I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. By Far One Of The Most Well Written Azriel Fics I've Ever Read :)

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. by far one of the most well written azriel fics i've ever read :)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Sixteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Lucien Vanserra could kill me and I would be honored. Cannon typical violence. Some angst. Lots of fun

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Sixteen

Lucien stood in disbelief, mouth opening and closing. Words stuck in his throat.

You knew as his eyes roamed over your features that he was hunting for some mark of Helion’s that you’d inherited, whether it be the set of your eyes, the curve of your jaw, the slope of your nose, or even the tilt of your sharp ears. But he came up empty. Whatever features you did share with Helion could have easily been shared by two strangers. It was how you’d gotten away with working with him at the Day Court and attending balls by his side.

But there were some things that went deeper than skin and bones. He could barely make it out in the hum of your power and the faint, charming glow in your eyes. It was something that spoke of warmth and sparkling intellect. A sliver of the sun given form.

You were Helion’s daughter.

You were… you were his sister.

You cleared your throat and looked away. “I understand this must be a surprise. Perhaps not the kind of surprise you were hoping for.”

“You’re my sister,” Lucien finally breathed out, and the wind, so harsh and biting before, ceased.

“Half-sister… technically.”

“I don’t go by halves.”

The sharp, sudden rush of cold air into your lungs had you shivering. Lucien noticed and without thinking he reached out with his power, wrapping heat around your body until you may as well have been perched in front of a roaring fire. His magic smelled like woodsmoke and balsam.

“You’re my sister.” He repeated the phrase a few more times, finding it more believable with each swirl of the words around his tongue.

Elain had known this was coming and had given him a cryptic warning, but that did nothing to lessen the excitement spreading in his chest with each passing second.

You watched him wearily, hands clasped over your body and eyes furrowed, like you couldn’t tell if he was upset. Which was ridiculous. How could Lucien ever be upset by this?

“You’re my sister!”

A sharp laugh exited his body that grew and grew until you felt like you were floating on the waves of his happiness. He rushed forward, hoisting you in the air and spinning you around like you weighed nothing. Wind rushed past your ears as the world blurred.

He gently deposited you back on solid ground.

“How old are you? How long have you known about Helion? Where have you been all this time?” He asked the questions in rapid succession, heart hammering away in his chest.

He had a sister. A sister.

“I’m three hundred and forty-three.”

He smiled. He’d always wanted a younger sibling. A younger sister to be exact that he could teach to fight and hunt and ride with more support than he’d ever been afforded.

“I’ve known about Helion since I was little.” Lucien’s smile slipped at that revelation. “And I’ve been in the Day Court in one of the athenaeums. It was my home up until the point where Koschei burned down my house and I got saddled with Beth’s book. I’ve been here ever since. Although I never expected for any of this—” You gestured vaguely at the House, the sky, at Lucien, “to happen. Not that I’m upset!” You added quickly.

“What was it like? Growing up in the Day Court?” He looked you up and down again, searching for scars or broken bones that had never healed right. But from what he could tell, you were whole.

He clenched his fists tightly until you answered.

“It was safe. Lonely, but safe.”

“Good.” He breathed out in relief. “Good.”

Azriel watched everything from the deck that wrapped around the back of the house. The wind carried the tang of salt, opening his lungs and easing the pain in his chest that wrapped around him like a vice. He kept his wings pulled in tight and hands clasped behind his back. He was a slice in the fabric of the universe, unmoving and still.

And he missed you. Gods did he miss you.

“We shouldn’t stand so close,” Azriel murmured.

His voice was ragged, filled with more gravel than the walkway that snaked through Elain’s garden. Weighed down with secrets that felt more like anvils.

Elain dropped the empty bucket onto the deck followed by the clang of her spade. The shovel lay discarded in the field, the ground marked by neat lines of overturned earth. She cupped her hands and blew into them, breathing life back into her stiff fingers.

Twenty minutes ago he’d seen you run beneath his window, racing towards the Sidra with your robes hiked up to your knees so you could try and keep up with Lucien’s long strides as he pulled you along by your hand, red hair streaming behind him like a bundle of ribbons.

You’d been calling out for him to slow down, your voice loud and breathless.

And after everything that had happened, the things he’d seen, he couldn’t stop himself from walking down to the deck to watch you.

Now you stood at the water’s edge with your hands outstretched, dutifully holding onto every stone that Lucien plucked from the river. Your head tipped to the side in curiosity.

His childhood in Autumn had not been kind, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been happy moments sprinkled in amongst the sorrow. There in the woods with bejeweled treetops and diamond glass rivers he’d learned how to swim and fish and hunt. He’d wrestled with his brothers, fallen in love, and gained the confidence and freedom to eventually travel the Courts and make his own way in the world.

But you’d been lonely your whole life. Trapped indoors with nothing but your books for company. You’d never learned how to swim. You’d never dug through the soil for slimy worms to go fishing. You’d never fallen asleep beneath a glittering sky, fire smoke curling in the air and the taste of chestnuts lingering on your tongue and filling your belly.

It had been a different kind of sorrow, but no less real.

Lucien aimed to change some of that. Your mere presence beside him, as hesitant as it was, filled him with a happiness he couldn’t name.

He had his trousers rolled up to his thighs revealing powerful legs and freckled, caramel-brown skin. He didn’t mind the cold waters rolling over his hands as he tracked the riverbed for the smoothest, flattest stones. Every time he looked back you were either watching him or examining each stone with narrowed eyes like you’d find some algorithm carved into their edges that would tell you what made them so special for the task at hand.

Azriel couldn’t hear what you two were saying, and he didn’t send his shadows out to investigate, but soon you were tugging off your boots, then your socks, and tying the long length of your robes around your waist. You gingerly dipped your toes into the river and immediately leapt back.

Lucien’s laugh rolled over the earth, full of warmth and joy. He was grinning so wide Azriel could see the whites of his teeth and his shaking shoulders.

Inch by inch you walked into the river up to your calves and Lucien dunked his cupped hands into the cold water.

“Don’t you dare! Lucien!”

Then you were shaking your head, slapping Lucien’s hands away with a shout when he tossed the water at your face, and threatening to launch the black stones back into the river for him to fetch. Your toes were already starting to go numb.

Azriel’s heart gave a painful lurch, even as he smiled softly at the sight of you.

“I don’t… I don’t want to give them the wrong idea.” Azriel swallowed and turned his gaze down to where a plump sparrow was digging around in the grasses.

Elain ignored him, dropping her arms onto the wooden railing and staring out. She let out a lovely, longing sigh and Azriel just knew she was strumming the bond within her chest to feel Lucien on the other side.

The red-haired male looked up to meet her gaze and smiled softly. You also looked up, and then immediately looked away with rosy cheeks.

“Lucien knows where I stand. He… he’s finally beginning to trust me again.”

He’d been so eager to give her his heart the first time around, and she’d crushed it beneath her dainty shoes, too angry at the life that had been torn away to look at the one she’d been given. This time around she was determined to earn Lucien’s love, no matter how easy he made it for her. No matter how many times he told her it wasn’t something that had ever needed to be earned.

“It took some time to gain that back.” She shifted. “But then again, we were lucky. We knew what we were to each other. You still haven’t told Y/n you’re mates.”

“You know about that?”

Elain rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious, because it was.

“I don’t think I can tell her, Elain.”

“And why not?”

Azriel hesitated.

Here was a truth he hadn’t been able to express to his brothers — the truth they didn’t understand: They were good, decent males, and when it had come to their mating bonds they’d treated them with the respect they deserved. They’d been patient. They’d never tried to force a hand that wasn’t theirs.

But Azriel was… wrong. In so many ways he was wrong.

He either waited too long or he moved without thinking. He fell into obsession like a starling with clipped wings. He scrounged for scraps of affection where he wasn’t supposed to and brooded when it inevitably blew up in his face. He’d been trying to take his time with you. He’d been trying to do it right. He was…

He was already in love with you.

He’d been in love with you for some time now.

Elain smiled, still staring towards the river.

She had loved Azriel once. Not in the way she loved Lucien and not in a way that had been good for them, but still it had been love of some kind. She could feel the waves rolling off his body as he came to his quiet realization, and it felt very different from the way he’d felt about her and very similar to the way she felt about Lucien.

“I love her, Elain.” He whispered the words like they were fragile as spun sugar, ready to dissolve the moment they left his lips.

“She’ll say yes to the bond. I’ve seen it.”

Azriel let out a broken, strangled noise and looked at Elain, begging for more. “Even after—”

“Yes. Even after what that boy made you do. Even after what she learned when she touched your hand.” She looked down at Azriel’s hands, leather gloves worn and supple. She gave them a squeeze. “A year ago I had a vision of a white bird flying out of the sun with a golden ribbon tied to one of its feathers. Its wings were dipped in ink so she could leave a trail along the ground for a beast of shadow to follow.”

Azriel went still as death. “And then what happened?”

Elain looked up at him, eyes glittering. “She flew to the base of a mountain, laid down, and has been waiting ever since. She’s been waiting for you. For someone who understands what it means to be lonely and what it’s like to hope for more.”

And Azriel did exactly that. He hoped for more.

More time with you. More unrestrained touches. More midnight conversations until your eyes were threatening to shut.

Something changed then. Elain’s brown, doe eyes turned misty and flat. Her voice dropped and the hand she reached out to grab hold of his arm was cold as ice.

“You need to be careful, Az,” she warned. “Don’t let her go into the mirror. She may not come out.” She clawed at his arms. “Az, you need to be careful. The mirror…”

He gripped her shoulders, stabilizing her as she swayed on her feet.

“Elain, what—” But her vision was already gone. No matter how hard she tried to hold on it was like trying to keep water in a cracked cup.

Lucien kept his arm perfectly parallel with the earth, drew back, and snapped his wrist at the last second. The stone flew out over the glassy river and kept kissing the surface in weakening arches before it was eventually swallowed up in a dollop of salt.

“Eight.”

Lucien looked at you incredulously. “I counted nine.”

“Eight skips,” you argued. “Males always overestimate.”

“And what experience do you have with males?”

None. Except for that one glorious day you’d clung to Azriel like the world was finally peaceful. It was nowhere near the level of experience you suspected Lucien must have after centuries spent bouncing around from Court to Court. Nowhere near the level of experience Azriel or the others had when it came to touch.

You bristled. “Enough.”

Lucien smirked like he knew you were lying and held out his hand for another stone. Soon it too was lost to the river.

“How many this time?”

You twisted your lips to the side, but had to admit, “Nine.”

He was grinning.

“Come on.” He held out his hand for you, beckoning you deeper into the river. “Your turn. Just like I showed you.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Come on!”

“I will kill a fish, Lucien.”

There was a playful roll of his eyes. “Y/n—”

“I’ll end up throwing a rock so hard into the water I’ll give an innocent, unsuspecting fish brain damage.” So what if you were being melodramatic. That did nothing to counter the fact that your hand-eye coordination was shit.

“Y/n, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Wrong.

You were gods awful at this.

You tried your best to mimic the bend of Lucien’s spine as he let go of his stone, tried to mimic the way he curled his fingers against its rounded edges. But every single one of your throws was either too strong or too weak. Too high or too low.

You chucked the last rock in your hand but the spin on it — or rather lack thereof — was abysmal. It plopped into the river three yards away with a splash.

Lucien chuckled, shaking his head as you stomped back onto the beach, swearing with every step as your robes dragged through the water behind you.

You whirled around and kicked up river water in his direction.

“Stop laughing!” A smile tugged at your lips even as you said that.

“You’re doing very well!”

“Don’t be condescending.”

“I’m not!”

“I didn’t grow up in the backwoods of Autumn. I’ve never done this before,” you grumbled, your words tinged with embarrassment.

And thank the Mother you hadn’t. Yes, Lucien had always wanted a sister, but he flinched just to think of the horrors you would have faced if you’d both shared a mother instead of a father. The ways Beron would have bent you until you broke, especially as a female. Sold to the highest bidder and forced to have as many children as possible. A high-end, noble-blooded breeder.

Suddenly he wasn’t laughing anymore. The smile slipped off his bright face.

You stiffened. Some of the scars on Lucien’s body took on new meaning.

“I’m sorry, Lucien,” you said. The fun of the afternoon, as embarrassing as it had been for you, fell away. “I wasn’t thinking.”

You’d only heard whispers of the way Beron treated his children. Which could only mean that they’d endured infinitely worse.

Lucien shook his head and more of his scarlet hair came tumbling out of his braid. He looked so much like Helion in the sun that you were surprised more people didn’t know. They had the same strong noses, the same build with their tapered waists and strong legs. They even had the same dimple on their left cheeks.

But maybe Beron and his brothers had known, or at least suspected that he was different, and that had added to Lucien’s torment.

“Maybe one day you could show me though,” you asked hopefully when the silence was on the verge of becoming too loud, “I’ve never been to Autumn — I’ve not been to most places, actually — but I’d like to see it. I could show you the Day Court too.”

He shook his head slowly, rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think that would be a good idea — visiting the Day Court.”

That was the issue you’d been tiptoeing around the last two hours. You both knew about Helion, but he was only aware of your existence, not Lucien’s. And it was one thing for you to be revealed as Helion’s daughter — there’d be gossip, attempts on your life, and countless marriage proposals.

But for Lucien? He’d suddenly find himself face to face with the weight of a crown and an entire Court on his shoulders. You wouldn’t blame him for trying to avoid that fate.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “Lucien… Why haven’t you told Helion yet? Beron’s been dead for years now, and I’ve heard only good things about Eris. That he’s honest and fair. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d punish you if you claimed your right to Helion’s Court.”

His bright eyes turned bitter, all laughter disappearing. He dipped his hand into the river, picked up a rock, and chucked it back in. Its edges were too ragged anyway.

“What makes you think he doesn’t already know?”

You straightened up as if the answer were obvious. “Trust me, he doesn’t know. If he knew you were his son, he would have found ways to see you grow up. We might have even grown up together.”

It was a pathetic daydream, but one you’d been thinking about.

“You’re wrong!”

The outburst was so sudden, so unlike the Lucien everyone else spoke of that you had to take a few steps back. Smoke rose from his clenched fists and his skin pulsed, glowing with an inner light like he was more ember than fae.

He blinked rapidly then swore, brushing his salt-stiffened hair back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but…” He shook his head. “He wouldn’t have come. He didn’t come. He just left me and my mother there with that monster. He must have known what it was like — the things he did to her and the rest of us — but he never showed up. Not for my mother. Not for me.”

“He didn’t know.”

You repeated those words with the same conviction you had for everything else you knew to be true. You stepped closer and with the slope of the beach you could face him eye-to-eye.

“Do you want to know how I know? My mother wanted nothing to do with him when she found out she was pregnant. He had to hear it from one of the healers. And when I was born she forbade him from visiting, forbade him from even laying eyes on me, but he couldn’t stay away. He found ways to be in my life and protected me as best he could, and when Mom died and I was left on my own, he gave me projects with purpose so I wouldn’t crumble into nothing.” You stabbed your finger against your chest. “He did that for me. Is he a great father? Absolutely not. Is he a decent father? Maybe? Probably not, he wasn’t there most of the time. But he’s trying. I know it’s not the same and we’re still strangers and I understand if you don’t forgive him for abandoning your mother — I wouldn’t — but he would have gone for you.”

You were breathing hard now. Lucien just stared with shiny eyes and unclenched fists.

“And I think after everything you’ve been through, you deserve to know what it’s like to have a father who at least tries.”

The world was too small right now. It was too big. The Sidra had soaked through your skin and your robes were growing heavier and heavier by the second, weighed down by salt water and time.

“Would you at least consider telling him? Please?”

Because another pathetic daydream you’d been thinking of recently was that one day it might be you and Helion and Lucien. An imperfect family, but a family nevertheless. That you might not feel so alone anymore.

Lucien’s throat bobbed and he turned away from you long enough for the crisp wind to dry his tears.

“Take off your robes. They must be soaked by now. I’ll make sure you don’t go cold.'” His voice was strangled. He cleared his throat. “And I’ll look for more stones. No sister of mine is going to go through life without learning how to skip stones.”

He threw that word around so casually — sister — like saying it over and over again would somehow make the hundreds of years you’d both spent on your own disappear.

Clouds gathered steadily overhead painting the world with a wash of grey. But that did nothing to diminish the faint light that emanated from you and Lucien as you waded through the shallows and finally learned to skip stones. Lucien whooped, red hair streaming behind him, and you smiled as your last stone skipped twice over the river before disappearing beneath the surface.

You leaned back in the tall, dying grasses and sipped on the cardamom tea Elain brought down from the House, listening to the many stories Lucien had gathered over centuries spent traversing Prythian and the Human Lands. You told him about The Alcove, Cherp, your mother, and the books you read, and he listened like it was the most epic tale he’d heard in his entire life.

Sometimes you both went quiet. It was sobering to think about what you’d both endured alone without your true family. But still… it was good to have one another now.

When you walked into the packed dining room — barefoot, salt-stained, and rosy from the cold — Lucien pulled out the seat next to him for you, surprising the grey Ione.

Elain dropped gracefully into the chair across from her mate, a knowing smile on her face.

“Good day?”

You and Lucien glanced at one another. His golden eye whirred and his russet eye gleamed mischievously.

You folded your arms over your chest, forcing down the smile that threatened to make its appearance. “The worst.”

“You’re just upset because you lost,” Lucien teased, casually draping his arm over your shoulder.

“It was hardly a fair competition. You must have — what? — five-hundred years of experience against me?”

He clasped a hand over his chest. “You wound me, sister. Although, if you must know, I’m four hundred and seventeen.”

“I’m surprised you’re not a sack of bones on the floor.”

“I’m not that old.”

“I think I see a few grey hairs here and there.”

Lucien scoffed, but everyone noticed when he absentmindedly touched his long red locks as the last of the dinner plates materialized on the table. Feyre reached over from beside Lucien and squeezed his hand tightly under the table.

It wasn’t the drop of Helion’s magic that caused The High Lady’s eyes to glow so brightly. She was just happy. Lucien squeezed her hand back even tighter.

Azriel was the last to arrive, appearing in the hallway in a swath of shadows like he was stepping out of one of your dreams. He must have flown home today. Mist gathered into droplets that clung to his skin and hair and eyelashes like a thousand diamonds. Not even the faint shadows beneath his eyes could distract from his beauty, and you felt that familiar wash of comfort flow over your body when you caught his scent.

There was only one available seat left at the table. The one directly across from you and Lucien… and right next to Elain.

Your stomach dropped.

The seating arrangement was truly a horrible coincidence. One that no one seemed to recognize until it was too late and Azriel’s chair was screeching over the wooden floor. Both he and Elain shifted in their seats, quietly pulling them further apart. It should have made you feel better that Azriel was trying so hard to distance himself from Elain, but the only thing it emphasized was that they’d used to be so close.

Cassian looked over nervously at his brother, but Azriel was as impassive as always. The room fell into uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the sounds of chewing and the clinking of silverware. If the House was a person, they would be sweating buckets.

Cassian coughed and sipped his wine. “So… lovely weather we’re having.”

Lightning cracked across the darkened sky, followed by rain that began plummeting to the earth in heavy sheets.

Rhysand leaned over and smacked his brother on the back of his head and Cassian couldn’t even feign annoyance at that.

“You never fail to have incredible timing, Cassian.” Lucien drank his wine deeply and some of the tension seemed to lift from the table when everyone noticed how happy he still was. The terrible things in the world had not lessened, but Lucien felt lighter than he had in decades.

In proper Helion fashion, he kept the pleasant conversation spinning over the table, ensnaring you with the stories he tossed back and forth with Feyre.

“How was I supposed to know you’d be crazy enough to try and capture a Suriel?”

“What? Like it was meant to be difficult?”

Lucien smirked and crossed his arms. “Beginner’s luck.”

“What were the second and third times then?”

“The Suriel being a terrible busybody who was bored and wanted to spill gossip.”

Feyre flipped him off and he winked in return.

Azriel did what he always did and sat still and quiet as a mouse, eyes tracing over the flow of conversation like he knew who would speak before they’d even opened their mouths. But his eyes kept lingering on you, a smile tugging at his lips whenever one grew on yours.

Lucien noticed it the third time it happened. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. Until he found himself watching the Shadowsinger almost as intensely as Azriel was watching you.

His grip tightened around his silverware.

“I am not nearly as uptight as Gwyn says I am,” you muttered, pushing around the potatoes on your plate.

You’d sunk into your seat when, to your embarrassment, the conversation had steered in your direction. Azriel had been the one to do it, casually dropping a comment about how much time you spent in Cagniv Library and the ways in which you’d already influenced the priestesses who operated there. It was the first thing he’d said all day.

“You made a fifth year apprentice cry.”

“That’s a lie, Nesta, and you know it.”

Nesta did know it, but you’d been so quiet the past few weeks. She wanted to poke fun if only to make you smile.

“Fine, that was an exaggeration. But you interrogated Farrah like she was a war criminal. Azriel would have been impressed.”

“She’s the only expert on Cyerion Age Bauldish folklore and she was missing half the citations for her thesis! It took me ages to track down some of her sources.”

“She can’t cite a book that’s over 2,000 years old with no identifiable author. Or title. Or publishing date.”

You grumbled under your breath. Something about, “Your library gives me anxiety” and “You’re making me look bad in front of Lucien.”

“Hmmm? Sorry?” Lucien tore his eyes away from where one of Azriel’s shadows had slid under the table and was now wrapping around the leg of your chair in an effort to gain your attention.

You shook your head. “Nesta’s just trying to make me look bad.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Azriel said softly, so softly he probably hadn’t even meant to say the words aloud. He looked up from his plate, shocked to hear his own voice continue on. “Maybe after this is all done, you could take on the task of reorganizing Cagniv. I’m sure you’d be saving the next Librarian more than a few headaches.”

Your wide eyes met his across the table and for a brief moment it was like you two were alone and teasing each other over tea in the middle of the night like you used to. Two shadows illuminated by candlelight in a Court that never slept.

You sat up a little straighter. “Is that a challenge?”

Azriel smiled faintly, “Maybe. Although I’m sure Bryaxis would give you a run for your money.”

You furrowed your brows. “Bryaxis?”

Rhys smirked, “He’s the resident shadow demon that lives on the bottom floor of Cagniv. He flew down once on a dare and he high-tailed it out of the abyss white as a sheet. He still doesn’t talk about it.”

“Fuck you for bringing that up, Rhys.” Cassian’s hand trembled as he brought his fork up to his lips, “You’ll never let me live that down will you?”

“You… you have a shadow demon living in your library?” Your face twisted in horror and you slammed your knife down on the table, “Is that why a third of the catalogue is missing from the shelves? I’ve been searching for ages!”

And there it was — that faint twitch of irritation in your eyes that told Azriel you were already contemplating going down to confront Bryaxis yourself. He could imagine how you’d stand there with a hand tucked into your robes, swinging a lantern from the other as you bullied the monster into letting you move the volumes someplace else. How you’d lecture him on the importance of controlling humidity when it comes to parchment preservation, and perhaps how you’d begrudgingly agree that the creature’s darkness had protected the fragile books from light exposure.

“I knew that’s what you’d focus on,” Azriel said. His voice was deeper than an ocean, and just as full of hidden meaning. He shook his head in disbelief, a small smile gracing his lips. “You just learned you spent months studying with a monster lurking nearby — a monster that has Cassian trembling in the corner—”

“I am not trembling—”

“And you’re not afraid at all. You’re… you’re incredible, Y/n.”

You pursed your lips, tamping down the delight that threatened to spill over inside of you like champagne bubbles — light and airy and lovestruck. With only a handful of sentences, Azriel had you wishing that everyone else would just leave. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks as Azriel kept looking at you. It was a quiet, intimate undressing without an inch of skin needing to be revealed.

A tendril of shadow creeped up your arm and tugged your hair. The rest hovered shyly over a bag you recognized as Azriel’s, as if they knew they’d done wrong by ferrying it over from their master’s bedroom. But the timing was so perfect, how could they not?

With you watching, they tugged open the strings and spilled the contents on the floor.

To Lucien’s surprise, Azriel’s notorious stone-face went flush with color when he heard the thud of books and realized what his shadows had done.

“Wait—Y/n—” His chair groaned in protest when he shot to his feet.

But you were already holding them in your hands.

The Natural Trials and Tribulations of Leonora Bedroot, Three Knocks for A Kiss, and A Touch of Cinnamon. Your favorite books in the entire world. Two copies each. One brand new, and one whose pages were already flared, leather spines lovingly wrinkled.

Your breath caught in your throat when you flipped through Three Knocks for a Kiss and saw Azriel’s delicate scrawl on every page. Passages had been circled and underlined with his comments left in the margins. Small tabs of paper poked out with more handwritten notes.

Azriel’s been reading these over and over again for months now. He bought them a week after you came to Velaris because he remembered you liked books that are well loved and full of memory. The nights he couldn’t sleep and dream of you, he’d perch on his windowsill and read until morning came. You’ve given him a peace he’s never known before.

A kind of peace you thought you’d been alone in feeling.

The scent of night-chilled mountains and parchment paper filled your nose.

Azriel bowed his head ever so slightly, eyes focused on your hands now clutching the books like they were gold.

“I remembered seeing them in your apartment. I was going to give them to you at some point but…” Azriel trailed off, then whispered. “I remember what you told me about your mother reading them to you.” I remember everything you’ve told me.

“I can keep them?” Your voice was a hush over the room.

You cradled them protectively against your chest, as if at any moment they’d be torn away from you. You’d been hesitant to buy new copies after the original ones had been burned down in the Alcove. Part of their charm had always been the memories of your mother reading them aloud like they were flowers growing from her lips instead of words, buzzing and honey-laden. The books felt different now, but they still felt like something. They weren’t sterile and blank. They were filled with Azriel and all the good memories he carried with him. Few and far between as they were.

“They’re yours,” Azriel breathed, “All yours.”

Lucien looked back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the wetness in your eyes and the thinly veiled adoration in Azriel’s face now that you were looking back at him. A sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him throughout dinner, but he’d repressed it. He couldn’t repress it any longer.

No. Absolutely not. There’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

He let his shock flow through the bond and looked to Elain for confirmation.

Please tell me I’m wrong. He begged silently. Anyone but him. Literally anyone but him.

They’d yet to accept the bond, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t read each other like an open book. And right now Lucien was doing nothing to hide his seething temper.

Elain bit her pale, pink lips and nodded, confirming what he already suspected. Then, in a move of silent permission, she slid her chair six inches away from Azriel’s until she was practically sharing a seat with Nesta.

“Here we go again,” Nesta groaned and looked at Cassian. You want to get her?

Yeah I got her.

You straightened up, pressing the books to your chest in confusion. What had started off as a graciously uneventful dinner had turned into a moment of beauty that you wanted to preserve for a little while longer.

But everyone around you parted, leaning back in their chairs and pulling glasses of wine off the table before draining them in one long chug. Even Ione held her plate in her hands, popping a tomato in her mouth with interest. Mor looked nervous clutching a sweaty bottle of wine against her chest. Feyre and Rhys looked resigned and Lucien… Lucien looked livid. After all, he owed Azriel for the Blood Duel.

Cassian hoisted you out of your seat with his arms wrapped firmly around your middle and stepped back and out of the way.

Your eyes widened when Lucien stood up, skin rippling with light and power. He calmly rolled back his sleeves revealing muscular, scarred forearms, then took off his rings one by one and dropped them on the table.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

He wanted to feel it when he beat the Shadowsinger to a pulp.

Oh… Oh shit.

“Wait—Lucien!”

Lucien gritted his teeth and launched himself over the table.

Azriel didn’t flinch. His hazel eyes didn’t even flicker in surprise. In fact, you swore you saw them flutter closed in acceptance.

In another fight, Azriel might have had the advantage of wings and height, but Lucien had the wider build and the fucking motive. He slammed into the Shadowsinger’s chest and together they disappeared beneath the lip of the table before landing in a sprawl on the floor that knocked the air out of Azriel’s lungs.

Cassian winced when he heard the first of Lucien’s blows land.

“Let me go!” You kicked and squirmed in his grip, but you would have had more luck fighting a mountain. “Cassian, what the fuck?!”

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. But even I have to admit he had this coming.” There was another bloody crack. “Oh damn that sounds like it hurt.”

“Honestly, I didn't know he had it in him,” was Nesta’s only comment. Ione moved to stand beside the eldest Archeron sister so she could get a better view, a faintly amused smile on her face.

“I did,” Elain said simply. That was one of the many things she and Lucien had in common. Their general patience and understanding could only stretch so far before snapping. “Ione, perhaps you should go upstairs.”

The older woman looked offended. “Why? This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. Such drama.”

When Helion had fought Azriel, there’d been an elegance to it — something altogether noble about the event as the two stared each other down as equals.

This was nothing like that.

Lucien was pissed and even Azriel had to admit that he really, really deserved this one.

Lucien’s chest heaved, every blow of his fists against Azriel’s face punctuated by snarling words.

“First you go after my mate—” Punch. “Then my sister—” Punch. Punch. “Are you—” Punch. “Fucking—” Punch. “Kidding me?!”

The last blow sent Azriel’s head snapping back hard enough to crack the floor tiles. Blood splattered from his nose like a spray of paint lobed at a canvas and Azriel knew from his sudden inability to breath that it was broken.

“Lucien! Stop it!”

“We just redid the tiles,” Rhysand groaned, rubbing his temples.

Lucien growled and grabbed Azriel by the front of his leathers, throwing him over and onto the table. The long mahogany table, shiny and expensive as hell, snapped in two with a deafening bang. Silverware flew into the air, catching the light like holiday tinsel. Porcelain plates shattered and Azriel finally groaned in pain from the harsh twisting of his wings. The fearsome Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court could only lay there as green peas rolled down on top of him, gravy sinking into his hair.

“Not the table too,” Rhys whined. He’d had it specially commissioned for the River House.

Lucien dragged Azriel off the glorified heap of wood chips before tossing him back onto the floor, fist raised in the air.

“Alright! That’s enough,” Feyre said with a loud clap of her hands. “If you two want to fight, do it outside. I don’t want anyone breaking my house. Again.”

The River House sighed in relief.

Lucien paused just long enough for Rhysand to haul the redhead off his brother with little regard for anyone’s pride.

“Get off me,” Lucien snapped, shoving Rhys away. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

When Cassian finally let you down, you rushed over to Azriel’s side, swiping the handkerchief Rhys held out for you as you passed.

Azriel sat on the floor, face impassive despite the brutal angle of his nose and the blood sprayed over his face and neck. You cradled his face, gently nudging it this way and that as you surveyed the damage.

“Oh Azriel,” you breathed.

Bruises bloomed over his cheekbones, muddy as paint water. His right eye was almost swollen shut, and his split lips bled anew when he gave you a tentative smile.

“Hi,” he murmured reverently, leaning against the palm you cupped beneath his jaw.

Lucien gagged. “Can someone rip my eye out again? Both this time, please?”

“Damnit, Lucien!” You held the handkerchief up to Azriel’s nose, trying to stem the flow of blood before it could continue dripping from his chin. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Really, Y/n?! You’re defending him?!”

Azriel wrapped one arm protectively around your waist, eyes narrowed in a glare. With the blood coating his face he looked positively murderous. Like he’d done the beating and not Lucien.

“Don’t yell at her,” he growled, his voice dangerously low.

“For fuck’s sake.”

It had been a momentary outburst — a rare occurrence with Lucien that held no anger towards you. But you still felt the flare of Azriel’s power as shadows wrapped around you in a layer so thick you couldn’t see past your waist.

“Azriel—” You didn’t want another fight. “It's ok.”

“No. It’s not.”

Lucien was a mixed bag of emotions and he felt a dozen of them go off at the same time like fireworks. There was rage at the male who had the audacity to lay a hand on you, who’d hurt you if the rumours in Velaris were true. A bitter desire for revenge that still lay heavy on his hands after the utter hell he’d gone through watching Azriel and Elain for years. Protectiveness over you — his sister. And a tiny sliver of shame that grew every time you prodded the Shadowsinger’s bent nose and winced.

“Do you know?” Lucien’s voice shook.

“Do I know what, Lucien?”

He swore and looked at everyone in turn. The members of the Inner Circle were trying their damned hardest not to meet his eyes, nervously angling their gaze towards the ground or out the windows like the evening fog was the most interesting thing they’d ever seen.

Fucking hell. You didn’t know.

Lucien reached down over your shoulder, grabbed Azriel’s nose and shoved it back into place with a loud pop.

You cringed at the sound, but Azriel didn’t react. He was well acquainted with pain and knew how to hide it.

He breathed through his reset nose, touching the swore flesh gingerly. “Thank you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Lucien!”

He clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. Elain chose that moment to quietly slide her hand into his from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder so he was surrounded by the smell of wildflowers. She tapped the center of his chest, right where he’d told her he felt anchored by the bond, and then looked pointedly to where you kneeled on the ground in between Azriel’s legs.

And Azriel… Azriel looked lost to the world. Centuries spent relegated to the shadows as a Spymaster had wiped away his feelings, at least outwardly. But everyone could plainly see the way he kept his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your warm skin and the settling of his breathing the longer you held onto his jaw with careful fingers.

Of all the people. It had to be him.

“The Mother works in mysterious ways,” Elain whispered so only her mate could hear.

“Unfortunately for me.”

Lucien took in a ragged breath and clenched his fists, waiting for the worst of his anger to fade away before he collected the books back into the discarded bag and held it out for you.

A peace offering.

You pulled Azriel back onto his feet, keeping one hand firmly clasped in his, and glared at your brother. “That was completely unnecessary.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” And he meant it.

Your lips flattened. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Azriel?”

His mismatched eyes flared with irritation when they flickered to the Shadowsinger.

Azriel stood quietly at your side, his face a motley of red, purple, and blue. Still handsome though, much to Lucien’s annoyance.

“I’m not going to apologize for that. He deserved it. I’m just sorry you had to witness it.” Lucien hesitated, then said, “Y/n, I’m not usually like this. I don’t want you to think poorly of me just because of… him.” It was taking everything within him not to use more colorful language to describe the Shadowsinger. “It won’t happen again… unless you ask me to… which I hope you do.”

Lucien wasn’t sure what to expect. He didn’t know what anger looked like painted on your features, or sadness, and he didn’t want to. So, it was a pleasant surprise when you only rolled your eyes and muttered, “First Helion and now you. Fucking males,” before slinging the bag over your shoulder and tugging Azriel towards your room.

The Shadowsinger trailed after you without a second thought, heart hammering away in his chest.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

LET'S GO BIG BROTHER LUCIEEEEENNNNNNNNN

Y'all I had so much fucking fun writing the Lucien/Azriel fight scene. And to think that for a hot second I considered not writing it because I was worried it would be too repetitive to have Azriel get his ass beaten by both Helion and Lucien. Azriel, you poor, poor man, I'm sorry to have put you through all this. But also I'm not sorry at all.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! As always, please feel free to send me your thoughts!

Tags

azriel x reader the shadowsinger and the inkbird azriel x reader slowburn azriel x reader angst

The F-Word

The F word

Poe Dameron X G/N reader

Rating : T+

Wordcount : 6500(ish)

Warnings : Angst, FLUFF, canonical style violence, mention of injury, mention of blood, talk of death, near death experience, language, idiots in love, Poe just being adorable

Summary : Poe Dameron often likes to say he's "fine", it's "fine", everything's "fine". But when a mission goes drastically wrong you no longer believe the pilot and his use of the F-Word.

A/N : Softer and fluffier than it sounds I promise…

GIF by the lovely Salome-C

Anon - I know you submitted this request forever ago. I'm sorry it took so long to write. Since I wasn't sure which prompt list you wanted number 45 form I picked number 45 from two lists:

"You're hurt. Please just let me heal it" & "I bought this. It's your favourite colour."

— — — — — —

There were two things you had quickly realised about Poe Dameron since joining the Resistance.

The first is that the rumours were true. He actually is the best pilot in the galaxy, and much more humble about it than you would have expected. And the second, is that whenever the pilot used the word "fine", things were, in general, very much not fine.

So listening to him grit out the word through clenched teeth, hammering buttons on the console in front of him as the ship groans and alarms blare around you, you already knew things were bad. Very, very bad.

Glancing over at him, you can see sweat trickling down his brow, he's breathing hard, one hand pressed tightly against his side, the glistening of red peeking through his fingers. He'd insisted that the glancing blow from a vibro-knife during the fight that had you running back to your ship, had been nothing. He insisted it barely grazed him, and he'd be perfectly fine, but that you needed to leave now. And with the First Order hot on your tails, you hadn't had time to question it. That is, until now.

"Poe, please tell me that's not blood I'm seeing!"

"I said I'm fine," he growls in response, slamming his hand down on the controls before swinging the ship around in a way that has you almost thrown from your seat.

"You're hurt! I need to patch that!"

"Now is not the time to play medic when we have the first order busting in our cargo doors!" He shouts, clearly frustrated with your concern.

"Now's not the time for you to bleed out over the kriffin floor, either!" You yell back, redirecting your fire to take out a Tie creeping up on you.

"I know that!" He snaps, swinging the ship again. "This is not good. Not good."

You can hear him mumbling to himself between stuttered breaths as he tries to get your hyperdrive back online, while simultaneously trying to evade the first order fire. You yourself are barely keeping pace with your shots, there's too many, too quick, and Poe's flying is too erratic.

"Poe, I'm having some real trouble here," you shout over the noise, taking out another two ties, which are quickly replaced by more.

"I just need…a few minutes." Something in his voice sounds wrong, it's quiet, barely whispered out above the blaring alarm. It sends fear shooting through you.

Taking your eyes from the battle in front of you, you look back over at him. His movements are sluggish, and he groans leaning over the console. When he catches you looking, he shakes his head.

"I'm fine. Just keep shooting."

You want to keep looking at him, to make sure he's still breathing at least, but trying to keep up with the enemy ships surrounding you needs all of your attention, and when the ship judders and groans under another hit, you have no choice but to concentrate on the battle. That is, until a soft series of beeps gets both your attention.

"Ok good. Hyperdrives up, mostly," the pilot nods, taking a deep breath. "It'll do what we need."

Another round of fire glances off your shields, making the ship give a shudder of protest before you spin to take out the Tie circling you.

"Shields aren't going to…hold...much…l-longer.' His words are slurred and spaced as he tries to breathe through the pain every jolt of the ship must be causing him. Even with the little medical training you have, you know the amount of blood spreading out across his shirt, the amount of pain he's in, is not a good sign.

"Poe?"

"Just shoot!" He yells, making you flinch at his tone.

Shoot. All you had to do was shoot.

With a shudder the ship blips into hyperspace, taking a series of quick timed jumps, designed to throw off anyone who would try to follow you. When you finally come to the last jump, deep in the heart of dead space, you check the tracking console and let out a woot.

"We did it! I don't think they managed to follow us! Poe we-" the words die on your tongue as you glance over at the pilot. He's deathly pale, sweat making his hair curl at the ends, staring at the beeping console display with a frown. "Poe, you're not happy? Why aren't we happy?"

"I don't…it's fine. We'll be fine," his fingers continue tapping away, watching the flickering statistics scroll past.

"Why aren't we happy?" You ask again quietly, worry creeping into your tone. Bringing your eyes back to the display, you pull up the same information he has, and your stomach drops. The shields were gone, life support was rapidly running out and worse your fuel tank had been hit. The last of your fuel had been burned up with the final jump, rendering the ship dead.

Poe must see the look of horror on your face, and he constantly tries to reassure you in a soft, confident tone. The one he used on you when you went into your first battle and froze. The one he uses to talk to the new recruits when they get scared.

"Hey, don't worry, ok? I can-I can get a signal…out…everything will be fine."

Drawing your eyes back to the pilot, you watch as he doubles over, red seeping out over his fingers as he clutches his side, gasping in pain. You're out of your seat and at his side in seconds, trying to peel his hands away, so you can assess the situation.

"Poe, you gotta let me look at it," you beg, kneeling down and placing your hands over his.

"We don't… have time," he grits out, panting for breath.

"Yeah and I don't have time for you to go dying on me, ok? You're going to bleed out, and I'm not going to be the girl that let the poster boy of the resistance die!" You hold his stubborn gaze steady until he finally drops his hand away from his stomach. Letting out a soft sigh of relief, you carefully lift up his shirt to look at the wound, flinching at his hiss of pain. Your stomach gives a sickening turn as you take in the ragged slice through his side.

"Ok, ok, so, it probably just looks worse than it is right? Sure, you're about to tell me you're fine." You force a smile to your lips as you press your hand over the wound, attempting to stem the bleeding.

The fact he's strangely quiet is what makes you look up again. His head lolls on his chest, eyes closed, sweat dripping off his brow, breathing…but barely.

"Keep still, I'm not done." You sigh as he moves for what feels like the thousandth time as you try to stitch his wound.

"It hurts!" The pilot complains, shifting again, which earns a growl of warning from you.

"Yeah, well I'm not a medical droid, so you're gonna have to put up and stop whining about it. Or shall I just let you continue to bleed out all over the cockpit? Besides, the painkillers will kick in soon enough."

He lets out another hiss of pain, and you do feel bad, really you do. If you had a med droid it would have been quicker, easier and Poe probably would have stayed asleep for it. Unfortunately for you, he'd woken with a start, ripping half the stitches out when he tried to jump out of the pilot seat, meaning you had to start over with very little medical equipment. And since then he seemed to do everything possible to make this job harder.

Pausing in your actions, you soften your approach, letting out a sigh and trying to bite down your building fear.

"You're hurt. Please just let me heal it?"

"I'm fine," he insists with an annoyed huff, but looking him over you can still see the sheen of sweat on his skin and the stuttered way he's breathing through the pain, especially since you had to remove his shirt to patch the wound.

"Yeah, course you are," you mutter, pushing him back down when he tries to get up. "Please don't move. I'm not a good medic, and the resistance needs you alive."

"Disagree." He lets out a hiss of pain as you put in another stitch. "Actually, bad medic part, I might agree with."

He groans as he tries to get up again, and this time when you press him down you hold your hands against his chest, pinning him in place.

"Poe, stop! I'm serious. Sit your damn ass down and let me finish this." Something in your tone seems to make him stop, gazing up at you and giving you an almost playful smile.

"Yes ma'am,"

"Remind me never to fly with you again," you mutter to yourself, going back to fixing a medpatch and bandage over the wound. Frowning at the blood still seeping through.

Taking off your scarf, you gently try to clean up some of the blood covering his side, checking for any further injuries. Poe gently catches your wrist, holding you still as his eyebrows pull together.

"You know that's going to get ruined? It's your favourite one."

You frown at the fact he knows that, but then the rational part of your brain kicks in. Of course he does, you wear it everywhere. It had been a gift from home, the last thing you'd taken with you when you left for the resistance, a reminder of what you would be fighting for. You're home, everyone's homes, families, loved ones.

"Yeah well, it's just material," you shrug, refusing to look up at him, "I can get a new one."

"It's not, though, is it?" He asks softly, letting you go. From the corner of your eye you see him fingering the chain around his neck, and you know he understands. Things are most often never what they appear to be.

You stay silent, going back to cleaning him up, and he doesn't stop you again or push you for an answer, instead he lets silence settle over you for a long moment.

"Sorry I've been a bit of a dick. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I know you're trying to help," You pause and lift your eyes to look at him, but Poe is staring at his boots.

"The state of you, I'd say you're in an immense amount of pain. If I was you, I'd have done a lot more yelling. So please don't apologise," you give him a reassuring smile, watching as his eyes flick over your face.

"Still sorry," he sighs softly. Catching your hand, he squeezes your fingers gently. "I just didn't want anything to happen to you. I just want to get you back safely."

Even though both your hands are covered in blood, and you're floating through space waiting to be blasted into stardust by the First Order, or suffocated when the life support runs out, the touch still makes your heart leap. You're fairly sure he has no idea of the crush you've been harbouring since meeting the resistance pilot, and in all honesty you're glad for that. Poe, with his good looks and reputation could have anyone he wanted, and you suspect he did. There was no need to embarrass yourself, or him, when he turned you down.

You can't find an answer to his words, so you allow the silence to drag out for much longer than it needs to, savouring the feeling of his hand in yours. Of course, Poe wants to get you back safely. He holds himself accountable for too many deaths already, although they aren't his fault. If you died out here he'd only blame himself and that's the last thing you want.

But you couldn't let yourself think like that. Someone would come for you and everything would be fine. There wouldn't be anymore bodies to add to his conscience today.

Letting go of his hand, you swallow hard and busy yourself clearing up the medical equipment.

"So, Commander, how are you feeling? Let me guess, fine?" You ask, still unable to look back up at him and trying to lighten the tension threading through the cockpit. His answer is so smooth you could almost think he's had it lined up for a while now.

"Like you're just using this as an excuse to see me shirtless."

You hope he doesn't notice the way your hands fumble on the medkit at his words, or the way the heat rises to your face. Instead, you try to cover them both with a sigh and a roll of your eyes.

"Not everyone is trying to get you naked, you know."

"I didn't say everyone. I said y-" he cuts off his own words, letting out a low whine of pain as he sits up, leaning over the console. "We gotta try and get some help or get moving before they catch up. Remind me again why we didn't bring an astromec?"

"Easy mission, in and out, non-hostile, won't need one, and BB is busy doing something for the General. I can handle this myself."

Poe gives a huff of laughter of your impression of him, one that ends in a gasp and has his hands flying to hold his side. Your own hands automatically cover his, as though you could make any difference to the pain he's in by pressing your palm against his knuckles.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Just don't make me laugh again," he smiles reassuringly, but you can feel his fingers trembling under yours.

"I'm banning that word as soon as we get back. The next time you use the word fine in my presence I'll-" you pause, not sure what your actual threat would be, and it earns you a lopsided grin.

"You'll what?"

"I'll do something terrible you won't like," you finish lamely. "Now just sit still while I see what we can do about getting a distress signal out."

"Fuck," the curse stutters out quietly, and he tries to cover it with a cough, but you catch the word, and the grimace of pain he tries to mask. It sends a spark of worry through you. He shouldn't still be in this much pain, not after the amount of painkillers you've dosed him with over the past hour.

His eyes catch yours in the dim emergency lighting and despite the pain, he still manages to give you a cheeky smile. "Caught you staring. Would you rather I put my shit…urgh…shirt back on?"

"You're in pain," is your flat response, no longer even taking any notice of his lack of clothing, "can I do anything to help?"

"You can kiss me?"

The data pad you'd been holding while checking for a rescue, clatters noisily to the floor as your hands forget to work, staring at him in shock.

"What?"

"I said you can kiss me." He wheezes out a small laugh with a grimace of pain, evidently entertained by your reaction. With a huff, you pick up the data pad, brushing down your clothes in distraction.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because it would distract me from the pain. It's my dying wish. You have to grant it."

"You are not dying. Don't talk like that," you frown at him, your stomach twisting as you look him over. He's too pale, and all too clearly trembling from the pain.

"Feels a lot like dying." The absolute lack of humour in his words is what worries you the most.

Kneeling down next to him, you press the back of your hand to his forehead, fear splintering through you at the burning heat that meets your skin. Glancing down at the wound, you can see blood still slowly seeping through the bandages and your stomach lurches at the sight, well aware he shouldn't still be bleeding this much. Carefully peeling down some of the bandages, you look over the wound, taking in the black threads creeping out under his skin from the cut. It's like nothing you've ever seen before - They run like dark veins, spider webbing out across his skin, spreading further with each passing moment. You have to carefully school your expression in order to not alarm him, but Poe is the most observant person you know, and he notices even the smallest stiffen of your shoulders.

"It's not looking good, is it?"

"No, it's not looking good," you admit quietly, noticing he doesn't even look down for himself.

"You know, I always thought I'd go out in battle? Pulling some heroic stunt in my X-Wing?" He sighs, leaning back in the chair and staring at the darkness through the transparisteel pane, his breathing shallow and laboured. "At least it's still out here, in the stars."

"Poe, listen, you aren't dying here. I forbid it. I order you to make it home and live a long, happy life."

He smiles, rolling his head onto his shoulder and flicking his eyes to you. It's clear the effort of holding it up is becoming too much, which only makes your heart pound harder in fear.

"I'm your boss. You don't make orders," he tries to give you a teasing grin, but he only manages a grimace.

"I'm staging a mutiny against you. So, now I'm the boss, and I'm ordering you not to die." You hope the words come out more firmly than they feel, desperate more to keep him talking than anything else.

"I've never been good at following orders," his lips twitch in a small smile as beads of sweat break free from his forehead, rolling down over his cheeks like tears. "I'll try, though, just for you. Need a better offer tho- fuck!" he doubles over, taking a few short shaking breaths.

Something was wrong. Something was so terribly wrong, and you have no idea what to do, how to help. You can feel tears pricking your eyes, helplessly pressing your hands over his.

Glancing down, your heart drops into your stomach as the SOS signal still pinging away on the datapad shows nothing, no incoming ships, no planets or moons, just the empty vastness of space and the quickly running out life support.

Poe was going to die out here. And soon after you would too. How poetic to die with the man you fell for, before you ever had the courage to tell him. Far from romantic like in the holovids you only feel a bitter disappointment of time stolen from you, and the sharp tang of fear on your tongue.

Poe goes quiet so suddenly that you think he's already gone, his eyes drifting shut, sweat dripping off him, his breathing barely there. Jumping into action, you grab his shoulders.

"Hey no, no, no sleeping. Stay awake, ok? Poe, stay awake," you desperately shake him until his eyes open a little, blinking blearily at you as though he can't see you properly. "I'll make you a better deal, ok? How about, you stay awake and make it home alive, and then I'll kiss you. I promise. But you gotta get home alive first," you warn him, reaching up to brush his damp curls away from his forehead.

Poe affords you a small, exhausted smile, his eyes half lidded and glazed.

"I always liked you, you know? Bit disappointed…I won't…be able to…accept that…deal," his sentence is broken between gasped breaths and fear tightens painfully in your chest.

You shush him softly, shaking your head.

"You're going to be fine, ok? You're fine. You're always fine." Grabbing his hand, you hold it tightly in yours, feeling the tears you'd been holding back break free, rolling down your cheeks as you whisper.

Poe doesn't even attempt to squeeze your fingers, his hand stays limp in yours as you desperately bite back sobs of fear. "I promise I'll kiss you when we get back. I promise you can have anything you like. Just don't die on me, ok?"

"Don't cry…I'll…be fine," he chokes out. He lifts as hand, as though he would brush the tears from your cheeks but it never makes it that far up, it drops limp to his side as his eyes roll back in his head, his breathing stutters, and silence engulfs the ship.

You sit back in your chair, stretching out your sore muscles, staring at the words on your report. They told you there was nothing you could have done. The blade had been tipped with poison and it was spreading fast through the pilot's veins, each beat of his heart pushed him closer to death. The medical training you had, the supplies on the ship, none of it was equipped to deal with something like that. No, you did everything you could. You couldn't have done anything more, or at least that's what they tell you.

It had felt like days sitting in silence, Poe's hand growing colder in yours, the only noise the warning beep of the failing life support. No matter how hard you tried to wake him, he wouldn't even stir. Dizzy from the lack of oxygen, you'd laid your head against his thigh, squeezing his cold hand as you waited for your own demise. You were grateful for the dim lighting then. It meant you didn't have to look, you didn't have to see if his breathing had stopped.

The image of Poe motionless, his head lolling to one side, as they carried him onto the rescue ship, had haunted your dreams for weeks. He was no longer the effervescent pilot, no longer full of life, teasing and commanding. The last image you had of him was a broken doll, limp and lifeless.

You can kiss me?

His words ring out so clear in the room it's almost as though he was standing beside you, with the playful smirk he always seems to have around you, dancing in his lips.

Maker, you missed him.

You'd gotten used to his presence in your life — the easy friendship and banter, the way he never made you feel like less, even though you're the least experienced pilot he's ever had in his squadron. You miss his laughter that happens at the most inappropriate times. You miss him distracting you on purpose when you're trying to concentrate. You even missed him being snappy and grumpy when he was tired. You missed him so much more than you could have imagined.

With a sniff, you hastily wipe your eyes. It was no good dwelling on what already happened.

"No point crying over spilt caf. Just get another cup," Poe would often tell you brightly when things went wrong.

Taking a deep breath, you go back to the report, determined to finish it in the hopes that once it was done, you'd never have to think on that day again. That's the reason you'd come here, all the way at the edge of the base, to the abandoned part, filled with empty rooms full of dust, to finish this damn report in peace. But even as your fingers hover over the keys to start typing, a hesitant knock on the door stops you.

With a groan of annoyance, you push the chair away from the desk, standing up on stiff legs that have been sitting too long and don't want to move. It’s a surprise that anyone has even come this far down the base, let alone appears to be purposely coming to find you.

Pressing your hand to the door panel it slides open with a soft woosh, revealing a head of messy curls, an impish grin and a pilot who should, to your knowledge, still be laid up in medical recovering for at least another couple of weeks.

"Poe! You're out!"

"Yeah, I escaped my captors, and I'm on the run! So I probably don't have long before they drag me back. Did you miss me?" He grins in an all too familiar way, as though you haven't been separated for weeks. "I've been looking for you for ages. Why are you here? Nobody uses this room anymore. Meeting up with a secret lover?" He pokes his head into the small room you've been using to work in, confirming that it's empty, as though you might have been hiding someone inside.

You blink in shock a few times, still surprised he's standing in front of you, when the nurses had exasperatedly told you for the tenth time, that his recovery would take at least a few more weeks. He didn't yet have his full strength, nothing had changed since yesterday and no you were absolutely not allowed to visit him. But the grinning man standing in the doorway, albeit a little less put together than he usually would be with his crumpled untucked shirt, tired eyes and messy hair, seems like he's perfectly fine.

"So, what are you doing?" He asks again, raising an eyebrow when you fail to answer his questions.

"Oh, I just needed somewhere quiet to finish some reports, you know, about what happened. And I guess I'm hiding a bit," you shrug, shuffling your feet, suddenly awkward in his presence after weeks of not being allowed to see him. "People keep asking me what happened, how you are, if I've seen you, blah blah. I swear, if I have to hear one more girl simper at the fact you got hurt, I might defect to the First Order just to save my sanity. How are you feeling?"

"Me? I'm fine, and I can't help being popular," he grins with an easy shrug. "Can you tell me who's been asking though? I'm hoping one person in particular might have been enquiring after me?"

You frown at him, trying to bury the spark of hurt at the comment. It isn't Poe's fault you have feelings he doesn't know about. But even so, your answer comes out snappier than you mean.

"Go ask them yourself instead of bothering me."

Poe raises both eyebrows this time at your tone, but there's still a hint of a smile on his lips as he shrugs.

"Alright, I will. In fact, I'll go ask them right now." He spins on his heel and walks two steps, barely giving you time to feel the stab of hurt in your chest, before he turns back around to face you. "Oh, hey, there you are! I just wanted to ask if you have been enquiring about me and my wellbeing since I almost died?"

"What are you doing?" You sigh with a shake of your head, your demeanour softening as he walks back to you.

"Asking the only person on base I care about, at least in a ‘I’ve fallen head over heels for you’ sort of way, if they asked about me while I was recovering?"

You flounder, opening your mouth and closing it again as he grins. Heat floods through every inch of your skin, and you're sure your expression is one of absolute shock.

"No? And here I thought they were upset and worried about me. Frankly, I'm a bit offended now because they made me a promise. And you know, promises made on people's death beds you have to keep. It's the law." He stares at you seriously, his expression almost grave but it's not hard to see him fighting back a smile.

You have to fight to keep your breathing steady, your stomach plunging down to your feet at his words. Part of you had perhaps hoped that he hadn't heard you say that, that maybe he'd be too out of it by then to remember it, that maybe the trauma had wiped it from his mind. Or, at the very least, he would have taken it as a joke. Now you can't tell now if he's using it to tease you, or he's actually serious.

"If I remember right," he pauses, tapping his chin with his index finger as he pretends to think, "I think you might have said I could have anything I wanted if we got home? Sound about right?" He raises an eyebrow at you as he watches you squirm in embarrassment.

"I-I…well… it was a stressful situation…" you stutter, heat prickling out across your skin, "I just…wanted to make sure you got home…and…I-I just…you know, said stuff to keep you awake."

His expression softens as you trail off, gesturing wildly and trying to defend your words.

"Oh, so you don't want to kiss me?" He tilts his head, regarding you standing frozen, still trying to process exactly what he's trying to tell you. "Listen, I'm an idiot. I should have told you this a long time ago. I know you like me. You're terrible at hiding it. But," he pauses with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, "I always thought you would make a move if it's what you wanted. But then out there, when you made that promise, I thought maybe… maybe you do want me as much as I want you?"

You could kiss me?

His words come back from the ship in stark clarity. You had assumed he was joking, trying to lighten the mood and tease you. But now you realise he was serious. He was asking for something he thought he couldn't ever have, because it was his last chance to do it.

A whole storm of emotions rise up quickly and overwhelmingly, the biggest being the regret that you hadn't listened, not truly listened. Not just that day on the ship, but always. The more you think about it, the more opportunities you know he's given you to say something, anything, about your feelings, and you'd let them pass by.

Taking a deep breath, you meet his questioning gaze.

"Well…I did promise you anything you wanted if you got home," you finally answer quietly.

The pilot pauses for just a moment, swallowing almost nervously as though he had expected your rejection, before he nods solemnly, taking a step closer to you. Bringing his hand up to rest against the side of your neck, he rubs his thumb across your cheek before down to softly trace your bottom lip.

"You did," he replies softly, as your breath catches at his touch.

"And it was your dying wish," you continue, your heart hammering against your ribs in anticipation.

"It was," he whispers, leaning into you and bringing his lips a breath away from yours, allowing his soft curls to brush against your forehead. The blood roars in your ears, deafeningly loud and you wonder if he can feel the heat currently blazing out across your skin.

"And you're sure you're in your right mind?"

"I am," he answers, and you catch the flicker of a smile before he presses his lips to yours.

It's nothing like what you imagined kissing him to be like. He's sweetly tender — first the slightest brush of his lips against yours before placing gentle kisses to your top and bottom lip. Only when you relax — the tension you hadn't realised you were holding dropping from your shoulders — does he sweep his tongue across your lower lip, deepening the kiss. His tongue slides against your own, carefully slow, as though he has all the time in the world to map each part of your mouth.

You can't help but allow a soft moan to escape as he kisses you, and your reaction seems to be the signal he needs, because he stops holding back.

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close against him as his tongue battles yours with ravenous desire. Your hands tangle in his hair, kissing him back with as much desperate passion as he was giving you.

The way he kisses you is all consuming, wiping away thoughts of anything else that exists in the galaxy. You hardly notice the way he backs you up into the room, without ever breaking your kiss.

He doesn't pause until your legs hit the back of the desk. Only then does he pull away from you, taking your lower lip in his teeth and tugging gently. You let out a somewhat shaky breath, having only a moment to breathe before his mouth crashes into yours again, kissing you as though he's been starved of touch for years, not just a few weeks.

When you eventually break apart, giddy with excitement and breathing heavily, he continues to steal quick kisses from you, keeping you pressed close against him.

"Stars," he breathes softly, leaning his forehead against yours, as you bite your lip shyly, still trying to process the fact he kissed you, and like that. "Yeah, that was absolutely worth almost dying for."

"Yeah, maybe take out the near death experience next time though?" You laugh breathlessly, allowing your eyes to flicker closed as you enjoy the moment, trying to calm your heart to a normal speed again. Maker, there's no way you'll survive if he kisses you like that again.

"Do you mind if I sit down for a second?" He asks suddenly. Blinking yourself out of your kiss hazed daze, you notice how pale he's become, and you have a sudden stab of anxiety. It's a stark reminder that he's still not well and should be resting.

"Yeah, come on."

He doesn't walk like he needs your help, but he allows you to support him as you lead him around the other side of the desk to sit down in the chair. "This is why you were supposed to stay in medical."

"I'm useless sitting there, though," he complains. "They won't let me have visitors, they won't let me do any work. Apparently I'm too likely to tire myself out if I leave. Like they know," he scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

That at least makes your frown soften just a little. Imagining Poe confined to a small corridor of rooms was difficult, given his chaotic nature.

"You kiss a someone and you go weak at the knees. I think maybe you should be listening to people who know better?"

"I think that was because I had to look everywhere for you while evading capture," He complains, giving you a pointed look as though it's your fault. "I can't be cooped up in there any longer. I'd rather spend as much time as I can with you until they track me down. I've sent BB to tell them I'll be back later anyway," he grins proudly at his own plan to evade medical care, making you roll your eyes. "Let me do something useful, please."

"Poe," you start gently, leaning back on the desk, but he knows what's coming and gives you a pleading look, making you stop your lecture and sigh. "Fine, just tell me honestly how you're feeling now?"

"Really I'm fi-"

One glare from you stops him in his tracks. He gives you a small nod, remembering that the word is banned between you now.

"I feel like I could sleep for a month and still be tired," he sighs honestly, leaning back in the chair to stare at the ceiling, "I mean I feel like that all the time now. It's getting better but it's taking too long. I feel trapped. I need to be doing something to help. I can't just lie down all day and let everyone else do all the work."

His frustration is evident, and it makes your heart ache for him. You know this is Poe's worst nightmare, having to sit back and watch, unable to do anything to help. Pushing yourself off the desk, you instead stand between his legs, gently brushing your hands through his soft curls as he looks up at you.

"You did almost die. You just gotta take it easy for a little while. You'll be back in your X-Wing flying circles around everyone in no time." Leaning over, you hug him tightly, feeling his arms slide around your waist as he buries his face in your neck. "They said you'll be better soon. Just be patient with them, they are doing their job."

He sighs softly, squeezing you hard before he lets you go. Sitting back down on the edge of the desk, you look him over as he talks, glad the colour seems to be returning to his cheeks.

"I know. I'll go back later. But will you please let me stay for a couple of hours? I'll be fi-alright now, I promise. It just comes and goes when I overexert myself."

"Well then I guess kissing is off the cards for the rest of the day," you smile, and he gives you an unimpressed look. "Hey, you said you wanted to help. Kissing me is not helping anyone."

"It helps me," he grins. "Besides, I deserve them. I came bearing gifts!"

He fishes around in his jacket pockets, eventually slowly pulling out a length of material and placing it in your hands, his gaze hopeful and wide as you look it over. You run your fingers across the soft fabric, watching the lights catching the colour as it slips through your fingers.

"I bought this for you. It's your favourite colour, right? I know it doesn't replace the one I ruined, but still. It's a sort of thank you for saving my life. But you know if you don't like it…" he trails off, watching your expression.

He knew your favourite colour. Your heart swells, and your fingers tighten in the scarf, stopping yourself from throwing your arms around him, purely from fear the sudden movement might hurt him.

"I love it. It's honestly perfect. Thank you, Poe." Leaning over again you brush your lips sweetly against his as his eyes light up with relief.

"Wish I could take credit for anything but the colour," he smiles sheepishly. "I had to send Karè out with instructions because they wouldn't let me leave medical."

You lean back against the desk as he stands up holding his hands out for the scarf.

"Can I?"

Nodding, you hand it back to him, allowing him to carefully wrap it around your neck, his thumbs brushing softly against the edges of your jaw as he does. You wrap your arms around him as he leans into you, brushing his nose against yours, barely allowing his lips to ghost over yours, sweetly teasing you until you pout. With a soft laugh at your reaction he finally kisses you properly, with an intensity that makes your own knees go weak.

By the time you pull away, you're breathless, and the room is far too warm once more.

"If you keep kissing me like that, I'll end up in medical with you," you giggle before you pause, pulling back to look at him suspiciously. "Maybe I'm already in medical? This is just a really good dream, isn't it?"

Poe laughs softly and shakes his head.

"I really hope not, but if you do wake up, I'll kiss you again and remind you just how much I like you."

You roll your eyes and shake your head, "Ok being sweet is not going to stop me sending you back to bed."

He grins, knowing he's been caught out.

"How about we make a new deal? I’ll sit here with you, and I'll be very good and quiet, and then when you’re done with your reports I'll go back to medical for the night?” He gives you a soft kiss, and you're sure its purely in distraction.

“I feel like there’s a but coming,” you raise an eyebrow at him, and there's a look of absolute mischief shining in his eyes.

"But you have to sit on my lap,”

Maker, he was going to be a nightmare this entire recovery.

----------

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bakersbucky

2 years ago

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

₊° - 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞)

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵: Hiii! I was wondering if I could request a Draco x fem!reader where the reader is this super shy girl with insecurities and has a really big crush on Draco but nobody knows about it and draco has never even noticed her and Draco and reader somehow get trapped in a small like closet or classroom together and can’t get out because they dropped their wands and Draco hates it at first but they eventually settle into a really deep conversation that leaves Draco feeling a certain way about the reader by the time they are finally let out. Please and thank you!! :)

𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘪 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

His footsteps echoed against the cold tile floor as Draco Malfoy hurried through the hallways, distancing himself as far away from the Dungeons as he could. However, he needed to step up his pace if he wanted Professor Snape to lose him among the plethora of students squandering the corridors. The wooshing of his cape and the fast approach of his footsteps still sounded too close to Draco for his comfort.

“Stop at once!” Snape’s voice bellowed through the corridor, making students around him look up in fright, afraid he might have it out for one of them. Draco sprinted up the stairs, stumbling into some second years as he stopped for a split second to take in his surroundings— more students, but not enough to blend in with. His eyes scanned the hallway and then fell on one of the storage closet doors. It was ajar. Without thinking he rushed inside, trying his best to let the heavy dark wooden door fall silently shut. He breathed through his nose, trying to regain his breathing quietly, and heard students mumble and jump away as Professor Snape’s voice neared.

Draco was close to letting out a yell of surprise when the wooden door opened and fell shut in its hinges with a loud clang, making him jump aside into the shadows of the closet as someone bumped into him. But when he looked up, he didn’t find Professor Snape staring down at him. Instead, he had to lower his eyes a couple of centimetres before they met those of a girl.

“Bloody hell, do you-” His cuss was cut short by the hiss of the girl in front of him, staring at the door in the dark of the closet.

“Shut it-” Almost as quickly, the girl shoved his wand back down, stopping him from casting Lumos and quite possibly betraying her hiding space. The two waited, in the dark, unaware of who the other actually was. The girl’s ear was tightly pressed against the door, eager to find out if the coast was clear. Getting impatient, Draco shoved her aside, wanting to listen for himself.

“Why-”

The girl shushed him again and softly slapped against his hand which was starting to put too much weight on the door, making it creak in protest. Somewhere in the distance, they couldhear the students disperse after the grande bell in the Clock Tower roared through the school three times.

Draco sighed in relief, knowing Snape must have left in order to make it to his class, and so he cast Lumos to find the door handle in the dark. He clumsily and somewhat harshly shoved the girl aside once more,

“Out of my way.” Once his wand lit up the closet, he could finally see who he had been in hiding with, and his jaw slacked and his ears turned red when he realised he never meant to be so rude to the girl in front of him.

Y/N stared back at him, eyes full of shock and terror at the realisation of who she had been sharing the cramped closet with, and she didn't even register the soft and mumbled apology that Draco muttered under his breath until she saw his lips move. Embarrassed by looking at his lips, her eyes immediately shot up to his, but the nerves and blush that coated her cheeks immediately after that made her realise how big of a mistake that decision had been.

“I- um… I… sure, of course.” She stammered, moving past him to give him the room, growing even more embarrassed as she stepped on his feet, making the sixth-year Slytherin hiss in pain.

“I’m so sorry! Merlin, I-”

“It’s fine,” Draco mumbled quickly, but not nearly as harshly as he would have treated anyone else.

Draco cleared his throat, masking his own nerves, and rattled the doorknob, simultaneously pushing his whole weight against the heavy door. It didn't budge, not even a millimetre.

“What the-”

“Alohomora.” Y/N flicked her wand quickly, wanting to help the boy out and not make more of a fool of herself. Only the door didn't open after the basic spell.

Surprised, Draco looked back at her for a split second before turning back to the door to try it himself.

“Alohomora.” Nothing. He repeated himself a couple of times, through gritted teeth, before finally shoving his wand back in his robe.

“What did you do to it before you walked in?”

Taken back by the accusation and the annoyed furrow of Draco’s brows, the girl felt too accused to realise her initial fright, “Me? I didn’t do anything.” She rattled the doorknob once more, not liking the accusing tone the Slytherin used, “You were here before me.”

Draco sniffed in disdain and punched the door, “Is that why you came here, to lock me up with you?” The moment he said it and saw the look on Y/N’s face, he wished he hadn’t. His anger had taken over once more. It wasn’t a rare occurrence as of late. The task the Dark Lord had given him weighed heavily on him, and it was even worse that he could tell no one. He had to lie, even if he knew that Dumbledore was probably well aware of everything going on. If that all wasn’t worse enough, Snape had been breathing down his neck ever since the first day of school. He needed to do this himself, and he sure as hell didn’t need any help.

He noticed Y/N’s silence and saw the girl with her arms crossed, in an attempt to hug herself to comfort while staring down at the tiled floor. This was his doing, his actions had caused her to shut herself out. He didn’t know the girl on a personal level, but had shared classes with her for years and had often caught himself staring at her. Never had he ever seen her this uncomfortable. He hated himself for being the reason behind it.

“Sorry.” He said curtly, for the first time in years apologising to someone other than his father. The girl merely shrugged in reply, as a way to shake it off, but Draco could see how bad it made her feel.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine, Draco.” She finally said, his name rolling off her tongue like silk.

He tried to keep the most distance he could in the cramped closet, to not make her even more uncomfortable. Only he failed to realise that her silence and unease weren't because of his comments, but because of his presence. You see, in some other reality where Y/N wasn’t as shy as she was, she would have loved being trapped in a closet with the boy she’s had the biggest crush on ever since first seeing him. Perhaps she would even make use of it. But in this reality, the only thing she wanted to happen was for the floor to swallow her whole. She tried her best to hide the blush on her cheeks by focusing on the ground. She would never act on her crush on the Malfoy boy. She'd always been intimidated by him, for his status, wealth and friends created some sort of distance between him and everyone else at Hogwarts. Not to mention, Draco Malfoy made it all too clear how much he loathed Muggleborns on a day-to-day basis. She was too different from him in every way, he would never like someone like her, let alone her. She cowered away at that realisation.

Y/N had admired the boy from afar for years, cheeks turning scarlet whenever he so much as glanced her way. She had made sure to be discreet about it, and was almost certain that the boy had no clue. Pansy and the others had though, oh they had, and they made it painfully clear as well. They made fun of her whenever she walked by. Draco never joined their jesting or laughter, probably too busy to be wanting to pay her attention anyway. But Y/N couldn’t help but pay attention to the silver haired boy each and every opportunity she got. Hence why it had become clear that he was changing. He could stare off into the distance for the duration of a whole class, he seemed to shut himself out from his friends and no longer made it his duty to pester anyone different from him. He had turned more skittish, more anxious. Unfortunately she would never find out why, nor dare to ask. For now, she would have to keep it at secret glances, even if they weren’t so secret to Draco.

Draco put a finger to his mouth when footsteps approached, and a shadow was seen to stand in the light below the creak of the door. The pair grew quiet, until the footstep disappeared again.

Relieved, Draco turned to lean against the cold wall, staring at the girl in front of him and shamelessly taking in every detail that was available to him in this little light. The girl was beautiful, but that wasn’t something he hadn't been aware of already. However, he had never been up close to her before, so he took his time taking her in. Another blush crept on Y/N’s cheeks when the boy shamelessly stared at her, checking her out.

He tilted his head in curiosity, “So why are you hiding here?”

Y/N swallowed, realising she wouldn’t be able to come up with a believable lie without stuttering or stumbling over her words, “I um… They were messing with me.” Draco tilted his head the other side, wanting her to elaborate, “They tried to throw a few hexes at me so I ran.” The burning of her cheeks didn't disappear when she revealed how she had run like a coward and had done so for the past six years.

“Who?” He quipped.

Y/N bit her lip, contemplating wether to come clean or not. But who was she kidding? The whole school knew of Pansy’s disdain against her.

“Pansy and her friends.”

Realising that Pansy’s friends were also Draco’s, she tried the doorknob again, “I’m sorry, I can go. No, I should go. I’ll find another spot. I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”

Draco listened to her rambles and the ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. He wasn’t enjoying her anxiety, no, he found it adorable how she wanted to flee from him so bad when all she had done for the past six years was probably wish for a moment like this.

“I don’t think it will open. We’ve tried already, remember?” He teased, then saw it didn’t do anything to calm her down. “Relax- It’s fine.” He assured.

Y/N let out a relieved breath, “Right, good. Because this is my usual spot.” She surprised herself by the joke that so effortlessly rolled of her lips, “So if anything, it should be you having to scurry away.”

Amused, Draco raised an eyebrow, and then he laughed, impressed by her quick wit. Either Y/N was growing confident, or she was still too shocked to be in a closet with him to think of anything she was saying.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, by the way.” His voice now close to a whisper, he pushed himself off the wall. Once again, he found himself needing to apologise, “Sorry if I did. I was frustrated.” He knew it was a shitty excuse, but noticed the girl’s shoulders relaxing.

Then for a third time, he opened his mouth to apologise, “I’m sorry they’ve been treating you that way.”

Y/N’s eyes snapped up to his, surprised at the sudden statement in which he did not back his friends, for all that she knew, for the first time ever.

“I don’t think you’re ugly, daft or boring, by the way. You’re quite the marvellous witch.”

“I thought Mudbloods can’t be witches.” The challenging reply had left her mouth before she could stop it, but she was surprised to see the crooked grin on his face, instead of an annoyed scowl like the one that he would usually sport.

He wagged a finger and nodded his head, “Keeping me on my toes, I see. Good.” He stared at her again with that unbridled sense of confidence and pride, and Y/N found herself wanting to slap it off his perfectly sculpted Grecian face.

“Better than all those fools who just nod at everything I say and don’t have an opinion of their own.”

“I think they want to agree with what you have to say because you can be quite intimidating, did you know?” Y/N slid down the wall and landed on a wooden crate.

He stared at her, letting her words land in his head before following her example and sitting down.

“Perhaps.” He pursed his lips, “That still gives you more guts than any of them. Didn’t know you had it in you.” The backhanded compliment didn't fly over her head, if anything, it made her incredibly aware of the situation again.

She swallowed, and with a small voice, she muttered, “You don’t know me at all.”

Draco let out a big breath, one that served as a reply of its own. Too bad he didn’t have the luxury to befriend whoever he wanted. No, they had to be of status, wealthy or pureblood. Otherwise, his family’s name would be tainted and they would be shunned. He had always believed his parents when they had told him how things were supposed to be. But ever since he had caught Y/N staring at him, he had started to notice her, too. What he had also noticed? How his views and opinions slowly started to fade and change. He often hated the universe for making her a Mudblood or being born to a family of no importance. If only things could have been different, who knows, maybe he could have pursued her. If only his family hadn't been tied so closely to the Dark Lord, maybe he could've gotten away with doing whatever he wanted to do. Then again, if he failed to succeed in killing Dumbledore, the Dark Lord would have his head, so maybe he should just take the plunge.

Her words hung in the air and the silence that followed was only interrupted by the second banging of the Clock, signalling that everyone had to be in their classrooms now. The girl in front of him let out a frustrated groan at the realisation she would have to miss her Herbology exam now that she was still stuck.

“What?”

“I’ll miss my Herbology exam.”

Draco sniffed his nose, thinking there were worse things to miss out on.

“Okay- you might think of it as unimportant and stupid, seeing as with one little wag of his finger, your father will have changed all your grades, but I actually have to work hard for my grades.”

Draco’s head whipped hear way, but he stayed quiet. Had anyone else talked to him this way, he would have lost it. But he could only stare at the girl, stunned. He realised that she saw him just like everyone else— like a spoiled and entitled brat.

Y/N kept still, realising her mistake when she saw the conflict and pain in the boy’s eyes.

After a few seconds, Draco opened his mouth, “It’s not like that at all, if you must know. My father would actually have my head if I only had bad grades. But I can’t blame you for not knowing that, we don’t know each other, remember?” He spoke slowly, immediately balling his fists afterwards to conceal the anger still left in him, the anger he definitely did not want to throw at her again.

Draco stood back up to throw his fists against the door instead, in hopes that someone would hear him.

“Hey! Let me out or you will hear from my father!” His lips sneered and Y/N was caught off guard by how quickly his demeanour could change. Just now, when he had been talking to her, he had turned so silent and soft, almost understanding, something she had never seen him do before. She had brought that side out of him, but now he was back to being that same brash Malfoy boy that everyone knew— and hated.

Y/N sighed and threw her head in her hands, making Draco look at her. Of course, this was pure torture for the girl, to be trapped in a closet with him. And after all that his words had ruined in the mere span of five minutes, who could blame her?

“Can’t stand the thought of being anywhere near me? Do you want to get out of this closet so badly? I can't get out of it, or I would've. If only just to ease your nerves.” He teased, testing the waters, then realised why the girl next to him grinned softly.

“Oi, you know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Do you find the closet comfortable then?”

“Only this one, with this company.” He said it with a laugh as a smirk slipped past his lips, surprising even himself.

Y/N’s face flushed a bright red once more and this time Draco found his stomach tickling after witnessing it. He stared at her face again, long, then right into her eyes. He felt himself smiling once more. He cleared his throat, not wanting to dive in deeper, for now.

“So, um, Herbology then, yes?”

“What about it?”

“Is that your favourite subject?”

Y/N sat back once more and looked at him only to see the boy was being genuine, trying to make some smalltalk. She grinned.

“One of my favourites, yes. Although it’s hard to pick a favourite when you’re a student at a Wizarding School and didn’t grow up with it all. I want to indulge as much as I can.”

Draco nodded, realising the girl was hinting at her Muggleborn status.

“So what’s the muggle world like?” He asked after thinking hard and long of a question, finding himself ridiculous for being so nervous about her reaction, “How much does it really differ from ours?”

He knew he had asked the right question when he saw her face light up with glee, “Well, for starters, we don’t use apparition or the floo network, so travelling takes longer. When we have to get something, we can’t use Accio and-”

He smiled at her, truly smiled, as he listened to her passionately talk about her life back home. He gave himself a small pat of victory for getting the girl from looking at the ground to looking into his eyes, to making her feel comfortable enough to share something so personal.

He answered the questions she asked in return and found himself enjoying her company immensely. The conversation flowed naturally, but it came to an abrupt stop when the door suddenly opened swiftly.

Professor Snape stood before them, but the two didn't realise until their eyes finally adjusted to the sudden harsh light. They were filled in horror when they saw their Professor looking down at them, taking them in, glaring into their eyes uncomfortably long. Snape looked between the two, then into the closet, and it doesn’t take a fool to see what assumption he was making. He lifted an eyebrow, once again taking the two squeezed-together teenagers in. Unsure whether to speak up about it, he sneered his lip in abhorrence, gave it another few seconds to ponder over, and then decided to skip the awkward conversation,

“Next time don’t run away when I call you or I’ll leave you there locked for eternity, Malfoy.” He spoke slowly, then quickly paraded away.

The two walked out of the closet, weirded out by the sudden encounter, then turned to each other,

“I hope you won’t get into too much trouble with Sprout,” Draco offered a kind smile, which the girl returned,

“And you with Snape… with whatever it is you did."

Draco nodded, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

“You’re not so bad as they all make you out to be, but I already had a hunch,” Y/N spoke as she adjusted her hair, now aware they’re both in daylight again and not in the dark where she had been able to hide away in the shadows. But Draco didn't care. He took her in once more, and nodded his head pleasingly.

“I’ll see you around.” The girl smiled softly, then turned to walk away until Draco stopped her,

“Same place, same time, next week?”

He joked, realising that having Y/N as company hadn’t been so bad. To be quite frank, he was already looking forward to seeing her again.

461 notes View Post

bakersbucky

1 year ago

LOVED THIS OMGGG

ミ the mightiest

part 1 | part 2

🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader 🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

notes: okay i had to split this into two parts because it surpassed the tumblr word limit 🙃 here’s part 1, and I’ll post part 2 in a day or two!

adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!

The tsahìk’s hut is cool and dark, offering a much needed reprieve from the hot balmy air of the day outside. It’s been a quiet day for you, though you can’t complain about that; it’s a pleasant change of pace from the usual hectic rush of people that usually pass through.

It’s one of the rare days that Mo’at has left you to tend to the duties of the healing hut alone; it had taken years to reach this level of trust with her, and you find yourself almost deliriously proud to be able to help out. Na’vi medicinal practices are very different to human ones, but your training in first-aid has given you enough knowledge and experience to hold your own when it comes to helping out with the smaller day-to-day ailments that tend to pass through the healing hut.

Besides, you’re always happy to give Mo’at a break. She had claimed that she needed time to commune with Eywa, though secretly you suspect that she just likes to take some time to herself in her old age. But that’s fine – you’ve always found helping out in the healing hut soothing, and your heart swells at the fact that Mo’at trusts you enough to leave you in charge, even if it’s only for a few hours.

It also helps when your patient is a big, hunky alien warrior with more muscles than brains, who sits in front of you as you smear a herbal paste over the scratches he had gotten in training earlier that day.

Txeyto is not an easy patient; he flinches when you prod his wounds, whines when you clean them, and complains as you smear the paste on his scrapes. It’s a little irritating, but the sight of his big broad shoulders and chiselled abdomen is enough to soothe the worst of your aggravation.

“Are you nearly finished?” Txeyto complains, flinching away from your fingers once more.

You bite your tongue and force a smile. Patience has never been your strong suit, and Txeyto is certainly testing the short reserves you have left. But he’s very handsome, and very skilled at archery, and you feel that his physical attractiveness outweighs the minor personality flaws.

“Yes, just another few moments.” You murmur, keeping your voice low and soothing as though speaking to a child.

Txeyto settles a little when you use the baby voice on him, and you struggle to keep your face blank at the ridiculousness of it all. Men are such children, even the big strong Na’vi warriors that should be above such behaviour. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

“How did you get these injuries, hm?” You ask, using a light touch to dab some of Mo’at’s specially formulated healing paste onto his scrapes. You keep your fingers as gentle as possible, but Txetyo still winces dramatically.

He perks up at your question, his tails swaying low over the floor where you’re both sat cross-legged. “I have been training very hard. I am one of the best archers in the village now.”

“No doubt.” You murmur distractedly as you work.

“But it is important for a tsamsiyu to be competent in many forms of combat, so I must practice my hand-to-hand combat also,” Txetyo continues, apparently forgetting to wince now that he’s talking. “Neteyam has been helping me train.”

Ah. You can’t help the face you make at that, and you’re thankful that Txeyto’s back is facing you so that he can’t see your expression. You also can’t help the way you cast a quick glance towards the entrance to the hut, as though worried that simply speaking the name aloud will summon Toruk Makto’s eldest son.

“Is that right?” You say, keeping your tone carefully neutral. “So, he’s the one that got you all scraped up like this?”

Txetyo’s shoulders flex under your hands, and you realise without looking at his face that you’ve stung his pride.

“I scraped him up also.” He grumbles, shifting to try and peer over his shoulder. “They are wounds to be proud of, as I got them in combat.”

You don’t think that a couple of minor scratches from wrestling around in the mud with one of the village’s biggest dickheads count as combat wounds, but you don’t argue. You just hum non-committedly, paying more attention to his bruises than is entirely necessary.

“You should be careful,” You say instead, running your fingers carefully over one of the bruises discolouring the pretty blue skin of his defined bicep. “It’s a shame to see these lovely muscles all bruised up.”

There’s a long moment’s pause. It seems as though the cogs in Txetyo’s head are working slowly, because he seems to be struggling to understand your flirty tone of voice. But when it finally seems to click, he turns his head to peer at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Ah,” He says, his shoulders squaring as he seems to preen. “You like them?”

God, he really is a little dumb. But that’s okay. You don’t necessarily need a man with brains.

“Mhmm,” You hum, allowing your hand to rest on the bulge of his bicep. “I like strong men.”

That’s true, if a little bit of an oversimplification. You’ve lived as a human on Pandora your whole life, but it was only in recent years since you’ve reached adulthood that you’ve started really paying attention to the people around you. And good lord, you had some impressive specimens to look at.

You find yourself drawn to their athletic and toned bodies, their radiant blue skin, their cat-like grace and agility. Maybe it’s because you had grown up on Pandora with no humans your age other than Spider, but you find yourself especially drawn to your size. The sheer size of their hands alone are enough to fluster you, especially when your brain is flooded with images of those big hands in other contexts.

And luckily for you, there’s no shortage of Na’vi that are interested in experimenting with humans, too.

Txetyo visibly perks up, his ears twitching forward as he finally seems to notice the way your much smaller hands are lingering on his body as you patch him up.

“I am very strong.” He says, tail thumping against the ground.

You fight the urge to sigh. He’ll never make a great conversationalist, but that’s alright. He’s big and strong and handsome, and you just want to relieve some tension.

“I know.” You murmur, your lips quirking a little as you shuffle around so that you’re kneeling in front of him, your knees pressed close to his thighs. “But I could still kiss your scratches better, if you’d like.”

Kissing wounds better is definitely a human colloquialism that Txetyo doesn’t understand, judging by the furrow of his brow, but he doesn’t seem to care. He reaches out and wraps a big hand around your waist, and you feel a pulse of arousal low in your belly in response.

“You like my muscles so much that treating my wounds has aroused you?” He asks, the smugness in his voice impossible to miss.

His pompousness is a little irritating, but you can ignore that because his hands are big and warm and it’s exciting to feel his palm start to push its way under your cotton tank top. The few Na’vi men you’ve been with before had been absolutely fascinated with the soft squishiness of your human breasts, so your breath hitches in anticipation as his hand reaches up to grope at your tits over your bra.

Okay, you can probably admit that you’re a little pent up. It’s probably a terrible idea to allow Txetyo to feel you up like this in the middle of the healing hut, but you’re horny.

If you’re telling the truth, you’ve been hoping for a chance like this all week – but there’s one thing, one irritation, that has been preventing you by interrupting every damn chance you’ve gotten alone with any man.

In fact, you’ve been interrupted so often and so many times that you’re almost expecting it, even as Txetyo’s big hands squeeze at your tits. He’s a little rough with it, but he’s so much bigger than you that you suppose that’s unavoidable – besides, his strength only adds to the thrill.

Then, just like clockwork, as though there’s some kind of sensor that goes off whenever you’re about to get some, there’s a rustling sound by the entrance of the hut before the little woven drape covering the doorway is pulled back.

And then, who else would be standing there, but Neteyam. One of the few people on the whole planet that can actually ruin your whole day just by showing his stupid face.

His eyes find you, but his expression doesn’t change as he glances over your flustered expression and the hand that Txetyo still has shoved up your top. He tilts his head, and it feels as though he’s examining every damn detail all at once; the ointment smeared all over Txetyo’s bruises from training, the way you’ve shuffled so close to Txetyo that you’re practically straddling his thigh, your unsteady breathing behind your mask.

“Ah. Am I interrupting?” He asks with a hint of wry humour to his voice, as though he hasn’t interrupted every attempt at getting laid you’ve made this month.

It has to be on purpose. That, or he has some sort of nearly supernatural sense for when you’re horny, because he always seems to show up every goddamned time. Somehow it’s gotten worse in the last few weeks, too. You’ve barely been able to get a moment alone with whoever you’ve been chatting up before Neteyam has appeared, snapping at them to get back to training or duties or whatever lousy excuse he’s been able to come up with in the moment.

“What do you want?” You snap, impatient and too strung tight to waste your energy on pretending at politeness.

A very delayed reaction finally hits Txetyo, and he scrambles to remove his hand from the inside of your top. His hand alone is so large that the outline of it is painfully obvious even through your shirt, and you close your eyes with a sigh as he clumsily pushes himself away from you in a rather ungainly attempt at pretending nothing was going on.

“Neteyam!” He blurts, his ears flattening against his skull. He’s clearly mortified at being caught in such a position by Toruk Makto’s son, and he overcompensates by attempting to scoot away as though he hadn’t even been touching you.

You try not to roll your eyes – you’re used to this, after all. You’ve been with several Na’vi men, but they all seem to have the same sort of embarrassment about actually being open with the fact that they’ve hooked up with you. You can’t be all that annoyed about it, you suppose. You understand where it’s coming from. You’ve been around the Omaticaya your whole life, and while the taboo of having Sky People around has faded somewhat, that doesn’t mean that anyone is actually willing to admit that they’ve been with you.

You’re used to it. It’s fine. You’re just a little mortified that Neteyam is currently witnessing the scramble for Txetyo to get away from you.

He’s watching the other man with his head still tilted to the side, his big golden eyes dark in the cool shade of the hut. A muscle in his jaw is flexing, like he’s trying not to laugh.

“I will- I will see you later?” Txetyo whispers to you as he stands. He probably intended for his voice to be low enough that it stayed between just you and him, but the hut is quiet enough that there’s no doubt Neteyam can hear him just fine.

“Mhm. Yeah.” You murmur back, watching Txetyo’s big broad back as he steps away from you, all hasty and flustered.

Txetyo gets as far as Neteyam, who’s still standing with his arms crossed in the doorway. Neteyam doesn’t so much as shift, his eyes dragging with lazy satisfaction over the myriad of scrapes and bruises that he had left on Txetyo during their sparring earlier.

Txetyo shifts on his feet, visibly nervous in the face of his future chief’s judgement. “Ah… Will we train again tomorrow, Neteyam?”

Neteyam hums non-committedly, before finally stepping away from the doorway. He brushes past Txetyo, and you wonder if he’s always so dismissive of his fellow warriors or if he’s just being an even bigger dickhead today for some reason.

“We will see.” Neteyam says shortly, though he’s not even looking Txetyo’s way.

Taking that as the dismissal it so clearly is, Txetyo nods awkwardly before disappearing out of the hut, leaving you and Neteyam alone.

For a long moment, you do your best to avoid looking up. You’re beyond irritated right now, made so much worse by the fact that your panties are kind of wet and you’re so fucking desperate for attention right now. The little wooden bowls knock together clumsily as you try to arrange them without looking up, but it becomes difficult when Neteyam lowers himself down to sit opposite you.

“The tsahìk’s hut is a bold place for such activities.” He says, and you don’t have to look up to know that there’s a stupid smug look on his face. “What would my grandmother think?”

As he sits down, he places a woven bag by your knee. You don’t need to look at it to know what it is; he’s always bringing stuff to the healing hut for his grandmother. Herbs or medicinal plants, fibres for weaving bandages, even animal bones that he had whittled down for needles for suturing.

Even you can grudgingly admit it’s thoughtful; but he only ever seems to bring it when you’re around. It’s like he just wants to rub it in your face that he excels at everything he does – it’s extremely annoying.

You finally look up, your face already scrunched in a scowl. “What do you want?”

He raises his hairless brows at you, an expression he no doubt learned from his father. “I would like my cuts from training treated. What else would I be here for?”

And now you know that he’s just messing with you, because while Txetyo was covered in bruises and abrasions from his tough training session earlier, Neteyam doesn’t have a single visible scratch.

“What exactly am I supposed to treat?” You ask, voice tight.

Neteyam shifts, proffering you his shoulder, and you see a single scrape along his otherwise flawless striped blue skin. You purse your lips, staring at it in mild disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.” You say, deadpan.

But it’s clear that Neteyam is serious, because he’s already stretching out on the comfy woven rugs of his grandmother’s hut as if he belongs there. It’s obvious that he has no intention of moving – he must have come here just to torture you.

You blow out a frustrated breath, the inside of your respirator mask fogging up briefly before rapidly clearing. Neteyam is infuriating. He gets under your skin in a way that no one else does, as though he knows every goddamn little button to press just to aggravate you.

Maybe it’s just a by-product of having been raised as next in line to lead the Omaticaya, or of being Toruk Makto’s oldest son, but you’ve always found Neteyam closed off and distant.

Truthfully, you can’t say for certain if he’s always been this way. When you were young teenagers, you hadn’t had much contact with him; he was always busy with his own training, and then the whole Sully family had left for Awa’atlu. When they had returned, several years later, Neteyam had been more reserved, and yet somehow even cockier and more confident than ever.

“I don’t understand you. There’s no need for you to get this scrape seen to, and you know it. You just like wasting my time.”

He just watches you as you complain, his eyes hooded and dark in a way that honestly leaves you a little heated. He doesn’t deny it, which only irritates you further. You knew he was just trying to annoy you!

“It’s your job to treat wounds when you’re here, isn’t it?” He asks, and you can see the way his tail is lazily undulating behind him, skimming across the woven carpet. He’s enjoying arguing with you.

You huff out a put-upon sigh, before grabbing two of the jars. The ointment is naturally antiseptic but it goes on with quite a sting; you try not to feel satisfied about that as you coat your fingers in it before dabbing it onto the scrape on Neteyam’s shoulder. You’re not as gentle as you’d usually be either, your patience is too thin for you to be considerate with him right now.

But this is not Txetyo. This is Neteyam, and he doesn’t so much as flinch as you rub the paste over his still sluggishly bleeding scratch, even though you know it must sting. You try not to feel irked by his stoicism.

As you work, Neteyam’s head rolls back. In a move that’s almost imperceptible, his nostrils flare and he scents the air. You assume it’s the fairly astringent scent of the herbal paste you’ve just pulled out that’s bothering him, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Problem?”

His lips quirk, though he manages to keep his expression neutral. “No. I am simply enjoying being under your tender care.”

You narrow your eyes at him. He’s mocking you now.

The fact that he had walked in on Txetyo’s hand up your top as he groped at your tits feels like a heavy unspoken weight in between you as you dab at his minor wound. You keep waiting for him to bring it up, to laugh at you for it, but he remains stubbornly quiet as you work, his golden eyes watching you in quiet contemplation.

In fact, he’s never brought up any of the times he’s interrupted you right before you got with someone. He’s caught you in varying levels of undress, with Na’vi men over you, under you, holding you, touching you, kissing you, but somehow just before anything good actually happened. Every time the men had scrambled away from you as though you were something diseased, mortified at being caught with a tawtute by Neteyam, a man that (for some reason you can’t comprehend) they seem to have an awful lot of respect for.

In the beginning, you were inclined to come up with excuses for him; he was Jake Sully’s oldest son, and was inevitably going to keep track of his peers and where they disappeared off to when they had duties that they should be attending to. But now, you think he’s doing it to spite you specifically. It might be a bit of a self-centred thing to believe, but you’re almost certain of it.

You shift on your knees beside him, raising yourself up a little to ensure that you’ve covered all parts of his scrape. You don’t want him returning tomorrow to complain that you didn’t do a good job.

You have to bite back another sigh as you do so, your thighs rubbing together in a way that sends a sharp jolt up your spine. You’re horny and needy and so, so resentful of the fact that you’re now treating the same man that’s the direct cause of your state right now.

Neteyam’s attitude wasn’t the only thing that changed in his time away, however. You have to keep your eyes fixed carefully on his bruising shoulder, because if you didn’t you know that your gaze would wander, and that’s a dangerous game to be playing in the presence of someone as perceptive as Neteyam.

But it’s difficult not to look. Time and ocean air has been kind to him; he’s grown as tall as his father, and whatever sort of training or work he had been doing with the Metkayina has resulted in broader shoulders and a more sturdy build than is typical of the Omaticaya. It’s galling to admit, and makes you feel as though you’ve eaten something sour and unpleasant, but Neteyam is hot as hell.

He might be aggravating and smug and too cocky, but no one in their right mind could deny that he’s attractive. Not even you. Especially you, if you’re being honest with yourself, considering your penchant for enormous blue alien men that could snap you in two with a pinkie if they felt so inclined.

God, you really have to think about something else. You’re so wet that your panties are starting to get uncomfortable, so you focus determinedly on the resentment that’s still simmering over the fact that Neteyam had interrupted what was promising to be a very productive encounter with Txetyo.

Neteyam shuffles a little where he’s sitting in front of you, and your eyes track the way his muscles bunch and shift under his vibrant blue skin. Damn, but seeing Na’vi musculature up close never gets old, even if it’s Neteyam.

You’re almost finished with dabbing paste on the tiny scrape (and you hate to admit that it had taken you longer than it should have due to your distraction), when Neteyam half-turns his head towards you.

“My back is sore, also.” He murmurs, though his eyes remain downcast.

You pause, staring at him. “Okay. And?”

There’s a moment where the two of you just look expectantly at each other. When nothing comes of that, Neteyam speaks again.

“You are playing healer today, are you not?” He asks, and his left ear twitches oddly. “Or is your attention all reserved for Txetyo, hm?”

Your cheeks heat in humiliation and your jaw clenches. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from making some sort of stupid comment.

“Lay down.” You snap, prickly and embarrassed.

“Yes ma’am.” Neteyam purrs, probably all satisfied that he’s gotten under your skin. He reclines, all of those lithe muscles flexing and bunching as he rolls over onto his stomach.

You grab another pot of ointment, and then take a moment to steady yourself.

You know that he’s winding you up on purpose, just like always, but you can never figure out why. He doesn’t treat you like any of the other men in the village do – they might enjoy fucking you, but they’re rarely caught dead in public with you, worried about what it might mean for their own reputations.

Neteyam is bolder, more confident; though the burden of responsibility that he carries is unmistakable, he never seems to get caught up with the petty whispering and musings of the village people. It’s just unfortunate that he seems so set on bothering you.

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes drop mindlessly over the expanse of his long, pretty back. His skin is stretched tight over lithe muscle, little luminescent white freckles glinting like little stars. He looks so smooth, though the flawlessness of his body is marred by thick pale scars that litter his skin, courtesy of the near legendary battle with the RDA that you hear happened off the coast of Awa’atlu.

You glance down, flustered. Fuck. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t physically perfect.

“Problem?” Neteyam’s voice is a little lower in register than it was before, perhaps because he’s lying on his stomach with his head pillowed under his crossed arms.

You twitch. Shit. You had gotten distracted, and had lost yourself staring at him.

“No. Shut up.” You blurt reflexively, dipping your fingers into the oily ointment used for easing sore muscles.

Neteyam huffs quietly, a sound that could be a grunt or a laugh, but doesn’t bother responding. It makes you feel as though you’ve lost a game you didn’t know you were playing.

Antsy and on edge, you lean forward and survey his strong back properly. When he's laying out in front of you like this you can see the way his back is knotted with tension and his shoulders are hiked up around his ears. It doesn't look too bad, but it can't be comfortable either.

You take one more moment to admire the musculature of his shoulders, before gathering yourself and dipping your fingers into the ointment. It's balmy against your fingers and smells a little bit like blueberries, and begins to tingle when your hand is entirely coated.

"Where does it hurt most?" You ask, your voice quiet.

In the silence, you can hear Neteyam’s throat click when he swallows.

"My neck and shoulders." When he speaks, his voice is a little deeper than expected.

The very first touch to Neteyam’s back pulls a quiet sigh out of him; it sounds like relief.

Considering his size, it takes surprisingly little to have him melting under your hands. Your fingers spread under his scapula, finding a knot in the muscle and pressing in hard. It takes a bit of finagling, but after some firm pressure you feel the muscle begin to soften beneath your touch.

Gaining confidence, you return your kneading fingers to his neck. He really is terribly tense, and shivering spasms flit up and down the muscles of his back in regular intervals as you drag the warm palms of your hands over him. As your fingers work into his tense muscles, he lets out quiet little grunts that are muffled by the cradle of his arms.

“Why were you so hard on Txetyo during training?” You ask as your fingers dig into the tense tissue of his back. Your voice is unintentionally loud in the quiet of the hut. “He looked as though he had been attacked by a thanator when he was here earlier.”

Neteyam just grunts. “Txetyo is an overconfident skxawng. He is not nearly as skilled as he thinks he is.”

You click your tongue, dissatisfied with that answer. “I could say the same about you.”

Just like all your attempts to insult him, your words seem to bounce right off him. Stupid thick-skinned bastard. His pretty mouth tilts up in a smile.

“I have the skills to back it up, paskalin.”

Your lips purse at the name, your cheeks hot. God, he’s such an asshole.

When you exert pressure as you run your fingers down his spine, Neteyam grunts softly into his arms. The sound is startling in the quiet, interrupting the steady rhythm of your quiet breathing.

"Does that hurt?" You ask. Your voice comes out a little shakier than you’d like.

"No." Neteyam’s voice comes out in a low, gravelly rumble. The sound of it almost startles you into snatching your hands away, but you manage to refrain yourself. "Keep going."

You just swallow thickly, and try to keep yourself on task. “He just wants to be better. He was excited to train with you–”

“Lower.” Neteyam groans, shifting under your hands.

You clench your teeth. Really, you should probably just walk away from him. There’s no real need for you to be doing any of this. He’s not even injured, and who knows whether he’s telling the truth about his back being tense.

But you’re stupid, and you’ve never been good at walking away, from either fighting or fucking. This strange encounter feels as though it lies somewhere in the middle of those two things. Your palms drag down to his lower back, and he flinches briefly before melting under your touch.

His body is so big that it’s difficult to get a good angle to knead properly at his tense muscles, and before you can think too hard about it you swing your leg over his hips. You settle back, perching your weight cautiously at the base of his spine.

It's a braver move than you would usually make, but you try not to second-guess yourself — like this, you have so much more leverage to rub at the rigid sinews of his back. You drag your knuckles down the length of his spine and he groans into the cradle of his arms.

You try to ignore the excited flutter in your belly. It’s just Neteyam. You’re not actually getting turned on from this; the only reason you’re so affected is because you had been horny with Txetyo. You shift where you’re sitting on his back, but you have to force yourself still almost immediately, because the friction nearly makes your lungs seize.

“Comfortable?” Neteyam murmurs, and you can hear amusement in his voice.

“Shut up.” You say reflexively, before scowling. “I can’t believe you interrupted me and Txetyo just for this. You have, like, one bruise–”

“It’s a very sore bruise.” He murmurs lazily, sounding unbothered. “Do you think squeezing your tits might help? That seemed to help Txetyo feel better.”

You pause, jaw dropping in indignation. “I– shut up!”

Neteyam makes a noise that sounds like a snicker, and you dig your fingers down the planes of his back vengefully. His waist narrows into an elegant taper, and when you reach the part of his back where his ass begins to swell, you exert firm pressure against the base of his tail.

If you had done it to a human, you know it would have hurt. But instead the tightness of the muscle unfurls under your fingers, and Neteyam gives a long, low groan. The sound is delightfully gravelly, and you take a breath as you feel molten heat ooze down into your belly and settle between your legs. It’s not a reaction you had been expecting.

You sit back onto his lower back, avoiding his tail. From here, you have a truly captivating view of how slick his back looks from the ointment, and how his skin glows in the dim light of the hut. His body really is perfect, and your eyes track over the taut shiny scars that litter his skin.

“Mmm. May I get up? Or do you want to sit on me a little while longer?” Neteyam’s low voice breaks you out of your stupor, and you’re horrified to find that you’ve just been sitting there with your wet panties pressed against his back beneath your thin shorts.

You scramble off him quickly, flustered and clumsy. It had been a bold move to straddle him in the first place, and now you feel very stupid about it.

“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You blurt, just to say something into the silence.

“Why are we still talking about Txetyo?” Neteyam has always been a relatively tolerant and even-keeled man, but you can hear irritation beginning to bubble up in his voice.

“Because–” You start to say, but then Neteyam rolls over so that he’s laying on his back.

Now that he's lying on his back, stretched out all long and lithe, your eyes rove over his face and then down his throat, his chest, his stomach, his hips. Your eyes catch on the protrusion between his legs and stick there, your mouth dropping open in surprise when you see that his loincloth is tented.

“Because- he… you were too–” You try valiantly to finish your sentence, but your thoughts have scattered to the wind.

He’s hard. Why the fuck is he hard? Is that just from you rubbing his back? Oh my god, what are you supposed to say? It feels like his hard-on is staring at you.

Neteyam pushes himself up into a sitting position, his hands planted on the woven rug behind him as he pushes himself up so that he’s sitting looming over you. Once he’s upright, Neteyam flexes his shoulders and groans slightly as he goes. It doesn't sound like a pained groan, thankfully.

The movement brings him closer to you than you had been expecting, and you end up freezing. Like this, you can see the way his expression has smoothed into one of relief. His shoulders are looser too, no longer held bunched up around his neck.

Neteyam doesn't seem to notice your close proximity, nor the way you have tensed at the lack of space between them. You’re not touching, but you’re so close that you swear you can physically feel the air between you.

“If Txetyo is so upset about being beaten by me in training, then he should focus on getting better instead of slinking away with his tail between his legs and trying to screw you in a corner of my grandmother’s hut.”

You gape at him like an absolute idiot, floored by the acerbity in his tone. You’ve always thought Neteyam was a bit of a dickhead, but that was mostly because of his nearly insufferable need to always be the best. Always the best warrior, the best son, the best brother, the best future Olo’eyktan. The best role model to his peers.

“So that’s what this is about.” You say, your voice coming out distinctly accusatory. “You don’t like that your friends are fucking a human, is that it?”

Neteyam doesn’t even bother answering. He just rolls his now loosened shoulders and watches you carefully. He doesn't tell you to back off, or wrinkle his nose at you, or act as though he's repulsed by you. He just stares at you across the miniscule space between you, and that only angers you further.

“Is that why you keep interrupting whenever I’m with any of the other tsamsiyu?” You demand, fists clenching. “What, you don’t like that your friends find a tawtute attractive? Is that why you keep cockblocking me?”

Neteyam huffs a quiet snort, as though he thinks you’re being stupid.

“I hear what some of the Na’vi in the village say, about how it’s shameful to be with a tawtute.” You hiss. “I just didn’t think you’d be one of them.”

And if you’re honest with yourself, it sort of hurts. Neteyam has always gotten on your nerves with his confusing mix of overconfidence and jagged insecurities, and he had really infuriated you when he had started to interrupt all of those illicit little meetups you had planned with some of the boys in the village, but you hadn’t actually thought that he had any disdain for you like some of the other Na’vi.

And then you do something so stupid that it shocks even you.

Your eyes drop back down to the tent in his tewng, eyeing it thoughtfully, before reaching out and running your fingers over the hardened outline of his cock through the fabric with purpose.

Neteyam hisses, and his hips actually lift off the floor in an attempt to follow your touch.

“God, you’re a hypocrite, aren’t you?” You breathe, fighting to keep your voice casual. “How can you judge your friends for fucking around with me when you’re this hard after just a backrub?”

“They’re not my friends.” Neteyam grunts, his jaw clenching as his head tilts back. His hips rock into your hand.

Your touch goes firmer, and then your hand slips under his loincloth. You’ve had plenty of sexual encounters with Na’vi men, but this is different.

This is Neteyam. This encounter feels like proving a point. A very sexually charged point.

His cock is silky smooth and hot to the touch, and you feel a little drunk as your fingers close around it. And damn, it feels big. All Na’vi cocks are big compared to your hands, but this… feels different. You were aroused anyway, you’ve been feeling pent up all damn week, but now that your hand is on his dick your nerves are fizzing up.

It’s a surprise when Neteyam’s big hand settles on your waist to tug you closer, and you feel your stomach swoop when he pulls you forward. You don’t release his cock even as he pulls you to settle over one of his thighs, your legs slotted in between his, and you can feel him harden even further beneath you.

You wonder absently if it's really you that's causing his very obvious arousal or if it's just a natural consequence of the massage; either way, when his hips flex up towards you, they press right in between your legs.

You shiver almost violently, the sensation of him pressing hot and hard against your core frying your nerves and wiping your thoughts clean. The part of your brain that had been screaming about what a bad idea this whole thing is has become muffled now, and your own hips jerk against his.

“You’re such an asshole,” You say, though your voice comes out reedy and breathless. “You of all people don’t have a right to talk shit about those guys just cause they’re into humans, especially when your cock is this hard, and especially considering where your dad came from–”

He lets out a soft, quiet noise as you move against him, and uses his grip on the back of your top to pull you tighter against him yet again. “Don’t talk about my father when you have my cock in your hand.”

It takes what feels like a monumental effort to wrench your hand away from him, and he lets out a wordless grunt of dissatisfaction as his hips twitch in an effort to follow your hand. It’s delightfully pathetic, and you feel your ego swell at the sheer sense of power that washes over you; it’s a rare feeling, especially when you’re faced with a big blue alien almost twice your size.

“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You sound like an out of breath idiot. “It’s not like you can judge him for being with a tawtute when you’re that hard from me just touching you.”

Neteyam just stares at you, his jaw clenching and his honey eyes dark as he takes several breaths through his nose. You’ve never seen him like this before; you’ve never seen any of the men you’ve been with like this before. It looks as though he’s holding onto a thin veneer of control, and you wonder if he’s angry with you, if you’ve perhaps pushed him too far.

“That was never the issue.” He says and fuck, his voice has gone so gravelly. “And don’t pretend that you’re not wet beneath those clothes of yours. I can smell it.”

Your thighs squeeze together as you swallow hard, struggling to maintain your aura of indifference and no doubt failing.

“That’s because of Txetyo.” You say, and it tastes like a lie on your tongue. “You interrupted us.”

Neteyam laughs quietly and humourlessly. His expression suggests that he doesn’t find anything about this conversation funny, and his hand is still splayed across your back. You’re so damn conscious of how big his palm is as it spreads across your spine. Why the hell hasn’t he let go of you yet?

“Ah, I see.” Neteyam murmurs. “You would have fucked him in my grandmother’s hut?”

Your mouth is so damn dry, and you swallow compulsively. “It’s not any of your business who I fuck.”

Neteyam’s smile is grim. “Txetyo would fuck his own shadow if he were nimble enough to catch it. You have terrible taste in men.”

You rear back. You’re surprised by how much that hurts. Living as a human on Pandora is lonely, and it’s not like you have people lining up outside the human outpost looking to spend time with you. If you want any sort of companionship or intimacy, you have to accept any attention that you can get. And sure, most of that attention comes from men that only want to get their dicks wet, or the experience of being with a tawtute, but it’s better than nothing at all.

“Well, we can’t all be the Olo’eyktan’s son.” You say, your voice stiff and cold. “We don’t all have countless suitors throwing themselves at our feet. Some of us have to accept attention from whoever’s interested.”

Neteyam’s expression shifts, an odd look appearing in his eyes, and your stomach swoops. You don’t think you could bear to see pity in his eyes, so you pull away from him, shaking his hands off.

“Your scratch is fine.” You say, your voice thin and a little thready. “You’re all treated.

“Hey–”

As you stumble to your feet, Neteyam reaches out as if to stop you. You dodge his hands, unable to look him in the eye.

Panic is starting to set in now; what had you been thinking, touching him like that just after he had chided you for flirting with Txetyo in the tsahìk’s hut? God, you feel like such an idiot. He must think you’re so pathetic.

Like a coward, you turn on your heel and flee out of the hut. You need air, you need to be out of the cool darkness of the hut, you need to be away from the overwhelming weight of Neteyam’s presence. Through the blood rushing in your ears you can distantly hear Neteyam call to you, but you’re too desperate to escape from the whole humiliating interaction to stop and listen.

You stagger out of the hut, squinting at the evening light; it seems blinding after spending all day in the dim musty air of Mo’at’s healing hut. You pat at your rumpled shirt and creased denim shorts, flustered and frenzied as you try to straighten yourself out.

“Tawtute?”

You jerk, gasping, and whirl to find that Txetyo is sitting on a log a few feet away from the hut, apparently waiting for you to finish up with Neteyam. You feel like you’re burning up from a mixture of mortification and confused arousal and you’re certain that Neteyam is about to follow you out.

“I– I have to go!” You blurt, already stepping back towards the forest.

Txetyo frowns, obviously bewildered, but he doesn’t stand. “Don’t you want to–”

You don’t wait for him to finish. You’re already fleeing, disappearing into the trees as you run the whole way home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

It might be a little cowardly, but you avoid the village for days after that.

You stick to the outpost, watching Norm and Max and the other scientists work. You try not to die of boredom, and you try not to overthink and overthink and overthink.

But you have too much time on your hands as you slink around the outpost, and you can’t stop feeling guilty about abandoning your attempts to help Mo’at out in her healing hut.

You also can’t stop thinking about the shift of Neteyam’s muscles in the low dim light, or the silky hot feel of his cock in your hand, or the soft breathy grunts he had let out as his hips rocked. It feels like the experience has actually rewired your brain, as though you’ll never recover from it.

Growing up on Pandora as a human has been lonely. The only other human your age is Spider, who had become the closest thing you have to a brother – and you love him even when you feel like throttling him, but sometimes you just yearn for more.

You want companionship, you want understanding, you want romance, you want sexual intimacy. You don’t think it’s too much to ask for, and if you have to turn to big nine-feet-tall Na’vi warriors who just want to say they’ve had the experience of sleeping with a tawtute, then that’s… fine. Even if it’s only temporary.

Part of you is honestly relieved when Spider finally manages to force you out of the outpost and back to the village. It’s a relief to get back into the forest, to the village, to the life you’re used to. The outpost has nothing on the vibrancy of the village life, and you feel as though you can breathe for the first time in days upon stepping back into the village, even if it’s through your respirator mask.

There’s been a big hunt today, and the village is buzzing with excitement. You pass by several willowy Na’vi covered in celebratory paint, and follow the sound of the heavy thumping of drums.

The evening after a hunt is always a joyful affair, and you gradually start to relax throughout the night. You feast on collected fruit, hum along to some of the music, and sit comfortably with Spider all evening. At some point you’re joined by Lo’ak, which you don’t mind either; Lo’ak has always been the kind of outcast that fits comfortably between the edges of you and Spider. Those edges have smoothed out as he got older, but he’s always been a cool guy to hang out with.

When he’s not joining Spider in ganging up on you, that is.

“So– so wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Lo’ak is waving his hands as though trying to settle down a group of rowdy children, even though it’s just the three of you present. “Neteyam walked in on you fucking again, but this time it was in grandmother’s hut–”

You’re sat around the large campfire in the middle of the village, tucked away from the main celebrations. Part of you is flourishing being in this environment again, but another part is withering at this damn conversation. You glance around nervously, hoping that no casual observers can hear you guys talking.

“Txetyo only had his hand up my top!” You hiss hastily. “We weren’t actually– and we would have gone somewhere else when it came down to it!”

“Txetyo is a dickhead.” Spider complains, leaning heavily on your side. He’s so frequently dwarfed by the Na’vi that it’s easy to forget that he’s over six-feet-tall and corded with muscle, and his bulk is heavy.

Irritatingly, Lo’ak leans into you the same way on the other side, though he’s more careful about leaning his full weight, and you end up crushed in between the two idiots.

“He isn’t.” You protest, pushing back against their weight. “He’s–”

“Nah, he is.” Lo’ak interrupts before you can defend him. “Total skxawng. You know he keeps telling people he’s the best archer in the clan? And yet he didn’t manage to catch anything in today’s hunt–”

You try not to wince at that. It’s impossible to miss that while Txetyo may not have been successful in the hunt today, someone else is being lauded for their skill and success.

Neteyam has been given a place of honour by the fire next to his parents, and the careful swirls of paint all over his body can’t hide the proud glow on his face. Under the smooth veneer of Neteyam’s smiles and cheer was the jagged edge of his inferiority complex, his need to always be better and to be liked. Funnily enough, his insecurity has always been your favourite part of him. It felt real in a way his cockiness didn’t.

You can’t stop yourself from glancing over. Night has already fallen and there are many couples dancing, the flickering firelight sending wild shadows across the gathering. But even in the unsteady light, you catch the intense golden stare of Neteyam watching you from across the circle.

You hastily turn your face away, pressing your lips together tight as you try to pretend like you hadn’t been looking in the first place.

“–He’s better than Art’alak, at least.” Spider says, continuing on the conversation that you had checked out of for a few moments. “That guy was awful. I mean, what did you even see in him?”

You roll your eyes, sinking further back into the stupidly heavy weight of Spider and Lo’ak in a silly attempt to hide yourself from view. It almost definitely doesn’t work, and you can still feel the weight of Neteyam’s stare on you, even as you fixedly ignore him.

“Pretty sure we don’t want the answer to that one, man.” Lo’ak says, snickering.

His eyes glance around, before flashing across the gathering as though he can also feel Neteyam’s attention. You frown as Lo’ak hastily removes his arm from around your shoulders, even leaning away from you a little.

“I’m allowed to want company.” You say loftily, though you’re certain that your voice is a little shaky.

It feels like your skin is heating up under Neteyam’s eyes, and you feel yourself getting shifty. Why won’t he just look away?

Lo’ak obviously notices his brother’s attention, because he leans a little closer so he can speak quietly in your ear.

“My brother can be unbearable,” Lo’ak murmurs, “But he’s not a bad guy.”

“Gross.” You wrinkle your nose playfully at Lo’ak’s rare display of sincerity about his brother and he hisses at you, swiping at your head.

It’s all in jest, which is obvious given how gentle his hands are with you, and you laugh and lean away.

“I just– I don’t understand him.” You sigh once your laughter has tapered off. “I mean, I get that he doesn’t approve of the whole interspecies thing, but it’s like he goes out of his way to catch me in embarrassing situations. If he finds it gross, why seek it out?”

Lo’ak purses his lips and avoids your eyes. “Uh…”

“Anytime he shows up, the guys I’m with go running.” You continue, your brows knitting into a frown. “I mean, it’s getting ridiculous. Why can’t he just mind his own business?”

Lo’ak’s eyes dart over your head, and you just know that he and Spider are sharing a look together.

“He doesn’t– I wouldn’t say he disapproves of interspecies relationships–” Lo’ak says, but he fumbles a little in his attempt to get his words out and darts another panicked glance across the fire towards where Neteyam is sitting with their father.

You just scoff, crossing your arms defensively across your chest. You feel a little vulnerable talking about this; usually, you’re content to suffer through the embarrassment of having your sex partners pretending they don’t know you in public alone, but since Neteyam had started walking in on you, now he knows that they’re doing it too.

“He scolds them like they’re children whenever he walks in on us, talking about how they’re neglecting their duties and all that,” You mutter, scowling. “But it’s obviously because he’s annoyed that his friends are messing around with a Sky Person.”

Spider shifts at your side, making an odd sound beneath his breath. You turn to look at him, but he’s staring rather fixedly at a tree branch overhead. Lo’ak clears his throat, similarly looking off to the side to avoid your eyes.

You frown. It feels as though they’re hiding something from you, and the thought is unsettling.

“What?” You demand, sitting forward and staring intently at them.

“Nothing,” Lo’ak protests, but his voice is a little too high-pitched to be believable. “Uh… It’s just… well, I really don’t think that Neteyam has a problem with interspecies relationships. Our dad came from the Sky, too!”

You think that Lo’ak probably intended for that to be reassuring, but instead you find your stomach sinking miserably.

“Oh.” You say, pursing your lips. “So it’s me that he has a problem with.”

“No!” Lo’ak protests, but then he pauses. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to form a response under the weight of your narrowed eyes.

When no explanation comes, you end up just averting your gaze and looking towards the fire. It’s stupid, but you’re not sure what you were even expecting. Neteyam has always been perfect in his personal life, his duties, his relationships within the clan, his looks. It’s hardly a surprise that he’s developed a distaste for you – you know what Sky People represent to the Na’vi, after all.

Across the gathering, two Na’vi girls are shooting looks at Spider. You almost think they’re looking at him in disgust, but when Spider catches their eye and smiles back they both look away giggling.

You click your tongue and roll your eyes. You wonder when exactly it was that the Na’vi your age stopped seeing you as human nuisances that haunt the village, and started instead seeing you as people with possible sexual appeal.

“That is just unfair.” You intone dully. “You get Na’vi girls flirting with you from across the campfire, and I get Na’vi boys fucking me in corners and then pretending they don’t know me. And that’s only if I don’t get rudely interrupted by Lo’ak’s asshole brother.”

“Men.” Lo’ak says in a disparaging tone that sounds as though it’s meant to be sympathetic, but it falls short as he’s biting his tongue to keep from laughing. “Maybe you just have bad taste.”

Spider laughs too, though he’s still looking in the Na’vi girls’ direction. There’s a pink flush in his cheeks, and his smile looks distinctly pleased.

“Yeah,” You grumble, sinking down where you’re sitting. “I’m hearing that a lot.”

The conversation moves on then, Lo’ak nudging at Spider over your head and grinning as he recounts the highlights from the hunt earlier that day, but you’re distracted. You hardly even hear a word they say, too busy staring broodingly into the fire.

Luckily, neither Lo’ak nor Spider mind your silence. They’re perfectly content to fill the quiet themselves, chatting and babbling and joking over your head.

You’re drifting, lost in your own thoughts until you hear Lo’ak and Spider go quiet. You glance over to them, only to realise why they’ve stopped talking – Neteyam is walking your way.

You stiffen, eyes narrowing behind your respirator mask as he comes to a stop before you all. He greets his brother and Spider briefly, distractedly, before his big amber eyes settle on you.

All you can do is wait, tensed. You have no idea what he’s going to do or say, but if he says something about that day in the healing hut you might actually scream.

But Neteyam doesn’t immediately say anything. He crouches in front of you, his gaze as measured and even as ever, and proffers a wrapped utumauti leaf to you. For a moment, you just stare at it as though it’s something venomous.

“A portion of yerik meat,” Neteyam clarifies, not even blinking as he watches your face. “From the hunt earlier.”

Oh. Now you see. He’s just showing off, like he always does. He’s always doing things like this, just to show off his skills, his prowess, how strong he is. It’s irritating; everyone already knows how great he is, and he’s already practically revered throughout the village. You don’t know why he keeps trying to flaunt his greatness in front of you, other than the fact that he must love to annoy you.

Spider nudges you in the side, and you reach out to take the wrapped meat from Neteyam’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” You say, a little tersely.

Neteyam just nods, his tail coiling. He watches your face for another moment, and all the unspoken tension between you from the other day seems to swell to unbearable heights. His ears twitch, and then he glances over his shoulder to where his parents are sitting by the fire. They’re watching, which makes you feel itchy and embarrassed.

“I should return.” He says simply, before standing and nodding at you, then Spider and Lo’ak, before straightening up and walking back to his place by Jake, his tail swaying low.

There’s a long moment of silence, where you can feel Lo’ak and Spider staring at you.

“Don’t.” You say sharply when you see Lo’ak’s mouth open, and he closes it with a click.

This feels embarrassing, as though Neteyam is mocking you somehow. It’s not the first time he’s given you food, always making sure to let you know he caught it himself. It’s like he has a damn pathological need to show off his skills, to try and prove himself, to prove that he’s better than anyone else. It’s aggravating, even more so now that Lo’ak has made it clear that it’s you that Neteyam has a problem with.

Eventually, Spider and Lo’ak return to their conversation and you pull back, sitting silently between them. You pull your mask off for a brief moment to nibble at the meat. You’re a little irritated to admit that it’s delicious, and you sit back to lean into Spider’s side as you chew at it sullenly.

You’ve just begun to wonder if this night is a total bust altogether when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You raise your head, surprised to see the sight of Txetyo stepping towards you.

At your side, Spider and Lo’ak share a look before sitting up straighter.

“Tawtute,” Txetyo greets, nodding his head at you. He casts a single cautious look towards Lo’ak, before focusing on you properly.

He is keeping his voice purposely low so that no one else can hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care. This is the most public setting that any man has ever actually approached you in, and you can feel your expression brightening already.

“Hello.” You murmur, smiling sweetly at him. The last time you had seen him had been right after you had fled the tsahik’s hut, right after you had touched Neteyam– and no, you are not thinking about that right now.

“I would like to speak with you.” Txetyo murmurs, his voice low as he darts one more quick look between Lo’ak and Spider before settling on you again.

You brighten. You’re under no illusions about what Txetyo wants to ‘speak’ about, and you can safely assume that there will be little to no talking involved at all.

Yes. A distraction. This is exactly what you need.

“Sure.” You say, your lips curving up in a coy smile as you unfold yourself from where you’ve been sitting between Spider and Lo’ak.

“Uh–” Lo’ak starts to say, but you’re already beginning to step away with Txetyo, who’s beginning to lead you away from the gathering.

Maybe it’s a little impulsive, but you’re feeling reckless tonight. You can still feel Neteyam’s eyes boring into your back as you follow Txetyo towards the treeline, but you determinedly refuse to look. The celebration should be enough of a distraction to keep him busy and away from you for a while so you can finally get laid.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You resist the urge to check the time on your battered old wristwatch as Txetyo slides down your body and repositions himself between your legs.

It feels like such a long time since you’ve hooked up successfully with anyone, with no interruptions, which is probably why you’ve been so affected by all-things-Neteyam recently. You were hoping that this encounter with Txetyo would restore you back to normal, to get rid of all the thoughts of Neteyam’s intense golden stare and pretty face and silken hot cock that are absolutely haunting you.

Yet, so far, the night’s been less than stellar. Txetyo had led you away from the celebrations, and you had to try hard to pretend like you don’t see him looking around compulsively to make sure that no one else has seen him leave with you. You had followed him into the trees, and had brightened up when he took your hand as soon as you were out of sight of the gathering.

Before you knew it, you were on your back on the forest floor with your panties around your ankles and your dress rucked up around your waist as Txetyo loomed over you on his hands and knees.

Txetyo is handsome, and he’s big and strong and he’s not opposed to hooking up with a Sky Person, but he’s not much for conversation and it seems like he’s only really got one thing on his mind. Apparently, your list of criteria might be a little lacking, because Txetyo’s also proving to be woefully bad at sex.

He spreads your legs and buries his face there. You blink at the canopy of glowing foliage overhead, grimacing. Honestly, you’d think that anything tongue-adjacent would feel good against a clit, but that’s just not true. Txetyo seems to have an affinity for moving his tongue rapidly and aimlessly against you, resulting in nothing better than the occasional teasing — definitely by accident.

You shift a little, try to angle your hips so that Txetyo’s mouth is over your clit, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on what you’re attempting to do at all. He just moves his mouth away, jabbing his tongue sort of aimlessly at your left labia.

“Could you– a bit higher–” You say, trying to shift again.

Txetyo’s mouth is rather sloppy against your pussy, but you’re not actually sure what he’s doing down there. He seems to be missing every possible nerve ending that might feel good, which is actually a little bit impressive.

You sigh, and just resign yourself to getting bad head. You let your head thunk back against the mossy forest floor, your legs hanging off of Txetyo’s big shoulders as he hunches between your thighs.

It’s almost imperceptible, but the quiet ‘crack’ of a twig breaking underfoot has your head snapping around in a panic.

Though night has fallen, it’s never truly dark on Pandora. The moss beneath you glows faintly, illuminating the outline of your body as you lay there with Txetyo getting busy between your legs. The trees and foliage around you are similarly phosphorescent, your surroundings all lit up in luminous vibrance.

Pandora’s bioluminescence is beautiful; it also means that you can see Neteyam’s figure all dimly lit up as he leans against the trunk of a tree about fifteen feet away.

Neteyam’s head is cocked to the side as he very obviously takes in the scene before him, his head turning to scan up and down your body. His little luminous freckles are lit up and glowing, and it’s impossible to miss the fact that his golden eyes are fixed on you, so intense that it’s almost breathtaking.

You almost scream. You mean to, but instead you moan, completely by accident, and Txetyo groans between your legs.

You don’t know what to do. You’re gaping at Neteyam, who seems all too content to just watch you, meanwhile Txetyo is totally oblivious. He’s still doing nothing right, but something deep inside you pulses.

Moments later, much to your horror, Neteyam takes a small, tentative step forward. He stands only a few feet away, behind Txetyo and in plain view of you.

Go away! You mouth, staring at him in disbelief.

Neteyam scratches his head, feigning confusion, and then he takes another step forward.

He doesn’t say anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? It’s not the first time he’s walked in on you in a situation like this, but usually by this point he’s started making snarky comments, which in turn makes the men you’re with scramble away from you like you’re diseased.

Your dress is pushed up clumsily around your stomach, exposing your pussy. There’s a man between your legs. You’re in the process of getting fucked and Neteyam is watching, goddammit.

It definitely, absolutely is not hot. And yet… your hips twitch, and your breath hitches.

“That feel good?” Txetyo asks, peering up to grin at you. Your attention is dragged back to him and you blink, dazed.

“Yeah,” You lie. “So good.”

“Mm,” Txetyo hums in satisfaction, slipping two fingers into you. “Good.”

You grunt at the stretch of his thick fingers, breathing deep. His mouth returns, his fingers jabbing kind of aimlessly, but it hardly matters. Your attention is locked on Neteyam, and it’s somehow making Txetyo’s useless attempts feel somewhat invigorating.

“Oh god,” You gasp. You’re so confused. Part of you is still waiting for Neteyam to speak up, to make a sound or to clear his throat. Something. But he just watches on, his pretty eyes dark.

“Mm, so pretty,” Txetyo murmurs from between your legs, still blissfully unaware of your onlooker. “Can I fuck you now, tawtute?”

Despite yourself, you find your eyes darting over to Neteyam. The stupid fucker is still looking, and when he sees that you’ve looked at him his lips quirk. Your whole body flushes deep with heat, and you try to pretend like you aren’t taking direction from him; usually, his appearance would have stopped this entire encounter dead in its tracks. But you’re continuing, and the fact is, you feel as though you need his permission or something.

“Y-yes.” You say.

Neteyam purses his lips, and raises his non-existent brows. Fuck, what does that mean?

“How would you like me to–”

“Just like this.” You blurt. It feels, for some reason, as though you can’t risk Txetyo noticing Neteyam. This is the only way you can see Neteyam without Txetyo noticing him, anyway.

Txetyo shuffles up your body, his bulk dwarfing you. There’s a moment’s struggle as he’s lining himself up against your pussy, groaning low as he pushes into you. The stretch is intense, and a little painful, as always; you never quite get used to the bone-deep satisfaction of that achey biting stretch in your cunt.

The stretch is satisfying, like it always is, but it’s not necessarily special. Txetyo is not as evenly proportioned as he looks, and his cock is smaller than other Na’vi you’ve been with. That is, mostly, a good thing; it means he can fuck you without lube, which you usually have to use to accommodate the shocking stretch of taking a Na’vi cock. It also means that you adjust to having him inside you a little quicker, your muscles easing gradually around the intrusion of his dick.

What is special (or at least unusual) is the fact that Neteyam is still watching. You stare back, maintaining a bewilderingly intense sort of eye contact. Txetyo groans as your cunt clenches down on him, and he lowers his face to bury it in your shoulder; like this, your view of Neteyam is completely unimpeded.

“Ah! You’re so tight,” Txetyo hisses. “This is okay?”

“Yes,” You gasp. “You can move.”

And by God, does Txetyo move. He jerks in and out of you with a complete lack of coordination. You bounce and flop against the luminescent bed of moss beneath you, occasionally throwing a hand over your head to try and anchor yourself to a tree root behind you, just to stay put for a second or two.

Neteyam is undoubtedly amused. He has a hand pressed to his mouth, and the skin around his eyes is scrunched up with mirth. At one point, when Txetyo starts humping into you so desperately that you grunt, wincing, Neteyam doubles over himself completely, laughing silently.

“Oh, oh,” Txetyo groans. “Tawtute, I am going to– you are so tight, so hot inside–"

You smack one of Txetyo’s hands away from where he’d been rubbing determinedly at the side of your vulva. You rub at your clit instead in fast, harsh circles, staring at Neteyam desperately. You don’t actually know what you’re looking for, or what you want him to do… but you want him to do something.

Neteyam reaches down to palm the bulge at the front of his tewng that you hadn’t even noticed until now, and you moan. You rub yourself even faster, attempting to angle your hips in any way that could increase your pleasure from Txetyo. It seems impossible, but you manage to catch one or two good strokes.

“Please, please—!” You gasp, eyes wide as you maintain eye contact with Neteyam over the wide bulk of Txetyo’s shoulders.

Neyeyam moans. It’s low, barely noticeable under Txetyo’s own strangled sounds, but you hear it clearly. Your body seizes up and then you’re coming, gasping high and quick as you drink Neteyam in with your eyes, frozen under Neteyam’s gaze in turn.

“Unnng,” Txetyo grunts as he comes too, thrusting into you through the last shocks of his orgasm.

You barely even blink, your eyes fixed wide open as you tremble, your breaths shaky. Neteyam doesn’t break eye contact either, watching you so damn closely that it feels bizarrely as though he’s watching a show you’re putting on, as though all of this is for him. The worst part is you feel as though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t.

Neteyam silently turns and slips away through the foliage, and Txetyo flops onto the mossy ground beside you moments later, breathing heavily.

“That was good.” Txetyo sighs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You don’t reply, still staring at the place Neteyam had disappeared into the trees. You’re partly unable to believe what just happened and partly turned on beyond belief, just knowing it did.

What the fuck?

Tags

neteyam x reader neteyam x human!reader neteyam x human

4K notes View Post

bakersbucky

1 year ago

lucky

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt finally gets to take out the girl that's been leaving care packages at his door for two months.

warnings: swearing, slight angst, tooth rotting fluff (might need to call your dentist after this one)

word count: 3k

a/n: the highly requested fluffy sequel to care packages. thank you to everyone that requested this. i hope you enjoy your first date with matty. ❤️ as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[part one]

“I hate you, you know that?”

Matt nearly spit out his coffee as he lurched over the conference table slightly, forcing the lukewarm bitter taste down his throat as a wave of incredulous laughter tore through his chest.

“What? Why?”

“Because it isn’t fair. It’s bad enough you’re so goddamn charming, and it’s borderline offensive that you’re like the most attractive dude I’ve ever seen. Not to mention that whole wounded duck routine you’ve got going on that makes all the girls fall at your feet-”

“Foggy, I don’t-”

“-but what’s exceptionally unacceptable is that you somehow managed to find a girl that knows about the horns, and not only didn’t run away, but still agreed to go out with you. Like the fact that you’re a vigilante and a walking human disaster totally didn’t phase her at all. That’s…like…against the rules!”

Matt couldn’t help but snicker at the disgruntled tone lacing his best friend’s exasperated voice, and the way the edges of Foggy’s mouth dipped in displeasure.

“What rules, Foggy?”

“The rules of the universe, Matt. You’ve had too much good fortune-

“Right, like being blinded and orphaned-”

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m talking about-”

“Guys, please. If you two keep bickering, Matt’s gonna be late. He’s lucky she’s even going out with him at all. Can we finish this?”

Karen glanced between Matt and Foggy with an arch of her brow, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to capture her lips as Matt’s teasing grin faltered into a purse of his lips from that bruise to his ego.

“Wow. Thank you…for that vote of confidence, Karen.”

“It’s true and you know it. Now, both of you sign these damn papers so we can get out of here before she changes her mind.”

Foggy’s expression suddenly turned serious as he focused his attention solely on Matt, staring at him with an accusatory finger pointed in his direction.

“I swear to God, Murdock. If you fuck up my pipeline to those crack cookies, I will never forgive you. You better turn that Matthew Murdock charm up to a million, you got me? I want those cookies, Matt. Cookies.”

»»———　　———««

It had been five days since Matt had asked you to dinner, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. Between the slew of court cases he was elbow deep in and the extra patrol he’d been doing at the docks to bust a trafficking ring, he hadn’t had a chance to talk to you again. He couldn’t feel your presence when he awoke past his alarm in the mornings, and when he finally got home at the Devil’s hour, he could hear you below him sleeping soundly in your bed.

For the past five nights, the harmony of your heart’s rhythm had eased him into a peaceful sleep like a serene lullaby.

But Karen’s words had anxiety filling every single cell in his body as he navigated the bustling streets of Hell’s Kitchen.

What if you had changed your mind?

It had been five days. Five days without getting to speak to you again. Five days without another care package.

That wasn’t unusual, right?

You didn’t follow a strict schedule with them. The drop offs were usually every few weeks. It just wasn’t time for one.

Or maybe you didn’t want to deliver any more of them.

Maybe the reality of who and what he was sank in and gave you cold feet.

Maybe this was over before it began.

“Fuck.”

Matt felt like he was losing his mind playing the role of the plaintiff and the defendant in the case of had he royally fucked this up already. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous to go on a date. Maybe it was because you were the first person he was going on a date with as himself. Not one half concealing the other. Not with a pre-spun web of lies to cover his tracks. Not with a rehearsal to remember to play down his abilities.

All his cards were out on the table, and while he felt an absolute rush of liberation that you knew the truth already, the consequences of that truth were daunting and seemed to be lurking around every corner of his mind. By the time he reached his door, his clammy hands kept slipping over his key, and sweat had started to bead uneasily along his hairline.

Should he call this whole thing off?

He really didn’t want to.

Did you want him to call it off?

He prayed you didn’t.

Had you been thinking about him for the past five days too?

He really hoped so.

»»———　　———««

When Matt finally made it to your door, he was nearly out of breath and his cheeks were flushed with heat. He had changed three times because you had, and he didn’t want to be over or underdressed. He focused his senses intently on you, trying to decipher the materials and textures of the outfit you finally settled on. You had music playing as you got ready, and for a few moments Matt just paused and listened to you hum along. You seemed to be in a good mood, and that eased his nerves considerably.

Was it wrong for him to invade on your privacy like that? The angel on his shoulder was already adding it to the laundry list for his confession on Sunday. But the Devil in him argued that he was going to hear you anyway. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help what his senses picked up.

Fifteen minutes before he was supposed to meet you at your door, Matt panicked and realized he hadn’t got you any flowers, and promptly ran down the street in search of a vendor. He spent eight minutes trying to pick some out. He didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, and roses felt too cliche and insincere. He wanted to pick something special, something that showed he put thought into them, even if he had run to get them right before he was supposed to pick you up.

The vendor had talked him into a bouquet of violet peonies, and since he didn’t have time to spare, he raced back praying that this was the one flower you didn’t hate or God forbid were allergic to.

Matt took a moment to gather himself outside your door; wiping the sweat from his brows with the back of his hand, attempting to steady his rapid breathing, smoothing his windblown hair back into place, and reciting a quiet Lord’s Prayer for good measure.

When his knuckles finally collided with your door to knock, he didn’t know if his heart was racing from the marathon he had just run, or because of you.

The light patter of your feet eagerly approaching the door caused a smile to grace his lips, and once he tuned out the sound of his own heart raging in his ears, he could hear yours fluttering in your chest like a hummingbird.

You were nervous too.

There was a bright smile on your lips, and a light twinge of embarrassment from how quickly you had flung your door open, and you let out a quiet laugh at your own expense.

“Hi Matthew.”

God, he had forgotten how melodic your voice sounded, and how much he suddenly loved his own name hearing it fall from your lips.

“Just Matt, is okay. Only my priest calls me Matthew. And, well…a few judges in the courtroom. And my partners when I cause them undue stress in the workplace. I mean you…you can call me whatever you want, whatever’s more comfortable. It’s just-it’s kinda formal, and you don’t have to-”

“Matt’s nice. I like Matt.”

“Matt likes you.”

Matt internally grimaced as those words slipped past his lips, and the mixture of disapproval and mortification on his face from his own blunder caused a fit of giggles to erupt from your mouth.

“Well, then we’re on the same page. Glad we’ve covered that base for tonight.”

He let out a breathy chuckle as he dipped his head for a moment, trying to find the source of his usual easy charm to refuel his glaring depletion. He cleared his throat as tilted his head to the side slightly, gazing blankly past his crimson glasses in the direction of your face with a somewhat shy smile on his full lips while delicately handing you the bouquet.

“I uh…didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, but the guy said these were the prettiest ones he had.”

Warmth spread across the tops of your cheeks when your fingers lightly brushed against his to retrieve his thoughtful offering, your lips immediately splitting into a wide grin.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, Matt. I love peonies. How did you know purple was my favorite color?”

Matt perked up at that, and he stood up a little straighter as a proud, dimple-showcasing, toothy grin took over his mouth.

“Lucky guess.”

“Do you always get so lucky?”

“I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Matt’s dazzling grin immediately dropped, and you could see his eyes widen behind the cherry tinted lenses. As his face paled and his lips parted in horror, his brows shot up above the frame of his glasses.

“Oh God, I didn’t-that wasn’t…I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not-you’re not-this isn’t…I meant the date. Not that I’m expecting anything-I wouldn’t-I just…meant I hope it goes well. I didn’t-Jesus fucking Christ.”

You were nearly in tears with laughter as Matt stumbled over his words. A part of you felt bad for laughing at the clarity of his humiliation, but it was so endearing knowing he was just as affected by his nerves as you were. This man that went out every night to take down dangerous criminals, and was arguably the most feared man in the city himself, was standing in front of your door stumbling over an apology about an unintended double entendre.

Reaching out to place your hand on his arm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze, momentarily distracted by the dense muscle you felt beneath the soft material of his shirt, before smiling at him in sympathy as you attempted to control your laughter.

“Matt, it’s okay. Really.”

He let out a deep exhale, his tongue darting out to wet his lips quickly as he let out a short and dry chuckle. Matt nodded his head in your direction, a faint curve of self-deprecation on his lips.

“Is this the worst first date you’ve ever been on?”

There was a teasing tone accompanying the timber of his voice, but layered beneath you could detect a chord of genuine curiosity intermingled with trepidation. The smile on your lips only grew as you looked up at him.

“Actually, it’s one of the best.”

Matt was completely in awe of you. There wasn’t a single falter in your heart’s rhythm. He felt his lips easily mirroring the smile that was on yours, reaching his hand out to lightly grasp your elbow as your hand was still comfortably placed on his bicep.

“What would I have to do to make it the best?”

“Hm. What’s for dinner?”

“Italian. That I know you like.”

A soft noise of content hummed from your throat, and the grin that bloomed on your lips triggered his own.

“Yeah, you’re definitely in my top three right now. But, the night is still young.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle at the playful invitation that flowed from your voice.

“Top three? I can work with that. I like a challenge.”

»»———　　———««

The restaurant Matt brought you to was a quaint, family owned spot just a few blocks away from your shared apartment building. It’s a place he had passed by on several instances, the aroma of fresh produce and homemade pasta sauce passed down through generations capturing the intrigue of his senses every time he crossed its path, but he had wanted to save it for a special occasion like a celebratory fifty year old bottle of champagne.

And tonight, he was popping the cork on it with you.

The space was incredibly cozy. Tea light candles flickered romantically on every table and cast an amber glow in the somewhat dim lightning. Collections of sepia and noir photos of large families and historic Italian architecture decorated the walls. The imported Sangiovese was rich in tannins and bold in flavor, caressing your tongue like bittersweet velvet. And the loud personality and thick accent of your waiter repeating your orders off in an alluring symphony of Italian made you feel like you and Matt had somehow been transported straight from Hell’s Kitchen to Italy just by passing through the door.

Both of your nerves seemed to evaporate into the breeze flowing through the open windows with every splash of burgundy against your lips and exchange of exquisite flavor from your dishes. Matt asked you questions with childlike excitement, eager to learn more about you, studying you with the exact same enthusiasm he showed important cases that were of the utmost importance to him.

In return, he found himself answering your own inquisitions easily without having to spare the devilish and more complicated details. It was so incredibly emancipating to not have to pretend with you. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t having to play a character. He could just be…Matt.

You approached every question with genuine curiosity and a respectful distance of where his invisible boundaries might be, and it made his heart soar that you were trying so hard to carefully craft his comfort. Matt had known that he was enthralled with you the first time he met you, but by the time dessert came, he was absolutely smitten.

He didn’t want to get too ahead of himself, but he also didn’t want the night to end.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Hm, I don’t know. You sure it isn’t too out of your way?”

Even if Matt couldn’t feel the way your lips parted into a huge smile, he could hear it in the cadence of your voice. The subtle joke made him chuckle as he nodded his chin in your direction, his own mouth pulling into a charming smirk.

“I’d still offer even if you lived in Long Island.”

The sudden spill of heat across the tops of your cheeks and the quiet sharp intake of your breath had his heart pounding faster in his chest.

“I suddenly wish I did.”

Even though your tone was playful, he could detect the implications behind your words. You didn’t want this night to end either, and that had him soaring up to cloud nine. Feeling emboldened by your indirect confession, Matt reached his hand out slowly to brush his fingertips against the palm of your hand, easily threading his fingers through your own, reveling in the softness of your skin that he had missed. He felt a spark every time your pulse resonated against his own, and his cheeks nearly hurt from how much he was smiling.

“I prefer you living a floor below me.”

By the time the two of you reached your front door, Matt couldn’t tell if it was the electricity from the building buzzing in his ears or the anticipation that kept building the entire walk, growing larger and larger like a snowball ready to plow into his chest to cause an avalanche when you turned your body to face him. As your thumb lightly brushed against the back of his scarred knuckles, a question that had been bouncing around in his head all evening could no longer go unanswered.

“So, as far as first dates go, what’s the verdict? Did I move up at all?”

Matt splayed his most charming smile across his plump lips, and while the flirtation in his voice was evident, so was the unmistakable undertone of uncertainty. The blood rushing through his veins was roaring in his ears like tides crashing against the shore during a storm.

“I’d say you made it to the top two.”

Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, seemingly surprised by your answer, his brows raising above the browline of his glasses slightly.

“Second place?”

“Unless you’ve got a last minute testimony for me to rule in your favor, Counselor.”

Your voice remained soft and teasing, but your heart was fluttering violently in your chest, like the hummingbird was trying to escape its cage. Matt carefully let go of your hand, reaching up to pull his glasses away from his face, baring himself completely before you as he slipped the crimson lenses into his pocket. The slight gasp from seeing his eyes for the first time that caught in your throat caused a bashful smile to appear on his lips.

His tongue darted out to wet them quickly, catching a taste of the tiramisu you shared still lingering on your tongue. He wanted to devour it from your lips. Taking a bold step forward, he did his best to fix his gaze where he thought yours was, leaning in slightly until your noses were merely an inch apart, the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips.

“May I?”

His voice seemed to have dropped an octave lower, coming out in an intimate whisper that you answered all too eagerly.

“Yes.”

Matt couldn’t hold back any longer. He quickly closed the sliver of distance between you, pressing his lips to yours with a satisfied groan, feeling a surge of pride at the way your breath caught in your throat. For a good thirty seconds, you actually stopped breathing. When he reluctantly broke the kiss, he brushed his lips against yours and whispered into them softly.

“Breathe.”

The second the command slipped off his tongue, you exhaled heavily before sucking in a sharp drag of oxygen, and Matt couldn’t stop the smug grin that overtook his entire mouth.

“Well, sweetheart? What’s the verdict now?”

“Yeah…yeah, yeah definitely in the number one spot.”

Matt beamed at the breathlessness of your voice, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest as he purred into your ear.

“Lucky me.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @desert-fern @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @danzer8705

Tags

matt murdock matt murdock x reader matt murdock x you daredevil fic matt murdock fic

2K notes View Post

bakersbucky

2 years ago

Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Doctor!Reader

Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.

CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's goofy af you've been warned

WC: 1800+

A/N: I don't know, you guys, I just couldn't get this scene out of my head hahah

Your back is turned when the two men enter the office, so you don’t notice right away that one of them is practically shoving the other inside. You hear the grumbling though.

“I’m fine,” and “Let go,” and “This is a waste of time.”

You glance over your shoulder as one of the nurses places a clipboard outside an exam room and gestures for the men to wait inside. It’s a slow day at the clinic so, after finishing up the notes from your previous appointment, you head over to check the chart before walking in to greet your next patient.

The two men look up when you enter. The younger one is sitting in a chair and the older one has a firm hand on his shoulder as if he’s forcefully trying to keep him there.

“Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Y/L/N,” you say, placing the clipboard on the table as the two men say hello. “What seems to be the problem?”

“He hit his head,” the man who’s standing says.

“I’m fine,” the other assures you.

“Hard,” the first man points out.

The seated man rolls his eyes. “He’s overreacting.”

You narrow your eyes slightly and approach them. “What’s your name?” you ask the man with the apparent head injury, crouching down so that you can look at his face up close.

“Don’t you have my chart?” he asks. He's wearing a cheeky grin and you can tell that he's flirting.

“It’s Bradshaw,” the standing man says. “His name. And I’m Captain Mitchell.”

You glance up at the older man. “If you could refrain from answering for the patient, please, Captain,” you say, slightly annoyed.

“Right,” he nods. “I apologize.”

The seated man raises his eyebrows. “Well, that’s a first.”

You move to grab a chair and position yourself in front of him. “Full name and rank?”

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. What’s yours?” the man asks with a bit of a smirk.

You tap on the name tag hanging off your lab coat coolly. You’re not unaccustomed to receiving this kind of attention, however it doesn’t happen too often at work. “What’s the date today, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you ask casually, reaching for your clipboard.

“You don’t have a calendar, Doctor?” Bradley asks.

You glance up at him pointedly. “Are you always this cooperative?”

“This is the kind of shit I have to put up with on a daily basis, Doctor,” Captain Mitchell mutters.

“Well, that’s good news,” you say, smiling up at the man. When he furrows his eyebrows, you clarify, “No noticeable change in personality.”

Captain Mitchell grins wryly. “What a relief.”

Bradley snorts and starts to get up. “We’re done, then?” he asks.

“Not quite,” you say, indicating for him to sit back down.

Bradley sighs wearily but resumes his seated position across from you. He places his hands in his lap and lifts his eyes to meet your gaze with a skeptical expression.

“Are you experiencing any dizziness?” you ask.

“No,” he responds, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

You glance down at the clipboard in your hand, slightly unnerved that he’s so boldly watching you. “Headache or nausea?” you ask without looking back up.

“Nope,” he responds.

“Can you count backwards from 100 by seven?”

“Are you serious?” he asks.

You glance up at him sharply. “Would you like to conduct the examination, Lieutenant?”

He sighs and starts counting.

You stop him after several correct numbers and ask, “What is your profession?”

There’s a brief pause during which Bradley lets his head dip to the side to study the contours of your face. You glance up at him expectantly and he looks into your eyes again. “I’m an aviator,” he says nonchalantly, although you notice his chest puff up with pride. As if you don’t regularly meet pilots working at the health clinic on base.

You look down at your clipboard as though you’re reading the questions off the page but, really, you’re just avoiding his gaze because his eyes have a we’re-gonna-fuck look about them and you’re almost starting to fall for it. “Any previous head injuries?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he responds, and you notice the sexy rasp in his voice despite trying very hard to ignore it.

“He crashed his bike into a tree when he was five,” Captain Mitchell chimes in.

Both you and Bradley look up at him with some amusement, having nearly forgotten he was there. You blink at the captain pointedly before returning your attention to the chart in your lap. “I hope he’s better at maneuvering these days,” you comment.

Bradley starts laughing which makes you look up at him in surprise. Captain Mitchell is also chuckling mildly. “He has his moments,” he says.

You give them a tight smile and rise from your seat, setting your clipboard down. Bradley stands too, towering over you because he’s still so close. You take a step back, nearly stumbling over your chair, and both Bradley and the captain grab your arms to keep you from falling.

“You alright?” Bradley asks.

You nod, straightening out your lab coat and pointing to his chair. “Sit, please,” you say, not meeting his gaze.

“You got it, Doc,” he says, sitting back down. Captain Mitchell smirks in amusement.

“Tell me what happened,” you say, approaching your patient confidently to perform a physical exam.

Both he and the captain start recounting two vastly different versions of the same event while you check Bradley’s vital signs. Once they’ve finished speaking and you’ve located the swelling on Bradley’s head, you glance between the two of them skeptically. Then you pull a penlight out of your lab coat and say, “Follow the light.”

You watch Bradley’s pupils constrict in response to the light but, when you move the penlight to one side, his eyes remain fixed on yours.

“The light, Lieutenant,” you remind him.

Bradley shifts his gaze to the right as instructed, but every time the movement of your penlight crosses the midpoint, he lets his eyes linger on yours for a split second. You flick off the light and observe as Bradley’s pupils return to normal size. His mouth quirks upward slightly but he never breaks eye contact.

“Good,” you say, dropping the penlight back into your pocket. “Now you can stand.”

Bradley gets out of his seat while Captain Mitchell watches on cautiously, as though he expects him to fall over. When the captain steps closer, Bradley holds out his hand.

“I’m fine, dad.” Bradley’s sarcastic tone indicates that the captain is, in fact, not his father, but his companion’s affectionate expression in response probably puts him in the category of loveable uncle who has frequently – albeit unsolicitedly – stepped into the role. Bradley straightens his back and looks over at you calmly, awaiting your instructions.

“Stand on one foot for me,” you say.

Bradley smirks. “Anything for you, Doc,” he says, bending his left leg upwards.

Captain Mitchell lets out a tired sigh, shaking his head, while you attempt to not roll your eyes. “You can put your foot down, Lieutenant,” you say crossly.

“You want me to put my foot down, Doc?” he responds suggestively.

“Rooster!” the captain warns.

“I’m kidding!” Bradley chuckles. “She knows.” He extends an arm out to point at you. “You know, right?” he verifies, glancing over at you.

“I apologise.” Captain Mitchell shakes his head again.

“That’s the second time,” Bradley notes.

You raise your eyebrows at the two of them. “Well,” you say. “That’s another good sign.”

“What?” they both ask.

“His sense of humor is intact,” you say.

Bradley grins at you. “You think I’m funny?”

The captain closes his eyes.

You fight to keep a straight face. “As long as you think you’re funny, Lieutenant.”

“Do you recommend treatment, Doctor?” Captain Mitchell asks.

You look at him with a small grin. “For the humor?”

Bradley snorts but the captain considers your question. “Might come in handy,” he says.

Bradley lets out a sarcastic, “Ha-ha.”

“No,” you say. “He’s fine.”

“Told you,” Bradley mutters to the captain.

“But,” you say, “if you start experiencing any of these symptoms” – you hand him a brochure on concussions – “come back in and we can do a more comprehensive assessment.”

Bradley takes the brochure from your hand. “I’ll do that,” he says with a nod.

…

As you’re heading back to your office, you notice Bradley eyeing you from the front desk. He mutters something to Captain Mitchell, in response to which the latter glances in your direction before looking back at Bradley pointedly. Then, he gives him a couple of claps on the shoulder and heads out the door.

Having arrived at the door to your office, you don’t linger to find out what Bradley is up to. But, just as you’re about to sit down at your desk, Bradley’s head peeks in through the partially open door. He drums on the doorframe with his knuckle despite already having gotten your attention.

“Was there something else, Lieutenant?” you ask, walking back around your desk toward him.

Bradley grins sheepishly. “May I come in?” he asks.

Truthfully, you’re surprised he’s not already inside. You gesture for him to enter.

“I uh,” he starts, hesitating when you meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says, grimacing. “For being an idiot.”

You raise your eyebrows but give him a warm smile. “We can blame the head injury.”

Bradley nods slowly. “Let’s,” he says. “Although, I’m afraid it’s permanent.”

You chuckle. “Well, at least you’re self-aware.”

He cringes slightly but it quickly turns into a grin. He takes a deep breath, holding your gaze. “I like you,” he says bluntly.

You’re slightly taken aback by his directness, so you simply stare at him for a moment.

“I hope that’s okay,” he adds when you don’t say anything.

“Uh, sure,” you respond awkwardly, panicking slightly because he’s so tall and broad-shouldered and charming.

“I sort of want to take you out,” he says, taking a step forward.

You sort of wonder how often he pulls this kind of thing. You’re nothing if not a veteran skeptic. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Bradley watches you with a knowing smirk. “But do you want to?” he asks.

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

Bradley sticks his hands into his pockets, his eyes sweeping you up and down. “It matters to me,” he says.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I can’t go out with a patient” –

“I’m not your patient anymore,” he says, the low rasp of his voice even more persuasive than his words.

“You’re a patient of this clinic,” you say.

“I can find another clinic,” he responds.

You lower your gaze, pursing your lips to keep from smiling too widely. “I work long hours, Lieutenant. I don’t exactly have much time to socialize.”

When you glance back up at him, Bradley flashes you a dazzling grin that demonstrates how fantastically unconvinced he is that your busy schedule is truly a reason for concern. “I haven't heard a no, Doctor,” he points out.

“You haven't heard a yes.”

Bradley chuckles. “That’s fine,” he says, taking several steps back toward the door. “I’m not in a hurry.” And with these words, he walks out of your office.

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Tags

bradley rooster bradshaw rooster x reader bradley bradshaw x reader bradley bradshaw fic bradley bradshaw fanfiction

3K notes View Post

bakersbucky

10 months ago

mama

MIA

5K notes View Post

bakersbucky

1 year ago

UGHHHH. LOVE THIS

simon telling the guys he's got a girl to go home to post op and johnny's gobsmacked because him??

his simon? with a sweet thing?? that isn't repelled by his very existence??? he's gotta meet you! (he's also mildly upset that the rest of them are single. or is it jealousy that the man he's gotten himself off to is finally taken?)

it takes a little (a lot) of cajoling to at least show johnny a picture and when simon hands him his cracked phone, johnny whistles low and murmurs out a pretty lass.

and you do look pretty. you look pretty from the side as you're washing dishes, even with the gaudy yellow gloves covering up to your elbows. you're so pretty from the back as you're bent over, carefully basting the chicken you're baking. you even look pretty fuzzy, the camera blurring your features while zoomed in.

there's even a video of you but johnny doesn't overstep. he knows better. he waits for simon's go ahead, and once he gives the almost imperceptible nod, johnny quickly presses play.

the room is dim, the television casting a soft glow upon your face. your legs are folded beneath you, your gaze fixed on whatever it is you're watching, your hand reaching for the bowl of popcorn on the nightstand.

"ken wha' she's watchin'?"

"i dunno, but she's been into nature documentaries as of late."

johnny hums softly and the video comes to an end.

"yer a lucky man, LT."

simon doesn't say anything.

(and neither does johnny. not about the grilles of the window in every picture nor the quiet chirping of crickets and even quieter crunching of leaves in the video.)

7K notes View Post

bakersbucky

2 years ago

OH LORDDD THE ANGST.... IM INVESTED

Cruel Summer | Chapter I: August

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, friends-with-benefits, mutual pining, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: You and Neteyam have been friends since you were children, and you taught each other everything, from English and Na'vi, to movie references and hunting, to everything about your own and the other's bodies. It was the perfect friendship-with-benefits, on paper. But how long can it last in the face of all that stands to tear it apart?

A/N: I'm so excited to say my new Neteyam series is officially here, and I hope you enjoy the first chapter!! This was for some reason one of the easiest and at the same time, one of the hardest piece i've ever written, like some parts came to me almost instantly and others I STRUGGLED WITH, besties. I hope it's not super disjointed and that you're as excited as me to embark on this journey. Thank you for your patience and can't wait to hear your thoughts. As always, I deeply appreciate your replies, reblogs, likes and follows, they mean so much x ly besties xoxo

: ̗̀➛ listen to August here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

Your back beneath the sun, wishing I could write my name on it

Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinking I had you

There was so much about you and Neteyam’s relationship, if you can even call it that, that was wrong and unsightly, that was forbidden and hidden. But, as you stood in the forest, propped on your elbows, taking in the sun shining brightly through the leaves and his toned, azure back, on which patterns of the forest branches rippling in the breeze formed, you couldn’t care less if you tried. In these moments, fleeting and irreplaceable, life was everything you’ve ever wanted, more than you could have ever dreamt, and enough to keep you going. In these moments, there were no humans and Na’vi, no impending doom, no animosity over your presence in the village, no hatred emanating from Neytiri’s entire being whenever her intense and prying eyes spotted you or Spider in the crowd or amongst her kids, no woman that would soon be bearing Neteyam’s children, there was nothing else, but him and you and the promise of hushed confessions and wandering hands, of lingering stares and breakable heaven.

You couldn’t help be drawn by the silent invitation of his body, so tempting and beautiful, so big and different to yours, but just similar enough to allow for… certain enjoyable, mind-blowing pastime activities that were sure to occupy the time and every ounce of free space in your mind, and your soul, and your entire being. Your hand trailed on his back, from the nape of his neck to the band of his loincloth, moving over the scratches that you left on him just a couple hours ago, over the healed scars he got from battles and hunts that you could name and describe each of by heart, and you drew your name on his back with your fingers and the air beneath them as ink, hoping this way you’d mark him, this way you could keep him forever. Pushing the unpleasant thought aside, you playfully tugged at the purple fabric covering him. He turned around on his side to face you, his defined abs and chest fully on display, and the way he eyed you, desperate and needy, full of hunger and desire, made your stomach churn and core throb.

“What do you think you’re doing, ma Vol?”

Your mouth curved in a mischievous grin, which turned into a full-blown laugh as he grabbed your much smaller hands in one of his large blue ones and with very little visible effort, stretched your arms above your head and manoeuvred you on your back on the mossy, comfortable grass. He hovered over you, his smile mirroring your own from just a few moments ago, and he tapped the mask currently providing the oxygen needed to keep you alive with his index finger, the sound ringing in your ears like bells in a church.

“I would give anything to not have this in the way right now.”

“Me too. Death by make-out with a hot blue 9 something foot tall alien? There are worse ways to go.”

He shook his head at you and scoffed, but you could tell he was amused. The desire you felt for him instantly diminished as the thought of the fact he would be heading home soon enough, home to his family and his new mate, crept unwelcome in the back of your mind and slowly moved forward, until it was everything, until it was the only thing.

“Do you have to go back soon?”

He sighed and let you go, plopping himself back on the grass next to you, chest up and looking at the sky and the clouds moving above you, and all the shapes they made as they passed you by.

“You know I do.”

You knew. You’ve known for years, ever since the first time you and Neteyam started this game of hide and seek with the rest of the village, with each other, and with yourselves, that this was temporary, that one day, he would belong to someone else, and all you would be able to do is watch.

Salt air, and the rust on your door, I never needed anything more

Whispers of "Are you sure?", "Never have I ever before"

Your and Neteyam’s lives could not be more different. You were human, a tiny, inconsequential human, left behind after the war, unable to be hooked to cryo, so you stayed with the scientists who were fortunate enough to be allowed safe haven on this planet that was now as much their home as it was the Omatikaya’s. You knew nothing of Earth, other than stories told to you by your surrogate family and from whatever form of art they had with them, that brought them the comfort of a home long forsaken, but never forgotten. In time, it brought you comfort, too, knowing what Earth used to be like, knowing that humans were not just monsters, but had it in them to be smart, and kind, and funny, to create beautiful music, and poetry, to combine words, words that everybody had access to and everyone could speak, combine them in such a way that it brought tears in your eyes or happiness in your heart, that made you think and ponder about the meaning of growth, the meaning of love and laughter and life and death. It was beautiful, they were beautiful, and - you hoped - so were you.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You and Neteyam shared many firsts throughout your 19 years of friendship. Despite your differences, despite your incompatibility and despite so many challenges facing you, despite both knowing it was most likely wrong and shouldn’t have happened, you always found solace in each other. You found yourselves in each other. You were each other’s first kiss, first sleep over, first flirtatious touch and first wandering hands, first make-out, first second base and first third base, first secret affair. Everything you knew about each other’s bodies, about your own bodies, you learned together. What makes each other tick, what makes each other tickle, what makes each other cum. In time, you knew everything about the other and you made sure you took advantage of that knowledge as often as you could.

The first time you and Neteyam ever kissed was when you were both 12, both innocent children, both curious. At that time, he was not a lot bigger than you, as it turns out humans stopped growing in height a lot sooner than Na’vi did. Now, your full body reached his lower ribs, but at the time, he was only about a head taller than you. It was short and sweet, and so so innocent, and yet, it never left you. That kiss, which at the time was just fulfilling a curiosity more than anything else, started a complicated and convoluted journey that was full of potholes, full of tight swerves and icy roads, full of dangers and darkness, but a journey worth taking nonetheless, because in the short periods of clear skies and sun-kissed warmth, it had the most heavenly sights and luminous vistas, and it was everything.

The first time you shared a bed, you were 15. Actually, a bed is a very loose term. In reality, it was just a mess of sheets in one of the recreation rooms that no other human or avatar really frequented, outside of you and Spider. It was large and tall, and had a huge screen where you usually watched movies whenever the Sullys came by to visit. Neteyam taught you Na’vi and he, being the dutiful son and soldier that he was, would come by to learn English at least once a week when he was young, knowing it would one day come in helpful against the humans. He didn’t say it, but you knew he also did it to be more like his dad, yet another way he emulated the Toruk Makto.

His favourite way to learn is with you, as you were also learning as you went along, and both of your favourite way to learn is by watching Earth videos, and movies and tv shows, and trying to figure out what the references meant, what the idioms meant, how to use slang that made no sense to your ears without the scientists explaining it to you. When you were alone, sometimes, you liked to make your own meaning for phrases, and laughed at your own little private jokes that no one else would ever be privy to. One of those evenings, that started with studying, and a marathon of Friends, ended with tangled limbs and soft snores, covered in blankets and the warmth of each other’s bodies. It was so innocent, and so childlike, and so was the second kiss you’ve ever shared, that happened in between giggles and The One Where Ross Finds Out, where the tension that erupted between Ross and Rachel and the kiss that resulted off it, prompted a philosophical discussion around physical displays of affection and what the big deal about it was. After trying it out for yourselves, you concluded it was overrated.

That didn’t last long, as your first make-out came soon after, a little less innocent and definitely less childlike. You discovered maybe there was some truth in those shows, and you discovered that you both enjoyed the tingling on your skin and the butterflies in your stomach that each other’s touch provided. That lasted for a few years, and eventually progressed into this, whatever this was. Initially, it was just curiosity. Then it became about how good release felt, how necessary it was, how much the pleasure helped both of you unwind and go about your day, forget about frustrations about the labs, and training, and parents and surrogate families, it could all be solved by each other’s bodies. It was purely self-indulgent, it was friends with benefits at its finest.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

But life never stopped around you, and the world didn’t stop around you, as much as it felt like it had when it was just the two of you. You both grew up, and while you were still the same human, still doing the same things and having the same limitations that would always plague you, Neteyam’s world was a constant whirlwind of which you were just a small breeze. In time, he took his Iknimaya and Uniltaron, he became a man, and a revered warrior, despite being only 19. Early last week, he even got a mate, and will soon consummate that mateship, and he will be bonded with her for life, and you will be just a part of the past, just a small reminder of his childhood, just a dull ache in a mass of growing pains.

“What are you thinking about, ma Vol?”

You smiled softly as his nickname pulled you out of your musings. Vol. He first called you that when you were kids, and he found out that on Earth, the eight month of the year, when you were born, was called August. The Na’vi had a name for August, and it was vospxìvol, and after the first time the word ever left his lips, so did any other name for you disappear from his mind. To everyone else, you were Y/N. To him, you were his Vol. His never-ending summer, your warmth surrounding him for all time, your day eclipsing his darkest nights.

You wanted to be honest. To tell him what you thought about, what occupied your every other thought, what weighed on your heart so heavily it felt like it would overtake you, every day, all day, was him. It was how much, despite your unspoken agreement that this was purely physical, it got to mean more to you in time. It was how much you loved him, desperately and unconditionally, impermeably and forever. You wanted to tell him that you knew the rules, you knew that whatever this was couldn’t last, wouldn’t last, but there’s nothing more you wanted in this life than a way to make it last, to make him yours. That you curse your life every day that you will never be able to understand this world the way you were meant to, that you would never understand the bond the Na'vi have with it and with the beings in it, with each other, and that the thought of his queue, the most intimate part of him, a direct influx into his thoughts and feelings, connecting to someone else’s, made you sick to your stomach, made bile and acid gather in your mouth until it burned everything in its wake as you had to swallow you back down where it belonged.

You felt stubborn tears pricking at your eyes and forced yourself to push them back away. Neteyam was your best friend, was the man that knew you more intimately than anyone else ever would and still, there were somethings better left unsaid, some cans of worms that would spoil even the most unfastidious of appetites.

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

“Just thinking about how I’m going to be able to explain all of these marks on my body, you fiend. I think I’m running out of ideas, there are only so many rashes Norm won’t get worried about, and only so many clothes that will cover all traces of you on me. I don’t have the luxury of shopping for more clothes, you know?”

Neteyam laughed and you knew you were out of the woods and that he wouldn’t pry anymore. It was time for you to go back, time for you to deal with the unfairness of the universe in your own room, under the cover of darkness and solitude, drowning your senses in music and mindless entertainment.

“Take me home?”

He turned his back to you and knelt, waiting. You smiled at his unspoken way of telling you to get on his back, and obliged, attaching to him like a backpack. In reality, this was easier for him than walking next to you, as you were slow and a far cry from his nimble and athletic capabilities. Plus, it meant he got to keep you close a while longer, got to feel his heart beating on his back and your chest moving as you inhaled, and your breath in the crook of his neck. It was much better than walking. It didn’t take long for Hell’s Gate to appear into view, the big, mostly decrepit ruin of a city left behind by the humans large enough that it could be spotted from miles away. It was Jake’s decision as Olo’eyktan to have the Omatikaya village close-by, an attempt at keeping close to the scientists and uniting the two worlds, both of which you had a foot in, but nothing more - enough to not be homeless, never enough to truly belong in either.

“What are your plans for the rest of the night?”

The silence was very loud, and you sighed in a desperate attempt to fill it.

“You know you can say you’re going to see her. I’m not under any illusion that you have no contact with the woman you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with when you’re not with me.”

It was his turn to sigh, and you found yourself regretting ever asking.

“I know, but still…”

“Yes?”

“You and me… it’s… I -…”

You chuckled bitterly. Neteyam wasn’t a man of many words, but he was a man who always knew what those words would be when they did come out of his beautiful mouth. He never blabbered, or got flustered, he was the most poised and sure of himself person you’ve ever met. And yet here he was, mind blank and uncertain tone, and you felt relieved, at least to some extent, that he wasn’t completely unaffected by this whole situation, that you weren’t going through this completely by yourself.

“I know.”

“I love you, you know?”

That you did know.

Remember when I pulled up and said, "Get in the car"

And then canceled my plans just in case you'd call?

Back when I was living for the hope of it all

Neteyam’s mind tortured him today more than most other days, as so many memories of your life together enveloped him, and the warmth they provided was quickly dispersed by thoughts of a face, a new face, a known and yet strange face, the face of the woman he’s been promised to. They wrestled with images of your face, beautiful and alien, so different from everything he knew and yet so familiar, of your body that he knew so intimately, that he knew better than his own, images of it trembling under him, of your parted lips and the moans that escape it, of your eyes he dreamt about each night shut tightly as each orgasm washed over you, of your hands that always found their way to his back or his ass, pushing him deeper in you, or in his hair, pulling on it or tugging it behind his ear.

It’s been almost two years since the first time he’s known you like this. The first time, it was awkward and strange, there was so much fumbling and so much that neither of you knew, and despite how many movies you watched, there was very little information on Na’vi and human… relationships, so it took a lot of trial and error to get to where you were at now, a point of no return, a point of unspeakable pleasures and feelings that ran so deep, they’d put most oceans to shame. Feelings that he hid, because speaking them out loud would lead to only heartbreak. What you two had worked. It’s worked for so long, neither of you knew anything else. You were best friends, you knew everything about each other. So why would he ever risk it? Why would he ever ruin it, since there was no future anyway?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Neteyam knew that what you did was wrong. It was wrong, but it never felt wrong. It felt so right. Despite all of your differences, despite all of the ways you could never be together, despite the fact that he could never form tsaheylu with you, nothing compared to the feeling of you falling asleep with your limbs all over his torso, with your head in the crook of his neck. Nothing compared to the connection he felt when he sank in you and you looked in each other’s eyes, and it felt like he could hear all of your thoughts, feel everything you were feeling, and he knew you did, too. In those moments, he thinks you both knew that what you had was far away from what it was always intended to be, and far away from how simple he thought it was when you first started it.

Because now there was someone else. Another woman, a woman that he’d have to bond with, have babies with, start a family with, a woman he had to love. A woman that wasn’t you. And while the thought of it made his skin crawl, so did the thought of disappointing his parents and his clan, who he would lead one day, by refusing, by not following through, by admitting he’s been engaging in these sort of relationships with a human, an alien. A demon. His mother could barely stomach you and Spider as her kids’ friends, Neteyam knew she’d have a heart attack is she were to hear about the activities you and her son got up to on a daily basis.

Your chuckles ceased his train of thought, and he was glad.

“You can put me down now, Teyam.”

The gate to the big metal complex was so close to Neteyam he could feel the smell of metal inundating his nose and coating his tongue. He hated this smell, and he hated this place. You were the only good thing about it.

“Sorry. Got lost in thoughts.”

He heard the unmistakable sound of an oxygen mask being removed and his heart booming in his ears as panic took over him instantly, but he had no time to react to it as you turned his face towards you and placed your lips on his in a needy, desperate kiss that made him weak in the knees, that redirected his galloping heart from panic to desire, to ache… to love. Once you broke the kiss, Neteyam watched as you gasped for air and helped you tightened the mask over your face again, and then jumped from his back and onto the ground.

“What was that for?”

“Just saying thank you for a good day.”

Just saying please don’t forget me once you reach her tent tonight.

There was still a lot of commotion in the labs as you made your way through the corridors to reach your bedroom, and despite your body telling you it’s exhausted and needs sleep, you instead put on a lab coat and joined them, since you knew that going to bed meant unnecessary suffering and putting your mind through scenarios it didn’t need to think about just yet, not when they would all become reality soon and there was no point in living through it twice. You were surprised to find Spider in one of the cell culture labs, chatting animatedly with Norm. He smiled widely as he spotted you, and you tried your best to reciprocate and push aside all the ugly feelings plaguing you.

“Hey, everyone.”

“Hi, gorgeous.”

You knew Spider had a crush on you, and that he has had a crush on you for a while now. You weren’t sure if the crush was on your per se, or just on the only person who shared a similar age and species with him, but you didn’t have it in you to ever question him or turn him away. He was a good friend, and a good guy, and who knows? Maybe it was fate that you two were the only human children on Pandora, maybe it was fate that you were here together at the same time. Maybe despite your mind convulsing in pain just at the thought of him, thought of anyone else but Neteyam, he was who you would end up with, your only chance at lasting love, at a family. Maybe life was less about what you want, less about what makes you happy and more about the greater good, the greater purpose, the ability to make something out of nothing. Maybe.

“What have you been up to today, kid?”

“Not much, just training with Neteyam. Can’t you tell by my bulging muscles?”

Norm removed his eyes from the microscope they were glued to, in order to eye you intently up and down.

“All I can tell is that rash is not getting any better. You need to use the hydrocortisone cream I put in your room.”

You prayed that neither men couldn’t see the blush that made your cheeks so hot from the inside out, you were struggling to keep your hands by your side and not fanning your face aggressively.

“Will do, Norm. Need any help?”

He thought about it for a while, then pointed to one of the incubators.

“You can split the cells? I was going to ask Harry to do it, but since you’re here and want to help…”

You smile at the chance to keep your mind occupied at least for a little while, at chance to not think about whatever it was that Neteyam was doing with another girl, with someone else that wasn’t you.

The next few weeks passed in a blur, and so much has changed in your life, it was hard to keep track. The humans have officially returned to Pandora, and in their return, obliterated endless amounts of precious forest, of natural resources, of life that will never come back, that will always be mourned and missed. You were all forced to move camp, deep in the Hallelujah mountains, where the Flux Vortex was too powerful to allow for detection. It was painful and scary, and you felt numb as you had to say goodbye to the only home you’ve known for 19 years, to the forest and to the village. You couldn’t imagine how to villagers felt, how the Sullys felt… how Neteyam felt. There was only one thing that made this time bearable, and that was the fact that Neteyam’s mateship was postponed until things settled down. It was only temporary, and it meant very little in the grand scheme of things, but you were just happy you didn’t have yet another earth-shattering event clawing at your insides, ripping you to shreds.

The relief didn’t last long, though, as Neteyam might not be sleeping with another girl, but he was also not sleeping with you anymore, either. The move and the new quarters meant a lot less privacy and a lot less space. You were fortunate enough to have your own room in the new labs, but the room was tiny and sharing a wall with Norm and Max. Neteyam was forced to move back into his parents’ tent, which meant the two of you never got a chance to be together at night anymore. He hasn’t come to visit you since the last time he took you back to Hell’s gate, and that was almost 2 weeks ago.

Today, you were hoping to change that. Today, you would ask him to take you to a different floating rock, or on an Ikran ride, or anywhere else but here, in this place that felt stifling and suffocating, this place that couldn’t, wouldn’t feel like home, no matter what. You missed him. You needed him. He had been the calm in all the chaos of your mind your whole life, and especially now, the spiralling felt particularly dizzying, the current particularly hard to navigate.

As you were mindlessly pipetting some treatments of some cells, your mind wandered to the Sullys, all of whom were away today. The kids were in the forest, exploring woods that were no longer particularly safe to navigate. You knew they didn’t care, but still couldn’t help roll your eyes at the sheer irresponsibility. They asked you to come, but getting into any more trouble with Neytiri, or risking running into any humans didn’t particularly appeal to you. On the other hand, Neteyam and his parents were on a family hunt, a sweet tradition that has begun soon after Neteyam completed his Iknimaya and continued since, running of 6 years.

Spending time with the Sullys was for sure one of your favourite ways to pass the time. The kids have always loved and welcomed you and Spider into their lives and their family, no matter how much Neytiri might have tried to influence them otherwise. Though Kiri found Spider her closest friend, you and her still loved hanging out together, loved being in each other’s companies, loved speaking for hours on end about everything and nothing. Kiri was drawn to humans, as Lo’ak was, and they took to your culture, your different ways of being, and thinking and existing, more so than any other Na’vi you knew. You assumed a lot of it had to do with their own differences to the clan, differences that while to you were insignificant, to them and to the Omatikaya, it meant the difference between a true Na’vi and a half-breed, an alien. Their slightly atypical appearance, which they shared with Jake, could be overlooked in him, as he was the Olo’eyktan, the Toruk Makto, the man that helped Eywa save their planet and their clan from certain death, but unfortunately for both his kids, that courtesy rarely extended to them.

Neteyam and Tuk looked all Na’vi, and could both pass as twins of their mother’s appearance at different stages of her life. Neteyam was the prince of the Omatikayan rule. He was tall and handsome, he was lean and muscular, and while his face was his mother’s, his body was definitely his father’s. Neteyam was a warrior. Through and through, he was forged in fire, with metal bones and razor-sharp teeth. He was forged to be unbreakable, to be the hope of the clan, the heir to the throne, the perfect son, the greatest soldier. Neteyam was one of the youngest Na’vi to go through his second birth after completing his Iknimaya and Uniltaron. He is the last man to get a bow made from the original Home Tree, that was burned to the ground almost 20 years ago. He was the epitome of the Omatikaya, and he wore all of these hats proudly, and he fought permanently to be worthy of them. Neteyam didn’t know what it was like to disappoint his parents, or his people. Unlike Lo’ak, he couldn’t afford to. Because of Lo’ak, he couldn’t afford to. He was willing to give anything… everything up in order to live up to the unrealistic expectations placed on him, because to him, that’s the only way to live. You admired him, admired his resolve and admired his will. You didn’t understand it, but you were human. You were selfish in nature, and you didn’t think that was a bad thing. You didn’t think being a little selfish sometimes was bad. In your mind, you shouldn’t have to live only for others. You only had one life, a short life, and that life should be lived, and that life should be enjoyed. That was a cause of a great deal too many arguments between you and your best friend, and it is something you will never see eye to eye on.

Norm’s aggressive entrance made you yelp out in surprise, and so did his face, contorted in pain and fear, so unlike the kind, calm and chipper one you’ve gotten to know throughout the years.

“Get ready. Jake radioed me, the kids were attacked by the humans. They’re coming back now, so let’s make sure we have supplies prepared, so we can patch them up.”

You felt a shudder overtake your body, and your hands, holding a pipette in one hand and a centrifuge tube in the other, felt limp and weak, felt like the weight was too much for your body to reasonably take.

You got up from your chair almost robotically, feeling our mind blank as the information stewed and settled in it, until it reached a point it was the only thing ringing through your otherwise deafened ears.

“Come on, honey.”

“A-are…” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, couldn’t even bring your mouth to speak the words that were haunting your soul, that were constricting your heart.You were out of your mind with worry, so much worry, it was permeating through every cell of your being and bringing out toxins you didn’t even know resided in you, poisoning your blood and and making you pant, making you want to scream in anguish at the possibility of your honorary siblings, of him, being in any way hurt, in any way touched by any of the humans.

“I think they’re alright. A little banged up, and probably terrified, but I think they’re ok. Jake didn’t say much, so let’s be prepared for everything. Get suture kits, and gauze, get numbing cream, the works.”

You were grateful for Norm, now and always, for how he’s been more of a father figure to you than you could have ever anticipated or even hoped for. He’s loved and cared for you and Spider like you were his own, and you will never be able to repay him for all the attention and affection, but you strived to make him proud, strived to be a good student, a good scientist, a good person, a good daughter. That’s one of the reasons why you spent a lot of your time in Hell’s gate in the adjacent forest, and less time in the village. One of the reasons.

As you got out of the labs and were hit by the warm thin air of the Omatikaya stronghold, you gasped as your eyes landed on Neteyam, who had deep cuts that leaked blood, like your eyes were leaking tears, both dropping carelessly, his on the ground, yours gathering at the bottom of your mask. His face cleared up as it spotted you in the crowd, and a quick look of easement panned across his features, and for a second, just a second, it felt like there was no one else in this world but you two, like this planet was an empty void kept alive and spinning by the magnitude of your love, by the gravity of the feelings pulling you towards each other, electrifying the air around you.

Your feet carried you forward with a mind of their own, and before you knew it, you were running, dropping the bag of supplies on the floor and pushing people out of the way - or at least trying to, not very successful when you were as strong as a literal toddler. The relief you felt overtook all your other thoughts, all your discernment of your circumstances and you surroundings, all the self-awareness of the situation and the knowledge you had to keep your feelings under wraps. It all went out the window as you jumped in Neteyam’s arms and circled your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips and although he winced in pain, he immediately tightened his grip and you and pulled you in closer.

You moved until you came face to face with him, and you eyed him attentively to make sure he was alright, that he was really here and safe.

“Are you -?”

“I’m fine, ma Vol.” he smiled at you, and you could tell he was trying to tell you something by the way his eyes moved from yours to behind you. You were scared to follow his gaze, terrified to look behind you and see Neytiri glowering at you, and the confused, maybe scandalised faces of the rest of the Na’vi. So you didn’t. You got down and moved in line to all the rest of your surrogate siblings, doing a similar ritual, so as to not stand out from Neteyam’s. Lo’ak was happy to kneel and open his arms wide for you, and you appreciated this boy you loved so much more in this moment than you could ever tell him. He always knew what to do, he understood you well, just like you understood him.

You finished with Spider, who looked a little more hurt than all the rest of them, and you knew it’s because, unlike them, his bones weren’t made with naturally occurring carbon fibre, so his body suffered a lot more every time something didn’t go to plan. It pained you to see him like this, hurting and bruised, and it hurt you more to see the anguish and fear haunting his eyes. You touched his arm and smiled softly as heat spread out where your hands traced his injuries, and when he looked at you, he shook his head, signalling for you to not question him any further, at least not for now. You nodded silently.

As the only two humans who were born on this foreign planet, you and Spider had a special bond. You had to, you had to stick together, because no one else really understood what either of you were going through except the other. He would always be the only one who understands the pain of being stuck in this body that was weak and feeble, that only one who understood the loneliness, the deep-seeded and monstrous loneliness that plagued you, the only one who understood what it was like to want something you can never have, like a chance to be one of the people, the chance to have a family, the chance at being accepted, the chance at being loved fully and without restraint, without pushback, without secrets. Spider has loved Kiri his whole life. You knew that. You also knew how hard he was fighting against it, how hard he was trying to convince himself he liked you instead, the only person on this planet that was made for him, whose body was compatible with his. Forbidden love is one of the many similarities you two shared.

A small scream woke you up from your musings and you all snapped your head towards the sound that you now saw came from a woman, about your age, one that you knew very well, one that, despite every rational thought telling you otherwise, you hated with every fibre of your being. The woman. The dreaded woman that would one day be the mother of Neteyam’s children, the woman he’d wake up next to every day of his life, the woman he’d touch, and hold, and fuck. The woman he’d love. The woman that wasn’t you.

“Oh, Great Mother! Oh, Eywa!” Her steps were wide and rushed, and in no time at all she made her way through the crowd and stopped just in front of Neteyam’s body, and carefully traced her long, slender fingers on his body. She looked panicked and forlorn, desperate to make sure her mate-to-be was unharmed. She gasped as her gaze landed on his many bleeding scratch wounds, and took him by the hand as she pulled on his arm, willing him to go with her.

“Yawne, come on. I will prepare healing salves for you in my tent. Let’s go.”

You tried to swallow the bitterness that gathered in your mouth to no avail, as the lump that seemed like it had settled in your throat, never to leave you again, prevented it. You felt the familiar sting of tears gathering in your eyes and demanding to be released down your face, and knew you had to pull it together. This wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the time to think of how you’ve always been the one to heal Neteyam, it was always your hands trailing over his wounds, it was your hands that sutured his bleeding gashes, the one that made sure he wouldn’t ever scar, because the thought of anything marring his beautiful skin hurt you.

“Uhm, we’re here, too, you know?” Lo’ak send a small snarky look in the girl’s direction, and Neytiri hissed at her son, threatening him to keep quiet. The girl didn’t acknowledge his words, opting to continue pulling Neteyam away forcefully. Lo’ak didn’t like her. You didn’t know why. Unlike you, he didn’t have an obvious reason. Maybe it’s how she acted like the rest of his family didn’t really exist, like they were somehow below her. Well, not the entire family. She liked Neytiri and Mo’at, and she liked Tuk. It was just Lo’ak and Kiri that she seemed to ignore.

Your eyes remained fixed on Neteyam’s body, that was slowly getting farther away from you and closer to another woman’s tent, and you couldn’t help think how this was a fitting metaphor for your relationship and your future. He peered behind him and immediately found your face, and the look he gave you will haunt you forever. A look that told you that he loved you, that he was sorry, but he had no choice. A look that said “I wish things could be different, but they’re not”. A look that crushed your spirit and told you everything you never wanted to hear and nothing that could heal the pain currently poisoning your heart.

Spider placed a hand on the small of your back, and with one last look at your best friend, the man you loved, you turned your back to him, to her, and to the love you felt in every cell in your body and focused on the people who needed you. You motioned for Spider and Lo’ak to follow you to the labs.

“Come. I’ll patch you up.”

It was late at night when you finished everything you had planned on doing, and you dragged your feet tiredly to your room, eager to be alone, eager to be able to drop the facade you have had to maintain for the entire day and just release the anguish in your soul with a good crying session and some comfort show you have seen one too many times. You got into the shower and put the temperature as close to boiling as you possibly could, feeling the incessant need to burn a couple layers of skin, to remove the traces of Neteyam that will always be tattooed on you, the feeling of his lips on your body, that you could feel like he was here right now, the pressure of his hands as they tugged at your hips, as they wrapped around your throat, as they caressed your cheeks and pushed the hair out of your face. The tears that fell down your cheeks were removed as soon as they dropped, leaving only the memory of them, the images of what triggered them, of the anguished thoughts and deep pain that sank its teeth into you like a wild animal, tugging at and tearing apart everything they touched.

As you got out of the shower, you heard the unmistakable sound of the door sliding open, and of something falling on the floor with a loud clank, and you knew exactly who it was. Your entire body was red and puffed from the shower, including your face, on which it was obvious that you have cried for the past 30 minutes. Fuck.

With a loud sigh, that you hoped would lower your rapid heartbeat and shallow breaths, you opened the door and came face to face with Neteyam, who was knelt on the ground, trying to pick up what he dropped on the floor.

“Sorry.” He says meekly. “I wish I could control my tail better, but it’s always an accident waiting to happen in these tight rooms.”

You gave him a small smile that was not reflected in your eyes, and moved past him to sit on your bed. You fixed your eyes on the ground, noting how awkward and tense the atmosphere around you was. It’s never been like this. Ever. You and Neteyam have always been comfortable around each other. Always. No matter what ever happened in your lives or around you, no matter what depths your friendship reached, no matter how many boundaries you erased or walked past, it’s always felt natural. This didn’t.

“Why are you here, Neteyam?”

“What do you mean why I am here? I can’t be here?”

You scoffed.

“You can, you just never are anymore.”

“Vol… come on. You know it’s different now than it was in the village, in Hell’s gate. We’re going to get caught.”

“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t want to get caught. God forbid anybody knows you fuck me in your free time.”

“Vol…”

You knew you were being unfair. You knew it deep in your soul that he didn’t deserve any of this. You both agreed to this. You agreed to this a long time ago, and, if you were being honest with yourself, it was you that initiated it.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The first time you and Neteyam had sex, you were both drunk. It was your 18th birthday party, and Norm and Max organised a bash that would have apparently made even Earth bashes seem tame. There was food and music and dancing, and yelling and laughter and a lot… a lot of drinks.

So many drinks, in fact, that in the early hours in the morning, you and Neteyam stumbled back to your room, barely being able to make out the shape of the bed before crashing unceremoniously on it, giggling like a school girl when you did and the world refused to settle around you like you did in it.

“You’re so drunk.” Neteyam said, hiccuping slightly.

“No, you’re drunk. I’m fine.”

It was a nice change of pace, seeing Neteyam so free, so uninhibited, so… happy. His life was always busy, always messy, always difficult, having to parent 3 kids he didn’t bring into this world, picking up their slack, making sure they were safe and free, while he lived shackled to his family and his clan’s expectations, to the promise of being chieftain one day and all the sacrifices that came along with it.

“At least I can sit up.”

“Well, you’re about twice larger than me, so you know…” you were wiggling your fingers in the air, trying to make a point, although the point got lost in the abyss, much like the rest of your mind.

“Yes?”

“Fuck knows, lost my train of thought.”

“Goddamn, ma Vol, you are really drunk.”

He came and lay in your bed next to you and you immediately fastened your limbs around his torso, like he was the flame and your soul was the moth that couldn't stay away.

“So what? It’s my birthday. I’m an adult now! If I can’t get drunk on my birthday, when can I?”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“Do you ever think about having sex?”

Whatever thoughts Neteyam might have had evaporated quicker than water droplets in a fire, and he found himself speechless, not a totally uncommon occurrence in your presence.

“Cause I do. I think about it all the time. I mean, we watch so many movies, and series, and all humans seem to do is have sex. I heard Norm getting it on with one of the Omatikaya chicks in the village for a while now, and, all I can think of is when the hell is it going to be my turn? My turn to know what it feels like, to get to see what the big deal is, you know?”

“I know you think about it. I know you think about it with me. I can feel it, I can feel you, whenever we fall asleep together. I know you want me, Teyam. I mean, we’ve come this far, right? Might as well go all the way.”

“I hope you want me. Because I want you. You’re my best friend, you know everything about me. I want it to be you.”

Neteyam was doing everything in his power to ignore his increasingly harder-to-ignore erection and the way he was twitching at every word that came out of your mouth. Of course he wanted you. You were hot, and you were his. His best friend, the person he’s shared so many intimate moments with, the person that taught him everything he knew about girls, about pleasure, about so many things. But this might be a step too far, a step you could never take back. Neteyam always hoped that one day, by some miracle of the universe, you would get an Avatar, and you would get a chance to be one of the people. There’s nothing he wanted more in this world then to get to keep you forever. But, as the years went past, the possibility of that seemed less and less probable, and Neteyam knew he would have to find a mate one day, and he would have to love her and keep her, forever. He would sleep with her, and mate with her, and she would have his kids, and doing these things with you… he didn’t know how he was supposed to move on with his life like your presence didn’t permeate through every fibre of his being.

“I do want you, Vol. But I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea, Teyam. Think about it.” You chuckled to yourself, eyes shut tightly and fingers rubbing your temples, as if trying to summon the words into your brain.

“What was I saying?”

He laughed at your disorientated predisposition, realising he wasn’t in a much better condition.

“I forgot.” You kicked your feet up in the air as you remembered.

“Oh, yeah!! It’s a g-great idea. Because we’ve made out before, right? Multiple times. Because we’ve s-slept in the same bed before, so we know that works. Because we know each other, and we won’t tell anyone else, right? It can just be our little secret, and we have p-plenty of those anyway. Because, because… Because this way, whenever you'll get yourself a mate, you know that you will know what to do and won’t fumble around. I’m doing you a favour, if you think about it. It’s the perfect plan honestly. Foolproof.”

It was hard for Neteyam to argue with your logic, but that may be because the part of his brain that processed logic was dead now.

The first time you and Neteyam had sex, it was awkward and painful. Turns out there is a lot more fumbling and a lot more preparation and a lot more pain involved than what it is ever portrayed on the screen, and even more so since the man you were sleeping with was twice your size, and those proportions extended to… well, everything. It took a lot of lube and a lot of patience, but you knew you would have wanted no one else to have this experience with. There was no one else in the world that could have made this what it was, something that you would cherish for the rest of your life. He was kind and considerate, and he brushed the tears from your face with his thumbs when the initial pain got too much to bear, and he waited for you to adjust to his impressive length, that felt like it would tear you apart at the seams at times, and he kissed your forehead and whispered about how well you were doing, and how good you felt, and how there was no one else he would rather be doing this with, no one else in the world, not for the rest of time.

The first time promptly led to the second time, and although it took time for you to learn each other’s bodies, in a couple months, the pleasure you felt when he touched you was indescribable, the thrill you got whenever you saw him become putty under your touch boldened you, empowered you, made you want to do this every day, all day, for as long as you lived. In time, you learnt that you liked when he praised you and he loved the sounds he could coax out of you - the louder you were, the harder he got. You both enjoyed being in control once in a while, him most of the time, you - on special occasions. The dance you partook in was intricate and complicated, it was heaven and hell, it was pleasure and pain, it was everything you shouldn’t have and everything you couldn’t keep yourself from.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

As you looked at the man sitting on the ground across from you, eyes so cried out and tired they were seeing red, you knew you had no right to spit such words in his face, but the hurt and heartache, the anger at the unfairness of it all, it was clouding your judgement, making you want to hurt him like his present and upcoming absence from your life was hurting you.

“I know you’re upset about today. I’m sorry.” He looked pained, and he refused to look at you. He looked… spent. Exhausted and sad. Way sadder than you imagined he would be, if this was just about today. Something wasn’t right.

“Why would I be upset about today? You did what you had to do. I mean, she’s going to be your mate soon, right? It’s her hands that should be healing you anyway, not mine.” You eyed the wounds on his body that were now clean, but still red, and still mostly open. “Those are going to scar, by the way.”

He stood up suddenly. A step is all it took to reach you and his hand on your chest shot bouts of electricity all throughout your body, that you struggled to ignore. It took very little effort for him to push you back onto the bed until the warmth and softness of your blanket touched the skin that wasn’t wrapped in a towel. He followed suit, his body hovering on top of yours, and you felt his braids tickling your face and neck as his eyes bore intensely into yours.

“Stop. I know you are upset. I wish it could have been you. You know me, Vol. You know I wish it could have been you.”

You shook your head slightly, dreading how the tears were falling down the sides of your face and nestling in your ears. You didn’t know. Not anymore.

“You should go, Neteyam. This isn’t right. You’re engaged to someone else. I watched her today, watched how worried she was about you, how desperate to help you, to take you away so it’s just the two of you. You’re going to mate with this girl any day now. There’s no room for me in your life anymore. Not like this, anyway.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The first time you and Neteyam made love came after you were both spent from taking orgasm after orgasm out of each other. You were laying on his chest, tracing each twinkling freckle on it with your index finger, making patterns, making galaxies out of the stars proudly adorning his skin, the most beautiful stars to ever exist, to you.

Almost as if thinking out loud, you spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.

“You are so beautiful. It hurts me sometimes, the gaping differences between us. How dull and boring I am compared to you. How daft my skin, compared to your shiny, glowy one. How sullen my eyes look when I see them in the reflection of your bright ones, sparkling like the sun. I would give anything to look like you. Anything to be like you.” Sighing, dropping hot wet tears on his chest, you continued. “Everything would be so much easier if I looked like you.”

Almost uncharacteristically, Neteyam’s hand cupped your cheek gently and tugged slightly until your eyes met.

“Stop. Please. You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. You always have been. Your eyes are like the planets my satellites orbit around. I see them everywhere I go, every moment of my day, every dream I dream at night, there’s nothing else besides your eyes, besides your face, and your lips. Besides the words that come out of them, that somehow guide my every thought, focus my world and let me go on. You are more than beautiful, more than any word invented in any language that we speak. You are everything, ok? Everything.”

That did nothing to stop your tears, that fell even harder down your cheeks, forming a puddle on his chest.

“You can’t say these things, Neteyam.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“You can’t make me fall in love with you. And you can’t fall in love with me. What we’re doing is already complicated. Already beyond what either of us could explain to anyone we love. And that’s ok, because what we have works. But it won’t work if the feelings run deeper than what depth we’re comfortable swimming in. You’re going to leave me one day, and if you leave me and I’m in love with you, it will break me. So you can’t say things like that to me.”

He had a playful smile on his face, but his eyes were forceful and full of intensity as he got on top of you and looked down into yours.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you, and you’re not going to fall in love with me. We got this, Vol. But I will never leave you. I could never leave you. You’re my best friend. You’re everything to me.”

You let out a soft sob that was silenced by his lips pressing on yours and the sound was replaced by pleasured moans and whimpered sounds, of silent confessions that marked the end of comfort and the beginning of the end.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Back when we were still changing for the better

Wanting was enough, for me, it was enough to live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you'd call and say, "Meet me behind the mall"

He sighed as he got off from on top of you, his own tears falling on your face as he did so. He didn’t look at you as he spoke.

“The engagement is broken.”

The relief that flooded your mind didn’t have time to wash over you before he continued.

“Because I’m leaving. I’m leaving the Omatikaya, and so is my family.”

You and Neteyam shared many firsts. Your first heartbreak, the one that would break your spirit and your soul and your bones and ground them into a fine dust to be blown away by the wind, would just be one of many others.

So much for summer love and saying "us"

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

Taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @pinkpantheris @netemoon @fanboyluvr

Tags

neteyam sully neteyam x reader avatar fanfiction neteyam sully x reader neteyam angst neteyam x human reader neteyam x human!reader neteyam sully angst neteyam x female reader

1K notes View Post

bakersbucky

1 year ago

loved this sm!!!! pt 2🙏🙏

our paths crossing

Pairing: Tsu’tey x Avatar!Reader + Adopted!Spider

Summary: Tsu’tey is given a second chance at life, but not even Eywa could convince him to accept it.

Word Count: 9k+

Warnings: single mom power, generational trauma, parental manipulation (tsu’tey’s parents suck), fluff

Na'vi words used: pa'li - direhorse, nivi - hammock, olo'eyktan - clan leader, ikran - mountain banshee, Iknimaya - Rite of Passage, marui - home, oel ngati kameie - I See you, taronyutsyìp - little hunter, teylupil prrnen - teylu face baby, niktsyey - food/leaf wrap, tsaheylu - bond, sa'nok - mother, Uniltaron - Dream Hunt, irayo - thank you, tawtute - human, tswin - queue braid, maitan - my son, sa'sem - parents, taronyu - hunter, tsahik - spiritual leader, tsakarem - tsahik in training, meresh'ti cau'pla - banshee catcher

A/N: This was heavily inspired by other Tsu’tey works written by @simps256 @byunpum @shu-box-puns and @little-box-of-autism on Tumblr, and @ AlexiHollis on Ao3

~~~~~~~~~

PANDORA, 2154+

Everything is connected, one way or another. From the tiny stem of a plant, to the pa'li that steps on it, and to the ginormous tree looming over it. Pandora is made up of various different sizes of networks, from microscopic to gigantic. Some are easier to see than others. The network of tree branches and roots is clearly visible, but there are small ones, not physically distinct, and Eywa can see it all as clear as day.

Keep reading

Tags

tsutey tsutey x reader Tsu'tey imagine avatar tsu'tey tsu'tey fic

1K notes View Post

bakersbucky

2 years ago

LOVE LOVE LOVE IM SO EXCITED FOR PART 2!!!!

➶ ambivalent — series ; chapter i

➴ neteyam x human!reader — “we are mated for life”

“What is necessary to change a person is to change his awareness of himself.” - Abraham Maslow

synopsis: neteyam doesn’t know what’s worse. possibly having you as a mate or being in an arranged mating with a feisty woman that’s already laid claim to him. he finds a little irony in the fact that he never planned on taking a mate at all, but now he’s got two. he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, unsure of where to go from here but secretly finds a bit of solace with you.

genre: slowburn, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, 18+

tags/warnings: some sexual themes, this is a little more angsty this time, neteyam is going through it in this chapter so beware of a (lot) little horniness but also him dealing with his conflicting emotions as usual, slight kanu appearance (he’s as flirty as ever but will come off a tad bit distant – for good reason), some touchy ‘teyam, neytiri losing her shit (insert jake, the mediator) and the “only one bed” trope (its so cute until neteyam starts thinking a little too much about it and gets a little…excited)

word count: 21k (trust me, it’ll go by quicker than you think lol)

↳ notes: it feels like i haven’t posted in a month when in reality, it’s only been a few days 🤦🏽‍♀️ i swear, sometimes my perception of time is so off it’s not even funny but anywho! finally giving you all the first chapter, which is so exciting bc this is going to set the stage for the chapters to come ! there will be lots of questions, old and new, and i hope to answer most of them in the next two chapters so bare with me ;)) i have pretty much set myself up for a chapter a week, and since they’ll be fairly long, it should hold you guys until the next update. some won’t be as long as 20k+ but just know that i was insanely excited to get this out and made sure to include everything necessary to officially start the story so happy reading!<3

↳ need to know info: i’ve decided to change the na’vi speaking to where it will only be in italics when they are speaking it around her, otherwise it’ll be presented in normal text. they will also be speaking in na’vi throughout the entire story unless said otherwise, which will be made very obvious, dw hehe

↳ p.s. proofread by me, so pretend you don’t see any grammatical errors or anything shsj

ꕥ okok, enjoy n pls like/reblog! it is much, much appreciated, ty ꕥ

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“Again.”

The young warrior closed his eyes to gather himself before exhaling a breath. How long had he been at this again? Since dawn? No, he’d had breakfast. He was sure of it. Maybe it was sometime early in the afternoon that he was pulled off to the training grounds to practice. It felt like he’d been practicing for ages.

Sunlight could only be blocked out by the trees for so long until it was forced to break through the dense branches and leaves, throwing shadows across his damp skin appearing drenched with sweat. He longed for a well deserved break, but neither he nor his father would allow it. He had to shoot a perfect shot or he wasn’t going anywhere.

When the air was thick enough with tension and determination, he reached back and grabbed another arrow from the quiver against his back. Once the arrow was fitted to the string, he rested the shaft against the bow, and took in a slow breath.

“That’s it. Slow, and steady,” he heard his father say a few feet away.

The warrior visualized his intended target, a big tree just a few yards away. He’d done this numerous times.

Despite being among the finest of the bunch, he had some anxiety that he may miss. The fact that people were looking at him might have played a role. He was expected to perform at his absolute best because Neteyam didn’t miss. Ever. He was perfect with a bow. A perfect leader in the making. His father had likely said this to comfort him as he had just missed a shot, owing the mishap to anxiety, but it didn’t work. He was furious with himself. He felt angry because he was better than this. Much better. In fact, perfection didn’t exist until he was born. Up until he gave it breath and birthed it from his bare hands. All of his hard work earned him that. Except, for some reason, he couldn’t get himself to focus when he needed to the most. Because of how irresponsible he had been earlier, his mind was wayward. He was obviously still angry with himself for not paying attention earlier, which led to him squandering his shot.

He frowned, staring down the mark his first arrowhead made in the tree. It chipped the side, nowhere close to the middle where he’d aimed for. There was no more room for error. He had to get this right.

He had to.

“Anytime you’re ready, son.”

Neteyam was determined to show his dad that he could do this. That he could become olo’eyktan someday, and protect the people just as successfully as his dad had back when he’d gone to war with the sky people. He had the potential; he knew it. He couldn’t let his old man down.

He drew in another long breath, then held it as he steadied his hand, pinpointing exactly where he wanted to shoot.

This time he wasn’t going to miss.

He pulled back the string while oblivious to the sharp pain that shot through his raw fingertips, and when he was thoroughly confident, he let the arrow fly. It cut through the air and curved with the breeze. He watched it and waited while remaining as motionless and as stiff as a statue.

It’s perfect, he told himself, It’ll make it.

He inhaled just before it thwacked into the tree, right in the center of it. The bow dropped carelessly to the ground as he knelt forward to rest his hands against his knees, struggling to get his breathing back under control. It seemed as though his body had released all the tension it had been holding. He felt like the weight of the world had dropped down onto his shoulders.

He kept his eyes locked on the dirt beneath his feet while everyone around him hooted and celebrated at the winning shot. He appeared unaffected on the surface, but inside he was jubilant. It was because of him. A center-of-the-frame shot; a flawless execution. Given how exhausted he felt, he nearly couldn't believe it, but it was perfect. He was perfect.

He rose back up to see his father approach, standing in front of him with a proud smile on his face. Before droplets of sweat had a chance to blur his vision, he quickly wiped it away with a single swipe of his arm.

Jake nodded, placing a warm hand on his son’s shoulder, “You did good, boy. I’m proud of you.”

Neteyam wanted to cry, as embarrassing as that would have been, but he knew his friends would laugh in his face and he wouldn’t have been able to handle the embarrassment so he trained his features into a blank expression instead. He gave his dad a firm nod, feeling safer with that response.

“Go on and get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready soon,” and walked away to no doubt spend the rest of the evening with his mother and his other siblings.

His friends didn’t waste time circling around him, patting his back while praising him for his hard work. He couldn’t keep his face from stretching out into a tiny smirk this time.

It felt good being the perfect son.

However, that feeling didn’t last as long as he thought it would have.

When he reached his early 20s, he understood that there was a lot more to leadership than he had previously thought. Not everything was centered around working and improving one’s abilities.

His mother pushed him about taking some time to find a mate on more than a few occasions. She told him that time was passing and that he wasn't getting any younger. Before she grew too old to watch her grandchildren grow and pass on the lessons she had learned as a child, she wanted to see him happy and with someone. She also hoped to see grandchildren soon, but she didn't appear to comprehend what it was he actually wanted. The last thing he wanted right now was a mate. He was actually fairly certain that it wasn't even on his list of things to do. He wasn’t in any sort of rush, and wished she understood that.

In that respect, he was very similar to his uncle, Tsu'tey. Years after Tsu’tey let his mother move on with his dad, he—who wasn't really his uncle but whom his dad had named as such years earlier—took a mate. She had a softer side to her that occasionally could defrost Tsu'tey's icy cold exterior, even though he was still reluctant to show her physical affection outside of the comforts of their hut. Despite this, the two were a good match.

Neteyam liked to believe that he was very similar to Tsu’tey, in fact. That his sole purpose wasn’t to settle down and find a mate, but instead, focus on his duties and become a great leader to the people. Eventually, he would set his sights on picking the perfect mate, but for now, he preferred to work hard and train to take his dad’s place as olo’eyktan.

Overtime, he learned that his father’s shoes were hard to fill.

Neteyam knew he had a lot more to live up to in order to get his dad’s blessing as a true leader, but his mother already considered him one; which was one of the reasons she used to try and convince him to start opening his eyes to the potential mates within the village. He had to admit, if he were looking for a mate right now, there was no shortage of prospective women to choose from. Most had made their affections towards him abundantly clear ages ago. However, if he were going based on fertility, beauty and skills in the basics of weaving and healing, the decision would’ve been made a long time ago. If not just for his mother’s satisfaction, there had to be more than that to a potential mate in order to catch his eye.

He wasn’t just attracted to beauty and what a woman was taught from birth. More than anything, he wanted someone that could protect herself. Prove that she could be soft and motherly while also having the skills and attributes of a warrior, like him. The idea of mating with someone that had no clue how to defend herself, that only knew how to be fragile and weak — he felt that there was no point in even looking. None of the women in the village exuded the sort of warrior-esque that he was looking for; if he were looking, that is. Therefore, he chose to prioritize his duties above all else.

“Son, it is nice to see you once in a while but I wish it weren’t always under these circumstances,” Neytiri commented followed by a grieving huff as she rounded Neteyam to reach for the damp cloth that sat in a small, wooden bowl filled with water. She squeezed out the majority of the water, and began patting at the open wound, ear flicking back at his hiss from the sharp pain. She sighed, “You know, you are very lucky that I didn’t need to tend to your father this time. He came out of the hunting trip unscathed, unlike you,” his ears flattened at that, “Although, you’d always have someone waiting for you to come back from your hunting parties to patch you up if you would just start looking for a mat-”

“Mother, please,” his head turned to the side, eyebrows furrowed.

Neytiri hummed, feeling a tug at the corner of her lips, “So stubborn,” she finished up cleaning the wound and began to coat it with a special healing salve that would close it up within a few days or less. “I think a mate would do you some good. Would keep you at home sometimes with your family, your people. Always gone, always training or hunting. My son,” once done with that, she placed her hands on his firm shoulders, and tucked her chin into the crook of his neck, “It is almost as if you are running from obligations to yourself.”

Neteyam sat cross-legged in front of the small fire, staring at the curling flames in thought. Running. If only he was able to truly do such a thing. If only he didn’t have so much honor for his parents, he would’ve ran away a long time ago. He didn’t feel as though he was able to be himself. He never even knew what it was like to be a kid back then.

There had always been so much pressure on his shoulders. Right from the moment that he was able to hold a bow properly, he stood in the training field, day in and day out, learning how to shoot. Tsu’tey and his father never gave him time to breathe. To just be a kid, and to run around and play with the other kids. No. He’d had ‘future olo’eyktan’ etched onto his back the moment that he was born. He couldn't escape that, so he made it the center of his world. Instead of viewing his fate as something to fear, he made himself see it as a blessing. Lately, he began to wonder if he’d done the right thing.

He still wasn’t sure.

He could feel himself growing antsy by the minute. Deciding that it was late and that he needed to get some rest, he began to lift himself to his feet. Neytiri followed him with a disheartened gaze, wondering if her son was ever going to let himself be happy for once. From a mother’s point of view, she only wanted the best for him. For all of her children. She wanted them to experience all of the happy and beautiful things she had when she was as young as them. Especially Neteyam, who was the one she was most worried about.

Lo’ak, her youngest son, was someone she never liked to bring up. He was mated to a human woman. He’d left the village and the clan entirely when he knew that their bond was never going to be accepted. It was painful for her to part ways with her son knowing that he was hurt by his family’s views of his choice of a mate, but it couldn’t have been helped. His mate didn’t feel welcomed, and he wasn’t going to subject his children to such a life so he fled. Found homage elsewhere, and never came back.

Kiri had even found someone that she became interested in, but things were still at a flirty stage. Not that Neytiri minded. Kiri had always taken her time with these sorts of things, but Neteyam… He wasn’t showing any of the women in the village interest. Not even a spare glance or two. He fought with her every time she brought the subject up. He seemed to like being alone and to a point, she could understand that but the beauty of loving someone, having a strong connection with them and bonding with them through tsaheylu — it was unlike any other feeling in the world. She wanted him to experience that, but perhaps he had his own pace set.

Only time would tell.

She decided to believe in eywa’s will and guidance for her son for a period longer, and stood up as well. Neteyam brushed a few slippery strands of hair back over his shoulder before he gazed down at his mother. Just a few years ago, he was shorter than her. He was at her shoulders back then but now, he’d risen well past her head and could look down at her. It only made him recognize how much time had flown by within the last few years since they’d come back to the forest. He understood her worries, but he wished she would see things from his perspective. He wanted to find the perfect mate, and knew that she was out there somewhere. If she could give eywa a little more time to present him with that person, then she’d see for herself. She’d finally understand what all of the wait was about. Until then, he would continue to dodge her questions and wait himself.

Neytiri smiled as she coiled a finger around one of his loose curls, “You should wear your hair down like this more often. It suits you.”

“Hm,” He didn’t normally wear his hair unbraided, but after coming back from hunting, it needed washing. Most of the time, he made clean kills. He wasn’t messy, and never hardly expelled much energy. However, tonight’s kill was a bit more difficult than what he was commonly met with. Or rather, the kill was tough this time because his mind had been elsewhere…

Either way, it wouldn’t have made sense to leave it in braids so he took the time to unravel each one, and spent delicate time ridding it of the blood and dirt that had gotten into it. Now, he was letting it dry but that was half of an excuse since he didn’t have the energy to braid it back into the same style he’d had it in. “It wouldn’t be suitable for hunting or battle.”

“Well it is a good thing you don’t have to hunt again for a while, and we are not in battle now are we?” She quipped, causing his tail to sharply swish to the side at that. “My sweet boy,” she pulled him into her arms, rubbing down the line of his back, “Do you know how proud I am of you? Your father talks to me all the time about how well you are doing in your training. You are already the warrior that you wish to be. You will be a great olo’eyktan someday, but you are much too hard on yourself. You must commend yourself for all of your hard work so far.”

He knew that. Of course he knew. He was his own worst critic, and he couldn’t help it. He’d learned most of his stubbornness and prideful nature from his father. Everything that he did, it couldn’t be less than perfect. It had to be done right or else he wasn’t satisfied.

Taking breaks might have been beneficial. He put in a lot of effort simply for himself. His parents respected him, as did those in the village and even those on the other side of the ocean. He had already established himself as a leader, but for some reason he didn't feel prepared. Not in the way everyone else felt he was.

“I know,” he muttered, and wrapped his arms around her, “I know.”

Neytiri hissed, and pulled her son back to smack his arm, “If you are aware of this, then do you not think that you should stop being so hard on yourself?”

Neteyam’s lips pulled down, “I don’t think I’m that hard on myself…”

She openly stared at him silently for a moment before she shook her head, placing her hands on her hips, “Ah, I give up. You’re free to go,” he almost smiled to himself as he turned around to head back to the entrance of the hut, “Remember to sleep on your stomach for a few days until the wound heals, yes? No sleeping on your back or you will slow the healing.” When she patted his back close to the wound, he jumped, tail straight up. The look he gave her was almost comical, causing her to stifle back a laugh, “Sorry.”

His ears twitched, almost wishing that he hadn’t gone to his mother to get his wound looked at.

When he stepped outside into the cool, night air, he was welcomed to the smell of food. It seemed that his kill had finally been skinned and cooked, but he didn’t feel very hungry. He was typically one of the first ones to get a bite, but all he wanted to do was climb up to his treehouse and sleep for at least ten hours. He knew that if his mother caught him skipping dinner, she’d force feed him claiming that, “growing boys need to eat,” but his argument was that he was done growing and needed the sleep more. He smiled. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

So, as sneakily as possible, he tip-toed to where his home in the trees were, and climbed up. With each step, he could feel the tension in his muscles attempt to seize up. How his bones ached for a moment of reprieve from the constant exertion of moving about the entire day.

The treehouse wasn’t that far from the village. When he had decided to move out of his parent’s hut a few years ago, he wanted to live in something that was closer to the trees. Something that felt a little more like home to him. Something that reminded him of hometree, a place he never got to see nor live but heard so much about from his parents. Especially his father. His mother grew up there, along with her family for generations, but his father raved on and on about how inventive the system of hometree was. How there’d been a place for the entire village within the tree itself. From the sound of it, it worked the best and he knew from then on that since hometree no longer existed, he’d make the most out of what he had and built something of a similar concept. His father helped him whenever he was able to, so it turned out great. Neteyam was quite satisfied, and always loved coming home now.

Once he made it inside, he didn’t waste any time setting his bow into its usual corner and began to peel off his protective wear. Once he was settled for bed, he cozied up in his very well made bed that was just multiple pieces of large fur on the floor. He preferred the fur over a hammock because it was the most comfortable. It was also warmer.

Before he laid down, he pushed his hair out to the side and sighed. A simple long braid would’ve fixed his current annoyance, but he couldn’t even do that. He was so tired, too desperate to rest his eyes and his body. Fortunately, sleep didn’t take but a few quiet moments to loom over him, sinking him into a deep slumber that quieted the peaceful whistle in the wind and the singing of the wildlife that surrounded him.

The start to his morning was a bit of a blur.

Neteyam felt that he had a fairly good memory. He remembered how manageable Tuk had been when she was younger. How playful and hyper she was, bouncing off the walls and skipping with every step. A curious little thing that sometimes got into things that she shouldn’t have. Ultimately, she was just being a kid but he never thought he’d miss that version of her compared to who was standing in front of him now. If only he could turn back time.

He sighed, tempted to run a hand over his face for the fifth time in a row, “Tuk, listen. You cannot walk around without something to cover yourself wit—“

“It’s Tuktirey. Not Tuk,” One of Neteyam’s eyes almost twitched. Almost. “M’not a little kid anymore, and why not?” She countered, arms folded to cover her naked chest; not to give herself some coverage but more in a teenage-rebellion kind of way. Her brows were even pulled down in an angry frown, “You do it all the time so, why can’t I?”

He’d tried his hand at explaining the concept to her every time she got like this but she refused to hear it, saying that it never made sense. Again and again, she would argue him down by saying that girls could do whatever boys could do. Which he was all for because she was right. There had never quite been a stigma against things like that, but when it came to clothing, there had to be a line drawn somewhere. She couldn’t prance around with nothing to cover herself with like she’d been able to do plenty of times as a child. She was 13 now; a teenager with a figure coming in so she had to be a bit more modest, in a sense. He started to wonder if she’d been spending too much time with Kiri, the self proclaimed women’s activist, lately. Kiri learned the term from Norm who was nice enough to even expand on the meaning which Neteyam didn’t see as a problem until she took it too far. Dare he say she could get a little annoying with it from time to time.

Seemed like Tuk was well on her way to doing his head in about it too.

Neteyam tilted his head back to stare at the tip of the hut, wondering how he was going to successfully dress his younger sister at this rate, “Eywa, I need your guidance. Please send me a sign. Help, of any kind. I’ll take it, just please.”

And so his prayers to Eywa had been answered. Quickly, too. The flap of the hut flipped up, startling him in the process.

“Hey, is Tuk ready ye—wha, why is she still naked?” Kiri asked him as she waltzed in without announcing herself. Seeing the predicament that her older brother was in, she couldn’t hold back a teasing half smile, crossing her arms, “Ah, I see. She’s not listening to you, is she? Should’ve seen this coming.”

Ah. So Eywa indeed had it out for him then. Perhaps she was upset because he’d skipped out on dinner last night without his mother knowing. Or was it more about defying everyone, and throwing himself into his duties rather than putting some of that energy towards finding a mate? He couldn’t really decide on which one Eywa had more over his head, but either way — he was dealt with a pretty shitty hand.

When he asked for help, he didn’t mean the help of his other sister who could be just as smart mouthed as Tuk. Now he had to deal with double the trouble. He couldn’t have thought of a more fun way to spend his morning. Truly.

Yet, Neteyam prided himself in being able to get himself out of situations such as these. He knew that if he acted fast enough, he could put all of this behind him and carry on with the rest of his morning. He was intent on having a good day, and that started with getting himself out of dressing Tuk. Easy.

He stood to his feet, dropping his palms against the sides of his thighs, shrugging, “That's it. I give up.” If Eywa threw him a bone meant to be his saving grace then who was he to ignore it? He’d always been more of a gentleman anyway so of course he’d take it. He walked to Kiri’s side, sparing her a smirk. He rested a hand on her shoulder, and winked, “It’s your turn. Have fun.”

“Hey, no! Wait! Mom said she wanted you to—!”

He’d already left, and was out of sight leaving her to wrestle with their little sister. Again. It was never easy for Neteyam to dress Tuk. She should’ve known this time wasn’t going to be any different.

She looked at her younger sibling before she pouted, dropping her hands and walking over to her, “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Tuk hissed at her, and Kiri mentally cursed her brother. She was definitely going to get him back for this.

Neteyam took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with the morning dewy air, pleased with the sounds of his sister struggling to get Tuk dressed for the day and walked on as if he’d wiped his hands clean of that situation and could get his own day started. He didn’t last long on his high horse though when he saw a tall figure heading his way. He almost groaned. It was so early. He’d just slinked away from his brotherly duties, now it was as if he was being punished. He was beginning to believe that Eywa had a sick sense of humor.

“Hey, brother!” Neteyam was met with an irritating slap to the back that was thankfully a few centimeters away from the wound that was still healing. He jolted up all the same. When he glared at his friend, he was almost blinded by the big, goofy grin on his face. What could he have possibly been so happy about? The sun was barely over the trees. Could Neteyam get at least five minutes to himself before he had to entertain the daily nonsense that went on in the village? Would seem not. “Got some good news, and thought of telling you all about it first. Got some time?”

Neteyam was strong, but the kind of strength it took to hold back a quick no was a show of great fortitude that he didn’t think he had in him. At least, not so early in the morning. In fact, it was so early, he was pretty sure the animals in the forest were still sound asleep. It was barely light out. He couldn’t stand it. Not when he was bothered, left and right. Mornings had always been reserved for him to take a little walk about, and think. His life didn’t always revolve around the village’s incessant penchant for neediness. He used mornings to go over the day’s list of things to do and even liked to slide in a bit of meditation if he had the spare time. He hadn’t done any of that yet. One of the first things he did was head to his parent’s hut to tend to Tuk. He’d just left that failed obligation, and was trying to think of what he needed to do next. Plans were put on hold again.

Luckily for everyone that loved bothering him, he was used to it.

“Yeah, sure,” he said with a forced smile that came off a lot more convincing than he expected it to, “What is it?”

Kanu. He became Neteyam’s closest friend when Lo’ak was forced to leave the village with his mate a few years ago. It was hard for Neteyam when he came back and had no one to confide in, but once he delved into training to be the next olo’eyktan, he met Kanu. Eldest son to Tsu’tey, which forced him to live a similar childhood to Neteyam due to the pressures of being the eldest sons of highly respected men of the clan.

Neteyam was taller, but Kanu was older than him. Even so, it still made Neteyam feel like an older brother again. How he needed to watch over him, and guide him in the right direction, always. It was like Lo’ak never left. Neteyam would’ve never realized that piece of him was missing if Kanu wasn’t there. He’d always been there, but Neteyam overlooked him when they were younger. His hands were full with his little brother and other younger siblings at the time so he never paid much attention to him. Still, he was there. Neteyam found it ironic that he was still there when he and his family came back. Kanu was just as receptive to seeing him again as he had been when they were kids. It would’ve been just as heartwarming now if he wasn’t always so bothersome.

“Okay so,” Kanu started walking so Neteyam trailed next to him, thinking about all of the things that he could be getting done if he wasn’t being forced to listen to something he didn’t give half of a rat’s ass about, “There’s this girl—”

“Hold on,” Neteyam cut his thoughts short and stopped him there, pausing in the middle of the village and in the conversation, “You interrupted my peaceful morning routine to talk about a girl?”

Kanu’s eyes darted left of him then back, nervously. Neteyam could tell he was nervous by the ear twitches and his tail swinging back and forth. He almost sighed. He’d never know true peace at this rate.

“Uh…yeah?” Neteyam gave him a dead look before he turned right on his heel, and started to walk the other way. “Wait!” Kanu caught up to him, laughing, “Does talking about women really bore you that much?”

“Yes. To death, in fact.”

Kanu blinked for a moment, maneuvering his body to the side to pass by someone, catching up to his friend once again, “You can’t be serious. You used to be so into it when we were kids.”

Neteyam looked at him funny, brow raised, “Emphasis on ‘used to’. We are not kids anymore.” He shifted his gaze forward, hellbound on heading to the training grounds as he saw no opportunity to spend the rest of his morning doing the things that he wanted to do. Might as well get a head start on his training for the day. “Some of us have to focus on more mature things rather than women 24/7.”

Kanu’s face twisted up in an unappreciative frown, “I don’t talk about them 24/7. I probably like them more than you do, but that doesn’t mean I’m always talking about them. I talk about other things all the time.”

“Like?” Neteyam sent him a look, genuinely curious because again, he had an excellent memory and knew that Kanu was infamous for constantly bringing up some new girl he started to like.

“Uh…”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, “Exactly.”

Kanu groaned next to him, “Brother, understand! Women are one of the more greater pleasures of living,” he shook his head in disbelief, “I don’t know how you resist the temptation. I mean, I don’t always go to them. They sometimes come to me. It’s almost as if they’re drawn, you know? Really, it’s a phenomenon,” he smirked to himself, chin high in the air, “but who am I turn them away when—”

Neteyam stopped walking for the second time, and pressed a finger into his friend’s chest, teeth clenched, “And that is exactly why uncle is so hard on you now. He expects you to focus on your training, and what are you always doing?” Kanu visibly swallowed, face blank, “Talking, and not just talking but talking about girls. You are a year older than I am. It is time you grew up, and started thinking about your future and what you actually want to do. If you still want to be a warrior, you cannot be one who constantly salivates at the sight of someone with three fingers and a pulse instead of training to get better. Don’t you get it? Uncle is counting on you, and so is my father.” Kanu stayed silent, hands opening and closing by his sides, finding the sudden shift in the conversation uncomfortable, “Yeah. Remember him? The olo’eyktan? The one who has appointed you as my soon to be right-hand? Or did you forget while you were chasing after girls for the five years you could’ve spent honing your craft?”

Neteyam stared back, feeling his blood boil. Even though they shared a similar past, growing up with like-minded fathers and all, Kanu always had it just a little bit easier than he did. Never took things seriously, and lived above his duties like he could meet perfection at the door without the hard work of crawling his way there. He spent more time lazing about in the village than on the training grounds with a bow in his hand. He never even seemed interested in hand to hand combat or knife training. Always surrounded by girls, flirting and giving them false hope before moving on to the next.

It angered Neteyam sometimes because that was all he did in his free time. Work. Train. Get better. Do better, and help out. Some days, he ran around the village offering aid to those that needed it. Whether that was carrying logs back to some old woman’s hut or giving lessons to the younger warriors that were anxious enough to learn. There wasn’t a single second he didn’t spend doing something. That couldn’t be said about Kanu. He blew off his obligations, and maybe Neteyam could admit he was a tad bit jealous of him. Jealous that his father didn’t quite have as big of a stick up his ass like his own father. It felt unfair, and he was sick of being around someone that tended to unintentionally shove his privilege in his face all the time.

It was exhausting, and it was about time he’d had enough of it.

Kanu could tell looking at his old friend that there was more to it than what was on the surface of his mind.

He gently pushed Neteyam’s pointed finger away, and shook his head, “Your fight is not with me, brother.” Neteyam looked confused, like he wanted to say something but Kanu continued, “It is with yourself, but I say we should stop wasting time going and forth and just go train.” He then smirked before playfully boxing at his friend’s shoulder, “Let’s direct your anger towards something useful, yeah?”

Kanu was good at that. Diffusing tension by cracking a joke or two. As annoying as it was, it always seemed to work on him.

With a deep sigh, Neteyam nodded. He needed to take his mind off of a lot of things, and what better way to do that than beat his best friend in an innocent game of friendly fire? Good thing he was an expert with a bow. Well, maybe not so good for Kanu. He was more of a runner. Made for good target practice though.

Suddenly, he smirked. He couldn’t wait.

Kanu frowned at the disturbing look on Neteyam’s face, watching him walk past him towards the training grounds again. He visibly shivered. He could feel it. This wasn’t going to be good for him but at least he had a good chance at surviving whatever hellish game Neteyam was up to. He was fast, and could handle whatever he threw at him.

Literally.

He just hoped the guy would have the decency to miss his face. He had a date later tonight, and didn’t want to run her off before he got the chance to put some moves on her.

Neteyam glanced back at him, a brow raised in expectancy, “Are you coming?”

Kanu jumped at the sound of his voice, and squeaked out a quick, “Yep, coming!” before he jogged forward to catch up to him. He shook his head, mumbling a prayer to himself, “Please let me walk away with my head still intact. Please, oh great mother.”

Click.

Scribble. Scribble. Scribble.

Click.

Scribble. Scribble.

Click. Click. Click.

Scribble. Pause.

You inhaled, and stopped writing. Annoyed that you were interrupted by the constant camera flashes, you side eyed the young boy that stood in front of a tall tree. He had one eye open, looking through his camera lens as he watched a pack of prolemuris swing from branch to branch. He smiled to himself. They were such outstanding creatures. Weren’t aggressive, but curious little things. Perhaps he could get another shot or tw–

“Theo, don’t you think you’ve taken enough pictures?” You sighed, shutting your journal, disappointed that your thought process was no longer there. For the past ten minutes, you fought to focus on what you were writing about, but ultimately lost the battle due to the distraction. You needed peace and quiet, and were getting the exact opposite. “Jesus, you’ve taken at least 200 shots by now and we haven’t even moved from this area yet. Take a break, will ya’?”

“Yeah,” Theo tugged the camera down from his face with a sheepish smile, awkwardly hugging it as he looked around, “Sorry. It’s just,” his gaze glossed over the fauna and other animals in the nearby area unbothered by their presence, munching on the grass. “This place. It’s…magical. Feel like if I don’t capture it all, then I’ll forget it someday.” You sent him a strange look. He coughed, “You know, get Alzheimer’s or something?”

“Mhm,” You grunted as you stood to your feet, almost wishing that you had come out alone instead. Maybe you would have been able to finish your journal entry by now. “Yeah. Know what you mean. Let’s just head back to the lab then, yeah?” You patted his shoulder but didn’t wait for a response when you began to step through the tall grass and wide leaves that surrounded the both of you. “Plus, we have some distance to cover. I don’t want to be stuck out here close to dark, so come on.”

Theo looked around him once more, thinking about being stranded out in the forest at night. He shivered. The mere thought of it was something out of his nightmares.

He quickly stepped forward, foot almost getting caught on a tree root, “Yes, ma’am!” and caught up to you.

Pandora was a beautiful planet. Home to some of the most extraordinary animals and plants you’d ever seen. It was sad that Earth was nothing like Pandora. It became overpopulated, and was dying from the amount of chemicals released into the air due to the overproduction of extremely harmful products. Mass production had always been an issue back on earth, but with overpopulation on the rise — it became a bigger problem than before. There was no other solution than to leave, and find another start elsewhere.

Full of life and vibrancy. Everywhere you turned, you were greeted with some sort of living, breathing thing. The entire forest was alive.

Theo was right. Pandora was magical, and there were still parts of it that you hadn’t seen just yet.

You longed to travel around, and see what was outside of the forest. Wondered if there were any sea animals and what they were like. Different environments, different plants, different everything. Your mind buzzed with the endless possibilities, not paying attention to your harebrained partner.

Theo stumbled behind you, eyes on everything around him. He was mesmerized by life on Pandora, and wanted to capture it all with his little digital camera. He took a few shots of some wild plants then another couple of a low hanging tree with some sort of fruit growing from it.

“Cool,” he breathed, and walked closer to get a better look at it.

Just then, a yerik came stepping out of the bushes just a few yards in front of him, where he was headed. He stopped in his tracks, and instantly crouched down behind some thick leaves. He held his breath, and paid no mind to you walking further and further away. He needed to get a picture. He just had to.

A few insects started to circle you, buzzing in annoyance. “Ugh,” you swatted at them, stepping over a puddle of mud, “Theo, we really need to pick up the pace. Bugs like this only start coming out when it gets late so let’s try and find a detour and…” once you realized that you weren’t hearing footsteps behind you, you turned around and your mouth dropped. “Theo?” Your heart pounded in your chest. Had something happened to him? Where did he go? He was just behind you.

“Theo!”

He heard something in the distance and looked at the direction but was brought back when he noticed the yerik moving further away. He cursed under his breath, and shifted his pack back over his shoulder. A little closer. He just needed to get a little closer, and get one good shot. He figured you couldn’t have gotten too far away. He’d catch up to you. He wasn’t worried in the slightest.

“Fuck,” you trudged back the way you came, dodging the low wide leaves in your way with a grunt, “Knew he shouldn’t have come. I fucking knew it,” you muttered to yourself.

As annoying as your partner could be sometimes, you couldn’t live without him. He was around five years younger than you, and clung to you like a little brother. Naturally, you felt a bit protective over him and didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him.

Norm thought it would’ve been a good idea for him to come out and take some pictures. Moping about the lab was getting a little depressing. It was bothering everyone so it was mutually and collectively agreed upon that he went out with you for just a few hours, then came back.

However, you started to regret letting him tag along. If something horrible happened to him, you would only blame yourself. Meant to keep eyes on him at all times, yet failing at something so simple as that. It was your fault. You were the reason he was lost.

“Theo!” You tried to call out for him again, but was met with the same silence.

Even though you were able to retrace your steps, he was nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, you weren’t taught how to track so you didn’t have the first clue how to find him. Before leaving the outpost, you’d foolishly told Theo to leave the wristband comms behind, saying that the two of you wouldn’t be gone long enough to need them. While out in the forest, Theo could get easily sidetracked so they would’ve been useful.

You cursed under your breath. Unfortunately, you couldn’t spend that much time looking for him. You had to find your own way back and hope he would do the same. It was going to get dark in a few hours. Even though the forest was illuminated by its natural bioluminescence at night, it was still best you started heading back. Theo wasn’t incompetent. He knew how to defend himself, and unfortunately he had the pack with the weapons in them. Just two combat knives and some other miscellaneous defensive weapons. Still, you had none. You were in more danger than he was.

“Great,” Your head sharply turned at a faint sound to your right, watching a pack of birds fly up to the sky. Relieved that it wasn’t some predator watching you from the shadows, you released a sigh, feeling a bead of sweat roll down the side of your face, “Just great.”

If you made it back in one piece, you had half a mind to promise yourself to never go back out into the forest again.

Neteyam considered himself an expert in the art of forgiveness.

“Stop, I didn’t mean to!” Kanu shouted at the top of his lungs as he ran as fast as his long legs would carry him, “It was a mistake, brother! A mistake!” When he looked back to lock eyes with Neteyam, catching a fiery look that he was all too familiar with, he couldn’t help but belt out a laugh, tossing his head back, “For Eywa’s sake, give me a break!”

However, whenever it came to Kanu and his repeated nonsense…he was not so forgiving.

It took a while but when Neteyam finally caught up to him, he grabbed him by the neck and forced him down to the ground, face first. Kanu grunted, feeling his friend hover over a pressure point.

“Run from me again, and see what happens,” Neteyam growled in his ear.

Kanu turned his head to the side where he could see Neteyam’s face, smirking, “Do not kid yourself, brother. Next time, you will not catch me.”

Neteyam raised a brow, “Oh, is that so?” He wrapped Kanu’s tail around his forearm and gripped it in his hand before he yanked it. Hard, “You sure are confident in yourself. Don’t provoke me.”

Kanu howled out, tapping the ground.

“Okay, okay! I won’t run, I understand! Please!”

“Hm,” Neteyam let him go and stood up, still looking down at him, “If you’re done playing games, I would like to go back to training.”

Kanu stood up, and dusted himself off the best that he could. Some stains were a little harder to get rid of, but he didn’t care all that much. It was what was in his mouth that he was more concerned about. He frowned, and spat out a few specs of dirt that got on his tongue.

“Ugh,” he gagged, almost positive that he had swallowed some of it already.

Eager to get back to work, Neteyam walked away, going back over to his bow that he’d been forced to toss in order to chase his friend around. Kanu sighed, and placed his hands on his hips as he watched him.

“Hey, question.”

“I have an answer,” After retrieving his bow, he walked over to the tree next to it to pull an arrow out of the wood then moved on to do the same to the next.

“Does becoming olo’eyktan someday frighten you? Even just a little?”

Neteyam grunted once he pulled the final arrow out of a tree. He stood in front of it, pondering on the question.

Becoming olo’eyktan was one of the most important roles of the na’vi. One of the greatest opportunities as the first born son of a clan leader.

For as long as Neteyam could remember, he’d always wanted to become a leader someday. Had dreamt many nights of leading his people into boundless prosperity, keeping the peace within all of the existing clans. Being remembered as one of the greatest omiticayan leaders ever known. As soon as he began to realize the work that had to go into being fully prepared to take on such a role — his aspirations for his future started to waver with uncertainty. It wasn’t just the work but what would come with being a leader that he didn’t foresee.

That was taking on a mate.

He couldn’t be a leader without having someone to help him lead by his side. Where he thought he could do it all alone as he had since he was young was nothing but hopeful wishing. Mostly to be able to produce an heir just in case something tragic happened to him. It wasn’t ever forced, but it was recommended.

Being the olo’eyktan’s oldest and most proudest son didn’t mean he held the privilege to take over his father’s leadership without a mate. It was unavoidable. He had to do it, and soon. So his mother told him.

Neteyam blinked, and turned around to face Kanu with a blank expression, “No. It doesn’t frighten me. Why would it? I look forward to the day that I can finally lead our people and take on the perfect mate to lead by my side. How can one not be thrilled by such an opportunity?”

“That’s a lie,” Kanu said, frowning.

Neteyam narrowed his eyes at him, “A lie? What reason would I have to lie? You know that I want to be a leader for our peopl—”

“True, but you cannot say you are thrilled to be tied down to someone you may not love.”

The rumors were just rumors…or so Neteyam had assumed anyway.

His mother was adamant on making sure he found a mate before he became olo’eyktan. A good way to ensure his place as the clan’s leader was arranging him a mate. It sounded outrageous and utterly unnecessary to him because he believed that she would never do that to him. She wouldn’t condemn him to someone he didn’t know, and would be expected to love. She was his mother. She always expressed how she wanted the best for him. Damning him to a woman he’d never met…it didn’t sound like her. He refused to believe it.

Neteyam snorted, a smirk playing at his lips, “It’s just like you to believe every rumor that you hear.”

Kanu shook his head, “and it is just like you to pretend to not see what is so clearly in front of you.”

Neteyam walked up to him, getting in his face, “Yeah you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Kanu swallowed, looking him in the eye, “And what would be your role in all of this, hm? Surely you wouldn’t just be some innocent bystander. No… Of course not,” he gave a breathless chuckle, jaw clenched, “I wonder… I wonder how you would aid my mother in determining my fate and ruining my life because rest assured,” he took a step back before he turned around, scoffing, “It would destroy me.”

Kanu’s ears flattened at that. He was right. Mating with someone you didn’t love… It was a fate worse than death itself. To live a life being with someone with no connection to them, starting a family and growing old with that person— Kanu couldn’t imagine a life like that for himself, but maybe that was what differed between him and Neteyam. Kanu had it a lot easier compared to him. He didn’t have to worry about his parents shoving him into an arranged mating. He was privileged, in that aspect. He could see that clearly now.

“Brother,” Kanu took an apprehensive step forward, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him, “Forgive me. Understand that the last thing I want to see is you living a life that you are unhappy with. I do not wish for an arranged mating. I want you to be happy.”

Neteyam arched his brow as he peered up at his friend. There was a sorrowful look on his face. It made Neteyam laugh.

“Don’t worry, I believe you,” he bumped into his shoulder before dropping the arrows in his hand, save for one, back into his quiver, “Now, are you ready to get back to training or should I leave you to let you go and pick a tree to cry behind?”

When Kanu locked eyes with him, he growled at the teasing smile on his face. Kanu smirked, cocking his head to the side, “Hope you’re ready this time because I won’t go easy.”

Neteyam drew an arrow against the string of his bow, aimed at him, “Neither will I,” and let the arrowhead pierce through the wind.

By lunch time, Neteyam was burnt out from training.

Deciding to take a break for now, Kanu left to go and do whatever it was Kanu did when he didn’t have anything to do while Neteyam headed back into the village to meet up with his father for his usual hunting lessons with him.

Not that he needed the lessons anymore, but recently, it’d been more about bonding with him than actually hunting. Helping him with catching supper for everyone while talking to him about things. Mostly about the past and the future. What it had been like for his father as the new olo’eyktan of the omaticaya clan back then, and what Neteyam could expect as his successor. There wasn’t much Jake could teach him now. It was more about letting him gain those experiences so that he could lead better when it came time for him to.

Just as he was about to enter his parents hut, he stopped when he saw Kiri running up to him, Tuk in tow. He would’ve brushed her off, figuring that she was going to bother him with her usual drivel, but the look on her face got his attention. She looked like she’d seen a ghost or worse, a thanator.

With furrowed brows, he touched her arm, “Hey, what's the matter?”

For the first time since he could remember, she was silent. He could see the hesitation in her eyes as clear as day. She knew something or maybe she’d seen something. Either way, it had to have been terrible enough to keep her from blurting it out loud.

“Mom…she–” her lashes fluttered as her eyes fell to the ground below her, taking in a breath, “She invited some woman here, to our village,” looking back at him, she bit into her lip, “Mom said she’s going to be your mate, ‘teyam. I think this is the arranged mating I heard about, but I never thought she would actually go through with it.”

His arm fell back to his side. He stared at his sister, blood running cold.

So it was true, then.

He was expected to be with someone he didn’t know.

To love her, mate with her.

Sentence the rest of his days to someone he wouldn’t even have a connection with.

His fists balled up. He wasn’t going to allow this to happen. He loved and respected his mother, but he couldn’t let her dictate his life. He could make his own decisions, and this was one he was not going to let her control.

“Where are they?” He asked his sister and when she told him, he didn’t waste any time getting there.

Kiri could feel her brother’s anger, and hated that she couldn’t do a thing to help him. Arranged matings were rare. They became uncommon over the ages, and only used in certain situations. She didn’t see Neteyam as a situation. He just wanted to take his time. Become olo’eyktan, and then worry about something as minor as finding a mate later on in his life. It wasn’t nearly as serious as their mother was making it.

The tsahik’s hut.

Of course, Neteyam mentally seethed. Why go to him first? It wasn’t like he was supposed to meet the woman he was mated to be with for the rest of his life first, no. Course not.

Livid, he roughly lifted the flap up and ducked inside, letting his sisters in as well. He saw them chattering around the fire, his mother sitting next to a woman he’d never seen before. A woman he was supposed to refer to as his mate now. What a load of bullshit. He’d die over several times before he’d let something like this happen to him.

When he cleared his throat, their voices died down. All eyes were on him, standing tall with a tick in his jaw. He felt like he could explode at any minute now.

“My son,” Neytiri breathed excitedly as she quickly got on her feet and walked towards him, “It is good you are here,” she smiled, pressing her hand against the middle of his back, missing the tension in his muscles, “You are just in time.”

He looked at her, his emotions bouncing all around the hut in a flurry, “In time. In time for what, mother? In time to ruin my life, is that it?”

“Oh…I…” She blinked, taken aback by his interrogative tone. She glanced at the new faces in the hut, slightly embarrassed by his reaction. “Are you upset about something? I don’t understand wh–”

“Why I’m angry?” Neteyam asked her, chest visibly rising and falling. He needed to calm down, but he couldn’t. There was a faint ringing in his ears that kept growing louder and louder by the minute. Her act of betrayal made him lose control. His entire life had been planned and dictated. All he asked was for this one thing to be his. His choice, and his alone. Ever the controlling, overprotective mother that she could be, took that away from him. That was all he had left. Why wouldn’t he be upset? “You just will not let me make my own choices. I told you that I would find a mate. Maybe not now, but later. Later when I’ve decided to settle down. Me. Not you.”

Neytiri’s ears fell in slight shame. She had planned on letting Eywa determine her son’s fate, but when she’d heard that a nearby clan leader was looking for a mate for his daughter, she thought about Neteyam. How he would end up getting consumed with his duties as the new clan leader, and forget all about starting a life of his own. A family of his own. She was only looking out for him. Did he not see that? Did he not see that she was trying to do a good thing for him? For his future?

Jake watched the scene unfold until he couldn’t anymore, “Excuse me for a minute,” he told the clan leader before he got up, and walked over to his wife and son, “Hey.” Neytiri looked at him, but Neteyam didn’t. He hissed, and directed his gaze elsewhere, brows pulled in. Jake sighed, “Son, listen to me. Your mom’s got your best interest at heart. You know that. C’mon,” when he rested a hand on his son’s shoulder, Neteyam finally made eye contact. Jake smiled, “At least meet the girl. You might like her.”

To say that Jake approved of this arrangement would’ve been a bit far fetched. He didn’t approve, per say, he just saw no need to cause a scene over it. He found it incredibly rude for his son to walk in, and not even acknowledge the people that were there for him. To see, and meet him. His intended mate was elated to be formally introduced to him. Had heard all the stories, and knew they would be the perfect match. However, Neteyam barely even looked at her. One glance, and that was it. Jake could tell her spirits had been blown out like a candle now in the dark. It made him grimace. He felt a bit sorry for the girl, and wanted his son to be more welcoming despite how he felt about the situation.

“Let’s sit,” Jake patted Neteyam’s shoulder, gesturing him to cross around the fire, “We should talk, and get to know one another.”

Neteyam mentally sighed. He didn’t believe that there was anything to talk about because he didn’t want to be in an arranged mating but he held too much respect for his parents. It was best to just sit and listen.

As he was about to sit down next to the clan leader, the man directed him to the spot next to his daughter. She glanced up at him and when their eyes met, she looked away, shifting in place. Neteyam sat next to her, tail curling by his side so as to not touch hers (or any part of her, for that matter). It felt a bit awkward, but he chose to ignore his surroundings and pretend he was elsewhere.

Jake cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s attention, “This is my eldest son, Neteyam. Neteyam, this is Seynä Te Ayu Leyeyzo'ite. The chief’s youngest daughter and princess of the Ra’tecaya clan.”

Neteyam looked at the girl to his side, and pressed the tips of his fingers against his forehead, nodding, “Oel ngati kamie, Seynä te Ayu Leyeyzo’ite.”

She bloomed a tiny smile, repeating the same greeting, “Oel ngati kamie, Neteyam te Sulli Ts’yekitan. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The Ash tribe were exceptionally different from him and his people. They lived in the mountains, far away from the chaos of the rest of the world.

They were known for their strength in numbers, their well trained warriors and their strong leadership. Chief Tarang, one of the best clan leaders to ever live. He took great pride in many of their war achievements, having bested some of the strongest clans in history. As battle ready as the Ash tribe were, they were non-confrontational. Didn’t seek out war and destruction just because they were good at it. They valued peace and honor above all else. It was one of the reasons why Jake and Neytiri hoped Tarang’s daughter would take a liking to their son. A union between the omaticaya and the ra’tecaya clans would make them strong but also symbolize that two different clans could come together to form a good relationship. Something that hadn’t been done in decades.

It was to also prepare Neteyam to become olo’eyktan. He needed a mate, and needed someone strong and ready to be by his side when it was time for him to take his father’s place as clan leader. Neytiri knew that it was going to take a while for her son to come around with all of this, but she hoped that one day, he would understand.

“Great,” Tarang said, a big smile on his face before glancing between his daughter and Neteyam, “Perhaps these two could use the privacy?”

Ka’ul, the chief’s mate, hummed, placing a gentle hand over Tarang’s with a warm knowing smile of her own, “Yes. That would be wonderful.” Her vermillion eyes sparkled against the fire, creating flames of their own. Tarang turned his hand over to intertwine their fingers, and gave her a look. He then nodded at Jake and Neytiri.

“Then we can discuss the details.”

Neteyam could care less what they planned on talking about. If it was going to get him out of that stuffy hut then he was more than willing to leave them all to it.

Like a gentleman, he stood up and held out a hand. Seynä looked at him in mild shock but pushed it aside, and took his hand. Feeling how warm and soft it was, her mind wandered as he helped her up and led her out of the hut. When the cool afternoon breeze hit her, she breathed. The sun that slithered through the trees decorated her skin beautifully. She let her eyes close for a brief moment to soak it all in, missing the way Neteyam stared at her.

He would’ve been a fool to not notice how beautiful she was. Her long, white hair blew with the wind, splitting apart and dancing in its waves. How the two long beaded braids at the front curled around her neck and shoulders, desperate to join the rest of her hair in the current.

She looked otherworldly. She definitely stood out amongst the villagers, catching eyes from all around. They stopped in their tracks to stare at her, some men and women whispering amongst each other in awe. If Neteyam supported the arranged mating that he was in, his chest would’ve swelled with pride for the attention that she was garnishing. He would’ve stepped closer to her, drew her near to him and walked her through the village to show her around but to also show her off. Would feel proud to call her his, but unfortunately, he didn’t feel that way about her.

From the intricate jewelry in her hair and what laid on her forehead down to her specially made white top and long white loincloth, she was a beauty beyond compare. Now that they were back under the sun’s bright rays, he could see that her eyes were a mixture of fire and gold. How dull her skin looked, almost an ash color. Not blue like him and his people were, but a faint blue. Barely noticeable, if he wasn’t staring so hard.

“Will you show me around?” She asked him, a twinkle in her eyes, startling him. He quickly averted his eyes, and cleared his throat.

“Yes, of course,” and took the lead once again.

Their trek through the village was a quiet one. It was awkward and tense for him but she was at peace, eyeing the villagers back and smiling at the children that followed them, oohing and aahing after her. Neteyam felt like falling through the earth. He didn’t care for the extra attention, and didn’t want anything to do with having a mate right now but truthfully, there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn’t dumb. He knew that his parents and hers were going over the fine print of their arrangement by making a pänu. A promise between clans to seal the deal. There was no breaking a pänu unless you meant war.

Neteyam couldn’t back out of it no matter what his feelings were about the situation, and that was why he’d gotten upset with his mother earlier. A mixture of things, but mainly because he remembered how sacred an arranged mating was. That was another reason why it wasn’t very common now. It wasn’t something clans practiced anymore unless they were forced to.

He mentally sighed. His life had just gotten a lot harder.

“How do you feel about this arrangement?” She suddenly asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Well…”

She giggled, and nodded, “Right. Better question. How do you feel about being mated to me for life?”

He sent her a strained look that only made her laugh. She figured that was her answer.

“Mmm, your village feels like home,” she muttered, steering the conversation elsewhere, “Reminds me of what I left today.” They passed by a hut with an older woman sitting outside of it, weaving together what looked to be a basket of some sort. A child was sitting next to her, seeming to help her by supplying her with the materials she needed. Seynä nodded at the two, giggling at the child’s shocked expression. She directed her attention forward again, walking gracefully, “A home away from home sounds like a dream, don’t you think?” She looked at him, finding his profile rather distracting.

Neteyam didn’t feel like engaging in a meaningless conversation, but he didn’t want to be rude. His father would only dig into him about not being fully welcoming, so he indulged her.

“Do you like it here so far?” He asked her back, wondering if she would have to sleep with him tonight since they were going to be a mated pair. He hoped not. He wanted to hang onto his free will for a little while longer.

Seynä hummed, looking at her surroundings again. “I do. It is pleasant. Very lively, unlike my village. We are…” she searched for the right words, eyebrows twitching together, “…fairly independent people. We stay to ourselves, and do not mingle often. Even the way your family sat by the fire back there,” the light in her eyes dimmed in thought, “We do not do that.”

At first, Neteyam didn’t care to converse with her but as he listened to her speak, he found himself unable to block her out. Maybe it was the sadness in her voice that he wanted to soothe. To let her know how repentant he felt for her. He had to admit, not spending several moments around his family everyday sounded miserable. He was also quite independent, but he liked being around his parents and siblings. They were a part of the sole reason he woke up everyday. Not just for himself, but for them. Their happiness, their well-being, all of that mattered a lot to him. The way Seynä spoke about her people and her family and the way they did things — it couldn’t have sounded any more heartbreaking than that.

He schooled his features to remain indifferent, but there was a twinge of pain inside. He didn’t know what that was like, but he didn’t have to know to understand what life had been like for her. He could sympathize.

“Well you’re here now,” he commented, feeling her eyes shift back to the side of his face, “and because you are here,” he looked down at her, a corner of his lips twitching up, “–you will get to experience all of that yourself. Know what it is like to wake up together, hunt and eat together, celebrate and dance around the fire…together.” Seynä’s lips parted at his kind words, her heart thumping in her chest. “A home away home, is that how you put it?” He smirked, humming, “I guess this is where you are meant to be then.”

Was it foolish of her to feel this way about someone so early on? She had only just met the man… But something was there. She could feel it. This compelling pull towards him. It was undeniable. There was something about him that called to her. Something that she couldn’t describe.

The feeling of finding a mate was a special one. It was a different for everyone, but it usually centered around seeing that person over everyone else. Like a light had come from the sky, shining down on just them. That was how she knew.

Right then and there, she knew that he was the one.

That he was her mate.

She cut their eye contact short by ripping away from his gaze, finding the ground she walked on a little more interesting. The tips of her ears burned.

“Thank you, Neteyam. You’re too kind.”

He hummed, peering forward with his hands behind his back, “No need to thank me. I know this union isn’t wanted by either of us, but we have to make the most of it or else we will just end up resenting each other,” he watched a group of children run past the two of them, giggling and chasing one another, “I, for one, do not want to spend the rest of my life hating someone I am supposed to love,” When he glanced down at her, he found her eyes back on him again. They were swirling with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “So I will try my best to love you, provide for you and protect you. But know that this is not what I wanted for myself. You will not be alienated from me, but I cannot promise my heart to you. I will not cheat or lie. I will be faithful to you, but giving my heart…” he shook his head, returning his focus back ahead, eyes hardened, “That is something I will not promise to give you. I cannot.”

Just as soon as she’d felt a pull towards him, she was immediately pushed back. Reality hit her harder than she could’ve expected. He didn’t share the same feelings as her. He didn’t even want this arranged mating to even happen. He didn’t want to love her, didn’t want to give her his heart, didn’t want any part of her or this entire ordeal.

On the outside, she kept her composure and watched him walk ahead of her, thankful that he’d set his back to her because she didn’t know how long she could keep the tears back. All she wanted since she was a little girl was to find the sort of love that her parents had. A connection made from the stars, kissed by Eywa herself. Even though their mating was arranged, she believed that there was still a chance for them. She thought that he just needed to see her, and would fall in love with her at first sight. But that didn’t happen. He couldn’t have shown his revulsion for their arrangement more clearer to her than he had.

Once he was done showing her around, he was going to offer her lunch that he had picked himself earlier but she told him that she’d started to feel unwell. That she needed to lay down for a while. He figured it was because of the long trip her family made across the plains so he nodded, and wished her well. She didn’t say anything but smiled, and went on her way. He didn’t notice how forced her smile had been because he was relieved to be back in his own presence again. Kanu wasn’t around and he’d just gotten rid of Seynä so he was rejoicing.

However, he couldn’t get it out of his head that he was going to be forced to mate with someone he didn’t even know, that he didn’t even have an initial connection with. Seynä wasn’t his type. Not by a long shot. He’d heard about her accomplishments as a warrior and knew that she was strong, but her personality didn’t match him. Didn’t match what he was looking for. Plus, there was no spark. No banter, no meaningless arguing about nothing and no playfulness, even though he could come off quite stiff himself. He enjoyed the teasing comments and such, but he got none of that from her. It was disappointing, but expected because he didn’t choose her. His mother did.

His teeth clenched again at that. It was going to take him a long time to move past her deceit, but he had to preoccupy himself with other things until then. And, perhaps, keep contact with her at a minimum, if he could help it.

Deciding that a breath of fresh air was needed to think without being bothered, he headed off into the forest in hopes to clear his mind, but had no clue what he was going to end up finding whilst on the trail.

“Fuck this.”

You crumpled up the map in your hands before shoving it back in your pack. It was useless when you had no clue where you even were at this point. Everything looked the same. You were almost positive that you’d gone in a circle a few times.

A map that was supposed to lead you back to the lab. What a laugh. You’d been roaming around the forest for so long, you knew that Theo must’ve made it back by now. If you were caught under the dark night sky, you hoped that he would relay the message that you were still out and definitely lost. Maybe some reinforcements would come running to your rescue or something.

“This is not happening,” You said under your breath, plunging a boot into a muddy puddle, forgetting about dodging them now. You were much too tired to think about anything but escaping the forest and getting back to the outpost.

With a grim sigh, you shifted the pack back down your shoulder to reach in it. You pulled out your water canister, hoping that there was still some left. Theo had used it last, but before he could’ve downed the entire thing, you snatched it away from him. So, there was a good chance he’d left some. Putting it up to your lips, you were disappointed. Nothing. Just as you’d feared.

Your eyes begrudgingly searched the area for a water source, but found nothing. You stumbled forward, mindful of your step, and tried to listen for a river or something near. The silence was deafening.

It seemed as though the forest was against you, but you weren’t ready to give up just yet.

It wasn’t hot, but paired with walking for hours non stop with no water and carrying a pack on your back the entire time could feel a little stifling. After a few tiresome steps, you leaned your shoulder up against a nearby tree, taking a small break. There had to be some sort of water source around. You’d come across plenty of animals to be sure of it. Surely they wouldn’t flock somewhere that didn’t contain a river or even a small stream. Hell, you’d take rain at this point. Anything to keep you from passing out.

Spurring you from your thoughts, you heard something. Craning your neck, you peered up into the trees above you, eyes squinted to fend off some of the sun rays. Aside from the rustling tree leaves, you didn’t see much movement. Maybe it’d just been a figment of your imagination. You didn’t doubt it. Without food or water, you were going a little delirious.

Just as you were about to give up and set up camp, another sound caught your attention.

Trickling.

Water?

You sprung off of the tree, and trampled through some low hanging leaves until you were met with a wide stream up ahead. The water was clear enough to see through, telling you that it was safe to drink from. There even looked to be fishes swimming through the water. You knew how to catch fish, skin them and cook them so you felt lucky. Though, for now, you were just grateful for the water.

“Thank god,” you walked forward and let your pack slip from your shoulder as you dropped down in front of the bank, hands pushing off into the water.

You cupped a good amount in your hands, and drank until you couldn’t anymore. Once you felt satisfied enough, you leaned back and sighed. The mud that covered your shirt made you cringe, looking down at it. You’d tripped earlier, landing right in a pile of mud. With no way to clean it, you kept it on but now that you could, you didn’t waste any time tugging it over your head to wash it.

You shoved it in the water, and started to wash through it, not caring if it came out perfectly clean or not. You just needed to remove most of the mud so it wouldn’t feel uncomfortable when you put it back on.

Too distracted to notice, Neteyam sat crouched in a tree not too far from where you were stationed. He kept himself hidden, watching you. He’d been following you for a while now. Initially, he’d wanted to take a walk to think some things over but didn’t expect to come across a wandering human that was covered in mud, griping to herself. Odd scene, but curious enough.

A human, this far out, was peculiar enough but seeing you by the stream wearing nothing but a small piece of fabric to cover your breasts was enough to stir something in him. It was strange because he was used to his people wearing so little. There was nothing ever sexual about it, but you were human. He knew that your kind tended to wear a lot more than his people did. So, to see so much of your skin under the sun’s pure sunlight, unaware of him watching you the way he was — it made him unable to look away.

His tail curled at the sight of you looking around you before unhooking your bra. You set it at a spot where the sun could catch it, and pulled your drenched shirt from the water. After inspecting it, you nodded and put it near the other piece of fabric, right on the rocks. Then, you stood up, and shoveled through your pack for something. When you faced Neteyam’s way, for some reason, he looked away. His eyes fell elsewhere, embarrassed that he’d been staring at you. He didn’t know why. You had no clue he was even there so why did he care?

After finding whatever it was you were looking for, you turned back around, back facing him again. He sighed, and looked down at you again to watch you wrap a long strip of what looked to be some sort of cloth around your midriff up to your chest. It didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen, but it seemed as though you were using it to cover your chest again. Ah. He knew what you were doing now. Your shirt was too damp to put back on so you were letting it dry, as well as that other piece of clothing you’d had over your chest.

Once you were done with that, you moved on to stepping into the stream, after you’d taken your boots off. He imagined that you were getting ready to clean your feet or some other part of your body but what he witnessed next surprised him.

You stood there for a good minute, completely still. So still, if he looked hard enough, the fishes in the water forgot that you weren’t supposed to be there and swam past you. You held your breath, staring down at the water as you timed you just right. Once a good sized fish swam between your legs, you dove down and caught it with your bare hands. Neteyam’s eyes widened at the sight. Without the use of a bow or a knife, you’d caught a fight with your hands. He was greatly impressed. He didn’t think humans possessed intelligence this vast.

You cheered to yourself and tiptoed out of the water, happily with your meal. After killing it merifully, you dug through your bag again. Pulling out a sharp knife, you went back over and began scaling it.

Neteyam sat down on the branch he was on, and leaned his back against the tree, eyes still on you. He placed his bow in between his thighs, and got comfortable. He had a feeling he was going to be there for a while.

While he watched you, there was someone else lurking in the trees watching him.

The moment that you realized that you weren’t alone was the exact same moment you watched a tall blue man jump from above, bow raised to save your life.

Because he’d saved you, he came out of the attack with a deep wound. He was reluctant to help you, but after some time, he let you into his personal space to treat him. Once it was cleaned and bandaged up, you thanked him and packed up. You were going to finish finding your way through the forest, but he’d suddenly picked you up and packed you off into the trees.

Breathless and surprised, you tried to ask him what that had been about but noticed that he’d saved you. Again. You were grateful, of course, but he was a stubborn one. Also a bit childish with the way he kept provoking you to get upset, obviously enjoying your reaction to him. Even though he was way taller than you and evidently stronger, you still held your ground well and told him exactly what was on your mind. He found it amusing and a little brazen, but he didn’t back down either.

“It sounds like he’s calling for you,” you mentioned again, taking a step forward, “Why don’t you go down and talk to hi–”

You didn’t expect him to catch you in time, but he did. Held you close against him, making sure you weren’t going to slip from his grasp. He was warm, that was your first thought. Then, you thought about how odd it was to feel his nose against your neck. You could hear a faint inhale from him, and wondered why he was smelling you. Did you have an odor? Well, you had been walking around the forest for a few hours under a hot sun and didn’t have access to a shower anywhere so maybe you did. It made you want to curl up in embarrassment.

You struggled in his grasp, feeling awkward now, “What are you doing?” You tried to ask, but no answer.

Your face twisted up in surprise when you felt something hot and wet slide across your skin. With another gasp, you tried to pull away from him but he held you against him in a tight grip.

“No,” he commanded in a deep tone, and ran his tongue up to your ear, “be still, tawtute.”

The deep tone of his voice, the growling, it made you feel shameful because instead of being scared — you were awfully turned on.

That realization only made you try and get out of his hold all the more.

You struggled in his grasp, trying to get a look at his face, “What the hell is your problem?”

He didn’t respond, and it angered you.

“Hey,” you tried again, finally allowed wiggle room to look at him, eyes searching his face with a frown, “why did you–ah!” You were dropped back on your feet, but didn’t have time to find your footing. With a scream, you fell backwards off of the tree branch and soared down.

The fall felt longer than it was. There was no part in you that felt like you were going to make it. That you were going to survive falling from such a great height. You’d said your little prayers, and to your surprise — they were answered.

Caught by another beautiful blue man, peering down at you with wild curiosity.

“Pesu? A tawtute?”

Kanu was his name. Friendly, chatty and very flirty. At least he seemed bearable in conversation compared to the other guy. Someone that had just been all up on you a moment ago but walked a ways ahead like he didn’t want to even be near you. Kanu talking to you the entire way to the village didn’t silence the buzzing thoughts of what you’d done to make his friend hate you all of the sudden. It didn’t make sense, and you aimed to ask him about it at some point.

However, the moment that the three of you entered the village, you were pulled from your thoughts and stared back at the villagers staring at you. Kanu walked past them without even acknowledging them and when you looked up at him, you noticed that he wasn’t wearing his usual smile. His eyes were hard and focused, lips tight, and shoulders tensed. He almost looked a little uncomfortable, but also annoyed by something. Was it the villagers? You could hear some of them whispering but of course, you were unable to understand what they were saying. Maybe he could hear them.

“Kanu–”

“Neteyam, will the tsahik see her?” Kanu asked his friend, his frown deepening, unintentionally interrupting you, “She is a sky person. She is not welcomed, but she is wounded. Will she treat her?”

Neteyam grunted without looking back at him, “I don’t know. For her sake, let’s hope so.”

You didn’t understand what was going on or what they were saying so you remained quiet for the rest of the way.

Once the three of you arrived at a hut, Neteyam opened the flap and held it as Kanu carried you inside. It was warm. There was a fire lit in the middle, and a woman near a table at the other side of the hut, mixing something. You stayed silent, eyes following Neteyam as he crossed over to her, saying something to her too low for you to catch. You waited, and when she turned around to look at you, her eyes widened.

She looked at Neteyam, “She is wounded, you say?” He nodded.

“Yes, grandmother. She is in need of your aid. Could you…?”

Mo’at nodded, turning back around to gather her supplies, “Oh yes, of course. Set her down on the mat over there, and have her remove her shirt. I will need full access to that wound to clean it.”

Kanu, having heard the conversation, moved around the fire as well to set you down on the mat he was told to. When he made a move to stand up, you grabbed his arm with a small, confused frown.

“What is going on?”

Kanu smiled, and bent back down, extremely close to your face. You made a move to back up, but he placed a hand at your nape to keep you there, “Mmm, you are going to be treated, little one. You are hurt, but the tsahik can help you. Do as she says, and you will be fine. Okay?”

Feeling butterflies in your stomach, you gave him a slow, subtle nod to show that you understood him. Satisfied, he pinched your cheek and stood back up, rounding the fire to stand at the other side of the hut to give Mo’at the space that she would need to treat you.

As Mo’at was still busy gathering what she would need to help, you watched Neteyam bend down at your other side, fingering at your shirt. You inched away, not knowing what he was trying to do, disregarding the smirk that slowly spread across his face.

“Shy, are we? One with such a filthy mouth shouldn’t be so shy, am I right?”

He thumbed at the edge of your shirt again, tugging at it, causing you to try and smack his hand away, flushed from head to toe, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but why are you trying to take my shirt off? I would very much like to keep it on, thank you.”

Neteyam chuckled, leaning back a bit, “Do not think I would like to see a tawtute like you naked. Would much rather pluck out my own eyes than see something so…” he eyed you down, finding the way you were protecting yourself from his touch amusing. “…displeasing.”

You gasped, and he almost laughed. “Displeasing? Well why don’t you leave if you don’t want to see me? No one’s forcing you to stay.”

He snorted, “I know, trust me.” He was going to elaborate further on why he really couldn’t leave your side, but that was a conversation that needed to be saved for later. “Anyway,” he pulled at your shirt again, smiling at the slap across his hand again, “You have to take this off. She has to treat you. She cannot do so with this on.”

You frowned, “Yeah, but the wound is on my leg. Why would I need to take my shirt off if I don’t–”

Neteyam ignored your protesting and pushed your shirt up to reveal a fairly large scratch across your abdomen. How you didn’t at least feel it by now, you had no idea but you stared in awe at it. You couldn’t help but entertain the thought that maybe you had a few more injuries on your body that you weren’t even aware of.

He grunted, and folded his arms.

“See? Remove it.” He stood up, eyes never leaving you, “Or don’t let her help you. Your choice.” He walked to stand beside Kanu, a bored expression now on his face.

You pouted to yourself, feeling silly for being so difficult. At first, you thought that he was trying to see something else but he was only trying to help you. Still, it didn’t make up for the fact that he had let you fall out of the tree earlier. You planned on never letting him live that down.

Just as you were about to undress, you saw the flap of the hut fly open and a woman walk in. She was beautiful, if you didn’t count the chaotic look on her face.

“Oh great mother, Neteyam!” She raced towards him, and pulled him into a tight hug. He smiled a little, and hugged back but tried to pull away.

“Mother, it’s fine. I’m okay–”

“Where did you go?” She asked him, brows pulled down in an angry frown, pulling back to look him over, “You were gone for hours, my son. What happened?”

He was going to respond when he saw Seynä, and her parents walk in. They must’ve heard the rumors about a human in the village and it was so late at night, of course they got curious. He couldn’t blame them, but the last person he wanted to see right now was Seynä.

She gave him a tiny smile that he didn’t reciprocate. He wasn’t in the mood. It was late, and he had you to deal with.

He could feel a headache coming on.

“Neteyam!”

Tuk came running out from behind her mother, and hugged his waist. He gently patted her head with a soft smile.

“Tuk.”

Kiri waltzed in, and was about to say something snarky when her eye caught yours. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

“Whoa, who’s that?”

Neytiri turned her head your way, and it was as if the room had been struck by lightning. No one said a word. It was like everyone had stopped breathing all at the same time. If not for the crackling of the fire that separated you from her, it would have been dead silent.

Her stare was cold. Scarier than anyone you’d ever seen.

Within a split second, she was rushing towards you with her fangs bared, hissing.

“Woah there,” Jake stepped in her way, physically holding her back, “Let’s take a second, yeah?” He caught Neteyam’s eye who looked ready to jump in at any second. Neytiri tried to push Jake out of the way, but he held her firm, “Hey,” he blocked her sight of you by getting in her face, “Stop, okay? What are you doing? We don’t do that. We don’t attack unless we have a good reason to, right?”

“Why are you protecting that demon?!” She asked him, eyes feral and wide, “You dare to stand in my way, to put yourself between a human and your mate?!”

Jake took a glance behind him at you, silently apologizing for the situation and looked back at her, “Yes. She’s harmless. Neteyam and Kanu would not have brought her here if they didn’t trust her so we have to trust her too.”

Neytiri hissed in his face, and broke out of his grasp. She didn’t take the opportunity to advance on you, but she held her ground, “Do not tell me to trust. I trust who I trust, and that thing will not get it from me.”

You’d long put the puzzle together that she was Neteyam’s mother and that Jake, the one you’d heard so much about, was his father. The great Toruk Makto and his warrior mate, Neytiri. Knowing this, it hurt to watch her get so upset by your mere presence. You knew that it was because you were human. You’d learned from Max and Norm that Neytiri wasn’t quite fond of humans and was on edge everytime one had to come strutting through her village. Understandably so, if what you heard about what happened to her family was true. Mo’at was her only living relative from those dark times. Of course, with kids now, she was grateful, but she missed the ones she’d lost. She had no plans of losing anyone else, and tensed up around sky people for a reason.

Under everyone’s radar, Tuk moseyed over to you. Startling you, she smiled and apologized for the scare. She bent down, seeing that she felt a bit too tall standing up in comparison to you, and nodded.

“My name is Tuk. It is nice to meet you. What is your name?”

Still shaken up, you hesitantly told her your name and she gasped, “Pretty! Can I give you a nickname?”

You tilted your head, “Nickname? Well…I don’t see why not,” you smiled back and her eyes widened.

“Okay! I will think of one, and tell you later, okay?”

Her bright spirit and infectious energy made you almost forget that you were in the same room as the woman that wanted nothing more than to murder you right where you sat.

You nodded, “I can’t wait.”

Tuk beamed happily and was going to say something when she was caught off.

“I will need all of you to leave,” Mo’at said aloud, peering over her shoulder at the group still circled around the fire pit near you, “I will need to heal and dress her wounds. The girl deserves privacy, no?”

Jake’s eyes darted from his children to Neytiri before he placed a hand at her back, ignoring the pointed look she gave him, “Come on everyone, let’s head out and give her some air. Tuk?”

Tuk blew out an exasperated breath, stood up from your side and nodded, “Okay,” she said in a dispirited tone and followed after her father but not before sending you a wave and a small smile, “See you tomorrow.”

You smiled and waved back before you felt something hit you over the head. It only stung for a second or two. Mo’at came around you, holding a wooden stirring tool in her hand. You reached up, and scratched at the spot you were hit at, “Um, ow?”

“Undress, child,” she retorted, shaking your head.

“Alright, alright.”

You took your shirt off, and sat there as she squatted down to your level to begin treating you.

You cringed, “ah,” hissing at the sting of pain. You felt Mo’at dab at the wound on your shoulder with a damp cloth in a not-so-delicate way. She rose a brow at the look you gave her, and continued on.

Once everyone left, Neteyam stood in place, arms folded with a deep set frown on his face as he watched yours twist up in discomfort. He could feel your emotions. They were everywhere but the ones he could pin down were fluctuating between feeling anxious, tensed and drained. He could tell that all you wanted to do was rest for the night, but he couldn’t risk your wounds getting infected. Not like he was worried about your health. He just needed to make sure once you woke up in the morning, you would be cleared to leave the village and never come back. Although, since his father was aware of your presence now, it was unlikely he would let you go until you were fully healed and able to travel on your own.

Neteyam almost rolled his eyes. Much to his dismay, of course.

“Ow,” you whined, and Mo’at clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

“Child, do not be so soft,” she dipped the cloth in her bowl of water to drain it before gathering it with water again, cleaning another wound of yours, “This is your doing, is it not? Perhaps you will learn to be more careful next time, hm?” You winced, biting your lip from hissing out again.

Neteyam clenched his teeth at the way your fists were balled up in your lap. He had the urge to tell his grandmother to stop what she was doing and let him take over, but the more sensible side of him kept him rooted in place. He didn’t care about you. If he was right and his body had chosen you as his mate, then it was simple. His sudden feelings towards you weren’t of his own volition. The need to protect you, harm anyone willing to harm you and officially make you his mate wasn’t him. There was no reason to listen to any of the things his body wanted to do in thought of you. He still had control. He would continue to have control. He wasn’t going to let himself be brought down and ruled by something so pitiful as this. He was much stronger than that.

Seynä stood next to him, rigid, glaring down at you. Her body rattled with anger. Your mere presence made her want to revolt. She couldn’t stand the sight of you, but witnessing the way Neteyam was with you compared to how he was with her — it infuriated her in ways she couldn’t begin to explain.

Fairness was a luxury in her world. She was aware that Neteyam didn’t love her. That it would take time for him to see her and come to love her the way she wanted him to, but was it selfish of her to have wanted him to fall at first sight? He didn’t even want to stand next to her, let alone be in the same room as her. Took one glance during their first meeting earlier, and ignored her ever since.

She wasn’t expecting him to hold her hand or kiss her every two seconds, but could he at least acknowledge her and not make her feel as alienated as she had the moment she stepped into the village? He promised he would try, but it didn’t look like he was upholding his end of the deal.

“Some of these wounds are deep, child,” Mo’at frowned as she began to wrap one of your wounds with a roll of gauze, “What on earth happened out there?”

You didn’t feel like going into the subject as most of your injuries came from when you’d fallen out of the tree earlier. Especially when Neteyam could’ve prevented it from happening in the first place. Kanu wasn’t around to save either of you from explaining it, either. Though, you were more focused on why Mo’at was using modern wound care to treat you to think about a response.

Neteyam cleared his throat, eyes still on you, “It was my fault, grandmother. Do not take it out on her.”

Appalled, Seyna snapped her head at him, lips pressed into a thin line, “Ma ‘teyam, do not take up for that demon! You did nothing wrong, I’m sure of it!” She exclaimed, speaking in na’vi on purpose so that you wouldn’t understand their conversation. For some reason, that irked Neteyam.

When he looked at her, he didn’t even turn his head. His intense gaze drilled a hole through hers from the side, causing her to take a step backwards from him. “Why are you still here? Do you not have someplace else to be? Hm?”

A whimper fell past her lips, eyebrows pulled together in disbelief.

“Well– well because I thought…” he stared at her, lip curled, jaw flexing. His presence was becoming so suffocating, she found it hard to breathe. “I thought—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, shifting his gaze back onto you, ignoring the way you were invested into the conversation, appearing concerned. He switched to his native tongue, highly irritated now, “I do not need you hovering over me. It is pathetic, and below your status, Seynä. Mind your manners or I will get the impression that you aren’t as suited to be my mate as your father has told my father.”

Seynä’s lip trembled, clearly trying to hold back tears. Her nails punctured her skin, feeling the cool ooze of blood coat her fingers.

“I don’t understand. Does she mean something to you? Why do you care about some human?”

Neteyam glared at her, “Do I need to explain myself to you? Someone I met today; a stranger, no less. What business I have with anyone is none of yours. Do you understand? Do not question me again, and I won’t be so nice the next time that you do.” He eyed her down, more upset than he had intended to get with her. “You may go or was there something else?”

His quick dismissal of her made Seynä’s stomach drop. It was utterly degrading, and it made her feel insignificant to him. Lower than low, less than dirt. She wasn’t even a blip on his radar, and she couldn’t help but entertain the idea that maybe there was something going on between you and him. That she had lost to a human before the battle even began.

How sickening. Her hands clenched tighter, settling the fire in her eyes onto you. She was angry, livid with the idea that you dared to even think you could match up to her. She was his mate. Not you. Why did he even care to stay with you if he hated humans so much? She couldn’t even stand the smell of you so why wasn’t he just as repulsed, if not more?

The questions spinning around in her head only made the dull ache thicken into a pounding thrum, mere seconds away from blooming into a full on headache. She couldn’t stand the way he looked at her and spoke to her as if she was some bothersome child tugging at his clothing for attention. She was his mate. She deserved to be treated as such.

With a sharp sniffle, she stepped back into his space and tossed her hair back over her shoulder, “As you wish,” and stomped to the entrance of the hut, roughly pushing the flap out of the way, stepping out into the night.

You watched the tension in Neteyam’s shoulders drop, catching a breath of relief slip past his lips. He set his bow against the wall of the hut, and sat down, folding his legs into a comfortable position just across from you, opposite of the fire pit. He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly exhausted from the day’s events.

Mo’at glanced at her grandson before giving you a firm pat on the back, “I’m finished.”

With a grunt, she stood up with her bowl and walked over to the table that was brought in from an outpost to help organize her herbs and other medicinals. As she worked to clean her station up, you stared into the fire, too apprehensive to look at the man across from you. You could feel his eyes on you, but didn’t know what to say back. That conversation between him and the woman that had just left seemed intense, even though you couldn’t understand a word that they were saying. It felt like a conversation you shouldn’t have been in on.

You swallowed nervously, twiddling with your fingers.

Then, you watched from your peripheral vision as Neteyam stood up and rounded the fire. When he kneeled next to you, your body tensed up. His brows twitched at that.

“I am not going to hurt you, foolish woman,” He said in a low tone, almost close enough to feel his breath on your skin. He sighed, a soft look in his eyes that he was thankful you didn’t catch, “You are very troublesome, you know that?”

You looked up at him, having to stretch your neck to fully take in his entire face, lips pursed, “Troublesome? So you’re saying it’s my fault that I almost fell to my death earlier?”

He chuckled, and it made your heart skip a beat.

He tilted his head, and lifted a finger to your cheek to push away a stray piece of your hair from your face, eyeing the way your lips parted, “Mmm. Yes.” You gasped, and he smirked, “Though, is it my fault that you are tiny and clumsy?”

His heated gaze made you drop your eyes to your lap again, suddenly finding your hands a lot more interesting than the conversation.

“No…but—”

“You will sleep with me tonight.”

Your head snapped up at him, eyes wide, “I—huh?”

He hummed and stared at you for a moment longer before he stood to his full height, fixing the leather armor on his arm, “I will wait outside. When you are finished here, I will take you to my home.”

“Neteyam, wait, but I—” He didn’t give you a chance to finish. He lifted the flap to the hut, and stepped out, leaving you alone with Mo’at, who you forgot was still there in the first place. You deflated and slumped in place. “He never lets me finish my sentences,” you moped bitterly to yourself. “Asshole.”

Mo’at chuckled as she came walking back over, drying her hands on a clean cloth, “You two are like night and day, I tell you,” you tilted your head back to look at her, catching a faint smile on her face, “Very entertaining, indeed.”

You dropped your eyes back onto the fire in front of you, realizing how warm your face had gotten. Your mind reeled with the imprinted image of him that you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried. The way the flames of the fire danced across his face, lingering on his dark eyes and plump lips. How you felt his body heat pulse against your own, dangerously close. When slips of his dark hair fell over his shoulder when he had bent down to your level, almost brushing your shoulder. From the way he’d looked at you, how warm and gentle his voice had been when speaking to you just now — it all made you want to melt right into the ground.

Then, you remembered where he told you that you were going to be sleeping tonight.

Beads of sweat cascaded down from your temples, sneakily tumbling towards your chest wrappings, between the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitched.

Alone, with him.

With Neteyam, of all people.

“Oh god,” you breathed, unable to fathom what a night with him was going to be like.

The sexual tension was obvious, but he’d made it clear how much he couldn’t stand you. How were the two of you going to sleep under the same roof if you couldn’t get along?

Oddly enough, he was the least of your worries. It was that woman from earlier that you had to really worry about. She seemed to like him, so the thought of her finding out that you’d slept in the same vicinity as him… Her possible reaction made you shiver. It wasn’t going to be pretty, that was all you knew.

You put your face in your hands, and groaned.

Was it too late to run off into the forest without anyone noticing?

Only one way to find out.

Your plan of running back out into the forest without anyone noticing was snuffed out the moment that you stepped outside. It was pouring down with rain, but Neteyam stood there as if the sky was clear. He didn’t let the rain affect him, and stood with his arms crossed, waiting for you like he’d said he would.

When you stepped out, his head turned towards you. He looked you over, slowly, before he bent down. You quirked your head to the side, not understanding what he was doing, watching as he put his hands out behind him.

After squatting there for a few moments, he looked at you over his shoulder with a raised brow, “What is it?”

You snorted, giving him a funny look, “I dunno. You tell me.”

He almost rolled his eyes. It seemed he would have to spell it out for you.

“Get on. I will carry you the way there.” His eyes fell on your legs, “You are too tiny to keep up, and I will not slow down for you.”

“Not if you’re just going to insult me, no.”

Neteyam sighed. He should’ve expected this from you. It was never easy to get you to do anything if it was coming from him.

Done with playing nice, he stood up, and walked towards you. You glared at him, but gasped out when you felt him sling you over his shoulder.

“Hey, what the hell?!”

He smirked, and walked out of the village.

“Put me down! Are you crazy?!”

“You are a noisy woman, did you know that?”

“I can walk, ya know!”

“No. You are too slow.”

“Neteyam!”

He chuckled, “Good. You know my name.”

You glowered at him, “You’re not funny.”

He laughed, and ignored you the entire way until you stopped talking altogether.

When the two of you approached a large tree, you did your best to look up at it. The rain seemed to be coming down harder than earlier, which made you want to get inside of wherever Neteyam lived all the more. He stood there, thinking it through. Usually, it would’ve taken him less than a minute to climb up to the treehouse but then again, he was never carrying a small human in his arms while doing it. He had to think carefully and rationally.

“We’re not going up this tree…right?” You asked him, eyeing both the tree and him.

Neteyam licked his lips, and gripped your legs against him tighter. “Just stay still.”

Your eyes blew wide, “Uh, yeah can you put me down? I think I’m okay with sleeping on the ground, actually,” you laughed nervously, trying to wiggle out of his hold. “It can be quite comfy down here, trust me. Just– no wait!”

Neteyam started to climb up the tree, ignoring your shrieking. He found it annoying and distracting but he had to focus on not dropping you and going up at the same time. Thankfully you were still or you would’ve fell.

It didn’t take long for him to reach the edge of his home. He had to flip you around and push you onto the surface of the treehouse by your bottom, which made you flush but you ignored it and pulled yourself up. Gasping, you laid there as he swung himself up as well, ducking inside. Groaning, you stood up and headed inside as well.

He busied himself with taking off his armor while you took a look around. You had expected the place to be pitch black due to no light, but you were wrong. He’d had all sorts of vines and flowers weaved throughout the home, illuminating every nook and cranny. What you saw was to be expected.

There wasn’t much there other than piles of miscellaneous things in one corner and a bunch of folded up fur in another. There were some folded up mats as well, but the home was quite vacant. Aside from the mild decorations of beading and such, there wasn’t much there. It wasn’t all that shocking to you since Neteyam didn’t give you the impression that he was someone that liked hoarding a bunch of things that didn’t serve a purpose. It would’ve been a bit more alarming if he did have a clutter of stuff around.

Once he was done with ridding himself of his protective wear, he watched you walk about his place in slight awe. He tried to fight it, but felt a sense of achievement with how enamored you were with his home. It seemed that everything was to your liking after all. He wasn’t worried in the slightest because he didn’t care, but he did wonder what you would think about his place. He worked hard to make it as comfortable as possible. For him, of course. Not you.

Made sure that the house itself was stable enough since it was sitting in a tree. It could also get a bit colder than living on the ground or closer to it so he brought in a bunch of fur to keep himself warm and to combat the cold temperatures that blew in through the night.

He had to admit. He’d done a pretty good job.

“Do you have somewhere where I can get out of these clothes?” You asked him, cringing as you picked at your shirt, “These are wet, and I don’t want to sleep in wet clothes.”

He didn’t understand what you were asking him. Sure, your word choices sounded a bit strange to him, but it was the context of your question that he just didn’t get. Did you mean somewhere to change your clothing? That was a silly question. He almost laughed.

“You are standing in it.”

The moment you understood what he meant, you sent a weird look, “Here? Like…right here?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

You felt warmth from your neck build up towards your face. Of course you were meant to undress right in the middle of the floor. The na’vi were not shy when it came to the body. They didn’t see a need to hide themselves away. It made sense, but you weren’t one of them. You weren’t raised with that sort of mindset so you felt more conscious of your body. Stripping in front of him, again, was something you couldn’t do. You’d done it back in the hut earlier, but that was for good reason. Now, however…

Neteyam sighed before he turned around, rolling his eyes, “Change, woman. I would like to sleep at some point.”

Irritated by his sudden change in attitude, you grumbled bitterly under your breath as you pulled your shirt back off and began fumbling with your pants. After stripping down to your bra and underwear, you laid your clothes out to dry in a corner and noticed the furs next to it. Glancing back at Neteyam, happy to find his back still facing you, you grabbed one and put it up against your body to shield yourself.

“Okay. Done.”

He turned around, and smirked at you, “Hiding yourself?” He began walking towards you, “Don’t misunderstand. I do not lust for you, tawtute,” he leaned down, close to your burning face, eyes darkening, “Your body does not attract me, trust me.”

You squeaked when his arm brushed past yours, reaching behind you. He grabbed the rest of the furs there, and walked away from you.

“You should sleep,” he commented over his shoulder as he began making a place on the floor to sleep for the night, “Long day, tomorrow. Rest.”

As he worked on fixing up his bed, you bit into your lip, and decided to sleep near the corner — as far away from him as possible.

The air was thick with tension, it felt like it was crawling up and down your spine no matter how far you were from him. You laid down, choosing to stare up at the ceiling. There was shuffling to your left, and you caught Neteyam settling down on his fur, giving you the view of his back once more. With a quiet huff, you turned your attention back to the ceiling. The day’s events replayed in your head, over and over. How you got here, wondering how long it would be before you were back at the outpost, in your own cozy bed.

It all happened in a blur. Losing Theo, getting lost, meeting Neteyam and Kanu, meeting his angry mother and legendary father and laying under the same roof as him. If you thought about it too much, you’d feel like the room was spinning. So much had happened within the span of a few hours. It almost felt like a dream.

All you wanted was to be back at the lab. Safe and sound, and away from the very man that slept a few feet away from you. Someone who didn’t want you near him in the first place.

You frowned at his sleeping form, wondering why he had insisted that you slept with him anyway. Especially if he hated you so much. Why did he care where you slept? You weren’t his responsibility. It didn’t make any sense.

You would’ve much rather spent the night with Kanu, but he had disappeared earlier on. You couldn’t help but wonder why he’d left so early, but then again, it was none of your business. You didn’t exactly know him that well (or really, at all).

It was late, and you grew tired of thinking. Neteyam was right about one thing. You needed to rest. Too much had happened in one day, and the medicine that Mo’at had you drink before you left her hut was starting to kick in. You could feel the drowsiness lurking up on you, and decided to not fight it.

The moment you’d fallen asleep, Neteyam knew. For some reason, his body wouldn’t allow him to sleep until you did. It kept him up to make sure you were able to sleep, which was strange to him. He didn’t understand why it mattered. You seemed cozy in your little corner. Why did he feel worried about you?

Aggravated by this connection he seemed to be having with you, he drew his fur up and over his head to hopefully block you out entirely.

Except, it didn’t seem to work. Sometimes he hated to have heightened hearing.

He could hear your teeth chattering, and your sniffling.

He sighed. It sounded like you had a runny nose.

Great.

He willed his body to ignore you, but it was hard. Very hard. Especially when you sneezed. He cursed under his breath. On top of your injuries, you did not need to go and get sick on him. That would only prolong your stay, and he was fighting hard to get you out of the village within, at least, a day or two. If you got sick, he was positive his father would allow you to stay for more than that. He couldn’t handle it. Especially with his mother still angry about you being around in the first place.

Sucking up his pride, he pushed back the fur blankets and stood up with a grunt. He needed to fix this before it became a situation. His life was already stressful. He didn’t need you to continue adding on to it.

Standing over you, he took in a breath. He knew what he had to do. Your form visibly shivered under the single fur blanket you had on top of you. Other than that, you were just laying on the wooden flooring. He winced. It couldn’t have been comfortable, and of course you were shivering. The blanket wasn’t doing much to keep you warm. If anything, it was sending mixed signals to your brain making you believe you were comfortable enough to sleep, but was freezing you out at the same time.

“Okay, little one,” He bent down and carefully scooped you into his arms. Thankfully, you were deeply asleep and didn’t wake up. “Let’s get you warm.”

Your slight squirming didn’t bother him as he set you down on his makeshift bed of fur, and noted that it was warm because he’d been laying in it. You almost cracked a smile watching the way you snuggled against the bedding, but you were still shaking. He frowned, and covered you with the rest of the fur. Hopefully, now that he had placed you somewhere with more covering, that would fix the issue.

He was wrong.

You whimpered, and tried to press yourself further into the bedding, subconsciously seeking more of the warmth that was slowly dulling out now that his body heat was gone.

Neteyam feared this was something he’d end up having to do.

Swallowing his pride, he lifted the blankets and slipped inside with you. His first mind had been right. He’d have to sleep with you, right next to you, in order for you to get warm. You needed to leech off of his body heat and if that was going to solve the problem, then why not?

He just didn’t foresee you scooting closer to him until you were pressed right up against his back. He felt your cold fingertips against his warm skin, and let out a breath. You were freezing, just like he had suspected. Your touch was too cold to be normal so he turned around, and wrapped his arms around your tiny figure, bringing you against his chest. Your teeth continued to chatter and your whimpering didn’t stop until after Neteyam could feel himself slowly falling to sleep. You’d gone silent, and when he looked down, he could tell that you were finally warm.

He lifted a finger to your nose, and felt that it was dry now. No runny nose. Your body was also warming up. He knew that he didn’t need to continue holding you this way, but he couldn’t let you go. It felt…nice having you so close to him.

Your scent traveled into his nose again, and he mentally groaned. Not this again. What bad timing, at that.

He softly trailed his nose from the shell of your ear, to your neck. He took in a slow inhale, and let it out, his warm breath coating your skin. You smelled as sweet and as intoxicating as earlier. If not more now.

His body wanted more.

You made a small noise from the back of your throat but otherwise, continued to sleep. He let one of his hands slide from the middle of your back down, close to the swell of your ass. He needed to gain control of himself, but there you were, nearly naked and pressed against his own half naked body. How could he resist? It was like you’d been served to him on a silver platter.

Who was he if he didn’t indulge just a little bit?

“Oeya tawtute,” he growled against your skin, fangs itching to dip into you. He felt an aggressive need to mark you, to make sure that once you left the house, everyone knew you were marked by him. Especially his annoying best friend, Kanu. How Neteyam desperately wanted to see the look on his face once he saw the mark. He’d know to not come near you ever again. That you were his, and no one else’s.

“Neteyam?” You called in a groggy voice, trying to blink the sleepiness away. You’d felt something warm against your neck, but couldn’t figure out what it was. You knew that he’d taken you to his bed to get you warm, but you didn’t expect anything else to happen. You’d been grateful for his kindness, but this…

Your eyes popped open. This was similar to earlier when he’d had you in the tree. When he held you against him, nosing your neck and acting all strange. You went rigid. Now that the two of you were alone and half naked in the same bed, there was no telling what was going to happen.

“Hey,” you tried to push him back, but he was stronger. He nipped at your neck, pulling a choked gasp from your throat, “Neteyam, wait–”

“No,” He told you before he pushed you on your back, climbing on top of you. The first thing you noticed was how dark his eyes had gotten. They’d been such a bright and warm amber earlier, but now… They looked different. Much different. “You are mine. Not his.”

His voice was deeper as well. He didn’t even look like the same person from before. His fangs appeared longer, and his grip on your waist would’ve hurt if you weren’t so turned on by the entire shift of his personality. What was going on?

And who the hell was he even talking about?

“I think you’re dreaming? I don’t know what you’re talking about, but–”

He hissed before he got off of you. He scooted away from you, panting, trying to get himself under control. You laid there, blinking up at the ceiling in confusion. What just happened?

His back was facing you when you sat up on an elbow, looking at him. Even though you didn’t quite understand what he had going on, you still didn’t think it was a good idea to get upset about it. Especially when it seemed like it was something fragile and personal going on. You could always ask him about it later, but right now, it was best to try and sleep it off.

You chose to not say anything, and turned on your side, away from him. It didn’t look like he wanted to talk anyway, and you weren’t going to force him to.

Neteyam felt like his head was spinning on his shoulders. He couldn’t figure out what happened to him just now, but he feared that things with you would only get worse the longer he went without talking to his grandmother about what was going on. Only she would know what to do to help him with his little…problem.

He huffed to himself, and forcibly closed his eyes. If he forgot that you were only an inch away from him, he could probably get proper sleep tonight. It sounded easier said than done, though. Just moments ago, he’d been on top of you. You were looking at him with such fear that it woke up his arousal. He could’ve done anything to you, and you wouldn’t have been able to do a thing to stop him. Probably would’ve quelled the hunger he could deep within him, but not only was his gentlemen but he was also rational. A realist. It would’ve been wrong, and he was not someone that laid with someone that didn’t want to be with him. The connection needed to be mutual. Still, this…thing between you and him — it was different. It was hard to silence.

However, he could keep fighting it back. He had to.

Feeling your feet slide up his leg by accident made his tail hit the floor rather hard. His body went rigid.

He knew, in that moment, it was going to prove to be more of a challenge than he thought.

taglist: [if you are not listed, i reached my limit, sorryy 😭]

@powowowy @daydreamerbunny @itzmariaa777 @suntizme @neteyamforlife @blushhpeachh @makeup-stuff-and-such @ilovejakesullysdick @fantasico @iwanttohitmyself @mashiromochi @mae-is-crazy @lovekeeho @tpwkstiles @jellybeanstacey0519 @squidalapobre @crazy4books1 @hmt09 @danyxthirstae01 @desatando-me @zoetrope1997 @bajadotcom @maweysworld @ancientbeing10 @filmneteyam @kage-yaa @llearlert @jakesully-sbabygirl @dia-nne @reggiesslut @cerya @coldheartedmar @jdbxws @anxietydrogz @stillinracooncity @kyunasully @liluvtojineteyam @shadytalething @willowpains @itssomeonereading @luvvfromme @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @lordeleviathan @cleverzonkwombatsludge @love13tter @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @dreamtogether2000 @jjkclub @lyramundana

end notes: i just want to say thank you for all the support, i am still processing the amount of ppl that want to see this series continue bc i doubted myself a pretty long time before posting this :”) smooches to every single one of you, it’s made me so so happy istg, expect another update next week, xoxo

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neteyam x reader neteyam sully x reader neteyam angst neteyam x female reader navi!oc x human!reader

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