Reader Insert - Blog Posts

☆.｡.:*The All Fic Masterlist.｡.:*☆

Hello everyone! Figured I should make one of these since I plan to flood this place with all of my nonsense! Will update is I write more! So please feel free to ask me if you have any requests for x reader! I'll also right any pairings you like, except Quaritch, he belongs to reader >:)))

🔄 - ongoing

✅ - completed

🔞 - adult only content - mostly pertaining to smut - MINORS DON'T YOU DARE

🌸 - family friendly, hand holding, fluff, romance no smut, platonic etc.

PERMANENT TAG LIST: Here

Else please leave a comment on the relevant fic you specifically want to be pinged for :)

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MILES QUARITCH.｡.:*☆

🔄🔞 The Lie of Providence - Recom/Na'vi Miles Quaritch x Sully! Female! Na'vi Reader

🔄🔞Revenant - Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Wife! Reader

✅ 🔞To Ask so Casually - Recom! Na'vi Colonel Miles Quaritch x Recom! Female! Na'vi Reader

✅ 🔞What Do I Tell My Friends Family? - Human/Recom Miles Quaritch x Sully! Female! Na'vi Reader

✅🌸Red Rivers Run Deep - Human Miles Quaritch x Human! Female! Reader

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JAKE SULLY.｡.:*☆

✅🔞Hold My Hand and Never Let Go - Jake Sully x Omatikaya! Female! Na'vi Reader

✅🔞Scorching - Jake Sully x Female! Na'vi Reader

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TSU'TEY.｡.:*☆

✅🔞Where'd You Learn That? - Tsu'tey x Female! Human! Reader

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NETEYAM SULLY.｡.:*☆

✅🌸Resplendent- Neteyam Sully x Female! Metkayina! Na'vi Reader

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AO'NUNG.｡.:*☆

✅🌸 - Jealousy? You Wear it Well - Ao'nung x Omatikayan! Sully! Female! Na'vi Reader

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What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 5

word count: 2661

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

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

<previous chapter> | 5 | <next chapter>

Snoring.

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

You smile to yourself. He is delectably warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As my mate commands.”

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

“Hmm, serious are we?”

“Hurry up and fuck me Miles…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Miles…thank you…”

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

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

---

Tag list: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @lvangel98, @rsclopez, @onlyreadz @manymaria111, @kristeen31xxx @mechformers @olivia-the-weirdo @essenceinpink @villirios @rededfoxy @brutecuteness @perseny @fandom-garbage @ttreader @hihhasotherfixations @angel-of-silver369 @royallaufeyson @saltedcoffeescotch @the-hufflebird-girl

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<previous chapter> | 5 | <next chapter>

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 4

word count: 8212

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

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

<previous chapter> | 4 | <next chapter>

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

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

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

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

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

“Miles?”

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

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

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

“I’ll be back.”

---

And so you wait.

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

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

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

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

You gasp.

It feels far too long since you saw him.

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

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

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

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

You place a kiss on Spider’s forehead.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey I don’t mean nothing by it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got a much better idea.”

---

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cupcake?”

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

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

---

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

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

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

“PASKALIN!!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong, Spider?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We go home.”

---

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

But then they see you and Spider.

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

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

“Who are these Dreamwalkers?”

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

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

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

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

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

Kiri moves from you, all smiles and teary eyed.

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

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

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

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

“[Y/N]…don’t tell me…”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Demon!” she spits venomously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“[Y/N]…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That…is your daughter’s mate…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Awkward.

It is so unbearably awkward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’dya wanna know, Sully?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eywa.”

Your mother makes an angry growl at that.

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sor—”

“DON’T YOU DARE APOLOGISE!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah well, he kinda disappeared.”

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

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

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

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

“In the flesh.”

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

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

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

“I understand…”

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

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

“I’d sooner die than hurt her.”

“Good. Then we finally agree on something.”

You father pulls back and holsters his blade.

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

“Yes sir.”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you too, Dad.”

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

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

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

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

“Dad please. You’re rambling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

MFW I thought this was a oneshot:

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

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<previous chapter> | 4 | <next chapter>

22 Pandora Street - Na'vi! Quaritch x Sully! Reader

Author's Notes: I made this instead of sleeping. Instead of writing XD [Y/N] brings Quaritch to meet her Dad and Grandma. Couldn't use Neytiri cuz she'd have recognized him immediately lmao. Voices were synthed using an AI so sorry if they're a little rough. Kept Mo'at and ZDog using the OG dialogue.

@rsclopez look at the utter nonsense I have created!

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 3

word count: 7589

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

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

<previous chapter> | 3 | <next chapter>

It’s him.

It has to be him.

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

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

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

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

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

---

He hates it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All the way? Won’t that kill her?”

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

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

---

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

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

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

Oh no.

No, no, no.

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

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

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

You don’t believe him.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You’re impossible!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ENOUGH”

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

He looks to the General, and she is pissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

[Y/N]…

[Y/N]…

[Y/N]…

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

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

Sleep takes him before he even realises.

---

Quaritch opens his eyes with a start.

White.

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

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

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

A voice then, interrupts his struggling.

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

“My son…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Language.”

He rolls his eyes at the reprimand.

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

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

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

“Wait, did you say Na’vi?”

---

And then, nothing.

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

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

The minty feeling brings some relief.

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

In image of you flashes in his mind.

‘[Y/N]???’

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

He runs out the room without finishing that thought.

---

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

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

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

“[Y/N]…I’m so sorry darling…”

---

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

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

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

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

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

Did he bring you here? Where exactly is here?

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

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

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

You break eye contact and scramble for the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah…that’s right.”

You kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immediately he’s back at you.

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

“That feel good?”

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

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

You can’t help but smile at the attention.

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfect,” he hums.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not on your life, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me! Tell me how good it feels!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, husband?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you believe him.

---

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

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

It's a work in progress ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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

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<previous chapter> | 3 | <next chapter>

What Do I Tell My Friends Family?

Word count: 5086

Pairing: HUMAN Miles Quaritch x Female NA'VI Reader Tags/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, rare pairing, possibly dark content, smut, adult themes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, lust, older man x younger woman, under age reader (16), degradation, nsfw, dubious consent, dirty talk, orgasm, orgasm denial, foul language, choking, vaginal fucking

Author's Note: This came to me in a day dream. Listening to this song. Set in the same idea I have for Lie of Providence, where you're able to communicate with the spirit of Quaritch in a Dream. Though it's a bit different there. Won't be included in LoP. Have kept reader's appearance vague in some parts so imagine it as you will.

| 1 | <next chapter>

*by clicking keep reading you understood the contents there within*

You shouldn’t want this. You should not be feeling like this. Oh Great Mother, the shame is near unbearable. Yet you are powerless to stop yourself. You want him, this you know. He is a man. Not like the boys of the clan. Immature, stupid boys who know nothing. No, this is a man. You have no doubt he would treat you the way you deserve. Or perhaps, the ways in which you want to be treated.

It started as a childish crush; a flight of fancy. A silly little thing you were, developing feelings for a man you only see in a shared Dream. You enjoyed watching him flex those oh so strong arms, the expanding of that broad chest with each precious breath. Each movement deliberate, no energy wasted in the fluidity of his being. He was taller than you then.

But time passes and it brings with it changes you weren’t entirely expecting. Becoming taller than him at 17 was a given. You’re almost 7’5” now, and will surely keep growing till you’re at least your mother’s height. What you did not expect however, was the swell of your chest. The women of your tribe you notice, do not have such large breasts. They are small, extenuating their lithe form, the agile body of Huntresses. But here you stand, barely an adult, with tits bigger than your hands. Your hips are noticeably wider too.

As time made you older, so too did it make you bolder. You care not if his gaze meets yours as you shamelessly stare down at him when he trains. You openly watch him do any human ritual, especially when it involves him testing the limits of his physique. And you notice too, how his gaze lingers on you. His eyes travel up and down your form when he thinks you do not notice. You eat up the silent attention. You sure as shit weren’t getting it from the young boys of your tribe.

Sure, mother and father tried their best arranging future mates for you. But every meeting of the family, you seem to be the only one to notice the boys’ upturn sneer. To them, you were always a freak. Proportionally wrong. A half-breed.

Your friends tell you not to worry about it. Boys are stupid anyway and wouldn’t know a good thing even if Eywa herself was prostrated before them. Yet you can’t help the jealously that rips through your very blood when they speak of stolen kisses and secret rendezvous. They do not make tsaheylu, as that is sacred and meant for their future life mate, but that doesn’t stop them exploring their baser desires with equally eager boys. And as the days to weeks to months pass, the frustration of it all builds until you are bursting at the proverbial seams.

And when the dam finally breaks, so too does your rational thinking. You are sick of your feelings being rebuffed by these stupid, immature boys. And you are equally as sick of this bizarre dance you’ve entered with Quaritch. If his soul is going to share Dreams with you, and so blatantly eat you with his gaze, then by Eywa does he owes you some actual attention.

---

And so tonight you are going to put your plan into action. You adorn the least amount of beads and thread you possibly can, barely covering your nipples let alone the rest of your chest. You wear a loincloth with a thinner cut fabric in the back, it easily gets eaten into the swell of your ass. You’re sure Quaritch is going to like that, if his roaming eyes are anything to go by. The final touch are some pretty feathers in your hair which you let hang lose and un-braided. You take your ikran and fly somewhere else into the forest; you do not want to be disturbed this night and Eywa forbid your family asks about what you are wearing (or lack thereof).

You find somewhere suitable to lay your head for the night, the flattened top of a nearby tree. Your ikran makes themself comfortable elsewhere, far enough to give you privacy, but close enough to hear you call should you need them.

You sit on your haunches and take a big calming breath. You look up to clear sky. Eywa has blessed tonight with warm breezes and a dazzling display of stars. The forest is alight with bioluminescence and it brings you a sense of comfort. And with that, you lay yourself down and close your eyes.

---

The Dreamscape too, it would seem, has taken the shape of Night. As you have hoped, you are immediately in a Human settlement. You think it is perhaps Hell’s Gate, but something is different. You cannot tell, but it feels different. No matter. These are irrelevant details. You are here on a mission.

You let pure instinct guide you into and through a building. You are drawn to him and he to you. Finding him is never difficult. As you traverse the halls, you are thankful you do not have to bend as to not hit the ceiling, though were you fully grown it would probably be a problem. You immediately stop in front of a door. He’s in this room. You take a moment to steel your resolve. You do not want to back out now. Not when you’ve already come this far. You take a deep breath, then press button on the side.

---

Quaritch finds it strange. To know oneself is dead. To be a wondering soul, bound to The All Mother. To say he was surprised to learn she was indeed real, would be an unprecedented understatement. Yet she does not speak to him. But he can feel her influence wherever he wonders. Most surprising though, is You.

By Eywa’s grace, the two of you keep sharing Dream spaces. He’s sure you’re not dead though your spirit visits him often. And he’s also sure of one other thing; you must be sweet on him. Never in his waking life, and apparent afterlife, would he have foreseen something like this. A savage girl, the daughter of the traitor Jake Sully, developing a crush on him.

It was cute at first. When you were small. But you’re not a child anymore. And he has, to his disgust and pleasure, taken notice. He thinks of the way you tease him, swaying your hips with purpose when you jog ahead so as to walk in front of him. That damn tail flicking whichever way to draw his attention. When you puff out your chest when you show him how good you’ve become with bow and arrow. Oh yes, he’s sure you’re doing this shit on purpose. And you stare! You openly stare, and when he catches you, you don’t even try to hide it. The audacity of it all.

He’s not even sure if you’re considered an adult by your people’s standards. He never once cared to learn about the filthy natives’ culture. If he remembers correctly, you had mentioned to him last time he saw you that you were 16, coming on 17. You were complaining about some dumb teenage boy in your clan. Something or rather about not finding you attractive. He let you vent your frustrations by manifesting an appropriate sized gun turret in the shared Dreamscape for you.

You mounted the machine without hesitation, and shot at nothing in particular. Your frusted yells drowned out by the loud rhythmic expulsion of bullet rain. And while you had your cute little moment, he watched as your supple body jiggled and bounced oh so wonderfully.

It’s wrong, he knows it. To lust after such a young teenage girl. But you’re not exactly human.  

He rubs the back of his neck frustratedly; doesn’t even notice he’s manifested himself in his old quarters, a place of comfort.

---

He tries to clear his mind. Think of something, anything else. But it all comes back to you. Fuck you’re a God damn tease. A succubus sent by Eywa to torture him. God dangling a piece of Eden in front of him, just out of reach.

What he wouldn’t give to bury himself deep into that pretty little cunt of yours, a hand grabbing fistfuls of your hair as you cry out in pain and pleasure. He wants to leave pretty purple bruises up and down your skin. Mementos he hopes you carry out with you into the waking world. He wants every one of those pathetic teenage boys to know who you really belong to. Show them how a real man lays claim to what’s his. Typical savages having no fucking taste. There’s a tent in his pants now, and he’s about to reach in and relieve himself when the sound of the door sliding open catches his attention.

Speak of the Devil and so shall She appear.

When the door opens you stop yourself in the door way. There he is, standing in the centre of the room. He’s wearing that black singlet you love so much; the entirety of his arms are exposed as well as part of that divine broad chest. The giant window ceiling lets in the natural light of the night awash the room in gentle moonlight.

You’re blushing hard, you can feel the heat spread up from your neck and dust your cheeks. There is a gentle heat forming between your legs as you keep staring.

“Well hey there Sweetheart. Now aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes…” Quaritch is the first to break the silence. His eyes start from your face, and slowly he rakes it down to your loin cloth and back up to face; not before lingering on your chest you notice.

“Now you didn’t have to get all dressed up pretty for lil’ old me—or should I say, dressed down?” You smile shily, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. “Come closer darlin’, let me get a good look at’cha.” He’s smirks at you mischievously.

You obey without thinking and step into the room to stand before him, the door shuts behind you instantly with a quiet swoosh.

When you’re this close, the height difference is a bit more apparent. His head height is perfectly situated at your breasts.

He hums approvingly, then gestures behind him for you to take a seat on the bed. When you, he standing in front of you, arms crossed on his chest. You bite your lip noticing the bulge of his biceps, your tail flicks excitedly behind you. He chuckles when he notices.

“Now tell me, [Y/N]—” it takes a great deal of willpower to stop the whine threatening to escape your throat when he says your name in that delicious accent. You audibly inhale. “—what exactly is it, that you think you’re doing Sweetheart?”

You decide you to feign ignorance. It is far too embarrassing to simply come out and say it. You want him to say it; want him to be the one to admit it first. He wants you just as much as you want him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Colonel,” you see the slight tense in his arms when you address him by his title; ‘oh he definitely likes that’. You place your hands in your lap, lightly squeezing your breasts together with your arms. You see his eyes shift down to stare at your cleavage, you can feel your nipples teasing through the bare fabric. He licks his teeth and you inwardly shudder at the action.

“Oh ho, I think you do, you little fucking tease. Now what I’m wondering is, does your Dear ol’ Pa know you’re here? Presenting yourself in front of the enemy like that.” Quaritch bends forward so he’s eye level with you. “I wonder how disappointed he’d be right now. Guess his sweet little [Y/N] ain’t so innocent after all, huh?”

“I do not want to talk about my Father right now Quaritch,” you huff at him frustratedly. You don’t want to think about your family right now, that’d be a sure-fire way to kill the mood before it’s even begun.

“Oh? Then, what is is that you want to do, [Y/N]?”

“You know exactly why I’m here Quaritch…” you avert your eyes, too embarrassed to make extended eye contact. You don’t see him lean closer, moving to the side of your head to whisper directly into your ear.

“Come now you’re a big girl [Y/N]. Why don’t you use your big girl words? Be a good girl, and tell the Colonel what it is that you want?” You audibly whimper. He moves to the front of your face again, grabbing your chin in his hand, forcing your face forward.

“Now I’ll ask again—What is it that you want hm? What is your plan here?”

“Eyes on me baby,” your ears perk forward at the new moniker, eyes immediately fixed on him. Oh Great Mother this man is going to break you.  

“I—I—want…”

“SAY IT.”

“You! My plan! You were my p-plan! It is you that I want! Please Colonel!” You all but yell when he commands you. You squeeze your eyes shut, the shame and embarrassment too much after such a declaration.

You hear Quaritch hum approvingly and can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Well, aren’t you just sweet?”

His lips crash onto yours suddenly. Both of his hands are on either side of your head, holding you firmly in place. He doesn’t move at first, testing to see your reaction. When he feels you tilt slightly to one side and gently push up into him, he deepens the kiss. You’re a mess of teeth, saliva and tongue. Hot breath mingling in each other’s mouths. By Eywa does he taste divine. Better than anything you could have possibly imagined. Heat pools at the base of your belly. The tiny flicker of a flame come to life. You stupidly wonder if the boys of your clan are even a fraction as skilled as he.

“I can feel ya thinkin’ about something you shouldn’t be, naughty minx.” He says when he breaks away from you. He pushes your collar bone forcefully enough for you to fall back onto the bed with an oof. You lean up on your elbows to look at him at the foot of the bed, your legs planted firmly on the ground.

He uses his legs to kick apart your legs and stands in the space between.

“Let me clear that pretty little head of yours…”

He leans onto the bed, presses his right thigh firmly against your sex, his hands are on your hips holding you in place. A pleasured gasp escapes you, the sudden unexpected feeling of pleasure sparks from your core through your entire body.

Satisfied that you won’t move, you can feel him move his hands up the expanse of your body, thumbs pressing into you as he traces the stars painting your skin. Upward he travels till he reaches your chest. Your breasts are exposed to the open are, your meagre coverings having fallen wayside when he pushed you back before.

He delicately traces the glowing pattern of one breast, before he gives you a gentle squeeze.

“Hmmm~” you murmur at the feeling, warmth pooling at the precipice of your legs. He grabs you, one in each hand, and starts kneading you firmly. The rough callouses of his palm causing delicious friction upon your nipples. He feels them peak into his hands and squeezes you tighter.

You can’t help but moan. You’ve never been touched like this at all by anyone else. It feels nothing like when you do it yourself. No, this is so much better.

He swings his left leg over you, resting on your side, his right leg presses harder onto your cunt as he leans forward. He kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth; immediately seeking you out to fight for dominance. You feel the slick of your cunt coat your loin cloth.

He breaks the kiss to plant kisses on the underside of your jaw. Slowly he starts licking the dots there, tracing down your neck, and he sucks hard on the flesh there, catching the skin between his teeth. At the same time he pinches both your nipples between his forefinger and thumb roughly.

“Fuck!” You exclaim loudly, the pleasure in your body starting to burn. Each nerve is set alight in pleasured brilliance. You body demands more friction, so you rub your greedy clothed pussy up and down his thick muscular thigh, drenching his pants leg in your juices.

“Aww is that all for me? Well ain’t you just a peach,” Quaritch teases you when he feels the wetness upon his leg. He looks down and inspects the darkening hicky on your neck. Satisfied with his work, and continues to leave more on either side of your neck. Not content yet, he starts leaving them along your collar bone. All the while you grace him with the sing-song of your voice, openingly moaning in pleasured ecstasy at his ministrations.

You feel his hands vacate your chest, his leaves a wet trail as he traces his tongue along one swell. He gives your nipple an experimental lick causing you to make the cutest mewl. And when he takes your whole nipple into his mouth and starts sucking like a starving man, you can’t help the profanity that escapes your lips.

You push harder against his leg, enjoying the feeling of his strong muscles rub against your neglected clit. The pleasure from your cunt and tits pool together in your belly. A gentle coil of a promise starting to form. The build up stops suddenly when Quaritch moves his leg from your sacred conjunction. But before you can even complain, you watch as he moves his entire body lower until his face is between your legs.

Your embarrassment is renewed tenfold. You lay your head back and cover your face with both hands; too bashful to watch what’s about to happen. You aren’t completely ignorant, your friends made sure of that, sparing no detail of their escapades.

You obey his command, pushing yourself up on your elbows to stare down at the man poised at your nether region.

Quaritch laughs quietly at your display of embarrassment. He unties your loincloth with ease. When he takes in the sight of you, he cant help but suck in a large breath through clenched teeth. The stars painted on your cunt glow brightly in the moon light, the nectar of your arousal flows freely from your slit. A Waterfall of Eden before him.

“Now that just won’t do Sweetheart. Eyes on me, I wanna see those pretty eyes while I eat this pretty pussy.”

He nods approvingly and lowers himself once more, his eyes never break contact with you.

You inhale sharply when you feel him flatten his tongue against your slick, giving your slit one long slow lick up and over your clit.

Louder and louder you moan, there is no need to keep quiet here; there is only the two of you blanketed in soft moonlight.

He presses his hands into the groves of your hips to hold you down as he gets to work eating you out proper. Up and down he licks between your folds, sucking on your clit finally, in between. He cleans you up good, drinking deep of your honeyed nectar you so graciously give him.

He listens to every keen, mewl and moan. When the pleasure becomes too much you’re on the flat of your back once more, eyes closed in blissful ecstasy. Each hard suck on your clit pulls tight the coil in your core, the fire burning brighter with each passing moment.

And just when the tension on your belly threatens to snap in glorious orgasm, suddenly the feeling stops completely. Quaritch having ceased his ministrations.

“Delicious, thank you for the meal.”

You whimper unabashedly, tears threatening your eyes as you look down at him with a confused lidded look.

“So sorry Sweetroll, but the first time your cumming is going to be on my cock; no exceptions.”

You watch with bated breath as he undoes the belt around his waist. Eagerly does he free his throbbing cock from the confines of his pants. He’s already so fucking hard as he starts slowly pumping himself. He sees you bite your bottom lip as you drink in the sight of him. You lick your lips eagerly.

He feels himself twitch in his hand at the thought of you on your hands and knees as he throat fucks you till your insides are raw. But he’ll save that for another time. Right now the sweet musk of your cunt is beckoning him, and nothing is going to stop him answering the call.

He gathers some of your nectar to spread up and down his member, before he lines himself up with your entrance.

He looks down at you, eyes meeting yours.

“You ready baby? I don’t think I can be gentle,” you nod in response. He rubs his thick tip up and down your slick, gathering more of your nectar. When he finds our entrance, he slowly pushes in just the tip, gauging your reaction. Your eyes close as pleasure assaults every nerve of your body. You feel your cunt immediately drench, excited at the prospect of being utterly fucked full. He can’t help it, seeing your face like that, hearing you sing like that? His resolve all but shatters. In one fell fluid motion he pushes all of himself in up until the hilt, meeting no resistance.

The suddenness of him, feeling his long hard cock stuff the entirety of your pussy, you can’t help the scream that rips itself from your throat. There is a pleasure you didn’t think possible, but also a dull pain from the sudden stretch. You can feel the hairs of his crotch brush against your clit. He isn’t moving though, waiting for you to adjust to this new feeling.

“[Y/N]…Can I?” He’s trying to ask if he can move in between laboured breath. You nod almost immediately. The dull pain nothing you can’t handle.

“P-please move Quaritch,” you beg and he hums in response. You feel him lift both your legs, holding them up at the knees. He pulls out slowly till the tip, then slams back into you.

“Aaah!” You yell in pleasure at the friction gracing your inner walls. Quaritch takes in one deep breath, and he starts pumping into you with all the force he can muster. He is not gentle. He leans over your body, pushing your legs up and apart, granting easier access to your welcoming cunt.

It’s all too much, all too good. The pleasure is insurmountable. Touching yourself will never bring you pleasure like this. Each time he slams back into you, he crashes against your throbbing clit; lightning sparks through your veins, each nerve ending singing a chorus of pleasure, your body is burning in the flames of desire.  

You feel the coil tightening; the build-up of orgasm approaching far quicker than you anticipated.

“Fuck—fuck you feel so good baby,” Quaritch starts praising you. Despite the size disparity, you are tight, perfect, made just for him.

You can’t answer him with words, the only sounds escaping your swollen lips are sing-song moans. It strokes his ego something deep, to see you like this; folded in half, hair framing your face like a [h/c] halo, your face dusted in deep blush. And oh, the faces you make. You can’t be this cute. It should be illegal. If this was Earth, it would be illegal.

But he’s not on Earth. And you’re not Human. Such delicate sensibilities don’t apply out here 4 light years away. Besides. Eywa presented you before him oh so generously, and it would just be impolite to refuse such a gift.

“Q-Quaritch—I’m—” You can’t seem to get the words out, your orgasm approaching without mercy. He knows it though. The squeezes of your drenched cunt warning him. But he’s not ready for you to cum yet. He’s got one more little thing he wants to do.

“Don’t you dare cum [Y/N], you hear me? That’s an order,” he doesn’t relent his pace, the bastard. You close your eyes tight, trying through sheer force of will not to cum.

“Y-yes Sir,” he all but growls the moment you call him that, and you can’t help but smile cheekily. You feel his pace slow to deliberate thrusts. He doesn’t say anything but you feel his hands remove themselves from your legs and hear him fidget with something. You open your eyes in time to see him brandishing his belt in hand.

“Now hold still darling,” he instructs as he, without question, ties the belt around your neck, wrapping the leather around his left hand in tight coils.

“Do you trust me?” he asks as he smirks down at you. Your hand traces the belt around your neck, and your eyes meet his. You stare deep into those blue pools; he is brimming with lust, desire, and something so much deeper. You can’t explain it, but you trust this man with every fibre of your being.

“Yes…I trust you,” You give him the sweetest smile you can muster, and hold your left hand. He threads the fingers of his right hand through yours.

He picks up his pace, returning once again to that brutal pace before. He thrusts and hard as he can, pounding into your cunt with all the strength he has.

“Yesyesyesyes!” You chant eagerly, feeling your orgasm build up for the third time. Without warning, Quaritch pulls on the belt. It tightens around your neck, cutting off your oxygen.

Your eyes widen in sudden panick, reasling you can barely draw in any air. And that feeling, the leather as it bites into the skin of your neck, the tightness in your chest at the lack of air, it is delicious. Your cunt squeezes unabashedly around Quaritch and he huffs with a smirk.

He lets go of your hand then, you bring it up to your throat, grabbing the belt to try and relieve some of the tension.

“No you fucking don’t—!” Quaritch pulls tighter, and with his now free hand, grabs a hold of your tail—and pulls.

Your shut your eyes at the pleasure, tears falling freely down your face. Drool seeps from the corner of your mouth hanging open. No sound escapes your parted lips.

“Such a good girl, you take my cock so well [Y/N]! No one will ever fuck you like I do! Don’t you ever forget that, you God damn hear me?”

You are unable to form any words, the only sound you can muster is a strained moan. Good enough for him.

“That’s it baby—FUCK—Take it all of me like the slut that you are. Throwing yourself at those boys, knowing full well you belong to ME!”

That does it.

The coil in your belly snaps violently, your pussy grabbing his cock in a tight vice as your orgasm wracks your body in glorious ecstasy. You ride the high for all you’re worth. The only sound your able to make is a quiet choke as you struggle to breath, eyes rolling back into your head.

Black spots appear along your vision from the lack of air. But you don’t care, your cunt is still cumming and hard, gushing relentlessly, bathing Quaritch in your heavenly nectar.

You feel his thrusts falter as you continue to squeeze him without mercy. And after a few final pumps, he cums with a load growl. He’s coating your slick walls in his hot seed. He pumps a few more times into you weakly, his hold on the be belt slackens, rewarding you with glorious air once more. You gasp greedily, taking in long slow breathes.

You lay there for a time. Drenched in all manner of bodily fluids. The smell of sex permeates your senses, and you blush, embarrassed suddenly by the activities. You feel Quaritch slowly pull his softened cock from you, the feeling of his cum slowly seeping from your slit giving you a dull pleasure.

Your hole feels utterly abused, but the pain throbs pleasurably, you find you don’t mind the feeling. You feel Quaritch untie and remove the belt from your neck. He hums approvingly at the bruise left in its wake and plants a kiss to your sensitive skin.

He moves up over your jaw to your lips, planting soft kisses along the way.

He kisses you deeply, you can taste yourself on his lips and it almost reignites the fire within you.

When he finally pulls away from the kiss, he’s staring down at you. There is something unreadable in his expression. He opens his mouth to speak. But when you blink, he’s gone.

The room is gone.

Instead, your eyes are greeted with the blinding light of morning; your senses suddenly assaulted with the burgeoning life of the day.

You sit up and immediately notice your clit is sensitive. You smile to yourself; your body must have cum while you dreamt. You stand and stretch, feeling utterly refreshed. You feel a bit bad leaving so suddenly, but that was out of your control. You’ll be sure to apologise in the next Dream.

You call for your ikran, and make the short journey back home. You are trying very hard to remember to wipe the stupid grin from your face. You make your way back to the family nest in the trees, grabbing the extra garments you hid near where you leave your ikran.

Everyone in your family is awake already. You can hear the sound of idle chatter and the smell of breakfast hits your nose. Good, you are practically starving. You don’t bother trying to be quiet as you make your way up. Just as you pull yourself up and onto the platform, it is your brother Lo’ak who addresses you first.

“Ahhh look who finally decided….to…” his voice trails off when he looks up to you.

“What the—WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR NECK?!” Kiri yells as she immediately stands up and rushes over to you, cold hands immediately on you, turning you this way and that.

Your neck?

Oh.

OH!

Oh no…

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Author's Note: Thanks for reading!!! Hope it was to your liking! Apologies for any mistakes. It's 1am and I have working in the morning lmao TwT

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The Lie of Providence - Chapter 5 - Paths

word count: 2698

Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: family bonding

“blue text” is spoken Na'vi. ‘Italics’ are thoughts.

[previous chapter] | 5 | [next chapter]

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When you and father return to the village, you find Mo’at already awake and preparing for her duties of the day.

“Mo’at, I must speak with you urgently.” Jake addresses her almost immediately.

“Good morning to you too ma Jake, ma [Y/N].” She chides him playfully, unawares of how serious he is. You greet her softly.

“Good morning Grandmother…” Her focus is immediately on you. She studies your face; that downcast gaze, the faint streaks left by tears.

“Come.” She commands and you two follow her into an unoccupied healer tent. She gestures you two to sit and she secures the entrance closed.

“Speak of your troubles.”

Once again you go through the motions of your nightmare. Again your tongue is held steadfast against mentions of the Human. You do not cry this time, far too drained now. When you are finished speaking you exhale deeply. Grandmother is quiet as she sits in front of you, studying you. Your father nervously shifts his gaze from you to her and back. He opens his mouth to speak but she swiftly lifts a hand to silence him, gaze never faltering from you.

Without a word she rises from her spot and swiftly leaves the tent. You look to your father confused, but he merely shrugs; equally baffled. Quickly she returns though, bringing with her a bowls, tools, and a satchel no doubt filled with various powders and plants.

She works without uttering a single word. She alights the small fire pit in the center of the tent space. You welcome the gentle heat as it washes away the morning chill. Your father moves to sit closer to you, putting a comforting arm around your shoulder as the two of you watch Mo’at work.

You watch with keen interest as she grinds dried plants into fine powders, quietly chanting as she does. She pulls the bone from her necklace and holds out her free hand expectantly to you. You understand immediately and offer a hand. She pricks a finger, putting a drop of your blood into her concoction. She grabs a handful of the powder and throws it upon the fire.

The flames roar to life suddenly, a dazzling dance of reds and purples awash the tent. You look at your arms and marvel as the colours are reflected perfectly in your pale tones. You wonder if other colours would dance so wonderfully on your skin too. Mo’at’s prayers are louder now as she gestures this way and that, a dance known only to her as Tsahik. Suddenly the fire burns dark red, bolder than fire should be, and immediately dies without warning. Mo’at gasps and inhales deeply.

She sits back on her haunches, hands folded in her lap.

“The Great Mother has spoken. She speaks of fire and brimstone. Of great shadows darkening the sky. The seas painted red with spilt blood. Of villages burning, our people dying. Of betrayal, vengeance, wrath…”

She looks up from the dead flames to meet your eyes.

“She speaks of you. A warning. Many paths lay before you. She did not reveal them to me. Only that you must choose the right one.”

You gulp. All of that sounded more ominous than helpful. In fact, the right path? What does that even mean? How are you supposed to know? What if you choose wrong? What then? Will you be the reason people die and villages burn?? Your suddenly filled with anxiety, such thoughts becoming too taxing for a 12-year-old girl.

“Hey Mo’at that’s enough! You’re scaring her!” Your father yells when he notices your laboured breath. There words become heated but you do not hear. Static fills your ears as you stare at your open palms.

You’re suddenly filled with a desire to see the Human. That cold gruff man. He’s been a constant in your life for many years now. Oh, you left him on that cliff. You hope he finds his way back to the waking world or where ever he comes from.

And before any of you realise it, you unwillingly fall into the embrace of darkness.

---

Miles Quaritch considers himself a sensible sort. Tough on his men, tougher on his opponents. Values loyalty above all else. Does not question authority, and does himself expect not to be questioned. That first day on Pandora, she made one thing very clear; this is not your home, and you do not make the rules here.

He wears his scars proudly, a reminder of what’s out there. Not just the animals and plants, but those savages too. Anything with a pulse is trying to kill you. Anything without a pulse can kill you too. But they have a job to do. Orders are orders and one way or another, they are going to get to that damn deposit of unobtainium.

The Avatar Program. What a fucking joke. Waste of time as far as he is concerned. Would be easier just to smoke out all the natives by force and blow the damn tree up. Minimal casualties of course, but such things are unavoidable. He suddenly wonders if you live in that big tree.

Urgh. He hates that he suddenly thought of you. Some native kid inhabiting a dream. He doesn’t like the lucid dreams. They feel far too real for his liking. He’d really like Jake to hurry the fuck up so he can be done with this planet and be on the next shuttle outta here. He can’t help his mind however, recalling the first time he had seen you. Jesus Christ you scared the shit outta him, looking like a damn ghost what with that pale skin and all. Turns out you were just a bratty kid who followed him everytime he dreamt these past few months.

He wonders then though, if his mind was playing tricks on him last time he dreamt of you. You looked, almost bigger? He’s not sure anymore. The low gravity of this planet must be fucking with his head and he can’t stand it. He sighs as he rubs a hand down his face. He’d love nothing more than to leave right now. Paz looks ready to pop anytime soon and he’d prefer if the boy was born on his real home planet, not this God forsaken moon. This was no place to raise a son.

Although he and Paz weren’t in a relationship per say, he knows he needs to do right by her and their son. So begrudgingly here he stays, following through with orders to the best of his ability, to ensure a future for his son, and to ensure he has a home to go back to once this is all over.

---

 Months pass and yet still you do not return to the shared dream. For this you are grateful as you have yet to experience another nightmare. You would be saddened to have not seen your human companion were this not the norm though; to go so long without another shared dream.

It might even take another year before he makes an appearance. But that is a worry for future you. Present day you has thought long and hard about Eywa’s less than straight forward answers. But as luck would have it, you have come up with a sort of plan.

As you recall, Eywa spoke of many paths to be laid before you, choosing the right one a crucial step toward the future. You wondered then, if perhaps this was hence tied to your future place in the clan; something not yet set in stone either.

Being the first born of Olo'eyktan, you had many choices in your future role to the clan, Leader of course being one of them. Alternatively, you could tutelage under Grandmother to become future Tsahik. This was once your mother’s destiny, but the war with the Sky People passed lead her instead down the path of the Warrior, to which she has since thrived. She is a remarkable huntress too, and you would be honoured to learn from her; another path you could choose.

There were also the Gatherers, experts in cultivating the land and foraging, making sure to take only what is needed to never upset the great balance. You could study craftmanship – becoming an expert in textiles, or one day having the privilege of using the Mother Loom. You could become a Clan Singer, studying under Ninat and learning the songs to bring joy around the cooking fires, or the prayers that are sung to honour the dead.

With so many ways you could fit into the clan, your genius idea was then to do it all.

Oh yes. You were going to study everything. Every last job afforded to you, you would give everything that you are and then some. Surely there could be no wrong path if you took EVERY path!

With this in mind you approach your parents and grandparent with the idea. Mo’at is apprehensive, becoming Tsakarem was a life long commitment. But as it would stand she doesn’t currently have anyone under her tutelage, so she relents. She places a condition though; were she to see a sign from Eywa regarding your future as Tsahik, she would end the training were it not to please the Great Mother. You agree wholeheartedly.

And so begins your training under dearest Grandmother.

And by the Great Mother is it exhausting. But equally as exhilarating. There is a thought in the back of your mind too, that if you can become one who interprets the Will of Eywa, there is the chance that your own future, and the dreams that may yet lie within, could become clearer to you. You could gain a better understanding of it all. Maybe.

Every morning then, you awaken before majority of the clan, and listen dutifully as Mo’at explains everything she does, and the reasons therein. She speaks of Eywa’s influence in the world around you, look for signs, the things others may not yet see. How she interprets these things. The rites that a Tsahik must perform for her people, the plants you use, the painting patterns, which paints to use and the colours and their meanings. There is even order in the burning powders for rituals and rites alike. It is a lot to take in. But you drink it up as though you are starved.

And when the sun approaches its zenith, you spend your time with Mother, she teaches you the ways of hunting. How to track the great beasts of Pandora, how to stealth through the forest but leave no trace behind. She begins teaching you to use a bow, and you and her are surprised to find you are remarkably proficient. She praises you greatly, and the two of you laugh over stories of how much she struggled to teach your father the very same weapon.

When the sun first kisses the horizon, you then spend time with Ninat, learning how to control your voice. Breathing exercise. How to hold notes and expanding your range. She tells you that you have a good voice, and will no doubt sing beautifully with time; if your own mother’s voice is anything to go by. With that in mind, you practice your singing in the evenings when Neytiri sings her personal songcord.

Your days are never the same though. Though each morning will always be spent with Tsahik, some afternoons you spend with father, he appoints himself to teach you the way of the Warrior. How to fight. And more importantly, how to wield a knife. Though he’s not ready to give you a proper blade yet, you are given a blunt wooden carving of one. Technique is of the most importance. The stances and body movements he teaches you, are Human techniques.

He appoints Tarsem, a young but extremely wise Warrior to teach you the native style of the clan. He hopes a broaden fighting style with multiple perspectives will keep you that much safer in the future.

Other evenings are spent with some of the Gatherers as they prepare food for the clan with the Hunters. You learn how to carve meat from bone, which parts of animals are for eating, the rest for healing or craftsmanship. There are some days where you join them out the forest, learning which plants are safe and which to avoid wholeheartedly. Which herbs mix well together, and which when combined make absolute and utter chaos.

The only downside to this sudden busy schedule, is you find yourself with far less time than before to spend with your siblings. It weighs heavy on your heart; especially when you have to refuse their offers to play when you have lessons.

You do the best you can to make time here and there. You are free though, well after the evening meal, when the sky is dark and full of stars. You sit with them and tell them stories of your day, the struggles of your training, the joys of doing things right. There is a big smile that spreads upon your face, ear to ear, as you regale them, almost nary stopping to breathe.

Then there are your days of Rest. One must allow oneself to replenish the energy that is borrowed from Eywa. These are the days you visit Hells Gate to spend time with Uncle Norm and Max catching up on your goings on. Spider is of course there too, eating up everything you see, wishing he too could be a part of your training.  By the Great Mother if you somehow become Clan Leader you will make sure he becomes an official member, and anyone who disagrees will answer to you.

---

2 Years pass. You are 15 now, almost a young adult. Your training still continues, though only to hone your skills. One development however, is that at some point you ceased your training as future Tsahik. Instead, Mo’at has appointed Kiri to be her new Tsakarem. And at 11 years old Kiri is more than excited. Any chance she can commune with the Great Mother she takes it. It means she get so communicate with her Birth Mother, Grace; a surprising thing to learn.

Your parents had waited until the older children, everyone except Tuk, were old enough to understand the story. How they found Grace’s avatar body pregnant without explanation, in its stasis pod. And how Kiri came into the world a little miracle, one they graciously took into their family to raise as their own. Now Kiri sometimes visits Hells Gate with Lo’ak in tow, the two of them growing closer to Spider as the years passed. But also it gives her a chance to see her other Mother, to watch videos of her talking about her love for Eywa and this world.

---

Hold your breath. Steady aim. Do not pull too tightly. Exhale on release. No sudden movements. Aim carefully and—the yerik just so happens to look up and immediately spots you, instantly scurrying off before you can let loose an arrow.

You cuss, growly in frustration of it all. This is not the first time something like this has happened. You are sure of it now. Being this pale against the backdrop of the forest’s deep greens and blues, you must stand out something fierce.

“Calm, [Y/N]. These things happen.” Your mother says and puts a comforting hand upon your shoulder.

“Sorry. I know. It’s just—incredibly frustrating.”

“What is, my sweet atokirina?”

You gesture vaguely up and down your whole body.

“This. This is. It makes me stand out. I can’t hunt like this Mama. They see me so fast…”

“Then we must try other techniques. From higher in the trees, or—”

“It’s not just the animals Mother…”

The words slip out before you even think. Damn. This wasn’t something you wanted to necessarily talk about. At least not yet. It was awkward. It was uncomfortable. And most of all, heart breaking. Neytiri scowls, not liking the implication behind those words.

“What do you mean, [Y/N]?”

You sigh deeply. ‘Eywa give me strength’. And so you decide to tell your mother, about your first heartbreak.

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A/N: Once again I'd like to give thanks to everyone that has liked and or reblogged this story. It really means a lot and is great motivation to keep going! I know you all must be frothing for the promised quaritch x reader content and I thank you for your patience. I promise it is coming! I just really wanted to get some world building in there; really delve into you as the reader and where you come from. I am eager to hear your thoughts. Let me know how ya'll feel about pacing and whatever else have you!

Also once again I apologies for any grammatical errors.

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

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[previous chapter] | 5 | [next chapter]

The Lie of Providence - Chapter 4 - By Thy Father

word count: 1590

Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader A/N: A meaning conversation between Father and Daughter. Hope you like it! Remember to hmu if you'd like to be added to tag list. If I've left you off, it is by accident, so please let me know! As usual apologies for any grammatical errors!

"blue text" is spoken Na'vi. 'Italics' are thoughts.

<previous chapter> | 4 | <next chapter>

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Your sleep the next few days are restless. Though you do not return to the dream, the fear and anxiety alone kept slumber at bay. Neytiri is the first to notice your change in behaviour.

A mother is always watching, drinking in the splendour of her offspring. And something is indeed off with you. She decides to broach the topic to her husband.

“Ma Jake,” she catches him alone one evening, you and your siblings already asleep for the night; though not without great difficulty on your part.

“What’s up, babe?” Usually she would giggle to be addressed so in English, playfully hitting him for his silly behaviour, but tonight is not the night for flirting so she brushes it off.

“I fear something is wrong with [Y/N].” Neytiri’s ears pin back as she says this, looking into her beloved’s eyes. He can see the fear there, brewing. His own ears perk up in interest and anticipation, the ever-present flame inside to protect his family roaring to life.

“Tell me.”

“I have been watching and I have seen. These pass few days, she eats less, she smiles less. And when it is time to sleep, she fights to stay awake, like she is afraid. When she thinks no one is looking, her face, you can see sadness. Fear. But when I try to ask, she says she is fine. She smiles but it isn’t real. I do not like this Ma Jake…” her lips tremble slightly and immediately she’s pulled into a hug.

Jake rests his head on top of hers, planting a kiss to her hair. He gently sways back and forth, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she softly weeps.

“It’s okay, everything is gonna be okay…I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner,” he pulls back to wipe the tear stains with his thumbs. He cups her face and kisses her softly. He doesn’t pull away but rests his forehead against hers.

“It’s okay, I know you are busy. You are Olo'eyktan. You have many duties.”

“My duty is first and foremost to this family. And I’ll do whatever it damn well takes to keep you all safe.”

Neytiri smiles at him with an exasperated laugh, placing her hand over his.

“I know.”

---

It’s early morning in Pandora. The sun has only just broken the horizon, the golden yolk cascading across the sky. You left home before daybreak, needing somewhere quiet, somewhere you can be alone with your thoughts.

And so you took the short trek to the Tree of Souls. You round the back of the tree, resting upon its great trunk, curtained by its luminescent tendrils. You pull our knees up to your chest, fold your arms upon your knees, and rest your head therein. Your hair falls around you in golden splendour, damn still with the dewy diamonds of the morning shimmering in the morning glow.

Another dreamless sleep, yet restless all the same. The bags under your eyes are evident of that. You contemplate asking your Tsahik for guidance. Apprehension has stopped you thus far though; what if this was the Will of Eywa? You’re not sure how you’d feel about such an answer. What could you have done to deserve such suffering?

Your thoughts are interrupted by approaching footsteps. You tilt your head up to see your father approach and make himself comfortable beside you.

“Hey kid,” he greets you with a gentle smile, “you’re up early.”

You smile crookedly. “So are you.”

Jake smiles down at you and you put your head back into your arms. His casts downward as he thinks; he’s not sure how to broach this topic with you. But he sees what Neytiri sees; that brief moment of eye contact speaks volumes beyond words.

“Listen, [Y/N], your mother and I…We’re worried about you,” he starts off and puts an arm around you, pulling you into a side embrace. When you don’t say anything, he continues.

“You haven’t been eating properly. You don’t look as happy as you usually do. And you haven’t been sleeping properly either. What’s wrong kiddo? Tell your dear old Dad so he can make it better babygirl.”

You could almost cry from such words. But you are still afraid. Even if you do not dream, you still see those bleeding eyes. Red as blood, blacker than night. Even in your mind’s eye do they bore into your soul. Taking you apart piece by piece.

When you don’t say anything, you feel your father gently move your arms away and lift your head with both hands cradling your face. Glossy vermillion eyes meets that of lliquid gold. There is no judgement there. He is drenched in understanding. Your will shatters and you weep openly.

Instantly you are pulled into his lap, your head resting on his chest listening to rhythmic sound of his heartbeat. A strong heart. He rubs soothing patterns on your back as he holds you; gently shushing you with promised whispers of assurance. Your crying does eventually does subside, the catharsis of it all washing over you.

“Feel better?” You nod in response and move back to sit beside him, wiping the streaks from your face.

“You feeling up to tell me what’s been bothering you? Did something happen? Did…someone do something to you?”

You shake your head.

“No, no. No one did anything…But something did happen. You’ll probably think I’m crazy. Letting a dream—a nightmare make me feel like this.”

“[Y/N] I would never call you crazy, at least not to your face—” the jab is so unexpected he successfully rips a snort from you and you shove him playfully.

“Ha-ha you are so very funnyyyy” you droll at him.

“Heh, it worked didn’t it? Sorry don’t mean to derail. But I’m happy to see you smile, even just a little…I’m serious though [Y/N]; I won’t think you’re crazy. I’m your Dad, I love you unconditionally. And let’s not forget, this isn’t my original body? It’s a mix of Sky People, who I used to be, and Na’vi, which I now inhabit thanks to this here big ol’ magic spirit tree. Now that’s crazy to think about. So I promise sweetheart, you can talk to me about anything, and I won’t think you’re crazy.”

You smile and take a deep calming breath.

You explain to your father about the last dream you had. Something deep in you, rooted in the very core of your being, demands you omit your human companion. You speak of walking through the great forests of Pandora. The song of Eywa guiding you. You talk of coming upon the great Hometree of time passed. How it stood tall and proud, reverent are you to behold its splendour. You speak then, of the hook, the pain. To be pulled around and fall. The screaming till your throat hurts. Then suddenly having no mouth with which to scream.

And the eyes.

So many eyes.

They did not blink. Their gaze did not shift. Ever bleeding, so did they spread, the black sky awash in crimson. You speak of clawing your own skin in the dream, only to find the same marks marring your arms in the wake. You hid these carefully with wrappings, made it look as though you were simply adding to your clothing.

“It…it didn’t feel like a dream, Dad. It felt real. Like I was really there. Trapped. I couldn’t move I was so scared. And I couldn’t scream. All I could do was look back into those terrible eyes...” You wipe away a tear threatening to fall.

Jake is filled with trepidation. Initially he thought maybe you were upset about something simple, like the hardships you know you’ll face if you pursue being a hunter of the clan, or maybe you were just confused about where your place was in the clan. But this, something almost spiritual, he is unprepared for. He exhales a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, and places a comforting hand upon your back.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone, you must have felt so scared.”

You nod at his words.

“Listen, even back on Earth, people had scary dreams, nightmares even. Saw it a lot actually. You remember? I was a soldier, a warrior, back on Earth. And the fighting, the wars, it changes people. Lot of my brothers and sisters in arms spoke of seeing things they couldn’t explain. But it does help, if you talk to someone. Now, you obviously can talk to me, any time any place; just say the word.

Though I gotta be honest kid, I don’t know just how much help I’ll be, but I’ll do my damnest to help.  But if I can give you some advice, I think you should talk to your Grandmother. She is your Tsahik, and I feel like she’d be better suited to this kinda stuff. Maybe Eywa can help? You tried…?” he holds a tendril of The Tree in his hand. You shake your head.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Hmmno. Was too scared.” He nods and moves to stand. If you were too scared, he won't force you. When he’s up, he turns and holds out his hand to you.

“Alright then. Come on kid, let’s go see Mo’at, yeah?” A beat passes as you stare at the hand in front of you. You look up and when you see the soft expression of your father, you are filled with a determination you didn’t think possible. You take his hand and rise to your feet.

----

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

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The Lie of Providence - Chapter 3 - Red

word count: 2311

Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: Some might find the slight body horror imagery, though mild, in the final part disturbing. A/N: I'm starting a tag list if people are interested, please let me know :) It will be at the bottom of each chapter. Apologies for any grammatical mistakes - no beta we die like Tsu'tey QwQ

"blue text" is spoken Na'vi 'Italics' are thoughts.

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Night is fast approaching. Your gaze is turned upward; admiring the delicate strokes of purples and oranges painted upon the expanse. You gather your little brood of siblings and escort them back home without too much fussing on their end.

You wish you could invite Spider to come eat with you, but alas he is bound by the laws of his People and cannot be without his mask whilst outside. You all hug him goodbye and he runs off with a wave of his hand back to Hell’s Gate.

You arrive just in time for the evening meal; the clan gathering around the Tree of Souls to eat together. It doesn’t take you long to find your parents and grandmother with food already set out for all the children, you included.

You all greet each other warmly as you all gather around and near each other to eat. You go over hugging your father and grandmother. You give your mother a side hug as she’s holding little Tuk to her breast on the other side. She kisses your temple and gives you an affectionate stroke to your golden tresses as you sit beside her; Kiri and Lo’ak immediately make themselves comfortable next to you. Neteyam squeezes himself between father and grandmother.

The evening passes uneventfully, filled with idle conversation and gentle laughter woven through the breeze. When you all eventually return home, the family cuddles together to listen as mother and father retell the story of how they met.

Mother leans back with Tuk tucked into her left. Father presses himself into her right, his head affectionately nuzzled into her neck. You lay yourself into his right side and he wraps an arm around you tightly. Lo’ak and Kiri have laid themselves across your legs and lay upon father’s chest. Neteyam plops himself in the space between mother’s legs, his head resting on her stomach. Father puts his left arm around her waist to pull her just that little bit closer.  To you, there is no safer place to be than in the warm embrace of your family. Sleep takes you faster than you expected.

---

Your eyes slowly flutter open. You find yourself standing somewhere indiscernible in the forest. Eywa's song fills your ears as they flick to and fro. You hear her voice through the animal calls in the distance, through the breeze as it rustles the plants all around you. You feel content and safe and are certain the Great Mother is watching over you in this dream.

You start off in a random direction, not caring where you are going, but it feels right. Everything around you unfamiliar, but at the same time you’re filled with a sense that you’ve been here before. As you admire your surroundings, you come upon something unexpected.

It’s your Dream Human, cursing to himself as he pushes through foliage, uncaring of the way he disturbs the life around him.

“Fucking hate this God damn FOREST and this God damn HEAT and ESPECIALLY—” there is a pause in his tirade when your eyes meet.

 “YOU.”

The parallels of him finishing his sentence and the deceleration of your presence are not lost to you.

“Gettin’ real sick and tired of sick ya face kid. What the hell’dya want? Get the hell outta my dreams!”

Did you hear him right? His dreams? These were YOUR dreams.

“These are my dreams Human. It is you who invades.”  Your tail flicks with slight annoyance. He frowns slightly but shakes his head. “Whatever. I’m not here to argue with some savage kid. Gotta get the hell outta here so I can wake up and be done with this shit.” You give him a puzzled look. He talks as though he is stuck in this dream.

“Speak plainly Human. You talk as if you are stuck in this dream.”

His eyes slightly widen at something unspoken, but he schools his expression back to a scowl so fast it was, almost, imperceivable. “Feels like I’ve been stuck in Hell’s cesspool for days now.”

You’re not sure on two of those words, but with the venom with which they are spoken, you are sure it was an insult to Eywa and her gifts.

“I will not stand here while you insult the Great Mother. This dream is over. I am leaving.” You close your eyes and try to will yourself to awaken, your face slowly scrunching as you concentrate.

He scoffs in amusement.

“You look constipated.”

You open your eyes and fix him with an annoyed growl, crossing your arms. It seems Eywa prefers that you stay for the time being, much to your dismay.

“Looks like you're stuck here too kid.”

An exasperated sigh leaves you.

There is a beat of silence as you to stare at each other, almost challenging one another.

Quaritch contemplates on that for a moment. He could threaten you, he is in fact quite over being here. And violence seems to be the only language you Hostiles seem to speak in common. Then again, you are, as far as he can tell, a child. You may not respond accordingly. And if run away crying then that's just another headache he doesn't want.

“Alright kid, got any bright ideas on how we get outta this place? Where the Hell even are we?”

"And why would I help you? As a matter of fact, why should I help you?"

"Well, you being stuck here too has presented an opportunity both timely and convenient."

"Go on..."

"You help me get the hell outta here, and I'll be outta your hair and outta this damn forest. An outcome your precious little Ayewah would agree with I am sure." You do your best to ignore the flagrant disrespect with which he speaks the Great Mother's name.

"Fine. But only to get you out of where you do not belong."

You contemplate for a moment on his original question. There could be many reasons. A shared dream is not something you have ever hear of, but if the Great Mother is involved? Who knows what is possible. There is also the chance that he is a soul bound to Eywa that has somehow unfortunately become entwined with yours. Heck he could even be a figment of your imagination, this all an elaborate dream spanning years. You are, after all, a descendant of what was once Human. You have not the faintest idea how being part Human, no matter how small, might affect your connection to Eywa.

“I don’t know what this place is. But even if it is just a dream, I think we can both agree we’d prefer it to be a pleasant one, wouldn’t you agree?”

“So what’d ya suggest?”

“We should leave, find somewhere safe to wait out until either of us wakes up.” He nods in agreement with your statement.

“Alright then. Lead the way Snowflake.” Your face scrunches at the unrecognised word.

“I do not understand.”

“Snowflake?”

“Yea cuz of, ya know,” he vaguely gestures to all of you.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You stare at each other for longer than necessary before you turn around and begin your trek. He follows, attempting to be mindful of his steps this time.

---

Time feels funny in a Dream. It feels like hours have passed, but in tandem so does it feel like mere minutes. A moment as fast as breathing takes a lifetime. And when you blink, the world around you changes. Scenery you have seen thousands of times, but new and unfamiliar at the same time. It is a confusing feeling. But you keep going. A gentle breeze has been following you, guiding you.

Eywa must be watching.  What could she possibly be planning? You know it is not your place to question the Great Mother, but a little clarity would be nice once in a while.

The trek continues in silence, save for the song Eywa sings through the forest itself. A small comfort. You are grateful that within a dream there is no need to drink or rest. The two of you could travel indefinitely.

When you next blink you have to stop yourself in your tracks almost immediately. You are high upon a mountain, and out in the distance, your ancestor’s great Hometree stands tall and proud.

“Shit-!” Quaritch cusses as he catches himself before he falls over the sheer cliff face. He peaks over the edge. The tree tops before are indistinguishable, even in a dream this would not be a fall he wants to take any time soon. But he notes that it might work in shocking him awake. File it away as a last-ditch effort plan.

“This is the place.” You state as you cannot tear your gaze away from Hometree. You hate that you and your siblings were robbed of the experience of living in such a great gift from Eywa. You loath the humans who had done this to you, to your people. You hate how this is now part of the story of your People. The Elders speak of it with such venom, you can almost taste it yourself when you listen.

But your people have known peace since. The humans you know in Hells Gate are all wonderful. They treat you nicely, joke with you and tell you stories so fantastical you scarcely believe them. A world so far away hidden among the stars. So far that Eywa herself cannot reach. You like those stories and wonder if you’ll dream of such a place one day; Eywa willing.

“This is the place for what?” Quaritch asks you, pulling you from your quiet contemplation. You turn to face him and place a hand upon your chest.

“I feel it here. This is the place Eywa wants us to be. It is here we wait.” He huffs in annoyance at your explanation.

“Wait for what?”

You shake your head.

“I’m not sure. To wake up I hope.”

He nods in agreement and plops himself down on the ground, resting his back on the flat side of rock, arms and legs crossed. ‘Might as well get comfortable’, you think.

You turn to look at him as inconspicuously as you can. His gaze remains unchanging, focused forward toward the Hometree. You wonder what is on his mind, but do not have the confidence to ask. You study the side profile of his face, framed by the morning sky. You take note of the large scars that mar his face. You’ve seen it before, but never have either of you spoken before today. You wonder if this is something he would answer.

You sit down a little bit away on a different rock and close your eyes. For the first time in a long time, you enjoy the sun as it blankets you in a warm embrace. The feeling of comfort is so astounding you’re not sure where the sunlight ends and your skin begins. But you enjoy it nonetheless, knowing you could not afford such comforts in the waking world; you burn far too easily. The thought of your skin becoming sunburnt drifts your thoughts back to the human and how his skin looks.

You open your mouth to ask but stop. There is a sudden pull in your belly. An uncomfortable tugging. You hastily stand up; it feels as though you have been hooked through the back and are being pulled backward.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” The human asks, he is side eyeing you but still faces towards the tree.

“I—I must go. I will be back shortly.” You’re not sure you even believe your own words, but the pulling is becoming near unbearable. As you turn around to walk away from the cliff edge, your foot does not meet solid ground as you expect; it meets nothing.

---

You’re free falling.

You scream until your throat feels raw.

You franticly look around for something to grab. There is nothing. The world all around you is black. You cannot even see your hands when you lift them to your face.

You try to scream again, to beg and plead Eywa for help. You can’t see anything. You are afraid. But no sound comes out. You put your hands to your face, and instead of your own lips you are met with skin. You have no mouth. You frantically start clawing at the space, trying to tear it open, nails cutting small red lines in your frantic onslaught.

The panic worsens. The fear rips through you like glass shards in your blood. Tears flow freely from your face, that you can at least feel. You’re turning this way and that when you in front of you, one giant eye opens up in the void.

Red sclera and iris, black pupil. It’s as if the whole world comes to a stop. You don’t even notice that you are no longer free falling. You’re on the ground, legs bent up in front of you, your arms wrapped around your knees as you stare up into the Eye. You squeeze yourself so tight your nails are making half moon cuts into the skin.

Movement to your left. Another eye opens in the dark to gaze down on you. Then two more. Then four. Then eight. Sixteen. They multiply faster than you can count. The entire would-be sky of void is ingulfed in a sea of red. Different shapes and sizes. All equally threatening. Comforting? Every emotion you could muster bombards your very being.

The eyes, thousands upon thousands of them, start to bleed as they stare down at you.

And with that final terrifying visage, you wake up.

---

Tag List: @mynameisbaby9 @nissilou @d4rno

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The Lie of Providence - Chapter 2 - Memories Glazed in Sunlight

word count: 1906

Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: family bonding Author's Note: Slightly longer chapter! Posts still not showing up in tags TwT Oh well, I'll still keep posting in the hopes it fixes itself! Just a reminder this is in fact a slow burn, so I would like to do a bit of world building. Help establish your place amongst the family and clan.

"blue text" is spoken Na'vi. 'Italics' are inner thoughts.

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It is when you reach the age of 12 that you decide these dreams are Eywa’s doing. They visit you in an unpredictable frequency. Whether he is a memory of a man long since passed, or a figment of your imagination given life through dreamscape; you are unsure, but don’t think too much of it. After all they are merely dreams, they cannot hurt you, right?

The man doesn’t say much. More often than not you two didn’t interact at all. If he sees you, he simply huffs in annoyance and ignores you. As such you simply observed him from a distance, hidden behind something or rather, as he performed whatever bizarre Human ritual he felt necessary.

Sometimes you go months without seeing him. But it’s happened often enough now you find your mind drifts to him.

You’re at the Tree of Souls with your grandmother, Mo’at, repeating after her as she leads you through a prayer to Eywa, when a thought suddenly hits you; ‘what if he was a human soul, and the Great Mother claimed him as her own?’ You stop in wonder at the thought. Would such a thing even be possible? Even after everything that they’ve done to your clan, would she still find place for them in Her Embrace? Maybe. There were plenty of Sky People who were good. They respected the All-Mother and all her children.

Spider was one of them – the strange boy that he is. You don’t know of any other human children on Pandora, and you think he must be the first to be born here. He’s only 7, the same age as your younger brother Lo’ak and sister Kiri, but by Eywa is he just as rambunctious. You love seeing him play with them and Neteyam too. Tuk is a bit too young, still a baby that one. But you have no doubt in your mind she’ll enjoy his company just as much.

Out of all your siblings though, you’re sure he’s closest to you. As the eldest, you naturally fell into the role of protector. And as far as you’re concerned, he’s just another part of the family, another little brother to watch over and love.

“[Y/N]?”

Your thoughts are interrupted by your grandmother calling your name. You realise you had stopped praying as your mind started to wonder.

“Yes, grandmother?”

“Tell me child, what is on your mind? You are distracted.” She asks you as she brushes some hair from your face. You smile at the gesture.

“Nothing is the matter, sorry grandmother. I was just thinking of my brothers and sisters.” She hums thoughtfully and pulls her hand back.

“You may go to them then. There will be plenty of time to give thanks to the All-Mother. But your brothers and sister won’t always be so young. Go and enjoy them.” You grin at the declaration and hug her quickly before immediately sprinting to find your little band of siblings. She smiles at the sight of you running carefree through the forest.

You have a pretty good idea where you might find them. There are a few rivers nearby that you all love splashing in. Sometimes Father will join, chasing all of you through the shallows and splashing all of you wildly. You love that game.

You make your way to the first river but do not see your siblings. You do find a few adults fishing though. You recognise one of them as Saeyla, a great warrior and friend to both your parents.

“Ah! Young [Y/N]! What brings you here? Here to help us fish, are you?” She beams a wild smile at you. You see a young initiate beside her. She must be showing him the best places to fish, and when to appropriately use a bow or spear.

“Hello Saeyla! No not right now. I’m looking for my brothers and sisters, have you seen them?” She nods and points to her left. You thank her and run off in that direction, bidding goodbye to everyone.

Once you’re out of earshot the young man chuffs to himself and mumbles,

“She still looks like a freak even after all this time.” Saeyla flicks him right in the forehead.

“Watch your tongue! In case you have forgotten, that is Toruk Makto’s daughter. Our Olo'eyktan’s daughter. Show some respect. It is by Eywa’s will that she is here. Or are you going to question the wisdom of our Great Mother?” She fixes him with a stare, challenging him. He stiffens at her look.

“Sorry Saeyla. I—I didn’t mean—” He stumbles to find the right words but she waves him off with a click of her tongue.

“Let us continue and pretend you said nothing.” He nods at her words.

---

Your siblings are exactly where Saeyla said they’d be. All happily splashing in the water; not a care in the world. You smile and sit on a nearby tree root, a bit out of their line of sight. Content to simply watch them. You’re happy to see little Spider here too. You giggle to yourself as you watch him playfully dive atop the pile of Kiri and Lo’ak, Neteyam off to the side pulling on someone’s tail.

As you watch them, you admire the gold of Spider’s locks, not too dissimilar to your own. The play with the threaded gold of your hair idly between fingers, reminiscing on the firs time you had met the boy.

You had begged and pleaded with Father to teach you the language of the Sky People. Reluctant at first, he figured it would probably be in your best interest to learn it in the end, considering there were plenty of Humans and Avatars left behind on Pandora. And to be fair not everyone had learnt the Na’vi language. He figures you being at the young age of 8, it’s probably easier for their language to make a lasting impression than adults learning Na’vi.

He relents and takes you to see Norm, though bi-lingual now himself, he’s not entirely sure how to go about actually teaching you the language. Figured Norm, the science-head that he is, would have an easier time. You like Uncle Norm anyway. He tells you lost of fascinating stories about Sky People and the planet they came from. Especially when Father is reluctant to share. You also find it very funny when he switches to his Sky People body; he’s so short compared to when he’s a Dreamwalker.

So there you are, at Hell’s Gate with your Father. Mother stayed behind in the forest, content to watch over Neteyam, Lo’ak and Kiri.

Father and Uncle Norm are discussing something, you’re not paying attention to their words. Instead you busy yourself looking at the pretty pictures in a book on a desk nearby. You pay no mind to the idle sounds of the other scientists nearby as the work.

However, your attention is suddenly pulled by the pitter patter sound of hastily running feet and someone yelling “Spider get back here!”

Before you can turn around, something solid collides with your legs, causing you to drop the book as you fall to the floor, the solid thing landing on your legs.

“[Y/N]!” Your father is immediately by your side, gently picking you up as he puts you back on your feet carefully.

“I’m okay Dad,” you assure him. Didn’t even hurt. You look over and find Uncle Norm similarly lifting up someone. The someone that collided with you. It’s a child. A Human child.

“Spider you gotta be careful, you can’t just run into people like that. Now say sorry to [Y/N].” Uncle Norm chastises the child, Spider.

“Sowwy, I ram into yoo.” He says, his pronunciation a little off, but you understood him.

“Oh, I guess this is the first time the two of you have ever seen each other. [Y/N], this is Spider. Spider, this is [Y/N]. She’s my daughter. Say hello, [Y/N].” It is your Father that does the introductions.

“Hello! My name is [Y/N]! It’s nice to meet you Spider!” You beam at him. You didn’t expect him to speak Na’vi. Uncle Norm must be teaching him. You think hard and remember the Sky People greeting Uncle Norm showed you. Ah, right! A handshake! You stick out your hand confidently.

Spider looks at your hand as if unsure what to do. He looks back up to your face with a slight tilt to his head, a questioning look adorns his cute little face.

You giggle at his expression. Instead, you gesture with the traditional Oel ngati kameie hand motion. Spider smiles and copies you, even if the way he swings his arm is a bit off. You admire his hair. It is wild and golden like yours, though yours is a tad lighter.

“I like your hair.”

“Fanks. I like yor eyes. They pretty like strawberries.” You’re not sure what that last thing is. But that sounded like a nice thing so you say thank you.

It is from this tiny interaction that Spider becomes enraptured by you and your family. He’s seen Norm’s avatar, and the ones that walk around Hell’s Gate. But you? You and your father are different. You live in the Forest. And Spider LOVES the forest. He wishes Norm would let him run around outside and explore. “Maybe when you’re older,” he kept telling him.

And so begins months of learning the Sky People language from Uncle Norm and Father, while Spider is taught Na’vi by the two older males in tandem. Every chance you get, the two of you practice with each other. You speak English to him, and he Na’vi to you. It is a fun game.

It’s been about 4 years since then, now you’re both reasonably fluent in either language. Spider though seems much more content to speak Na’vi and that’s fine by you. Your siblings were eventually also taught the Sky People’s language to make communication between Humans, Dreamwalkers and Clan easier.

You continue to quietly watch your siblings play. And yes, you definitely consider Spider a younger brother. You don’t care that he is Human. Why should that matter? After all, your Dad used to be human. And even now, you understand that his body is that of a Dreamwalker.

A gentle breeze carries the laughter of your siblings to you. Their song dances around you, and you close your eyes and smile at the feeling. You could almost feel the Great Mother in the shades of the trees; sheltering you from the harshness of direct sunlight. Though you enjoy the kiss of sunlight as it seeps through the gaps between leaves, leaving warm and soft patterns across your skin.

Deciding you’ve had enough of watching and want to play in the water too, you sit up from your tree spot and make your way over to everyone else.

Spider is the first to notice your approach; thought it surely isn’t hard to miss your alabaster form against the greens of the forest.

“[Y/N]!!!” He yells excitedly and rushes to meet you part way into the water. Everyone else yells your name in greeting and follow him.

“Hello everyone!” You greet back and are soon tackled to the ground by a horde of toddlers. You giggle at their antics. Soon you all resume what ever game it is they were playing, lots of splashes and lots of laughter.

You couldn’t be happier.

---

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The Lie of Providence - Chapter 1 - Dreamweaver

word count: 1257

Rating: Adult, Explicit (eventually) Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Romance, Redemption Arc, Angst, Comfort, Family, Sibling Shenanigans, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt, Comfort, Dreams don't make sense, Eywa is testing you and you have not studied (chapters will come with their own tags/warnings if need be) Author's Note: I don't know what I'm doing LMAO! I havn't written fanfic in over a decade?? But I keep reading deliectable Quaritch x Reader fics so I got inspired to try my own! I hope you enjoy :)

"blue text" is spoken Na'vi. 'Italics' are inner thoughts.

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The first dream comes when you are 6. The nestling warmth of your family is suddenly gone; replaced with a thick humidity. It clings to you, wrapped almost too tightly. Awareness seeps into you as you realize you are no longer in your family’s embrace. You’re somewhere high up on a cliff, and in the distance you can see a large Home Tree.

Is that the old tree of the Clan? Strange. You’ve seen the large fallen tree when your parents flew you over and explained a little bit of where your clan used to live. But this tree is standing upright and strong. It’s so far away though.

A huff to your left immediately interrupts your thoughts. You head quickly snaps to the direction of the sound and you freeze. A few feet in front of you, someone is standing near the cliff edge. No tail. No blue skin. And far to big for his height to be another kid. This is no Na’vi. That is one of the sky people.

Your voice is caught in your throat, you don’t recognise this stranger from any of the Sky People at Hell’s Gate. He stands with his arms crossed and back to you. His hair is as white as your skin, while his skin is dark as though he’d been out in the sun far too long.

“That is one big damn tree.” You hear him say though the words have no meaning to you. Deciding you’d rather be anywhere but here you attempt so silently back away.

However, in your retreat you happen to knock a few stray pebbles abound. The sound attracts the man’s attention, and with a quickness you weren’t expecting he’s turned to look behind him.

Your eyes meet instantly as he says, “Who the hell’re you?”

And so you fall into darkness with a scream.

You wake up crying soon after; your cries alerting you mother and father and even little Neteyam; though he was more upset about the noise rather than you crying.

“[Y/N], my little atokirina, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?” your mother whispers to you and she holds you tightly to her chest rubbing your back in a soothing motion.

You explain to your parents through sobs your encounter with the scary looking man from the Sky People. You don’t see the concerned look they share with each other. After a beat of silence your mother tells you not to worry, it was only a dream, and that she and your father will always be there to protect you. The Bad Sky People left a long time ago.

You fall asleep to the quiet lull of your mother’s voice as she sings you a prayer to Eywa for pleasant dreams.

---

You don’t see the man, ‘Human’ as your father explained was the word in the Sky People’s language, again for a long while.

The next dream visits you when you are 7.

You recognise the colourless expanse of Hells Gate. Maybe you’ll see Spider! You giggle as you run through the familiar surroundings. Maybe uncle Norm is around too! As you run through what you think is the right direction to where they may be, you realise that, there is in fact no one around. The entire base is empty. No Humans. No Dreamwalkers. Huh.

The world around you bends and warps around you as you move through area to area. You’re under cover now. The area is large and looks like it goes on forever in all directions. All around you see the weird metal Ikrans of the Humans. There are the big bodies some Humans like to climb in, makes them taller than Dad. The thought makes you giggle. You’re tempted to climb all over one when you remember your father had scolded you once for the very same thing. You huff in annoyance and continue walking in a random direction.

Your sensitive ears suddenly pick up on a sound. The clink of metal. The grunts of a person. Curious as ever you let the sound lead you. You come upon a Human, laying on his back on a very thin bed. He’s holding a thick stick with weird shaped black rocks on either end. You quietly watch the strange spectacle as he lifts the stick up and down, making the grunting sound you heard before.

And as children often do, you don’t think before speaking.

“What are you doing?”

Your sudden voice startles the Human. And with a quick huff he puts the stick on the poles behind him. Quickly he sits up and your eyes met.

Oh.

It’s that Human.

The one from the dream a long time ago.

But this time you aren’t afraid. You’re a strong Warrior of the Omatikaya Clan! Or at least, you will be; when you’re as tall as Dad that is. But for now, you can at least be brave! That’s what Mum and Dad say all the Warriors of your clan are.

“What the--? How did some savage’s kid get here? Get lost kid.”

Strange. He’s definitely not speaking Na’vi. But you most certainly understood him.

“You’re mean!” You huff at him and cross your arms. He stares at you, brows furrowed, anger evident upon his face. He sighs and decides to simply ignore you completely. Swivelling his legs over the side of the strange thin bed, you watch him grab one of the smaller sticks off to the side.

You watch curiously as he slowly moves it up and down in one hand. Was this a Human game? You’ll ask Spider and uncle Norm when you next see them.

“Is this a game? Can I play too?”

“No.”

“No it’s not a game? Oooooor no I can’t play?” “Both.”

“What is it then?”

“Training.”

Ah. You understand that. Training. The Warriors train. The Hunters train. You train, and you become strong. And when you are strong, you help the Clan. Keep people safe. You like the sounds of that. So this Human must be a warrior? Training to keep other Humans safe? The forest IS dangerous you muse to yourself. You conclude he must be good then. He just looks a little scary with that strange face you don’t recognise. And those scary scars on the side of his face. Warrior scars you decide. Just like some of the grown-ups from the clan!

“What are you training for?” You are curious if he trains to protect or to hunt. Maybe something else? Humans are very fascinating.

He stops his movements suddenly and turns his head to you. A pit forms in your stomach. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. It is angry. It is not nice. It feels like he is saying you do not belong. It is a look you have seen before, from some of the other children in the clan. You don’t like that look.

He stands up, dropping the stick as he does, it makes a loud BANG as it hits the floor, making you jump with a sudden fright though you don’t make a sound as you do. You do clasp your hands in front of you, your tail wrapping around your leg protectively.

He’s staring down at you with that same, evil look. And when he opens his mouth…

“So I can get rid of annoying brats like you.” He spits out at you and suddenly, he’s lunged straight for you.

And once again, you awaken with a start and a cry.

---

Author's Note: Sorry it's a little short! I'm just testing the waters so to speak :P

---

<Master List> | 1 | <next chapter>

Peter 1= Tom’s Peter

Peter 2= Tobey’s Peter

Peter 3= Andrew’s Peter

Peter 3: Is the plural of milf/dilf milfs/dilfs or milves/dilves?

Peter 1: Milfs.

Peter 2: Milf/dilf is an acronym, you can't change the spelling to milves/dilves.

Peter 3 : Wait, they're acronyms? What do they stand for???

Y/N: Mom in late forties, dad in late fourties.

Y/N: I learned that from the movie called M.I.L.F that I saw the trailer of in theaters probably 5 to 7 years ago.

Peter 2: Mom/dad I'd Love to Fuck.

Peter 3 : WAIT, WHAT THE FUCK—

Peter 3 : I NEVER REALIZED IT WAS ACTUALLY HORNY!

Y/N: Oh, is it not mom in late fouries?

Peter 1: What? No! It isn't!

Y/N: THE MOVIE TRAILER LIED TO ME!

Peter 2: Y/N...

Y/N: THIS IS WHY I DIDN'T THINK CALLING PEOPLE MILFS WAS ALL THAT BAD BECAUSE IT STOOD FOR SOMETHING HARMLESS IT JUST HAD A SLIGHTLY SEXUAL CONNOTATION!

Peter 2: I am entirely unsurprised that this is coming from you.

Y/N: PETER 3 , DOES IT MAKE SENSE WHY I CALLED THE DIARY OF A WIMPY KID MOM A MILF NOW BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WAS LITERALLY JUST A DESCRIPTOR WITH FUNNY CONNOTATION!

Peter 3 : The word milf has been ruined for me.

Peter 1: THAT'S ITS DEFINITION, IT CAN'T BE RUINED THAT'S WHAT IT MEANS!

Peter 2: Y'all are dumbasses.

A/N- For those of you that don’t remember…

Peter 1= Tom’s Peter

Peter 2= Tobey’s Peter

Peter 3= Andrew’s Peter

Y/N: Subs are so fun to play with. All you have to do is hint at what you might do, back them into a corner with a look, or grab their wrist in a certain way and they're a wide-eyed mess.

Peter 3: What the fuck kind of Subway are you going to?

Peter 1: Substitute teachers deal with so much shit.

Peter 2: Guys.

Ned: Did you bring Y/N?

Shuri, gesturing to Peter: No, but I brought the next best thing.

Ned: Peter? The next best thing would be MJ.

Peter: I would be offended, but MJ is freakishly strong.

Peter: Your lover doesn't have the mental strength to caramelize onions.

Y/N: Your lover thinks it takes 5-10 minutes to caramelize onions.

MJ: Who's fucking caramelizing onions? Have you sociopaths forgotten that apples exist?

Ned: Do you think caramelizing onions is putting caramel on onions.

༻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | 6’6” Steve, feral behaviour/feral!steve, nomad!steve, fluff, scientist!reader, gentle giant!steve, soft!steve, size difference, SMUT - minors DNI, size kink, manhandling, unprotected sex, creampie, sort of animal-like behaviour, mentions of dead parents, specific warnings in each part.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | S.H.I.E.L.D. had a lot of secrets, you just never expected one of them to be an actual person—a blue-eyed giant, wild manbeast at that.

♫ ·ﾟ𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝗧𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗪/𝗖 | 23.9K + 7.1K in blurbs

𝗔/𝗡 | well hello everyone! This is based on my short drabble about Tarzan!Steve, but changed a bit for storyline purposes. In this verse, Sam has always been Captain America and best friends with Bucky. Also, since I felt weird with consent from Steve’s side, there won’t be smut until part 2 where he’ll fully understand what sex is. BUT, there will be an alternative dark!Steve version that’s sort of just pure filth because why not. No gifs/photos belong to me, found bottom ones on Pinterest [1 | 2] all credits go to the original creators. [*=smut] ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

Feel free to send blurb requests or asks about this series! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓!

For blurbs and the alternative dark version since this story is completed: 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 — ​˖◛⁺⑅♡ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒: 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: (3/3)

(1/3)

(2/3)*

(3/3)*

Alternative DARK version*

What A World Drabble Masterpost: 1 - 2

Role Reversal: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞 [feral!reader]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒/𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

bubbles

a lil about steve

marking*

typical jungle boy behaviour*

little hand

baby fever?

his mind, body, and soul*

9 kink drabbles* (see more drabbles in the gallery👇)

steve and his adventures with food: 1 — 2 — 3 — 4

steve wants a pet: 1 — 2

letters from steve

winter wonderland

𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘: tags

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬: #what a world drabble

Discussions/Drabbles: thots — fluff — dark — dark!reader — angst

All asks — Theories — Art — Ideas — Videos/TikToks — ??

Specific tag drabbles: sex toys* — periods — sex tape*

Tarzan!Steve aka WaW!Steve — Dad!Tarzan!Steve

Spicy Videos

Setting: Jungle

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱ About Me ⊰•*⭑

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

This is a never-ending editing mess of things I'm interested in and the things I post, changes are to be expected obviously

Current Life Events |

✑ Currently preparing for my first semester next year to study chemistry (and hopefully become a forensic medical examiner) also living with the fiancé :3

Reading ATM |

A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight (Ao3)

3 part series

Deku? I think he's some pro... by Clouds (myheadinthecloudsnotcomingdown) (Ao3)

6 parts (not completed)

Master List |

-WIP

Interests |

My Hero Academia (NSC)

Harry Potter (Neville, Draco, F&G)

Our Flag Means Death (NSC)

The Owl House (and most other shows produced by the same people)

HTTYD (NSC)

Marvel/Avengers (NSC)

DC (NSC)

TWD (NSC)

TVD + Associated shows (NSC)

Horror (Slashers namely Jason, Ghost Face, Pyramid Head, etc.)

Genshin Impact

Roblox (DTF)

JJK

Music | Current Playlist

Shortest

Sacred Spaces masterlist, Heart Pirates reader-insert

Being the shortest in the crew has its perks and drawbacks.

Being the shortest came with its fair share of trouble with life on the Polar Tang.

For a submarine, the Polar Tang was built almost luxuriously. But the caveat was that it was built with height in mind. It was a blessing for many of your crew, those like Jean Bart and Shosai being able to navigate the halls comfortably for the most part (though the size of the navigation seats couldn’t be helped). It was a curse for shorter members like you, especially when you needed to get something from the kitchen cabinets.

‘Sugar’ glinted mockingly down at you in blocky letters, the container somehow set atop the uppermost shelf. Grumbling, you glanced around to make sure nobody was there before gingerly climbing atop the counter. Your fingers trembled as they fell a few scant inches short of the container.

How Risso managed to navigate the kitchen despite only being taller than you by a bit always stumped you.

Before you could do something drastic, a weight pressed into your back, pressing all the air out of you as someone invaded your space. Red strands of hair fluttered into your vision, and you muttered a curse as Shachi’s familiar voice rang in your ears. “Aw, does our wittol Taiwor need some help to get something from up high?” 

“Shut up!” You barked, trying to shake off the redhead’s bulk, lunging for the sugar, but too late as tanned fingers swooped them from the shelf. 

The man stepped back for you to hop down, and you did, whirling around to face him. Though he was the shortest of the Swallow Island quartet, he was still tall enough to easily keep the tin out of your reach as you reached.

“I just wanted some goddamn tea!”

“What’s the magic word?”

Incensed, you jumped at him, making sure your boots landed on his toes. “I’ll make a pincushion out of your ass, Shachi!”

***

Being the shortest did really come with its fair share of teasing. 

You ducked, avoiding the arm that Hakugan was throwing over you, ready to use you as an armrest. “Oi!”

The helmsman yipped, toppling over as he couldn’t correct himself in time. “Hey!”

His arm latched onto the back of your suit, bringing you down with him. You both landed on the navigation room floor with a thud, immediately breaking into a half-hearted squabble as the two of you wrestled on the floor.

“You idiot! Why’d you pull me down!”

“I was falling!”

Your fist bonked onto the forehead of his mask, not enough to damage anything, but strong enough for him to feel your ire. “I told you that you needed to stop putting your arm on my head!”

“But you’re so convenient as a table! Just the right height!”

“Shut up, Hakugan!” You gritted, one hand pushing back his own as you fought him from palming your face. “You’re not even that much taller than me!” 

You were ready to grapple him until a winner emerged, but a metaphorical rope was thrown your way when you saw the wobbly top point of a familiar hood. Muscles straining, you froze, pushing back Hakugan’s hands as you quickly hatched up a plan.

“Helmsman on the floor!” You yelled, scrambling off of him as some of the crew honed in on the sight.

It had the exact result you wanted.

“Dogpile Hakugan!” Clione yelled, diving on top of the already downed pirate.

That prompted a chain reaction for some of the other members present, Ikkaku and Shachi following suit. The masked man let out a weak wheeze underneath everyone that quickly turned to terror as thumping footsteps approached. The crew screamed as Bepo’s shadow fell over them.

“Bepo, no!”

“Please stop!”

“I’m gonna die!!!” 

You scuttled away before the navigator could turn on you.

***

Being the shortest meant that Bepo’s hugs enveloped you completely, even more so than any of your other crew members. There were many a time when you’d startled someone hidden in the depths of Bepo’s fur by responding to something. You often used that to your advantage, hiding within the safe confines of his bulk to de-stress

A questioning call of your name roused you from where you lay, swallowed up by Bepo’s fluff. After a moment of contemplation, you poked your head up. “Yeah?”

Tanaka screamed, a high-pitched note that rivaled Mozart’s, startling Bepo beneath you. He pushed his glasses up nervously and cleared his throat as you two leveled an unimpressed look at him. “Ahem. Sorry. Can you help fix my cap?”

A second look showed that he was wringing said brown cap in his hands, his jaw-length locks swaying free. From where you were, you could see the frayed threads, something that would most likely mean a painstaking session bent over your table. But despite your aching back, duty called. You sighed and began to struggle up from where you were lying. “Alright, let me s—”

The rest of your sentence was cut off by a yelp as Bepo’s arms latched around your midriff, pulling you back. He rolled to the side, locking you underneath hid arms. “No, sorry. Rest time.”

“B-But I’m the ship’s tailor!” You protested. 

“Captain’s orders. If it’s not major, then you’re not working,” Bepo murmured, nuzzling his head atop of yours. “Tanaka repair your own things. Sorry.”

~~~

Sometimes your height was useful to the crew in more serious ways.

Law handed you a slip of paper, a rough map drawn on it. A bar’s name was written and marked on top of everything, and you already knew what to expect. “Tailor-ya, think you can scout out this place for me?”

“Sure thing. The usual?”

“Yes. Dress down, and try not to interact with anything too much.”

You took the paper, scanning over the map before pocketing it for disposal later. “Got it, Captain.”

“Uni and some of the younger crew members will be on the island for supplies restocking, but they might not be around when you set out, so expect to be on your own.”

“Yes, sir.”

While the crew prepared their pre-docking procedures, you made your way back into your workshop, digging out an outfit in preparation for those going onto the island. It was during times like these that Law’s strict modus operandi came in handy. No unnecessary, garish, attention-seeking skirmishes, uniforms to blend in with each other as much as possible, and a fair amount of time being underwater ensured that the Heart Pirates’ individual identity still remained in a gray area. That, along with your height, made you especially unnoticeable compared to the other members. So once you took off the distinctive uniform and the more distinctive sunhat you wore out, you were the perfect person to move about unnoticed.

You were rummaging for a shirt when the overhead intercom system crackled to life, Law’s low voice filtering through. “Everyone, we’ve arrived.”

Ditching your current task, you followed your nakama up the metal stairs to the entrance doors. Uni, Clione, and the newer members (though not too new, since they’ve been with you all for a few months already) were readying to leave, the hooded man jumping and rushing over when he saw you.

The blonde shoved a small dagger into your hand, patting the appendage. “I heard you’re going out later. It’s nothing big but just in case.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, squeezing Clione’s hand before he pulled away to vault over the railing to the dock below (to Law’s loud chastising for him to ‘stop doing that goddamnit you’re gonna break your ankle!’).

You and Law watched the merry band head off, you waving, while Law was as stoic as ever. When the group disappeared around the corner, the man turned to head back into the submarine, and you followed suit.

“Do you need anything before you head out later, Tailor-ya?”

“No. I’ve got everything prepared. Should I join the crew to help with our post-docking procedures?”

Law exhaled through his nose. “I told you already. You don’t have to do that whenever I send you out for surveillance. Just rest up. I need you to be sharp for tonight.”

You gave him a joking salute and split off to head to your workshop. “Got it, Cap’n!”

Your workspace did need some tidying, so you puttered around in the little room until the sky outside the porthole got dark, shucking off your boiler suit and pulling on your outfit for the night. Something nondescript, darker to blend into the area, but not so that you’d look suspicious. One final glance at the map Law gave you confirmed where you were going before you shredded the paper and left.

Ikkaku poked her head out to say a quick goodbye as you breezed past, Risso following suit with a reminder to come back in time for dinner.

“I’m making the Captain’s favorite tonight!”

The thought of his warm food got you drooling. “Got it!”

The night air was gentle on your face as you stepped out of the submarine. Law was already on deck, and he turned to greet you. “Do you have everything?”

You nodded, patting your waistband where you hid Clione’s knife. “I have the dagger Clione left me.”

“Good.” Law tossed a rope ladder over the submarine side, and you began climbing down. “Don’t be reckless.”

Your boots hit the wood below you. “I won’t.”

The map was burned into your mind’s eye as you navigated deeper into the little island town. Even with the encroaching night, a few establishments remained lit. However, the number of souls on the street decreased as you headed closer to the bar of interest.

Noise slammed into you the moment you opened the doors, a disorienting contrast from the quiet outside. However, the chaos was an advantage as you slipped in without drawing any attention, eyes skimming over the area. Your ears caught the murmuring of a familiar moniker.

Bingo. Law’s information was true as always.

You slipped into the bar seat nearest to your target, ordering a lighter drink and settling down.

There were always a few things you kept a lookout for. Movements of other powerhouses, mentions, and bounties relating to the Heart Pirates. But the main one was anything relating to Doflamingo. It was a given, with your Captain’s past hanging over the crew. There was no one other than that man who everyone kept such vigilant eyes and ears out for, anything picked up relayed back to Law with haste. Depending on the nature of the information, it would set the course of your trip for the next few weeks, whether it be submerged deep below water or sailing at a breakneck speed to another place.

Their organizations, as well as any and all names the Donquixote leader went by, were long-memorized by you so that you could catch any and all information.

Your skin crawled at the mentions of slaves passed offhandedly between the men at the table. An auction, generously funded by Joker, on an island north of here. A rare commodity considering he never liked to dabble in this part of the Blue, so far away from his normal base of operations.

You stuck around for as long as you could, picking up the date and location passing between booze-loosened lips. Hearing enough, you paid for your drink and slid out of your seat, making your way to the bar exit. As you rounded the corners of the streets, you thought that everything went well enough, until the shuffle of footsteps fell in line behind you.

“Going somewhere so quickly? I’m surprised you didn’t stay for longer.”

You stilled, slowly pivoting to face the man behind you, feeling the way your body broke into a cold sweat. Though you didn’t show anything as you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I thought we had a little rat listening to us. I just wanted to see what tidbits were swiped by greedy hands while my friends were discussing business.”

Resisting the urge to scoff at his cheesy words, you backed up, hand clasping over the hidden blade Clione forced into your hands earlier. Its handle was sturdy under your hands, but you didn’t have a chance to use it. Faster than you could react, he was in front of you. Pain exploded in your gut as he slammed a foot into it, sending you flying and hitting the wall of the opposing building and falling to the ground. You retched, stomach acid and spit coming up as you curled in to cradle your stomach. A shadow fell over your curled-over form, and you tensed, hand clenching the handle in your grip. Scuffed boots appeared at in your vision, and you struck, forcing battered muscles into overdrive as you swiped the dagger up, hoping it’d land.

The blade glanced harmlessly off him and the man slammed into you, vision exploding into stars before your air was cut off. You were dragged up, feet leaving the ground.

Oh no.

Though you haven’t been doing this for too long, you’d gotten careless at the ease in which the previous mission went.

You clawed at the vice-like grip around your neck, your borrowed dagger clattering to the ground as the man choking you out wretched your dominant hand to the side. The tips of your boots scrapped the ground beneath, barely making contact with the dirt. A glimpse of gleaming black on the limb holding you made you curse your luck.

Haki.

Damn him, you thought, baring your teeth in a desperate, animal display, ignoring the throbbing that came from the left side of your face. Even if you still had the knife in your grasp, you wouldn’t have escaped anyway. Someone with Uni’s stature or Moose’s strength could’ve handled it. But not you.

Jeering laughter echoed around you as you aimed weak kicks at the one holding you up.

“Who do you work for? Or are you just some nosy brat?” He asked, shaking you around like a rag doll.

Your eye bulged out of your head as he squeezed. The bones of your neck creaked like fragile butterfly wings within his hold. Against his size and abilities, you were helpless. A toy for the larger dogs to chew up. Your skin prickled as you felt eyes raking down your form, and you felt exposed without your usual thick, baggy boiler suit.

It shouldn’t have been like this.

Law was going to be upset.

“Hm, I could make you squeak. I’ll just have to take you back to my boys—”

“Let go of my nakama!”

The rest of his words were cut off by a grunt as something slammed into him. The world went sideways as you slipped from the man’s grasp, landing with a rough tumble as rocks and pebbles dug into your unprotected skin. Taking a few moments, you drew in wheezy gasps before trying to stand up. 

Hands caught you as your legs crumpled, and you were scooped up into warm arms.

“H-Hang on,” Bowser’s voice reassured you. “Don’t worry! Uni and Penguin’s got it covered, and we’re going to bring you to the captain!”

You tried to speak, but all that sounded was a hoarse rattle, the ring of fire around your neck aching like a brand. Breathing was equally difficult, and you relented to force wheezing, whistling breaths through your windpipe, limp in your nakama’s hold all the way until you were laid out on the infirmary bed, back in the Polar Tang again.

Through the haze of pain, you forced a smile at the figures hovering above you, unable to discern anybody due to the light shining down. You knew it must’ve been an unpleasant sight, the blood vessels in your eyes no doubt ruptured from the trauma.

Your name was said alongside Law’s familiar honorific. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

That was all the reassurance you needed as Law’s Room flickered on. The feeling of his fruit sectioning you apart was familiar at this point, and you closed your eyes. Your full trust laid in your captain’s abilities as you fell into darkness.

For others, it would’ve been terrifying to be on the receiving end of Law’s powers, but you and the Heart Pirates have never been led wrong by him. 

By the time you awoke, you could breathe again. The deep inhale you did came with a dull ache, but nothing of the caliber that you felt before. Shuffling came from the side of your bed, and you glanced over to see your captain standing up from his chair.

“Don’t speak,” Law said brusquely, interrupting you before you could even begin. “You have two fractured ribs and severe bruising surrounding your neck and the facilities there. Luckily, nothing was broken. I did the best I could to realign everything, but there was not much I could do about the ruptured blood vessels. You’re on bed rest until you heal.”

You exhaled, the motion coming with a dull pain as the muscles around your jaws ached. Your captain didn’t meet your eyes, fussing with the various equipment on the bedside table next to you. A common sign of his guilt as he tried to act busy.

Reaching out, you grabbed the edge of his shirt sleeve and tugged, halting the man in his actions. You lifted a hand to mime writing something, which he understood right away. A pencil and paper were thrust into your hands, and you quickly got writing. When done, you shoved the pad at him.

‘Not your fault.’

Law huffed, passing the pad to you. He pressed a hand onto your head, pushing you down. “You’re literally in the infirmary bed right now. Because of a mission, I sent you on.”

‘I chose to go, I’m the best at it. It’s not like our lives are only full of sunshine and rainbows as pirates. And you fixed me up now, yeah?’

“You know better than to over-rely on me,” he scolded.

‘But you take care of us so well, Captain!’

Law scowled, tugging on his hat as he averted his gaze. You squinted, seeing a bit of pink flushing over his skin. “Whatever. Did you manage to gather anything important?”

At that reminder, you brightened, pencil flying across the paper. You wrote down all the information you heard from those men, ripping out the page and presenting it to Law with a flourish. He took it, scanning everything. Gold eyes widened as he comprehended the information written on it. He gingerly folded up the paper and tucked it into his pocket.

“Ah. I see. Thank you.”

Knocking echoed on the infirmary door, drawing your attention away. “Captain?” Bepo’s voice questioned through the door.

Law let out an aggrieved sigh. “The lot of you can come in. Tailor-ya’s awake.”

The door slammed open, and you jolted as a veritable pile of crewmates spilled in, with Bepo’s orange-bright suit in front. Law gave a final word of warning for them to be gentle before the group skidded to a stop in front of you. You smiled at them, ignoring the slight ache that bloomed where you got hit. You could see their hesitation and tilted your head.

“You had pretty bad bruising,” Law told you. “I removed most of the blood from the broken vessels, but the ones in your eyes are too delicate for me right now.”

He gritted his teeth, and you could see his silent decision being made. You could already see him looking for more medical texts the next time the Tang docked at an island.

“Are hugs allowed?” Somebody asked tentatively.

Law exhaled a sigh, lifting an arm to flap his hand dismissively. “Do whatever. It’s mostly cosmetic and very minor injuries left. But don’t be too rough, either way.”

That was all the approval you needed, and you opened your arms.

Bepo’s wrapped around you first, and you relaxed into the Mink, letting out a soft sigh as Law stepped back for more space. A hand landed on your head, ruffling your hair. Uni’s hand, based on the length of the fingers. More arms wormed beneath Bepo, over Bepo, but all of them wrapped around you. An offended squawk from the side signaled that even Law was roped into the mix.

Being the shortest in the crew had its drawbacks, sometimes serious ones. But you didn’t mind. You knew your nakama was there to support you.

Hours in the Kitchen are Spent Warmer With You

Worick Arcangelo x Reader x Nicolas Brown

The apartment may be old, the halls run down, but even with the two of them in the cramped kitchen with you, it filled your heart with incredible fondness.

The pan sizzled threateningly as you dumped in the vegetables, water from those and your hands making the oil pop as you hissed and jerked back. On the other stove top, a second pan held cutlets of chicken being seared into golden brown. The knife in your hands glinted as you brought it down on some mushrooms, clicking your tongue in annoyance as the dull blade made a mess of your ingredients. You’d have to ask Nic where he left the whetstone again, but for now, they’d have sloppily cut mushrooms in their vegetable. And considering they weren’t the ones cooking, they had no right to complain.

Dumping in the mushrooms with the other greens, you gave the pan a few good shakes with one hand while the other went to lower the heat. Busy with your one-man show, you missed the racket of the door opening and Nicolas and Worick’s arrival as the latter announced their presence home. Seasonings were just about to go into the pan when you sensed someone popping up right behind you, just before a warm breath ghosted over your ear.

“Boo.”

The wooden spoon in your hand cracked over a mop of blonde hair, instincts faster than reason as your senses kicked into high gear at the perceived intruder. It hit you a split second later as the blonde stumbled back with a groan, clutching the spot on his head where you struck him.

“Worick!” You exclaimed, part exasperation and part mortification.

“Oi!!” he grunted. “Why did that hurt so much?!?”

You weren’t quick enough to dodge as he grabbed your wrist holding the spoon, inspecting the utensil in your grip.

“Let go! The food’s gonna burn!”

“Don’t use it as a weapon next time!”

Baring your teeth at him, you kicked his shins. “I’ll take a chunk out of your arm next time, yeah? Maybe that’s better.”

Your vision was obscured as Worick planted his open hand onto your face, trying to push you back. “You wouldn’t. How else would I—Ow, what the hell!”

You stumbled as Worick yanked himself away from you, a grossed-out look on his face as he held up the hand that was over your face just moments earlier.

“You bit me!”

“I warned you,” you muttered, turning back to the stove andflipping the chicken breasts.

Seeing Nicolas at the edge of your vision as he entered the kitchen, you quickly stomped twice on the floor, drawing the Twilight’s attention as he picked up on the vibrations. After resting the spoon on the counter, you signed to him, “Food’s almost ready.”

He grunted an affirmation, expression moodier than usual as he pushed past you and Worick to head to the sink, turning on the faucet and sticking his head underneath the water. You watched the occurrence in slight bemusement before turning back to the food, slapping Worick on the hand when you saw him reaching for the spoon. With the other two, considerably larger males here with you, it was hard to move about without knocking elbows, and you began to get irritated at the two of them so close right after their jobs.

Seeing the blonde trying to reach for the pans against, you haphazardly threw back an elbow in his direction (which he, unfortunately for you, dodged). “Piss off and get your nasty fingers away from the food. You absolutely reek right now.”

Worick let out a sad groan, pouting at you. “Will it be done by the time I finish washing up?”

Pausing, you gauged how much time would be left for the other side of the chicken to brown. “Yeah. Especially if Nico’s showering ahead of you.”

The blonde did a one-eighty as he turned around to catch sight of the back of Nicolas’s head as he disappeared around the corner. “Hey, no!”

His clingy presence evaporated from your side as he ran after Nicolas. Muffled thumping reverberated from where the two were, before the slam of a door closing echoed somebody’s victory. The vegetable medley was just barely soft, so you dumped in the marinade for it. You heard the clinks of utensils being set out behind you before Nicolas wandered into your peripherals, taking the pan with the chicken breasts and giving it a cursory jiggle. Nudging him away before he could ruin them with his cursed ability to scorch food, you took up the entire space in front of the stove.

There was a pointed huff behind you before you felt Nicolas press into your back, his head coming to rest on your shoulders as he leaned part of his bulk on you. He was careful enough not to use all of his weight, moving when you did, and feeling the vibrations as you hummed a soft tune you liked. After one hand was freed and clean, you reached up to run your fingers through his short hair, nails scratching his scalp the way he liked.

Nicolas’s chest rumbled as he practically melted into you, the Twilight going soft in the only way he would with you and Worick. You grimaced at the thought of sweat and other post-assignment muck on Nicolas rubbing off, but with him clinging to your back like this, you doubted he would listen if you told him to back off.

Steam from the rice cooker buffeted your face as you lifted the lid, mixing up the fluffy grains within it before shutting it. You gently pushed Nicolas out of your space to plate the food, the sautéed vegetables and pan-fried chicken being separated into three portions, with the biggest going to Nic to compensate for his increased metabolism. You nudged your elbow into Nicolas’s midriff to separate him from you, motioning to him to get the food. He peeled himself off of you with a grumble and went to take all the plates before you could, lifting them over your head when you tried to reach for one. The two of you shuffled over to the old wooden table taken from the curb that served as your dining space, its mismatched chairs pushed neatly in. Nicolas already set out cutlery for you all, and now, he placed the food in their designated spots.

The sound of the bathroom door opening signaled that the other male had finished his shower. True to word, he wandered into view a few minutes later, hair still dripping lightly. He perked up at the sight of you and Nicolas taking your seats by the table and adjusted his eye patch as he hurried to the same.

“Hell yeah,” he groaned, sliding into his seat. “Thanks for the food.”

You hummed picking up your fork. To your left, Nicolas was already stabbing into his portion of chicken with his own utensil. Rapping on the table with your nickel, you signed to Nicolas, ”Where did you put the whetstone?”

Nicolas stilled, mouth partially open and food halfway to his mouth. His eyes flickered away from you for a quick second, guilty. Narrowing your eyes at him, you hoped that the pressure of your stare would cause him to cave. But he simply looked away, the bastard. You huffed and returned to our meal, determined to pry the answer out of him later.

“Nic lost it.”

Worick’s answer jerked you out of your meal again. Nicolas continued to eat, pretending as if nothing was wrong. Reaching across the table, you took hold of his ear and tugged. Though the Twilight was much stronger than you, he relented and leaned over with a grumble as you forced his attention over. “That’s the fifth time, Nic! I swear, the corner shop clerk thinks I’m a weirdo by now! What the hell do you use it for because I know you don’t use it for your sword!”

The Twilight stuck his tongue out at you.

“We’ll grab a new one!” Worick quickly intervened before you could lunge across the table.

“You better,” you muttered, returning to your meal, stabbing the vegetables a little too viciously with your fork. “See how easy it is when it’s your turn to cook when the knives are dull as shit.”

“But you did so well,” Worick said. “I think Nicky can agree.”

He pointed over to the Twilight, who was cramming the last bite of chicken into his mouth. Nicolas sensed the shift in the air and paused, glancing up to meet your eyes, his cheeks puffed out from the food. He squinted his eyes, a challenge for either of you to say anything. While he was distracted, Worick snuck some of his vegetables onto the unsuspecting man’s plate, shooting you a wink behind Nicolas’s back. The dark-haired man was none the wiser as he turned back, only doing the briefest pause before resuming his meal. You and Worick did the same, the space settling into something quiet, only broken by the sounds of cutlery against cheap dishes.

Nicolas was the first to finish, and you passed the remainder of your food over to him. He took that too, and you got up, ready to clear away the dishes before Worick tutted.

“Sit down,” he instructed, leg hooking over your chair leg and tugging it in so you were forced to lower yourself. “Whoever does the cooking doesn’t have to do the dishes, remember?”

He shoved the last bit of food him his mouth and then stood up, gathering the utensils while Nicolas stacked up the plates. You tilted your head in curiosity as Worick passed everything to the other man, and then split off to go back to the living area. The squeak and rattle of water in the sink behind you was Nicolas’s presence, while the rustling of plastic gave hints to what Worick might be doing. You didn’t need to wait for long as he wandered back, a cheeky smile on his face as he slid back into his seat.

“Nico and I swung by the shops to get something sweet,” Worick said, waggling the brightly colored box, so out of place in the drabness of your apartment. He leaned forward to set it on the table, resting his face in a hand. “They were on sale, so we thought that it’d be a nice treat to go with the food.”

You couldn’t help but let out a good-natured sigh, shaking your head. “Of course, you’d go for that.”

Worick’s eye was bright as he broke open the seal, allowing the scent of chocolate to permeate the kitchen. Nicolas placed down a few drinks, brushing a quick kiss to your temple as he passed, and soon the crinkle of wrappers announced the treats being unwrapped. You hummed in delight at the taste of the sweetness melting over your tongue. Though the treats were cheap, the kinds stocked in bulk by the counters everywhere you went, it still warmed your heart to split the small offering in between the three of you.

Music drifted up from the street below as you three finished the chocolate, someone’s ancient stereo spitting out static-laden notes from foreign songs. The blonde perked up, setting down his drink on the worn table with a ‘thunk’. His bright gaze pinned you and Nicolas down as he stood up. “Looks like someone got their radio to work. Wanna dance?”

Nicolas marked his immediate refusal by crossing his arms and glowering threateningly at Worick. So the blonde turned to you, hand extended with a hopeful look on his face. With a begrudging smile, you reached out and placed your hand in his, getting pulled up out of your seat to stand in the small area of your kitchen. You could help but laugh as Worick spun you around, his own velvet chuckles accompanying it. The space was barely big enough for the two of you, hips bumping into the counters and Nicolas’s feet tripping the blonde as he purposefully stretched them out. Your heart felt inexplicably warm and full, Worick’s eye bright with mirth. Even Nicolas, when you glanced back at him, had a fond look on his face, a small smile as he gazed at you two.

There were pots and pans in the sink to be washed, schedules to update, and budgets to go over, but for right now, the three of you basked in the golden glow of the afternoon.

Japes and Jubilations, Pt 4

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces Masterlist

The various antics of the crews and the various ways you’re involved in it.

(Part 1) | (Part 2) | (Part 3) | YOU ARE HERE

Part 4: Pillow Fort

The crew finds out about your sleeping habits.

You snorted awake as a frightened yelp of your name roused from your slumber. A hand around your ankle was all the warning you had before you were tugged out of the comfortable darkness you were under.

“What were you doing?” Slick asked, his and Boost staring down at you.

Head full of sleepy cotton, you sat up with a yawn. “Napping.”

“Holy shit, what if those things collapse with you underneath?” he wheezed, an arm thrown out to the bolts of fabric leaned up against each other in a shoddy tent.

You wisely chose not to mention how many times you’ve had to wiggle out of that exact situation. And the bruises that would inevitably form after being pinned by rolls of unyielding fabrics.

“That’s so dumb…” Slick sighed, ignoring your affronted ‘hey!’

It was also a good way to de-stress, the sound and light dampening effects helping you cut off from the world. And you told him so.

“You should just build a pillow fort, then!” Slick harangued. “Instead of scaring us half to death!”

You blinked. “What’s a pillow fort?”

They stared at you like you grew a second head. “You… don’t know what a pillow fort is…?” Boost asked.

Their strange reactions made you defensive as you stood up and crossed your arms. “If you guys are going to be weird about it, then just go away.”

Boost quickly shook his head, denying that. “No! No! It’s not that. We’re just surprised, that’s all!”

Shrugging, you waved them off. “I’m not sure what the importance of this ‘pillow fort’ is. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to sleep.”

You caught onto Slick the moment an idea went off in his head, resigning yourself to your fate as the dark-haired male grabbed your wrist and dragged you with him. “No! I have a better idea that won’t risk you being suffocated.”

Boost shot you an apologetic look as he went along with his best friend, shutting your workshop door behind him.

The three of you tromped through the Tang’s halls, with the tallest in the lead, looking for something specific. Slick didn’t stop until he saw Law passing by, absorbed in his documents.

“Cap’n!” he called, halting the man in his tracks.

Law stopped, humming to show that you all had his attention, but never lifting his eyes from the files in his hands. “What is it?”

You were presented in front of him like a guilty party, your name uttered out by Slick. “—doesn’t know what a pillow fort is.”

Law glanced at you and slowly raised a single, dark eyebrow. “And? What is the reason for telling me this?”

Slick’s eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. “The common room’s free for a while, right?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the crew duties?”

“Well…” Law drawled, pretending to ponder over a schedule that you all knew he had memorized. He shuffled the paper in his hands a bit, like a teasing bastard. “Nothing out of the ordinary for today. It’s actually a lighter day, so night shift should be done early.”

Slick’s wide grin grew even wider. “Perfect… Captain…”

Law held up a tattooed hand. “Do as you want. Don’t let it get in the way of your duties, don’t mess anything up, and put things back the way they were.”

The arm in Slick’s hold was yanked up along as he threw his up in victory. “Yes! Thanks, Cap’n! C’mon, we gotta start it early.”

“Start what early?” The plaintive voice of your navigation officer asked.

Slick turned his excited grin on Bepo, tugging you forward. And finally releasing your wrist to put his hands on your shoulders. He shook you back and forth, as if you were a rattle and not a senior officer twice his experience. “We’re going to build a pillow fort!”

 Bepo tilted his head. “Oh, is this a team-building exercise? Can I help?”

“The more, the merrier,” Boost said, with the knowledge of someone who’d spent years accompanying Slick in his antics. “Slick usually makes them pretty big, so it’d be nice to have some help if we don’t want to spend all night on it.”

Bepo’s eyes glittered at that, and you knew it was inevitable that most if not all the crew would get wind of this as the mink sped off. And it was true, the air of the Polar Tang taking on a fervent energy at the thought of a new, exciting event. You had to admit, there wasn’t much to do outside of chores on the submarine, and when the underwater stints were weeks long, it really exhausted all sources of entertainment available. So you couldn’t blame everyone for being worked up at the Captain’s go-ahead.

“Yo.” Shachi popped into the workshop, the redhead stepping in to lift one of the bolts of fabric that you could spare (at Slick’s insistence and the promise to roll them all up later). He paused as he passed by you, leaving space for Uni as he too moved about in your workshop. The redhead’s gaze felt sharp and assessing beneath his glasses, and you blinked, relying on your old, hated training not to shift nervously and give anything away. “You alright with all of this? 

The unexpected kindness threw you for a loop, and you broke your composure, eyes widening. “I—Uh…”

“If it’s too much, let me know right now, and Peng and I will tell everyone to pack it up.”

His concern warmed your heart even after so long with the crew, and you gave him a close-lipped smile. “It’s fine, Shach’. I’m just… It’s kind of exciting.”

It embarrassed you to say that, but it was true.

Shachi’s face broke into a broad grin at that admission, shooting you a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, then. We’ll make sure this is the best blanket fort you’ll ever have.”

Somehow, miraculously through the power of very careful maneuvering, lots of squabbling, and two unrolled bolts of the largest fabrics and what you think was all the blankets and pillows possibly on the Tang, the recreational space became a massive fabric structure that every single one of your nakama could fit under in comfort. Even the tallest ones, should they choose to partake, had a space for them. It wasn’t surprising that the thing got built (not with those like Ikkaku and Morsa helping), more so that everyone wanted to participate and wanted to join in on this silly little escapade that only happened because you had revealed an embarrassing facet about your childhood (or lack of). Of course, not everyone was present, as there were those who still had to go through their shifts. But they would come when their shift ended and someone else’s began. But not you for tonight.

Because tonight, you’d get the joy of experiencing your first ‘pillow fort’.

You couldn’t believe it. Full-grown pirates, led by the most fearsome surgeon of the seas. And there you all were, piled into a pillow fort of all things.

“So?” Slick prompted in a whisper, picking his head up to look at you from where he was. “How’s your first pillow fort?”

You hummed, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Bepo’s bulk behind you. Uni, already in his sleep, tossed a leg over you, the long limb pinning both you and Clione down under it. “It’s nice,” you said simply.

Law’s gravelly brogue rumbled over the space, a little grumpy after Bepo corralled him into the space. “Go to sleep, you two.”

In the dark, you smile gently up at the canopy above you.

Slick had a satisfied look on his face as he shot you a final smile before lying down. Unbeknownst to you, he exchanged a victorious fist bump with Boost for giving their dear tailor one more experience to cherish.

Japes and Jubilations, Pt 3

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces Masterlist

The various antics of the crews and the various ways you’re involved in it.

(Part 1) | (Part 2) | YOU ARE HERE | (Part 4)

Part 3: Haunted

The senior members (Penguin) decide to pull some pranks on the newcomers. Of course you're pulled along.

The Polar Tang’s halls could be scary, if you weren’t used to her.

That wasn’t an exaggeration, but an undisputable fact. Every single crew member whom you’ve talked to about it, admitted that they were initially put off at being in the Tang’s hall when they first joined the crew.

(Save for Ikkaku and Law, but the former was a whole different beast in her own category and the latter never let slip a single peep when you asked.)

Hell, even Bepo admitted that he and the Swallow Island duo were terrified the first few weeks they took ownership of the submarine, though Penguin and Shachi would deny it to the best of their abilities.

Though Law was no-nonsense with stuff like this, he wasn’t always around to curb the rumors the senior members liked to tell the newer recruits.

Penguin leaned closer to one of the new recruits, tanned and his brown-hair in soft spikes. “You know, you’ve had quite a few night shifts already. How do you feel?”

“It’s kind of eerie at night,” Boost admitted. “Not that I’m complaining! It’s just very… different from what I’m used to…”

“You don’t have to lie to make us feel better,” the other man said. “Everyone knows it’s scary in the halls at night. Especially down the area where the Tailor’s workshop is.”

Clione joined in, ever the shit stirrer. “Yeah! If you’re by yourself there, sometimes you can feel a presence following behind you!”

You sighed as expectant gazes turned to you, raising your hands up. “I don’t know, don’t look at me. I’m usually not in the halls late. I’m either in my bunk early or I stay in my workshop the whole night.”

Another voice scoffed, and you scooted over to let the lanky figure of the other recruit sit down next to you on the bench. “Yeah, right! What’s gonna be with us? Ghosts? Spirits? What are you five?”

“Hey!” Penguin yelled. “It’s true!”

Slick chuckled, glancing at the senior members over his meal. “Sure, sure.”

 ***

Much later on that day, as the hours were turning into night, you were visited by two men who really had too much time on their hands despite being first mates.

“Tailorrrrr!” Penguin whined dramatically. The couch creaked as he draped himself over it, partially laying in Shachi’s lap, who sat on one end. “The new recruits don’t believe us! They think we’re idiots!”

“Probably because you’re acting like it,” you responded dryly, adjusting the measurements on your template as you calculated the changes you’d have to make for the new boiler suits.

“Well, how am I supposed to earn their respect as their superior if they treat me like that?”

“Act like the full-grown man you are,” you suggested.

“Orrrr you can scare them,” Shachi suggested, shark-like smirk on his face. “Make them eat their words.”

You shot the redhead a scathing look that warned him not to go any further. But all too late, as the damage was already done, and the seed planted as the moping man was revitalized.

“We should totally use your workshop to scare the newbies,” Penguin said, a fit of determination making him jerk up and nearly nailing Shachi in the gut.

“No, the fuck we’re not,” you said immediately.

Shachi didn’t say anything, only grinning wider when you looked at him for help. He opened his mouth, and you immediately knew that nothing good would come out of it. “You know, we should spook them first. Mess around with them a little bit.”

“Yeah! And we won’t mess with anything! We’ll just need a space to hide at most.”

You sighed in exasperation, not even bothering to ask for an elaboration at the two’s jumps in conversations, as they would eventually tell you. You had higher expectations for Penguin, as he was usually the more responsible one who reigned in Shachi and the more mischievous members of the crew when Law was not around, but when it was him who got an idea, there was no hope of deterring him as he had Shachi to egg him on.

“I have some old scare masks from the festivals on my old island if you want to use it,” you grumbled, giving in far too easily. As much as you tried to deny it, you did have a soft spot and a tendency for chaos that led you to lend your services too often to them.

Penguin perked up. “Really?!? Are you sure?”

“If you can find it and put everything back the way it was after, then go ahead. But,” You stopped and raised the pencil in your hand threateningly at them like a blade, “if you guys leave my shelves messy, I’ll kill you.”

He sweated nervously. “Got it.”

 ***

It started off normally, for the most part. The days passing by without you noticing anything much. Though that could have been because you were holed up in your workshop when not out doing your assigned duties. But you did notice that out of the pair of newbies, Boost looked increasingly nervous as the time passed. Once or twice, passing by the sleeping quarters’ hall, you did spy Penguin skulking around, sometimes by himself, sometimes with either Clione or Shachi or any other person he managed to rope into. You always made sure to look straight ahead and walk a little faster to pass it.

(Supplying them with a few items didn’t mean that you wanted to participate—and, more importantly, be caught up when Law came through and cracked down upon the antics.)

(You did not want to spend another day finding bits of your body scattered around the Tang by Law’s fruit, thank you very much. You were perfectly content to sit back and watch the chaos that was your nakama unfold around you.)

Tonight’s night shift included the daily navigation lookout duties, and additional maintenance things in the engines that you couldn’t get to while the Tang’s machinery was hot and active during the day. It was you, Uni, and Penguin, alongside the pair of newbies. One senior officer to a junior to show them the ropes, plus an extra pair of eyes on the ocean. Penguin was there to fetch you from your workshop, and the little smirk on his face was the only warning you got to prepare yourself for a night of mess as you met up with Slick and Boost

You were glad, though, that even though the first mate was mischievous, he still took his duties seriously. The first half of the time spent in the engines room passed by dutifully, with the two younger members learning what they needed to manage any emergency issues that might pop up. If they got assigned to a specific role, then they’d have more in-depth training later. But tonight was just a quick rundown for them to prepare for night shifts.

(You pretended not to notice the way Boost had a queasy look on his face and that Slick’s shoulders twitched every time something creaked or clanked. Law should give you an award for the best actor on the crew.)

“Now that you two’ve got the hang of it,” Penguin announced with a grin on his face. “Tailor’ll will watch over for a little bit. I’ve gotta go to the shitter!” 

You groaned, sending him a nasty look. “You’re filthy, Peng.”

He stuck his thumb on his nose and waggled his fingers at you before turning and leaving.

“Feel free to ask me anything if you need,” you said before wandering over to your area and opening the borrowed maintenance kit and extracted a screwdriver. “Remember, don’t overtighten anything, or you might crack the casing. Check for rust or leaks or any missing screws. This area tends to rattle a lot.”

“Got it!”

While Boost and Slick settled down in their quadrant. You unscrewed the panel of one of the deactivated filter tubes and stuck your head in, checking for clogs or debris. Not many others liked doing this particular task, especially after that one time Uni found a whole horde of spiders that stowed away from a previous docking, and the next month was spent battling eight-legged terrors. It took you hours to dust out and clear your workshop once you surfaced.

You shuddered and pulled yourself out, replacing the panels and making sure they were screwed on tight. There was a clank and a curse from the corner the newbies were working.

“You alright?”

“Where did my wrench go?!” Slick stuck his head out from behind the pipes, an aggravated look on his face. “Tailor, do you have an extra?”

“Let me see…” You rummaged through the mechanic's toolbox by your leg, grimacing as you pulled out an old, rusty one that Ikkaku swore up and down to have thrown away already. “Ugh… This is the only one…”

“It’s fine, I’ll take it.” Slick accepted it with a valiant grimace on his face and returned to his work.

Your attention was piqued after that, half-focused on the newbies in case anything else happened, and the other half keeping an eye out for the missing wrench. The lights flickered, and you frowned, casting a look overhead. You were halfway through putting a mental pin into notifying Ikkaku of the malfunction when the room plunged into darkness. There was a split second of surprise before your instincts kicked in, as you stilled, listening to the noises of the Tang around you. Electricity still hummed through the floors, and there was the very distant thrum of gears in action. That meant that the lights weren’t broken. Someone turned it off.

Steady footsteps approached you and through a weak trace of your Observation Haki you identified the familiar presence before you socked them.

Penguin tapped the back of your hand teasingly as he brushed by, aimed towards where the cursing newbies were, before his steps fell silent. Wise enough to expect the upcoming trouble, all the tools were packed up before they could become a tripping hazard in the dark.

Then it began. 

Due to its nature, sound tended to echo in the Tang, the metal walls and features bouncing and warping noises until it was night incomprehensible. Within the confines of the mechanical rooms, that fact doubled tenfold as a veritable din rang in your ears.

You were calm in the chaos as their footsteps and screaming approached you, chased along by ominous clanking and the frankly ridiculously scary laughter Penguin could produce. Hands grabbed onto either side of your shoulders, jostling you a bit, but you didn’t move even as the noises got nearer. Just when it sounded like it was right in front of you, everything cut off. The three of you were left in silence for a few moments, fingers digging into your shoulders and two forms that were too tall trying to huddle behind you. When the lights turned back on, you had two oversized males clinging to your back and a pair of wrenches sitting innocuously in front of your boots.

“I’m gonna piss my pants,” Slick muttered. He shook your shoulders a little bit. “H-Hey you didn't say that the sub’s got electrical problems at night. Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I’ll let the head mechanic know,” you drawled, nudging the wrenches with a boot. Raising your hands, you patted the hands on your shoulders conformtingly. “Anyway, your wrench’s back, Slick. Get back to work, you two. The faster we finish, the more time we can spend with Uni in navs. Don’t you worry, I’ll kick the ass of any other ghosts here.”

It was a blessing that you finished up the mechanical work easily, so that you could let Slick and Boost run back to the navigation room to huddle with Uni. Though, as punishment for letting you shoulder most of the work, you forced Penguin to stay back and double check everything.

 ***

“How do I look?” Penguin asked, turning to you, the borrowed mask secured on his face. It looked a little silly with his hat poking up behind it, but you were more focused on your work table.

You gave a long-suffering sigh as you rubbed the bridge of your nose, eyes not straying to him as you doubled checked the two boiler suits for any last-minute errors. “You asked me that already.”

“But you didn’t answer before!”

And you didn’t bother to answer this time, either. Huffing, you folded up the suits neatly, making crisp lines even though you knew that they would be unfolded soon. With that ready for Slick and Boost, you turned to drag out an old bedsheet from the infirmary that laid in your reuse bin.

“They’ll be here soon to pick up their boiler suits,” you informed the first-mate in a tired tone, handing him the fabric. 

“Thanks!” Penguin chirped, grabbing it. The dark cloth finally covered his hat when he threw it on, concealing his identity completely with the mask. The man then shuffled behind your couch, tucking himself behind there just in time as knocking announced the arrival of your guests.

Making sure that there wasn’t an errant corner of the sheet showing, you went to open the door to let the two newest members in.

“No ghosts outside!” Slick announced, chest puffed up. “So you don’t have to worry! If you’re still scared, I can walk you at night.”

After the night shift where you bore witness to them getting scared, Slick seemed to try and double down on his previous statement denouncing his fears, hiding his increasing nervousness behind false bravado.

“Right,” you said simply, a small smile on your face as you stepped aside to reveal the new uniforms on your desk. “Well, if you want to stop talking about ghosts and start looking at your boiler suits, they’re ready.”

Both males eagerly went for their uniforms.

“Damn, you made these?!?” Slick marvelled, picking up the suit and unfolded it.

“W-Wow it’s perfect,” Boost said.

You grinned at the pair’s awe, pride puffing out your chest a little. “I’m responsible for the crew’s uniforms. Or anything clothes related. If you need something, come to me.”

Caught up in the ego of praise, your spirits were high enough that you only smirked as you saw Clione and Uni peeking into the open doorway of your workshop, the former with a smirk and a wrench in his hands and the latter reaching for the lights. Your workshop was plunged into darkness at the same time that Clione slammed his wrench into something, creating a reverberating crash in the small space that elicited shrieks from the two in front of you. It got even more chaotic as your couch screeched, moving from its spot as Penguin crawled over the back of it. In the dimness, the mask and sheet truly did look ghastly, like an eerie apparition. Coupled with the shrieking noise you had no idea he could produce, you had to say that it was quite a good act.

Slick and Boost ran screaming out the door. Penguin turned around to give you a jaunty little salute before shooting out after them. “See ya!”

Sticking your head out the door, you yelled after them, “You better bring that back clean!”

Behind you, the drawl of your captain brought heat to your ears and cheeks. “Tailor-ya. Quite lively here.”

Stepping aside, you let Law into your workshop as you turned on the lights.

“Captain,” you greeted him. “Here to tell me off? Or Penguin to stop?”

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work, I don’t care what you do,” he drawled. “And isn’t this ‘good for raising team morale’?”

“The only thing it’s raising is my blood pressure,” you sighed.

“Sounds serious,” he deadpanned. “You know that too much salt in your diet tends to lead to hypertension.”

Your expression flattened as a distant scream echoed down the hall.

Though it was all in jest, none of you realized how close to home the story of a roaming spirit hit. In the corner of the ceiling, above the din and noise of all your antics, a transparent, ephemeral apparition looked on, the Polar Tang quietly rejoicing as her nakama expanding in numbers.

You Don't Need to Try to Belong

Sorry if the tone near the end doesn't quite match the rest of the fic something happened in the middle of me writing it and like all good writers do I used this as an emotional outlet. But hey, who doesn't want Marco to hold them amirite? This was meant to be shorter, but the rest of the crew hijacked it like the pirates they were.

Phoenix Marco x Reader (fluff, near-death experiences, dash of sickfic & hurt/comfort)

As the unofficial ‘Fixer-Upper’, the jack-of-all-trades of the Whiteboard Pirates with a helpful Devil Fruit to boot, you tend to overwork yourself helping any issues that arises. Sometimes at the detriment of your own health.

You don’t think you’d ever get used to seeing the sun rise over the horizon from your vantage point up in the Moby’s crow’s nest. 

The gentle blush of pink peeking over the horizon, watercolor-soft as the veil of the night pulled back. Blackness faded away to reveal the glittering waves of the ocean stretched seemingly infinitely all around you. It was a freedom given to you by the Whitebeard Pirates, one you could never repay.

Sunrise also had the added bonus of signifying the end of your lookout ship, the promise of your bed waiting for you.

Below you, on the deck, the morning bell rang out, signifying the official end of the night shift’s work. The hubbub of the ship coming to life stirred up as you climbed down the mast, seeing the specks of the other lookouts doing the same at the other crow’s nests. A few members glanced your way as your feet hit the deck, and you returned the greetings thrown at you, albeit with slightly less energy.

Your stomach growled as the aroma of food from the galley drifted over when you entered the halls. However, you didn’t join the others for breakfast like normal and instead went deeper into the Moby’s bowels to where the crew’s quarters were. You’d been bothered by a persistent headache all night, and you knew that going into the noisy mess hall would no doubt make it worse.

The shared cabin was thankfully empty for the most part, and you made it over to your hammock before collapsing into it and tugging the blanket up to your chin before blacking out, looking forward to the long, uninterrupted rest you’d get.

“WAKE UP!”

You grunted in pain as you were upended from your hammock, bedding and all falling down with you. Blearily, you sat up and squinted at the pair of legs in front of you, smacking your dry lips. You didn’t know how long it was since you’d fallen asleep, but you knew it was not long enough.

A freckled face and messy black hair invaded your vision, the inquisitive expression of one Portgas D. Ace showing who exactly it was that woke you up.

“Hey! Got a moment?”

Even though it was phrased as a question, you still found yourself forcibly dragged to your feet, his grip on your wrist the sole thing that kept you moving as you stumbled through the halls and out into the deck. Sunlight pierced your half-closed eyes, and you winced, squeezing them shut as you trusted Ace not to run you both into something. You two finally paused and you cracked your eyes open to show that you’d stopped in front of Striker, in all her dripping glory as she hung hoisted up over the deck.

Ace finally released your wrist, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry to drag ya all the to fix up the Striker for me? I’d ask Blenheim, but he’s with the other fleet right now.”

At the request of a fixing, you forcefully shook off your sleepiness. Tiredness still lingered, and that damn headache still nipped at your temple, but you pushed it all back. Alert eyes assessed the damage in front of you as you tuned into Ace’s chattering.

“I got cornered by a few small Marine scout boats and had to take the Striker through some sorta reef. Thought I got through it fine, but I guess the coral—”

A sudden thud.

You paused in your observation to haul Ace out of the way of the crew and lay him out straight before returning to the Striker. True to his word, the bottom of Striker’s hull was deeply scratched when you bent down to take a look at it. The wood was gouged in a few points, areas where leaks would’ve no doubt let in water. It was a miracle Ace made it back. You hummed at the thought, making a note to get Pops to talk with the young man about his recklessness.

The Striker swayed gently from the lines holding her up as you pushed gently, tilting your head to catch the sound of sloshing water in her bowels. It wouldn’t do to mend everything only to have her rot from the inside out by trapped moisture. When nothing came back, you nodded approvingly and crouched down, hand reaching up to touch the largest of the holes. There was a dim glow before the wood seemed to seal up wherever you dragged your fingers over it, returning to its previous pristine state. You did the same for the others, each spark and glow only tugging at the tiredness in your bones. It was light work, but you were still exhausted by the time you finished, opting to take a seat by Ace where he lay. You were only beginning to blink off into sleep when the young man sat back up.

“—scratched ‘er up real bad and—Oh.”

Ace blinked at the newly repaired full before turning to you, sending a thousand-kilowatt smile your way.

“F’xed it,” you mumbled, shooting him a thumbs up. Your head tilted to the side and you dozed off. While your Devil Fruit, the Mend Mend Fruit was extremely useful, it did take a toll on you.

Strong arms once again wretched you to your feet, and you squawked as Ace bodily hauled you off, cheerful as ever.

“Thanks so much! Let’s go get some food. I’m starvin’’”

You went limp in the newly minted commander’s hold, resigning yourself to your fate as he dragged you along to the mess. There were a few others there who were the stragglers from lunchtime.

Ace shifted you to drape over his shoulder like a sack as he assembled a plate for the two of you. The world flipped around as he set you down at a table, and you murmured your thanks, dragging heavy limbs to your utensils to force a few bites down.

A call of your name and a harried-looking Thatch halted right by your table, relief on his face. “There you are. Glad I could catch you. Think you can get that pipe done for us now?”

Your eyes widened as you straightened. Right. You were supposed to have stopped by this morning after breakfast to help fix up the leak in the piping that the division didn’t have the supplies to replace. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry, Thatch.”

Shooting to your feet, you pushed your plate to Ace and quickly set towards the galley, Thatch on your tail. The Fourth Division greeted you, wrapping up post-meal duties as they avoided one particular section in specific. Someone already peeled away the wooden boards to expose the problematic pipe, and rags were stuffed along the spaces in the wall and sprawled on the floor. As you approached, you noticed that there was something on the pipe. You squinted at the stain and sniffed.

“Is this–Is this dried molasses?!?” 

Thatch whistled and adverted his eyes under your scrutinizing stare. “We had to make do.”

You exhaled despairingly, pressing your fingers into the sticky mess. It was concerning how often you all ran short on miscellaneous supplies, despite being an Emperor’s crew. A glow sparked up, and you sealed the gap.

The sticky, dark substance stuck to your fingers as you withdrew them, and your stomach suddenly churned. Rushing to an empty sink, you quickly washed it off as you called back, “I’m not cleaning that.”

“Fair,” Thatch said. He withdrew a rag from his chef apron. “Thanks for this.”

You hummed as you exited the galley.

Somehow, those two actions seemed to unleash a catalyst upon your peace. The promise of rest seemed further and further away as you were directed all over the ship, fixing this odd thing or that odd part. Your headache never went away, only getting worse as nausea was added to the list.

Skull called out his thanks as you bolted away from him, clapping a hand over your mouth as you beelined for the railing. You made it just in time to empty your stomach over the side. The only food in your stomach—the meager bits you managed to shovel down before Thatch interrupted—splashed sadly into the water.

Shivering, you closed your eyes to block out the sight of the swaying waters below you. The railing dug into your stomach as you slumped down into it. Everything felt hot and cold at once, and you admitted to yourself that maybe it was time to lie down. No more using your Devil Fruit for today.

As you were straightening up, a scuffle broke out from behind you. It was two recruits, roughhousing or fighting, you couldn’t care either way. But before you could move, one of them stumbled and slammed into you. Your eyes widened as your grip slipped, and because of the way you were leaning over the railing, you felt gravity tugging you to the wrong side as you pitched overboard.

Your wide eyes were fixed on the spot where you just were, too stunned to make a peep. There was a shout of alarm on board.

It was never fun falling from the Moby Dick. Its massive size meant nothing less than a painful impact, and even a few broken bones if you were unlucky.

But you wouldn’t call yourself lucky either way if you fell over the Moby in the first place.

You slammed into the waves.

The first thing that hit you was the pain. Like crashing into solid brick, your back ached from bearing the brunt of the impact. Then the insidious cold seeped in, past your clothes, past your skin, until everything went numb. Bubbles swirled past you in a dizzying spectacle, and it would’ve been pretty if not for the death grip of the weight pulling down on your limbs.

Motes of bubbles passed your lips, but you had the foresight to not open your mouth, to not breathe. But that was all you could do as you sunk deeper, black edging into your vision.

They always said that drowning was a horrible way to go, the choking of water in your lungs. But to you, it felt soft. Like the welcoming of the tiredness you’d carried around all day.

It’s so easy,

Your eyes fluttered, lips cracking open, allowing the saltwater to rush in.

You could get the rest you wanted.

You didn’t feel the arms clamping around your waist to drag you upward.

But you did notice as the two of you breached the surface, water spewing out of your mouth as you coughed. It burned going up, and you clung limply to the form you now identified to be Rakuyo as he stretched up his other arm. “Bring us up!”

He crushed you to his chest as the two of you shot up from the water, hauled up by his living flail. You both landed on the deck again, him on his feet while you were still in his hold. However, that quickly changed as your body spasmed.

“Woah there!” The man exclaimed, quickly crouching down so you wouldn’t meet a second painful impact if you spilled out of his arms.

“Someone grab Marco!”

Quickly, you were set on your side. Just in time as you retched. More seawater (seriously you don’t know how you swallowed so much) came up, through your nose, through your mouth. Warm hands rubbed your back as you gathered the strength to prop yourself up, as the spasms continued. It would’ve been mortifying to have the crew see you like this if you hadn’t seen these same full-grown men projectile vomit their dinner after a few too many drinks. As of right now, you were busy trying not to feel like death warmed over. Someone’s oversized sash fell around your shoulders as they used it to dry you off of the cold water.

“What’s going on, yoi?”

Marco’s voice was like a balm to your raw nerves as indistinct voices murmured over your head. Someone draped something soft over you (a towel?) and you sneezed.

Like the world’s most pathetic, bedraggled, wet cat, you were picked up from underneath your arms and passed over to warmer ones.

“H-Hol’ on,” you slurred, getting wrapped up in the fabric around your shoulders. Your head lolled against a warm chest. “Might throw—throw up.”

Marco shushed you. “Don’t worry about it, yoi.”

Blue and gold flames fluttered to life around you, your aches and coldness fading away. However, you still felt that bone-deep tiredness, and your lungs still rattled wetly. 

“I’m taking you to the infirmary. We have to monitor your lungs, just in case.”

Aw, man. You hated to be a bother.

Weakly wriggling in his grip, you voiced your protests, “‘M fine. L-Lemme jus’ go sleep it off.”

“You can rest in the infirmary. I healed your superficial injuries, but I can’t fix the drain your Devil Fruit already pulled from you or expel any potential water. Don’t fight me on this, yoi.”

You let out an unintelligible noise, sagging deeper into his hold. The hubbub of the ship fell away into muffled peace as he entered the infirmary, greeting the nurses there.

“Goodness! What happened?” Lisa asked as she pulled out more towels and a pair of spare clothes.

“We had a tumble off the deck,” Marco said, setting you down on a bed in the corner and stepping back for the nurse to let her set the clothes down by your side. He grabbed the privacy curtain, readying to pull it close as he asked you, “Think you can get changed, yoi? Lisa or another nurse can assist if you think you’ll need help.”

You looked down at your shaking hands, then to the set of folded clothes beside you. It was a simple enough shirt and pants, nondescript for their versatility. “I’ll be f-f-f-fine.”

The shiver that broke your words into a stutter wasn’t convincing, but Marco didn’t push it as he pulled the curtains closed around you to give you a bit of privacy. His voice came from the other side, “Let me know when you’re done, yoi.”

It took you much longer than you’d like to admit, wrangling yourself into the change of clothes, but just when Marco began shuffling on the other side of the curtain, you managed to pull the collar of the shirt over your head with your stiff limb and wrapped your hair in a towel.

“I’m d-do-done.”

The curtains were pulled open again and Marco stepped through. In the span of time it took for you to change, the man had collected equipment of his own. His stethoscope hung around his neck, and he carried a blanket rolled up under an arm and a thermometer.

“Just a precaution, yoi,” he said when he saw you eyeing his getup. You took the blanket when he handed it to you. The back of his hand came up to rest on your forehead and he hummed as he began putting on his stethoscope. “I want to listen to your lungs and keep you here to rest up.”

Letting out a put-upon sigh, you tilted your head back, staying still as Marco pressed the cold metal of the chest piece into your skin, expression calm as he focused on your breathing. After a few moments, he pulled away and tugged off the instrument.

“Your breathing sounds alright from what I could tell, yoi. But your temperature’s a little out of its normal range. How are you feeling, yoi?”

With the assessment done, you pulled away and curled up on the bed, tugging the blanket up. “Blegh, fine. I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

“You do that, yoi,” Marco said, patting your shoulder. “I’ll watch over you.”

Letting out a huff, you allowed the lull of sleep to finally pull you under.

***

Warm hands on your forehead and cheek stirred you from the fretful slumber you were in, and you murmured, trying to pull away from the disturbance. Your breath whistled when you sighed, nose closed by a painful pressure and the rattle when you breathed seemed more prominent than ever.

There was a quiet tut before they came back with greater insistence, pulling you into a sitting position. You resisted, but your limbs felt leaden when you tried to lift them up. A slow, pounding pain pulsed in your temples on top of that, intensifying when you cracked your eyes open. You squeezed them shut again, but that peek was enough to see the slight chastisement on Marco’s expression as you identified him to be the one taking care of you.

His voice was low, kept to a manageable level that wouldn’t upset your head as he said, “Looks like you’re getting a fever, yoi. That’s strange.”

Blue flickered through your closed eyes as a gentle wash of his flames coursed through you. The pounding in your head lessened

“Tried my best to alleviate some of your symptoms, but since most of them aren’t physical injuries, I don’t think helped much.”

“It’s fine,” you rasped, blinking the crustiness from your eyes as you sat up. “Thanks for tryin’”

He hummed, pulling away. “What I’m surprised about is that you’re getting so sick from a dip in the waters. As far as I’m aware, the waters in this part of the Grand Line should be temperate enough to avoid that issue, yoi. Unless…” He narrowed his eyes at you, suspicion flashing in his gaze as he picked up on your guilty air. “You were on deck at a time where you would usually be asleep, yoi. Why weren’t you resting?” 

“Listen,” you began. “You’re not allowed to scold anybody involved in it…”

Marco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like I already know who it is, yoi?”

“Ace took me out to help fix Striker,” you agreed, ignoring Marco’s muttered ‘I knew it’. “Then we swung by the galley where there was something I forgot to fix for Thatch. Some of the crew caught me about, and it kind of escalated from there.”

The way the man tilted his head was distinctively avian. “Now, why would you do that, yoi? We’ve discussed using your Devil Fruit when you’re tired.”

You pursed your lips and adverted your eyes, shrugging. “I dunno. I couldn’t just say no.”

His eyes softened. “You know… You’re deserving of rest when you’re tired. You don’t need to bend over backward to please us. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Unbidden, you felt tears spring up in your eyes, and you blamed it on the mess running through your system, pulling away so you could wipe them.

However, Marco’s hands came up to hold your face, thumb wiping away the bit of saltiness that spilled over your lashes.

“Silly love,” Marco murmured as he tugged you into his chest and enveloped you.

Pliantly allowing it to happen, your face ended up buried in his chest. His hand rubbed your back comfortingly as he shifted to take a seat and pulled you into his lap. You sank deeper into him, instinctively relaxing at the soothing warmth he emitted.

“Nobody would think less of you for resting. There’s no payment to be on the crew beyond what you can safely provide. And you’ve done plenty, are doing plenty. Pops is not going to kick you out if you don’t repair Skull’s necklace or somebody’s sandals for the fiftieth time. You belong with us. We want you.”

You closed your eyes in embarrassment, hands coming up to cover your face. Marco’s chuckle jostled you a little bit, and the arm around your waist squeezed you, dragging you even closer to him. His flames flickered over you again, and you went boneless against him, hands dropping from your face. The ache in your chest that you didn’t even know you were carrying lightened with his presence.

“You just rest now, yoi. I’ll take care of you.”

You sighed, a trembling shaky thing. “Thank you, Marco.”

And Tonight, We’ll Be Warm

It is technically still the 25th where I am so have a holiday-related fic! This is just an excuse to write that obligatory Christmas fic that nobody asked for

Whitebeard Pirates x Reader (no particular pairing but very Ace-centric)

The Whitebeard Pirates never needed an excuse to party, but surprisingly, they always celebrated one specific holiday.

The sight of white flecks on the deck heralded the arrival of the Moby Dick to its destination, the cheery winter island in front of you a familiar sight. You couldn’t see it at this distance, but you had no doubt that if you asked Marco, he’d say that it was decked out in its annual holiday decoration already.

Around you, the hustle and bustle of docking preparations were in full swing, excitement filling the chilly air more than usual. Every year, on the same day and if time was willing, Pops liked to return to this specific island, deep in the heart of his territory, known for its celebration this time of year. It was done often enough that the locals left a special place for the Whitebeards and the crew always brought in supplies when they came. What would commence would be a two-day, island-wide celebration where the Whitebeards and even other friendly crews would toss aside their worries to rejoice. Though Pops’s family may have been a wide assortment of characters from all over the Blues, it was a unanimous agreement that all of you would indulge in this holiday because of how much joy it brought the old man. Though as pirates, there was never a reason needed to party.

You’d been with the crew long enough to have attended a few, the first few times never something you’d never forget. Overwhelming in the best of days, there would be lots of work done once you docked to unload the supplies and crates, but then the locals would whisk it all away and the crew would be able to release themselves upon the festivities. There would be stalls upon stalls of vendors selling indulgent foods, gifts, and knickknacks for the holidays. And—of course—the booze. It was a pirate island, after all.

A relieved cheer broke out as the Moby coasted gently to a stop, a few of those who could handle the jump vaulting over the side onto the dock, while those who remained up top tossed down the mooring line for them. You double-checked the ropes on the winches responsible for lowering the cargo and leaned over to ensure that nobody was in the way.

“Lowering the crates!” You yelled down to the people milling down below. The worn wooden crank was familiar in your work-calloused hands as you cranked it, lowering the creaking platforms of foods and ingredients down. A ‘thump’ and the lines slackening signaled the contact with the dock below you, and you left the unpacking to the ground crew.

Beelining for the rope ladder, you scaled down it to join the others, an eager grin pulling at your cheeks. Wagons waited for their loads, but you left that to those like Fossa and Blenheim, the likes of them able to move much more efficiently when they had no smaller crewmates running underfoot. Your eyes darted across the space, seeking one specific person. For once, a majority of the crew had a shirt and jacket on, only the hardiest of them forgoing it, so it was easy for you to find that tattoo stretched across a tanned back.

“Ace!”

The young man spun around, seeking the call of his name. You started toward him, waving to attract his attention. He returned your grin easily as the two of you met up. Close to him, you couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Despite your layers, it was still bitingly cold with the snow fluttering down. But with Ace nearby, his heater tendencies, courtesy of his Fruit, were a warm balm against the low temperatures.

“You were right, this does look fun!” Ace said, hands on his hips as he regarded the festivities beyond the dock. I’m glad I’ll have someone to lead me around.”

“Hm.” You rubbed your hands, fingertips red. “I’ll show you all the good places to hit up. Ignore what Commander Marco says. He’s a geezer who’s got outdated tastes.”

“Does he now, yoi?”

You stiffened, spine prickling with unease as footsteps came close. The warmth of the other flame-related Devil Fruit user on your back betrayed his approach. You shot Ace a nervous smile, grabbing his shoulders and swinging behind him to escape the fingers that skimmed the collar of your jacket. Grabbing the black-haired man’s hand, you readied to bolt but flailed when he didn’t move.

“C’mon! We gotta run!”

Ace glanced back at you, shrugging helplessly, still gripping your hand.

“You should know better,” Marco tsked as he stopped in front of Ace (and you, who ensured you were soundly on the opposite side of Ace from him). He crossed his arms, a lazy smile twitching into something mischievous. “We have to wait for Pops, yoi.”

As if that mention summoned him, the ground trembled with the impact of your captain landing down from his leap off the ship. He did a sweeping glance over his nakama, still milling about the dock as they waited for his arrival, and unleashed his booming laughter. “What are you all waiting for? Go have fun, my children!”

Noise erupted over the dock, and you suddenly found Ace very agreeable as you ran away from Marco. The two of you darted into the crowd, away from the blonde.

“Go! Go! GO!” You yelled as Ace swept you onto his back, laughing as he bolted. You wrapped an arm around his neck to keep balance, while the other one pointed in front of him to where you wanted him to go. Rakuyo jumped out of the way just in time to avoid being plowed over, and Atmos bellowed in laughter when Ace ducked under his arm, revealing you clinging to his back.

Despite you acting as a backpack for him, Ace was barely winded when you finally told him to stop. He regarded the street around you with wide eyes as you slid off him, dusting your clothes. “Where to know?”

You pointed to a little stall that had a small metal stove by its side. “First order of business: Drinks!”

The little old lady there waved as you approached, a smile of familiarity greeting you. “Welcome back, dearie. I see you’ve brought a friend!”

Nodding, you stepped aside to showcase the now-shy ravenette to her. “Hi again Miss Rose. This is Ace! He joined us a little while ago.”

“Showing him around, I see…” Miss Rose said

“Yep,” you said. “I gotta do it since I don’t want to put him through the history lesson that Commander Marco might’ve exposed him to. And I thought it’d be good to start everything off with drinks from your stall!”

Miss Rose tilted her head, an apologetic expression falling onto her face. “I’m sorry, dearie, but my stove just went out, you see. I sent my son off to fetch flint, but it’s going to be a while before I can get anything warm for you.”

“I can help!” Ace said, straightening up as he lifted a hand, small flames flickering to life. He, however, quickly extinguished it, and added on nervously, “I-If you want.”

The woman didn’t flinch at the small display of Ace’s powers, long-familiar with Devil Fruit displays on an island such as this, and toddled over to the stove, pulling open the door, and stepped aside for Ace. “Oh, if you could, that would be delightful.”

Caught off guard by the open friendliness, Ace glanced at you in a silent question. You bumped him forward with your shoulder. “Yeah. Miss Rose has the best cider all around, and you can’t start the festivities without getting a cup.”

Ace exhaled with a smile, sticking his hand into the open maw of the stove. With a flash of orange, the lumber within it lit up. The door was closed, and Miss Rose quickly put a pot over the top. Within moments, the warm smell of spices suffused the air and the pot’s content bubbled merrily away. Miss Rose moved with a speed that belied her age as she quickly set up two steaming cups of liquid. You barely just finished fishing out the appropriate payment before they were shoved into your grasp. Passing one to Ace, you slid the coins over to her quicker than she could react. Grabbing Ace, you led him away despite the woman’s protests refusing your payment and called back, “Thanks, Miss Rose!”

Your action prompted a curious look from him as the two of you hurried from her stand. “What was that about?”

“She’s too kind for her own good, and if I didn’t do that, she would’ve tossed my coin back at my face,” you explained. Taking a long sip, you let out a satisfied sigh at the warmth spreading through your guts and prompted Ace, “Try it.”

He took a tentative sip. Your catlike grin widened as his eyes lit up, and he went in for seconds. “Woah, this is good…”

“Mhm,” you hummed, turning to look at the busy street in front of you. You pulled the cup closer to your face to allow the steam to warm up your cold nose. “It’s good that we got here before the crew. Otherwise, we’d be fighting Kingdew for a spot in line.”

Ace didn’t reply, and you glanced over to see him staring at the colorfully lit lanterns above you that cast festive colors onto the street. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was nice seeing the awe on his face, and you realized this must’ve been why Marco was chuckling at you when it was your first time on the island. 

The growl emitting from him broke you out of your reverie, and you chuckled, hefting a bag of Berry in your hands.

“Alright Ace, since it’s your first time here, you can get any food you want, my treat. But—” You held up a finger when he brightened, “Only as much as this pouch can pay, and don’t spoil your appetite for later.”

“What’s for later?” Ace asked as he began walking to the nearest food stall, something to do with skewers.

“Five, please,” you said pleasantly to the vendor. Glancing back at Ace, you said. “There’s always a big feast and bonfire set up. It’s great. You’ll love it.”

The food was given to you, and you exchanged it with the correct amount of bills, passing four of the roasted chestnut and meat sticks to Ace while you kept one to yourself. Silence stretched between you two for a few minutes as the food was savored. As you were crunching through a chunk of chestnut, you heard Ace murmur, “Lu’ would’ve liked this.”

You swallowed your bite. Aside from his explosive (literally) introduction to the crew, there were a few other things about him that he never kept quiet about, one of them being his very cherished brother. “Oh yeah? I mean, this island is known for good chestnuts year-round, so food like this is common anytime. You can bring him here when you meet him again.”

Ace polished off his second skewer, expression wistful as he murmured, “Yeah…”

“Oi, you two!”

Like twin dogs, the two of you turned to the call. Thatch waved at you, Izou by his side. The former looked a little silly, with a sprinkling of snow piling up atop his pompadour, while the latter looked immaculate in his dark-blue kimono, its woven threats gleaming when it caught the lights. Amusement lit up the two Commanders’ faces when they saw the food in Ace’s hold.

“Putting another person’s wallet to work already, I see,” Izou said with a small smirk on his painted lips.

“Well, better than the alternative,” Thatch quipped, hands on his hips. “The locals may like us, but that can change if someone decides to dine and dash.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you pipped up. “I’m treating Ace today since it’s his first time.”

“How thoughtful,” Izou said. “You would have had the same result tossing your wallet in the sea.”

“I know better! I only brought a set amount.”

“Hey!” Ace protested. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

You, Thatch, and Izou exchanged glances. A beat of silence passed.

Thatch was the first to crack, folding in half as mirth shook his body, and you had to make efforts not to spill your drink in your laughter. Even Izou cracked, one fist coming up to cover his mouth as he snorted. Ace leveled a betrayed look at you all.

“By the way,” Thatch began, once he finally reigned his laughter back in control. “Where are the two of ya headed?”

Shrugging, you motioned down the street you two were on. “Just roaming for the most part, but the goal is to the town center to show Ace the stage before going to the bonfire.

“Hm. Mind if we join y’all?”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind. Ace?”

Silence greeted you, and you whirled around to find him face down in the snow, breathing deeply. Somehow, he still held his drink and food aloft. Sighing, you sent the other men a helpless look.

“We can wait until he wakes up to see what he wants,” Izou amended. “Let’s move him to the bench over there.”

Thatch smiled, lifting a hand. “If ya can grab the food and cup, I’ll carry our resident flamethrower out of the street.”

Chugging the rest of your cider, you crouched down and carefully wormed the sticks and cup out of Ace’s hands. There was no food left, so you tossed those, but Ace’s cup was still three-quarters full and steaming, so you decided to keep that for yourself. At your go-ahead, Thatch effortlessly lifted Ace’s snoozing form, while Izou cut ahead to dust off the coating of snow from the seat. Thatch set Ace down first before sitting down, and you immediately claimed the other empty spot of the sleeping Logia-user, sighing in happiness at the warmth that bled off him.

“I’m surprised that you’re not with Commander Marco, sirs,” you admitted, moving to sip from the cider cup.

You squawked as Thatch took it from you, using his long reach to lean over Ace. He took a sip from it and hummed. “Ah, that’s good. From Miss Rose?”

Sulkily side-eyeing him, you nodded.

“And stop with the ‘Commander’ stuff. We’re off-duty, and we’re all friends anyway.”

“Well, as my friend, you should give me back my drink.”

“Is it really yours in the first place, if you took it from Ace?” Izou asked. He waved the cup away when Thatch offered it to him.

As the brown-haired man was leaning back, Ace suddenly shot forward, knocking into him. The cup flew out of Thatch’s grasp, spilling its contents onto the snow in front of you all. Izou hissed, jerked the hem of his kimono away, and shot the others a poisonous look.

“Haahhhhh? Since when did we sit down?”

“Since you decided the snow would be a good cushion for your face,” Izou replied.

“Ah dang, was I out for long?”

“No,” you said. “Thatch and Izou were wondering if they could tag along with us.”

Ace stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “I don’t see why not! As long as your offer still holds up.”

Sighing in exasperation, you stood up with a shake of your head and a smile on your face. “Fine. But if you want to explore, we gotta get going.”

Your words were a reminder of the changing sky, the days shorter in the thick of winter. The others all agreed, and once everyone gathered themselves, you all set off again. Your motley crew would’ve struck an unusual sight, with Thatch’s stature and hair, Izou’s elegant dress, and Ace completely bare-chested in the snow, but the locals of this island were long-used to it, a few folks even greeting the Commanders by name.

The festival was still as eye-catching as ever, with the soft haze of snowfall spreading a dreamy air over everything. True to his nature, Ace ended up dragging you to a few more food stalls. You four wandered with no hurry, simply basking in the peaceful, jovial air that was seldomly seen on the seas.

“I wonder how long these chestnuts can keep,” Thatch mused as he rotated a candied chestnut in his fingers. Popping it into his mouth, he passed you one from his cup. “I have plenty of recipes that’ll be nice for the colder weeks when we’re sailing.”

“I think if you can store them in the ice closet, they can last up to six months!” you chirped.

You could see his mind beginning to form ideas. “That’s plenty of time. I doubt they’ll last that long. Since it’s so cheap here, I think I’ll arrange for an order to the Moby tomorrow.”

A folded hand fan whapped Thatch on the side of the head, Izou tucking it back from wherever he summoned it from when the brown-haired man turned to him. 

“What gives, you bastard?!?”

“Stop talking about work,” Izou sniffed. “We’re here to relax and enjoy the festivities, damn you.”

Thatch leaned down into Izou’s space. “Well, you didn’t need to hit me!”

While the two senior members squabbled like little kids, you turned your attention to Ace, seeing him contemplating the roasted squid in his hands like it contained the secrets of the world.

“What’s wrong?” You said, popping your head over his shoulder. “It raw?”

Ace blinked, shaking his head and taking a big bite out of it. “Nah. Just thinkin’.”

“Don’t hurt your head over it,” you said. “Now’s a time to turn it off.”

He hummed, and you linked your arm with his and marched forward.

“Well, we’re almost at the town center. You’d like it, I think. And if you don’t, it’ll be something to distract you, yeah? No worries.”

Izou and Thatch fell in line when they saw the two of you heading off. One was fixing the collar of his kimono, while the other had a red mark on his forehead. Neither said anything when you raised a teasing eyebrow in question.

You led them down the streets until it opened up into a wide space, the large, towering pine tree in the middle marking your arrival to the town center.

Ace froze as he gawked at the monster of a tree in front of you all. “Holy shit.”

Tall enough to make even Pops look small standing next to its trunk, the ancient growth was decked out in flickering candles and carved, wooden ornaments of all colors. Bands of embroidered cloth swayed gently, depicting the winter flowers that bloomed this time of year.

“This is one of the island’s pride and joy,” You told Ace, banking on the information Marco told you during your first time. Damn, if he knew, he would never let you live this down. “It was said that this tree was already massive by the time people settled onto this island, and it was decided that they would keep it and treasure it. The festivals came later, but this tree was integrated into every celebration as well. Looks like we came just in time.”

Chattering quieted as a door hidden in the tree trunk opened. A pair of men walked forward to the platform mounted there, rolling some sort of canon in between them.

“It’s safe,” you reassured Ace as you saw him shift in nervousness. “Just watch!”

With a muffled pop, a flurry of flat, petaled shapes shot up into the air. The crowd roiled, eager hands reaching up as the large charms fluttered down. This was what you came here for. This town’s yearly charms, hand-carved from a specific type of lightweight crystal only found here. When refined down into the flowers and the snowflakes fluttering down upon you now, they caught the light in a kaleidoscope of rainbows. They were beautiful.

And very desired.

“Quickly,” you hissed, pushing Ace forward. “Try and grab one! They say that whoever got one will have good luck for the upcoming year.”

Unsure, the man reached out, only to have it snatched in front of his fingertips. The old lady who took it from him gave him a sharp glare and toddled off.

A spark of competitiveness lit up in Ace’s eyes. “Oh, that does it.”

The two of you shared a look of determination, exchanging a nod before delving into the crowd.

“Over here, Ace!”

“Too far!”

“Watch out for that lady!”

Your teamwork fell in line seamlessly, the months together on the seas and all the training and fighting giving you and Ace a leg up. Though it always seemed like there were five people trying for every one charm. Eventually, there was nothing left in reach, but you spotted one still fluttering above the crowd. You were not the only one, as you locked eyes with a burly man who was bullying his way through the crowd toward it. The two of you scowled at each other, and you stuck out your tongue at him.

Looking back at it again, you saw that it was out of reach for even the tallest folks.

But not too tall for what you had in mind.

Spinning around, you pointed at the crystal and yelled out, “Ace!”

The man turned around to spot it, and you quickly took a knee, putting your cupped hands low to the ground. A move that you’d done once or twice before.

“Go for it!” You yelled, hiding a wince when an elbow dug into your back.

Ace stepped back, lining himself up before running towards you. His boot landed in your palms, and you pushed yourself upward, propelling him up with you as he jumped. You turned around to see his trajectory, a wild grin on your face. Ace had a similar expression, one hand on his hat while the other was outstretched as he approached the snowflake. With bated breath, you watched as his fingers grazed the edges of the charm, seemingly missing it before, with a burst of flames from his legs, he propelled himself up a bit and the charm landed in his grasp. With the prize secured, he brought it to his chest and pivoted in the air, landing at an empty spot with a perfectly tucked roll.

You let out a whoop, throwing your arms up in victory, before moving your way through the crowd to where Ace landed. Your cheeks ached not just from the cold, but also from the size of the grin overtaking you sported. Spotting Ace, you hauled him up and pulled him into a hug, your laughter ringing out in the air.

“You got it!”

His cheeks were flushed as well when you pulled back, a pearly smile on his face. “Yeah.”

The crowd’s excitement was dying down and a part of you dropped in dismay over the fact that you’d missed your chance to grab something, too busy making sure Ace had his moment to focus on your own. But you were at least glad that Ace managed to get one of the charms of his own, so you shoved down that bit of sadness.

“What shape did you get?” You asked. “Can I see?” 

He pulled the hand holding his charm away from his chest, and your eyes widened in excitement at the sight of a flat carving of a flame lily. As he lifted it into the air, the clear crystal caught the light, throwing out fiery red and orange iridescence from within its lattice.

“A flame lily, lucky you!” You shot him a thumbs-up. “That’s the most prized one. A symbol of undying warmth in the cold. Good luck is definitely coming your way.”

“There you two are,” Thatch said, panting a bit as he got through the crowd. “You crazy little cretins, I can’t believe you two did that! And don’t deny it, I saw Ace in the air.”

You whistled, adverting your eyes. “Welllll, it was worth it. Ace got this year’s Flame Lily. How ‘bout you?”

“Right here,” Thatch sighed, reaching into the top of his pompadour and pulling out a glittering, clear hexagonal plate that had flashes of smoky black when he tilted it. “Some lady tried stealing it from my hands after I got it.”

“Looks like all that hair really is useful for something,” you chuckled.

He harrumphed, tucking it in the inner breast pocket of his coat. “Whatever. Did you get one this year?”

You shook your head, a rueful smile on your face. “Nah. Looks like my collection is not growing this year.”

You only caught a flash of guilt on Ace’s face before something was thrust into your face.

“Here,” Izou drawled, a bored look on his face.

Going cross-eyed, you took a step back to see what it was. Your eyes widened when you saw the intricate poinsettia carving in his hand, the details of the flower it was mimicking catching the light prettily.

“I found this stuck to mine,” he said, motioning to the bird-shaped crystal peeking out of the collar of his kimono before you could ask. He shook it. “Take it. I don’t need two of them.”

“Aww, you do care,” you teased as you reached for it.

Izou jerked it out of your grip, raising it out of your reach. “I am not above breaking it over your head.”

“No don’t! I’ll be good, I promise!”

He finally gave it to you, huffing out of his nose as he swept past the tree of you. “Fine. Let’s go. We need to head to the beach if we want to catch the bonfire in time.”

At this point, the sky was blue-hued with the end of sunset, the chill settling deeper into your bones. But still, the lights and candles kept the island festivities in full swing.

“So, what do we do with these things?” Ace asked, inspecting his lily carving.

“You just keep it.” You shrugged. “Put ‘em in a box or something. It’s your choice. Hell, you can even toss them into the ocean, but make sure to point out where you did it so I can go diving for it.”

Ace hummed in thought, glancing over to see your expectant gaze on him. With a smile and shrug, he shoved it into his pant pocket. “I guess I’ll keep it. So what are we doing now?”

“Bonfire should start soon,” you affirmed. “There’ll be food and drinks, the full Whitebeard Pirates shebang, yaknow?”

The growling of a stomach was the response you received from him, and you chuckled.

“We’re almost there,” Thatch reassured. 

True enough, you four took the stone steps down from the edge of the town, where your shoes immediately sunk into sand. Already, you could hear the hubbub of conversation, men on their way to getting sloshed. There was a chorus of greetings that rose when those present saw you four.

“Finally,” Atmos roared, his beer sloshing over his tankard. “Was thinkin’ you guys died fighting in the town center.”

Izou scoffed, sweeping past him as he headed for where Vista and Haruta were. “Please. As if I’d be taken out by something so simple.”

“I’m going to check out to see if the Fourth Division needs any help,” Thatch called, splitting away too.

That left you and Ace again, and you steered him toward a table set up with food. You unleashed him upon the meal, picking up a few things that pulled at your interests too, and allowing yourself to mingle with everyone.

Like most other Whitebeard parties, it was easy to be swept up in the merriment. At one point, you managed to wrangle a spot beside Haruta as he lit up the main bonfire, toasts being called out into the air. Smaller bonfires went up around the beach too, like twinkling, golden stars in the dark.

And when the moon was high in the sky, just about the time when you knew the spectacle of the night would begin, you sought out Ace again.

He was warm as you slung an arm over his shoulder, warmer than even the slight bit of alcohol coursing through your veins. “Aceyyyyyyyyy. Come on closer to the bonfire.”

“Hm? Why’s that.”

You pointed to the towering back of Blenheim in front of you. “Too many tall ones over ‘ere. And you’re warm, but I wanna be warmer.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a heat hog,” he said, rising from his seat at your insistent tugging. 

Fossa smirked at him when he saw the two of you pass by. “Looks like you’re the victim this time, brat. Good.”

You stuck your tongue out at the older man, aiming towards a log laid on as a seat, angled to look into the island instead of out over the sea. Plopping into it with none of the grace you normally held when somber, you sighed at the heat that suffused your back from the bonfire.

At Ace’s questioning look at you, you raised your arm and pointed over the top of the island, where the top of the pine tree could be seen peeking out. “You’ll wanna watch o’er there. It’s good. I promise.”

Following your words were the lights from the town being extinguished, plunging the inland into darkness. Soon, the only lights came from the bonfires dotting the beaches like fireflies as everyone settled. An air of excitement took over the party, those sober and not tilting their heads up to the sky.

A whistle announced the first of the launches before the sky exploded with color. Fireworks bloomed in their brilliant glory, popping and crackling hues of sparkling rainbows before fading out. It was stunning as ever, but since you’d seen it a few times before, you chanced a glance at the man next to you.

Ace’s eyes were wide, the glow of the firelight making them glitter. You smiled softly at the way it transformed his features into something softer.

Even though you haven’t known him for long, the look on his face earlier was too somber for your liking. The two of you may not be close-knit, but you were at least friendly with him on the account of you two being newer to the crews. So to see that troubled look that bellied something deeper made you worried. You may not be close enough to pry, but at the least, you hoped that this was enough to lift his spirits lightly.

You tore your gaze from the black-haired male just in time to see the second round of fireworks going up. More impressive than the last, this time the fireworks were set up into shapes. All around you, cheers rose from the crew as the doggy face of Stephan bloomed into view, followed by an impressive arrangement forming the Moby Dick. 

As this round began to die down, Marco appeared at your side, handing you a steaming drink. “Here, yoi. Keep warm.”

Reaching for it, you asked, “Is it warmed rum?”

“No. I’m not letting you have that again, yoi.” He turned to Ace and jabbed a thumb at you. “No matter how much this one asks, no more of Raykuyo’s rum, alright? I promise you don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

You sulkily sipped from the cup, finding that it was hot chocolate. Sweet, yet not too heavy to upset your stomach. “Whatever, I drink it ‘cause it chases the chill away.”

“You have Ace with you, yoi.”

“I’m still cold!” you barked. Your eyes gained a calculating gleam as you shuffled closer to Ace, your free hand whipping out to latch onto Marco’s wrist. “But if you’re insisting, why don’t you come have a seat, Marco? I’m sure you’re awfully tired, and it’s an awfully good view to see the fireworks.

His half-lidded eyes were knowing as he moved to sit beside you, bracketing you on all three sides with heat. You sighed in happiness, and relaxed, returning your focus to the sky.

With the bonfire at your back, Ace and Marco by your side, and the crew all around you, your heart was warm.

Japes and Jubilations, Pt 2

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces Masterlist

The various antics of the crews and the various ways you’re involved in it.

(Part 1) | YOU ARE HERE | (Part 3) | (Part 4)

Part 2: Soaked

You learn a wise lesson about avoiding Penguin and Shachi after their swim patrols.

The seasoned members of the crew knew better enough than to hang around the wet room or the surrounding areas when Penguin and Shachi came back from their dives.

You, however, were not a seasoned member of the crew. You were never around when the pair headed into the waters, or came back, so you thought nothing of it when you stuck your head into a room upon earring splashing sounds coming from it. Your eyes widened when you saw the strangely structured room and the two equally drenched crew members. 

“Well, that was a good patrol, Peng!” Shachi said, muscles staining as he closed the door and sealed it shut with the hand wheel.  “And we got fish for dinner, too!”

Water poured from them both—and the net of writhing fish at Penguin’s feet—running in rivulets to the drains set throughout the room.

“Oh, hey!” Penguin grinned, catching sign of you. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” you began. “I just heard water splashing and got curious. What’s this room?”

Penguin let out an ‘ah’. “That’s right. You haven’t seen it yet, huh?”

Before you could even blink, Shachi was right next to you. To your horror, one soaking-wet arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into an equally wet side. You flinched, hands coming up to push him away. The redhead clung to you like a limpet, however, dragging you into the room in question.

“This is the wet room!” Shachi explained, throwing an arm out as if to showcase it. In the background, Penguin made little jazz hands. 

“Cool,” you said limply, lamenting your clothes. It didn’t explain why they were dripping wet, though. 

Penguin’s hat-–still on his head—squelched as he wrung out the flaps. “You have no idea what we’re talking around, do you?”

You shook your head as Shachi wilted in disappointment.

“The island we come from is a North Blue island,” Penguin explained. “For ours, we have especially cold harbors, and a high percentage of the population also boast fishman ancestry.”

You squinted. “So you and Shachi are part fishmen, then?”

“Yep!” Shachi said, popping the ‘p’. He leaned closer and grinned, pulling at his mouth to show you his teeth. A veritable row of canines gleamed at you, sharp and pointed like a predator’s.

“Huh,” you said eloquently. Your uniform dripped onto the floor.

Penguin lifted the ears of his hat when you looked over, giving you a peek of the short, dark hair by the side of his head. On his temple was a scattering of smooth, pale-blue and black  scales, glinting in the light. They littered his hairline in small patches down to his neck, peeking through the dark strands of hair there.

“Pretty…”

Shachi groaned. “‘Pretty’, is that all you have to say??? Seriously?? I have fangs! We have gills!”

“Back to the point,” Penguin redirected before Shich could strip down to show you wherever his gills were. “This is the room Shachi and I use to get in and out of the sub underwater. The inventor who made this submarine built it especially for us, but it’s good for the crew to know how it works too.”

Shachi finally left your side to slap the door he was closing earlier. “This bad boy is fitted with a two-door system, both with built-in seals. The first hatch is on the outside and opens slowly to let water and us in from the outside. It closes and a system drains and pumps it back out. Once done, this inner door unseals and Penguin and I can enter the sub.”

“The two-door system helps control the water pressure, so there’s less chance of a leak,” Penguin said.

“Penguin-ya, Shachi-ya are you guys still in here—” Law stopped and stared at you, a pitying look on his face. “Ah, you got poor Tailor-ya…”

You squinted at that statement and his all too knowing look at your state, trying to straighten out your clothes. “W-What do you mean? Is this like something common?”

“Well…” Penguin began.

Shachi began whistling innocently.

“The crew always avoid them when they come back because they always latch on to the nearest person before changing out,” Law said. “Everyone’s been a victim of them at least once. I forgot to warn you.”

“Well, at least I’m not all the way wet,” you grumbled, pulling at your shirt.

“I’m surprised about that, too,” Law drawled, shifting his sword on his shoulder. “Usually both of them go for their victim at once.”

That was the wrong thing to say as both men stilled, head turning to look at you before at each other.

“Hug time!” They exclaimed.

Your eyes widened. “Hey, hey, hey, NO—”

Two bodies slammed into either side of you, pinning you in between them with a wet squelch.

At seeing your distraught expression, Law grimaced in sympathy. 

Both men had to unstick themselves from you, attention going to Law as they dragged you along. “Let’s get Cap!”

He quickly pulled up his Devil Fruit Powers to Shamble away, a scrap of paper fluttering to the ground where he was.

Japes and Jubilation, Pt 1

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces Masterlist

The various antics of the crews and the various ways you’re involved in it.

YOU ARE HERE | (Part 2) | (Part 3) | (Part 4)

Part 1: Eyebrows

Hakugan comes with a little request

Rapid-fire knocking—no, pounding at your door made you scowl and throw down the pair of pants in your hands. What was the point of telling the crew to knock so they wouldn’t disturb your work if they’d go ahead and slam on your door like the world was ending?

Yanking the door open, you greeted the perpetrator with a curt, “What?”

Hakugan swayed on his feet, as if he didn’t almost bring your door down. Uncaring of your irritation, he leaned closer to you. “Are you free? Can I come in?”

You raised an eyebrow but stepped aside. “What do you need, Hakugan?”

“Do you have any of that sticky fabric thing?”

“What?”

Hakugan brought his hand together and pulled them apart, mimicking some sort of ripping, peeling sound.

“... Do you mean velcro?”

“Yes! Do you have any more of that.”

“I do, why?”

He leaned closer to you, excitement in his body language. “I have an idea.”

Seeing the man nearly vibrating in unrestrained glee, you held your composure for a few seconds before ultimately caving. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Hakugan let out a little cheer, leaning closer as he rapid-fired off his idea to you. A slow smile cracked over your face as you envisioned the visual laid out. “Okay. I’ll do it. Do you have a spare?”

Hakugan whipped out a mask from the recesses of his boiler suits, and you twitched at the fact he already prepared for your involvement with it. You shook your head, disappointed with yourself that you were using such precious materials on something so silly. The only saving grace (and reason that you were doing it in the first place) was that there were some scraps left over from when you made the attachable pockets for the boiler suits.

As you laid out everything on your work table and turned your light on, you could feel the helmsman hovering behind you, peering over your shoulders. You got through the first half of your task, used to the man’s antics. It wasn’t a bother until your elbow began knocking into Hakugan. You stopped your work and looked back at him, and he tilted his face up to you, cocking his head silently.

Before you could regret it, you gingerly offered him your sewing needle. “Do you want to try?”

Hakugan perked up, and you could almost imagine an imaginary tail wagging behind him. “Are you sure?”

“Yos. I’ll walk you through it.”

He was a surprisingly good student, attentive and focused despite what his general demeanor might’ve shown him to be. There were a few learning curves and adjustments where you had to help him hold and position the fabric, but soon he was merrily finishing it up on his own.

Hakugan held up the mask, letting out a victorious cheer. “Alright! Thank you so much!”

You let out an affirmative ‘yos’ . “Don’t think much about it.”

The two of you remained holed up in your workshop until it was time to switch off the navigation teams, heading there together with the others who would be navigating the Tang through this turbulent part of the waters.

Morsa pulled the door open for the lot of you, and Tanaka sighed at seeing the relief shift coming to take over. “Glad you guys are here!”

“Hm,” Hakugan said as he left your side, and walked up next to the taller topographer, falling back into his role as helmsman easily. Nobody noticed that anything was amiss as he made sure that his mask was obscured for the most part. “What’s the update?”

“Well, it seems like we’ve moved out of the enclosed space so far,” Tanaka said. “We—”

His words cut off in a choke as he glanced at Hakugan.

“Hm, what was that, Tanaka?” Ikkaku asked as she squinted at the sonar system.

“Guys!” The bespectacled man grabbed Hakugan by the shoulders and spun him around to face everyone.

The navigation room fell silent as they saw Hakugan’s mask. The man tilted his head innocently, hands coming up to the mask. “What?”

Loud ripping noises echoed in the room as he peeled off the thick, dark eyebrows and slapped them on to make a confused frown. 

“Hakugan,” Ikkaku began. “What the fuck.”

Said helmsman shot a thumbs up to the crew.

Come Back to Bed with Me

Nicolas Brown x Reader X Worick Arcangelo

Sleeping with Nicolas and Worick is like sleeping between two ovens.

It was muggy again tonight.

In the corner of the room, the old electric fan wheezed away, blowing tepid air across the space and into your cramped, sweltering bed. Its buzzing accompanied the distant sound of nightlife filtering in from your open window and the sounds of the two souls sleeping on either side of you. Worick’s snores to your right almost covered the gentle rasping of Nicolas’s breaths, both of them completely out for the count despite the heat. But considering that both of them were responsible for the excess swelter pressing in on you, you weren’t surprised that they’d be immune to it.

Bastards. How dare they come into your bed, take up your space, and ramp up the temperature with their in-built, biological furnace system? It was your turn with the bed, so it was unfair that you couldn’t even get it to yourself tonight.

‘It was too loud!’ Worick had insisted.

Nicolas had simply hovered behind the blond, too sleepy to even attempt signing anything. A mistake on your end by looking at Worick’s puppy eyes ultimately led you to open the door wider and allow the two of them in.

Though, you guess it was your fault for allowing them to squeeze into bed with you in the first place. There was a perfectly good couch and plenty of floor space you could’ve gone to or made them sleep on if you really had minded. But you didn’t, the weight of their bodies beside you so deeply familiar that sometimes you struggled to fall asleep without them. Though sometimes the heat that you so coveted on colder days turned against you.

You laid still for a few moments, calculating how you’d escape without either Nicolas waking up or Worick latching onto you. After a moment of consideration, you slowly sat up, wiggling to the foot of the bed before slipping off there. The blonde mumbled something and rolled over, arms latching on the pillow you placed there as a victim as you vacated. Sighing in relief, you gave them one last look before tiptoeing out of the room.

It was cooler in the kitchen, but not by much as you fanned yourself with the collar of your oversized shirt (okay, Worick’s shirt, but he couldn’t fit in it anyway). Droplets of water splashed over the rim of your cup as you filled it, soon abandoning the whole thing as it took too long and sticking your hands under it. Cool water filled up your cupped palms, and you ducked down to sip from them before splashing the rest over your face and washing the sweat off.

Cooled down to a satisfying degree, you switched the water off but remained drowsily hunched over the sink, yawning occasionally. Water dripped down your features, but you were too tired to wipe it away. The thought of going back didn’t appeal to you, shuddering at the idea of sweaty skin and sticky sheets.

Your head dipped, eyes slipping closed as you began to doze off right where you stood. The slight sounds of footsteps approached, but you didn’t bother moving, knowing exactly who it was by the sound.

Fingers pinched the side of your cheeks, and you let out a groan as they tugged. “Hey, weirdo.”

“Mmmgrrghh.”

Worick chuckled affectionately, letting go of your face as your hand came up to swat at him. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Was thirsty,” you said. “‘N hot.”

His singular sleep-filled eye scanned your features, seeing how the collar of your shirt and skin was dotted with water. “Looks like you got more water on yourself than anything.”

“Was hot.”

He shook his head in exasperation. “C’mon, it’s late. Let’s go back to bed.”

“Don’ wanna.”

“I’ll open the window.”

“‘S already opened. And the fan’s on.”

You didn’t reply as your eye caught movements from behind Worick, leaning to the side to spy Nicolas stumbling into the room. “Oh, Nicky’s awake.

He signed something, movements sloppy and dragging as you tried to see what he was saying, but couldn’t due to the darkness.

Waving to catch his attention, you said and signed, “Sorry, I can’t really see what you’re saying. It’s dark.”

Nicolas let out a few unintelligible grumbles, a warm hand coming up to grab your wrist and tug you with him. Worick’s arm settled over your shoulders, his weight comforting as he leaned drowsily into you.

“Guys…” you whined, hand hitting Nicolas’s arm while following them back into the bedroom. “It’s too hot in there.”

“We can sleep on the floor,” the blonde suggested, slightly kicking at Nicolas’s calf to get his attention. His arm did leave your shoulders, but hooked around and tugged you closer for him to sign and speak, “It’s cooler down there since our whiny baby can’t handle this heat.”

“Fuck you,” you replied without any heat. “You two are a pair of furnaces.”

Nicolas stopped and let go of your wrist to sign, “Want us to leave?”

“No,” you quickly said. “Let’s just sleep on the floor. I wanna do that.”

Worick nodded. “Alright. And, you, don’t suggest something for somebody else!”

Nicolas blinked slowly, catlike as he moved forward and opened the bedroom door. You went ahead and tugged the blanket off the bed, Nicolas tossing the pillows down, while Worick unplugged the little fan on the table to relocate it on the floor where its wind could reach you. With the three of you working together, a comfortable area was quickly established, and you plopped down in the middle, settling into your spot with a satisfied sigh. Nicolas nudged you over, settling to your right as he set his katana down at the edge of the sleeping spot. Worick flopped down onto your other side, yawning loudly as he scratched the scruff on his chin. Before you could move, he rolled over to throw an arm over you, fingers latching onto Nicolas’s shirt.

“You’re heavy as hell,” you muttered, hand coming up to tug at strands of his hair. You turned to Nicolas to make sure he saw your lips as you asked them. “What were you guys doing up, anyways?”

“You weren’t in bed,” Worick replied simply.

Nicolas’s eyes glinted as they caught the moonlight, the Twilight blinking slowly in a catlike manner. 

You huffed and smiled, wiggling in your spot to find a more comfortable position. Your hand on his side sought out his and you curled your pinky over his. “I see. Sorry, I woke you guys up. I’ll make sure not to be gone for too long next time.”

Worick huffed. “You better.”

On the floor it was slightly cooler, but still not by much. But you didn’t complain as you felt their warmth press in on either side of you. Though none of you said it, it was always this way, the three of you so used to each other’s presence at night that the absence of one was always felt. 

The room fell back into its quiet nighttime ambiance as you all settled, three puzzle pieces clicking into each other.

Initiation

Part of "The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces" series

The Heart Pirates were overwhelming. So loud and chaotic that you didn’t know how you’d ever fit in with them. But you didn’t have any need to worry.

Takes place near the beginning of reader's journey with the crew.

Though you had joined (more like forced yourself into) the Heart Pirates in a blaze of chaos and explosions (quite literally), that courage didn’t stay in the aftermath of everything. When it was all said and done, and you’d stitched in a place on the Polar Tang as their tentative tailor, all the fight and bravery went down the drain.

Though you couldn’t say that you thrived on talking to others, you boasted fair enough people skills (which was more than could be said for their—your captain). Just enough for you to be known as a cordial and affable person. But with your history, growing up as you did, you had to say that your inclinations leaned more to that of reservedness.

The same could not be said for this new group of people you found yourself with.

They were loud, you already knew that from your initial introduction to them. But now, in close quarters and a confined space, the noise absolutely echoed. The sense of camaraderie was strong with them, inside jokes and banter flowing like water between them all. They would often include you in it too.

“Hey, Newbie!”

You froze as Ikkaku honed in on you, a touch of wildness in her eyes as she sped to you, dragging Clione along with her.

“Oi, don’t involve other people in with this!” the hooded blonde complained, but he still cornered you alongside the tall woman.

“We need you to settle this for us!” Ikkaku declared, crossing her arms. “Clione thinks that white lights are the best interior lights. But obviously, warmer lights are better than cool ones, yeah? You agree, right?”

“No???! Don’t influence the Newbie!”

“Shut up, you’re just angry because I’m right!”

“Uhm,” you began warily. “I think white lights are good if you want to maintain alertness, but warmer-toned lights are good for relaxation. Depending on what you need, one cn be better for your eyes than the other.”

Both stared at you blankly.

“Yeah, but which one is better?” Ikkaku prompted.

“I… They all have their…uses…”

Both members threw their hands up in twin displays of frustration. “That doesn’t help at all!”

They devolved back into their squabble, and you took a step away.

Two heads snapped at you. “Stay here!”

Your shoulders sunk down as you glanced furtively down the hall to see if anybody was coming. It seems like you’ll be stuck with them for a bit.

But not only did they pull you into the most mundane of conversations, but they were also touchy.

Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi were guilty of being particularly forward, the three having no qualms being in everyone’s space. While Bepo’s was well-intentioned—the Mink trying his best not to overstep his boundaries aside from when he’d scoop someone up in a hug—Penguin and Shachi had no qualms about holding back. Crewmates were often the victim of one or both of them leaning on them at once, on either side. The first time they did that, you nearly jumped a foot in the air, if not for their weight on you. 

The bolts of fabrics you were carrying thumped to the ground as you were jostled by twin pairs of arms, pushing you down. “Ah!”

“Whatcha got there, Newbie?” Penguin asked.

“New fabrics for the boiler suits,” you replied, wiggling out of their hold to hurriedly pick up the nearest roll, inspecting them for any stains. You would’ve snapped at the pair for making you drop them, but you were too busy fretting, and did not want to piss off the unofficial-official first mates of the captain. “I–Uh, C-Captain approved of this particular type. It’s more suitable to the conditions of the Tang than your suits now.”

“Oh shit, really?” Shachi crouched down right next to you, his side pressed up against your own as he grabbed the bolt of fabric you were holding while Penguin began gathering the other rolls.

The taller man tried to pick up all up, but let out a curse as their weight bore down on him. “Holy crap—”

You wobbled as his heat burned into your side, a hand reaching out to steady him as you took a few off to lighten the load.

“How the hell were you carrying so many with your stature?!?” Penguin ask incredulously, tugging his hat back in place.

“I’m used to it,” you said simply, reaching for the rest in his hold. However, a hand fisted the back of your current suit’s collar and hauled you up. “Ack–!”

“No need!” Shachi announced, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders. “Big Bro Peng and I will help you carry them!”

“Are you sure this is not you two trying to worm out of the Captain’s duties again…?” You asked.

“No way!”

“That’s silly!”

(They were, in fact, trying to dodge responsibilities.)

Though, despite their welcoming air, you couldn’t help but linger at the edges of everything. Too afraid to integrate yourself into their folds. Yes, you may have been brought on as their tailor—a position sorely needed as the most experienced person before you were the poor cook who at most knew how to do basic stitching—but you were still Newbie, first and foremost. Still clumsy when taking up the shared duties and occasionally getting lost in the halls. Your position here was strenuous at best, and you feared that there would be whatever reason that made them drop you off at the next island they docked at.

You peeked your head into the mess hall, wondering what was important enough that you were summoned there after your watch duties 

Shousai was the first to see you, the large, bald man waving a gloved hand at you. “Oi, Newbie, there you are!”

That sent an excited titter over the crew.

“Newbie’s here!”

“About time!”

“What took you so long?”

You took a tentative step into the room, but remained near the doors, wringing your hands. They had called you over the intercoms in the middle of you reworking he boiler suits, so it made you anxious to resume working.  “What’s… happening…?”

“Since, you’ve been doing a stellar job aboard the Polar Tang,” Bepo announced. “It’s about time that you get initiated into the group pose!”

“Group pose?”

The Mink nodded, completely serious. “Yes! We Heart Pirates take pride in our crew, so it’s imperative that we are ready to show that pride whenever Captain introduces us!”

Slowly shuffling backward, you asked, “Do I have to do it?”

“Yeah!” Clione yelled. “We all have to do it! You’re part of the crew, now. You can’t get out of this, Newbie!”

Hands grabbed your shoulders, and you looked back, expression full of betrayal as you found Uni to be the one pushing you to the group. The stoic man’s expression gave nothing away, except for the slightest pinch in the corners of his eyes that indicated amusement.

More hands grabbed at your arms when you were in range, Uni leaving to assume his position once he ensured that Shachi’s hold on you rendered escape impossible. You were shuffled from person to person, but for once, their touches didn’t make you tense nor freeze the way touches used to. They had, without you realizing, wormed their way through your guards as much as you’ve settled into their rank. In their endearingly Heart Pirates way.

Weak. Would have been what he called them. Called you. But those were just the whispers of the dead.

Shosai muttered your name as you were slotted right next to him. “You have to convince Risso to make something other than broiled rice cakes and peas and fish for dinner.”

“He says we have to try and conserve our supplies,” you protested quietly as Omura’s elbow dug into your shoulder.

“Yes, but we all know there are much better combinations than fish and peas.”

Scanning the group for the yellow newsboy hat and braids of the cook, you asked, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“He likes you more!”

Bepo turned to give the both of you a chastising look as Shachi shushed you two. The Mink waited until the redhead ran through the positioning of your arms and legs. “Okay, Newbie! We’re going to do it now. Do you have the pose memorized?”

“Yes,” you said sulkily, resigned to your fate.

“Okay, Heart Pirates! Three, two, one!”

The crew burst into a clamoring of noise and limbs, you following suit with a heaping dose of embarrassment.

Your face burned  even hotter as, right after, the captain walked into the room. Law didn’t even blink as he saw the group of you in the mess hall, mug of coffee in his hands as he sipped on it. The crew held that pose, as if waiting for his approval.

He looked at you all with a sharp eye, amusement shining through as he cocked his head. “I think you should move Newbie-ya more to the left.”

“COME ON, CAPTAIN!”

Your face quivered as you fought a smile. Surrounded on all sides by lively figures, you undeniably felt warm.

Eventually, the nickname fell away, to be replaced with your own name or “Tailor”. Years later, as you and your nakama—a little bruised, and battered, but now twenty strong—assembled into that ridiculous group pose to greet Straw Hat, Shosai lifting you up onto his shoulders so you could throw your arms up and out into a victorious ‘V’, Jean Bart’s steady presence behind you, you couldn’t feel a greater sense of belonging.

Tyrant of the Laundry Room

Part of the Heart Pirates X reader series: Sanctity of Sacred Space

Laundry duty was your favorite. Though your nakama couldn’t agree.

To say you quite liked laundry duty was an understatement.

Always the first to sign up, taking the worst shifts or the day with the heaviest load, never a complaint coming from you except for the crew to take care of their clothes more.

As often as you could, you’d swap laundry duty with anyone willing on the crew. It had gotten bad enough at a certain point until Law had banned anybody from swapping laundry duty with you for a month until the redness on your hands died down. After that, he had imposed a strict limitation of how many times a certain chore could be done until the rota refreshed.

The rest of the crew never quite understood your fervor for this particular chore, as to many, this was down at the bottom of the list on how much they wanted to do it, alongside dish duty. Shachi had—the third time you asked to swap with him—grabbed you by the shoulders and peered deep into your eyes through his shades to ask if you were okay. He couldn’t believe that you simply just wanted to.

But the reason was simple.

Your passion as a tailor did not just simply end at making and fixing clothes. It extended into their care and upkeep. You knew the best way to cut linen, the specific direction it needed to reduce shrinkage in the long run. You knew how to remove all manner of stains, and you meant it. Not even the discolorations on Shachi’s hat stood a chance when you got your hands on it. 

It was the first thing you chose to learn after he died, the world opening up at your fingertips without the pressure of what you had to do. Your experience with a gun meant blood often found itself at home on your things and he didn’t care enough about appearances to bother keeping things stain-free. So as an act of rebellion, the first thing you did was to learn about clothes. The seamstresses and launderers at your old village were thrilled to have a fresh face so interested in their trade, and wasted no time in teaching you everything they knew. What that man forced you to be, and what those ladies taught you, were the only relic you had of your childhood.

And laundry duty was the one chance where you got to stretch out this knowledge and allow yourself a chance to shine.

Though, that passion tended to be a bit overbearing for those who worked with you. 

“Shachi, you don’t crank the heat all the way up for those!”

Crossing the space, you shoved yourself into the redhead’s space as you fiddled with the controls on the machines.

“You’re lucky that I caught this in time, you idiot!”

“But doesn’t turning it up make them dry faster??”

“NOT LIKE THIS!” Your screech echoed through the room. “We have fragile polyester-based stuff in there! You’re going to melt them!”

“It can’t be that bad, right?!?”

“HOW ABOUT I MELT YOUR SHADES FOR YOU TO FIND OUT?!?”

The screaming echoed through even the halls, those lucky enough to escape laundry duty with you chuckling at Shachi’s misfortune. You ran laundry day with a militant fist, hunting down those who forgot their clothes with a dogged focus. It was terrifying to get in your way, and even more terrifying to be stuck working the shift with you. No matter how much you begged, Law refused to let you shoulder the burden of washing everything by yourself. It was a well-known fact by now that your standards were hellish to meet, and you did not go gentle on those who failed (save Bepo and Law).

But at the end of the day, when the Heart Pirates received their laundry back, delightfully warm and cleaner than they’ve ever been before you arrived, they were glad that their beloved tailor cared so much.

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces

Life as part of the Heart Pirates and being their beloved tailor (and sometimes sharpshooter).

A Heart Pirates reader insert collection

Ao3 link

Peace and All Else

Tyrant of the Laundry Room

Initiation

Japes and Jubilation (Part 1) | (Part 2) | (Part 3) | (Part 4)

Shortest

Peace and All Else

Part of my Heart Pirates x Reader series: The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces

With a life as chaotic as yours, you preferred quietness where you could find it.

You were someone who valued your peace. Not just as a personal preference, but for your job as well, as any interruption could result in an errant stitch, ruining the clothing, or a needle through the finger.

This need for quietness was ironic, considering you were on a crew of pirates, whose lives were marked by nothing but unending chaos. 

Paradoxical. Peculiar. But when you were a pirate crew who had a doctor at the helm, it didn’t seem that strange. You were simply one oddball amongst a crew full of them. Which lent to many, many escapades that echoed throughout the Tang. It was never silent, whether it be the noise of her machines humming away, or the sound of the galley’s mealtime preparations, there was always life in her halls. 

You wouldn’t trade it for any other thing, but sometimes everyone’s antics were a little overwhelming, and you had to slip away to seek out a moment of peace. Innevitably, you’d always end up in a few places. Namely: your storage-room-turned-workshop. 

After your welcoming into the folds of the Heart Pirates, they were kind enough to clear out an empty broom closet and convert it into a mini workspace for you. You had initially protested that it was too much, but Shachi had quickly shushed you by saying you’d pay it back by repairing everyone’s stuff and fixing up the infirmary’s linens. 

Eventually, those bolted shelves were filled until with rolls and rolls of fabrics, projects finished and not set in marked piles on your desk. Your walls filled with papers, ideas and sketches (both yours and not) displayed proudly. An almost-too-big-couch crammed right into the last unoccupied corner of the room, with a lopsided mannequin that Ikkaku fixed up for you standing proudly right next to it.

A home away from home.

Well, just a home now. You didn’t have any other place except with the Heart Pirates.

And in this peace, you could relax, and unwind. Pick up a thread and needle and weave your love into every fold and stitch of the fabric in your hands. Love that you hoped your nakama could feel.

Your hands jolted as the door to your workshop slammed open with a cry of your name. You grabbed the nearest object, a spare pincushion, and lobbed it with deadly accuracy at the intruder. Penguin yelped as the item beaned him right on the forehead, the brim of his hat barely protected him against your wrath. “What was that for?!?!”

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER?! AND TO NOT SLAM MY DOOR?!”

“Sorry, sorry! But can I hide in here for a bit?”

You squinted at him, anger giving way to suspicion. “Why…?”

“Please!” The man clasped his hands in front of him, stepping into the room. “I’ll do anything!!”

An idea sparked in your head. “If you take my dish duty tonight… You can stay for as long as you want and I won’t rat you out if anybody comes asking.”

Not that you particularly hated doing the dishes, you knew the importance of equal distributions of chores (Law drilled that into every members’ head on the daily), but just this once, you had something pressing you’ve been wanting to do, so the extra time gained from Penguin taking on your duty was exactly what you needed.

Penguin didn’t even flinch. “I’ll take it!”

You grinned and let out a little ‘yos’. “You can hide behind the couch, There’s space there, and the floor’s padded.”

He was full of thanks as he dove behind the furniture, shuffling coming from it as he settled there. To complete the look, you walked over, grabbing the blanket on there, and draping it over the back of the couch, making it look natural.

Just as you were patting out the last of the wrinkles, slow, steady footsteps approached your workshop. A knock announced Uni’s presence before he stuck his head in through the open door.

“Hello, Uni. Can I help you with anything?”

A drone of your name. “Have you seen Penguin anywhere?”

You had to resist a smile. “No. Are you looking for him?”

A nod. Slow eyes tracked across your workshop but ultimately landed back on you again, standing next to the couch. “He used my gloves and didn’t clean off the grease.”

Wincing at that, you wondered why the hatted man thought that was smart in the first place. Uni’s gloves were far bigger than Penguin’s, but they were also slimmer, so shoving his mitts into those could’ve popped a few stitches. “If you want, you can bring them here, and I’ll fix and clean them up for you,” you offered.

Uni shook his head. “No need. I have spares. But I’m going to find Penguin to make him clean off the ones he used.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re fine, Uni. See you around.”

You waited until his footsteps were out of earshot before cracking a smile. Penguin shot you a grateful thumbs up and a grin when you peeked your head over to look at him. “It’s pretty comfy down here,” he said, wiggling his shoulders a bit. “Mind if I sleep here a bit?”

“Be my guest,” you drawled, wandering back to your desk and picking up your pencil. “I’m sure the dust bunnies appreciate the company.”

I appreciate your company, was left unsaid, but you hoped Penguin understood.

Peace returned to the room, only interrupted by the sound of your pencil and paper as you sketched your way through clothing patterns. Then, the quiet whistles of Penguin’s snores began to fill the air. You paused your work, before shaking your head with a fond smile.

You didn’t know how long you worked before there was a small flash of blue and Penguin’s snores being cut off for something to hit the floor where he was. Knowing that it could only be Law’s fruit, you got up to investigate what was Shambled into your room to swap with Penguin. 

A note, attached to one of your missing pincushions by a pin.

“That bastard,” you muttered, reaching down to grab everything from the floor.

‘Stop hiding people in your workshop’ the messy scrawl of his handwriting read. 

You snickered, sitting back down at your work desk and depositing the pincushion in its rightful place on your table. Your lamp flickered on, and you moved it so it shone over the drawing on your table, a revised boiler suit for Bepo that had more ventilation, so the poor Mink wouldn’t feel the heat as much when things inevitably got hot in the Polar Tang.

Yes, you valued your peace. But your workshop was a sanctuary, too. Not just for you, but every single one of your nakama that wanted to wander through your doors, in search of help, repairs, or just plain comfort. Peace came in many forms, and your nakama’s peace was yours.