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Can you do a f shy reader x quaritch jealousy angst with Varang happy ending
recom!quaricth x ash!fem!reader
a/n: I love the idea of big scary Quaricth being with someone small and gentle! As always i am here to fulfill your request! I apologize if this is more horrible than my other fics, for some reason I struggled to focus on the main.. whatâs the word? Plot? Topic? Anyways, thanks for the challenge! (P.S have yall discovered my favorite way of starting a story?)
The Ash Village never truly slept.
Even in the quietest hours, smoke drifted from the volcanic vents surrounding the settlement, painting the air in shades of gray and crimson. Warriors moved between huts, patrols changed shifts, and somewhere in the distance the low growl of direhorses echoed through the night.
You sat outside your family's shelter, fingers absentmindedly twisting a strip of woven fiber.
Your gaze drifted, as it always seemed to these days.
Toward them.
Quaritch stood near one of the larger fires, broad shoulders illuminated by orange light. Across from him stood Varang.
Again.
The two of them spoke in low voices.
Serious voices.
Maps were spread between them, pieces of charcoal marking routes and positions. Every few moments Varang would point at something, Quaritch would shake his head, and they'd begin discussing it again.
You knew exactly what they were doing.
Planning.
Strategizing.
Discussing alliances.
You knew that.
You really did.
But knowing something and feeling it were entirely different things.
Your stomach tightened anyway.
Varang was powerful.
Confident.
Respected.
When she entered a space, people noticed.
When you entered a space, you usually hoped nobody would.
The comparison was unfair.
You knew that too.
Yet your thoughts continued their cruel little spiral.
The following days weren't any better.
Everywhere you looked, Quaritch and Varang seemed to be together.
Walking between meetings.
Reviewing patrol reports.
Speaking with clan leaders.
Discussing supply routes.
Always talking.
Always side by side.
You hated yourself for noticing.
And somehow hated yourself more for caring.
Because Quaritch never actually gave you a reason to doubt him.
Not once.
He sought you out whenever he had time.
Sat beside you during meals.
Touched your shoulder when passing.
Looked at you like you were the only person in the village.
Yet somehow the doubt still crept in.
Quiet.
Persistent.
Poisonous.
The worst moment came several evenings later.
You had been looking for Quaritch.
Someone mentioned he'd gone to speak with Varang.
Again.
Trying not to think anything of it, you followed the path toward the council shelter.
Then you saw them.
Varang laughed.
Quaritch actually laughed back.
Not one of his dry huffs.
A real laugh.
The sight hit harder than it should have.
You immediately turned away.
Before either of them could see you.
For the rest of the evening, Quaritch kept glancing your way.
You avoided every attempt he made to approach.
When he sat beside you at dinner, you suddenly found the opposite side of the fire very interesting.
When he asked if you were alright, you answered with a quiet:
"Fine."
The lie was painfully obvious.
Three days passed.
Three miserable days.
You barely slept.
Barely ate.
And absolutely refused to say what was bothering you.
Because every time you considered it, embarrassment flooded through you.
What would you even say?
*I'm jealous of your ally?*
*I'm jealous of military meetings?*
*I'm jealous because she talks confidently and I don't?*
It sounded ridiculous.
So you stayed quiet.
And the silence only made everything worse.
The breaking point came unexpectedly.
Rain hissed against volcanic stone outside your shelter.
You were tryingâand failingâto focus on repairing a piece of leather armor when a familiar shadow blocked the entrance.
Quaritch.
His expression was already irritated.
Not angry.
Frustrated.
The kind of frustration that came from someone trying very hard to understand something.
"Enough."
You blinked.
"What?"
"Whatever's been going on."
He folded his arms, âYou've been avoiding me for days."
You immediately looked away.
"No I haven't."
His stare was immediate.
Unimpressed.
You shrank slightly.
"...maybe a little."
"A little?"
You could hear the disbelief in his voice.
Then,
Silence settled.
The dreaded silence.
The one where you knew you should say something.
Needed to say something.
But every word seemed trapped in your throat.
Quaritch waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Until finally he sighed.
"Did I do something?"
"No."
"Then what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Another lie.
Another terrible one.
You wished the ground would open beneath you.
Quaritch crouched in front of you.
Now there was nowhere to hide.
His eyes searched your face.
"You look miserable."
"I am not."
"You do."
"I am fine."
"You're awful at lying."
Heat flooded your face.
You stared at the floor.
Then at your hands.
Then somewhere over his shoulder.
Anywhere except at him.
Because if you looked directly at him, you might actually have to say it.
And saying it felt horrifying.
Unfortunately, Quaritch wasn't leaving.
"So tell me."
You swallowed.
Nothing.
"Tell me."
Still nothing.
"You can be angry, you know."
"I'm not angry."
"Then what are you?"
The answer slipped out before you could stop it.
"...worried."
His expression softened immediately.
"Worried about what?"
You squeezed your eyes shut.
Mortified.
There was no going back now.
"Varang."
The word barely emerged above a whisper.
Quaritch stared.
Then blinked.
Then stared again.
Clearly trying to figure out where this conversation had suddenly come from.
"Varang?"
You wanted to disappear.
"You spend a lot of time together."
The words came easier now.
Not much easier.
But enough.
"And I know why."
You rushed onward before courage abandoned you.
"I know you're allies."
"And I know you're discussing plans."
"And I know it makes sense."
"And I know she needs to coordinate with you."
You paused.
Heart pounding.
"But..."
The word trembled.
Quaritch remained silent.
Waiting.
Patiently.
"But she's..." you struggled for the right word, âShe's Varang."
He looked even more confused somehow.
"She's strong."
You stared at your hands.
"Confident."
"People listen when she speaks."
Your voice dropped lower.
"And I don't."
Realization slowly crossed his face.
Not annoyance.
Not anger.
Understanding.
"Oh.â
That single sound somehow made you feel even more embarrassed.
"Oh."
You groaned.
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
Not mocking.
Just fond.
Painfully fond.
"You thought I wanted Varang."
Your face burned.
"I did not say that."
"You absolutely did."
"I did not."
"You did."
You covered your face.
Which only made him chuckle.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
Then Quaritch gently pulled your hands away.
His expression had become serious again.
"Listen to me."
You finally met his eyes.
"Varang and I are allies."
He nodded toward the council shelter visible in the distance.
"We talk because we have responsibilities."
"We argue more than we agree."
That earned a surprised blink from you.
He snorted.
"Trust me, half our conversations are disagreements."
That image somehow helped.
A little.
"But you."
His hand found yours.
"You are not her."
Your chest tightened.
"And that's a good thing."
His thumb brushed across your knuckles.
"I don't spend every free moment looking for Varang,â he paused before continuing, "I look for you."
"I don't stay awake wondering if Varang is alright."
"I wonder about you."
His gaze never left yours.
"And when I've had a long day, you're who I want beside me."
The knot in your chest finally began to loosen.
"You should've told me."
His voice was gentler now.
"I know."
You sighed.
"I just felt.. stupid."
"You weren't stupid."
You gave him a skeptical look.
"Maybe a little stubborn."
You laughed despite yourself.
"There you are."
The warmth in his voice made your stomach flip.
For the first time in days, the heaviness disappeared.
Not completely.
Doubt rarely vanished that easily.
But it felt smaller now.
Manageable.
Because it wasn't festering inside your head anymore.
Later that evening, as the two of you walked through the village together, you noticed Varang speaking with several warriors near one of the central fires.
She glanced your way.
Then toward Quaritch.
A knowing look crossed her face.
To your horror, she smirked.
Quaritch immediately groaned.
"Don't."
Varang's smirk widened.
"Ah."
She nodded.
"So that was the problem."
You nearly died on the spot.
Quaritch looked equally annoyed.
"Not a word."
Varang laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then waved dismissively.
"You worry too much, little Mangkwan."
Her eyes gleamed with amusement.
"I would rather wrestle a thanator than deal with him permanently."
You stared.
Quaritch looked offended.
Varang walked away before he could respond.
Still laughing.
For the first time, you found yourself laughing too.
And when Quaritch wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, the remaining doubt finally lost its grip.
Because no matter how often strategy meetings happened.
No matter how many alliances were forged.
No matter how much time Quaritch spent discussing tactics with Varang.
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Can you do a Jake sully angst with a happy ending something like him flirting with neytiri
Jake x gn!reader
a/n: OoO, of course I can bby! Your wish is my command. Also, I couldnât hurt my readers so I technically did your req just with a plot twist. P.S Feyre in âA court of thorns and rosesâ was a genuine dumbass. I hope she isnât in the rest, im just about done with the first book. Anyways, holy yap.
Pandora never truly slept.
Even in the quietest hours of the night, the forest breathed around you. Glowing plants pulsed beneath your feet, insects chirped in the darkness, and distant creatures called to one another somewhere beyond the trees.
Normally, those sounds soothed you.
Tonight they only reminded you that Jake wasn't beside you.
You sat outside your family's marui, absentmindedly twisting a woven bracelet around your wrist.
The one Jake had made.
It was uneven.
Poorly woven.
And one of your favorite things in the world.
You smiled despite yourself.
The memory was still clear.
Jake sitting cross legged beside you, tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth in concentration as he triedâand failed repeatedlyâto copy a simple weaving pattern.
You had laughed so hard you'd nearly fallen over.
He'd spent the next hour insisting it looked perfect.
It hadn't.
Not even close.
But he had still tied it around your wrist himself.
"Now you gotta wear it forever."
"Forever?"
"Forever."
"What if it falls apart?"
"Then I'll make another one."
You looked down at it now.
Months later.
Still intact.
Still yours.
Just like him.
Or at least...
You thought so.
A branch snapped nearby.
You looked up.
Jake emerged from the darkness carrying his bow over one shoulder.
Immediately your face brightened.
It always did when you saw him.
His ears perked at the sight of you.
"There you are."
You stood.
"There you are."
His grin appeared instantly.
That familiar grin.
The one that somehow made your heart race no matter how many times you saw it.
Without hesitation he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side.
Home.
That was what Jake felt like.
Home.
"Miss me?" he asked.
You rolled your eyes.
"You've been gone for a few hours."
"That's a yes."
"It was not."
"It absolutely was."
You laughed despite yourself.
Jake looked entirely too pleased about winning.
As usual.
The next few weeks passed peacefully.
Life wasn't perfect.
Pandora never allowed things to stay easy for long.
But you were happy.
The kind of happy that settled deep inside your chest.
The kind that made ordinary moments feel important.
Hunting together.
Flying together.
Falling asleep under the stars after talking for hours.
Jake always found ways to make you laugh.
Sometimes intentionally.
Sometimes by being an idiot.
Both happened frequently.
You loved him for it.
And for a while, everything felt steady.
Safe.
Certain.
Until it didn't.
At first the changes were small.
So small you barely noticed them.
Jake missing dinner because he was busy.
Coming back later than usual.
Leaving conversations halfway through because someone needed him.
None of it was unusual for the Olo'eyktan.
He carried responsibilities that affected the entire clan.
You understood that.
You always had.
So you ignored the uneasy feeling creeping into your stomach.
Told yourself you were overthinking.
Told yourself everything was fine.
Then one afternoon you went looking for him.
And found him with Neytiri.
Not strange.
Not yet.
Neytiri was family.
His closest friend.
Someone he trusted more than almost anyone.
They spoke often.
Worked together often.
There was nothing unusual about it.
Still, when Jake saw you approaching and quickly ended the conversation, something inside you shifted.
Just slightly.
Like a thread pulling loose.
After that, you started noticing things.
The conversations that stopped when you arrived.
The private smiles.
The moments when Jake seemed distracted even while talking to you.
And every single time,
Neytiri was somehow involved.
Not enough to accuse him of anything.
Not enough to justify your growing discomfort.
But enough to plant doubt.
And doubt was dangerous.
Because once it settled in your mind...
It spread.
Days later, standing near the gathering grounds, you heard laughter.
Jake's laughter.
The sound immediately drew your attention.
Before you could stop yourself, you looked.
You froze where you stood, a basket of gathered fruit balanced against your hip.
Jake was smiling.
Not unusual.
What made your chest tighten was who he was smiling at.
Neytiri.
She stood beside him, arms crossed, shaking her head at something he'd said. Jake grinned wider, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. Then Neytiri laughed.
The sound stabbed deeper than it should have.
You knew they shared history. Knew they always would.
But lately, it felt like every spare moment Jake had somehow ended with her.
Training together.
Patrols.
Conversations that lasted long after everyone else had gone to sleep.
And somehow, you always seemed to be standing on the outside looking in.
Jake glanced your way.
For a second your eyes met.
Then Neytiri said something else and his attention snapped back to her.
That was enough.
You turned away before he could see the hurt on your face.
The next few days became torture.
Everywhere you looked, Jake and Neytiri seemed to be together.
You tried convincing yourself it meant nothing.
Tried telling yourself you were being unreasonable.
But insecurities had a nasty way of growing in silence.
By the fourth day, Jake finally cornered you.
"Hey."
You kept sorting arrows.
"Hey."
Jake frowned.
"You've been avoiding me."
"I've been busy."
"Busy enough to disappear every time I show up?"
You shrugged.
His ears flicked back.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"Don't do that."
You finally looked at him.
"Do what?"
"Pretend everything's fine."
For a moment neither of you spoke.
Then the words slipped out before you could stop them.
"Why don't you ask Neytiri?"
Jake blinked.
"What?"
"You spend enough time with her."
The silence that followed was immediate.
Jake stared.
Then realization crossed his face.
"Oh."
You hated that expression.
The understanding.
The pity.
You immediately looked away.
"You're jealous."
His voice wasn't mocking.
That somehow made it worse.
"I said forget it."
"You're jealous of Neytiri."
You dropped the arrows.
"Because it feels like I'm losing you!"
The words echoed louder than intended.
People nearby glanced over.
You didn't care.
Your breathing had become uneven.
"Every time I look for you, you're with her."
Jake opened his mouth.
You continued.
"And maybe it's stupid, maybe I'm being unfair, but I keep wondering if part of you wishes things had gone differently."
His expression fell.
"You think that?"
You swallowed hard.
"I don't know what to think anymore."
Jake looked genuinely hurt.
Not angry.
Hurt.
Slowly he stepped closer.
"Neytiri's family."
You didn't answer.
"She always will be."
His voice softened.
"But she's not the one I stay awake thinking about."
Your eyes lifted.
Jake moved even closer.
Not touching.
Just enough that you could feel his presence.
"I've been talking to her because I wanted advice."
Confusion replaced some of your anger.
"Advice?"
A sheepish smile tugged at his lips.
The same smile that made your heart betray you every single time.
"Yeah."
"About what?"
Jake rubbed the back of his neck.
Now he actually looked nervous.
Which was strange.
Toruk Makto didn't get nervous.
"I wanted to ask you something."
Your stomach flipped.
"What?" You answered, voice threatening to tremble.
He exhaled.
"About making things permanent."
Your brain stopped working.
"What?"
Jake laughed softly.
"Neytiri kept telling me I was overthinking it."
The pieces began falling together.
Patrols.
Long conversations.
Secret smiles.
All of it.
Not flirting.
Planning.
"You idiot."
Jake's eyes widened.
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
You smacked his shoulder.
Hard enough to make him laugh.
"I thoughtâ"
"I know what you thought."
"You couldn't have said something?"
Jake looked offended.
"I tried."
"You were terrible at it."
"Okay, that's fair."
The tension that had haunted you for days finally cracked.
Before you realized what you were doing, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.
Jake immediately held you tighter.
Like he'd been waiting for it.
For a long moment neither of you moved.
Just breathed.
Just existed.
Together.
Then he tilted your chin up.
Golden eyes meeting yours.
"There's nobody else."
The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache.
"Nobody."
You nodded.
"I know."
His forehead pressed gently against yours.
"You sure?"
A small smile appeared.
"Mostly."
Jake groaned dramatically.
"Great."
You laughed for the first time in days.
"And for the record," he added.
"Hm?"
"Neytiri threatened to throw me out of a tree if I messed this up."
You burst out laughing.
"That sounds like her."
"It absolutely sounds like her."
As the sun disappeared beyond the forests of Pandora, Jake pulled you closer.
The village noise faded into the background.
For the first time all week, the knot in your chest was gone.
Because no matter what history Jake shared with others...
No matter what doubts tried to creep in...
The way he looked at you now made one thing clear.
I just need everyone to shut up and realize Soap is getting you pregnant even without trying on the first load he gives you.
And sure he has hyperspermia and it doesnât mean people who have it always have a high sperm count but god damn it, that Scottish man could get your pregnant anytime you want. And maybe you werenât trying, but youâd finally let the man turn you into a little cumdumb instead of making him pull out. Groaning your name while his fat and girthy length is pulling your sopping wet walls apart everytime he rails into you, your hand going down his tattooed and slightly hair chest, clenching down on him hard when he hits the perfect spot, your uterus practically begging to get knocked up.
You feel every fucking ounce, ever glob that paints your walls white, till itâs leaking out, always groaning that itâs too much, too full. But you take all of you, going dizzy at how good it feels.
âSorry hen, canât help mâself.â Soap shudders but he only pulling you closer by your legs, calfâs thrown over his right shoulder, watching your weary body only succumb to the pleasure of it. The man just loves being inside your tight heat, dragging him further inside your warm walls.
He gives you a brutal thrust, hand palming your stomach where he can feel his pulsing tip, before kissing your knee, blue eyes glossed over, âBet ye a wee babes already in there, aye Bon?â
Didnât even take a fucking week for you to start feeling symptoms, a pregnancy test already positive before youâd even realize, you werenât even ovulating.
Heâll tug your standing form in between his legs, covering your face in embarrassment and shock. Johnny will kiss your stomach, âKnew it wouldnât take long fâme tâmeet ye baby, bloody mental. Donât worry though, Da ând mummy are âere.â
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Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Bunny keeps hiding carrots around the base as a joke. Quaritch acts annoyed every time he finds one, but secretly enjoys finding them. Then, one day, they suddenly stop appearing. đĽđ°
The first carrot appeared in his locker.
Colonel Quaritch stared at it for a long moment.
Just... a carrot.
Bright orange.
Perfectly clean.
Sitting right on top of his folded gear.
The recoms were gathered around the ready room when he marched in carrying the vegetable.
"Which one of you idiots did this?"
Lyle glanced up from cleaning his rifle.
"Whaâ"
Quaritch held up the carrot.
Silence.
Then laughter erupted.
"Aw hell," Walker wheezed. "Someone got the Colonel."
"I don't have time for this." He tossed the carrot into the trash and walked away.
The next morning there were three carrots.
The morning after that there were five.
Then one was tucked into his boot.
Another inside his helmet.
One somehow appeared in his ammunition case.
The entire squad found it hilarious.
Quaritch did not.
At least that was what he claimed.
You, meanwhile, were having the time of your life.
As the only bunny hybrid on Pandora, you had earned a reputation for being energetic, curious, and occasionally a menace.
The fluffy rabbit ears perched atop your head twitched excitedly as you crouched behind a crate outside the barracks.
A carrot sat in your hands.
Your latest victim's locker stood open.
Perfect.
You darted forward.
Slip.
Carrot inside.
Gone.
Like a ghost.
A very cute ghost.
You returned to your hiding spot just in time to see Quaritch arrive.
The giant recom stopped.
Opened the locker.
Saw the carrot.
Froze.
Your ears shook from holding back laughter.
The look on his face was priceless.
Absolute betrayal.
As if the universe itself had offended him.
You managed to keep quiet until he finally muttered,
"For the love of God."
That was it.
You collapsed into silent giggles.
A week later everyone knew who was responsible.
Mostly because your ears gave away your emotions.
Whenever Quaritch discovered a carrot, your ears perked straight up.
Whenever he looked around suspiciously, they started twitching.
Whenever he found one hidden somewhere especially clever, you nearly vibrated with excitement.
The squad had figured it out almost immediately.
Quaritch had too.
But oddly enough...
He never actually stopped you.
"Oh look," Lyle announced one morning. "Another carrot."
Quaritch had opened a supply crate.
And sure enough.
Another carrot.
You tried very hard not to smile.
Failed miserably.
His yellow eyes shifted toward you.
Your ears immediately stood straight.
The Colonel sighed.
"You think you're funny."
"Very."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Just slightly.
You gasped dramatically.
"Was that a smile?"
"No."
"It was!"
"It wasn't."
The entire squad started laughing.
Then the carrots suddenly stopped for about three days.
At first nobody noticed.
Then Quaritch did.
Which was ridiculous.
Because why would he notice?
It wasn't like he cared.
Right?
Wrong.
On the fourth day he opened his locker.
Nothing.
No carrot.
No stupid little note.
No doodle.
Nothing.
His brow furrowed.
Lyle noticed immediately.
"You look disappointed."
"I'm not disappointed."
"You checked twice."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
Quaritch glared.
Lyle grinned.
The truth was simple.
You were sick.
A minor Pandora flu had knocked you flat.
Your fluffy ears drooped against your head.
You spent most of your time curled beneath blankets in your quarters.
The usual energy was completely gone.
When Quaritch eventually learned why the carrots had disappeared, something felt strangely off.
The base was quieter.
Less...
Interesting.
He found himself standing outside your room before realizing he'd walked there.
The door was cracked open.
Inside, you were asleep.
Curled into a blanket nest.
A stuffed rabbit tucked beneath your chin.
Ears drooping.
For some reason, the sight bothered him.
You looked too small.
Too tired.
Too sad.
His gaze landed on the empty desk nearby.
Then he noticed a bag peeking from under your bed.
Inside were dozens of carrots.
Clearly prepared for future pranks.
The Colonel stared at them.
Walked forward.
And slowly reached for them.
The next morning you woke up, you were extra miserable.
You shuffled toward your desk.
And froze.
There sat a carrot.
A single carrot.
Placed neatly in the center.
You blinked.
Confused.
Very confused.
Slowly, you picked it up.
Attached was a tiny note that read:
Get well soon.
The handwriting was familiar.
Your eyes widened.
"No way."
The second carrot appeared the next day.
Then another.
And another.
Each one had a different reminder.
Drink water.
Quit skipping meals.
Take your meds.
Get some sleep.
One simply read:
Stop looking like you're dying.
You laughed so hard you nearly fell out of bed.
By the time you recovered, you had accumulated seventeen carrots.
Seventeen!
The squad lost their minds when they found out.
Lyle was crying from laughter.
Walker couldn't breathe.
Even Z-Dog was grinning.
"You got reverse-carroted."
"I got what?"
"The Colonel started leaving carrots for you."
You turned slowly.
Very slowly.
Toward Quaritch.
The giant recom immediately looked away.
Like that would help.
"Oh my god."
"Don't."
"You missed me."
"I didn't."
"You missed me."
"I absolutely did not."
"You got worried."
"No."
"You left seventeen carrots."
"That proves nothing."
The squad erupted.
The following morning Quaritch opened his locker, Inside sat a carrot.
Attached was a note.
Miss me? âĄ
He stared at it.
Then folded the note carefully.
Very carefully.
And slipped it into one of his pockets.
Nobody noticed.
Except Lyle.
And Lyle immediately started laughing.
By the end of the week the carrot war had officially resumed.
Only now, every morning, Quaritch secretly checked his locker before anyone else arrived.
Just in case.
And every time he found another carrot waiting for him, he couldn't quite stop the tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
A smile that somehow always appeared whenever a certain bunny girl was nearby, pretending not to watch him from across the room with her ears perked high and her eyes shining. đ°đ
um, me being self indulgent?? I lowk have been thinking of this for a bit. Inspired by @savagebite go check out their amazing cod price x bunny hybrid fic, I love it sm
(bite if this reaches you, PLS lmk if you feel uncomfortable with me taking inspo from you so that I can take this down. #Iâvelearnedfropreviousmistakes)
an: Thank you for all the support on part one! I would recommend reading part one first but I believe you could read part two as I tried adding context.
Tag list: @tubby23 @ducklovingshali (Iâm sorry to anyone else I didnât tag, I couldnât find your account for some reason)
The ocean glittered under the late afternoon light, soft gold spilling across its surface like something sacred.
It made everything look peaceful.
That was the illusion.
You sat along the curved edge of the reef, legs submerged, toes brushing against the gentle sway of the water. Small fish darted between your ankles, unbothered, trusting.
Everything trusted you.
That was the funny part.
Your hand smoothed slowly over your stomach.
The curve was there now, no longer something only you could notice. Subtle still, but present. Real. A quiet claim on your body that you wore like silk, like something delicate.
âYou keep doing that.â
Jakeâs voice came from behind you, closer than expected.
You didnât startle.
You never did.
âI like to remind myself,â you said softly.
âOf what?â
You turned slightly, just enough to glance at him. âThat itâthis is real.â
He stepped up beside you, the water curling around his feet as easily as it did yours. There was no distance between you, there hadnât been for days now. Not since everything had been forced into the open.
Not since he stopped pretending there was anything to hide.
His gaze dropped immediately, steady and blunt.
âIt is,â he said.
Your lips curved faintly.
âI know.â
Silence followed, but it wasnât empty. It stretched between you, warm and grounded, filled with something solid, something that hadnât broken, even when everything else had shifted.
A group of younger Metkayina darted past, chasing each other into the shallows. One of them leapt too far, landing wrong as a sudden wave knocked her balance sideways.
You moved without thinking.
Your arm shot out, catching her before she could fully fall into the pull of the tide. The force was mild, but sudden enough to surprise.
She laughed it off, steadying herself quickly before rushing back to her friends.
You didnât move right away.
The water brushed against your legs again, just a little stronger this time.
Your fingers loosened.
And something in your chest shifted.
It hadnât been dramatic.
No one would have noticed it.
The day had been uneventful.
Jake had been pulled from one lesson to another, corrected more than he spoke, studied more than he was spoken to.
You had watched, of course.
From a distance.
You always preferred distance.
It let you see things clearly.
He was trying.
That much was obvious.
But effort alone was not what caught your attention.
It was restraint.
Late in the day, when most had begun to disperse, you found him again.
Alone.
Standing waist deep in the water, staring down at his reflection like it might give him answers.
It didnât.
You approached quietly, the water barely shifting around you.
He didnât notice until you were already beside him.
âEverything is incorrect,â you said.
His head snapped toward you, caught off guard.
âStraight to it, huh?â
You tilted your head slightly, studying him.
âYou hold yourself like the forest still owns you.â
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
âWorking on that.â
âPoorly.â
He huffed a quiet laugh at that, more tired than amused.
âYeah. I got that part.â
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The water lapped gently around your waists, the fading light casting everything in soft gold.
Then,
He moved.
He shifted his stance, adjusting his footing, not mimicking anyone he had been taught, not forcing the movements he had struggled with all day.
Instead,
He mirrored you.
Your eyes widened slightly. Gaze flicking down briefly, then back up to his face.
He didnât look at you right away.
He was focused.
Feeling the shift. Testing it. Letting his body settle into something unfamiliar but⌠closer.
âYouâre watching me again,â he said after a moment.
âI always am,â you pause quickly adding, âwatchingâI mean watching anything.â
That made him glance at you, obviously amused.
âThen tell me if Iâm doing it wrong.â
You considered that.
For longer than necessary.
âYou are,â you finally answered.
He groaned softly. âGreat.â
âBut less than before.â
That caught him off guard.
His brows lifted slightly.
ââŚIâll take that.â
A pause.
Then, quieter,
âYou gonna show me, or just keep criticizing?â
Your lips curved, soft, almost kind.
You stepped closer.
Close enough that the water shifted differently between you.
Close enough that he stilled without realizing it.
Your hand lifted, not touching, not guiding, just hovering briefly near his arm.
âFeel the water,â you murmured. âNot your body.â
His gaze flicked to your hand.
Then back to your face.
And for a moment,
He didnât move.
Then,
He followed.
Not because he had to.
But because he wanted to.
Your hand dropped back to your side.
Your expression didnât change, but something settled quietly beneath it.
That was it.
Not the touches.
Not the closeness.
Just that.
The way he chose to listen without being asked twice.
The way he didnât question your place.
The way he let you lead without making it something to win or prove.
It was⌠easy.
And you liked easy.
The present slipped back into place with the sound of a distant call echoing across the water.
Your fingers curled slightly at your side.
Jake shifted next to you, closer now, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours.
âYou went quiet again,â he said.
You glanced at him.
For a moment, your expression was open, gentle, almost thoughtful.
âI was remembering.â
âYeah?â His voice softened. âWhat?â
You held his gaze.
Stepping closer, your hand finding his naturally, fingers threading between his without hesitation.
âThe beginning,â you said softly.
His grip tightened slightly.
Your thumb brushed over his hand slowly, absent, affectionate.
Because it was easier that way.
Easier to give him something soft.
Something real enough to hold onto.
And it wasnât a lie.
Just not the whole truth.
You leaned lightly into him, your other hand resting once more over your stomach.
Grounded.
Calm.
Certain.
âCome,â you murmured.
He moved with you instantly.
Of course he did.
Together, you stepped away from the shoreline, leaving the slow tide behind.
The path back to your marui curved gently along the sand, the oceanâs hush fading behind you with every step.
Your hand stayed in his, fingers loosely intertwined, your pace unhurried.
The sway of your hips was as natural as your breathing, full, steady, untouched by self-consciousness. It had always been that way. Confident without trying, fluid without thought.
Jakeâs gaze lingered.
Because even now, after everything, after knowing you, being with you, choosing you, he still looked.
Still noticed.
Still appreciated it in that quiet, unfiltered way that was just⌠Jake.
âYou always walk like that?â
You glanced at him, one brow lifting slightly. âYou have seen me walk many times.â
âDoesnât mean I stop noticing.â
You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully.
By the time you reached your marui, the light had dipped lower, the sky softening into warmer tones.
The woven structure stood quiet, familiar, your space, separate in a way that felt intentional.
Jake stepped ahead this time, pushing the entrance aside.
You ducked in first.
The inside welcomed you with stillness.
A sense of something closed off from the rest of the world.
Something untouched, and yours only.
You exhaled softly as you stepped further in, shoulders relaxing.
Jake followed behind, letting the entrance fall back into place.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then you moved toward the resting mats, lowering yourself carefully, not fragile, not strained, just mindful. Your hand came to your stomach as you settled, fingers spreading instinctively.
He moved closer, dropping down beside you, his presence immediate but never overwhelming. One knee bent, one leg stretched slightly as he leaned back on one arm.
âYou okay?â he asked.
âYes.â
Your voice was soft, certain.
A beat passed.
Then his hand came forward, resting gently over yours where it lay against your stomach.
You glanced down at it briefly, then back up at him.
He wasnât looking at your face.
Not yet.
His attention was lower, focused, thoughtful, like he was still getting used to the reality of it.
âYou seriously do that a lot,â he murmured.
You hummed a reply and shifted slightly, turning your body toward him.
Jake adjusted without thinking, his arm coming around you, resting along your back as you leaned into him.
Easy.
Like it had always been.
Your head tilted just enough to rest lightly against him, your breathing slowing.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
There was no need.
The sounds outside faded into something distant, replaced by the quiet rhythm of shared space, your breathing, his, the faint rustle of woven fibers when either of you shifted slightly.
Your fingers traced absent patterns against the back of his hand thoughtfully.
âYou are quiet,â you murmured after a while.
âJust thinking.â
âAbout?â
He let out a soft breath, his hand still resting over yours.
ââŚThis. You. All of it.â
You lifted your head slightly, studying him.
His expression wasnât complicated.
Just steady.
Certain in a way that didnât need to be spoken out loud.
Your gaze lingered.
Then softened.
âYou think too much,â you said quietly.
He huffed a faint laugh. âYeah, well⌠someoneâs gotta.â
Your lips curved just slightly before you settled back against him again.
Your hand stayed beneath his.
His arm stayed around you.
And for once,
You let yourself stay in that moment exactly as it was.
Your fingers traced slowly over the back of his hand, your other resting protectively over your stomach.
It almost felt⌠simple.
Your gaze lowered, lashes shadowing your eyes as your thumb stilled against his skin.
Funny.
How something so calm could come from something so⌠fragile.
So easily broken.
Your lips curved faintly.
Because you remembered exactly when it had.
You remember Neytiri stoping.
Freezing because she finally saw what she had been refusing to see.
Not your flinch.
Not your softness.
Not even Jakeâs arm pulling you behind him.
It was the way you fit there.
The way you didnât resist him. The way he didnât question it. The way his body moved for you, instinctively, immediately, like it had already chosen long before this moment ever came.
Her ears pinned back.
Her chest rose sharply.
And for a second, the entire village felt like it had gone silent just to hear her breathe.
âMove.â
Her voice was low now. Not loud. Not sharp.
Worse.
Jake didnât.
His hand stayed on your arm, firm, grounding, keeping you behind him without pushing you further away. Protective, but not panicked. Not uncertain.
Deliberate.
âJake.â
His name came out like a warning.
Like a plea.
Slowly, he stepped forward.
Not away from you.
Just enough that he stood between you and her fully now.
âNeytiriââ
âDo not,â she cut in, her voice rising again, cracking at the edges. âDo not stand there and speak to me as if I do not understand what this is.â
A murmur rippled through the onlookers.
You stayed quiet behind him.
Your fingers curling lightly into the fabric at your side, your gaze lowered just enough to look harmless, unthreatening.
But your eyes flicked up once.
Briefly.
Watching.
Measuring.
Jake exhaled slowly.
There it was.
That fraction of hesitation.
Not about you.
Never about you.
About this.
About the weight of it.
The years. The bond. The life that had existed before everything shifted.
His jaw tightened.
And then,
It was gone.
âI wasnât going to do this here,â he said, voice steady, even. âNot like this.â
âThen when?â Neytiri demanded, stepping forward. âAfter you have finished humiliating me in front of everyone? After you hide her behind you like she is something fragile you must protect?â
His grip on your arm didnât loosen.
âIf I donât step in,â he said, sharper now, âyou were about to hurt her.â
âI would not haveââ
âYou lifted your hand.â
The words cut clean.
No anger. No shouting.
Neytiri froze again, but this time it wasnât from shock.
It was from being seen.
Her gaze flicked briefly to you.
To the way you stood just behind him.
Unafraid now that he was there.
Her lip curled slightly.
âYou defend her,â she said, her voice dropping again, something colder slipping through. âSo easily.â
Jake didnât answer immediately.
And in that silence,
Everything shifted.
Because this wasnât about a moment anymore.
It wasnât about a raised hand.
It wasnât about you standing behind him.
It was about what that silence meant.
Your hand moved then, light, carefully resting against Jakeâs arm.
A touch that looked like reassurance.
Felt like it.
Jake glanced back at you.
Just for a second.
And whatever hesitation had been left,
Died.
When he turned back to Neytiri, there was nothing uncertain left in him.
âIâm not hiding anything,â he said.
The village seemed to lean in.
âIâm done pretending this isnât real.â
Neytiriâs breath hitched.
âYou say that as if it is something to be proud of,â she said, her voice trembling now despite how tightly she held herself together.
âIâm saying it because itâs the truth.â
âAnd what am I?â she snapped. âWhat is our bond? Our family? Was that truth too, or just something you decided you were finished with?â
Jakeâs expression didnât harden.
It didnât soften either.
It stayed⌠steady.
âIt was real,â he said.
The words landed heavy.
Past tense.
Neytiri flinched like sheâd been struck anyway.
âBut this,â he continued, his hand shifting slightly, brushing yours where it still rested against him âthis is real too. And Iâm not going to stand here and act like itâs not just because itâs easier.â
âEasier?â Her voice broke. âYou think this is easier?â
âNo,â he said. âBut itâs honest.â
Silence crashed down again.
Unforgiving.
Your gaze lifted slightly from behind him, watching her now, not with fear, not really, but with something softer.
Something that looked like sympathy.
âI did not mean any harm,â you said quietly.
And it was perfect
Your voice gentle.
Your posture smaller than before, like you were trying not to take up space you didnât deserve.
âI never wantedââ
âDo not speak,â Neytiri snapped, her voice suddenly sharp again, raw with something deeper than anger. âDo not stand there and pretend kindness while you take what is mine.â
You stilled.
Your expression faltered just enough.
Jakeâs hand tightened slightly where it held you.
âSheâs not pretending anything,â he said, low and firm.
Neytiri laughed then, but it wasnât humor.
It was disbelief.
âYou believe that?â she asked him, stepping closer again. âYou believe she is as soft as she appears?â
Jake didnât look back at you this time.
âI know her.â
The certainty in his voice was immediate.
Absolute.
And that,
That was what broke something in Neytiri for good.
Her shoulders dropped just slightly, like the fight had drained out of her all at once, leaving something far more dangerous in its place.
Quiet.
âYou chose,â she said.
Not a question.
A statement.
Jake didnât hesitate.
âYes.â
Your fingers tightened just slightly against his arm.
Not enough for anyone to notice.
But enough.
Neytiri nodded once.
Slow.
Like she was memorizing it.
Accepting it.
Hating it.
Then her gaze shifted to you.
Fully.
For the first time without interruption.
Without denial.
Without looking away.
And you met it.
Your hand drifting unconsciously to your stomach.
A small movement.
A telling one.
Her eyes followed it.
And everything inside her seemed to still.
The realization hit in layers.
Slow.
Then all at once.
Her breath left her.
Jake stepped slightly more in front of you again, but it didnât matter.
She had already seen.
âYouââ
Her voice failed.
She swallowed hard, her hand curling into a fist at her side.
For a moment, it looked like she might say something else.
Something worse.
But instead,
She stepped back.
Just one step.
Then another.
As if the space between you all had suddenly become unbearable.
âYou have already made your choice,â she said finally, her voice hollow now, stripped of everything but truth.
Jake didnât answer.
He didnât need to.
You leaned just slightly into him, your expression softening once more, gentle, almost regretful.
âI am sorry,â you said quietly.
And maybe a part of you was.
Just not for the reasons they would ever understand.
Neytiri didnât respond.
She only looked at the two of you one last time,
At the way you stood together.
At the way he didnât let go of you.
At the life already forming between you.
Then she turned.
And walked away.
The silence she left behind was louder than anything she could have said.
Jake exhaled slowly, his grip on you finally easing, but not leaving.
Not even for a second.
And you,
You stayed exactly where you were.
Right behind him.
Right where you had always intended to be.
Your thumb moved again against the back of Jakeâs hand, the warmth of him steady beneath your touch. Real. Solid.
Your lashes lifted slightly, the faint curve of your lips softening as the present settled back into place.
Things were different here.
You felt it in the way the village no longer whispered when you passed. In the way glances lingered, but never questioned. In the way space was made for you without hesitation,
and never taken back.
Jakeâs fingers shifted in yours, tightening just slightly, his thumb brushing slow and deliberate over your skin.
Not reassurance.
Not doubt.
Just⌠him.
Steady. Unmoving.
Chosen.
His shoulder leaned into yours, grounding, his presence settling around you like it always had, only now, there was no need to hide it.
No need to lessen it.
You leaned back into him without thought.
The days that followed didnât feel like something to survive.
They felt like something shifting into place.
People spoke to you differently now, not carefully, not cautiously, but with a quiet awareness that hadnât been there before. Not because of what had happened.
But because of what had stayed.
Because Jake hadnât wavered.
Not once.
Not in word.
Not in action.
Not in the way he stood beside you, openly, plainly, like there had never been another choice to make.
And maybe⌠there hadnât been.
A hand brushing your back as he passed. Fingers finding yours without looking. His body angling toward yours in every space, every moment, like it was instinct instead of decision.
Like it had always been that way.
One evening, when the village quieted into softer sounds and fading light, you found yourself near the waterâs edge.
The air was warm, the breeze light against your skin.
Jake joined you without a word, lowering himself beside you, close enough that your legs brushed.
You didnât look at him right away.
Your fingers found his, slipping easily between them.
He turned his hand instantly, lacing yours together.
Your other hand rested over your stomach, slower this time. A quiet acknowledgment rather than instinct.
Jakeâs gaze followed the movement, openly now. No flicker. No restraint.
His thumb brushed once over your knuckles.
Then again.
Your gaze lifted, meeting his.
There was no conflict there.
Just certainty.
The same certainty you had felt that day.
The same certainty everyone had seen.
And never questioned again.
âYou donât regret it,â you said quietly.
Not a question.
Not really.
Jake didnât even pause.
âNo.â
Simple.
Immediate.
Truth.
Something in your chest settled fully at that, not because you needed the answerâŚ
but because of how easily it came.
Your fingers tightened slightly in his.
âI didnât think you did.â
His gaze softened just a fraction, his shoulder pressing more firmly into yours.
âYou shouldnât.â
You leaned into him then, your head resting lightly against his shoulder.
He adjusted without thinking, angling closer, his presence solid and warm against you.
The quiet stretched, filled only with the distant sounds of the village and the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you.
Your hand shifted over your stomach again, slower this time.
Certain.
Everything about this was.
And as Jakeâs fingers tightened around yours firmly, unwavering,
Ë᯽ ÝË¡ â You and Jake had mated behind everyoneâs back a year ago. Months later you find out you are carrying his child. Now, Jake must choose who his loyalty will stand with.
The marui swayed gently with the rhythm of the sea.
Soft creaks of woven fiber, the hush of water just beneath, the distant calls of the reef, it all blended into something quiet. Private.
Yours.
You sat near the opening, where the light filtered through in pale, shifting patterns, a carved comb gliding slowly through your long curls. Each stroke was careful, unhurried, like you had nowhere else to be.
Like nothing was waiting for you beyond this moment.
A quiet melody slipped from your lips, low, lilting, the kind sung more for feeling than for words. It rose and fell like the tide, soft enough that it barely carried beyond the maruiâs walls.
Your free hand rested over your stomach.
Absentminded.
Protective.
Possessive.
You hummed again, softer this time, fingers pausing briefly as if listening, like something might hum back.
âYou hear that?â you murmured under your breath, a faint smile touching your lips. âThatâs for you.â
The comb moved again, slower now.
âThey donât know about you yet,â you continued quietly, voice warm, almost affectionate. âBut they will.â
A small pause.
Your gaze drifted toward the open entrance, where the sea stretched endlessly, bright and indifferent.
âAnd when they doâŚâ your tone didnât change, still soft, still sweet. âEverything will be different.â
You tilted your head slightly, working through a knot with patient fingers.
âThey think they belong here,â you went on, almost thoughtfully. âLike this place⌠like heâŚâ a faint breath left you, barely a laugh, âwas always meant for them.â
Jake Sully.
Your lips curved just a little.
âThey donât see the way he looks at me,â you whispered. âThe way he chooses me, even when he tries not to.â
The comb stilled.
For a moment, the only sound was the water beneath you.
Then, softer, almost a hush against skin:
âHe wonât try much longer.â
Your fingers smoothed over your stomach, slow, deliberate.
âIâm going to give him something he canât turn away from.â
A beat.
Your expression didnât change. Still gentle. Still calm.
âThey had their time.â
The words were quiet.
Simple.
And then, just as easily, the edge vanished.
You exhaled, the tension leaving your shoulders as if it had never been there, and the melody returned, light, soothing, wrapped in warmth.
The version of you anyone might see.
Anyone might trust.
A few days later, the change was small.
So small it couldâve been missed, if you werenât looking for it.
But people always noticed patterns, even when they didnât realize they were.
And you?
You made sure there was something to notice.
The shoreline was busy that morning, voices weaving through the salt air, the Metkayina moving in practiced rhythm as if the sea itself guided them.
You moved slower.
Not enough to draw concern.
Just enough to be⌠different.
Your steps were careful as you crossed the sand, one hand resting lightly over your stomach, not protective, not obvious. Just there. Like it belonged.
Like it had always been there.
Someone brushed past you, an accident, harmless.
You flinched.
Small. Sharp. Gone just as quickly.
âOh, Iâm sorry,â they murmured, already moving on.
âItâs okay,â you replied softly, offering a faint smile.
But your hand didnât leave your stomach this time.
You made sure of that.
Later, near the woven racks, you reached for something set just a little too high.
Normally, you wouldâve stretched. Balanced easily. Taken it without a thought.
Today, you hesitated.
Your gaze flickered downward, just briefly, before you stepped back instead, choosing something lower.
A small decision.
A meaningless one.
Except it wasnât.
Not when someone was watching.
And someone always was.
By midday, it had settled in, the quiet awareness.
Not questions.
Not yet.
Just⌠noticing.
You sat with the others as they worked, fingers moving slower than usual as you wove, your posture just slightly guarded now. Every so often, your hand would drift back, resting over your stomach like it was instinct.
Like you werenât thinking about it at all.
Across from you, Neytiriâs gaze lingered a second too long.
You didnât look up right away.
Let her look.
Let her wonder.
Only after a moment did you glance back, expression open, almost questioning, as if you hadnât noticed anything at all.
Her eyes narrowed, just slightly.
Good.
When Jake approached later, it was easier.
With him, it was always easier.
You shifted as he neared, subtle but intentional, turning just enough that his attention followed the movement, that his eyes dipped without meaning to.
Right where your hand rested.
âHey,â he said, softer now. Careful.
You smiled faintly. âHi.â
His gaze lingered for half a second longer before snapping back to your face, like heâd caught himself.
But it was too late.
The thought had already formed.
You tilted your head slightly. âWhat?â
âNothing,â he said quickly.
You held his gaze for a moment longer, then let your expression soften, like you believed him.
Like you always would.
But you shifted again when you stood.
Slower.
More deliberate.
Just enough for him to notice twice.
By evening, the pattern was set.
Not loud.
Not undeniable.
But there.
A thread woven through every movement, every pause, every careful touch.
Something fragile.
Something worth protecting.
Something people would start to piece together on their own.
You stood at the edge of the water again as the sky dimmed, your reflection rippling beneath you.
Your hand rested over your stomach, firmer now.
Certain.
Behind you, voices carried, quieter than before, but different.
Lower.
Curious.
Exactly where you wanted them.
You didnât turn.
Didnât need to.
A faint smile touched your lips, barely there.
âTheyâre starting to see,â you murmured under your breath.
âThey just donât know what theyâre looking at yet.â
The marui was quieter at night.
The sea didnât sleep, but it softened, its rhythm slower, deeper, like a breath drawn out too long. Moonlight slipped through the woven walls in pale ribbons, shifting gently with every sway.
It was warm inside. Quiet. Safe.
You lay curled into Jake, your back pressed to his chest, his arm wrapped securely around you like it had always belonged there. His hand rested over yours, both of them settled low between you, right where youâd placed them.
Right where you wanted them.
Your voice was soft as you hummed, the melody barely louder than the water below. It filled the space, easy and soothing, something he didnât question.
He never questioned you.
âYouâve been in your head all night,â he murmured, his chin brushing lightly against your hair.
You smiled faintly, eyes still closed. âJust thinking.â
âAbout what?â
A small pause.
You shifted just enough so his hand pressed more firmly over your stomach. Subtle. Natural.
Deliberate.
âAbout what happens when things change,â you said quietly.
His grip tightened instinctively, not pulling away,âWe handle it.â
Simple.
Certain.
You let out a soft breath, almost like relief, before tilting your head back slightly to look at him. Your expression was gentle, a little hesitant. but never unsure.
âIf I told you something bigâŚâ you murmured, âyou wouldnât regret it, would you?â
He didnât even hesitate.
âNo.â
Not I wouldnât.
Just no.
Final.
Your eyes searched his for a second longer, just to make sure.
Just to enjoy it.
Then you said it.
âIâm carrying your child.â
The words settled between you, but they didnât break anything.
They didnât fracture the moment.
If anything, they anchored it.
Jake went still for half a second, just enough to take it in, before his arm around you tightened, pulling you closer against him.
No doubt.
No questions.
Just certainty.
âYeah?â he murmured, voice lower now, but steady.
You nodded faintly, watching him carefully. âYeah.â
A slow breath left him, something shifting, but not in conflict.
In decision.
His hand pressed more firmly over yours, over your stomach, like he already understood what it meant. Like heâd accepted it the second you said it.
âThen thatâs it,â he said.
Simple.
Done.
Your lashes lowered slightly, hiding the flicker of something sharper beneath. âThatâs it?â
âYeah,â he repeated, brushing his thumb lightly over your hand. âYouâre not dealing with that alone. Not for a second.â
You let your shoulders relax into him, like the words had taken weight off of you.
Like you needed to hear them.
âI knew youâd say that,â you whispered.
And you did.
Jake shifted, leaning down just slightly, his forehead brushing yours. âI mean it.â
âI know,â you breathed.
Your fingers curled just a little tighter under his.
There was no hesitation in him.
No doubt to work through.
Only you.
Exactly as it should be.
You let the quiet settle again for a moment, the rhythm of the ocean filling the space where words had been.
Then, softer now:
âBut it changes things.â
Jake didnât pull away. âYeah. It does.â
You turned in his arms, slowly this time, until you were facing him fully. Close enough that your breath mingled, that he couldnât look anywhere but at you.
Your hand stayed between you.
Still resting there.
âI donât think I can pretend nothingâs different,â you said gently. âNot after this.â
His gaze didnât waver. âYou shouldnât have to.â
You searched his face, like you needed reassurance.
Like you didnât already have it.
âIf Iâm going to have your childâŚâ you murmured, your voice softening even more, âI need to know what that means for us.â
A pause.
He watched expectantly.
Didnât interrupt.
So you finished it.
Carefully.
Like it mattered.
âAnd for everything else in your life.â
There it was.
The line.
You held his gaze, steady now.
No cracks.
No hesitation.
âAre you going to choose me⌠or her?â
This time, Jake didnât go still.
Didnât struggle.
Didnât even look away.
âYou,â he said immediately.
No pause.
No weight to push through.
Just truth.
Your breath hitched, soft, almost like it caught you off guard.
But your eyes didnât miss a single thing.
Not the certainty.
Not the ease of it.
Jakeâs hand slid up slightly, brushing along your side before settling back, grounding you again. âItâs been you,â he added, quieter now. âI just hadnât said it yet.â
That cold, quiet satisfaction unfurled deep in your chest,
slow.
Certain.
Complete.
But when you leaned into him, letting your forehead rest against his again, all he felt was warmth.
Relief.
Something soft and real.
âOkay,â you whispered.
Like that was all you needed.
Like you hadnât just taken everything.
Outside, the ocean carried on, endless and steady.
And inside the marui,
you smiled, unseen.
Over the next few days, the shift was quiet.
Not sudden. Not loud.
But it was there.
It started with small things.
The kind no one could really call out.
The kind that, if questioned, could be brushed off with ease.
You stepped down from the marui one morning, the woven edge dipping slightly beneath your weight as your foot found the sand.
Before you could fully steady yourself, a hand was already there.
Firm. Certain.
Jake.
âI got you,â he murmured, like it was nothing.
Like it was normal.
You let your fingers settle into his, just for a second longer than necessary before stepping away. âIâm fine,â you said softly.
But you didnât pull away first.
He did.
Reluctantly.
Later, along the reef, the others moved easily through the shallow water, laughter carrying across the surface as they worked.
You moved slower.
Not fragile.
Just careful.
Jake noticed.
Of course he did.
âWatch your step,â he said, his voice low but close, closer than it needed to be.
Your lips curved faintly. âI know how to walk.â
âI know,â he replied, not sounding convinced at all.
His hands were clenched, fighting the urge to reach out.
Across the water, Neytiriâs gaze flickered over.
Brief.
Sharp.
Gone just as quickly.
You didnât look at her.
Not yet.
By midday, it was clearer.
Jake didnât stray far from you.
Not when others spoke to him.
Not when he moved.
Not even when he tried to pretend he wasnât doing it.
His attention always circled back.
Always checked.
Always lingered.
You made it easy for him.
A slight misstep in the sand, barely noticeable.
His hand caught your arm instantly.
âIâm okay,â you murmured, glancing up at him with a small, almost sheepish smile.
His grip didnât loosen right away.
âYeah,â he said, quieter now. âI know.â
But he stayed close after that.
Closer than before.
People noticed.
Not openly.
Not with words.
But in the way conversations paused for half a second too long.
In the way eyes followed.
In the way space shifted around you without anyone acknowledging it.
Neytiri noticed too.
She had to.
You saw it in the way her posture stiffened, just slightly, when Jake stepped in front of you as someone passed too quickly.
The way her gaze lingered when his hand found the small of your back without thinking.
The way she looked away immediately after.
Like if she didnât look,
it wouldnât mean anything.
You watched her then.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough.
She was still.
Composed.
Unmoved on the surface.
But there was something tighter in her expression now. Something restrained.
Like she was choosing not to see what was right in front of her.
Choosing not to ask.
Good.
That evening, the air was quieter.
The sky dimming, the ocean reflecting streaks of fading light.
You stood near the water again, your hand resting lightly over your stomach, your movements slow, deliberate, habit now.
Jake approached not long after.
Of course he did.
âYou should sit,â he said, glancing briefly at your stance.
You let out a soft breath, almost amused. âIâve been sitting all day.â
âStill,â he replied, gentler now, stepping closer anyway.
His hand brushed your arm, lingering.
You looked up at him, your expression warm, easy. âYou worry too much.â
âMaybe,â he said.
But he didnât stop.
You shifted slightly, leaning just a fraction closer to Jake, subtle enough to be natural.
âIâm fine,â you murmured again, quieter this time.
He nodded, but his hand didnât leave your arm.
Didnât even loosen.
The village was loud with movement that afternoon.
Voices carried between the marui, woven platforms shifting gently under steady footsteps, the air warm and restless with activity. It was the kind of day where everything blended together,
until something broke the rhythm.
You stood near one of the work areas, fingers lightly sorting through strands of fiber, your movements slower than usual. Careful. Measured.
Your hand drifted, as it always did now, resting over your stomach.
Across the village, Jake Sully lingered in conversation, but his attention kept slipping.
Back to you.
Always back to you.
It happened quickly.
A sudden sting, sharp and unexpected.
You inhaled, your body reacting before your mind did, your hand jerking slightly as the edge of a woven tool scraped across your palm. Not deep. Not serious.
But enough to draw a reaction.
A soft, startled sound left you.
At the exact same time..
A louder crack echoed from the opposite side of the platform.
A tension line snapped loose on one of the suspended racks, the woven structure jerking violently as its balance shifted. The contents slid, the frame dipping hard.
Right where Neytiri had been standing.
She caught it, but not without strain.
The movement forced her back, the rack dragging unevenly, the sudden weight pulling against her arms as she tried to steady it before it collapsed completely.
Two moments.
Same time.
Jake instantly moved towards you.
âWhat happened?â he was already there, his hand catching yours, turning it slightly as his eyes scanned your palm.
âItâs nothing,â you said softly, breath still a little uneven, your other hand instinctively pressing to your stomach.
His gaze flickered there,
locked.
Concern sharpening.
Behind him, voices rose.
People rushed toward Neytiri, the shifting structure drawing attention as she struggled to keep it from giving way completely.
You saw it.
Of course you did.
And this time,
you moved first.
âJake,â you pulled your hand gently from his, already stepping past him. âShe needs help.â
You didnât wait.
Didnât hesitate.
You went straight toward her.
Jake followed.
A step behind.
And that..
that was what everyone saw.
By the time you reached her, Neytiri had managed to steady the rack, but the tension in her arms, her shoulders, it was clear it hadnât been easy.
Her breath was sharper.
Controlled.
But strained.
You approached carefully, your expression shifting instantly, soft concern, open and gentle.
âLet me help,â you said quietly, stepping in closer, your hands lifting slightly like you meant it.
Like you were the first to reach her.
Her head snapped toward you.
Fast.
Too fast.
Her eyes burned.
Not with pain.
With something else entirely.
âDo not touch,â she snapped, tail lashing.
The words were sharp enough to cut through the noise around you.
You stilled immediately, your hands hovering before lowering slowly, your expression faltering just slightly. âI was just trying toââ
âI do not need your help,â she said again, harsher this time.
People were watching now.
Turning.
Listening.
Jake stepped up behind you, his presence close, protective without even thinking about it.
You glanced back at him for just a second,
then looked at her again, softer now.
âI know you donât,â you said gently. âI just didnât want you to get hurt.â
Your voice was calm.
Kind.
Everything hers wasnât.
Something in her snapped.
Completely.
Her hand lifted instantly.
Not hesitant.
Not restrained.
For a split second, it looked like she might strike you.
You flinched.
Instinctive.
Real enough.
Your shoulders pulling in, your head turning just slightly away,
smaller.
Vulnerable.
âHey!â Jakeâs voice cut in sharply, his hand immediately coming to your arm, pulling you behind him.
Away from her.
The movement froze everything.
Neytiri stopped.
But only because she finally saw what she was so desperately evading.
should I make a part 2? lmao Iâm too lazy I probably wonât.
Prompt: For the first time in a while, Quaritch decides to take Ace outside, and heâs pretty on edge.
The baseâs central courtyard was quieter than usual, the humming of machinery and the faint clicking of lights filling the air with a soft, steady rhythm. The reinforced walls of the RDA facility reflected a sterile glow, but in the middle of the space, a small patch of artificial greenery offered a semblance of calm, a little haven inside the base.
Quaritch moved carefully across the floor, holding Ace snugly in his arms. Even with his massive Recom body and military-trained strength, every step was cautious, precise. Ace was swaddled in a soft blanket, tiny limbs moving with innocent curiosity, eyes wide as he took in the lights, the humming machinery, and the strange, echoing sounds of the base.
âReady for your first stroll outside the quarters, little man?â Quaritch murmured softly, his deep voice almost gentle, like the ground itself was rumbling in a lullaby. Ace cooed in response, curling his small fingers around Quaritchâs thumb. The colonel flexed his massive hand just slightly, careful not to jostle him.
You stepped beside them, walking slowly to match his deliberate pace. Your hand brushed against his arm, a subtle anchor for him. âHeâs going to be fine,â you said softly, smiling down at Ace.
Quaritch grunted softly, eyes scanning the courtyard. Even though everyone in the base knew about their son, his protective instincts didnât switch off. He let his gaze sweep the space, noting every footstep, every passing Recom, every slight movement in the distance. âI just⌠donât want anyone touching him,â he muttered, voice low but carrying the unmistakable edge of authority. âHeâs mine.â
You laughed quietly. âI know. Thatâs part of why I love him with you.â
Ace wriggled slightly, tiny tail flicking in delight, and Quaritch lowered his face to look at him. âYeah, yeah,â he murmured, brushing his thumb over the babyâs cheek. âDaddyâs got you.â
They reached the center of the courtyard, where the small patch of greenery glowed faintly under soft artificial lights. Quaritch carefully set Ace down on a padded play mat he had placed in advance, ensuring every movement was measured so the baby felt safe and secure. Aceâs eyes lit up at the soft colors and textures, cooing and reaching for the little hanging toys that gently swayed above him.
Quaritch knelt beside him, massive hands hovering protectively, ready to catch him if he tumbled, though Ace stayed perfectly still, enthralled by the world around him. You came to sit on the other side, leaning close to Quaritchâs shoulder. âLook at him,â you whispered. âHeâs fascinated by everything.â
âGood,â Quaritch said softly. âBetter to know curiosity than fear. But⌠nobody comes near, you hear me?â His gaze flicked toward a pair of Recoms passing nearby. âEven if theyâre âfriendly.ââ
They slowed when they noticed him. Quaritchâs eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the faint rumble of his growl vibrating in his chest. âBack off,â he said under his breath, enough for the soldiers to hear. Their pace quickened, hands raised slightly in a respectful acknowledgment of the danger in approaching.
You chuckled softly. âYouâre ridiculous,â you said, leaning closer and resting your head against his shoulder. âYou could scare the entire base away if you wanted to.â
âMaybe I like it that way,â Quaritch muttered, glancing down at Ace. âKeeps him safe.â
The baby let out a tiny squeal of delight, reaching up with both hands toward Quaritchâs vest. He bent closer, murmuring softly as he allowed Ace to grip and explore, careful not to upset him. âThatâs it, little man,â he whispered. âPlay nice. Daddyâs right here.â
They settled into a comfortable rhythm. Ace rolled slightly on the mat, gurgling with joy as he batted at the dangling toys. Quaritch leaned back, massive shoulders relaxed just enough to let the soft glow of paternal pride show in his eyes. Every so often he would glance at you, watching the way her eyes lit up at seeing Ace happy and safe.
âYou know,â you whispered, âIâve never seen you like this. So⌠soft.â
Quaritchâs jaw twitched into a faint smirk. âOnly with him,â he muttered. ââŚAnd only with you.â
Ace let out another gurgle and reached up, tiny hands brushing against Quaritchâs chest. The colonel leaned closer, careful and gentle, pressing a kiss to the top of Aceâs head. âSee? All safe. All mine,â he murmured, voice low but full of warmth.
Minutes passed. Quaritch never relaxed fully, not entirely, but the tension eased as he watched Ace interact with his little world. Any Recom or human who passed got a subtle glare, just enough to make it clear: this was his family, and nobody was touching them.
You laughed softly as Ace babbled, reaching for both you and Quaritchsâ faces at once. âLook at him,â you said. âHeâs already so attached to you.â
Quaritchâs eyes softened, voice rumbling gently. âYeah⌠he knows who keeps him safe. Who loves him. Whoâs always here.â He leaned back slightly, letting you rest against his shoulder as you both watched Aceâs little movements.
Eventually, Ace yawned, tiny arms reaching up for both parents. Quaritch scooped him back into his arms, careful, protective, holding him close against his chest. The baby pressed his tiny cheek to Quaritchâs vest, letting out a sleepy gurgle.
âTime to head back,â You whispered, but Quaritch shook his head slightly.
âNot yet,â he said. âWe stay here⌠just a little longer.â
The base hummed quietly around them, lights flickering softly. Recom soldiers moved past without a glance, respecting the quiet bubble around the small family. Quaritch tightened his grip on Ace, eyes flicking to you, and murmured, âNo one matters right now. Only you two.â
You leaned closer, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. âI know,â she whispered.
And in that quiet courtyard of the RDA base, surrounded by steel walls and humming machines, Quaritch, soldier, Recom, protector, let himself simply be a father. A mate. And nothing else mattered.
Ace cooed softly in his arms, Quaritch pressed a gentle kiss to his head, and you smiled, hand resting on his arm. It was their first outing, yes, but in that moment, it felt like their world had always been here. Safe, soft, and theirs.
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Prompt: Quaritch takes some time to reflect on his current life, you and Ace. Heâs never been the best at expressing himself but heâs trying.
It was a quiet night by Pandora standards.
The jungle beyond the outpost pulsed with soft bioluminescent light, drifting spores glowing faintly as they floated through the humid air. Creatures called in the distance, strange whistles and deep resonant croaks echoing through the trees.
Inside the outpost barracks, the lighting was low. Most personnel had already turned in.
A small recording camera blinked to life on a nearby shelf.
To anyone glancing at the system logs later, it would appear routine. A normal recording. Another idle personal log from Colonel Miles Quaritch.
The timestamp looked ordinary.
But buried deep within the RDAâs internal archives, the file would eventually be flagged, categorized, and stored under a far less innocent label.
Behavioral Assessment: Recombinant Unit Q-01
Potential Leverage Material
Quaritch, of course, had no idea.
He sat down heavily on a metal crate in front of the camera, forearms resting on his knees. The faint jungle light filtered through the doorway, outlining the sharp angles of his Recom features.
He stared at the small blinking light for a second.
âWell⌠hell,â he muttered.
A beat passed.
âGuess this thingâs on.â
He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away before focusing on the lens again.
âColonel Quaritch. Recom division.â
The words came automatically, like every other military log heâd ever recorded.
But after a moment the rigid tone softened slightly.
ââŚThough I suppose that ainât the whole story anymore.â
He shifted on the crate, posture loosening.
âYou spend most of your life thinking the only thing youâre good for is war,â he said. âCommand. Orders. Breaking things before they break you.â
His jaw tightened faintly.
âThat was the job.â
Outside, something shrieked deep in the jungle.
Quaritch didnât react.
Instead he looked down briefly at his hands.
âThen somewhere along the lineâŚâ he muttered quietly, ââŚthings changed.â
A faint smirk touched his mouth.
âGot myself a mate.â
He shook his head slightly, almost amused by the thought.
âNever figured thatâd happen.â
His eyes lifted back toward the camera.
âSheâs tough,â he said simply. âSmarter than me too, though I donât tell her that too often.â
A quiet scoff.
âKeeps me honest.â
He paused.
âAnd then thereâs the kid.â
His voice softened without him realizing it.
âAce.â
Quaritch leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest.
âEight months old,â he said. âAlready got a grip like a damn vise.â
âJust like my wife.â He added.
A low chuckle escaping him.
âHe grabbed my finger yesterday. Wouldnât let go.â
For a moment, the hardened soldier looked thoughtful.
âYou know whatâs funny?â
He shook his head faintly.
âIâve spent most of my life leading squads into firefights without blinking.â
A quiet breath left him.
âBut that little guy starts crying in the middle of the night⌠and suddenly Iâve got no idea what the hell Iâm doing.â
Another short laugh.
âKidâs got me wrapped already.â
His gaze drifted off-camera.
âSometimes he falls asleep on my chest,â Quaritch said quietly. âJust knocks right out. Like he knows heâs safe there.â
He cleared his throat once.
âNever thought Iâd be somebodyâs safe place.â
For a moment the jungle filled the silence.
Finally he leaned forward again.
âPoint is,â he said, voice steady but low, âIâve had a lotta things in my life.â
âRank. Missions. Enemies.â
His eyes met the camera again.
âBut none of it meant much.â
His expression softened slightly.
âNot compared to going home and seeing my wife waiting for me⌠and that little kid lookinâ up like Iâm the biggest thing in his world.â
He exhaled slowly.
âDidnât think Iâd get that kind of luck.â
His hand reached toward the camera.
âBut Iâm damn glad I did.â
The recording ended with a soft click.
For several seconds the room remained silent.
Far away in a secure RDA data center, the file automatically transferred into a restricted archive.
Prompt: You have been trying to get Ace to fall asleep for what feels like ages. No luck for you it seems, so how about we let Quaritch try?
Night had settled deep over the RDA base, the air thick with the oddly warm hum of machinery and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. Everyone was asleep by now.
Well, mostly.
Inside, peace had been⌠difficult.
Your baby refused to sleep.
You had rocked him, hummed soft songs you remembered from your childhood, even walked slow circles outside in the hallway until your legs ached. Still little Ace fussed; small hands grabbing at your braid, tiny tail flicking in restless irritation.
A tired sigh left your lips as you tried again to settle him against your shoulder.
From the corner of the room, Miles Quaritch watched.
He had been leaning against the wallâshirtlessâwith his arms crossed, silent for most of the evening, observing in that steady soldierâs way of his. The Recom body suited him too well.. tall, broad, every movement precise. But right now he just looked⌠unsure.
The baby let out another whine.
Quaritch finally pushed off the wall.
âLemme try,â he said.
You blinked at him, surprised.
âYou?â you asked softly, a hint of amusement slipping through your exhaustion.
His brows furrowed with feigned offense.
âYeah, me,â he muttered, holding out his arms.
You hesitated for only a second before carefully slipping Ace into his firm arms.
Quaritch accepted him like he was handling fragile equipment he didnât quite trust himself with. His large hands adjusted awkwardly, trying to support the tiny body without squeezing too tightly.
Ace squirmed for a moment.
Then Quaritch shifted him instinctively, resting his small body against his chest, one hand spread protectively across his back.
Something about the position must have felt right.
The fussing stopped.
Both of you froze.
Ace blinked slowly, golden eyes staring up at Quaritchâs face.
Thenâwithin momentsâtheir eyelids drooped.
Your mouth parted in disbelief and relief as Aceâs tiny breathing evened out.
Asleep.
Just like that.
Quaritch looked down at the small figure curled against his chest, brow lifting slightly.
ââŚHuh.â
You leaned back against the doorway of the room, watching them carefully as he stepped towards the newly added living room. The soft glow of the babies night light painted him in a pale yellow, the baby barely visible against the broad expanse of his chest.
Quaritch lowered himself onto the one seat couch.
Carefully.
Very carefully.
One arm cradled the baby while the other rested loosely across his thigh. His posture had gone rigid, like he was afraid the slightest movement would wake him.
Minutes passed.
The jungle hummed around you.
You eventually stepped inside the living room, and approached him quietly.
âYour legâs going numb,â you whispered after a while, noticing the way he hadnât shifted once.
Quaritch gave you a small smile before turning back to the baby.
His eyes were now glued to the sleeping baby, expression softened in a way few people had ever seen.
ââŚWorth it,â he muttered.
You leaned against the couch arm beside him, a loving smile on your face.
The baby stirred for a second, small fingers getting a hold of Quaritchâs wrist.
Instinctively, his large hand covered theirs.
The gesture was so natural it almost looked practiced.
But you knew it wasnât.
Quaritch had spent most of his life in war zones, commanding troops and surviving battles. Softness had never been part of his world.
Yet here he satâcompletely stillâbecause a tiny life trusted him enough to sleep.
After a while you spoke again, voice gentle.
âYou know you can breathe, right?â
He gave a quiet scoff.
âI am breathing.â
âBarely.â
Another long silence settled between you.
The baby shifted slightly, pressing their cheek more firmly against his chest.
Quaritchâs tail flicked once behind him before going still again.
ââŚKidâs smart,â he murmured.
You tilted your head.
âOh?â
âYeah.â His voice was low, almost thoughtful. âKnows a good place to crash.â
You laughed quietly, careful not to wake the baby.
For a long time the three of you stayed there in the glowing dark.
Eventually you noticed his shoulders relaxing just a little, the hard lines of the soldier fading into something calmer.
Something warmer.
Quaritch glanced over at you briefly.
ââŚYou should get some sleep,â he said.
âAnd miss this?â you replied softly.
He huffed under his breath but didnât argue.
Instead, he adjusted the baby slightly so they were more comfortable, one massive hand resting protectively along their back.
The base was suddenly quiet, filled only with the soft breathing of your family.
And for once, Colonel Quaritch didnât move at all.
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