was young. He was always wary of the people and things that dared to breathe around him. Maybe that is why he was held in high regard-- no, people didnt show him any regard or esteem. They were not at ease as a consequence of his barbaric tactics. The excruciating demands from his mouth when he bellowed commands to the inferior was immeasurable.

"𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞."

His lean muscles become tense whilst he caught a glimpse of the imbeciles that bowed before him. The little bastard of one of the recombinants would only amuse herself with the teddy bear that had a broken button as its eye in the corner of the meeting room.

His eyes would turn to then look at the little girl and she would express tenderness. A smile meritorious of millions, a piece of treasure that would glisten when polished. She was the ripest fruit upon the tree.

He softened for once in his life but he regained his composure and scoffed at the little, joyful creature. She is pathetic like her father. Always smiling and galavanting about the place. "No wonder Sully killed him", he said in a low-pitched tone. The fool left his little bastard after conjuring her up in her mother's womb. Is that what a man is? What whore of a woman opens her legs during war?

From a mere babe to a woman, he watched with keen eyes as you matured. He knew you despised his existence. He knew you picked up your father's soft and wimpish heart and mind. He felt a glare full of disgust from across the room. He only chuckled. Inadequate. You were pathetic, however, how could he resist that malevolent glow in your eyes?

The meeting room was packed like sardines and as loud as a clap of thunder. Shouts and cries of annoyance and protest echoed across the meeting room. Quaritch tilted his head at the sight of his team at each other's throats. "Jake Sully is a traitor that must be killed immediately", he roared. His ear-splitting voice boomed across the room.

"I beg to disagree", _____ said with an iron hand. "You come to their home demanding control and honor.", ______ started. Not a hint of apprehensiveness came from your tone. "This is their home and you came to disrespect it, therefore Sully chose the right path to leave rather than to stay.", _____ continued, fearing not the consequences that came after. "You got your mother's smart mouth huh?", Quaritch chuckled.

Though his hair was gray with white streaks on both sides of his head, his body was still muscular and strong. He had the ability to strike fear in anyone that he came across, young or old. "You are a fool to think that the Navi will give up their home for you. How confident do you have to be?", ______ clapped back at his supposingly insult.

No one in this world had the capability to wipe a petulant expression from his face. The Colonel's grin fell from his face. His eyes narrowed at the woman before him. "A fool, did you just call me a fool, little girl?", he focused your attention on his last two words. "I'm not your little girl.", _______ uttered. He then had the nerve to turn his back to you showing that your words had no significance to him.

He didn't care. He never did.

The little bastard that would play with her teddy bear has finally grown up. So grown, she had the effrontery and impudence to disrespect him. Quaritch faced you but his face was not of stone, almost as if he was laughing at your remark.

"When your whore of a mother decided to spread her legs in the middle of war, I gave her pity. She was lucky enough to give birth and she was lucky that I had not killed you.", he mouthed. You heard a few giggles from the recombinants in the room." This is the same place where you were raised, where you are fed. This is where you were grown and you will remember who you're talking to, little girl", he finished, emphasizing the last two words once more.

"Colonel or not, you will not dare to insult my mother like that.", _______ retorted. "The dead has no power, she's dead and so is your daddy. What will they do?", Quaritch snickered. The recombinants made comments on how your mother would have attacked him spiritually, earning a chuckle from Quaritch.

"Leave", he stated. The recombinants began to leave, confused by the sudden command. "You, stay", Quaritch demanded. You glared at the disgusting man that stood tall before you. "What do you want?", ______ mumbled. Quaritch grabbed you by your chin. "Do you hate me?", he asked with a smirk. After a moment of silence, your eyes met his. "More than ever", I responded. He scoffed at your remark. It was not what he had expected.

Out of rage and frustration, he pushed you back. Your figure collided with the edge of the meeting table causing immense, nerve-wrecking pain. "What the fuck is wrong with you?", ______ yelled, holding your side. "It's funny.", he deadpanned. "Funny how I wasted my resources on a bitch who claims she hates me.", He said, walking towards you. "Your glares won't kill me.", he added

Quaritch grabbed you by the nape of your neck. You attempted to defend yourself by slapping him across his face. He threw you on the meeting table with ease. Your breath hitched as you felt your back make contact with the stern, glass table. "You will learn that ungratefulness and disobedience come with a price.", he declared. Your glares were vicious until you heard it.

The sound of his belt buckle being undone...

Your heart dropped. "No", _____said, denying his advances. "You're still denying me, little girl", he cringed at your refusal. "You are abusing the authority that you have.", ______ exclaimed in fright. "Scream. Tell them. Tell them how you hate me.", Quaritch snickered. Tears streamed down your face, stopping at you chin. "You and I both know that this room is soundproof. They won't hear you", he whispered the last sentence.

The worst happened. You closed your eyes, praying to God in your head. You hoped you were just dreaming. Unfortunately, you were wide awake, living in a nightmare he had created. He towered over your frozen figure. "You had so much mouth just now.", Quaritch smirked. "Sometimes that nasty ass attitude hides your pretty face", he added. You closed your eyes, refusing to look at his bulging member.

The tip was rubbing against the soaked spot on your panties. Your head was spinning. On the verge to faint, Quaritch began to speak up. "Why are you wet if you hate me?". His forehead was dripping in sweat. His swollen cock was in his fist whilst he teased at the tip, spreading his precum on your underwear. Quaritch thought about you. He thought of how he would shot what makes him feel heavenly. He knew you learned fast and would care for him like he wanted.

"Do you still hate me?", he asked again. His cock twitched as he slid your panties aside revealing a soaked slit. Your eyes fluttered open instantly. He attempted to push him away but he was clearly stronger. The veins on his cock bulged like a beast. It was hungry and ready to strike. "I absolutely despise yo-ahhh", you were met with his cock half way inside yet you felt full.

He groaned. "Fuck. Should've done this earlier.", he muttered under his breath. Your pussy was squeezing him, tight enough to cut off blood flow to his lower body or maybe he was just too big. "Take it out!", you exclaimed throwing punches at his chiseled torso. Your command was a clearly a joke. He trailed his fingers to your clit and places them into your face to show you the truth. Your body wants it. It was obvious.

"Admit it little girl, you always wanted it", he declared. Did you? Did you really want it? "I-", you were caught up in your words and thoughts. You hated him, he was unjust and cruel. So why is your body betraying you at this moment?

“f-fuck—” Quaritch breathed, and his voice lets out a shaky call of your name. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he groaned. Quaritch bit his lip, fighting back a moan as he pushed himself slowly into you even more. Your back arched as you let out a shaky moan.

He grabbed your hips as he thrusted inside you with no mercy. “are you mine?”, Quaritch asks and the rough, deep tone is such a turn on for you. You hated yourself for moaning like a common slut for him, your colonel. The one you hated all your life.

“Don’t cover your mouth. No one can hear you. And even if they could, who do you think would help you, hmm?” Quaritch said. "I-I don't know" ______ whimpered. He quickened his actions further. You could feel your orgasm building deep within your core.

A lustful feeling, taking over every last rational thought your brain had left to offer. "P-please slow down." ______ begged. You whined in response, sparks of pleasure shooting from your dampened core. The unbearable sound of squelching filled the space around you. A small moan escaped from your lips.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t. But as the pleasure became so unbearable you became unsure. You felt yourself clench down on Quaritch's hard, throbbing cock. Your orgasm overtook your shaking body, ripples of pleasure coursed through you. You cried out from the aching pleasure. 

Although he hadn't finished, he pulled out. He stared at the face you had. He fucked you dumb. Now you will know your place. "Do you hate me?", he asked with a smirk. "Never~", you moaned, your pussy still sensitive from his cock.

Good little girl.

[whxre-bxby]

“Colonel’s Orders” 

(oh to be manhandled by Mansk like Tsireya)

Smut with Mansk, Miles, and Lyle

Summary: Quaritch gathers everyone outside for a new type of training session. The recom team don’t know what’s about to happen except for Miles and Lyle. This lesson is meant to increase the team’s hunting skills, however, you and Z-Dog are excluded. We have to pretend to be the prey first, which we think isn’t fair. Eventually, we are persuaded and have a head start before being hunted. 

Warnings: HEAVY SMUT, a little Angst?, predator and prey kink, NON-CON SEX, bad language, tiny bit of voyeurism, breeding kink, degrading 

Word Count: 6803

Masterlist

Colonel's Orders Version 2.0

I was in the break room, getting a drink from the fridge when Lopez walked past, greeting me. 

“Outside in 10. We have training.” he says, about to leave. 

“What? But we finished for today.” I reply and he turns back. 

“Colonel’s orders. Outside in 10, dressed appropriately for training.” he repeated before walking away. I just stare into nothingness for a while, wondering why we suddenly have to gather again when we just ended less than 2 hours ago. It’s not like I could do anything about it so I put the cold drink back and went to my room to go get dressed in Cammie pants and a tank top. 

While leaving my room and walking down the hallway, I met Zdinarsk. She smiled, nodding to me. 

“Do you know what this is about?” I ask and she shakes her head no, shrugging. 

“Maybe the Colonel has some announcement.” 

“Why outside though?” I say, asking myself more than her. She scoffs, wearing the same things I’m wearing and we walk out onto the large concrete jet runway. The sun is beaming down strongly and the warmth of Pandora hits our skin. 

Quite a bit away, we see most of the recom-team already gathered. The Colonel, Lyle, Mansk, Prager, Lopez, Ja, Brown, and Fike are outside, all standing around each other, talking. 

Walker is busy with testing tools in the lab along with Warren and Zhang.

We walk next to each other and I squint, having to look at the ground because the sun was too bright. The wind caressed my face and made my hair flow. It made my hair flow… I forgot to tie it up. Oh no. 

Quaritch got angry about that once, I hoped he wouldn’t mind me running back before we started. 

“Finally, the ladies have decided to show up.” Quaritch loudly announces, grinning while his hands rest on his vest. 

I tilt my head confused. 

“Are we late?” I ask Z-Dog confused,  who is already checking her watch. She shakes her head. 

“We’re two minutes early.” she replies in a sassy tone but still keeping it respectful with our superior. 

“Could have been another two minutes earlier.” he says, before fully turning around to face us. We choose wisely to not reply or fire any comment back. It could cause problems. He seems to be pleased with our silence. 

“Y/N, hope that ponytail ain’t too tight.” Lyle chuckles, noticing my open hair. I glare at him, fully aware of my mistake. I almost always have to have my hair tied back, so it's rare anyone sees me like this. 

I glance at Quaritch who is looking at my hair. 

“I can run back and get it, sir.” I say, taking a step back to be ready to go. 

“That won’t be necessary.” He calmly states, looking from my hair to my eyes, before speaking to the group. 

“You won’t be needing it now. In fact, I think I prefer it like that.” he smirks, and I hear a few chuckles from the men. Z-Dog is just as confused as me. 

“Alright squad, today’s… second session will be a bit different from what we did this mornin’. “ the Colonel starts announcing and everyone quiets down. I quickly scan the team, and notice Lyle grinning to himself. As if he knew about something. Maybe this was some sort of surprise. 

“I discussed this matter with, Corporal Wainfleet here. We decided that this team needs less training as humans and more training as Na’vi. “ he continues. So Lyle does know what’s going on. I glance between him and the Colonel, wondering what they had planned. Maybe we would finally get to train our banshees today. 

Lyle looks up at me and Z-Dog with a shit-eating grin on his face. I exchange judgemental looks with her. We wanted to know why we were dragged out here. 

“If we want to find Sully, we need to be able to hunt Na’vi. I mean hunt like them and hunt them.” he says, his eyes roaming over all his soldiers, to make sure we understand and are listening.

“Which is exactly what we are going to do today.” 

I raise my eyebrows. We were going to look for and hunt down Na’vi people? I didn’t know whether I was excited or terrified. Lyle is grinning again and looking at his buddies. They don’t seem to know all he knows and he signals to them that they’ll know in a second. Mansk is nodding along to what Quaritch says, staying serious while Lyle is acting like a teenager about to do something stupid. Maybe that is an exaggeration. He is standing still, keeping quiet and listening, but his grin is irritating me. 

It doesn’t seem like a good sign. 

“We’re just gonna go into the jungle and find some more blue freaks?” Fike asks, and Quaritch is now grinning too. 

“Not exactly.” Lyle intervenes. “We’re going to practise that here, between us. We’re the only Na’vi for miles.” 

“How?” I blurt out. To be fair, it what his fault for not saying all the information at once. 

“Glad you asked, buttercup.” he smiles, turning to me. I frown at the nickname, straining my ears back. He does that often, to embarrass me in front of others I think, but it’s getting old.

“We’re gonna need two people to be the so-called prey.” he explains, while walking towards me. “The rest of the team will hunt them. As simple as that.” 

“Who’s gonna be the prey? I don’t think anyone wants to volunteer for that one.”  Prager announces after a minute and Lyle chuckles. 

“We’ve already got our prey.” Lyle says, returning his gaze to me and looking me deep in the eyes. 

Finally, I catch on to what he’s saying. I’m about to fire some comments back when Lyle is pulled away by Quaritch. 

“Prey, my ass.” I snap at him, not angry just pissed off. 

I glance between them and I hear Zdinarsk huff beside me in disbelief. 

“No fucking way.” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Mansk and the others understand now too. I hear a few chuckles from them, while I just stare at Lyle and Miles in disbelief. 

“We’re not doing that.” I say, backing up Z-Dog. 

“That’s an order.” Quaritch says, smirking amusedly. 

“Why us? Why can’t one of them go?” I complain. 

“That’s an order.” he repeats himself, underlining every word. I frown, letting my ears droop as my tail flicks behind me in irritation. 

My silence is an answer to him and he returns to explaining. 

“Now, our lovely ladies will get a five-minute head start. Then-”

“Five?!” I accidentally interrupt and he looks at me annoyed. 

“I can make that three.” he threatens and I look down, not saying a word again. He turns back. 

“Using the stronger senses we have in our bodies, it shouldn’t be too hard.” the Colonel continues to explain. The recom-men exchange glances and smirks, some nodding while others nudge each other’s arms. They seem happy. 

Z-Dog and I exchange the hundredth glance for today, not seeming to believe what is happening. 

“Pfft… stronger senses.” I mutter under my breath. I’ll make sure they won’t find me. 

“That’s right Y/N,” the Colonel said. How did he even hear that?

“Some scientists told me that Na’vi get cycles. So-called ‘heat cycles’...” 

My eyes widen. I just keep hearing more and more bad news. 

“And apparently we are approaching our one soon…” Quaritch continues. Wainfleet is still grinning like the bitch he is. 

Everyone is surprised and listening. 

“Durin’ these times, it’s easier for us…” he points at the recom-men who are all gathered together, “to be able to pick up your pretty scent.” he turns to Z-Dog and me, smirking. Zdinarsk is very clearly not impressed, yet she seems almost unfazed by his words. 

On the other hand, I am mindblown and I don’t know whether I’m pissed at Lyle, Miles or the scientists who summoned me into this body. I still can’t decide whether this experience is a curse or a blessing. 

“To make it a tad easier for us, no shirts allowed.” Lyle added and Quaritch didn’t seem to disagree. That was it, that was my final straw. I couldn’t believe it. I snort, clutching my face in my palms while Z-Dog just chews her gum and watches my reaction. 

“This is bullshit.” I say, letting my hands slide from my face. The entire team’s attention is focused on me and I don’t know how to feel about it. 

Quaritch raises his eyebrow at me as if challenging me to continue my petty behaviour. I fall in line under his gaze. 

Z-Dog sighs beside me before peeling her tank top off. I sigh as well. If she’s doing it, I must too. I turn away a little, facing the open runway and pull my tank top over my head, leaving me in a sports bra and cammies, like Z. 

I turn around, arms crossed in front of my chest, holding the shirt. The team was oddly silent. 

It wasn’t the first time we’d been in a sports bra in front of them. During the hot days or really intense training lessons, we would just wear them while the others didn’t even wear a shirt. But it still seemed different because this time it had a different meaning. But training is training, what can one do?

“Drink before you go.” Quaritch ordered, his own arms crossed over his chest, seeming pleased that we followed orders without complaining too much anymore. 

After all, he was our superior, and responsible for us, so making us drink was not uncommon. 

Lyle handed us each a water bottle, from which we took a few gulps. Some water trickled down the side of my mouth and on my chest but I didn’t care. It was too warm to mind that. 

I handed it back to him, sending him a glare just to let him know that I was pissed. 

“Alright, you’re ready.” Quaritch said, but I wasn’t finished just yet. 

“What if I just don’t run?” I ask, more out of curiosity than sass. 

He takes an intimidating step forward. “Then I’ll deal with you right here, in front of everyone.” He stated firmly, staring me down. I looked away again, nodding a little before turning away and standing next to Z-Dog again who was already facing where we have to go. 

I didn’t quite know what he meant by that, I could only assume. And I assumed that he would do something I would not want others to see. 

“Alright, you see the entry in the fence there? That’s where the forest starts. You go through there and then wherever you want after that. We’ll find you.” Quaritch says, pointing to the gate with the opening, separating the forest from the concrete. I huff annoyed facing the direction we were supposed to run in after throwing my shirt at Lyle’s face. It wasn’t far until the fence. I wondered if I would encounter any native creatures, thinking that perhaps I should be armed but then again, none of them ever get close to here. 

“Happy runnin’ ladies. Time starts…now.” Quaritch says and once he finishes Z-Dog is walking away already. I jog up to her and we walk more or less side by side for a while. Then we hear someone yell that if we don’t start running now they will shorten the time. I groan out in frustration, letting my head fall back before picking up my pace and running to the fence, close behind Zdinarsk. 

Before we know it we reach the fence where we slow down and look around before walking into the forest. 

“Is it smart to stick together?” she asks me and I think about it. 

“Probably not. If we’re working as a team here, it makes sense for us to split. That way if they all find one of us, the other is still fine.” I reply, not quite knowing what to expect. 

“Let’s kick their ass. I say we continue for an hour, then we return home.” she says and smiles to herself.

“Heh- imagine if we just ditch the mission while they are still out here.” I chuckle and she joins. 

Silence. 

“We’d get in so much tr-” 

“Yeah, Colonel would kill us.” She agrees. 

We walk in silence again, thinking about what he would be yelling. Then I check my watch. 

“They’ll come after us in a minute. We should split now.” I say and she nods in agreement.

“Aight. See ya’.” we bump our fists together before I take a right turn and she goes left. The next time I look over my shoulder, I don’t see her anymore. 

I look at the time again. They must have already left the base. Probably just arrived in the forest right now. 

I push my way through leaves, my ears flicking around, picking up small noises. The forest felt very abandoned. There was almost no noise. 

I went deeper. If they would really follow my scent, I couldn’t have it going in a straight line. I let my feet carry me faster again and I made occasional turns while making sure I was putting enough distance between the base and me. With the new body came a new and better sense of coordination. If I would continue wandering for the next few hours, I still wouldn’t get lost. 

I looked at my watch again only to see it had frozen. ‘Great’ I thought. 

What feels like at least 2 hours have passed and my legs were getting a little tired. The sun was still up, it was only afternoon. I gave up on running. It seemed to me as though they had overestimated their capabilities and would not find me. Maybe I should start turning back? 

I stop for a while, standing completely still, trying to pick up anything. Any noise, sight or smell. But there was nothing. While standing I became aware of an odd feeling in my groin. 

I curse myself. The fucking heat cycle. It didn’t hit me, it slowly developed. I had felt something similar this morning, but it was growing now. 

“My scent is probably stronger now.” I whisper to myself. 

Once the 5 long minutes were over, Mansk had made it his priority to find you. While your aroused scent wasn’t present, your normal one was and that alone drove Mansk feral. He wanted to be the first one to get you. 

Since your scent had a serious effect on Mansk, he was able to recognise it easier and he left the team, going out to hunt you down on his own. 

I keep walking until I feel a different type of strange feeling. I look around myself and stay quiet, but no one is there. Yet, strangely I no longer feel like I am alone. As if I had some company that I didn’t know about. If my feeling was right, it was either a creature, Z-Dog or one of the soldiers. 

Then again, Z went the other way and forest animals don’t come so close to the human’s area, so chances were one of the soldiers was close. I continued walking, looking in front for a while then turning my head, to glance behind me while still moving. I turn around and walk a few steps backwards, not changing the direction I was going in, trying to find any movement between the leaves I just walked by. 

That’s when it happened. Suddenly I felt arms snake around me from behind. One held my arms down and wrapped around my waist while the other pressed someone’s hand over my mouth. I screamed from the sudden surprise but the short loud noise was muffled by the palm. It all happened so quickly, my mind was struggling to keep up. 

I was pulled against someone’s body and I could immediately tell it was one of the recom’s because of the gear they were wearing. They held me close to their body, preventing my struggle and walking a few steps back. 

“Shhh…” the voice cooed. “Stop strugglin’.”

My eyes opened wider. It was Mansk holding me. I let my eyes dart around, trying to find the others but it seemed as though he was alone. I calmed down, no longer trying to escape his grasp. 

Mansk let his hand slip from my mouth but surprised me when he wrapped it around my neck, forcing my gaze up a little. 

“Great, you- got me.” I say, attempting to get out of his embrace. “You can let me go now.” 

“That ain’t happenin’.” he replied, tightening his arm around me. I whine in protest, letting my head drop a little. 

“Can’t let you escape now.” he said and from the way the words left his mouth, I could tell he was grinning. 

His presence affected me. Smelling his musk and being pressed up against his chest had my heart racing and I knew it wouldn’t be long until he would pick up on that.  

“I won’t run away, my leg hurts.” I lie to him, knowing I need to distance myself from him as fast as possible. I wasn’t sure what would happen if he would know what was going on. Quaritch told us all about the heat cycles but I don’t think anyone was expecting it to start today. Maybe it was the fact that this predator-prey game had me feeling some type of way.

To my surprise, he lets me go but doesn’t step away. His arms just fall to his sides and he is examining my every movement. I turn around to properly face him. 

Mansk and I were never really close. The whole team was close but we were never more than that. But it wasn’t awkward between us. Some other atmosphere was created. I would have said I felt sexual tension but that could be just because slowly I was becoming painfully aroused and he happened to be really attractive. 

I took a few steps back, watching him as he watched me.  Something about the way he looked at me had me thinking that he seemed frustrated. Perhaps it was the way his tail was flicking around behind him. 

But without further ado, I needed to save myself and my ego. I was too prideful to give in to my feelings just yet. I couldn’t make it that easy.  

My feet took off, back in the direction I came from and away from Mansk. 

Of course, he was predicting a reaction like that so without hesitation, he was sprinting after me. 

In the next few seconds, I was tackled to the ground, letting out an even louder scream this time. Mansk must have thrown himself at me and I was planted basically face-first in the ground. I was laying stretched out and I felt Mansk on top of me. 

“Nice try.” he chuckled, pulling my arms behind my back. I groaned in frustration, knowing I had no chance to escape him and that time was running out. Mansk cuffed both my wrists together with the elastic red handcuffs we carried around. 

“Really? Handcuffs?” I ask, trying to ridicule his actions as my last resort. 

He turns me over so that my back is laying on the floor and I’m looking up at him. He’s on his knees, with each leg on either side of my thighs. 

“I caught you, sweetheart. I ain’t lettin’ you out’ my sight.” he said, pushing his shades up on his head to get a better look at me. 

I felt how my cheeks heated up and the feeling between my legs was now undeniable. 

“Look at you, all pretty and flustered.” he smirks. His hand cups the side of my face and he runs his thumb over my cheek. 

The sight and the scent of you have him feeling extremely fucking turned on. The whole hunt had him getting worked up and he had been fighting the urge to relieve himself. But it wasn’t something he could do himself. He felt the urge to breed. 

Seeing you under him like this, experiencing your own heat problems had Mansk lose control. Once he picked up the scent of you in the forest, most of his common sense was gone. His mind could only focus on finding you. Now he succeeded and he wasn’t able to hold back. 

Without another thought, he flipped me back around. His hands traced my body, running down my back and back up my hips. He fumbled with my bra, just touching the fabric before he attached his hands to my pants and started tugging them down. With his strength, the belt was useless. He removed my panties in the process too because his fingertips hooked under both waistbands.

Mansk pulled my hips up while my upper body remained pressed into the ground. He was positioned right behind me and I heard him groan a little once my pants were removed. My heavy breathing was accompanied by his. 

His hand wrapped around my nervously swishing tail and he moved it out of the way, while his own tail was revealing his own frustrations. 

Mansk’s urges were getting stronger the more he would try to solve them. He sense how badly I was suffering the heat as well and were both just desperate to solve our problems. I needed him so badly and vice versa. 

I heard him undo his belt hastily while wrapping his other hand around my braid to make sure I can’t escape. Soon enough he let out a sigh of relief and I felt him press his bare crotch against mine. I felt his throbbing dick, pressed up against my pulsating core. The warmth of our bodies was mixing and he couldn’t take it anymore. Mansk was quite literally panting now, his big hands gripping my hips. 

I felt him pull away before moving his hips forward. His dick was perfectly lined up with where I craved him the most and he thrust forward into me, burying himself as deep into me as he could. 

I moaned, arching my back and pressing myself into him more while he bit his lip, letting his head drop back in relief. 

“F-fuck babygirl… so tight f’er me.” he groaned, before pulling out and repeating his actions. 

Mansk then leaned forward, holding himself up with his hands firmly splayed out on the ground on either side of my body. He tucked my waist right below his stomach and continued bucking his hips up into mine. My mind was getting cloudy and I whimpered, the pleasure saving me from the uneasy cravings I felt before. Mansk started to ruthlessly fuck me from behind, but the more he did the more he realised how deep and strong his need to breed was. He needed you to stay in your place beneath him and take it. 

All chances of you leaving were eliminated when he wrapped both his arms around your tilted waist, hugging you while continuing to rut into my almost squelching pussy. My body's noises ignited a fire in him. The harder he fucked me, the louder the noise of skin slapping filled my ears. His head was lolling down and he quickly undid my handcuffs with one swift move. He needed to be closer to me. I pushed my upper body up from the ground, being rocked forward by his thrusts on all fours.

Mansk immediately pressed his chest against my back, one toned arm holding him up while the other hugged me, bringing my entire body closer to him. 

“Mansk-” I whine, feeling the building-up pressure deep inside me. It felt like too much but it was so good. 

“Take it.” he growled into my ear. His fangs were bared and his ears strained back as both of us had our primal sides take over our bodies. Mansk’s head rested in the crook of my neck, his panting breath heating up my already warm skin. 

I started to clench around him, feeling my orgasm approach sooner than expected. He felt the way I squeezed him and it stimulated him more, so he sped up his pace a little. My body was tensing and with a few more thrusts, I came undone around Mansk. 

My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I let out what sounded like another scream, followed by a string of moans calling out Mansk’s name. 

He relentlessly pounded into me and then had his climax take over his body. Mansk was drowning in pleasure and was only acting on his instincts. He needed to keep you in place so he tightened his grip around your body, caging you in, bit down between your shoulder and neck, stilled his hips and released his load deep into you. 

His tense muscles soon relaxed and his arm dropped to the ground to ensure he wouldn’t fall. My legs were shaking and both of us were trying to regain our breath. 

The mating bite he gave me didn’t even hurt in the moment. Once he released, he removed his fangs from my skin, just letting his hot open lips rest on it. 

I let my head drop, releasing a breathy sigh. The fuzziness in my mind was fading away and reality was returning. 

Mansk then slowly lifted himself off my back, pulling out in the process. He rested his hand on my back, while the two of us calmed down. I sat back on my knees, lazily lifting my head and checking our surroundings. 

“Y’ alright?” he asked me, and I heard a hint of worry in his voice. Maybe he thought that he hurt me. 

I nod, smiling. 

“Yeah, great.” 

He smirked, handing me my pants before pulling his ones up and adjusting his belt. 

I sit there for a while, holding the clothes and just trying to focus on clearing my mind. That’s when I pick up a noise. My head turns in the direction of the distant rustling leaves. I wonder whether I’m just hearing things but when I turn back to look at Mansk, who is geared up again I can tell he’s hearing it too. 

Seeing that you haven’t quite recovered yet, Mansk steps forward, feeling the need to protect you. His ears were tipped back but still trained on the approaching noise. He raised his weapon, waiting to see what would come out between the tall grass, huge leaves and trees. 

He stood in front of me as if he were shielding me from what was to come. I watched as well, staying alert in case of any danger. My hands held my clothes over my exposed self, trying to cover up what a few moments earlier I had exposed. 

After a few moments, the noise got so close one could tell it was footsteps by the pace at which the noise was coming in. My eyes widened and I went pale. Mansk wasn’t the only recom hunting me. 

Quickly I stood up, holding the clothes in front of my abdomen, fastening them by wrapping my tail around myself. I stood behind Mansk, peeking past him to see. 

A faint voice was heard and some mumbling until we saw the leaves rustling. Suddenly, Quaritch emerged from the forest with Lyle behind him. 

They looked just as surprised to see us as we were to see them. Well, the two men were following my scent just like Mansk had done, but they were surprised to see Mansk there with me. 

Manks lowered his weapon, wanting to let out a small sigh of relief at the false alarm of danger until he realised that they must be in the same state he was in before. While he still felt protective, he couldn’t prevent anything from happening. Especially because both of them were his superiors. Colonel Quaritch and Corporal Wainfleet. 

“Well won’t ya look at that,” Quaritch said looking at me. “I was hopin’ to catch you.” 

I don’t think either of them had caught on to what had happened. Lyle only now realised that I was standing behind Mansk. The Colonel observed Mansk, raising an eyebrow at him before Mansk huffed and moved out of the way. 

Miles’ and Lyle’s eyes landed on me and instantly noticed the newly bare skin I was showing. They seemed surprised again. The Colonel raised both his eyebrows, just staring at me pathetically trying to cover myself and he scoffed. 

Lyle was grinning, both of them seeming amused by how I was standing in front of them. Mansk on the other hand was cursing himself for not dressing you when he had the chance. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea of them seeing you like this. At least he got you first. 

That’s when I heard a voice in my ear and realised it was Z-Dog. My ears perked up and I flinched a little. 

‘Y/N?’ she asked and I pressed the call on my throat to reply. 

“Z-Dog? How you doing?” I ask, wondering whether she hasn’t been caught yet. Miles notices what’s happening and presses his own call on his throat, listening to our conversation. 

‘I’m kinda fucked, not gonna lie.’ she replies and I have to suppress a giggle. 

“Same here.” I reply and she starts complaining about this taking too long. Miles dismisses it with a wave of his hand and stops listening. I do too, needing to focus on the situation I was in. 

Quaritch walks past Mansk and towards me, while Lyle follows. He stares me down but not in a hateful way. He’s examining me. My reactions to him. He needs to know how I feel because my scent has had him and Lyle both feeling sexually frustrated over the past hour. 

Lyle passes his fellow soldier. “What? Don’t like sharin’?” he teases Mansk before returning his gaze to me. Mansk grunts, clearly not pleased. 

“I thought you were innocent, princess.” Miles said, putting his finger under my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes. 

I started feeling all flustered and overwhelmed again. If more soldiers would come after Miles and Lyle I would pass out. 

For slight comfort, I curled my tail around my lower thigh. My eyes looked away from Quaritch’s ones and I naturally had my ears tipped back, showing my restless state. 

“I think I prefer you like this, though.” Miles added and Lyle smirked. I looked up at Miles and noticed how his nose twitched. 

He picked up your scent which was 10 times as strong now. He had it flooding his mind with vivid imaginations for the past hour, but never was it this strong. 

I watched how his pupils seemed to dilate and his eyes magically grew darker. Lyle smelled it too, and groaned, adjusting his pants. I glanced down and almost gasped. They seemed to be just as lust-hindered as me. 

While my problem had just been solved by Mansk, seeing them had me feeling aroused all over again. I bit my lip and clenched my legs together and Miles’ eyes shot down, watching my movements. That’s what broke his restraining form. He grabbed my shoulder, angling me to the side so that his hand could grasp my braid. His other hand then went down and he tore the pants that were covering me from my grip. I squeaked at the sudden movements and then felt how Quaritch kicked in the back of my knees, making me fall down to mine with his guidance. 

Lyle chuckled, moving forward to stand in front of me. Quaritch got down on his knees behind me, examining me for a few seconds before his hand reached out for my bra and pulled it up so that my breasts were now bare in front of all of them. My face heated up in embarrassment because I was the only one exposed like this.

He then pushed me further down and I found myself on all fours again. My tail was trying to cover my pussy but it was no use. The Colonel had one hand wrapped around my braid, tugging it back, while the other grabbed my tail and moved it to the side. 

Suddenly, Lyle got down on his knees in front of me and I noticed how strained his pants were from his hard-on. He took over, holding the braid so that Quaritch could focus on my lower half. He held my tail to the side and let his fingers glide through the folds of my pussy. 

Still being a little sensitive from last time, I flinch but it feels so good that a soft moan escapes my lips. 

“Look at you, acting like a bitch in heat.” Miles teases, delivering a harsh spank to my right cheek. I yelp, biting down on my lip and the Lyle cups my face, stroking my cheekbone with his thumb, just staring down at me while his superior continues to tease me. 

I was in fact, a bitch in heat. 

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll give you what you want.” Quaritch says and I feel a little relieved that the teasing will end. 

The Colonel would have continued but he needed to solve his own cravings and they couldn’t wait any longer. 

Behind me, I once again heard a belt being undone and a zipper opened. Lyle did the same in front of me and I gasped a little when I saw his dick. Holy shit, he was big. 

I felt Miles, push his head against my hot slick skin, rubbing it for a bit before he lined himself up with me. I held my breath, knowing there was almost no time for foreplay because our needs were too strong. One could call the hunt, foreplay.

Quaritch’s hand wrapped around my tail and his other hand gripped my hip and he thrust himself into me swiftly with one move. I was still wet from Mansk so it was easier to fit this time. 

Miles hissed at the feeling and pleasure started clouding his senses too. I moaned, arching my back into Miles and Lyle chuckled. 

“I didn’t think you’d be greedy, Buttercup.” Lyle teased, placing his cock on my parted lips. “You just got fucked and now ya gettin’ it again.” 

I couldn’t even comprehend what he was saying because Quaritch started moving his hips against mine, not being able to stop himself from mindlessly rutting into me.

“Open that pretty lil’ mouth, baby.” Lyle said, grasping my jaw into his hand. I do as he says and look at him through the eyelashes of my half-lidded eyes. Lyle lets my tongue glide over the tip of his dick and he bites down on his bottom lip, tightening his grip on my hair. Then he slowly angles my jaw down and pushes a bit of himself into me, so that his dick presses against the inside of my cheek. I wrap my lips around him, using my tongue to continue to worship his cock. 

Miles grunts, speeding his pace up. “Ya feel so good- fuck, sweet’eart.” he curses, keeping his eyes fixed on where he’s disappearing into me while occasionally glancing at how I’m taking Lyle. 

Lyle holds my head in place and rocks his hips back a forth a bit. I can see how he is fighting the urge to just fuck my face but if I would let him I would most definitely suffocate. Each time he pushes himself down my throat a little more, until I reach my limit and he’s only halfway in. Luckily, Lyle doesn’t seem to care because once he pushed in as far as possible, his head lolled back in bliss. 

Each time Miles hit a specific spot inside me that made me lose my mind, I moaned around Lyle which stimulated him even further. 

“Such a slut for us, huh baby?” Miles said breathily, knowing damn well I couldn’t reply. 

“So good…” Lyle sighed, his eyes watching my lips.

I was being tugged back and forth, and I felt Quaritch’s nails dig into my hip. Their pants and grunts were sending shivers down my body and I felt my legs start to shake. 

“Who’s fucking you this good, sweetheart?” Miles asks, speeding up his ruthless pace. I moan around Lyle in response, squeezing my eyes shut. 

Lyle can’t help himself but push himself a little further into you. It’s been overwhelming from the start and now I can’t restrain a choke, followed by a muffled cough. Quickly, I try to relax my throat and I feel tears stinging in the corners of my eyes. 

I look up pleadingly at Lyle and see how his bottom lip has almost turned white from how hard he is holding it between his teeth. His tail is flicking behind him in satisfaction and his muscles keep flexing. 

I feel Miles’ thrusts go sloppy and he lets go of my hip, his free hand travelling beneath me and almost immediately finding my clit. My eyes shoot open and I whimper. 

He applies pressure to my clit, rubbing it with his middle finger while I can’t stop myself from pressing further into him. 

“That’s it, almost there, baby.” Miles says between clenched teeth, focusing on having me release at the same time as him. 

I hollow my cheeks around Lyle and he groans again, throwing his head back while guiding my head up and down him. The fact that I’m able to take so much of him into my mouth turns him on so much he can’t suppress his climax anymore.

Lyle thrusts forward, holding my mouth firmly close to him while his entire body tenses and he empties himself down my throat. Since he’s so far down, I swallow all of his cum out of reflex. 

Lyle pulls out of me and I manage to finally breathe again. His fingers wipe some spit and cum off my lip as he watches the way my face contorts in pleasure. 

“Sir-” I moan, wanting to let him know I’ll cum soon. Addressing him like that at this moment made his stomach twist in excitement and he continued to pound into me. 

“I know baby, you can let go.” He breathes out, his finger still massaging my clit. He switches his angle again and perfectly hits my G-spot making me cry out. 

I come undone and swear that I can see stars. My mind and vision go blank for a few seconds as I spasm around Quaritch who rides out my high before climaxing. He curses under his breath, both hands gripping my hips as he thrusts himself as deep into me as possible and stills his movements. 

The Colonel’s muscles flex and his head falls back while he releases his cum deep into me, having it mix with Mansk’s. 

Lyle had zipped his pants up again, and was holding my head up with his hand, grinning at the way my eyes rolled to the back of my head. 

I hear a sigh behind me and Miles slowly pulls out and I start losing balance. My body starts tipping to one side but both men hold me steadily again before I can fall. 

“You still with us, Buttercup?” Lyle asks, chuckling when he sees my glossy eyes. I’m completely fucked out and they know it.

I nod, with a small cough and a sniffle. He wipes a few tears away, caressing my cheek again. My bra was adjusted down again and after Miles dressed himself, he helped me back into my underwear and pants. 

Mansk helped me to my feet while the other two adjusted their belts and picked up their weapons. I was leaning against him, my head pressed against his arm while I tried to regain my senses in reality. 

“You doin’ okay, pretty?” Mansk asks, his hand comfortingly rubbing up and down my back. I gently nod, sniffling a little again and rubbing my eye. I was so exhausted. 

“We’re headin’ back. We reassemble the squad and then return to base.” Miles orders and both soldiers nod. He walks up to me, smiling when I look up at him. 

“You did good, sweetheart. Can ya’ manage?” he asks, wondering whether I will be able to walk home. I tiredly nod, and he returns it before leading the way. Mansk guides me, letting me lean on him whenever I have to while Lyle walks at the back, to ensure our safety. 

Even though I was still in a rather scary and unfamiliar environment, to be completely honest, I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer in my entire life.

...

Colonel's Orders Version 2.0 (Ja and Prager smut)

[cornfield-chase]

if villain why slutty waist

[fanfiction-blep]

Hi! I’m completely obsessed with Navi Miles quaritch, could you please do him going down on a woman? I’m craving the smut ❤️

Honestly same bby, this man has me down bad. Hope you enjoy. I might just do an image of this after, cus head cannons doesn't feel like enough i have so much to say about Quaritch and eating pussy.

Na'vi Miles Quaritch Giving his partner oral

Warnings: Smut, Oral F/receiving, Dom/sub dynamic, Dom miles.

This man loves eating pussy and he won't let anyone shame him for it. If any of the other male shoulders say something along the lines of "What's the point? I don't get nothing out of it?" He snort and stare them down "Real men enjoy giving their women pleasure"

Though, I think how much he enjoys going down on you depends on your relationship? If you're fuck buddies sure he'll go down on you. But If you in a relationship that is his pussy now.

If he cares about you he will be down bad for the taste of you and may on occasion almost beg for a tatse, he's not a switch will never be a sub. But if he wants a taste, its more a plead than anything. However he will pin you against his mattress and whisper into your ear

"Gotta taste ya, please just one taste" "You wanna feel good baby? let daddy make you feel good" He will eat you out in any position kneeling on the floor with your legs hanging over the bed. laying on his stomach. Bending you over a table, his personal favourite you sitting on his face. OMG. It gives him more control you see?

He will cum from going down on you. CHANGE MY MIND.

He will tease you (of course) Spreading your legs While he Nestles between them smirking up at you. by this point your chest is heaving Skin hot and flushed anticipation leaving a pool of your arousal that begins to drip down onto the sheets beneath you. "fuck, so wet for me ya who gets you this wet?" "You sir" "That's right" the words would leave his mouth as a growl and a shit eating grin would be spreading across his face. he hasn't even tasted you yet, and you're still begging him and dripping just at the thought.

His ego is huge when he goes down on you. Because he wont stop unless you cum. The first time he went down on you, It was amazing yes but you didn't cum and at one point you tapped his head and told him. "It's okay if I don't cum. You're making me feel so good anyways." And he took that as a challenge. He wrapped his arms around your thighs holding you in place, sucking hard on your clit. Fingers finding their way inside of you. He pulled many, many orgasms out of you that night.

He loves dirty talk so in or out of the bedroom he'll tell you how much he craves the taste of you. "Been thinking about you all day." The words rolling off his tongue so easily, his demeaner cool and collected. While he's left you with your tights rubbing together trying to sooth the ache he's created. Sometimes he holds no shame, he will lean in and mutter "Daddy's hungry, let's go"

He'll melt when he gets to taste you. The first brush of his tongue is the most delicate, but once your arousal drips onto the muscle he looses all control. HE WILL BURY HIS FACE INTO YOU. the point of his nose brushing lightly against your clit stimulating you.

No one can convince me that this man isnt grinding himself into the mattress while he is going down on you.

The Na'vi body blessed this man with a tongue that he could fuck you with. And when he's not fucking you with his tongue, he is sucking on your clit fucking you slowly with his fingers.

now, this man will die to have you on top of you. He loves having you sitting on his face. the feeling of you completely covering his mouth is just too much sometimes and that's when he gets all desperate. He'll make it a personal goal to make you squirt.

"Common Princess you can do it, make a mess for me"

without a doubt going to push you into overstimulation.

SO quaritch is a dom, and he likes tying you up. NevER during oral though, he enjoys you're hands digging into his hair even though it is short. Especially when you're over worked and you're pushing at his head telling him its too much. "You can do it baby-" "One more common, make daddy proud"

he will take pride in pushing into complete no thoughts head empty space. When you can no longer form a coherent sentence and your legs start shaking then he knows he has done his job properly.

I am convinced that he craves the taste of you so bad that instead of quickies its just him dragging you into the nearest unoccupied room and he'll go down on you. And that's it. If he cums with you great , but he doesn't need too. Your pleasure is his pleasure.

"You're as sweet as honey princess. All mine"

FUUUCK this man!

Okay slightly kinky rout here, BUt IMAGINE HIM USING A SPREDER BAR.

just think about it. Its a way for him to restrain you and (kinda) tie you up while leaving your hands free enough to still touch him. I could imagine how much fun he would have. his head buried deep against you hands against the back of your knees holding yours legs up.

^^^ he would do this without the bar but i digress.

he just loves your pussy man. Like you loose all ability to function, while he gains a one track mind and his only thought is keeping you on his tongue for as long as he can.

He just loves it.

[niku30]

regroup in hell

[naomish-art]

My take on Quaritch in Ash Na'vi attire 🔥 (from the sad pixelated avatar 3 crumb James gave us)

[pandorafairy]

Secret Cove (Part 5)

Neteyam x Metkayina (oldest daughter of Tonowari, the chief)

Neteyam is 18

Contains: intense scenes, battle, and some Neteyam fluff (ish?)

WARNINGS: Battle with blood, fighting, killing. This is not a light-hearted or easy read. It is emotional so please be aware of that before reading <3

My throat tightens as my feet carry me toward Neteyam. Don’t think about it, I tell myself. Just think about what’s right in front of you. I refuse to cry, not when the whole clan is gathering, readying to fight. 

Voices float out of Sully's pod. I don’t bother to stop and listen, I run right inside. Lo’ak looks up in shock. Neteyam is helping Tuk, his back turned towards me. 

“Neteyam,” I breathe out, all the emotion I’ve kept bundled up, spills out through my voice. His face whips around and his eyes widen at the sight of me. I don’t react or say hello, I just throw my arms around his neck and pull him into me. His arms circle around me, grasping me in a tight embrace. 

He pulls back and places his hands on both sides of my face. His worried eyes peer into mine as he rubs soothing circles on my face. “What’s wrong?”

I take a deep breath. It’s easier to breathe now that I’m with Neteyam. His calming presence gives me the strength to face all the Sully kids. They look at me in alarm. “My mother’s spirit sister, Roa, she’s been murdered. Her and her calf.” 

Kiri gasps and places her hand over her mouth as Lo’ak’s mouth falls open. Tuk grips Kiri’s hand. Neteyam places his hand on my shoulder comfortingly, his hand tightening on my skin. He knows what the murder of Tulkun means to me. And for it to be my mother’s… “I’m so-”

“There’s more,” I interrupt. “The whole clan wants to go to battle. Jake is out there trying to stop them. We must hurry.” 

Neteyam nods, immediately switching into fight mode. Lo’ak tenses up beside him. “What about Tsireya?” 

“She’s okay. Now, come on,” I reply and grab Neteyam’s hand. His fingers instantly intertwine with mine. We sprint out of the pod. Shouts and hollers crack through the air as we race towards the commotion. All the Sully kids follow behind me, none of them saying anything.

Nerves bubble up in my stomach as the clan comes into view. Neteyam’s hand stays proudly in mine, neither of us caring if the whole clan knows. I look at him, my nervousness and guilt clear on my face. He squeezes my hand and nods slightly as if to say, we’re in it together. My heart swells for a moment, thankful that he is here. 

The moment is quickly gone though. The entire clan is gathered and all of them are screaming battle cries. The tops of my parent’s and Jake’s heads are visible over the crowd. We need to get closer. As if reading my mind, Neteyam turns to his siblings. “Stay here.” 

Jake’s voice carries over the crowd. “The sky people will take everything you love!”

Oh, no. Neteyam and I push into the crowd as they begin to yell angrily at Jake. Neteyam’s shoulders tense up but we keep pushing through the crowd, keeping our hands tightly locked together. 

Someone puts their webbed hand out to stop us from moving forward. Neteyam lets out a low, guttural growl. The person’s eyes widen in alarm before recognizing Neteyam and me. The son of Toruk Makto and the daughter of the Olo’eyktan. They move their arm back instantly and we continue on. 

“You need to tell the Tulkun to leave!” Jake cries as Neteyam and I finally reach the center of the circle. Jake is holding a strange red object that looks like a large pin. My parents stand in the center, my father observes the clan thoughtfully and my mom looks angry. 

She turns to Jake. “They are our brothers and sisters! We will not tell them to leave!”

We move closer to where Jake is standing. Neteyam’s focus is now completely absorbed on the problem in front of him. A few eyes from the clan follow us curiously, noting our conjoined hands. 

“If they stay here, they will die.” Jake yells, desperation curling at the sides of his voice. His fingers are wrapped tightly around the strange red object. 

The clan erupts into battle cries. Aonung and others stick their tongues out, our traditional call to battle. The hairs on my arms stick up. My clan has battle gear on; they are preparing to fight. The crowd continues to yell at Jake as he steps back and stares pleading at my dad. My dad is contemplating what to do, I can tell by the way he rolls his shoulders. 

“Listen to him!” Neteyam yells. The crowd continues to holler, ignoring Neteyam’s request. 

“LISTEN!” I scream with a sharp voice. My father turns to me in surprise before lifting his arms to silence the clan. Everyone stops cheering immediately. I look at Neteyam, his face full of determination, and squeeze his hand. 

A thankful look quickly passes over his face before he continues. “My father knows the sky people. Listen to him! He knows how they are.” 

My father crosses his arms, his eyes catching on our interlocked hands. He stares at Neteyam before looking at Jake. Neytiri twitches from behind Jake as she observes the scene. 

“Look,” Jake begins. He turns so he can face the whole clan. “This is about saving their lives. Isn’t that the most important thing? Saving lives?”

This time the clan is silent. No one hoots or hollers, they all look to my father, waiting for him to speak. My heart pounds in my chest as I pray he will listen to reason. Neteyam watches Jake nervously. I rub my fingers along the back of his hand, letting him know that I am proud of him. 

“Tell the Tulkun,” my dad says. He takes the red object from Jake and lifts it above his head. “Tell them that if they are struck with one of these, that they are marked for death.” 

The clan bursts into activity, people dive into the water while others grab ilus. Relief floods through me and then Joala comes to mind. My spirit sister. I have to warn her. Neteyam’s eyes search through the flurry of people. 

“Nete,” I say. “I have to warn Joala.” 

“I have to find Lo’ak. That skxawng is going to try and tell the outcast.” 

I hate having to say it but I do anyway. “Okay, so we can meet back here after.” 

“Yes.” He nods slowly, clearly not liking the idea either. “We’ll meet back here.”

We separate hands. Mine feels suddenly cold without his holding it. He places his fingers against my cheek and quickly leans in, placing a soft kiss against my lips. My stomach flutters slightly and all the commotion fades away, like it’s just us. We pull back after just a moment, both of us knowing we have things to do. He caresses my cheek once more before taking off and disappearing into the crowd.

I turn, my lips tingling, and dive into the water. My people swim all around me, even small children are in the water, nervously watching their parents swim towards the Tulkun. I catch the eye of one of the kids and sign to them. ‘It will be okay.’

They nod at me and seem to relax. I think once more of Neteyam as I swim off. I hope he finds Lo’ak and all goes smoothly. I’ll see him and his beautiful golden eyes soon. Now, I push all those thoughts out of my mind and call for Joala. 

~~~

Finding Joala was more difficult than I thought it would be but I finally found her. She was anxious in the midst of all the chaos and it took some convincing to calm her down and tell her to leave. After a hug and some tears, she finally did. I’d rushed back to the village, searching frantically for Neteyam, my siblings or any of the Sully kids, but they were all gone.

I didn’t start panicking until now. I’m standing in the doorway of my family's pod, my parents staring at me with confused looks. 

“What’s wrong?” My dad asks. 

“I can’t find them,” my voice shakes. A million thoughts race through my mind. Neteyam and my siblings. Where are they? My dad stands up, worrying lines creasing his forehead. My mother opens her mouth to speak when Jake rushes in the doorway, followed by Neytiri. 

“Our kids are under attack. They’re helping a Tulkun.” Jake says quickly, clearly stressed.  Neytiri grips her bow. My mom hisses and grabs her spear. My dad pauses, studying the seriousness of Jake’s face, before calling out to the village. 

“I need a battle group ready. The sky people have come.” 

The village once again bursts into activity. Adults grab their battle weapons and dive into the water. Jake and Neytiri run out of the tent followed by my mom. I grab my knives and spear from next to my cot.

“I don’t think you should come,” my dad says flatly as he picks up his own weapons. 

I stare at him, conveying all of my emotions through my eyes. “It’s Tsireya and Aonung,” I say. “And Neteyam.” My dad tilts his head to the side as I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m going and you cannot stop me.”

He slings his weapons over his shoulder and rushes out of the pod. “Then you better hurry.” 

~~~

Payakan is destroying the ship. He’s rolling around, wrecking havoc and giving just enough time for my people to engage. My father gives a battle cry and the entire clan surges forward. I grip my ilu, searching the water’s for Neteyam’s braids. I shove out all my nerves and fear, letting the icy calmness of battle settle into my veins. 

I swim on the outside of the group, watching as my clan begins to engage with the sky people. Where could Neteyam be? I know my sister is onboard but I can’t save her alone. Or could I? The watership is large, at least twenty armed men stand around my sister and the Sully’s. 

Gun shots, cries, and yells fill the air. The battle is really beginning. My people shove their spears into the enemies as they shoot back. I guess I’ll have to try and save Tsireya myself. I take a deep breath and go underwater. 

I swim beneath the waves, far below the commotion. White waves scatter on the surface as people and bullets fly through the water. I focus on keeping my heart rate slow. I’m about fifteen feet from the ship when a hand grips my arm.

I whip around, tightening my grip on my spear to find Neteyam floating beside me on an ilu. My entire body relaxes. He’s safe. My Neteyam is safe. He has a small cut on his arm but other than that he seems fine. He smiles softly at me, letting me know he’s happy to see me too. 

‘Are you ok?’ Neteyam signs. 

I nod and point to the ship above. We both need to get up there and save our siblings. He understands me immediately and motions for me to follow him. We work our way easily through the commotion under the water. I seem to know his every move before he does it like we’re connected and working from the same mind. Even in the midst of battle, I feel so much safer when I’m next to him. 

We reach the edge of the ship where a piece of metal hangs down. We break the surface, I survey the water making sure no attackers are coming as he pulls the metal rail down. Our ilu’s swim off and Neteyam faces me, his eyes intensely focused. 

“You first,” he says as he slips his hands under my arms and hauls me up. I grip the metal railing and begin to climb. “Wait for me at the top,” Neteyam calls over the commotion of battle. “I’ll go over first in case anyone is there.” 

Once I reach the top, I immediately climb over, ignoring his plea to go first. I don’t want to risk him being hurt just for my safety. 

“Don’t!” He yells forcefully as he realizes what I’m doing. 

My feet hit the deck softly, I check both ways. “All clear!” 

Neteyam pulls himself over the ledge and glares at me. “You were supposed to wait.” 

I wink at him, causing him to roll his eyes playfully. He grabs my arm, his hand hot against my skin, and we run down the edge of the ship. Tsireya, Tuk, and Lo’ak are all tied to the outer railing. Neteyam and I begin to sprint the second we see the outlines of their bodies. 

Tsireya sees me and her face breaks into a wide grin. We finally reach them, both of us panting. Neteyam pulls out a knife and cuts Tsireya free. She breaks out of her bonds and instantly throws her arms around me. I pull her tightly against me, feeling the familiar curl of her soft hair. “Sister,” I say. “I’m so glad you’re alright.” 

She pulls back from me, a tear running down her face. “I knew you’d come.” 

“Need some help, mighty warrior?” Neteyam’s voice floats over to us. I fight the urge to scoff at him. Even at times like this, he is teasing his brother. Lo’ak mumbles something back to Neteyam before rolling his eyes. Tuk stands nervously beside us and rubs her sore wrists. Tsireya reaches out to hold her hand. Once Lo’ak is cut free I turn to leave, the girls following behind me. 

“Wait,” Lo’ak’ says. “They’ve got Spider.” 

Neteyam freezes. My heart drops. He looks at me and the girls, an unreadable expression on his face. “We have to leave this ship.” 

“No. We have to go back for him,” Lo’ak pleads.

Neteyam curses under his breath before looking at Lo’ak and nodding. Lo’ak bends down and picks up a gun. Neteyam turns back to us. He rushes up to me and grabs my hands. I begin shaking my head, unsure of what’s happening but knowing it isn’t good. 

“Neteyam, don’t leave.” 

“I’ll see you right after this.” 

“No. Come with us.”

“I can’t.” Neteyam looks back at Lo’ak who’s waving at him to hurry. “I have to do this.” He squeezes my hands once more before looking at Tuk and Tsireya. “Take care of our sisters, ocean girl.” He turns and follows Lo’ak.

“Nete!” I call after him. The wall of calmness I’d felt earlier is cracking. Now that he is gone, I can feel the panic sinking in. 

“Sister?” Tsireya asks cautiously. Tuk looks up at me with big, scared eyes. Their expressions snap me back to reality. 

“Come on.” I say, grabbing both their shoulders and pushing them forward, “We have to get off this ship.” 

~~~

Take care of our sisters, ocean girl. 

I wasn’t able to do it. Tuk turned back for Kiri, I tried to stop her. I sent Tsireya away and followed Tuk onto the ship but it was no use. They threw me off and kept her. I panicked, knowing I couldn’t save her alone. I dove back into the water and swam off for help. 

Now, I’m treading water searching for anyone. I don’t see Jake or Neytiri, they must be engaged in their own fight. My heart pounds against my chest and I chew on my lip. This is turning into a disaster. Someone waves at me from a large rock a little ways away. It’s Tsireya. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I swim to her. 

“My sister,” Tsireya exclaims as I climb onto the slick rock. I almost slip on the wetness of the rock but she quickly steadies me with her hand. “Where’s Tuk?”

I shake my head, guilt and shame wrapping around my brain. All I was supposed to do was protect her. And I couldn’t do it. “They took her. Kiri and her are on the ship,” my voice comes out strained, barely more than a whisper. 

Tsireya gasps softly before reaching out and tucking a piece of fallen hair behind my ear. “We’ll go back for them once the boys arrive. It’ll be alright” 

I nod at her, wanting to believe her hopeful words. She is right, I will go back for those girls. I will not fail Neteyam. I repeat these words to myself, trying to calm my nerves. Tsireya watches me worriedly.

“Help!” Lo’ak’s voice cuts through the air. I freeze. All my thoughts vanish from my mind. Lo’ak and Aonung are holding onto an ilu, swimming quickly towards us. The sides of my vision begin to darken as I notice a figure lying across Lo’ak’s lap. Who is that? The boys reach the rock. Tsireya and I bend down to help them up. The figure’s head lolls back. Blood is spread across their chest. Their breathing is coming out in ragged spurts. His golden eyes look into mine. I inhale sharply, feeling the world tilt right before me. It’s Neteyam. 

My hands immediately wrap around his body as I help heave him onto the rocks. I can’t think. There’s no way. Neteyam is too good. Too pure. He lays on the rocks, coughing with each breath. I grab his hand and squeeze. His eyes bore into mine, full of pain and fear. 

“Nete,” I whisper. “You’re going to be fine.” 

He doesn’t respond. His hand is limp in mine as he continues to watch me. He coughs again, splaying blood across the rocks. Lo’ak kneels beside me. 

“What’s going on?” Jake asks. Neytiri is right there, her bow in hand and her face in shock. Jake runs up the rock and sits next to Neteyam. He lifts Neteyam off the rock like a doll, and he looks at his back. A bullet has gone through his body, right through his chest. 

A strangled gasp comes out of me. My hands begin to shake violently. Nete. His gaze becomes lazier like it’s harder for him to focus. 

“Put some pressure on him!” Jake says to Lo’ak as Neytiri sinks down to her knees beside her oldest son. 

Lo’ak places his hands on Neteyam’s wound. His eyes swimming with tears and his mouth pressed into a shaking frown. My ears begin to ring. I can’t hear anything other than a high pitched ring. The only thing I can see is Neteyam’s face, caked with dirt and blood. 

He inhales sharply and smiles at me before grunting like the action took a lot of effort and was painful. I start to shake my head. I know exactly why he gave me that smile. He’s telling me it’s okay. He’s trying to comfort me during this time. I squeeze his hand harder but he turns away and faces his parents. I can’t breathe, it’s like all the air in the world is being sucked right out. “Nete, no,” I beg so lightly that no one hears me. 

“I want to go home,” Neteyam says to Jake before coughing. Jake places his hands on Neteyam with a tortured look on his face. 

“We’re going home,” Jake replies. “You’re going home, buddy.” 

Neteyam opens his mouth to say more when a terrible sound escapes his lips. It’s a quiet sound, him breathing out, but the edges of his breath are rough, like it came from the depths of his lungs and is the last breath he has. Then, silence. It’s completely quiet. Neteyam isn’t moving. And he isn’t breathing. 

This isn’t happening. My whole body shakes. Jake closes his eyes. Neytiri stares in disbelief. She crawls forward and takes Neteyam’s bleeding body into her arms. I let go of his hand, feeling the softness of his fingers, the familiar curve of his hand, slip right out of my grasp. Neytiri bends over his face, touching him, trying to find his soul. She leans her head back and lets out a gut-wrenching, grief-stricken moan, one that came from deep within her. A moan only a mourning mother could produce. 

He’s really gone. My body begins to shake violently. My whole head is throbbing, my hands can’t stay still. And I can’t think or hear. I vaguely feel someone place their hands on me. Tsireya. I push her away, unable to understand or process anything. The high pitched thrill fills my senses. I’m going to pass out. Then wake up and this will all be a terrible, terrible dream. 

But I look over and see Neytiri, tears flooding down her face, her mouth open in another tortured scream, and Jake beside her, trying to talk to her. My throat tightens up, so tight I can’t breathe. Lo’ak sits back on his heels, staring down at his bloody hands. Neteyam’s blood. It isn’t a dream. This is real. 

I want to scream but my throat is too tight. Neteyam: so full of life and adventure, always joking, always taking care of his family, never afraid of a new challenge. My first love. My love. I’m choking, choking on grief and terror. I’m drowning in my own thoughts when Jake’s voice infiltrates my brain. 

“Strong heart.” He says to Neytiri.

I pause. The high pitched ringing slowly falls quiet. She said you have a strong heart. 

My heart clenches at the memory. Neytiri stands up with lethal calm and flies off towards the ship. Jake dives into the water, following her. 

My vision becomes more focused as I stare at the ship. I can hear again. Tsireya is trying to talk to Lo’ak and me. My pain turns to rage. Not rage in the yelling and screaming sense, but a rage that makes me calm. A kind of calmness I’ve never felt before. 

I think of Neteyam’s eyes; his intense gaze, his playful one, his loving one. We are good, she makes me happy

I stand up slowly and grab my spear. Tsireya watches me with wide eyes, instantly understanding what I intend to do. 

“I’m leaving. Stay here.” I don’t recognize the sound of my own voice. Flat and unattached. 

Tsireya shakes her head quickly. She jumps to her feet and rushes towards. “Oh, sister, please. Please, don’t.” 

Her pleads tug at my heart. But it isn’t enough. Kiri and Tuk are on that ship. I will not fail Neteyam. Not now. “I will be back.” 

Tsireya keeps shaking her head but doesn’t try to stop me again. I dive off the rock and call for an ilu. 

I’m not scared or nervous. I know what I want to do. And I will do it. I refuse to think of Neteyam’s body and the blood. I will remember him as he was to me. Smirking at me when he teased me. Laughing with his brother. Helping his sister. 

I reach the ship. The night sky looms above me. I wonder where his ikran is. All those nights we spent up there… His voice floats through my mind. Are you scared, ocean girl? 

The ship is creaking. Water is rushing up on all sides. It’s going to sink soon, I don’t have long. Fire spreads along the outer ring of the ship, heating my skin. Jake must have set off an explosion.

I press myself against the metal wall and go closer to the fire. Neytiri’s battle scream pierces the air, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up straight. I start to run, heading towards the sounds of battle.

I reach the clearing and peer over. Neytiri is surrounded by sky people, all of them with guns but she isn’t losing. She’s tearing each person apart bit by bit. Fighting with such lethal grace that I’m awestruck by the terror and beauty of her. 

I close my eyes and breathe in. 

I see Neteyam laughing, such a beautiful sound. My favorite sound. We already broke two rules, what’s a few more?

His bravery and the way his face would change when he defended his family or me. And I would do it again.

My breath hitches and my heart splinters. I see Neteyam’s face in my mind. How the warm fire casted an orange glow onto him. How his eyes were bright with excitement and his voice was filled with dreams. I want to experience everything in the world. And I want to experience it with you.

He won’t get to. We won’t get to. My eyes snap open. A furious rage takes over my breaking heart, muddling out all the sadness. I scream. I let out the loudest battle cry and sprint into the clearing. 

Bullets and cries shoot through the air as I stab my spear into a sky person. They groan and fall down. Neytiri looks at me for a quick moment before continuing to fight. I hardly register what I’m doing, I just move and strike. Move and dodge. Move and kill. 

The sounds of battle fall deaf against my ears. I’m laser focused on each sky person, making my way deeper into the ship. A bullet flies right past my ear. I spin around and shove my spear into the sky person’s chest. Their eyes fill with fright before they fall limp. Perhaps I should feel guilty, but I don’t. The memory of Neteyam’s eyes keeps me going. 

Finally, I see an opening that goes inside the ship. I sprint through it, hearing Neytiri’s screams fade. Tuk and Kiri are tied up against the railing. Tuk’s face brightens when she sees me. 

I rush over to them and kneel down, noticing for the first time all the cuts and dirt that cover my skin. I yank out a knife from my pocket and begin to cut Tuk loose. 

Kiri whips her head towards me at the sound of my knife hitting Tuk’s bonds. “Wait!” Kiri cries panickedly. “It’s a trap!” 

I don’t have time to register her words. A gunshot goes off. The piercing sound echoes through the small space. I fly backwards, a burning pain shoots through the right side of my chest. My knife clatters against the ground uselessly. I land painfully on the metal ground, the breath completely knocked out of me. 

“No!” Tuk screams. 

The pain in my chest is nearly unbearable. I try to sit up but I can’t. The burning sensation spreads through my whole body. I turn my head to the side. Kiri and Tuk stare at me in horror.

“This ain’t who I was lookin’ for.” An unfamiliar voice says. An avatar saunters into my view. I try to turn my head to get a better look but it’s too painful. The avatar walks towards me, I can feel the vibration of his footsteps against the metal floor. I open my mouth to speak but no sound comes out. 

“Guess I’ll have to keep waiting.” The avatar states. He bends down right in front of me so all I can see is his blue face and three long scars against the side of his head. It’s Quaritch. Neteyam told me enough about him. I suck in, using all of my strength, and spit in his face. 

Kiri gasps. Quaritch doesn’t flinch. He just slowly brings his hand to his face and wipes it off. Breathing is becoming more difficult as the seconds pass. The burning in my chest is turning into stone like there’s a heavy weight on me that I can’t get off. 

Quaritch stares at me for a moment before his gaze turns angry. He quickly grabs the sides of my shoulders, yanks me off the ground and throws me far out of the room. The abrupt movement is excruciating. It feels like all the skin in my chest has been ripped open, like a million little knives are stabbing me right in my heart and chest. I hit the ground hard. My head slams into the metal, making my vision go blurry. 

I’ve landed in the clearing where the fighting once was. All the sky people lay dead around me. I can’t move. I try to stand but it feels like all my body parts have stopped taking orders from my brain. I try to breathe but it comes out in thick wheezes, hardly absorbing any air. 

Quaritch talks to the girls from inside the ship. I want to crawl over and help them but I can’t.  My vision is growing darker by the second as I stare at the night sky. I can’t even catch my breath. For the first time since being on the rock, I’m scared. 

Hands fall onto my shoulders. All I see are stars until the person bends their head over mine. It’s Neytiri. Her face is filled with emotion from battle and grief. Her eyes fly frantically across my face and body, assessing the damage. I open my mouth to speak but all that comes out are wheezes. 

“Shhh,” she whispers, her voice rough from fighting. “It’ll be okay, little one.” 

I’m crying. I hadn’t noticed it until now. The tears cover my cheeks in thick, wet droplets. Maybe I’ve been crying this whole time and only just now realized. I shake my head but nothing moves. 

I’m about to panic when a sweet sound fills my ears. Neytiri is singing to me. It’s a song I don’t recognize. Maybe one from the forest. I close my eyes. Maybe she sang this song to Neteyam once. My wheezing is slowing down. My chest isn’t rising and falling with the same vigor as earlier, it’s no longer trying to catch a breath. 

Neytiri’s voice wraps me in a loving, motherly blanket. She rubs her hands along my shoulders, comforting me. My brain struggles to make any thoughts so I focus on her voice. Until my ears start to ring and then suddenly, they just go silent. I open my eyes. Neytiri is still singing but I can’t hear her. I can’t hear anything. 

My chest rises once more. Neytiri’s eyes are the same golden hue as Neteyam’s. I smile at the thought as I let out my last breath. 

~~~

The first thing I hear is water. Water rushing down and crashing like some kind of waterfall. I open my eyes, squinting against the sudden brightness. Huge trees sway above me, a vibrant green against the blue sky. Unfamiliar chirps fill my ears, the calls of animals I don’t recognize. 

I sit up slowly. I’m lying in the middle of the forest. Trees and greenery completely surround me. I brush my webbed fingers against the soft ground, feeling the dirt and grass. My hand flies to my chest, remembering the pain I was in. 

There is nothing there but smooth skin. No pain. I inhale slowly. Where am I? 

Splashing comes from where I assume the waterfall is. I can’t see it through the trees but something tells me to go towards the sound. I rise to my feet, testing out my legs, feeling my body. It all feels the same. I take in every sight as I walk, noticing the different plants and animals as the dirt sticks between my toes. 

The greenery suddenly gives away to a small pond where a waterfall cascades down. Green shrubs cover the ground beside the water, full of flowers and vines that hang over various rocks. Small fish swim leisurely in the pond as wildlife chirp happily in the trees. My heart swells at the beautiful view as my eyes focus on the person standing in the center of the pond.

His dark blue back is to me. His braids fall forward as he studies the water, searching for a fish to catch with a spear clasped between his familiar fingers. A smile finds its way onto my lips. He slams the spear down into one of the fish and pulls it out of the water. He examines the fish proudly, his golden eyes full of life. 

“Nete,” I say. “Forest boy.” 

He looks up, his mouth slightly open. He throws his spear to the side, forgetting completely about the fish, and runs up to me. I can’t breathe. I’m too scared this isn’t real. His strong arms encircle me, warmth spreads through my whole body as his scent fills my nose: pine and seawater. It’s Neteyam. 

I cough out a laugh of disbelief and throw my arms around his neck. He squeezes me closer to him like he’s trying to meld us into one person. I reach my hands into his hair and entangle his braids with my fingers, feeling his being. He’s here. 

I don’t let go of him and he keeps his arms around me. We cling to each other with everything we have. All my pain and confusion vanishes. I know where I am. I know what’s happened. We’re with our Great Mother. I inhale deeply, smelling his scent again and feeling his chest against mine. We’re together. 

He pulls back slowly. I retract my hands and place them along the sides of his face. He stares into my eyes, his golden eyes full of love.

“I was so happy to be back home. I saw the trees. I saw the ikran. I saw everything but it didn’t feel right,” he whispers. He reaches his hand out and smoothes my hair down. “But now you’re here.” He leans forward and places his forehead against mine. “And it feels like home.” 

He kisses my forehead. I close my eyes and lean into his embrace. “Now, I’m home,” he says. 

I open my eyes and look into his. My heart brimming with emotion. A million words pass between us, everything we went through; all the pain and anger, all our love and passion. I caress his cheek and he tilts his head further into my hand. 

I’ve never been to the forest before but I know, deep in my soul, that I am home too. I smile with tears filling my eyes. “We’re both home.”

He kisses me. Our lips brush against each other eagerly, expressing all the things we can’t say. His hands flutter against my neck, guiding my face against his. I relax, letting peace take over my whole being. I kiss him back, thanking the Great Mother that we are together. 

After a moment, he pulls back. “Looks like you have some learning to do now, ocean girl.”

“Being Omaticaya can’t be that hard,” I scoff at him playfully. 

He reaches around and flicks my tail. I swat at him. “Hey!”

“That won’t do you much good here,” he smirks at my wide tail. “You’ll be like a baby, not knowing what to do.”

I swat his arm again. “I will not, forest boy.”  

He laughs. The laugh comes deep from within his gut, a hearty laugh that warms my heart and makes me forget all the dark things that lead me here. He stops and looks at me. 

“Good thing you’ll have such a great teacher.” He brushes his shoulder arrogantly. 

I roll my eyes. “Oh, whatever.” 

He laughs again, happiness coating his features as he watches me. An animal chirp floats through the air. A spike of curiosity shots through me. I look at Neteyam and arch my eyebrow before taking off into the forest. 

“Ocean girl!” He calls after me. “Wait up!”

I laugh again, feeling the solid ground beneath my feet and seeing the green leaves from far above me. My new home. I inhale the sweet air as I run deeper into the forest. It reminds me of flying on Nete’s ikran. It feels like freedom and pure peace. 

“Woooo!” I cheer. Birds fly off from a nearby tree but I don’t slow down. 

“Yea!” Neteyam calls in return from behind me. 

We continue running through the trees. Eager to explore our new home. Excited to spend all the time we have together. I smile so hard, my cheeks feel sore. We’ll discover all there is to see in the forest and then we’ll move on. 

I turn back and see Neteyam watching the treetops as he runs behind me. There’s a calmness in his stature, one that I’ve never seen before but it fills me with certainty. We are exactly where we are supposed to be: together.

Funeral scene:

That's it!!! Thank you for all the love and support I've received on Secret Cove.

I know a lot of you guys didn't want Neteyam to die but I had a vision for this piece where ocean girl and forest boy would be together with Eywa (I'm sorry if that's depressing or a bad ending, it's just the idea I had)

ALSO PLEASE SEND SUBMISSIONS! I want to keep writing so let me know what you guys want to read. I'll post some happier Neteyam stuff soon :) Thanks again

[nin3kyuu]

ehehehehe

She got overwhelmed

[inkedcitruses]

Spider and Quaritch

I wished they gave us more bonding content i want my rekindling family fluff

[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