USDFDHEFHDG THIS GOT ME GIGGLINF AND EVERYTHING I Loveeeddd It

My bitch ass got whipped by Simon SO hard start doing sculpting when it’s not even at work (practically working overtime)😫

Just dumping everything in works so far 🎨

Slow Like Honey Masterpost (Complete)

Summary:  The gossip that buzzes around in the teacher’s lounge is that sweet, sensitive, divorcé Steve Rogers is hot-for-teacher. His daughter’s first-grade teacher, to be exact. Steve Rogers x Petite Reader –

(*) denotes NSFW

Part I: Teacher Appreciation Week

Part II: Slow Like Honey

Part III: Heavy With Mood

Part IV: The First Taste*

Part V: Twenty Years and a Month*

Part VI: Three Conversations

Part VII: Try Again

Part VIII: Never is a Promise*

lovely graphic made by @jurassicbarnes​

pen pal simon - original post

every day after work, you found yourself sat at your desk attempting to write back a response to the soldier who referred to himself as ‘ghost’. crumpled up stationary surrounded your desk space, along with different types of pens as you obsessed over your handwriting. if one letter of your penmanship looked wrong, the paper would become another ball added to the collection of half written letters that contained slightly different, if not the same, wording in response to the thank you letter from ghost.

the simple questions he asked to get to know you suddenly felt like the hardest questions to answer, as if you were being graded on the facts about yourself. was he going to find your hobbies boring? maybe your hobbies were boring the more you read your response. the easiest question to answer was regarding how long you had been doing the care packages - a few years since one of your friends had a significant other that joined the military. stories often mixed with people who received packages and cards from family members frequently, but the ones where some received little to none are the ones that made you upset. so, you had decided to explain that to ghost and it was probably the easiest response of them all to write out. not single moment did the pen leave the paper for you to collect your thoughts or how to word your answer.

but then, you continued to answer the questions he asked you, and in return you asked him similar or different ones. again, you weren’t positive he would reply this time around, but you figured you’d still return the gesture of asking him questions as well. and when you finished writing it all, reading through it god only knows how many times for errors, you finally slipped it into an envelope. this time, no ‘treats’ were included, instead you had opted to ask him if he had any favorites, that way if he did end up writing you back then you could buy him what he preferred.

and after you mailed out the letter, you pushed the thought of it to the side to try and forget about it. but, you couldn’t deny every time you arrived home and checked the mail you were secretly hoping there was a response. but then a few weeks went by and there really was no response waiting mixed in with your other mail.

then after almost two months, after a shit day at work, you didn’t even think twice as you grabbed the mail and walked into your home. going through the motions of your routine - showering, cooking dinner and anything else you had to take care of, you finally sat at the counter towards the end of the night to sort through the mail. a small card was tucked between a bunch of other trash mail, your eyes immediately recognizing the handwriting. quickly, you opened up the envelope and sure enough, that same notebook paper was tucked into it, this time three pieces of paper unfolded in your hands. 

..it’s been quite hectic over where i’m currently at, so sorry for the lack of my responding…

...i’m a bit upset of the lack of treats, it definitely beats what we have to eat sometimes.

the reason you do the packages is quite sweet. is your friends’ partner still alive? you use the past tense when you speak of them. sorry if that is rude to ask.

you read every word of the letter, not once, but twice. and he didn’t just read your response to his, he took notice of the small details. you didn’t even realize you had used the past tense, but he wasn’t wrong in his assumption either when he thought they might have passed. it was like reading a full blown conversation he had to himself in his head; the way before or after some sentences, he would write out interjections. some sentences were followed by parentheses where he made his own little comment as well about what he had just written.

again, i hope you forgive my delayed response. hope it doesn’t stop you from writing back. don’t always have the time, but promise i’ll get back to you. maybe in your next letter you can send me a picture of yourself, i think it would be nice to put a face to the name that signs off on these. i can’t do the same, but i’ll find a way to make up for that. ‘til the next letter, ghost.

and while you didn’t get started writing your response that night, you did make your way to your room with a smile on your face. excitement was already brewing about what you would say in your response and the next anticipated response he would give back, even if he did take a bit to respond.

WE NEED PART 3!!!!! I LOVE THIS SM GOOD LORDDD

ミdaddy issues

part one | part two

🍓pairing: recom!miles quaritch x human fem reader

🍓tags: nsfw, interspecies relationship, jealousy, some mild unwanted touching (not quaritch) second-hand embarrassment, rough face-sitting, p in v sex, size kink

For several days after your little rendezvous with Quaritch, you’re practically walking on air. You may be walking with a slight limp, but still – you’ve never been so satisfied in your whole life. 

Not only have you just had very good sex with the man you’ve been crushing on for months, but the science guys that have been snickering over your embarrassing interest in Quaritch have been rather remarkably silent since. You’re not even as embarrassed as you think you should be, considering all of your co-workers overheard you getting absolutely pounded into the floor by the Colonel; and you know you weren’t quiet about it, either.

You’ve even been able to cover significant ground with your dissertation – thanks to the sample that Quaritch had so generously provided you with, you’ve been able to run tests that you’ve dreaming of for weeks now. The data generated meant that you were able to nearly finish your dissertation.

Things are good. At least, mostly.

That one steamy encounter in your lab certainly isn’t the only one you end up having with Quaritch. In the weeks that follow, you boldly search him out several times during the breaks you take from your research. Once or twice, he’s even come looking for you in the lab. But most often, you find him and he ends up in your quarters – there’s something so thrilling about having him there, so big and exotically alien with all of his intense focus on you. You get so delightfully familiar with his mouth, his rough textured tongue, his enormous ridged cock, his large, thick-fingered hands. 

You could never have dreamed of your silly crush blooming into this with him, soft touches in the privacy of your quarters as he holds you to his big chest after fucking you so good that you practically go cross-eyed. You love having him in your quarters; it’s always a little comical to see his enormous body all curled up on your little human-sized bed, after all. In those quiet moments after sex, you’re able to delight in sharing skin to skin contact with him as he strokes over your much smaller body. It’s peaceful.

The only thing is, other than your little encounters, you hardly see Quaritch at all.

The recoms are busy, you know that, and often they’re sent out into the wilds of Pandora for days or even weeks at a time. Quaritch is an important man, and he’s got a lot on his plate. So for the most part, you only really see him from a distance. 

And it’s fine, really. It’s not like you had really expected things to change dramatically between you. He had told you very clearly that he wasn’t looking for anything romantic or anything like that; besides, he doesn’t exactly strike you as the romantic type. 

It’s silly to be disappointed. And yet, you are. You’re not even really sure what you had been expecting after that first time, but you suppose you had just been hoping for something a little more after crushing on him for so long. But you don’t want to be pushy or needy – you’re grateful for what he’s giving you, after all, and you don’t want to ruin the tentative little arrangement between you just because your crush has gotten a little out of hand.

It takes weeks before Geiszler manages to work up the courage to return to your little work room. It’s really just a little storage room filled with unused desks and old lab equipment, but you still feel much more comfortable in that room than in the main lab filled with scientists that side-eye you and openly snicker at you over your involvement with Quaritch. You’d prefer not to face that judgement, especially since those bastards had humiliated you with the dildo stunt already.

The sound of the door sliding open has your head snapping up from your research – you’ve started to associate that door sliding open with Quaritch’s arrival, and you find your stomach dropping a little in disappointment when you realise that it’s Geiszler rather than the Colonel’s familiar big blue body.

“Hey.” He says, shuffling his feet against the linoleum floor. He looks terribly uncomfortable, and pushes his wire-framed glasses up on his nose when they slip down.

You blink at him. Truthfully, you’re a little bewildered to see him. Ever since Quaritch had ordered him out of this same room before he had fucked you right into the floor, Geiszler had been avoiding you. In fairness, you hadn’t made much of an effort to seek him out either, but usually you didn’t have to. He was a pretty constant presence around the lab, and he usually sat with you at mealtimes too; his absence has been obvious.

“Hi.” You say, blinking stupidly at him.

Geiszler clears his throat and steps around some of the unused desks, approaching you where you sit. 

“I, uh…” He trails off for a second, before he seems to rally himself. “I thought I’d check in on you. See how you were doing.”

That throws you, and all you can do is stare at him in bewilderment. “Oh. Um… That’s nice of you. Yeah, I’m doing good.”

You’re not altogether certain of where you stand with Geiszler, either. Before the dildo incident, you think that you would call yourselves tentative friends. But now, things are undeniably awkward.

“Good. That’s good.” Geiszler is nodding. He leans his hip against your desk, but he can’t quite seem to meet your eyes. “Listen… I wanted to apologise.”

That makes you pause, and you squint at him.

“For what? The dildo thing? You already apologised for that.”

He laughs, but it’s high-pitched and obviously nervous. “Right, yeah. Um… it turned out pretty good for you though, I guess. So no harm done, right?”

“Other than my dignity being irreparably damaged?” You ask drily.

“Well,” Geiszler’s awkward smile melts into a cheeky grin – it’s a look that’s much more familiar to you than the oddly contrite expression he had been wearing before. “I don’t think the dildo did any more damage to your dignity than the fact that everyone could hear you encounter the real thing.”

Your mouth drops open. It’s not that the words themselves have shocked you (you knew that they had heard, on some level), it’s the fact that Geiszler is bold enough to actually say it to your face after so much awkwardness. Still, you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay,” You giggle, returning his grin. “Fair enough.”

Geiszler’s whole face seems to relax at that, as though he’s impossibly relieved that you’re able to laugh over it now. Some of the awkwardness seems to leak out of his demeanour too, which is a relief. The atmosphere is a little more natural between you now, like it was before the whole dildo incident.

Tentatively, he reaches for a chair and drags it over so that he can sit next to you at your desk. He’s a little closer than usual, but you don’t pay him much mind. It’s a bit of a relief, actually – you don’t have any real friends, and most of the science guys don’t take you seriously at all. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if he is a bit of a dick.

“Am I forgiven?” He asks, his eyebrows raising hopefully. “Friends again?”

You roll your eyes, but you’ve softened already. You can’t even be all that annoyed considering that his stupid stunt had ended up with you getting dicked down by the finest man you’ve ever met in your whole life. Besides, friends are in short supply here – you don’t want to alienate the only one you actually have.

“Yeah.” You grumble, though your mouth is quirked up in a little grin. “Fine. Friends.”

Geiszler brightens up, before running a hand through his hair in a nervous sort of gesture. Despite the fact that much of the awkwardness has dissipated, Geiszler still looks oddly jittery.

“So,” He says in a would-be casual tone. “You and Quaritch, huh?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you turn hastily back to your research in an attempt to look busy. You flounder for a moment, clumsily attempting to reorganise your papers.

“Hm?” You ask, trying to pretend like you hadn’t heard him in the hopes that he’ll drop the subject.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Geiszler laughs. His chair squeaks against the floor as he shuffles forward, even closer to you. “Come on! I was practically the matchmaker, right? You gotta give me some details, here.”

Your skin is prickling with mortification now, though you try to swallow it down and act unaffected. It’s only Geiszler asking, after all. 

“Um…” You clear your throat, flustered. “There’s really not that much to say.”

“How accurate was the dildo?”

“Geiszler!” You deliver a sharp stinging smack to his shoulder and he yelps, jolting away from you. “You absolute pervert-”

“I thought we were friends-!” He yells back, but he’s visibly laughing. “Come on, it stays between us! You can tell me!”

He’s so stupid. And yet, you’re hesitating a little. Being one of the very few women on the team of xenobotanists can be tough, even more so when you’re also one of the youngest and you haven’t even gotten your doctoral qualification yet. It can be lonely, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t terribly eager for somebody to talk to about things.

“It-” You begin, flushed hot with embarrassment. “He- I mean, um. It was pretty accurate. There were some things you missed, though.”

Geiszler pulls a funny sort of face, before his expression settles into one of mock thoughtfulness. “I see. So… you did end up using that dildo then?”

You choke, turning on him again. He dodges back before you can slap at his shoulder again, but his grin has gotten impossibly wider.

“Don’t be fucking weird about it.” You complain, turning your face away from him so he can’t see your face. “Miles has already given me enough shit about it-”

“Oh, Miles, huh?” Geiszler is still grinning, and he shuffles closer again now that he’s no longer in danger of being smacked. “Damn, you’re calling the Colonel Miles now?”

You breathe out a nervous laugh, flustered and embarrassed. “I guess. Not in public, obviously.”

“Why not?” Geiszler asks immediately, leaning forward over your desk and leaning his elbow on the tabletop so he can rest his chin in his palm. “He doesn’t want to show you off? He certainly wasn’t trying to hide it when he was in here before-”

“Jesus, stop fucking talking about that,” You hiss, scowling at him. “It was like one time-”

“You know, the walls in this room are pretty thin, and everyone in the main lab can hear when he-”

“Okay, okay,” You say quickly. “So it was a couple of times! Whatever!”

Geiszler giggles. His fingers are tapping repeatedly against the desktop as though he’s nervous, though his grin is still bright as ever. 

“So…” He says slowly, “What’s up with you guys, then? Are you, like, together now?”

You bite at your lower lip as you consider his question, pushing your research to the side so that you can rest your elbows on the desk. That really was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

“Nah,” You murmur, fingers picking absently at a stray bit of paper. “Don’t think he wants anything serious.”

“But you do?”

“Fucking hell,” You turn to give him a side eye, but soften it with a little smile. “What’s with the third degree, huh? You’re worse than the RDA-mandated therapists.”

Geiszler laughs, but obediently backs off. “Sorry, sorry. Can’t blame me for being curious, can you?”

You suppose you can’t, so you just hum non-committedly. It is a strange situation, you suppose.

“Whatever,” You say with a sigh, before waving your hands in a shooing motion. “Go on, get out of here. I have work to do.”

Geiszler does as he’s told, pushing himself away from the desk as his gaze darts over the structured mess of your desk.

“Sure, sure.” He says good-naturedly. “Still working on the dissertation? You nearly done?”

“Yeah.” You beam reflexively, impossibly proud of all your hard work. “The sample that the recoms brought me has been such a lifesaver! I’ll be able to submit everything this week, I think!”

“Hey, that’s amazing!” Geiszler says, reaching out to clap you cheerfully on the shoulder. “Really awesome! You deserve it. We should celebrate after!”

You hesitate for a split-second, a little bewildered about the way his hand is lingering a little oddly on your back. But then he pulls away, and you decide you were probably imagining it.

“Right!” You say, smiling. “Sure.” 

Geiszler shoots you a blinding grin along with some finger guns, which is a gesture that’s so cheesy that you have to fight not to visibly cringe. With that he leaves you alone once more, so that you can return to burying your head in your research, forcing all thoughts of your relationship (or lack of it) with Quaritch out of your mind for good.

Friday evening marks a full week since you’ve seen Quaritch.

It’s not unusual, exactly, considering his work and yours usually keep you occupied in different sections of the base entirely, but still. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t been hoping that he would come and see you at some point during the week. You’re overly aware of the fact that it’s almost always you seeking him out, and so rarely the other way around.

You’re even more aware of this after your conversation with Geiszler – it’s not that he had said anything surprising, but just talking about it had highlighted the fact that you really weren’t sure where you stood with Quaritch at all. Now that you’ve started thinking about it, you just can’t stop. 

Would it be selfish to ask for more? Is it presumptuous to hope that he might be willing to offer more? What would you do if he turned you down? Fuck, how would you recover from that?

In the end, you decide to leave the matter for now. It can be a topic of discussion for another time.

But then Friday afternoon rolls around, and you hit a milestone. After three long years of arduous research, your doctoral thesis has been submitted. It’s a momentous occasion, and yet you find yourself alone in your lab with no one to celebrate with.

The sensible thing would probably be to go and find Geiszler. He’s a co-worker, and a tentative friend, and he has experience with the very same process you’ve just gone through – plus, he’s already made you a promise to celebrate with you! 

It would probably be a better idea to stick to building upon the budding friendships in the science department – but instead you find yourself slipping out of the lab and wandering down the halls, your mind set on finding one person in particular.

Despite how little you’ve seen of him recently, Quaritch isn’t actually a difficult man to find. 

Bridgehead City may be an enormous, sprawling structure, but the recoms are encouraged to stay close to the medical and science wings just in case something goes wrong. Many of the facilities in this part of the base have been built to accommodate their much larger Na’vi bodies; the gym being one of them.

Like most of the facilities, a separate section has been built in the gym containing appropriate equipment for the recoms. You need to strap an exo-pack mask over your face so that you can breathe the air in there, but then you slip into the room with no problem. You’re not even particularly out of place in the enormous gym; there are several other human scientists milling around with datapads, though they’re clearly observing and taking notes on the recoms’ athletic performance.

You spot Quaritch near the back of the gym. He’s impossible to miss, really. Even if he weren’t nine-feet-tall and bright blue, you’re certain you’d be able to locate him based on the sheer amount of overwhelmingly commanding energy that pours off him at any given moment – his presence fills the room.

You pick your way around the enormous gym equipment, trying not to feel like a child in a playground. Overall, you do a pretty good job at not being noticed. You don’t think you could handle another encounter with his squad; you’ve done your absolute utmost to avoid all of them ever since the dildo fiasco.

As you approach Quaritch, you begin to falter. He’s lifting weights, all stretched out across the bench press with his thin vest clinging to his chest. Though a single barbell probably outweighs you, the motion looks effortless. There’s the faintest glimmer of sweat across his brow, but otherwise he hardly seems to be affected by the exertion at all other than the occasional grunt he lets out. You get a little distracted by the way his biceps flex and bunch with every curl of his arms.

Fuck, what are you even doing here? Why would he even care about your stupid dissertation? What are you hoping to achieve with this?

Your steps falter, and then movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. It’s one of the recoms – Lopez, you think – watching you with curious eyes. He turns and murmurs something to Z-dog beside him, who turns to look at you too before nudging him with a grin. 

Your face grows hot, mortified; you’re unwillingly reminded of the way Wainfleet and Fike had snickered at you that day in your little workroom.

Embarrassed, you force yourself to close the last bit of remaining distance between you and the Colonel. You’ve come this far anyway, and you can’t face the thought of his squad watching you chicken out.

He looks up as you approach, and you can see surprise register on his face as his ears press back against the sides of his head. With one last heave, he sets his weights back on the bar before pushing himself up into a sitting position on the bench press.

“Hey, kid,” He greets, his elbows resting on his thighs as he watches you approach. “What’re you doing here?”

You step up to the bench press, close enough that you can admire the way a couple beads of sweat glisten on his smooth, muscled chest. Even after all the times you’ve seen him completely naked, you still get flustered when you’re faced with how impossibly attractive he is.

“I finished it,” You murmur to him quietly, hyper-aware of the stares your appearance in the gym has started to garner from the members of his team that are training at various points around the room. “My dissertation, I mean.”

You’re expecting a dismissal, or a half-hearted congratulations maybe. You’re not expecting Quaritch’s face to relax into a genuine little grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he tilts his head to look at you. 

“Yeah? Nice job, princess.”

You flush, growing warm and flustered from the praise. “Well, I’ve only just submitted it. I’ll have to go through the thesis defence, but hopefully they’ll be able to speed that process up.”

Quaritch is watching your face, his big golden eyes assessing as he evaluates every little expression of yours. It’s always intimidating to be under his scrutiny like this, but a little part of you is flattered to be the sole recipient of his attention like this every time.

“Smart girl.” He murmurs at last, mouth quirking. “This mean you can stop spending so much time in that dirty little room?”

You snort, amused despite yourself. “No. That dirty little room is my space. It’s easier to work there by myself than with the other guys in the main lab.”

Quaritch’s eyes narrow, and he leans forward a little. “Those little pubes still bothering you?”

You think back to your conversation with Geiszler from earlier that week – it had gone well, and you’ve seen him almost every day this week. He’s hardly teased you at all about Quaritch, in fact, which is the opposite of what you had expected. He’s been very respectful and very work-appropriate.

“No, actually.” You say with a satisfied sort of smile. “Everything is good.”

Quaritch grunts softly in acknowledgement, before sitting up a little straighter. “Why don’t I drop by the lab later? I’ve got a few things to finish up here.”

You can’t help the way your stomach wobbles, butterflies fluttering wildly in your belly. You’re almost embarrassed about the effect he has on you, but not embarrassed enough considering you’re still smiling dopily up at him.

“Yeah,” You breathe. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

Quaritch’s smile turns cocky, his mouth curving up as he watches your reaction. “Yeah?”

You grin back, and try not to nod too eagerly. You can still feel the eyes of Quaritch’s squad on you, watching intently as you converse quietly with their superior office. Curiosity is practically radiating off them, and you’re sure there are more than one pair of twitching ears trying to listen in on your conversation.

“Was that all?” Quaritch asks, “Or did you just come here to see me?”

Ah, busted. Your grin turns a little bashful, and you scratch absently at your elbow.

“I just wanted to tell someone about my dissertation, I guess.” You say with a little shrug.

Quaritch hums, amused, before pushing himself up from the bench to his full, impressive height. Suddenly, you find yourself eye level with his belt, and you have to tilt your head all the way back to be able to look him in the eye.

“You did good, girl.” He says, reaching out to pat you on the shoulder. “Well done.”

His hand lingers, his long fingers curling around your shoulder and resting along the back of your neck. It’s the kind of touch that makes you shiver a little, and you lean into his hand just to feel the heat of his skin against yours. It puts you in mind of the back pat Geiszler had given you earlier; you wonder how it’s possible for the same gesture to feel so unbelievably different from two different people.

You smile, bright and joyful. His praise settles low and warm in your belly, making you feel weightless and airy. The effect he has on you is a little embarrassing, but you don’t even care. You’re lost in the moment, staring up at his sharp-boned, handsome face as you revel in his approval. 

You clear your throat. “I’ll, um.. I’ll see you later, then?”

“Yeah,” Quaritch removes his hand from your shoulder, to your dismay. “See you then, kid.”

Despite the fact that you’ve already seen him, you take a little time to fix yourself up that evening as you await Quaritch’s arrival. You’ve changed into one of your cute little dresses under your lab coat, and you add a little bit of makeup and fix your hair. You just want to look pretty for him.

You’re just adjusting some of the gloss at the corner of your lips when the doors to your little work room slide open. You hurriedly put down your lipgloss and turn to the door with a smile on your face; it falters when you see that it’s Geiszler who has just stepped in.

“Oh,” You say, surprised. “Hey.”

Geiszler smiles back at you as he saunters his way into the room; bizarrely, he looks nervous.

“Hey!” He greets, a little more upbeat than usual. “Congratulations on the thesis!”

“Oh, thank you!” You relax, realising now why he’s here. “God, it hardly even feels real, you know.”

Geiszler just chuckles; just like last time, he grabs a chair and drags it over so that he can sit close to you. His eyes are darting over your face, and you try not to get self-conscious about it; you can only guess that he’s eyeing the way you’ve prettied yourself up with makeup.

“I brought you this,” He clears his throat, and brings his arm out from behind his back. You hadn’t even noticed that he was attempting to hide a large bottle in his hands. “Uh… Steiner from exobiology has been brewing his own vodka with some of the freeze-dried potatoes we brought from Earth. Here – it’s a congratulations present.”

When he places the bottle on the table, you accept it with a gracious if not surprised smile. It’s a rarity to get something like this, and the idea of being gifted vodka on an alien planet is a total novelty. You grin as you peer at the clear liquid inside the glass bottle.

“Damn, thank you!” You say with a short little chuckle. “This was a lovely thought.”

Geiszler seems pleased with your reaction, though he just shrugs his shoulders as though it’s no big deal. “Yeah, well, I figured I owed you something nice after being a dick to you before.”

You try not to sigh. It seems like he’s just going to keep bringing that up, no matter how many times you try to get him to drop it. 

“Well, thanks.”

Geiszler leans forward, planting his elbows on the desk beside you. He’s very close to you now, close enough for you to start side-eyeing him but not close enough for you to really justify pulling away. 

“You look nice.” He says simply, offering you another little smile. “I’m guessing you have plans for the evening?”

You clear your throat, but you can’t help the little smile that’s starting to creep over your face. “Yeah. I’m just waiting-”

“For Quaritch?” Geiszler interrupts you, though his voice is still casual and his expression doesn’t change. “Well, he’s a lucky man. Is it date night? He taking you somewhere nice?”

Your smile falters a little. No, it’s not date night. Quaritch has been clear from the start that he doesn’t want anything like a relationship, and he’s been true to his word this whole time. He comes around for sex, and it’s very good sex, but sex is all it ever is. And that’s fine! You’re fine with just the sex! But you have to admit, some part of you yearns for a little more than that.

“Um, no.” You say at last, swallowing and hitching your smile back up. “No, nothing like that. Just a quiet night in, probably.”

Judging by the eyebrow raise, Geiszler is perfectly capable of translating between the lines. He gives you a sympathetic look, the type that makes irritation prickle all up the back of your neck, before leaning in just a little closer as he drops his voice.

“I know you like him,” He begins, his voice lowering to a murmur despite the fact that the two of you are alone in your little work room. “But is this really what you want? Someone that won’t even take you on dates? That only uses you as something to fuck?”

Your spine stiffens, your eyes growing wide. What the fuck? The sheer boldness of his words takes you by surprise, and all you can do for a long moment is stare at him. 

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, is the first thing that crosses your mind, irritated and dismissive. But then you pause, and bite at your lip. It’s not something you want to admit to yourself, but he does have somewhat of a point. 

Is it unreasonable to hope for more from the Colonel? He had told you straight out that he didn’t want anything from you the day of the dildo incident, but then he had contradicted himself when he had returned to your lab barely a week later with a brand new sample of panopyra fluid before promptly fucking you stupid right there on the workroom floor. He had never brought up your relationship status (or lack thereof) again, though you felt like his silence on the matter spoke volumes.

It’s not selfish to wish quietly for a deeper level of intimacy with the man you’re so damn infatuated with, is it? You want to be able to hold his big hands, to comfort him when he’s stressed, to tell him about your day, to share a bed and just sleep, to go on dates. They’re thoughts that you’ve been trying hard to keep stifled for the past several weeks for exactly this reason – you just knew that if you allowed yourself to think them, they would consume you.

Now that Geiszler has opened this can of worms, you end up shifting uncomfortably on your stool. As if he can see your doubt, he leans in yet again.

“Don’t you think you’ve gotten him out of your system by now?” He asks, so quietly that you almost have to strain to hear him. 

You open your mouth hesitantly, but you never get to make a reply. The sound of the door sliding open behind causes you to jolt in surprise; for the first time you realise just how close Geiszler has gotten to you, and you lean hastily away.

You shove yourself off the stool you’ve been sitting on, and whirl around to find that Quaritch has finally shown up.

“Miles,” You breathe, reaching to smooth down your dress. “Hey.”

Quaritch steps inside your dingy little workroom, ducking down so that he can fit through the doorway. You can see him physically pause when he catches sight of Geiszler. It seems to take a moment for him to actually place him, but when he does recognition settles darkly over his face.

“Hey, kid.” He greets, though he doesn’t look away from Geiszler. “What are you up to?”

You clear your throat again, and fight not to fidget with your fingers. You feel bizarrely guilty, which is stupid. There’s nothing wrong with talking to Geiszler, and there’s nothing wrong with questioning where you stand with Quaritch. 

“Nothing!” You say, but it comes out much too quickly to be entirely believable. 

His big golden eyes flick in your direction, and you find yourself struggling to meet his stare. He’s so good at reading your thoughts by your expression alone, and you’re embarrassed about this. 

There’s a brief silence, and then Quaritch steps forward again. He has to walk with his head ducked and shoulders hunched in order to avoid hitting the ceiling; this room is much smaller than the main lab, and was never intended for bodies as large as his. You watch him approach, your stomach tightening in the same anticipatory knot you always get when he’s close. You’re only distantly aware of the way that Geiszler shuffles to the left, adding about an inch of distance between you.

You’re still a little flustered from your conversation with Geiszler, and you find yourself scrambling a little bit as Quaritch comes closer. You reach out and grab at the bottle Geiszler had gifted you and hold it up.

“Look, Geiszler brought a gift! Isn’t this cool?” You babble. “It’s vodka! Made from- uh, potatoes!”

Quaritch has grown accustomed enough to your mannerisms in the past couple of weeks that your nervous babbling doesn’t phase him in the slightest. He drops into a crouch next to you, his movements as quick and graceful as a cat, before reaching out to grasp your wrist so he can get a better look at what you’re holding.

“Well, would ya look at that.” He says. His tone is perfectly mild, yet when his eyes slide over to Geiszler they flash a little darker. “He certainly does like bringing you presents, don’t he?”

Geiszler has grown a little pale, and he shoots a quick glance your way. You just smile at him – Quaritch can be a little scary, sure, but you know that Geiszler doesn’t really have anything to worry about. Most likely, he’s just a little irritated still about the whole dildo situation.

“It was a lovely thought.” You say, placing the bottle back on the tabletop. “I haven’t had alcohol since I came to Pandora.”

Geiszler visibly brightens. “Nah, it was nothing. You’ve been working so hard, you deserve some kind of reward.”

You beam, delighted. It feels great to have your hard work recognised, especially after so long working with much older scientists that have treated you like nothing more than an intern. 

Beside you, Quaritch shifts, and you startle a little when his arm comes around your back as a warm weight plants itself on your ass. You can feel the heat of his palm and fingers through the fabric of your lab coat and dress, and you struggle to stifle the physical shiver that runs through you when he squeezes a little.

You glance up at him, but he’s not even looking at you; his eyes are still fixed on Geiszler, hardly even blinking. He reminds you a little of a jungle predator, the line of his body taut with barely restrained danger.

Your face grows hot, but you don’t move away from him. His hand remains firmly planted on your asscheek. It doesn’t feel like he has any plans to move it. 

You clear your throat a little as you attempt to continue the conversation as though Quaritch isn’t currently unashamedly groping you.

“Well, thank you.” You murmur, hoping that your smile doesn’t seem too strained. “I still can’t believe I’m gonna get my doctorate.”

“It’s well-deserved.” Geiszler’s voice is oddly soft, almost uncharacteristically so. “You’ll be the sweetest botanist we have, I think.”

That seems like a bizarrely condescending thing to say, and your brow pinches a little. You think he means it as a compliment, but it’s yet another reminder that the other scientists don’t really seem to see you as being on the same level as them.

Quaritch has been strangely quiet up until this point, content to simply stare Geiszler down with his big yellow eyes, but that comment makes him snort.

“Oh, don’t let the sweetness fool ya,” He drawls, his upper lip peeling up in a smirk to reveal sharp teeth. “Girl’s a brat.”

You jolt, swinging your head around to stare up at him in disbelief. For a moment, you wonder if you had misheard him, but his smirk is unmistakably challenging as he watches Geiszler for a reaction.

“Miles!” You hiss, mortified.

Quaritch finally looks away from Geiszler, just so he can roll his head around and blink down at you. He doesn’t look sorry in the least; in fact, he just grins at you.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” He asks, his tone falsely sugar-sweet. “You’re not usually so embarrassed.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed and bewildered. Your cheeks are still hot, and bizarrely you find yourself growing a little hyper-aware of how attractive he is. Your eyes dart over his high cheekbones and big eyes, the deep blue of his skin and the pretty white bioluminescent dots freckled across his nose. His big hand flexes, encompassing the whole swell of your ass, and you take a breath.

You look away hastily, having lost the thread of your thoughts, and your eyes find Geiszler once more. The look he’s giving you is significant, his eyebrows raised behind his large wide glasses, and you’re struck again by what he had said earlier.

‘Is this really what you want? Someone that won’t even take you on dates? That only uses you as something to fuck?’

Flushed, you look down at your feet. God, you really can’t help yourself, can you?

“Alright, why don’t you head out now?” Quaritch says above you, tossing a quick look Geiszler’s way.

His glower is unmistakable, and Geiszler flinches a little under the heavy weight of it. He takes a step back as though he can’t help himself, before darting a glance in your direction.

“Right. Yeah. Um,” Despite the way he’s visibly cowering slightly in Quaritch’s presence, Geiszler still manages to gather enough courage to shoot you a smile. “Congratulations again. We’ll celebrate another time, right?”

“Yeah.” You nod, offering him a tight smile. “Sure.”

Geiszler’s smile turns more genuine as he walks backwards towards the door, as though putting additional space between him and Quaritch is making him a little braver. 

“Hey, think about what I said!” He calls once he’s at the door, just before he ducks out of the room. “See you tomorrow!”

There’s a long moment of silence as the door slides shut behind him. You’re biting at your lip, brow furrowed – as much as you’d like to put his words firmly out of your head, you know that it’s going to stick with you for the foreseeable future.

Movement at your side pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up to find Quaritch scowling at the door that Geiszler has disappeared out of.

“I do not like that guy.” He grumbles, nose twitching. 

You laugh a little breathlessly, unable to help yourself. “He’s not so bad.”

Quaritch turns his head to look at you, his expression one of firm disbelief. “What? Is he not the slimy little creep that gave you that sex toy you were all upset over?”

The memory makes your skin prickle with remembered humiliation, and you roll your eyes in an attempt to appear casual.

“I was upset because you and your squad of morons ruined my research, not over the dildo.” You mumble, finally stepping away from him. “Besides, I thought you liked that dildo – it helped me get ready for you, didn’t it?”

Usually that would be enough to distract him, but it seems like Geiszler’s presence has gotten under his skin more than you realised. You had forgotten that Quaritch had such a dislike for the scientists that work around Bridgehead; his remarks about your research and your interest in xenobotany has always been mostly teasing, after all.

“I seem to remember you throwing things, kid.” He reminds you, lowering himself a little further so he’s at eye-level with you. “You tellin’ me that was just for me?”

You breathe a short laugh, glancing away. As much as you love looking at his big handsome face, you find it difficult sometimes to maintain eye contact with him. He’s just so intense about everything, and you feel as though you’re being examined.

“Well, maybe you push my buttons more than he does.”

Quaritch makes an odd little grunting sound, his eyes still flicking over your face. He’s sat back on his hunkers in front of you, though he reaches out and places a large hand against your waist. You lean into his touch on reflex, enjoying the pleasant heat of his palm through your clothes.

“What was that he was saying?” He asks, his voice low. “Was he bothering you before I arrived?”

“No,” You say quickly, averting your eyes. “No, that was nothing.”

There’s a brief pause. You can feel him studying you, that pretty golden gaze boring into the side of your face. You half expect him to keep pushing, to demand a proper response from you, and you’re a little surprised when no such demand comes. Instead, his long fingers curl into your clothes, bunching it up a little bit in his hand.

“You tellin’ me the truth, sweetheart?” He murmurs. His tone makes it clear that he already knows the answer to his own question.

“Yeah,” You keep your smile hitched up on your face, though it takes a little effort. “Of course. Will we head out, then?”

Another pause, this one longer than the last. 

“Alright.” He drawls at last, pulling hand away from you as he stands. “Let’s go then.”

The tiny seed of doubt in your mind starts to bloom into full blown apprehension over the following days. 

The evening you had with Quaritch had been lovely – it still amazes you how he can be so charming one moment and then the next moment have you all tied up in knots around his cock as he pounds you stupid into your own standard-issue lumpy mattress.

In some ways, your crush was easier to handle before you started hooking up with Quaritch. At least back then you weren’t ever really concerned about rejection – you had never expected to get far enough with him that rejection might be a reality, after all! Now, you find yourself perturbed at the thought that he could lose interest at any moment; and that’s assuming he had any interest in the first place. You were the one who had been throwing yourself at him, after all.

Maybe, you think to yourself, it’s best to give him some space.

For the first time in months, you stop seeking Quaritch out. You don’t go looking for him in the gym so you can watch him work out, you don’t try to grab seats close to the Recom area in the cafeteria so you can watch him during mealtimes, you don’t go searching for him in the evening times so you can coyly invite him back to your quarters, you don’t stand waiting in the hangars when the Recom squad are returning from their scouting missions on Pandora in the hopes of catching sight of him. 

You had been aware on some level that it had mainly been you seeking him out, but now that you’ve stopped you’re disheartened to find that Geiszler had been right. Quaritch doesn’t come looking for you at all – maybe it’s true that he was only interested in you on a sexual basis. And even then, it’s only because you offer yourself to him. Does he think you’re easy? God, you probably come across as so desperate. Does he think you’re pathetic?

Either way, it’s a little disheartening. But whatever. It’s fine. You’re fine.

A week and a half after you first started to keep to yourself, Geiszler starts lingering around your workroom. At first, it’s kind of nice to have a bit of company as you work. He asks questions about your research, which you answer eagerly and with great enthusiasm, and even helps you to prepare for your thesis defence.

But by the end of that week, his presence starts to grate on your nerves a little. He babbles constantly, and no matter how hard you try to tune him out it’s like having nonstop noise playing in the background.

“Hey, how come you don’t join the rest of us back in the main lab?” He asks one afternoon. 

He’s lounging on one of the spare chairs, his feet thrown up on a disused desk. He looks very at ease, and you try not to allow your irritation to show; this is your space, and it’s difficult not to grow disgruntled at the constant invasion.

It takes a moment for you to answer.

“Because,” You murmur slowly, scratching out a quick memo in your notes. “You guys are assholes. You laugh at me all the time, and I know that you all think I’m not as smart as you.”

“Oh, come on.” Geiszler says with a short laugh, leaning his chin into his hands. “You know we don’t mean anything by it-”

“Yes, you do.” You mumble without looking up. “It’s obvious. I have to work so much harder than any of you, but it hardly ever matters. It doesn’t matter how many hours I put in, or how good my research is. I know you guys just see me as a silly little girl that doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Geiszler just blinks at you for a moment. Maybe he expects you to be angrier than you are; but you’ve already experienced years of this. More than anything, you’re just tired of it.

“Come on,” He says at last, leaning forward with an ingratiating little smile. “I don’t think that’s fair.”

“No?” You murmur absently, flipping a page. “Then why is it that you guys never ask me about my work? My research? My interests? My experiences? The only thing you guys ever talk about when I’m around is how silly I am for crushing on the Colonel. First you laughed about me because you thought I was pathetic, and now you laugh at me because you think it’s weird.”

There’s a brief pause where Geiszler visibly fumbles for a response. His brow furrows, his mouth pursing, as he attempts to gather his thoughts. You don’t look up from your work, but you can practically feel antsy shifting from beside you.

“Oh, that’s not fair.” He says finally, a little weakly. “I mean- okay, so maybe we thought it was a little funny that-” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head, and then changes tactics. “What, are you telling me Quaritch thinks you’re smart?”

That makes you pause, your own brow puckering into a frown. He says it as though it’s a difficult thing to believe, but you’ve never really thought about it. You may have made a fool of yourself in front of Quaritch on several occasions, but he’s never actually made you feel stupid about it. He’s rolled his eyes at you plenty of times, maybe laughed at you a little, but you’ve never gotten the impression that he’s actually questioning your intelligence.

“I think he does.” You murmur, still not looking up. You think of how he had grinned at you when you had shared the news that you had finished your dissertation; he didn’t seem as though he thought you were stupid then.

“It’s Quaritch.” Geiszler points out, his voice thick with disbelief. “Come on! He thinks everyone is stupid! You hardly think you’re the exception?”

You turn to him sharply, eyes narrowing. Your irritation is flaring now, and you find yourself completely unable to hide it.

“Do you seriously think this is helping your point?” You snap. “Like, really?”

Geiszler goes quietly instantly, the picture of guilt. The silence that follows is a little awkward; you turn back to your work, glaring fixedly at your research. You’ve been on Pandora for almost a full year now, and over that time you’ve grown used to the attitude of the guys in the lab. It’s not unusual, after all. You’ve been met with the same kind of derision in plenty of the male dominated work and study spaces you’ve experienced back on Earth. But even though you’ve grown used to being smirked at and talked down to, it really gets on your nerves sometimes.

After several long moments of thick, tense silence only broken by the scritching of your pen on paper and the jittery fidgeting of Geiszler’s hands against the tabletop, he speaks again.

“Sorry.” He says, quietly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I know you’re upset about him recently.”

You clench your jaw irritably. You don’t like that it’s so obvious how you feel about him, and you like it even less that Geiszler seems to be so interested in it.

“Whatever.” You mumble, turning your face away with a quiet sigh. “It doesn’t really matter, anyway.”

The next silence doesn’t last quite so long, because Geiszler ends up shuffling his chair even closer to you. Your shoulders tense, but you simply watch him out of the corner of your eye. Your friendship with him is somewhat odd; most of the time you think he’s just good company, but sometimes his boldness takes you aback.

“Look, I’m just worried about you,” He says, his voice quiet and urgent. “You keep yourself so isolated here, it can’t be healthy. When’s the last time you socialised with the rest of the xenobotanist team?” 

You hum in false thought. “Think it might have been three weeks ago? When you guys had a conversation for nearly half an hour about the physics of me and Miles fucking as if I wasn’t even there. You know, when Boyd asked if I’d write a report on human/Na’vi sexual compatibility?”

Geiszler winces in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that might’ve been a bit inappropriate.”

You just shoot him a look before returning your attention to your work. It’s not even a conversation worth having, in your eyes. But despite your obvious dismissal, Geiszler doesn’t seem ready to give up.

“You’re not interested in coming to drink with the team, then?” He asks in a wheedling tone, as though he’s talking to a pouting child.

“No.” You say. Your tone is blunt to the point of rudeness, but you’re past caring.

“Well, what about having a drink with me?”

That makes you pause, and you raise your head once more just so you can blink at him. His expression is open and guileless, unchanging even as you blink suspiciously at him. He seems earnest, and for a moment you feel a little guilty. 

Maybe Geiszler does have a point. Shutting yourself up in your makeshift lab away from everyone else certainly hasn’t done you any favours in the friendship department; if anything, it’s done even more damage to the possibility of building up genuine relationships with your co-workers. And Geiszler has been genuinely nice to you, even if he has acted like a total dick on occasion. 

“A drink?” You ask cautiously.

“Yeah,” Geiszler leans forward, clearly seeing your hesitance as an opportunity. “Why not? I can come back this evening with another bottle of moonshine – we can drink it here! We don’t even have to leave the room. It’ll just be a casual hang-out, me and you. You could use a distraction, don’t you think?”

You chew at your lip, thinking. Maybe he’s right – maybe you could use a distraction.

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” You say, trying to muster up some degree of enthusiasm.

Your attempt at levity falls completely flat. Geiszler, bless his heart, doesn’t even seem to notice.

The alcohol that’s available in Bridgehead is expensive considering it’s usually brewed secretly and against regulations, but it makes up for the price by being so strong that it could damn near blow your head right off.

After only a single drink, you start to feel a little light-headed and giggly. It’s nicer than you had expected. Your dissertation and all of your uncertainty surrounding the Quaritch situation was more stressful than you had fully realised, and the opportunity to relax like this is even nicer than you had expected.

Your legs are thrown up on one of the spare desks as you lounge back in an office chair, laughing openly at the way Geiszler is slurring his words. You may be a little tipsy, but Geiszler is well on his way to being wasted. 

It’s probably inevitable that the conversation turns back to you and Quaritch’s odd little arrangement. You can’t even be irritated about it; your mood is cushioned by the alcohol now, making you a little bit more agreeable to discussing things. Besides, complaining about it is kind of cathartic.

“I just don’t get it, man.” Geiszler is saying, his chin cradled in his hands as he stares at you with wide eyes. He’s clearly had too much of the very strong moonshine; he can hardly sit up straight. “Like… why him?”

You just sigh, tilting your head back so you can stare at the panelled ceiling way above your head. “I don’t know. Would it be very shallow to point out the fact that he’s literally beautiful?”

Geiszler snorts a little drunken laugh, before inclining his head in acknowledgement. “No, that’s fair actually.”

You laugh with him, but only for a moment. Maybe the small glass of moonshine has rotted your brain, because you end up softening as you think of Quaritch and all the illicit little encounters you’ve stolen away with him so far. 

“The Na’vi as a whole are physically attractive,” Geiszler notes, reaching up to push his glasses clumsily up the bridge of his nose. “But why are you so fixated on him? He mostly just ignores you when he’s not trying to screw you.”

You flush at that, a little humiliated. You know he’s likely just protective of you like a good friend should be, but you don’t like how that paints you as some kind of pathetic little idiot that’s just desperate for attention.

“Other than the fact that he’s biologically and physically perfect-” You soldier on even as Geiszler snorts at your words, “He’s gentle with me. I don’t necessarily think I’d call him sweet, but… I think he could be, if he wanted to.”

There’s a brief silence. Geiszler nods, lips pursed in an expression of exaggerated drunken thoughtfulness as he seems to mull this information over. After a long moment, he starts to snicker.

“I can’t lie, man, that’s not very cool. You’re clinging onto this guy because he could be sweet if he wanted to? Damn.” He drawls. “I mean, it’s Quaritch. I don’t think sweet is in his vocabulary, unless he’s making fun of you.”

It seems like the moonshine has gotten rid of the last remnants of Geiszler’s filter. You’re in a difficult position to argue, too, because he’s sort of right.

You just sigh. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

That seems to encourage him. He takes another deep gulp of his drink, wincing at the taste, before shuffling a little closer to where you’re sitting.

“I do have another question,” He says slowly, a tiny grin beginning to grow across his face. “How did it… you know… Fit?”

You nearly choke at that question, a horrified laugh bubbling out of your mouth. 

“Oh my god, don’t ask me questions like that, you little creep!” You slap at his shoulder, hard.

He yelps and pulls away, but now he’s laughing too. “Alright, alright! Can’t blame a man for being a little curious!”

Despite the topic of conversation, you find yourself feeling at ease. It’s comfortable sitting here and sharing a drink in your little lab like this; it’s the first time since you’ve arrived on Pandora that you’ve really felt like you have a friend. It’s nice.

Geiszler is still smiling, but his eyes have a somewhat serious gleam to them when he turns to you again. There’s a beat of silence, during which the easy and comfortable atmosphere seems to shift a little. The air turns a little more intense, and all of a sudden you find yourself growing somewhat uncomfortably aware of how close he’s actually sitting to you.

“Hey,” He murmurs with a soft sigh. “I know we’re joking about it, but you really do deserve better. You know that, right?”

You glance down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. You guess you do know that, on some level, but you’ve never truly had a crush this intense on anyone before — and you’ve certainly never actually had anyone on his level interested in you before, even if that interest only extends so far as taking what he wants from your body.

“Maybe.” You mumble non-committedly, setting your glass back on the table. It’s almost full still; you don’t particularly want to drink anymore.

Geiszler shuffles in his seat, before reaching out and placing his hand cautiously but firmly across your thigh.

The touch has your back stiffening, your posture going ram-rod straight in your chair as you turn to look at him in disbelief. It’s an unusually intimate touch from him, one that has connotations that are more than friendly. But then he leans in, and ends up practically hanging off your shoulder in an effort to keep his balance.

You relax, if only slightly. Is he so drunk that he hasn’t even noticed where his hand has fallen?

But then Geiszler speaks again, and any thoughts that his hand placement may have been accidental are dashed. “Listen, I’ve… I’ve liked you for a while now. And it’s been kinda tough to see you mooning over Quaritch — I could treat you so much better. I would treat you so much better.”

Your stomach sinks, dread weighing it down heavily until it feels as though it's sitting on the floor. “Oh. Geiszler, I don’t-”

But Geiszler just keeps ploughing ahead.

“The dildo thing was a joke, but I also thought that– well, that maybe you just needed to get that curiosity out of your system. And then you actually got with him, which is fine by the way! I don’t mind! But now I’m thinking that surely you’ve worked out all your curiosity about how Na’vi sex works-”

Your mouth falls open, horrified. Is that what he thought was happening? That you were just ‘working out your curiosity’? Did he really think that your feelings were so inconsequential that they could be gotten over so easily?

“-I thought that, well, since it’s so obvious that Quaritch isn’t interested in you in the same way you are him, that maybe you’d realise it was time to move on. And I know that you’re upset, but I’m right here. And I swear I’d be good to you-”

“Jesus,” You blurt, rearing back.

To your horror, Geiszler just shuffles closer yet again. Maybe the alcohol has given him delusional levels of self-confidence, because he doesn’t even seem to notice how you’re attempting to pull away from him.

“The guys in the lab still laugh over how moony-eyed you get over him, you know,” He says, as though to compound your embarrassment. “Especially considering all he really does is ignore you. I would never do that. I’d never leave lonely like that. I’d– I’d sleep with you every night — And I don't just mean sex! Sex would be great too, obviously, amazing even, but I want you in my bed every night, just sleeping. I want to be able to curl up behind you and hold you close, and I could keep you warm under all the blankets-"

“Fucking hell, Geiszler-” You blurt, attempting to slap his hand away from your thigh. It stays firmly planted, and he just keeps leaning in as he babbles away.

It’s like he’s taken the few minor complaints you had made about your little thing with Quaritch (details that you had only shared because you thought you had been gossiping with a friend!) and used it to fuel his confidence in coming onto you. You can’t even escape because he’s right in front of you; he’s not a particularly large man, but he’s drunk and heavy and leaning on you in such a way that you’re struggling to get out from beneath his weight.

“Stop,” You order firmly, trying to push at his shoulder as gently as you can manage. It seems to have no effect; he just keeps ploughing ahead as though you hadn’t spoken at all.

“I know that it’s not going to be the same as when you’re with Quaritch, obviously,” He says, speaking even quicker now as if he knows you’re going to try and interrupt, “There are some pretty obvious physical differences, but I would make you feel good — I know I would-”

“Geiszler,” You attempt a reasoning sort of tone, but you’re too impatient for it to sound convincing. “Seriously. I– I consider you a friend, but I don’t see you like–”

He doesn’t even let you finish. His face contorts in a frown, cheeks all flushed from the alcohol. Honestly, he looks a little pathetic like this.

“But I’d treat you better than he does.” He says, leaning forward insistently as though he just can’t understand what the problem is. “I actually like you. If it’s– if it’s sexual compatibility you’re worried about-”

“It’s not!”

“I don’t think it’d be a problem! I'd take you gentle and slow and give you everything you deserve. Or I could pull your hair and take you hard if that's what you wanted, either! I’ll do anything you want, honestly.”

You recoil at that, your face scrunching up in distaste. The thought alone makes your body tense; you can’t think of anything less arousing.

Your attention is momentarily pulled away from Geiszler’s pitiful grovelling by a quiet scuffling sound by the door. You glance over, distracted, before doing a goddamn double take. You think for a moment you’re hallucinating, shock and dread pooling in your stomach at the sight of a familiar tall blue figure standing in the doorway.

The sight of Quaritch leaning lazily against the doorframe with his arms crossed nearly makes you scream. You have no idea how long he’s been standing there, but his expression is decidedly unimpressed. 

“Oh.” You blurt, staring at him wide-eyed.

Quaritch doesn’t even say anything. One of his eyebrows just creeps higher, before his eyes wander down over your body and land on Geiszler’s hand clasped around your thigh. His glare hardens, his mouth firming into a thin line.

Embarrassment floods you with prickly heat, and you take a deep, somewhat panicked breath. He has no reason to be angry with you, you tell yourself frantically. This is the first time he’s bothered to come looking for you in weeks!

Besides, you’re not actually doing anything wrong! Quartich had told you clearly that he wasn’t looking for anything serious and had never made any kind of attempt at discussing just what the hell you two were doing together, so it’s not as though he can be surprised that you’ve maybe decided to spend time with someone else. It’s unfortunate that he’s arrived to hear Geiszler’s gross drunken confession, but what can you do?

Geiszler, distressingly, doesn’t even seem to notice that you’re looking over his shoulder with a distinctly horrified expression.

“I just want you to feel good. You can sit on my face – I don’t even care if I can’t breathe-” He rambles his fingers squeezing hopefully around your thigh even as you try to pry his hand off.

Your expression drops, your eyes squeezing shut. The humiliation swells, thick and choking. You feel utterly pinned down and trapped by the combination of Quaritch’s big yellow eyes and the feeling of Geiszler’s sweaty palm clutching at your bare thigh. 

Before you can shut Geiszler down or even point out that you’re not alone anymore, Quaritch pushes himself off the doorframe and steps into the room properly.

“Nice offer,” He drawls, his eyes sharp and bright as he watches Geiszler like a cat stalking a mouse. “But she won’t be needing that.”

The sound of Quaritch’s voice is more effective in getting Geiszler’s hands off you than any of your own protests or pushing, because he whips his hands back and whirls. His movements are sloppy from the alcohol and he nearly overbalances off his chair when he spins around to get a look at who has just walked in.

The blood visibly drains out of Geiszler’s face as he tilts his head back to stare up at the towering form of Quaritch as he steps closer. You can’t blame him; Quaritch looks scary right now, all clench-jawed and sharp-eyed as he stalks forward with curiously animal grace.

And yet, Geiszler seems gripped by what is either drunken bravery or sheer stupidity, because he squares his shoulders and sets his jaw as he stares up at Quaritch.

“Why are you here?” He demands belligerently. “Leave her alone!”

Quaritch tilts his head, before his mouth widens into a mean smile. “I’m not the one sexually harassing her, puke. Why don’t you beat it now, hm?”

You groan quietly, burying your face in your hands. How could things have developed like this? You find yourself burning with humiliation, wishing that the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

Geiszler doesn’t seem to be getting the message at all. He grabs at your waist possessively, heedless of the way you jolt and hiss at him, or the way you try slapping his hands away.

“She doesn’t even want you!” Geiszler declares stupidly, slurring a little.

That declaration doesn’t garner the reaction that Geiszler had been expecting. Quaritch’s expression turns unmistakably amused, his lips tilting up into a smug kind of smirk. He doesn’t even bother arguing back; instead, he reaches forward and takes a hold of the back of Geiszler’s shirt with a single, enormous hand.

It’s almost comical how easily Quaritch is able to lift Geiszler, using his grip on the back of his shirt to haul him into the air like a bold puppy even as he kicks and flails. It doesn’t even seem to take any effort on his part; Quaritch looks bored as he turns and marches Geiszler to the door, before tossing him through the entryway without fanfare.

The door slides shut, and then suddenly you and Quaritch are alone together. His big hand slaps at the button to lock the door, and the hydraulics hiss as the locking mechanisms engage.

Panic seizes you. Fuck. This is what you’ve been hoping to avoid! 

When Quaritch turns back to face you, you blurt out, “What the fuck was that?”

Quaritch pauses. It’s clear that this isn’t the reaction he had been expecting of you, because he sends you a look of pure disbelief, raising his eyebrows so high that his brow wrinkles from the effort of it.

“You better be joking, darlin’.” He says, an edge of warning in his voice as he steps back over to you.

That little hint of danger in his tone is enough to send a shiver down your spine, but you keep your shoulders back and your chin jutted out stubbornly.

“I was handling it.” You say simply, folding your arms across your chest and scowling at him. “He was just drunk and stupid, he didn’t-”

Quaritch snorts, then swiftly closes the distance between you. You hardly even get a chance to react before he’s right in front of you, crouching down so he can talk to you at eye level.

“Don’t tell me he didn’t mean it,” He says, his voice low and full of warning. “I'm surprised he didn't come in his pants the second he touched you. The only thing he's wanted for months now is to get in between your legs.”

He sounds… jealous? It’s almost hard to believe. Only a short time ago, you would have been delighted at the thought. But now, you feel your impatience bubbling up, close to overflowing. He has no right to jealousy!

“What happens between my legs is none of your business,” You snap, your arms tightening defensively over your chest. “I can’t see why the fuck it would matter to you whether he touches me or not.”

Quaritch’s eyes flare wide for a moment, his lips pressed together tight as he watches you intently.

“Don’t take that fucking tone with me,” He warns quietly, his voice low and even and sort of terrifying. “You telling me you let all those cockless little losers touch up on you like that? You telling me that's not my business?”

You almost choke, shocked by the sheer audacity of the man. Though his eyes are still flashing from the warning over your tone, he’s obviously amused by you, as though he thinks this whole conversation is just a little joke.

You narrow your eyes and tilt your chin up boldly as you scowl up at him. “Yes. I could let the whole fucking science department in between my legs, and it still wouldn't be any of your business."

Infuriatingly, that just makes Quaritch laugh. He shuffles closer to you, leaning his head down so close to you that you’re practically breathing each other’s air. One of his hands reaches out and clasps you by your hip, so big and hot as it pins you in place.

“You’re mouthy today,” He murmurs, fangs gleaming as he grins. “Does arguing like this get you wet, kid? You need to work off some steam?” 

Your face floods with heat as embarrassment burns through you. It's crass, but there's no denying that somewhere deep down you sort of do enjoy arguing with him. He never seems to have much patience for folly usually, and yet he meets your slightly bratty behaviour with amusement and a condescending grin. 

Quaritch is watching your expression carefully, and that smug grin only grows at whatever he sees there.

“Oh, you do like it.” He crows softly. “You want me angry, honey? You want to be put in your place?”

His hand drifts lower, coasting over the swell of your ass, and your breath catches in your throat — you nearly choke on it. Under your burning indignation, you feel heat coiling between your legs and you hate it.

“No,” You wheeze out, squirming as he leans in. You’ve ended up trapped between him and the desk behind you, pressed right up against it as he looms closer. “No. I’m angry at you.”

That makes him pause, the progress of his hand sliding down your ass halting. He leans back so that he can look at you properly, and squints at you. His expression is reminiscent of an old man peering at a piece of technology that he can’t work, and that thought has you forcibly biting down a hysterical giggle. The reminder that he’s so much older than you, even in this body, always sends an exciting sort of thrill running through you.

“You’re angry with me.” Quaritch repeats slowly, as though tasting how the words sound in his mouth. He doesn’t appear impressed. “And is this the same reason that you’ve suddenly been avoiding me?”

Ah. So he had noticed your absence. 

You keep your jaw set stubbornly, refusing to be cowed by his big intense eyes and overwhelming presence as he looms over you.

“Maybe.” You say shortly. “I don’t see why it matters.”

Quaritch damn near does a double take at that. He leans back, his brows drawing into a frustrated frown as he peers down at you. His reaction would be comical if you weren’t so busy trying to maintain your own composure.

“The hell..?” He mutters, before leaning back in with a scowl. “What the hell’s the matter with you, huh? For the past few months you’ve been everywhere, watching me every time I turned around, and then all of a sudden you just disappear the last few days and start acting all pissy. What the fuck happened, huh?”

You keep your arms crossed defensively over your chest as you glare at him, growing angry and defensive. He’s still got his hand spread across your ass, which makes it difficult to effectively scowl at him, but you manage all the same.

“You don’t have to act like you care. I get that I’ve been annoying and desperate and pathetic chasing after you, and I get that you’ve been fucking me out of- I don’t know, convenience or pity or whatever-”

“What–”

You plough on before Quaritch can interrupt you. “-But that doesn’t mean that it’s okay to treat me like shit, or to laugh at me–”

“When the fuck have I laughed at you?” Quaritch is clearly struggling to stay calm, but he’s never been a patient person and irritation is creeping very obviously into his demeanour. His shoulders are tense and his mouth is tight, his hand clenching in the back of your dress and scrunching it up against your ass.

“You think I’m stupid!” You burst out, that one stupid conversation with Geiszler still sitting at the forefront of your mind.

Quaritch just stares at you with the blankest expression you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t even look annoyed anymore, he just looks fed up.

“No,” He rumbles, using his grip on your ass to pull you closer to where he’s crouching on his haunches. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I do think you’re acting like a goddamn brat right now though, and I’m still waiting for an explanation.”

You swallow, some of the fight draining out of you. He’s not reacting like you had expected him to; you had thought he would scoff at you, or maybe even get angry at you for your unreasonable behaviour. But instead, you’ve got him looking at you with mildly irritated confusion, and he’s actually trying to get you to explain your feelings to him. It’s not how you thought this would go, and now you’re feeling a little wrong-footed.

You glance to the side, unable to meet his gaze. 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks,” You mumble trying not to sound petulant. “It was always me who came looking for you, and everyone has been laughing at me for ages now about how pathetic I am for mooning after you like I have been. I mean– fuck! Even now, the only times you’ve ever come to see me is after I’ve ignored you! It’s like you only want me when you think I won’t have you–”

Quaritch makes a soft scoffing noise in the back of his throat before reaching out and grabbing you by the wrist in an effort to stop you talking. It doesn’t work; you just get upset, and reach up to smack him on the chest. He doesn’t even blink as the blow glances off his chest, as though your fists are of no more consequence than a mildly irritating fly.

“Stop that.” He orders, sharp as ever. “Jesus, kid. Where’s all this coming from, huh? I leave for two weeks and you have a breakdown?”

That makes you pause, chest still heaving, just so you can stare blankly at him. The arms that you had crossed so defensively over your chest loosen just a little.

“You left?” You repeat, frowning.

That makes Quaritch snort, his eyes rolling. “All this cryin’ and you didn’t even notice? What’re you so upset over, then?”

“I-” You fumble, blinking wildly. You had been upset because you had been thinking that your relationship with Quaritch was entirely one-sided, all because Geiszler had suggested that he was using you for just sex. “I just– Geiszler said that–”

Quaritch’s expression darkens, his eyes narrowing. He doesn’t even let you finish, leaning in so that his face is pressed right up close to yours. For a moment, he says nothing; just watches you as you stutter and slowly trail off into silence.

You swallow, then try again. “He said that everyone was laughing at me. Because I like you a lot, and you’ve been ignoring me the best you can. So I stopped going looking for you or asking about you, for weeks, to see if you’d come to me and you didn’t–”

“Because I wasn’t here, kid.” Quaritch snaps, before taking a deep breath. It seems like him snapping at you was accidental, because he then makes a concentrated effort to keep his tone level. “The team was sent out on recon two weeks ago into the lowlands. You’ve been getting all twisted up in knots over nothing.”

Your mouth drops open, and you’re left gaping up at him like a total moron. Hot, thick embarrassment is beginning to curl in your stomach; Geiszler had never thought to mention that Quaritch wasn’t even in Bridgehead when you were all upset about him ignoring you, and that bastard definitely knew considering how close he was with the xeno guys that worked with the recoms. Fuck, you’ve just made a total fool of yourself.

“Oh.” You whisper, blinking at him as you stare back into his unwavering amber eyes. “I– I didn’t know.”

But Quaritch isn’t about to accept that as an answer so easily. His lips curl into a dangerous sort of grin, his eyelids sliding half-closed as he watches you, his face still so close to yours that your gaze keeps darting nervously down towards his mouth. He still hasn’t moved the hand on your ass, and you let out a startled little exhale when he flexes his grip to get a better handle on you.

“I only got back two days ago. I did come looking for you, but some of the guys out in the main lab said you weren’t in.” He says, speaking slowly and purposefully as though he thinks you’re not listening. “So I came today instead. Now, are you finished acting like a fucking lunatic?”

He had come looking for you? No one had ever mentioned that, you think wildly. And the guys in the main lab told him you weren’t in? That didn’t even make any sense – you were always in. You think back to Geiszler, and of his gentle insistence that Quaritch was uninterested, and feel your stomach sink slowly. You had thought he was your friend; your brain rebels at the idea that he was possibly planting doubts in your head just so he could worm his way closer and confess like that to you.

“So,” You say, frowning as your lower lip wobbles a little. “Geiszler was lying to me?”

Quaritch just tilts his head back and sighs through his nose, as though praying for patience. He’s usually such a foul-mouthed hard-ass that seeing him actually make an attempt to regulate himself when you’re upset is a little heart-warming, though you still feel stupid for allowing yourself to be pulled in by him.

“Why would you trust the little creep that’s been sending you sex toys and asking you questions about your sex life, huh?” He asks, his voice a little strained as though he’s forcing patience.

You just purse your lips, still frowning. “I thought we were friends.”

Quaritch just takes a breath and decides not to respond to that. Instead, the hand that’s not still holding you by the ass reaching back around to his back pocket, and he grapples with something there for a moment.

“Here, I got something for you. So no more sulking, got it?”

He doesn’t even give you any time to make any promises before he pulls something out from behind his back. It takes a moment to recognise it as a sample container, and it takes an even longer moment to recognise the pale pink tissue that’s curled up on the inside.

When recognition finally clicks, you let out a squealing gasp before you reach up to grab it.

“Holy shit! Holy shit, you got a biological specimen of the panopyra?”

Quaritch just grunts, but his tail curls in the air behind him. He’s clearly smug about his little gift to you, though his expression is still curiously hard to read. He stays quiet for a few moments as you study the sample in the plastic container, eagerly oohing and ahhhing in regular intervals.

You let out a soft, excited squeal again, beyond excited. You may have finished your dissertation, but you’re already eagerly planning your next research project and this sample will be perfect for that. You raise your head to look at him, directing your bright, sunny grin in his direction.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you-”

Quaritch just snorts, though his ears twitch in obvious satisfaction. “Yeah, yeah. You’re an easy little thing to please, ain’tcha?”

You don’t take offence to that; this is the second time that Quaritch has delivered panopyra samples to you in order to calm you down, and it’s been embarrassingly effective each time.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on a sample like this for months-!” You gush, clutching it tight to your chest as you bounce on your toes.

Quaritch just hums. He seems content enough to watch you giggle over the sample, but when you move to walk towards the sample fridge his hand tightens around your ass and keeps you still and pinned by his body.

“Where’re you going?”

“I need to put this in the fridge-”

“Nuh uh,” He murmurs, reaching out to take the container off of you and setting it firmly to the side on the desktop. “You ain’t going near that damn fridge. You telling me you’ve forgotten that little reward you promised me?”

That makes your breath catch in your throat, surprised anticipation bubbling in your belly. You had forgotten that particular promise, but now you find an excited smile growing on your face. And yet, even now, you feel a little hesitant.

“No,” You murmur, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I remember.”

His enormous blue hands coast up along your sides, ruffling the skirt of your dress and dragging it up slightly to expose more of your thighs. You let him, even leaning eagerly into his touch.

“You’ve been feeling neglected, huh?” He asks, his voice dropping into a low rumble that vibrates right into your chest. “That’s why you’re all pissy, right? You’ve been wanting more attention?”

“Yes,” You whisper stupidly, pressing into his hands as his palms glide along your lower back to rest on your ass again. “Yes.”

That makes him laugh, all deep and a little condescending as he leans in towards you. He takes a slow, deep inhale, his big flat nose pressed near your neck as he lets out a soft little groan of satisfaction.

“Fuck,” He rumbles. “I can smell you, kid. Arguing really does get you wet, doesn’t it?”

You flush with embarrassed heat, closing your eyes so that you don’t have to see him looking at you like that. It wasn’t the arguing that had affected you as much as the closeness and the overwhelming presence of Miles as he leaned in over you, impossibly big as he dealt with you with all the patience he could muster even when you were admittedly being a bit of a brat.

When you don’t answer, he sticks a hand under your dress and drags his fingers experimentally along the damp cotton of your underwear. You let out a sharp noise of surprise, but you can’t stop yourself from pressing down into his hand all the same.

“Oh yeah,” He grunts, sounding ridiculously pleased. “Needy little thing. I bet that pathetic little science bitch could just smell it off you – no wonder he was sniffin’ around you like that.”

“Miles,” You breathe, reaching out to hold onto his shoulders as he pulls you closer so that he can dip his fingers into your panties. “Please-”

He chuckles, and tucks his head into your neck before delivering a stinging little warning bite to your shoulder that has your knees weakening. “I know what I want for my reward.”

“Yeah?” You ask, starting to grin.

Your stomach twitches in anticipation, and you cling to him all the harder. You can only imagine what he’s going to ask for; your mind conjures images of you on your knees, the hot thickness of his cock heavy on your tongue as he moans over your head. You press your thighs together eagerly as you watch him, waiting for him to make another move.

But Quaritch doesn’t answer immediately. He just pulls back a little, ignoring your soft noise of complaint, before nosing his way down your torso. He stops when he gets to your navel and takes a deep breath, huffing quietly as he smells you. You can’t even be self-conscious about it, because judging by the pleased grunt he lets out he likes what he’s smelling.

“Drivin’ me crazy here,” He mumbles into your belly, hiking your dress up higher around your waist. “I’ve been thinking about this all week.”

You take a breath, your hands clenching around the thin fabric of his wifebeater. The knowledge that he’s been thinking of you is heady, especially since you had pretty much convinced yourself that he didn’t want you anywhere near him.

“Miles,” You whisper, reaching for his belt. “Do you want me to-”

But to your surprise, he pushes your hand away.

“Nah, honey,” He murmurs, his head dipping lower until that flat nose is pressed right up against the seat of your cotton panties. “Let me do my thing.”

You don’t think you could ever muster up the self-discipline to refuse him that, so all you can do is nod dumbly as he nuzzles his face into your clothed pussy. 

He inhales deeply into the crease of your thigh, before letting out a quiet little grunt. “You smell like strawberries. What is that?”

“My- my body lotion.” You wheeze, shivering against his face as you tilt your hips eagerly towards him.

“Yeah? Fuck, that’s good.” He breathes you in, before licking you through the fabric of your panties.

You jolt a little, and then one of Quaritch’s big hands closes around your thigh and pulls your leg up and over his shoulder. You abandon your hold on his shoulders in favour of grabbing at his head, your fingers scrabbling uselessly over his short hair.

The position opens you up to his hungry mouth, but it also leaves you a little unsteady on your feet; you’re only standing on one leg, the other thrown over his shoulder as he knees between your thighs, all hunched over so that he can fit his head between your legs. You’re still pressed up against the desk, which is probably the only reason you haven’t overbalanced and fallen on your ass.

“Miles-” You start to protest, muscles in your thighs already burning, but he cuts you off with a swift, stinging slap to your ass. There’s hardly any strength behind it, but it’s enough to warn you off complaining. 

The message is clear; this is his reward, and you’re to let him take it. Truthfully, you’re only happy to, and you press your hips towards his face eagerly as he licks insistently at your clit through the damp cloth barrier of your panties.

“You taste so good, kid.” He grunts against your cunt, pulling you against his face so that his words come out muffled and distorted.

“Pervert.” You say, your voice low and ragged as if you hadn’t been the one humping your cunt up against his face.

Quaritch just laughs, his grip on your thighs tightening. God, he’s so patient with you. It just makes you wetter.

When he pulls away, you almost whine. He looks amused at your reaction, though you don’t think he has much room to laugh at you; his own pupils are blown wide, the gold around his iris only a thin line around the edge as his ears twitch eagerly.

“Come on,” He grunts, his strong fingers squeezing at your ass as he hauls you forward so that you’re all pressed up against his body. “Come here to me, darlin’-”

You yelp a little, surprised when he uses his leverage on you to hold you tight as he rolls back on his heels. In a movement that’s almost too quick for you to follow, Quaritch leans back so that he’s laying on the ground all spread out beneath you. You end up straddling his chest, your knees all splayed out on either side of his waist with your dress all rucked up around your hips.

“Ain’t that a pretty sight,” Quaritch coos, reaching out to run his hands all over your thighs, pushing your dress up even higher. “Fuck, mama, just look at you. Take this off, c’mon.”

You don’t even hesitate. His gaze is searing, and you feel hot and overwhelmed under his attention – you just want to please him, to make him happy, and so you reach for your dress and pull it off eagerly.

When you’re left sitting on his chest in nothing but your underwear, Quaritch lets out a soft huff of appreciation. His eyes dart rapidly over your body, before reaching up and wrapping his thick fingers into the fabric of your panties. He tears them like paper, ripping them right off you with ease before doing the same to your bra, ignoring your shout of indignation.

“Oh, you bastard, why would you do that? I don’t have unlimited underwear on this fucking planet-!” You start to complain, but Quaritch obviously isn’t listening to a damn word you’re saying.

“Still so fucking mouthy,” He rumbles though he doesn’t really sound annoyed about it. If anything, he sounds amused.

When his hands grab at your hips, his long fingers squeezing at the plush softness of your thighs as he pulls you up further on his chest, you start to grin. This position feels familiar, and when you glance over your shoulder you can see the prominent bulge in his camo trousers.

You think of the reward he’s requested, and butterflies erupt in your tummy at the thought – you had initially guessed that he might want a blowjob, but now you’re guessing he wants something else based on this position you’re in.

“Want me to ride you?” You ask, biting at your lip as you grin at him coyly. The idea is exciting, and you try not to look too eager for it.

Quaritch just grins back at you, his sharp teeth on full display as his nose crinkles a little. He manages to make what should be an innocuous expression look intimidatingly cheeky, and he watches you with great interest as you grind lightly against his muscled chest.

“Yeah,” He says, his grin turning wicked. “Something like that.”

But then his hands land firmly on your ass and push you up his chest, away from his dick. You go with great confusion, your expression all scrunched up as he pushes you toward his face.

“Sit on my face, honey. Come on.”

You nearly jolt, staring at him in disbelief. “I– wait, what? I can’t do that-”

Quaritch makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat, and doesn’t stop his tugging at you. He’s strong too, so he’s able to pull you right up to his head with minimal effort.

“I had to listen to your creepy little friend talk about every wet dream he’s about you,” He points out, his lip curling as he stares up at you. “And now you’re refusing me this? Come on, mama, let me get my mouth on you.”

His hands are strong and persistent, and you end up with your knees splayed out around Quaritch’s head, hovering nervously above his face. It’s an embarrassingly exposed position to be in, and you take a shaky breath as you stare down at him between your legs. When his tongue pokes out to lick at his lips, you feel your stomach tighten in eager anticipation.

“I-” You flounder, mortified. “I’ll crush you.”

That makes him laugh, teeth flashing.

“You can try, kid.” He says, his smile so sharp that it nearly takes your breath away. “You can try.”

Maybe it’s the fact that he appears genuinely eager about getting his mouth on your pussy, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s still so obviously irritated by what he had overheard when Geiszler was running his mouth earlier, but you find yourself willing to give it a chance. You’ve never tried anything like this before, but Quaritch clearly feels as though he has something to prove – who are you to deny him the chance to show off that he’s so obviously craving?

The next time his hands come to rest over your hips, you allow him to slowly lower you down until his mouth is laid over your cunt. When he opens wide, the hot wet roughness of his tongue sliding over the swollen heat of your clit, you grab at the short bristly hair at the top of his head and jerk your hips away from him.

“Oh!” You blurt, startled at the sensation. It’s so much more intense than you had been expecting – Quaritch has eaten your pussy before, many times, but it’s different being on the receiving end of it when your whole weight is leaning down on him like this.

Quaritch laughs again, low enough that it rumbles up your spine and between your legs. He tilts his head, obviously testing your grip on his hair, and grins wickedly up at you.

“Got a good grip, mama?” He asks in a tone that suggests you’ll need it.

“I– oh!” You wheeze a shocked breath when he pulls your hips back down, so firmly that you can’t even think of lifting away from him as he opens his mouth wide to welcome your cunt.

Even sitting on top of his face with a hand clenched in his hair, you don’t have much control over this. You gasp, trailing off into a moan as Quaritch’s tongue works its way inside you. He's meaner with it now, never staying where you want him, riling you up and then pulling away, placing warning bites on your thighs or your clit when you complain or whine too much.

Embarrassingly, you do need that grip on his hair. Your fingers clench tight in the short but soft bristles of his hair, rolling your hips up, trying to get Quaritch where you want him. His big hands curl around your thighs and keep you pinned to his face, relentless with his tongue.

You direct his mouth to the best of your ability, with words and the occasional tug on his hair, moans falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at your pussy. Quaritch mostly ignores your tugging, pulling at your hips in turn to keep you where he wants you; mindless, you go where you’re told, move where you’re pushed, each small groan and whimper that falls from your lips just spurring him on more.

It feels so much better than you had expected. Your previous hesitancy has completely vanished, and you find yourself grinding your pussy down against his mouth hard as you chase his tongue. He’s so big, so strong, you’re not worried about hurting him like you would be if he was human. The thought of you being enough to crush him is almost laughable.

The rough texture of his tongue rasps over your clit and you shiver hard, a soft cry ripped from your throat. You feel animal, mindless, and you clutch at his hair tight as you hold his head still, your hips bucking wildly against him as you grind your clit into his tongue. 

The pleasure of it nearly steals your breath away, air catching in your chest as you rut your hips into his mouth messily, clumsily. It must be difficult for him to breathe, and yet he doesn’t complain. He doesn’t even make any attempt to slow you down, or to tell you to go easy; he just groans into you, his grip on your hips tightening as his hips hump the air behind you.

You wonder if he was this fucking eager when he was human, or if it’s his new Na’vi senses that makes him so fucking horny for this. His sense of smell is superior now, as is his sense of taste, and his sensitive ears means that he is hyper-aware of every twitch, every moan, every minor reaction. It seems like he’s determined to use his new senses to absolutely devour you.

You’re humping your cunt into his wide, eager mouth hard enough that you probably would have caused a pretty serious neck injury if he were human, but he’s just grunting eagerly into you, his little noises vibrating right up into your clit as his hands on your ass encourage you to ride his face harder. Who are you to deny him what he wants? You fuck your pussy into his mouth just as he wants you to, unrestrained in a way you could never be with a human partner.

That tight coil of pleasured heat trembles deep in your belly, your breaths coming hard and fast as you wheeze. Your orgasm is creeping up on you shamefully quickly; you’re shocked by the sheer speed of it.

“Oh god,” you moan stupidly. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait!”

With an embarrassing squelching sort of noise, Quaritch’s mouth finally detaches from your pussy. He pulls back, already frowning. 

“What?”

His voice is gravelly enough to have you shivering with the sound of it alone, and you gasp, lungs burning as your chest heaves for air.

“I’m gonna come,” You squeal, your hips still twitching. The air in the lab is cold against your sweat-slick skin, and you’re already desperate to feel his mouth on you again. “Fuck! I was- I was gonna come.”

Quaritch just grunts, clearly displeased that you had interrupted his efforts just to make an announcement like that. “Then come.”

He moves to lean back in, but a swift jab to his head has him pausing with a scowl. He’s breathing hard, his eyes a little hazy and unfocused, his mouth slick and shining. There’s a glimmer of sweat along his brow and his chest, his little bioluminescent dots glowing brightly. He’s so pretty – you want to sit on his face again just so you can stop looking at it, overwhelmed by how handsome he is.

“Are you-” You shiver, trying to lean away from the heat of his breath as it ghosts over your slick skin. “Are you gonna fuck me?”

“Maybe later,” He grunts, taking the opportunity to clumsily lift up his CO2 respirator to take a sip of air. “C’mon, sit back down.”

“I wanna come with you inside me,” You say. You’re trying not to sound whiny, but you’re pretty sure you miss the mark. 

“Greedy,” Quaritch grunts. He bites at your thigh, a little harshly. “This ain’t for you. This is my reward, remember?”

The whimper you let out is a little embarrassing, but you nod all the same, unable to resist him. He seems satisfied with that all the same, and lays his head back down against the floor. He shifts a little as though getting comfortable, before gesturing at you with his chin.

“C’mon, princess, let’s go. Keep grinding on me like that – I liked it.”

“Okay,” You breathe, allowing your hips to be guided back down onto his open mouth. 

His tongue moves eagerly and with purpose, tracing a slick path up and around your clit and making you writhe against his mouth as his hands keep you pinned to his face. His tongue keeps working you until you’re beyond slick, dripping and trembling all over his mouth and chin. The palm of his hand is laid flat against your ass, and he uses it to push at you gently, trying to coax you into moving against him like before.

Your thighs are shaking a little, but you still push yourself to move. Your fingers clench and unclench in his hair, knuckles burning from the force of your grip, before you start to move your hips insistently against his mouth again.

“Oh, god.” You sigh, closing your eyes against the force of the heat coiling in your belly. “Oh fuck, Miles, please keep doing that-”

He sucks at your clit hard, thrusts his large tongue inside of you. Licks at you hard and flat before suckling at you with vigour as you grind and rock like a mad thing against his face. You feel like you’re losing your mind, as though his tongue is actually fucking you stupid.

You can’t help it; when his tongue is laid flat against your whole cunt, dripping drool between your legs, you start grinding against his mouth desperately. It feels unbelievably good, and you let out pathetic little mewling moans as you hump your pussy against his face. He holds out his tongue for you to use, and you use it eagerly.

When you finally come, you nearly cry with the relief of it. Pleasure fizzes up your spine, emanating from where you’re rubbing your clit frantically against the mind-blowing texture of Quaritch’s tongue, and you throw your head back as your hips spasm. Your mouth opens wide as you gasp for breath, but you can’t even find the air to make a sound as you shake apart on Quaritch’s tongue.

But it’s only a short-term relief, because Quaritch doesn’t let up. His tongue just keeps going, and soon you’re crying out and trying to squirm desperately away, but you're unable to go far as his hands are like iron bars around your thighs keeping you in place. It's like he’s using his goddamn mouth as a weapon, and you’re soon over-sensitive and teary-eyed.

“Miles,” You gasp, wheezing as a few overwhelmed tears spill over onto your cheeks. “Miles, it’s too much, too much-”

“You can take it.” He grunts, and you can feel him grinning into your pussy.

You shudder, clutching his hair tight as you jerk your hips against his mouth. “Fuck,” You wail, long and drawn out, “I can’t, I can’t-”

He laughs, so mean, the sound rumbling into your cunt and making you whine. He doesn’t let up for a second, and soon you go from twitching away from his mouth to pressing eagerly back down against his tongue. His ears twitch where they’re pressed up tight against your thighs, no doubt eagerly taking in all the pitiful little gasps and whines spilling from your lips.

“Miles, Miles, oh, fuck, Miles-” You babble senselessly, your eyes squeezing shut tight as you rock mindlessly against his face. 

“Whiny bitch,” He says, turning his head to bite at the soft pudge of your thigh. He sounds fond. “All that cryin’ about not being able to take it, but look at you go.”

And with that, he buries his face firmly back into your cunt.

A second orgasm is creeping up on you so quickly that you can hardly believe it, your whole body slick from sweat and trembling from the sheer strain rocking your body. Quaritch’s tongue is absolutely relentless, his mouth sealing over your clit as his hand coasts over your ass. 

Two of his big fingers prod at your entrance before sliding inside of you, the stretch made easy from how slick and wet you are. You cry out hoarsely, head tilting back toward the ceiling; one of his fingers alone is enough to have your head spinning as it nudges insistently at the soft spongey spot deep inside you that makes your legs tremble, but two feel so satisfying.

You cry out again as you writhe on his face, humping into his mouth and grinding back on his fingers, but no matter where you squirm you can't get away from Quaritch’s vicious mouth and probing fingers – you don’t even know if you want to. 

There's no relief; your first orgasm has barely abated before you can feel another one building, as Quaritch forcibly and relentlessly pushes you back to the edge. 

It's so much. It’s too much. You’re sobbing and begging, although for what you’re not sure, since you’re asking Quaritch for more just as often as you’re asking him to stop. He’s added another finger by now, sucking hard on your clit as he fingers you until your eyes are rolling.

You don’t even know half of the shit that’s coming out of your mouth right now; it’s a frantic mix of Miles and please and oh god more and oh my god I'm gonna-!, and then an embarrassing amount of incoherent sobbing. Something big is building inside of you, and you writhe above Quaritch as it builds up bigger and bigger until you’re sure you’re going to explode.

And then you do.

Your orgasm hits you like a goddamn train, crashing over you as your back arches and your muscles tense so tight that you nearly pull something.

Quaritch finally pulls his mouth back, but his fingers don’t stop; you come so hard that it practically bursts out of you, squirting all over his fingers and his chest.

“Holy fuck,” Quaritch says, surprised for a moment before he melts into a laugh. “Oh, fuck, look at you go, kid, Jesus Christ–”

You’re still shaking through the aftershocks of it, and it sounds as though his voice is coming from a very long way away. Even through the haze, when you look down between your legs you’re able to recognise the hungry, awestruck look on his face.

“Oh, god,” You choke out hoarsely, your words coming out on a wheeze. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t– I’ve never–”

Quaritch doesn’t even let you finish. He just grabs at your ass and sits up, holding you as if you weigh nothing before practically tossing you onto your back on the cold linoleum floor of the lab. Within the same second he’s crawling over you, big and imposing as his broad shoulders and muscular chest loom over you.

“The fuck are you apologising for?” He grunts, knocking your thighs aside so he can settle the bulk of his body into the cradle between your legs. “Jesus– c’mere, can you take me?”

You blink hazily, glancing down to see that he’s shoving his pants harshly down his legs and letting them pool around his knees. His cock is as impressive as ever, big and flushed pretty purple as it strains against his lower stomach.

You clench around nothing, feeling so miserably empty now that his fingers are no longer filling you up. You’ve gotten so used to taking the girth of him that now you find yourself craving that beautiful sensation of fullness he always gives you.

“Yes,” You gasp, spreading your thighs wider. “Yes, I can take you.”

That’s all he needs to hear. He pushes his cock inside of your soaking cunt with minimal difficulty despite the ridiculous size of him, though your eyes roll back in your head as you feel the burning pain of him stretching you before he slides deep enough inside that you just feel full.

“Atta girl,” He snarls, pushing his face into your throat and grunting as he grabs at one of your legs so he can pull your thigh up over his hip. “Fuck, you’ve gotten so good at this.”

It’s true – you have gotten good at this. Your body opens up around the thickness of his cock with relative ease now after the initial pain of his entry and all you can do is sigh dreamily at the sensation of being stuffed so full, tightening eagerly around him as he goes to pull out so he can push in again.

When Quaritch starts moving, he uses you like a goddamn sex toy, and you play the part so well. You’re still so fucked out and loose from the two intense orgasms he'd given you, your head still spinning as you gasp your heaving breaths every time he fucks into you. It feels like his cock is in your goddamn lungs, driving the breath out of you every time he humps into you.

His grip on your hips is bruising, every thrust sending your head lolling limply on your shoulders. You’ve already been immensely satisfied by your own orgasms; this is all about Quaritch. He lifts your hips to a better angle, your upper body all splayed out on the floor as he ruts into you sloppily.

“Shit, mama,” He groans, baring his teeth against your shoulder. “Fuck, that’s it. Oh, you’d be fucking wasted on one of those dickless little science majors, you know that? That little shit wouldn’t have the first idea how to handle you. You think you’d be satisfied with him?”

“No!” You sob, clenching up around Quaritch’s cock hard.

You hardly know which way is up, never mind who he’s talking about, as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you back and forth over his dick like you’re a goddamn doll. Being used like this, as though you weigh nothing, is so much hotter than you ever could have imagined. If you weren’t so fucked out, you think you probably would have appreciated this a lot more.

You can hardly even speak, unable to muster up the brainpower required to form words when you’re being fucked like this. You know that soft, breathy sort of moans are being driven out of you with every roll of Quaritch’s hips, soft little uh uh uh uh's, but you don’t have the presence of mind to regulate yourself.

Quaritch doesn’t last as long as usual; it seems like having you riding his face had worked him up far more than you had expected, because soon he’s coming with a snarled roar. To your surprise, he doesn’t come inside like he usually does.

Instead he pulls out, fists his cock, and spills his load all over your bare stomach. There’s a truly ridiculous amount of it considering his size, and it drips all over your belly, your hips, and even spills down over your pussy. You don’t complain; you can barely even form a coherent thought other than the quiet complaint you murmur because you feel so empty now.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Quaritch lowers himself down so that his chest is pressed to your naked breasts. He’s careful not to crush you, pushing his face into your throat and inhaling deeply before pressing a clumsy kiss to your temple. 

You’re still reeling, eyes unfocused and mind hazy and stupid as you turn your head and push your face into his chest. He’s so warm, and you shiver against him as he gathers you into his arms. As good as his fucking you is, having him cradle you like this in the aftermath is almost better. You relish the skin to skin contact, the way his thick fingers coast over your sweaty bare back.

You think you could probably lay there against his massive chest, floating in the aftermath, forever. You’re so comfortable, all loose and floaty and so, so satisfied, the thought of moving doesn’t even cross your mind.

So naturally, Quaritch decides to sit up with a grunt. You whine, reaching up to slap at his chest without opening your eyes. He pays you no mind, reaching to tuck himself away with one hand, using the other arm to hold you still against his chest.

“Fuck,” He grunts as he buttons up his trousers single-handedly. “I needed that. Missed you when I was out there in the jungle. Been thinking about that for weeks now.”

You let out an absentminded grunt, just to show you're listening. You’re still laying limp against his chest, turning your face into cushions of his pecs.

Quaritch laughs, clearly pleased with the job he’s done on you. You feel his nose nudge at the top of your head, and sigh contentedly, enjoying the intimacy of him holding you tight. But then his hand comes down to lay an open-palmed slap against your ass, and you jolt with a startled squawk at the sting.

“C’mon,” He grunts, pushing himself up. His grip on you loosens, and you slip bonelessly down to the floor. “Up and at ‘em.”

“What?” You mumble blearily, rolling your head around limply on your neck. You feel completely boneless, as though Quaritch has managed to fuck every bit of rigidity out of you.

To your bewilderment, Quaritch heaves himself to his feet. While you’ve been fucked dumb, Quaritch seems to have been energised by it. He rotates his waist, stretching his arms over his head with a wide-mouthed yawn that displays his sharp teeth, before rolling his shoulders in quick, sharp circles.

“Let's go get you some dinner.” He says, stretching his back. Something cracks in his spine and he moans in satisfaction. “You’ve been feeling neglected, yeah? I’ll get you some food.”

That’s not what you had meant by feeling neglected, and you roll your eyes and huff. You’re still laying completely nude on the floor, and you turn your face away from him. He’s still standing over you, hands on his hips as he waits for you to stand. When it becomes clear that you’re not going to be  getting up any time soon, he clicks his tongue impatiently. 

You yelp, startled, when his big hands fold around your waist and lift you right up off the floor. Your knees buckle under you when he sets you on your feet, and you stumble for a moment on wobbly legs like a newborn calf.

Quaritch doesn’t immediately move to steady you – when you glance up, you find him watching you with a poorly hidden smirk, clearly pleased with himself.

“Why can’t we rest for a damn minute?” You complain, reaching to hold tight to his arm as your legs tremble. “Fuck.”

Quaritch just snorts, watching you intently as your knees shake. “Quit the whining, princess. I’m doing something nice. There ain’t no fancy restaurants around here, in case you haven’t noticed. I’ll bring you to the commissary and get you food on my meal ticket – next best thing.”

There must be something seriously wrong with you, because you find yourself blushing over that.

“I have come all over me.” You complain, as he picks up your dress and tosses it to you. It hits your head and tangles you in it, and you attempt to wrangle your way out of it blindly.

“Mm.” He hums, rolling his shoulders as his eyes rove over your naked body. “So? I’ve got your squirt all over my face.”

You shoot him a dirty look, cheeks flooding with heat when you realise that he certainly does, because his face is still dripping with it. He’s a master of missing the point, and you suspect that he does it on purpose.

“We have to clean up before we go anywhere. I need a shower.” You sigh, reaching for a collection of tissues. You wipe at your belly, cleaning up the worst of the cum, before grabbing another handful and gesturing at him to lean down.

You’re somewhat surprised when he does as you ask, bending down and watching you with obvious amusement as you wipe the evidence of your release off his face. As you clean him he leans in, nostrils flaring as he sniffs. His eyes flutter half-shut, before he blinks them back open again.

“Nah,” He murmurs, his expression relaxing in a smirk of pure self-satisfaction. “You can take a shower later. C’mon – let’s get you that food.”

You’re still flushed and embarrassed as you wriggle your way back into your dress. You already know that you’re going to give in and do whatever he wants, but you’re still feeling argumentative and you don’t want to relent so easily.

“I don’t have any underwear.” You complain, tilting your head back to look at him. “You tore mine up-”

“You don’t need them,” He grunts dismissively, leaning against your desk as he watches you pull your dress into place. “No one else is gonna be looking up your skirt, anyway.”

You keep arguing anyway, even as he attempts to herd you towards the laboratory door. “Can’t we wait a little longer? I don’t wanna have to walk through the main lab and make eye contact with all the guys who know that I just got bent over in here–”

“They’ll know whether you wait a few minutes or not,” Quaritch says bluntly. “Besides, some of them probably need to learn by seeing.”

“Learn what–” You start to complain, before cutting yourself off.

You blink once, then twice, then turn your head to stare up at Quaritch. You only reach his navel, so you have to tilt your head right back.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your tone nothing short of revelatory. “You want them to see me like this. You want Geiszler to see me like this.”

He just grunts as though he’s not listening, but you can see the way his ears are swivelled towards you. When you just keep staring up at him, unmoving, he clearly realises that you’re not going to let it go because he sighs through his nose and turns his amber eyes back on you.

“So?” He challenges, his eyebrows raising. “He tried to get you drunk and worm his head between your legs. If the little bastard needs to see you covered in my cum in order to back off, fine.”

“Oh my god,” You complain, but you’re flushed hot and embarrassed. “You’re disgusting.”

He just grunts, and makes no attempt to argue. In fact he seems to agree judging by the stupid smirk on his face.

“Come on,” He says simply, “After food, you can curl up in your bed and vegetate for as long as you like, how ‘bout that?”

You squint up at him. “With you?”

Quaritch rolls his eyes as though exasperated with your clinginess, but you’re not blind – you can see the way the tips of his pointed ears have flushed darker and feel the way his tail coils around your leg as he ushers you toward the door.

He bends over at the waist and drops a quick kiss on your forehead. It’s the gentlest thing he’s done all evening, and you’re left mollified and silent as he smooths back some of your hair that had been messed up during your activities.

“Yeah, kid,” He mutters, “With me, if you want.”

A stupid, dopey smile breaks out on your face, impossible to repress. 

“You’re so stupid.” You sigh, though your silly grin softens the sting of your words. “I just squirted all over your face — of course I wanna cuddle with you later.”

“Watch that mouth.” Quaritch warns, but his ears twitch and you can tell that he’s pleased.

You just giggle, still beaming as you finally allow him to herd you towards the door to the main lab.  Co-workers be damned, you think smugly as he punches the command to open the door. You haven't missed the way he's been sniffing at you; if Quaritch wants to walk you all around the base while you smell like each other, then that's what you'll do.

i def fw pornstaches

do y’all fw those thick 70s pornstaches on guys

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

previous chapter ➳ series masterlist ➳ next chapter

“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

© all content belongs to thewayofhim 2023. do not modify, translate or repost without permission.

ASHDHASJKDSHKFBSHDJGBHJDS THis needs to be a multipart thing cuz oh my dayysss. man if he did that to me i'd just smile and nod THANKS FOR THIS, AUTHOR!!!!!!

sliding scale

You're in need of a handyman. He has needs of his own. cw: discussion of kids/pregnancy, john price inserting himself into your life, heavily implied breeding kink, unsettling and smutless (my brand)

You win the jackpot. Okay. Not the jackpot, but you're hit by a respectable windfall. It's like a cheesy movie you'd watch around the holidays: A distant relative dies, you receive a very serious letter, and suddenly, your account isn't as sad as it once was.

So, you do the impossible. The unthinkable. You buy a house.

An old, well-loved house from an elderly couple.

The day you close, they tell you about raising their kids in the house and mention the names etched on the door frame. When you arrive home that evening, the empty house feels grand and hollow, but there they are, just where they said. Names climbing upward in uneven increments, faded with time, but legible. You trace your finger along the marks, imagining small hands and the measuring tape, the years slipping by. It makes you smile, despite yourself.

You've never wanted kids, not really, but the thought of this, people leaving bits of themselves behind—it makes you mushy. You figure, once the dust settles, you'll let rooms to friends, maybe friends of friends. Start a fun little commune of sorts, a collective of people coming and going.

The first night, you drink nonalcoholic wine straight from the bottle and lie on your mattress on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. There's no furniture yet, just your overnight bag and the smell of fresh paint from a patch you tested on the living room wall. You fall asleep smiling. The house needs a lot of work, but you're not worried. Some TLC and elbow grease can go a long way.

Over the next few weeks, you move in and start working. Anything is possible with the power of YouTube tutorials and the local tool library.

You start in the primary bedroom and bathroom, learning to tile, install flooring, and connect plumbing for the perfect vanity and sink you found at a thrift store. It feels good to learn how things fit together and see the fruits of your labor. At night, you sleep in one of the old kid's rooms. The wallpaper is covered in rockets and planets. A couple of glow-in-the-dark stars cling to the ceiling.

The bathroom comes together wonderfully, and you feel invincible.

But then you get to the kitchen.

After an outlet zaps you, you decide you may be in over your head. That there really is a limit to what one person can do on their own. You start looking up local contractors, but everything is out of your budget. You've been doing all the work yourself for a reason. Then, after digging for ages, you find a promising lead: John Price - Handyman - Sliding Scale.

On the phone, John seems normal. Charming. Funny. He tells you he's impressed you bought a house on your own. (You've heard that a lot lately, and while it feels patronizing, you let it go. You did jump up a band upon inheriting your chunk of Great Uncle Leroy's money.) He agrees to come by and see what he can do.

You have to admit he makes a good impression when he shows up. He's punctual, polite, and looks the part. Broad chest, thick arms, big hands resting on his hips as he surveys the kitchen. After only a few minutes, he says he'll take the job. No hesitation.

You explain your tight budget and that you'll work alongside him when you're not at your day job. You show him the money you've set aside, expecting him to back out, but he just shakes his head and nudges the folder back across the table.

"Said I'd do it. Don't you fret, darl."

You vet him afterward, just to be sure. His references check out. The reviews are solid. He appears to know a little about everything. You text him to confirm, formally offering the job, and he accepts.

On the first day, you let him in and immediately have to avert your eyes. You didn't realize a toolbelt could look like that on someone. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms, and the way he moves—confident, purposeful—makes you grateful you're heading out to work. You tell him when you'll be back and leave quickly, gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual thinking about the hunk of man in your house.

When you return, the kitchen looks different, unfinished, but vastly improved. John's already fixed things you didn't think could be fixed. Over lunch, he even scoped out other problems around the house: a crack in the basement wall, a loose board on the stairs, and spots where the flooring must be replaced. He gushes about the house, praising its character, the way it's held up over time.

John's face grows serious, and stares down his nose when he finally asks, "You're not gonna ask me to paint over the wood or rip out the built-in hutch, are ya?"

His relief over your answer is palpable: No. That's why you bought the house in the first place. You describe what you love about it: the glass doorknobs, the dining room archway, and transom windows above the doors. He nods. He knows exactly what you mean.

Before he leaves for the day, he stops at the doorframe and points to the tallest name etched into the wood. You explain it belonged to the previous owners, a family with seven kids.

"Seven," he repeats, eyebrows raised.

"Right? Can you believe that? Seven!" You laugh. Frankly, anything more than two sounds insane. 

But John doesn't laugh. He stares at the names for a moment, his jaw tight. "Yeah. Difficult to imagine."

After he leaves, you scold yourself. You don't really know John. You've known him for all of a day. What if he came from a big family? Or what if he doesn't speak to his family anymore, if things are complicated with his parents? You feel awful, and the guilt channels itself into stress-baking.

The next morning, when he shows up, there's a platter of breakfast pasties waiting on the counter. He hesitates, looks almost bashful, until you insist. He takes a bite, then another, and looks at you with genuine astonishment. He says if you leave food like this every morning, he'll knock his rate down even further.

It makes sense, financially speaking, so you agree. You start making breakfast for two, and in return, he keeps the repairs affordable. The ritual becomes routine: John shows up every weekday morning, you eat together, he gets to work, and you leave. You look forward to seeing him. Hearing his voice rumble out good mornings and goodnights.

For two weeks, you come home to find steady progress on the kitchen. You help him out for an hour or two in the evenings, and by the time it's nearly finished, you've started discussing other parts of the house.

You mention the two smallest children's rooms aren't really usable for tenants. You show him your plans to knock down the wall between them and create a library or office space.

But this time, John doesn't agree.

"First I'm hearing of this," He leans back in his chair at your table. His arms cross over his chest, legs spreading wide. Even sitting, you see what he's doing. Trying to take a posture that carries authority, to cow you. "Tenants? What about a family?"

You try to steer the conversation back to your plans, to the picture you've sketched. "I'm not planning on having one. So, like I was saying—"

"Why buy a house this big, then? Why spend all this time fixin' it up if you're not planning to honor its legacy?"

The tone of his voice shifts completely, with no trace of the easy, flirty banter that's been your norm for weeks. His words drip with disdain. His brow knits together. Nostrils flaring. He looks genuinely upset. Mystified that you're not going to fill the house with your…your brood.

It's as if your refusal to have children is an affront to him personally. 

It sends a chill down your spine. Instantly, your image of him—this dependable, good-humored man—cracks apart. You glance past him, searching for the right words, and focus on the kitchen instead. The cabinets, the fixtures, the paint. All of it bears his mark now, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

The realization settles like a stone in your stomach. You can't keep working with him. Not if your plans for the house, your house, are going to be a problem.

You tell him as much, as gently as possible.

His anger bleeds out of him quickly, melting into embarrassment and shame. His shoulders drop, and he folds into himself in a way that seems almost impossible for someone his size. "Don't know what came over me, darl."

He packs up his tools while apologizing again, both for his outburst and for the unfinished work, and gives you the spare key you lent to him for emergencies. Before he leaves, he asks you not to write a review, not even a positive one, and you agree. Things had been good until now. You don't want to ruin him over this. People have bad days.

With the kitchen functional and nothing too big left on your plate, you cut your losses and decide to finish the work alone.

Progress is slow on your own, of course. One pair of hands, only so many hours after work to chip away at the list after work. Still, time moves faster than you expect. You push through exhaustion, head often swimming, and work late into the evenings. One night, you finish patching the floor and tackle the basement's cracked wall. Only when you get down there, it's already done. Smoothed over perfectly.

You tell yourself John must've fixed it before everything went south. But then you notice other things. Several odd jobs from your list are already complete.

Squeaky door hinges turn silent. The dings and nail holes in the walls, spackled over. The second toilet that kept running starts working correctly. It's partly a relief, like the house is taking care of itself, but also deeply unsettling. You don't remember doing it, you've never sleepwalked or slept-repair in your life, even in your overtired state, and you're still too sore over your falling out to text John and ask if he did it all.

Instead, you decide to take a break. A few days off work, a proper rest. Let the house settle, let yourself breathe. Nothing happens. No floating tools. No ghosts. It's like the house is waiting for you to look away.

Paranoia sets in. You order cameras—indoor and outdoor, enough to cover every angle.

The day they arrive, you barely make it through the door before tearing open the box. But something stops you. Your eyes catch on a strange wooden box sitting on the dining table. It's a shadowbox.

Inside the box is the slat from the front doorframe, the one with the heights and names of the seven kids who grew up here. It's been cut out, perfectly, and framed like an artifact.

Your stomach drops. You scramble to the doorframe and run your hands over it, frantic. The patchwork is seamless, so clean it's like the names never existed.

Then you notice the boots. Tucked in and lined up next to your own pairs. The extra jacket hanging on the hooks.

A shadow falls over you.

You freeze, heart in your throat, and slowly turn with eyes the size of dinner plates. Towering above you, sleeves rolled to his elbows, fists planted on his hips, is John. Grinning.

"Work alright today?" He bends down and pulls you to your feet by your wrist, wrapping you up in an embrace and welcoming you home. He sways slightly with you, like you're dancing, his chest rising and falling against yours. He looks at you with a clear fondness and affection, but there's something off, like a splintering foundation. Stable until you look too close.

You try to push yourself away, palms flat against his chest, but he doesn't let go. "What are—What are you doing here? What are—Why did you do that?" You glance again toward where the measurements used to be.

He chuckles, soft and unbothered, a wistfulness threaded in his words. "Well, we're gonna need the room for our little ones, yeah? Oh, we'll have seven or more, dependin' on what takes. Sliding scale and all that."

At your stunned, horrified silence, he slots a hand into the back pocket of your jeans. He gives your cheek a little squeeze and starts steering you toward the kitchen. The one he built for you.

"C'mon. Lemme tell you all about my plans for us."

something something your friends howling with laughter when you send “john mactavish — the better john” back to the table he shares with a bunch of wide shouldered sorts with a careless “sorry, i prefer my “johns” with experience” after a cursory up-and-down over his body.

those same friends staring slack-jawed when an absolute bear of a man drops heavily into the seat opposite you with a “heard you like a john with experience, s’that right, sweetheart?”

meanwhile you’re staring at the grey hair in his beard and at his temples with something approaching stars in your eyes

john price, his wife, and... the dog (derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: inspired by this thought about john price being an absolutely softie for his wife.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none. just fluff that reallyyyyy makes me want to marry this man.

It’s 2AM on a Saturday in the summer when John Price hears his wife cheating on him. 

“Shhh!!  You have to be quiet, you’ll wake up my husband.” 

He opens his heavy eyes to see the TV paused at the end credits of some movie he can’t even remember the name of.  The screen reflects in the crystal of the empty rocks glass on the coffee table next to his feet, holding only a warm whiskey stone.  

He groans and stretches, his old t-shirt riding up to show a dark happy trail disappearing into low-waisted flannel pajama pants.  He has one sock on with a hole in the toe.  You told him to get rid of them and got him a pack of 20 of the same sock (he’s very particular about his socks), but he still wears these ones, anyway. 

“Stop moving, I’m trying to concentrate here.  Damn lock… can never— oh, shit.  Wrong key.”  He can hear you muttering and giggling and the scratch of the key against the lock as you struggle to get it in. 

It’s your girls’ night and he likes to wait up for you to make sure you get in safely.  He saw you off around 8PM, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as you took a shot of tequila.  You planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that he didn’t bother to fully wipe off. 

“Sorry, I know you’re eager to get inside.  I bet you’re so cold, all naked.  Here, you can go in my dress, is that better?  Fu—ow!  Don’t bite my tit, Jesus!  Sharp teeth…” 

He suddenly feels much more awake.  He pushes himself up from the couch and starts to walk to the foyer. 

“This damn door… ah!  There we go.”  The door creaks open and he hears you tiptoe inside in your heels (wearing heels and tiptoeing—are two actions that are mutually exclusive, especially when you’re plastered).  “Remember, we have to be quiet.  My husband waits for me to get home, we don’t want to wake him up.  He’s very nice, you see, but he can’t know you’re here.” 

Apparently, you have gotten home safely—with an extra guest who just bit at your tit.  And you’re being more loud than your guest, who you keep telling to be quiet. 

“My husband is gonna be soooo mad.  He’s gonna be so mad at me, but once he sees how cute you are, I think he’ll forgive me.  He’ll understand.  I had to.  I just had to!” 

He hears rustling as he gets closer to the foyer, you fumbling around in the dark. 

“Stay there, don’t move, okay?  Stay, yeah?  You know that, don’t you?  Mummy will teach you if not.  Just stay right there.  Lemme get these damn heels off…” 

There’s an odd sound of something quickly clicking on hardwood floor that makes his eyebrows furrow, and then you gasp—

“Wait, don’t run—“ 

Bang! 

You groan loudly. 

John flicks on the lights. 

You’re lying face down on the rug.  You have one heel on.  The second heel is twisted around your other foot—what you fell over.  Your little dress is flipped up over your ass and your arms are outstretched. 

“You okay there, love?”  You just groan.  “Sounded like you fell pretty hard.” 

“I tripped,” you say into the rug, sounding very sad. 

“You hurt?” he asks. 

You shake your head and curl up a little.  “I’ll just sleep here.” 

He laughs softly.  “Come on, none of that.” 

“It’s so comfortable.  I’ll just—“ 

There’s that clicking sound again and he’s almost startled by the abruptness of your movement.  You push yourself up with one arm, stretch the other out and fucking snatch the quick-moving little brown blob that’s moving toward you.  You pull it to your chest and cradle it, shielding it from John’s view. 

“What you got there, baby?” he asks after a second. 

“Nothing,” you say innocently. 

“Uh huh.”  He crosses his arms, looking you over.  “Who were you talking to just now?” 

“No one,” you say quickly.  “Myself.” 

“Uh huh,” John says again. “Show me what you have.” 

You look over your shoulder up at him through your lashes, vision blurry.  “No.  You’re gonna be mad.” 

“Just show me.” 

“Promise you won’t be mad.” 

He sighs.  “I won’t be mad.”  You give him a look.  He sighs again.  You’re wasted—he can tell by your eyes.  “Promise.  Now show me.” 

You look down at whatever you’re holding to your chest.  “Okay,” you whisper, “you need to be very well-behaved, okay?  No biting, please.  Be very nice for Daddy so he will like you, okay?  Can you do that?  Yes?  Okay.” 

You glance up at John again over your shoulder and then turn yourself around in a very clumsy movement.  Then, as if presenting whatever it is like you’re Mufasa from the Lion King, you lift it up in the air toward your husband. 

It’s a puppy. 

It’s quiet. 

The little dog wriggles in your hands, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes.  He barks up at John, high pitched.  A small pink tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

It’s still quiet. 

You lower the dog a little so you can look up at John.  “You said you wouldn’t be mad!” 

“I’m not mad,” John says, sounding mad. 

“You look mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” he says again.  “It’s just… dirty.” 

You gasp.  “He’s not dirty!” you exclaim, sounding offended on behalf of the dog.  You pull him to your chest.  “He’s just a little mangey, you see.  But that’s okay.  It can be fixed.  You know—they have medicine for that.  Or lotion, or whatever it is.  He’s very nice, John, I swear.  I know he’s a little… skrunkly but he’s very cute and—ow!  That’s my hair, no biting Mummy, please.” 

“You’re already calling yourself his Mummy?” he asks, bemused, eyebrow raised at you.  Yep.  You’re fucking wasted. 

“Yes, and you’re his Daddy.”  You hold the dog up again, this time facing him toward you.  “I think you’re very cute.  You’ll grow on Daddy.  Just be very good for him, you can do that, can’t you?  Yes, you can.” 

“I thought it was something else,” John says. 

“What did you think it was?” you ask. 

“Where did you find it?” he asks instead of answering.  This is much better than what his traitorous mind momentarily supplied.  He should have known better.  Of course it’s this. 

A puppy. 

A puppy! 

“Oh, hello, there.” 

You crouch down in your dress and heels and hold out your hand to the little puppy emerging from the bushes by the side of the road. 

“What are you doing here, all alone?  Come here, love, I won’t hurt you.  Come on, puppy, come to me.  Yeahhh, there we go.  Oh, look at you.  You’re so cute.  You’re all mangey, though.  Oh,” you say pitifully, “you little baby.” 

You’re drunk as fuck at 2AM on a Saturday in the summer, walking home from the bar, squatting in the middle of a back road in England, petting this puppy clumsily—but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He wags his tail and nips at your fingers. 

“Where’s your Mummy?  You shouldn’t be out here all alone.  No collar… oh, goodness, what should I do with you?  I don’t want to leave you.  I’m not sure what to do.” 

He barks at you, high pitched. 

You nod at him seriously.  “Oh, yes, good point.”  He barks again.  “Mhm.  Yes, yes.  I thought so, too.  Exactly right.” 

He runs in a circle around you. 

“What are you, a month?  You should be with your Mum, you shouldn’t be all alone.  Oh, you little baby, you must be so scared.”  (He’s wagging his tail.)  “It’s so cold.”  (It’s summer.)  “Maybe you can come home with me?”  (Your husband would be so mad.) 

“Yes,” you decide.  “You’ll come home with me.”  (Your husband is going to be so mad.) 

That’s how you end up stumbling home with a puppy in your arms, rambling to him about yourself and your life. 

“Well, puppy, my name is Luxe.  I’m from here.  I live in a nice three bedroom house with my husband, I think you’ll like it very much.  Our house is only 10 more minutes away.  See that big tree there?  That means we only have 10 minutes.  I’m not great with street names, you see, so I go by landmarks.”  He barks.  “Yes, yes, you get it.” 

“Anyway.  So, I’m—stop wiggling please, Mummy’s going to drop you—I’m married to a very nice man named John.  I love him very much.  You’ll like him, too,” you tell him seriously, “he’s very likable.  I like lots of things about him, puppy.  Actually, I like everything about him.” 

“He says I can’t have a dog, though.  But maybe we can sneak you in.  What do you think, puppy?  Should we do that?  I think we should do that.  We’ll have to be very quiet, though.  Very quiet.” 

“John waits for me to get home—he’s so nice, I love him sooooo much—but we have to make sure not to wake him up.” 

And that’s how you end up trying to sneak into your own house and then trip over your shoe and fucking slam! your face on the rug. 

“Where did you find it?” John asks you. 

“On the way home from the bar, kind of my that big tree.” 

“By Notting Street?” 

You furrow your eyebrows.  “Notting St—I dunno.  Maybe?  I just know the big tree.  The one with all the branches.” 

“The one with all the branches,” he repeats.  “Right.” 

“But he was there all alone so I took him home.  I couldn’t leave him, John, he’s so little.  And he’s very cute, look at his little ears?  And his little feet?  His toes are soooo small.  His little teeth are sharp, though—like a shark.  Fuckin’ hurt, he almost bit my tit off.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” 

“You heard?  Oh.  I was trying to be quiet.  I didn’t want to wake you up.” 

He smiles at you.  “I know.” 

You smile back at him. 

“Give me the dog.” 

You frown at him.  “No.” 

“The dog, please.” 

“No.”  You hold him tighter.  “You’ll take him from me.” 

“Well,” he says, “yes.” 

You sigh.  “Be gentle.”  You hand him to John and he takes him in one hand and holds him out, frowning, as if it’s offended him. 

A puppy. 

“Can we keep him?” you ask hopefully. 

He glances at you and then back to the puppy and then back to you and then back to the puppy.  “No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“But…”  You trail off and he looks back down at you.  You’re starting to tear up. 

“Oh, love, don’t cry.” 

“He’s so little and soft and nice and he’s all mangey and he’s just a little baby and he’s all alone and…” 

“Okay, baby, we can keep him.”  (By that, he means you’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober, and by ‘talk about it’, he means, ‘no.’) 

“Really?!” you gasp.  

The way your face fucking lights up makes John pause.  For a second, he almost feels like he lost his balance.

“Oh, John, really?  Oh, thank you so much!  Puppy, did you hear that?  Daddy said yes!  See, he’s very nice, just like I told you, remember?  He’s very nice and kind and he’s very handsome and I love him very much, you see, and I—“ 

“He can’t understand you.” 

“You don’t know that,” you say defensively.

“Uh huh,” he says. 

You stare up at him, standing over you as you sit on the floor.  “How are you handsome from this angle?”  You frown.  “Stupid face,” you mutter. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let’s get you up.” 

“I’m so comfortable.” 

“Hand.”  He tucks the dog under his arm and extends his other hand toward you.  He crooks his long, thick fingers at you.  “Now.” 

You look between his hand and his face, and then slip your hand into his.  He pulls you up and then, in one movements that’s He fucking yanks you up and, in one movement that’s somehow graceful, bends down and throws you over his shoulder. 

He, naturally, slaps your ass and you squeal.  “Hey!!”  You kick your feet a little (still only one heel on) and he laughs, resting his hand on your hip as he makes his way up the stairs with you on his shoulder and the dog in his hand. 

Gently, he drops you onto the bed and you fall back with an oof! and stare up at him. 

“Well,” he drawls, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You grin.  “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.”  He takes off your shoes, your clothes, and your makeup as you hold the dog, curled up, on your chest. 

“You’re so good to me, John,” you say, your eyes closed.  “I’m so lucky.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.  And, you, puppy,” you mumble, petting him slowly, “you’re so lucky, too.  You’re about to have the best Daddy in the world.  He’s so good to us.” 

“Puppy is asleep,” John says.  “And,” he adds, scooping him up in one hand, “puppy is not sleeping in the bed.” 

You just groan, too tired and drunk to argue. 

He holds the dog out in the air again, turning him around and upside down to examine him.  He yips and wriggles in his hands, but John shushes him.  “Hush now.  Your Mum is asleep.”  He shakes his head sighs.  “What am I going to do with you?” 

He takes the dog to the bathroom and puts him down on the floor and puts his hands on his hips, staring down at the dog.  His paws slip a little on the cold tile.  John reaches over to turn on the heated floor (which he got installed for you) and says to the dog, “You are so, so damn lucky I love your Mummy.” 

note: thank you for reading! this is my first time posting in years–and in a totally new fandom. thank you for your patience and your support. let me know your thoughts! merry christmas!

posted 12.26.2024. do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform. to masterlist.

THE TRACKLIST I CANT

Spider, what are you WEARING??? 😭😭⁣⁣

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Fr though, that pic of him on the beach embodies the fandom’s reaction to the movies’ delay⁣⁣

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