Recoms still get periods
recom Quaritch x recom!fem!reader
Synopsis: Despite assurances from the science pukes, your recom body still got a period. (I wrote this because I get quite heavy & painful periods), boyfriend Quaritch can't decide how to act.
Warnings: period, bleeding, Quaritch being mean about reader's hormonal/emotional state, bad cramping, mention of sex (is it a dirty joke?), I used the word uterus
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You're a lieutenant colonel (one rank just above Quaritch), so you get an office. Nothing plush or cushy, it's the RDA let's be realistic here. But it's nice, there's a window that lets some light in if the sun is in just the right position, a relatively spacious desk with some filing cabinets in the corner. There are a few personal items, a photo of your parents on Earth, a lip balm that's too tiny for your big blue mouth now. Then there's a glass of water with two pink flowers in it. They glow when it gets dark. Quaritch said there was some "fuckin' litl' bat 'possum thing" that tried to bite him when he reached to pick more, so two it was.
On this particularly gloomy Tuesday, you're sorting through boring paperwork, writing up the 'incident' that happened (Wainfleet and Mansk got into an argument about who got the last of the peanut butter and Mansk somehow ended up with a black eye and plain toast).
There's a knock on your door.
"I'm pretty busy right now, could you come back later?" You call through with a barely concealed exhaustion, not knowing who it was.
"C'mon cupcake, I gotta talk to you a moment," There it is, the Southern, no syntax drawl of your... boyfriend? Not sure yet, it's never been properly discussed. You let him in, continuing with the peanut butter paperwork.
The door swings open with a little too much force and a slight bang from the lock. "You know there's a handle, right?" You grin, teasing him.
"Yeah yeah, also don't "come in" me like I'm some kinda rookie." He huffs, but there's an undercurrent of some form of nonchalant amusement. "So sugar, you wanna tell me why Lopez wasn't flat on his ass this mornin' when he was lookin' at'cha like that?" He regards you curiously, jealously. It's not subtle, he's not happy. "I don't like sharin', call it "only child syndrome", whatever, I don't do it."
You give a short laugh "Yeah? 'Cause you sure haven't made any moves on me in public, no wonder Lopez doesn't know, no wonder nobody knows."
"What, you want me to kiss you in front of the whole damn base? Mark you as my territory, for every one of those idiot jarheads to gawk at?" He huffs. "What, you want me to piss on you?" He smiles, finding himself funny.
"You piss on me you won’t have a dick to piss from. I'll cut it off, with those really blunt, shit secateurs in the old ass shed." You seethe, clearly annoyed about something other than just his bad joke.
He looks stunned for a second, then laughs loudly, closing the door behind him as he steps into the room. Him being 9'5 his presence is looming but not intimidating, not anymore. "Woahhh, somebody's got claws today. Down kitty." He grins at another stupid joke. "What's up with ya? This isn't just Lopez, or," he gestures vaguely "...papers. Or is this just an excuse for some hate sex?" He waggles his eyebrows until you smack his forearm. "Ow, fine okay no sex"
"Recombinants," you start with a disappointed sigh. "still get periods. They told me I shouldn't get them anymore but-" he cuts you off, looking not upset for you but more for himself. He doesn't really talk about this kind of thing but he knows he has to right now, for you. "Period as in, you're bleeding... down there?". His tone is hard to read, it's a mix between concern, annoyance and plain awkwardness. He shifts on his feet uncomfortably in front of your desk once you confirm the obvious. Now it's mentioned he can smell the metallic irony scent in the air with his new powerful nose.
He avoids your gaze, a hint of an embarrassed (what for nobody knows) blush spreading across his face, strange considering he could kill a man without blinking. But a period, that's what brings him down? "Does it, uh, hurt?" He offers stiffly.
"What's up with your face?" You ask bluntly
(the face, btw ^^)
He scowls, but it's half-hearted, more of a defensive reflex than actual anger. His tail flicks like an agitated cat's. He turns around before remembering he has it. "Nothing’s up with my face," he grumbles, "Just ain't used to you talkin' about this shit... You need painkillers or somethin’?" There it isss he does care, just nonchalantly. He looks a little miffed when you inform him you took some Tylenol earlier. He's bugged that his genius plan to care for you by getting you pain relief is now null, making him essentially useless to you.
"You're gonna be cranky as hell for the next couple days, ain't you?" he says, rolling his eyes. "Just my luck. The one week a month I get off is the one where you're extra bitchy." He complains, trying to regain his "I don't care" attitude. He lets it slip when he sees the face you pull after. Uh oh.
"Excuse me?"
He opts for cocky. He grins, canines peeking out, sharp and challenging. "You heard me. You're a hellhound on the best of days, now I gotta deal with ya when I'm lucky if I don't get my dick chewed off for breathing wrong."
"Or, perhaps, you'll get it chewed off for saying the wrong thing." You snarl, watching in surprise as his grin widens. Oh so he wanted a reaction, he was poking the bear. "Oho! There she is," he purrs, "My little hurricane." He braces one hand on the back of your chair, leaning over you condescendingly. "Go ahead. Tell me what’s wrong with me sayin’ it." He challenges.
You stand, stepping away from Miles. "What's wrong with it, colonel-" you say coldly, referring to him using his title instead of personally, "-is that you have no right to comment, no right to say anything."
"No right?" he quips back, tail swishing again. "I'm the guy that's been sleeping in your bed almost every night for the past few months. I think that gives me a little right to comment, sunshine." He grazes the underside of your chin endearingly with the nickname but you jerk your head away from it, much to Quaritch's disgruntlement.
"Well.. it's mean." You decide. You've frankly had enough of this. It's saddening to admit you still get periods, that was supposed to be one of the big positives of project Phoenix that you wouldn't. The promise of Na'vi being non-placental feeling empty and hollow now that your placental human DNA biffed it out of the way for your new uterus.
He just stares, unblinking, not quite knowing what to say to the childish utterance. Finally, he gets out "Mean?" he repeats himself "Mean? Sweetheart you think that's mean? God, how did you get LT if you think that's mean?" He shakes his head, kuru swaying behind his back. "Alright, so I was mean. You want me to be nice about ya period? 'Cause I can do sweet." You look at him and realise he's being sincere. You hold back a laugh. "Fine, be sweet, be nice."
"Don't you sass me," he drawls, a warning in his amber eyes. But there's a glimmer of amusement in them, and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in the beginning of a smirk. "You asked me to be nice," he adds, voice softening to a low hum as he takes up your free space, crowding over you. "And I always deliver for my girl." (giggled writing that)
He takes a deep breath, preparing for the performance of a lifetime. Then, with perturbing sincerity, he asks "Do you need some chocolate?" You laugh, swatting his arm away "Okay, okay wrap it up." But he keeps going, looking at you with soft eyes. "We're not stopping, cringe all you want," he grabs your hand "baby". He runs a thumb over your knuckles "This is your fault." he reminds "You started this."
"I'm gonna sit here and be so nice about periods, sweetheart, you're gonna be begging me to stop by the time I'm done." He grins, absolutely loving this panto villain demeanour. "First off," he pulls you gently onto his ample lap, back against his chest, his breath warm against your skin, "I know you're in pain. And I don't like knowing you're hurt." He kisses your shoulder tenderly before continuing. "And I hate that this is a monthly occurrence for you." Another kiss. "And I know it's not your fault you're all cranky and irritable-" he checks your face to see if he said the right thing "nope- okay uh.." he hastily kisses your cheek. "I know I always say the wrong damn thing, and I hate that I can't do a thing about it." A final shoulder kiss before he moves you as he sits on your sofa.
It's more of a cradle now, you're sitting sideways in his lap, his face just up and to your left. "Hell, you even smell different." He says casually, but his alarm bells soon start ringing once he sees your expression drop. "I smell????" You panic, sniffing at your underarms and shirt, trying to identify any foreign aromas.
He sucks on his tongue to hold in his laugh. "No-" he stops you with a gentle hand on your cheek. "Well, yeah cupcake you smell. But not bad, just different, sweeter." You frown, but accept it, assuming it must be some sort of Na'vi physiological adaptation. "Weird..."
He smiles comfortingly, "Not really, probably just some kinda like, hormonal thing or somethin'". You seize the rare opportunity to tease him. "Woooow look at youuu all sciencey, didn't know you knew the word hormone.." You snicker.
Then you realise it, you're comfortable. For the entire conversation, right from the beginning you've had cramps, not the worst kind, but they're enough to be noticeable. A dull, consistent ache in the background, circling the back of your mind like a bad song. Yet sitting here, with him, Mr tuff guy extreme who once drank a bottle of ranch on a dare (Wainfleet's fault). Mr tuff guy extreme who once chewed out a medic for not handing him ibuprofen fast enough. Mr tuff guy extreme who picked a fight with a hormonal woman not even ten minutes before, and had somehow calmed her down so much so she's the most relaxed she's felt all day.
"Yeahhhh, I gotcha" He smiles lazily, rubbing circles into your lower back, like a massage. "You just lie there sweetheart, don't worry about nothin'." (chat I'm getting sleepy) "Why don't you sleep, cupcake? I'll be right here..." He repositions you so you're laying outstretched on the sofa, a special one for the giant recoms. Your head is now resting comfortably against his thighs, his hand is in your hair, gently scratching your scalp in what is an unexpectedly skilled head massage. He smiles at your happy "mmm", replying in a whisper "my mama taught me, said it's good to know how to please a girl without having to go in her panties." He smiles, knowing you're on the cusp of sleep. He wouldn't tell you that if there was any chance you'd remember it, no way he can be that soft... right?
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what's that? You wanted more Quaritch images from my Pinterest board? Oh of course paskalinnn
look at dat slutty waist
girl dinner.
look at that sassy pose. Yes diva get it
"I'll be nice, once. Then I won't" OOH I HAVE AN EDIT INTRO WITH THAT (not mine) - > https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNRfCJUvm/
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Guys am I on a roll with posting or are these going to be flops and products of procrastination?
Atani out
Hayalovay (until next time (Phrases | Learn Na'viLearn Na'vi))
