i didnt know i needed this but thank the lord đđđ
â what's going on down there?: a dick analysis
ᄫᥠfeaturing :: jake sully, miles quaritch & norm spellman
ᄫᥠincludes :: their human forms + avatar forms
ᄫᥠgenre :: mature
ᄫᥠcontent warnings :: talking about dicks obviously, explicit sexual content (?), humor lol
ᄫᥠnote :: if you know anything about arachine, you know i love a good dick analysis. these posts are intended for comedic purposes only, which means theyâre not to be taken seriously.
â jake âima slut you outâ sully
. . . human form .*+!
âłÂ length: as we all know, jakeâs life on earth was very unfulfilling. he was a man who sacrificed his legs for the fate of the country, only to be disposed of into the unforgiving hands of society, with no way to reap the benefits (or lack thereof) that veterans were promised to receive. and after losing the privilege of mobility, his body changed drastically. he got smaller, his body got weaker, and yet, one thing remainedâthat dick! jake is a survivor, through and throughâhis personal motto is: if it ainât broken, then itâs still workingâand boy, he does not disappoint when it comes to the downstairs department. standing tall at 7 inches, is little jake (maybe not so little). when flaccid, his length measures at a solid 5.7 inches. definitely a grower.Â
âłÂ width: a little bit on the skinnier side, but he knows how to use it and thatâs all that matters!
âłÂ color: i think for the most part, his shaft definitely matches the rest of his body; though, i can see it maybe being slightly a little more darker at the base, like a very light beige. when heâs flaccid, his tip is a pretty pink, almost like a ballet slipper (aka the best pink). turns into an angry red when fully erect!
âłÂ extra:
01. groomed?: jake pegs me as the kinda guy who doesnât really care? i mean, trimming isnât foreign to him, because he has trimmed it before, and does so when he notices itâs gotten to be too longâŠbut, i donât think itâs something that he does often. to him, itâs just hair. heâs on his grown man shit, you know?Â
02. curved?: uhm, yes! you know that one beyoncĂ© lyric? yeah.Â
03. any veins?: absolutely covered in âem
04. how he fucks with it: iâd like to think before his accident, he was a doggy style connoisseurâcome on, itâs jake weâre talking about here. canât nobody tell me otherwise! i just know he had bitches bent over, weaves sweated out, makeup all over the pillowsâŠmans was f-u-c-k-i-n-g okay? fuckingggg.Â
. . . avatar form .*+!
âłÂ length: the masses may attack me, but itâs time i spoke up. the man has a monster schlong. a cooter cat killer, if you will. if you thought his human form was big, shit, you ainât seen nothing yet! completely flaccid, his cock measures to about 10 inches. when fully hard, he grows an additional three! talk about impressiveâŠ
âłÂ width: so thick that it basically slaps his thighs when he walks. the man could create a beat with it, get em into the soundcloud business now!
âłÂ color: self explanatory tbh, itâs fucking blue. as blue as papa smurfâs ass.Â
âłÂ extra:Â
01. groomed?: iâm gonna go out on a limb here and say that because heâs an avatar, he grows hair there. even if iâm wrong, iâm right. i donât give a damn what james cameron says. heâs basically my character at this point, and i will him to have hair damnit! justâŠthe idea of him having a full bush down there, in the wild, all primitive and shitâŠdoes something to me. idk. donât ask me why iâm so nasty, blame my deadbeat father.Â
02. curved?: is a banana yellow? thereâs your answer.Â
03. any veins?: i might have a brain aneurysm just thinking about it, but yes! god, yes. so manyâŠso, so, so many. ribbed for her pleasure or whatever trojan said.Â
04. how he fucks with it: is he still the doggy style connoisseur? yes. but now thatâs got the strength of 20 men, backshots sound a whole lot like gunshots now. they say every time the mighty toruk makto thrusts into a cunt, a tree falls down or something. so, yes. fucks hard, fucks rough, fucks like heâs on a mission. whatâs that one tik tok audio? ârest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, i dive in her cervix.â yeah, he lives by that.Â
â miles âon your knees, cadet!â quaritch
. . . human form .*+!
âłÂ length: just gonna cut right to the chase. heâs huge. like pussy splitting huge. i donât care what anyone says, you can argue with ya friend, you can argue with ya mother, but you cannot argue with me! coming in at a solid 6 when flaccid, quaritch takes the cake for the biggest cock on this list (at least, human form wise). at full length, he measures to about 7.8 inches!Â
âboooooâ you say, well, guess what? itâs the truth, and iâm just the messenger. whether you hate him or love him, heâs just that guy.Â
âłÂ width: surprisingly average. but itâs okay, sometimes you canât have the best of both worlds.Â
âłÂ color: if my memory serves me right, he was pretty tan in the first movie. so, iâm gonna stick with that and say that itâs a pretty tan that transitions into a pale pink. i donât know if some of you have seen old dick, but their tips get less saturated with age. itâs a phenomenon (not really, the blood flow to the groin is just a lot slower, which can make it appear kind of greâanyway, i digress!)
âłÂ extra:Â
01. groomed?: this man is a colonel, so heâs all about discipline and keeping things nice and tidy. so, obviously, his hygiene reflects that. i donât think he goes completely bald, but he does give it a good trim. kind of like a fadeâŠjust imagine a patch of grey, prickly hair. yeah.Â
02. curved?: yes, and since heâs older, itâs probably curved a lot. you could probably hang something on it. maybe a towel, or a lanyard. itâs definitely useful for something!
03. any veins?: god, i donât know why, but i have it in my head that heâs on steroids. heâs just so buff and strong, and i mean, yeah, he could just be really fitâŠbut he could also be a self-image obsessed freak who takes drugs to be the perfect soldier. the correlation, you ask? well, i just feel like people who take steroids are really veiny, and i feel like his dick would be really, really veiny. so, thus the rant about steroids. steroid dick.Â
04. how he fucks with it: donât let his age fool you. he may very well be pushing his late fifties, but heâs still a young man at heartâand heâs definitely got the sex drive to prove it! i can see his favorite position being something like missionary. not so much because he enjoys the intimacy of it (like being face to face), but more so because heâs got a size kinkâand definitely a dacryphilia kink. he enjoys seeing his partners cry, whether in pain, or in pleasure, or both! so, when youâre fucking him, donât expect anything romantic. he just wants to see your pretty little face all teary eyed and pathetic.Â
. . . avatar form .*+!
âłÂ length: so big you can see it from space; thatâs how the RDA mfs know theyâre close, because they can see the tip protruding from pandora. no, but seriously, itâs still really huge. like maybe 12-14 inchesâmaximum.Â
âłÂ width: probably twice as thick as a humanâs forearm. and god, itâs sooooo heavy. big breeding balls to match.Â
âłÂ color: blue blue blueâŠlike wet fun dip. with just as many stripes as the american flag or whatever.Â
âłÂ extra:Â
01. groomed?: yes, but the hair is black instead of grey and itâs probably really straight because naâvi hair is straight as fuck.Â
02. curved?: sir, yes sir.Â
03. any veins?: whatâd i say? steroid dick. but even worse (better) now bc heâs so damn tall, he needs all the blood he can get down there.
04. how he fucks with it: has you in all types of positions. his favorites are anything that shows off his new found strength, so iâm betting on full nelsons and mating presses. just fast, powerful strokes. lives by the motto: canât stop, wonât stop.
â norm âwhatâs the sq root of 69?â spellman
. . . human form .*+!
âłÂ length: iâm sorry to disappoint the norm fuckers (if there are any), but heâs not that big. when heâs soft, his cock measures to about 4.8 inches, and at most, 6.2 inches when hard.Â
âłÂ width: skinny dick.Â
âłÂ color: dawg heâs so white, itâs like hella pale and the tip is so pink that when heâs aroused, it looks like thereâs something wrong.
âłÂ extra:
01. groomed?: like jake, i donât think he really cares.
02. curved?: straight like a pencil
03. any veins?: like two, and theyâre really prominent because heâs so fucking pale.
04. how he fucks with it: i donât think human norm is getting puss, letâs be real.Â
. . . avatar form .*+!
âłÂ length: i am a firm believer in N.W.B.Cânerds with big cocks. itâs just the universeâs way of saying thank you, they justâŠthey just do so much for us, you know? norm may not have been packing down there in his human form, but this was his second chance at redemption. heâs now a proud member of N.W.B.C, sporting an impressive 15 inches. you know that one scene in the first spider-man when peteâs looking at himself in the mirror and he looks inside his briefs? yeah, that was norm when he found out. the man got so excited, he accidentally catapulted a scientist out of pandoraâs atmosphere with the weight of his cock. joking.Â
âłÂ width: on the skinnier side but still toe curling, nonetheless.
âłÂ color: laffy taffy blue, with little (big) blueberry balls.
âłÂ extra:
01. groomed?: no, heâs too busy in the lab and getting naâvi puss.
02. curved?: unfortunately no
03. any veins?: more than before, which he was pleasantly surprised to see.
04. how he fucks with it: normâs got a big dick, but he acts so shy, like heâs scared of it or something. like stop playing boy and drop them drawls, the fuck? anyway, i think normâs a sub. he pegs me as the type of guy who likes strong women, women whoâll tell him to shut the fuck up (because he talks so much) and eat their pussies. i guess this makes him a munch. yeah, heâs a munch. ice spice actually wrote that song with him in mind!
© arachine 2023
LOVED THIS OMGGG
part 1 | part 2
đ pairing: neteyam x human fem reader đtags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
notes: okay i had to split this into two parts because it surpassed the tumblr word limit đ hereâs part 1, and Iâll post part 2 in a day or two!
adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!
The tsahĂŹkâs hut is cool and dark, offering a much needed reprieve from the hot balmy air of the day outside. Itâs been a quiet day for you, though you canât complain about that; itâs a pleasant change of pace from the usual hectic rush of people that usually pass through.
Itâs one of the rare days that Moâat has left you to tend to the duties of the healing hut alone; it had taken years to reach this level of trust with her, and you find yourself almost deliriously proud to be able to help out. Naâvi medicinal practices are very different to human ones, but your training in first-aid has given you enough knowledge and experience to hold your own when it comes to helping out with the smaller day-to-day ailments that tend to pass through the healing hut.
Besides, youâre always happy to give Moâat a break. She had claimed that she needed time to commune with Eywa, though secretly you suspect that she just likes to take some time to herself in her old age. But thatâs fine â youâve always found helping out in the healing hut soothing, and your heart swells at the fact that Moâat trusts you enough to leave you in charge, even if itâs only for a few hours.
It also helps when your patient is a big, hunky alien warrior with more muscles than brains, who sits in front of you as you smear a herbal paste over the scratches he had gotten in training earlier that day.
Txeyto is not an easy patient; he flinches when you prod his wounds, whines when you clean them, and complains as you smear the paste on his scrapes. Itâs a little irritating, but the sight of his big broad shoulders and chiselled abdomen is enough to soothe the worst of your aggravation.
âAre you nearly finished?â Txeyto complains, flinching away from your fingers once more.
You bite your tongue and force a smile. Patience has never been your strong suit, and Txeyto is certainly testing the short reserves you have left. But heâs very handsome, and very skilled at archery, and you feel that his physical attractiveness outweighs the minor personality flaws.
âYes, just another few moments.â You murmur, keeping your voice low and soothing as though speaking to a child.
Txeyto settles a little when you use the baby voice on him, and you struggle to keep your face blank at the ridiculousness of it all. Men are such children, even the big strong Naâvi warriors that should be above such behaviour. Heâs lucky heâs handsome.
âHow did you get these injuries, hm?â You ask, using a light touch to dab some of Moâatâs specially formulated healing paste onto his scrapes. You keep your fingers as gentle as possible, but Txetyo still winces dramatically.
He perks up at your question, his tails swaying low over the floor where youâre both sat cross-legged. âI have been training very hard. I am one of the best archers in the village now.â
âNo doubt.â You murmur distractedly as you work.
âBut it is important for a tsamsiyu to be competent in many forms of combat, so I must practice my hand-to-hand combat also,â Txetyo continues, apparently forgetting to wince now that heâs talking. âNeteyam has been helping me train.â
Ah. You canât help the face you make at that, and youâre thankful that Txeytoâs back is facing you so that he canât see your expression. You also canât help the way you cast a quick glance towards the entrance to the hut, as though worried that simply speaking the name aloud will summon Toruk Maktoâs eldest son.
âIs that right?â You say, keeping your tone carefully neutral. âSo, heâs the one that got you all scraped up like this?â
Txetyoâs shoulders flex under your hands, and you realise without looking at his face that youâve stung his pride.
âI scraped him up also.â He grumbles, shifting to try and peer over his shoulder. âThey are wounds to be proud of, as I got them in combat.â
You donât think that a couple of minor scratches from wrestling around in the mud with one of the villageâs biggest dickheads count as combat wounds, but you donât argue. You just hum non-committedly, paying more attention to his bruises than is entirely necessary.
âYou should be careful,â You say instead, running your fingers carefully over one of the bruises discolouring the pretty blue skin of his defined bicep. âItâs a shame to see these lovely muscles all bruised up.â
Thereâs a long momentâs pause. It seems as though the cogs in Txetyoâs head are working slowly, because he seems to be struggling to understand your flirty tone of voice. But when it finally seems to click, he turns his head to peer at you with wide, curious eyes.
âAh,â He says, his shoulders squaring as he seems to preen. âYou like them?â
God, he really is a little dumb. But thatâs okay. You donât necessarily need a man with brains.
âMhmm,â You hum, allowing your hand to rest on the bulge of his bicep. âI like strong men.â
Thatâs true, if a little bit of an oversimplification. Youâve lived as a human on Pandora your whole life, but it was only in recent years since youâve reached adulthood that youâve started really paying attention to the people around you. And good lord, you had some impressive specimens to look at.
You find yourself drawn to their athletic and toned bodies, their radiant blue skin, their cat-like grace and agility. Maybe itâs because you had grown up on Pandora with no humans your age other than Spider, but you find yourself especially drawn to your size. The sheer size of their hands alone are enough to fluster you, especially when your brain is flooded with images of those big hands in other contexts.
And luckily for you, thereâs no shortage of Naâvi that are interested in experimenting with humans, too.
Txetyo visibly perks up, his ears twitching forward as he finally seems to notice the way your much smaller hands are lingering on his body as you patch him up.
âI am very strong.â He says, tail thumping against the ground.
You fight the urge to sigh. Heâll never make a great conversationalist, but thatâs alright. Heâs big and strong and handsome, and you just want to relieve some tension.
âI know.â You murmur, your lips quirking a little as you shuffle around so that youâre kneeling in front of him, your knees pressed close to his thighs. âBut I could still kiss your scratches better, if youâd like.â
Kissing wounds better is definitely a human colloquialism that Txetyo doesnât understand, judging by the furrow of his brow, but he doesnât seem to care. He reaches out and wraps a big hand around your waist, and you feel a pulse of arousal low in your belly in response.
âYou like my muscles so much that treating my wounds has aroused you?â He asks, the smugness in his voice impossible to miss.
His pompousness is a little irritating, but you can ignore that because his hands are big and warm and itâs exciting to feel his palm start to push its way under your cotton tank top. The few Naâvi men youâve been with before had been absolutely fascinated with the soft squishiness of your human breasts, so your breath hitches in anticipation as his hand reaches up to grope at your tits over your bra.
Okay, you can probably admit that youâre a little pent up. Itâs probably a terrible idea to allow Txetyo to feel you up like this in the middle of the healing hut, but youâre horny.
If youâre telling the truth, youâve been hoping for a chance like this all week â but thereâs one thing, one irritation, that has been preventing you by interrupting every damn chance youâve gotten alone with any man.
In fact, youâve been interrupted so often and so many times that youâre almost expecting it, even as Txetyoâs big hands squeeze at your tits. Heâs a little rough with it, but heâs so much bigger than you that you suppose thatâs unavoidable â besides, his strength only adds to the thrill.
Then, just like clockwork, as though thereâs some kind of sensor that goes off whenever youâre about to get some, thereâs a rustling sound by the entrance of the hut before the little woven drape covering the doorway is pulled back.
And then, who else would be standing there, but Neteyam. One of the few people on the whole planet that can actually ruin your whole day just by showing his stupid face.
His eyes find you, but his expression doesnât change as he glances over your flustered expression and the hand that Txetyo still has shoved up your top. He tilts his head, and it feels as though heâs examining every damn detail all at once; the ointment smeared all over Txetyoâs bruises from training, the way youâve shuffled so close to Txetyo that youâre practically straddling his thigh, your unsteady breathing behind your mask.
âAh. Am I interrupting?â He asks with a hint of wry humour to his voice, as though he hasnât interrupted every attempt at getting laid youâve made this month.
It has to be on purpose. That, or he has some sort of nearly supernatural sense for when youâre horny, because he always seems to show up every goddamned time. Somehow itâs gotten worse in the last few weeks, too. Youâve barely been able to get a moment alone with whoever youâve been chatting up before Neteyam has appeared, snapping at them to get back to training or duties or whatever lousy excuse heâs been able to come up with in the moment.
âWhat do you want?â You snap, impatient and too strung tight to waste your energy on pretending at politeness.
A very delayed reaction finally hits Txetyo, and he scrambles to remove his hand from the inside of your top. His hand alone is so large that the outline of it is painfully obvious even through your shirt, and you close your eyes with a sigh as he clumsily pushes himself away from you in a rather ungainly attempt at pretending nothing was going on.
âNeteyam!â He blurts, his ears flattening against his skull. Heâs clearly mortified at being caught in such a position by Toruk Maktoâs son, and he overcompensates by attempting to scoot away as though he hadnât even been touching you.
You try not to roll your eyes â youâre used to this, after all. Youâve been with several Naâvi men, but they all seem to have the same sort of embarrassment about actually being open with the fact that theyâve hooked up with you. You canât be all that annoyed about it, you suppose. You understand where itâs coming from. Youâve been around the Omaticaya your whole life, and while the taboo of having Sky People around has faded somewhat, that doesnât mean that anyone is actually willing to admit that theyâve been with you.
Youâre used to it. Itâs fine. Youâre just a little mortified that Neteyam is currently witnessing the scramble for Txetyo to get away from you.
Heâs watching the other man with his head still tilted to the side, his big golden eyes dark in the cool shade of the hut. A muscle in his jaw is flexing, like heâs trying not to laugh.
âI will- I will see you later?â Txetyo whispers to you as he stands. He probably intended for his voice to be low enough that it stayed between just you and him, but the hut is quiet enough that thereâs no doubt Neteyam can hear him just fine.
âMhm. Yeah.â You murmur back, watching Txetyoâs big broad back as he steps away from you, all hasty and flustered.
Txetyo gets as far as Neteyam, whoâs still standing with his arms crossed in the doorway. Neteyam doesnât so much as shift, his eyes dragging with lazy satisfaction over the myriad of scrapes and bruises that he had left on Txetyo during their sparring earlier.
Txetyo shifts on his feet, visibly nervous in the face of his future chiefâs judgement. âAh⊠Will we train again tomorrow, Neteyam?â
Neteyam hums non-committedly, before finally stepping away from the doorway. He brushes past Txetyo, and you wonder if heâs always so dismissive of his fellow warriors or if heâs just being an even bigger dickhead today for some reason.
âWe will see.â Neteyam says shortly, though heâs not even looking Txetyoâs way.
Taking that as the dismissal it so clearly is, Txetyo nods awkwardly before disappearing out of the hut, leaving you and Neteyam alone.
For a long moment, you do your best to avoid looking up. Youâre beyond irritated right now, made so much worse by the fact that your panties are kind of wet and youâre so fucking desperate for attention right now. The little wooden bowls knock together clumsily as you try to arrange them without looking up, but it becomes difficult when Neteyam lowers himself down to sit opposite you.
âThe tsahĂŹkâs hut is a bold place for such activities.â He says, and you donât have to look up to know that thereâs a stupid smug look on his face. âWhat would my grandmother think?â
As he sits down, he places a woven bag by your knee. You donât need to look at it to know what it is; heâs always bringing stuff to the healing hut for his grandmother. Herbs or medicinal plants, fibres for weaving bandages, even animal bones that he had whittled down for needles for suturing.
Even you can grudgingly admit itâs thoughtful; but he only ever seems to bring it when youâre around. Itâs like he just wants to rub it in your face that he excels at everything he does â itâs extremely annoying.
You finally look up, your face already scrunched in a scowl. âWhat do you want?â
He raises his hairless brows at you, an expression he no doubt learned from his father. âI would like my cuts from training treated. What else would I be here for?â
And now you know that heâs just messing with you, because while Txetyo was covered in bruises and abrasions from his tough training session earlier, Neteyam doesnât have a single visible scratch.
âWhat exactly am I supposed to treat?â You ask, voice tight.
Neteyam shifts, proffering you his shoulder, and you see a single scrape along his otherwise flawless striped blue skin. You purse your lips, staring at it in mild disbelief.
âYou canât be serious.â You say, deadpan.
But itâs clear that Neteyam is serious, because heâs already stretching out on the comfy woven rugs of his grandmotherâs hut as if he belongs there. Itâs obvious that he has no intention of moving â he must have come here just to torture you.
You blow out a frustrated breath, the inside of your respirator mask fogging up briefly before rapidly clearing. Neteyam is infuriating. He gets under your skin in a way that no one else does, as though he knows every goddamn little button to press just to aggravate you.
Maybe itâs just a by-product of having been raised as next in line to lead the Omaticaya, or of being Toruk Maktoâs oldest son, but youâve always found Neteyam closed off and distant.
Truthfully, you canât say for certain if heâs always been this way. When you were young teenagers, you hadnât had much contact with him; he was always busy with his own training, and then the whole Sully family had left for Awaâatlu. When they had returned, several years later, Neteyam had been more reserved, and yet somehow even cockier and more confident than ever.
âI donât understand you. Thereâs no need for you to get this scrape seen to, and you know it. You just like wasting my time.â
He just watches you as you complain, his eyes hooded and dark in a way that honestly leaves you a little heated. He doesnât deny it, which only irritates you further. You knew he was just trying to annoy you!
âItâs your job to treat wounds when youâre here, isnât it?â He asks, and you can see the way his tail is lazily undulating behind him, skimming across the woven carpet. Heâs enjoying arguing with you.
You huff out a put-upon sigh, before grabbing two of the jars. The ointment is naturally antiseptic but it goes on with quite a sting; you try not to feel satisfied about that as you coat your fingers in it before dabbing it onto the scrape on Neteyamâs shoulder. Youâre not as gentle as youâd usually be either, your patience is too thin for you to be considerate with him right now.
But this is not Txetyo. This is Neteyam, and he doesnât so much as flinch as you rub the paste over his still sluggishly bleeding scratch, even though you know it must sting. You try not to feel irked by his stoicism.
As you work, Neteyamâs head rolls back. In a move thatâs almost imperceptible, his nostrils flare and he scents the air. You assume itâs the fairly astringent scent of the herbal paste youâve just pulled out thatâs bothering him, and you raise an eyebrow at him.
âProblem?â
His lips quirk, though he manages to keep his expression neutral. âNo. I am simply enjoying being under your tender care.â
You narrow your eyes at him. Heâs mocking you now.
The fact that he had walked in on Txetyoâs hand up your top as he groped at your tits feels like a heavy unspoken weight in between you as you dab at his minor wound. You keep waiting for him to bring it up, to laugh at you for it, but he remains stubbornly quiet as you work, his golden eyes watching you in quiet contemplation.
In fact, heâs never brought up any of the times heâs interrupted you right before you got with someone. Heâs caught you in varying levels of undress, with Naâvi men over you, under you, holding you, touching you, kissing you, but somehow just before anything good actually happened. Every time the men had scrambled away from you as though you were something diseased, mortified at being caught with a tawtute by Neteyam, a man that (for some reason you canât comprehend) they seem to have an awful lot of respect for.
In the beginning, you were inclined to come up with excuses for him; he was Jake Sullyâs oldest son, and was inevitably going to keep track of his peers and where they disappeared off to when they had duties that they should be attending to. But now, you think heâs doing it to spite you specifically. It might be a bit of a self-centred thing to believe, but youâre almost certain of it.
You shift on your knees beside him, raising yourself up a little to ensure that youâve covered all parts of his scrape. You donât want him returning tomorrow to complain that you didnât do a good job.
You have to bite back another sigh as you do so, your thighs rubbing together in a way that sends a sharp jolt up your spine. Youâre horny and needy and so, so resentful of the fact that youâre now treating the same man thatâs the direct cause of your state right now.
Neteyamâs attitude wasnât the only thing that changed in his time away, however. You have to keep your eyes fixed carefully on his bruising shoulder, because if you didnât you know that your gaze would wander, and thatâs a dangerous game to be playing in the presence of someone as perceptive as Neteyam.
But itâs difficult not to look. Time and ocean air has been kind to him; heâs grown as tall as his father, and whatever sort of training or work he had been doing with the Metkayina has resulted in broader shoulders and a more sturdy build than is typical of the Omaticaya. Itâs galling to admit, and makes you feel as though youâve eaten something sour and unpleasant, but Neteyam is hot as hell.
He might be aggravating and smug and too cocky, but no one in their right mind could deny that heâs attractive. Not even you. Especially you, if youâre being honest with yourself, considering your penchant for enormous blue alien men that could snap you in two with a pinkie if they felt so inclined.
God, you really have to think about something else. Youâre so wet that your panties are starting to get uncomfortable, so you focus determinedly on the resentment thatâs still simmering over the fact that Neteyam had interrupted what was promising to be a very productive encounter with Txetyo.
Neteyam shuffles a little where heâs sitting in front of you, and your eyes track the way his muscles bunch and shift under his vibrant blue skin. Damn, but seeing Naâvi musculature up close never gets old, even if itâs Neteyam.
Youâre almost finished with dabbing paste on the tiny scrape (and you hate to admit that it had taken you longer than it should have due to your distraction), when Neteyam half-turns his head towards you.
âMy back is sore, also.â He murmurs, though his eyes remain downcast.
You pause, staring at him. âOkay. And?â
Thereâs a moment where the two of you just look expectantly at each other. When nothing comes of that, Neteyam speaks again.
âYou are playing healer today, are you not?â He asks, and his left ear twitches oddly. âOr is your attention all reserved for Txetyo, hm?â
Your cheeks heat in humiliation and your jaw clenches. You knew he wouldnât be able to help himself from making some sort of stupid comment.
âLay down.â You snap, prickly and embarrassed.
âYes maâam.â Neteyam purrs, probably all satisfied that heâs gotten under your skin. He reclines, all of those lithe muscles flexing and bunching as he rolls over onto his stomach.
You grab another pot of ointment, and then take a moment to steady yourself.
You know that heâs winding you up on purpose, just like always, but you can never figure out why. He doesnât treat you like any of the other men in the village do â they might enjoy fucking you, but theyâre rarely caught dead in public with you, worried about what it might mean for their own reputations.
Neteyam is bolder, more confident; though the burden of responsibility that he carries is unmistakable, he never seems to get caught up with the petty whispering and musings of the village people. Itâs just unfortunate that he seems so set on bothering you.
Your mouth goes dry as your eyes drop mindlessly over the expanse of his long, pretty back. His skin is stretched tight over lithe muscle, little luminescent white freckles glinting like little stars. He looks so smooth, though the flawlessness of his body is marred by thick pale scars that litter his skin, courtesy of the near legendary battle with the RDA that you hear happened off the coast of Awaâatlu.
You glance down, flustered. Fuck. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasnât physically perfect.
âProblem?â Neteyamâs voice is a little lower in register than it was before, perhaps because heâs lying on his stomach with his head pillowed under his crossed arms.
You twitch. Shit. You had gotten distracted, and had lost yourself staring at him.
âNo. Shut up.â You blurt reflexively, dipping your fingers into the oily ointment used for easing sore muscles.
Neteyam huffs quietly, a sound that could be a grunt or a laugh, but doesnât bother responding. It makes you feel as though youâve lost a game you didnât know you were playing.
Antsy and on edge, you lean forward and survey his strong back properly. When he's laying out in front of you like this you can see the way his back is knotted with tension and his shoulders are hiked up around his ears. It doesn't look too bad, but it can't be comfortable either.
You take one more moment to admire the musculature of his shoulders, before gathering yourself and dipping your fingers into the ointment. It's balmy against your fingers and smells a little bit like blueberries, and begins to tingle when your hand is entirely coated.
"Where does it hurt most?" You ask, your voice quiet.
In the silence, you can hear Neteyamâs throat click when he swallows.
"My neck and shoulders." When he speaks, his voice is a little deeper than expected.
The very first touch to Neteyamâs back pulls a quiet sigh out of him; it sounds like relief.
Considering his size, it takes surprisingly little to have him melting under your hands. Your fingers spread under his scapula, finding a knot in the muscle and pressing in hard. It takes a bit of finagling, but after some firm pressure you feel the muscle begin to soften beneath your touch.
Gaining confidence, you return your kneading fingers to his neck. He really is terribly tense, and shivering spasms flit up and down the muscles of his back in regular intervals as you drag the warm palms of your hands over him. As your fingers work into his tense muscles, he lets out quiet little grunts that are muffled by the cradle of his arms.
âWhy were you so hard on Txetyo during training?â You ask as your fingers dig into the tense tissue of his back. Your voice is unintentionally loud in the quiet of the hut. âHe looked as though he had been attacked by a thanator when he was here earlier.â
Neteyam just grunts. âTxetyo is an overconfident skxawng. He is not nearly as skilled as he thinks he is.â
You click your tongue, dissatisfied with that answer. âI could say the same about you.â
Just like all your attempts to insult him, your words seem to bounce right off him. Stupid thick-skinned bastard. His pretty mouth tilts up in a smile.
âI have the skills to back it up, paskalin.â
Your lips purse at the name, your cheeks hot. God, heâs such an asshole.
When you exert pressure as you run your fingers down his spine, Neteyam grunts softly into his arms. The sound is startling in the quiet, interrupting the steady rhythm of your quiet breathing.
"Does that hurt?" You ask. Your voice comes out a little shakier than youâd like.
"No." Neteyamâs voice comes out in a low, gravelly rumble. The sound of it almost startles you into snatching your hands away, but you manage to refrain yourself. "Keep going."
You just swallow thickly, and try to keep yourself on task. âHe just wants to be better. He was excited to train with youââ
âLower.â Neteyam groans, shifting under your hands.
You clench your teeth. Really, you should probably just walk away from him. Thereâs no real need for you to be doing any of this. Heâs not even injured, and who knows whether heâs telling the truth about his back being tense.
But youâre stupid, and youâve never been good at walking away, from either fighting or fucking. This strange encounter feels as though it lies somewhere in the middle of those two things. Your palms drag down to his lower back, and he flinches briefly before melting under your touch.
His body is so big that itâs difficult to get a good angle to knead properly at his tense muscles, and before you can think too hard about it you swing your leg over his hips. You settle back, perching your weight cautiously at the base of his spine.ï»ż
It's a braver move than you would usually make, but you try not to second-guess yourself â like this, you have so much more leverage to rub at the rigid sinews of his back. You drag your knuckles down the length of his spine and he groans into the cradle of his arms.
You try to ignore the excited flutter in your belly. Itâs just Neteyam. Youâre not actually getting turned on from this; the only reason youâre so affected is because you had been horny with Txetyo. You shift where youâre sitting on his back, but you have to force yourself still almost immediately, because the friction nearly makes your lungs seize.
âComfortable?â Neteyam murmurs, and you can hear amusement in his voice.
âShut up.â You say reflexively, before scowling. âI canât believe you interrupted me and Txetyo just for this. You have, like, one bruiseââ
âItâs a very sore bruise.â He murmurs lazily, sounding unbothered. âDo you think squeezing your tits might help? That seemed to help Txetyo feel better.â
You pause, jaw dropping in indignation. âIâ shut up!â
Neteyam makes a noise that sounds like a snicker, and you dig your fingers down the planes of his back vengefully. His waist narrows into an elegant taper, and when you reach the part of his back where his ass begins to swell, you exert firm pressure against the base of his tail.
If you had done it to a human, you know it would have hurt. But instead the tightness of the muscle unfurls under your fingers, and Neteyam gives a long, low groan. The sound is delightfully gravelly, and you take a breath as you feel molten heat ooze down into your belly and settle between your legs. Itâs not a reaction you had been expecting.
You sit back onto his lower back, avoiding his tail. From here, you have a truly captivating view of how slick his back looks from the ointment, and how his skin glows in the dim light of the hut. His body really is perfect, and your eyes track over the taut shiny scars that litter his skin.
âMmm. May I get up? Or do you want to sit on me a little while longer?â Neteyamâs low voice breaks you out of your stupor, and youâre horrified to find that youâve just been sitting there with your wet panties pressed against his back beneath your thin shorts.
You scramble off him quickly, flustered and clumsy. It had been a bold move to straddle him in the first place, and now you feel very stupid about it.
âYou should apologise to Txetyo.â You blurt, just to say something into the silence.
âWhy are we still talking about Txetyo?â Neteyam has always been a relatively tolerant and even-keeled man, but you can hear irritation beginning to bubble up in his voice.
âBecauseââ You start to say, but then Neteyam rolls over so that heâs laying on his back.ï»ż
Now that he's lying on his back, stretched out all long and lithe, your eyes rove over his face and then down his throat, his chest, his stomach, his hips. Your eyes catch on the protrusion between his legs and stick there, your mouth dropping open in surprise when you see that his loincloth is tented.
âBecause- he⊠you were tooââ You try valiantly to finish your sentence, but your thoughts have scattered to the wind.
Heâs hard. Why the fuck is he hard? Is that just from you rubbing his back? Oh my god, what are you supposed to say? It feels like his hard-on is staring at you.
Neteyam pushes himself up into a sitting position, his hands planted on the woven rug behind him as he pushes himself up so that heâs sitting looming over you. Once heâs upright, Neteyam flexes his shoulders and groans slightly as he goes. It doesn't sound like a pained groan, thankfully.
The movement brings him closer to you than you had been expecting, and you end up freezing. Like this, you can see the way his expression has smoothed into one of relief. His shoulders are looser too, no longer held bunched up around his neck.
Neteyam doesn't seem to notice your close proximity, nor the way you have tensed at the lack of space between them. Youâre not touching, but youâre so close that you swear you can physically feel the air between you.
âIf Txetyo is so upset about being beaten by me in training, then he should focus on getting better instead of slinking away with his tail between his legs and trying to screw you in a corner of my grandmotherâs hut.â
You gape at him like an absolute idiot, floored by the acerbity in his tone. Youâve always thought Neteyam was a bit of a dickhead, but that was mostly because of his nearly insufferable need to always be the best. Always the best warrior, the best son, the best brother, the best future Oloâeyktan. The best role model to his peers.
âSo thatâs what this is about.â You say, your voice coming out distinctly accusatory. âYou donât like that your friends are fucking a human, is that it?â
Neteyam doesnât even bother answering. He just rolls his now loosened shoulders and watches you carefully. He doesn't tell you to back off, or wrinkle his nose at you, or act as though he's repulsed by you. He just stares at you across the miniscule space between you, and that only angers you further.
âIs that why you keep interrupting whenever Iâm with any of the other tsamsiyu?â You demand, fists clenching. âWhat, you donât like that your friends find a tawtute attractive? Is that why you keep cockblocking me?â
Neteyam huffs a quiet snort, as though he thinks youâre being stupid.
âI hear what some of the Naâvi in the village say, about how itâs shameful to be with a tawtute.â You hiss. âI just didnât think youâd be one of them.â
And if youâre honest with yourself, it sort of hurts. Neteyam has always gotten on your nerves with his confusing mix of overconfidence and jagged insecurities, and he had really infuriated you when he had started to interrupt all of those illicit little meetups you had planned with some of the boys in the village, but you hadnât actually thought that he had any disdain for you like some of the other Naâvi.
And then you do something so stupid that it shocks even you.
Your eyes drop back down to the tent in his tewng, eyeing it thoughtfully, before reaching out and running your fingers over the hardened outline of his cock through the fabric with purpose.
Neteyam hisses, and his hips actually lift off the floor in an attempt to follow your touch.
âGod, youâre a hypocrite, arenât you?â You breathe, fighting to keep your voice casual. âHow can you judge your friends for fucking around with me when youâre this hard after just a backrub?â
âTheyâre not my friends.â Neteyam grunts, his jaw clenching as his head tilts back. His hips rock into your hand.
Your touch goes firmer, and then your hand slips under his loincloth. Youâve had plenty of sexual encounters with Naâvi men, but this is different.
This is Neteyam. This encounter feels like proving a point. A very sexually charged point.
His cock is silky smooth and hot to the touch, and you feel a little drunk as your fingers close around it. And damn, it feels big. All Naâvi cocks are big compared to your hands, but this⊠feels different. You were aroused anyway, youâve been feeling pent up all damn week, but now that your hand is on his dick your nerves are fizzing up.
Itâs a surprise when Neteyamâs big hand settles on your waist to tug you closer, and you feel your stomach swoop when he pulls you forward. You donât release his cock even as he pulls you to settle over one of his thighs, your legs slotted in between his, and you can feel him harden even further beneath you.
You wonder absently if it's really you that's causing his very obvious arousal or if it's just a natural consequence of the massage; either way, when his hips flex up towards you, they press right in between your legs.
You shiver almost violently, the sensation of him pressing hot and hard against your core frying your nerves and wiping your thoughts clean. The part of your brain that had been screaming about what a bad idea this whole thing is has become muffled now, and your own hips jerk against his.
âYouâre such an asshole,â You say, though your voice comes out reedy and breathless. âYou of all people donât have a right to talk shit about those guys just cause theyâre into humans, especially when your cock is this hard, and especially considering where your dad came fromââ
He lets out a soft, quiet noise as you move against him, and uses his grip on the back of your top to pull you tighter against him yet again. âDonât talk about my father when you have my cock in your hand.â
It takes what feels like a monumental effort to wrench your hand away from him, and he lets out a wordless grunt of dissatisfaction as his hips twitch in an effort to follow your hand. Itâs delightfully pathetic, and you feel your ego swell at the sheer sense of power that washes over you; itâs a rare feeling, especially when youâre faced with a big blue alien almost twice your size.
âYou should apologise to Txetyo.â You sound like an out of breath idiot. âItâs not like you can judge him for being with a tawtute when youâre that hard from me just touching you.â
Neteyam just stares at you, his jaw clenching and his honey eyes dark as he takes several breaths through his nose. Youâve never seen him like this before; youâve never seen any of the men youâve been with like this before. It looks as though heâs holding onto a thin veneer of control, and you wonder if heâs angry with you, if youâve perhaps pushed him too far.
âThat was never the issue.â He says and fuck, his voice has gone so gravelly. âAnd donât pretend that youâre not wet beneath those clothes of yours. I can smell it.â
Your thighs squeeze together as you swallow hard, struggling to maintain your aura of indifference and no doubt failing.
âThatâs because of Txetyo.â You say, and it tastes like a lie on your tongue. âYou interrupted us.â
Neteyam laughs quietly and humourlessly. His expression suggests that he doesnât find anything about this conversation funny, and his hand is still splayed across your back. Youâre so damn conscious of how big his palm is as it spreads across your spine. Why the hell hasnât he let go of you yet?
âAh, I see.â Neteyam murmurs. âYou would have fucked him in my grandmotherâs hut?â
Your mouth is so damn dry, and you swallow compulsively. âItâs not any of your business who I fuck.â
Neteyamâs smile is grim. âTxetyo would fuck his own shadow if he were nimble enough to catch it. You have terrible taste in men.â
You rear back. Youâre surprised by how much that hurts. Living as a human on Pandora is lonely, and itâs not like you have people lining up outside the human outpost looking to spend time with you. If you want any sort of companionship or intimacy, you have to accept any attention that you can get. And sure, most of that attention comes from men that only want to get their dicks wet, or the experience of being with a tawtute, but itâs better than nothing at all.
âWell, we canât all be the Oloâeyktanâs son.â You say, your voice stiff and cold. âWe donât all have countless suitors throwing themselves at our feet. Some of us have to accept attention from whoeverâs interested.â
Neteyamâs expression shifts, an odd look appearing in his eyes, and your stomach swoops. You donât think you could bear to see pity in his eyes, so you pull away from him, shaking his hands off.
âYour scratch is fine.â You say, your voice thin and a little thready. âYouâre all treated.
âHeyââ
As you stumble to your feet, Neteyam reaches out as if to stop you. You dodge his hands, unable to look him in the eye.
Panic is starting to set in now; what had you been thinking, touching him like that just after he had chided you for flirting with Txetyo in the tsahĂŹkâs hut? God, you feel like such an idiot. He must think youâre so pathetic.
Like a coward, you turn on your heel and flee out of the hut. You need air, you need to be out of the cool darkness of the hut, you need to be away from the overwhelming weight of Neteyamâs presence. Through the blood rushing in your ears you can distantly hear Neteyam call to you, but youâre too desperate to escape from the whole humiliating interaction to stop and listen.
You stagger out of the hut, squinting at the evening light; it seems blinding after spending all day in the dim musty air of Moâatâs healing hut. You pat at your rumpled shirt and creased denim shorts, flustered and frenzied as you try to straighten yourself out.
âTawtute?â
You jerk, gasping, and whirl to find that Txetyo is sitting on a log a few feet away from the hut, apparently waiting for you to finish up with Neteyam. You feel like youâre burning up from a mixture of mortification and confused arousal and youâre certain that Neteyam is about to follow you out.
âIâ I have to go!â You blurt, already stepping back towards the forest.
Txetyo frowns, obviously bewildered, but he doesnât stand. âDonât you want toââ
You donât wait for him to finish. Youâre already fleeing, disappearing into the trees as you run the whole way home.
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
It might be a little cowardly, but you avoid the village for days after that.
You stick to the outpost, watching Norm and Max and the other scientists work. You try not to die of boredom, and you try not to overthink and overthink and overthink.
But you have too much time on your hands as you slink around the outpost, and you canât stop feeling guilty about abandoning your attempts to help Moâat out in her healing hut.
You also canât stop thinking about the shift of Neteyamâs muscles in the low dim light, or the silky hot feel of his cock in your hand, or the soft breathy grunts he had let out as his hips rocked. It feels like the experience has actually rewired your brain, as though youâll never recover from it.
Growing up on Pandora as a human has been lonely. The only other human your age is Spider, who had become the closest thing you have to a brother â and you love him even when you feel like throttling him, but sometimes you just yearn for more.
You want companionship, you want understanding, you want romance, you want sexual intimacy. You donât think itâs too much to ask for, and if you have to turn to big nine-feet-tall Naâvi warriors who just want to say theyâve had the experience of sleeping with a tawtute, then thatâs⊠fine. Even if itâs only temporary.
Part of you is honestly relieved when Spider finally manages to force you out of the outpost and back to the village. Itâs a relief to get back into the forest, to the village, to the life youâre used to. The outpost has nothing on the vibrancy of the village life, and you feel as though you can breathe for the first time in days upon stepping back into the village, even if itâs through your respirator mask.
Thereâs been a big hunt today, and the village is buzzing with excitement. You pass by several willowy Naâvi covered in celebratory paint, and follow the sound of the heavy thumping of drums.
The evening after a hunt is always a joyful affair, and you gradually start to relax throughout the night. You feast on collected fruit, hum along to some of the music, and sit comfortably with Spider all evening. At some point youâre joined by Loâak, which you donât mind either; Loâak has always been the kind of outcast that fits comfortably between the edges of you and Spider. Those edges have smoothed out as he got older, but heâs always been a cool guy to hang out with.
When heâs not joining Spider in ganging up on you, that is.
âSoâ so wait, wait, let me get this straight,â Loâak is waving his hands as though trying to settle down a group of rowdy children, even though itâs just the three of you present. âNeteyam walked in on you fucking again, but this time it was in grandmotherâs hutââ
Youâre sat around the large campfire in the middle of the village, tucked away from the main celebrations. Part of you is flourishing being in this environment again, but another part is withering at this damn conversation. You glance around nervously, hoping that no casual observers can hear you guys talking.
âTxetyo only had his hand up my top!â You hiss hastily. âWe werenât actuallyâ and we would have gone somewhere else when it came down to it!â
âTxetyo is a dickhead.â Spider complains, leaning heavily on your side. Heâs so frequently dwarfed by the Naâvi that itâs easy to forget that heâs over six-feet-tall and corded with muscle, and his bulk is heavy.
Irritatingly, Loâak leans into you the same way on the other side, though heâs more careful about leaning his full weight, and you end up crushed in between the two idiots.
âHe isnât.â You protest, pushing back against their weight. âHeâsââ
âNah, he is.â Loâak interrupts before you can defend him. âTotal skxawng. You know he keeps telling people heâs the best archer in the clan? And yet he didnât manage to catch anything in todayâs huntââ
You try not to wince at that. Itâs impossible to miss that while Txetyo may not have been successful in the hunt today, someone else is being lauded for their skill and success.
Neteyam has been given a place of honour by the fire next to his parents, and the careful swirls of paint all over his body canât hide the proud glow on his face. Under the smooth veneer of Neteyamâs smiles and cheer was the jagged edge of his inferiority complex, his need to always be better and to be liked. Funnily enough, his insecurity has always been your favourite part of him. It felt real in a way his cockiness didnât.
You canât stop yourself from glancing over. Night has already fallen and there are many couples dancing, the flickering firelight sending wild shadows across the gathering. But even in the unsteady light, you catch the intense golden stare of Neteyam watching you from across the circle.
You hastily turn your face away, pressing your lips together tight as you try to pretend like you hadnât been looking in the first place.
ââHeâs better than Artâalak, at least.â Spider says, continuing on the conversation that you had checked out of for a few moments. âThat guy was awful. I mean, what did you even see in him?â
You roll your eyes, sinking further back into the stupidly heavy weight of Spider and Loâak in a silly attempt to hide yourself from view. It almost definitely doesnât work, and you can still feel the weight of Neteyamâs stare on you, even as you fixedly ignore him.
âPretty sure we donât want the answer to that one, man.â Loâak says, snickering.
His eyes glance around, before flashing across the gathering as though he can also feel Neteyamâs attention. You frown as Loâak hastily removes his arm from around your shoulders, even leaning away from you a little.
âIâm allowed to want company.â You say loftily, though youâre certain that your voice is a little shaky.
It feels like your skin is heating up under Neteyamâs eyes, and you feel yourself getting shifty. Why wonât he just look away?
Loâak obviously notices his brotherâs attention, because he leans a little closer so he can speak quietly in your ear.
âMy brother can be unbearable,â Loâak murmurs, âBut heâs not a bad guy.â
âGross.â You wrinkle your nose playfully at Loâakâs rare display of sincerity about his brother and he hisses at you, swiping at your head.
Itâs all in jest, which is obvious given how gentle his hands are with you, and you laugh and lean away.
âI justâ I donât understand him.â You sigh once your laughter has tapered off. âI mean, I get that he doesnât approve of the whole interspecies thing, but itâs like he goes out of his way to catch me in embarrassing situations. If he finds it gross, why seek it out?â
Loâak purses his lips and avoids your eyes. âUhâŠâ
âAnytime he shows up, the guys Iâm with go running.â You continue, your brows knitting into a frown. âI mean, itâs getting ridiculous. Why canât he just mind his own business?â
Loâakâs eyes dart over your head, and you just know that he and Spider are sharing a look together.
âHe doesnâtâ I wouldnât say he disapproves of interspecies relationshipsââ Loâak says, but he fumbles a little in his attempt to get his words out and darts another panicked glance across the fire towards where Neteyam is sitting with their father.
You just scoff, crossing your arms defensively across your chest. You feel a little vulnerable talking about this; usually, youâre content to suffer through the embarrassment of having your sex partners pretending they donât know you in public alone, but since Neteyam had started walking in on you, now he knows that theyâre doing it too.
âHe scolds them like theyâre children whenever he walks in on us, talking about how theyâre neglecting their duties and all that,â You mutter, scowling. âBut itâs obviously because heâs annoyed that his friends are messing around with a Sky Person.â
Spider shifts at your side, making an odd sound beneath his breath. You turn to look at him, but heâs staring rather fixedly at a tree branch overhead. Loâak clears his throat, similarly looking off to the side to avoid your eyes.
You frown. It feels as though theyâre hiding something from you, and the thought is unsettling.
âWhat?â You demand, sitting forward and staring intently at them.
âNothing,â Loâak protests, but his voice is a little too high-pitched to be believable. âUh⊠Itâs just⊠well, I really donât think that Neteyam has a problem with interspecies relationships. Our dad came from the Sky, too!â
You think that Loâak probably intended for that to be reassuring, but instead you find your stomach sinking miserably.
âOh.â You say, pursing your lips. âSo itâs me that he has a problem with.â
âNo!â Loâak protests, but then he pauses. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to form a response under the weight of your narrowed eyes.
When no explanation comes, you end up just averting your gaze and looking towards the fire. Itâs stupid, but youâre not sure what you were even expecting. Neteyam has always been perfect in his personal life, his duties, his relationships within the clan, his looks. Itâs hardly a surprise that heâs developed a distaste for you â you know what Sky People represent to the Naâvi, after all.
Across the gathering, two Naâvi girls are shooting looks at Spider. You almost think theyâre looking at him in disgust, but when Spider catches their eye and smiles back they both look away giggling.
You click your tongue and roll your eyes. You wonder when exactly it was that the Naâvi your age stopped seeing you as human nuisances that haunt the village, and started instead seeing you as people with possible sexual appeal.
âThat is just unfair.â You intone dully. âYou get Naâvi girls flirting with you from across the campfire, and I get Naâvi boys fucking me in corners and then pretending they donât know me. And thatâs only if I donât get rudely interrupted by Loâakâs asshole brother.â
âMen.â Loâak says in a disparaging tone that sounds as though itâs meant to be sympathetic, but it falls short as heâs biting his tongue to keep from laughing. âMaybe you just have bad taste.â
Spider laughs too, though heâs still looking in the Naâvi girlsâ direction. Thereâs a pink flush in his cheeks, and his smile looks distinctly pleased.
âYeah,â You grumble, sinking down where youâre sitting. âIâm hearing that a lot.â
The conversation moves on then, Loâak nudging at Spider over your head and grinning as he recounts the highlights from the hunt earlier that day, but youâre distracted. You hardly even hear a word they say, too busy staring broodingly into the fire.
Luckily, neither Loâak nor Spider mind your silence. Theyâre perfectly content to fill the quiet themselves, chatting and babbling and joking over your head.
Youâre drifting, lost in your own thoughts until you hear Loâak and Spider go quiet. You glance over to them, only to realise why theyâve stopped talking â Neteyam is walking your way.
You stiffen, eyes narrowing behind your respirator mask as he comes to a stop before you all. He greets his brother and Spider briefly, distractedly, before his big amber eyes settle on you.
All you can do is wait, tensed. You have no idea what heâs going to do or say, but if he says something about that day in the healing hut you might actually scream.
But Neteyam doesnât immediately say anything. He crouches in front of you, his gaze as measured and even as ever, and proffers a wrapped utumauti leaf to you. For a moment, you just stare at it as though itâs something venomous.
âA portion of yerik meat,â Neteyam clarifies, not even blinking as he watches your face. âFrom the hunt earlier.â
Oh. Now you see. Heâs just showing off, like he always does. Heâs always doing things like this, just to show off his skills, his prowess, how strong he is. Itâs irritating; everyone already knows how great he is, and heâs already practically revered throughout the village. You donât know why he keeps trying to flaunt his greatness in front of you, other than the fact that he must love to annoy you.
Spider nudges you in the side, and you reach out to take the wrapped meat from Neteyamâs outstretched hand.
âThank you.â You say, a little tersely.
Neteyam just nods, his tail coiling. He watches your face for another moment, and all the unspoken tension between you from the other day seems to swell to unbearable heights. His ears twitch, and then he glances over his shoulder to where his parents are sitting by the fire. Theyâre watching, which makes you feel itchy and embarrassed.
âI should return.â He says simply, before standing and nodding at you, then Spider and Loâak, before straightening up and walking back to his place by Jake, his tail swaying low.
Thereâs a long moment of silence, where you can feel Loâak and Spider staring at you.
âDonât.â You say sharply when you see Loâakâs mouth open, and he closes it with a click.
This feels embarrassing, as though Neteyam is mocking you somehow. Itâs not the first time heâs given you food, always making sure to let you know he caught it himself. Itâs like he has a damn pathological need to show off his skills, to try and prove himself, to prove that heâs better than anyone else. Itâs aggravating, even more so now that Loâak has made it clear that itâs you that Neteyam has a problem with.
Eventually, Spider and Loâak return to their conversation and you pull back, sitting silently between them. You pull your mask off for a brief moment to nibble at the meat. Youâre a little irritated to admit that itâs delicious, and you sit back to lean into Spiderâs side as you chew at it sullenly.
Youâve just begun to wonder if this night is a total bust altogether when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You raise your head, surprised to see the sight of Txetyo stepping towards you.
At your side, Spider and Loâak share a look before sitting up straighter.
âTawtute,â Txetyo greets, nodding his head at you. He casts a single cautious look towards Loâak, before focusing on you properly.
He is keeping his voice purposely low so that no one else can hear, but you canât bring yourself to care. This is the most public setting that any man has ever actually approached you in, and you can feel your expression brightening already.
âHello.â You murmur, smiling sweetly at him. The last time you had seen him had been right after you had fled the tsahikâs hut, right after you had touched Neteyamâ and no, you are not thinking about that right now.
âI would like to speak with you.â Txetyo murmurs, his voice low as he darts one more quick look between Loâak and Spider before settling on you again.
You brighten. Youâre under no illusions about what Txetyo wants to âspeakâ about, and you can safely assume that there will be little to no talking involved at all.
Yes. A distraction. This is exactly what you need.
âSure.â You say, your lips curving up in a coy smile as you unfold yourself from where youâve been sitting between Spider and Loâak.
âUhââ Loâak starts to say, but youâre already beginning to step away with Txetyo, whoâs beginning to lead you away from the gathering.
Maybe itâs a little impulsive, but youâre feeling reckless tonight. You can still feel Neteyamâs eyes boring into your back as you follow Txetyo towards the treeline, but you determinedly refuse to look. The celebration should be enough of a distraction to keep him busy and away from you for a while so you can finally get laid.
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
You resist the urge to check the time on your battered old wristwatch as Txetyo slides down your body and repositions himself between your legs.
It feels like such a long time since youâve hooked up successfully with anyone, with no interruptions, which is probably why youâve been so affected by all-things-Neteyam recently. You were hoping that this encounter with Txetyo would restore you back to normal, to get rid of all the thoughts of Neteyamâs intense golden stare and pretty face and silken hot cock that are absolutely haunting you.
Yet, so far, the nightâs been less than stellar. Txetyo had led you away from the celebrations, and you had to try hard to pretend like you donât see him looking around compulsively to make sure that no one else has seen him leave with you. You had followed him into the trees, and had brightened up when he took your hand as soon as you were out of sight of the gathering.
Before you knew it, you were on your back on the forest floor with your panties around your ankles and your dress rucked up around your waist as Txetyo loomed over you on his hands and knees.
Txetyo is handsome, and heâs big and strong and heâs not opposed to hooking up with a Sky Person, but heâs not much for conversation and it seems like heâs only really got one thing on his mind. Apparently, your list of criteria might be a little lacking, because Txetyoâs also proving to be woefully bad at sex.
He spreads your legs and buries his face there. You blink at the canopy of glowing foliage overhead, grimacing. Honestly, youâd think that anything tongue-adjacent would feel good against a clit, but thatâs just not true. Txetyo seems to have an affinity for moving his tongue rapidly and aimlessly against you, resulting in nothing better than the occasional teasing â definitely by accident.
You shift a little, try to angle your hips so that Txetyoâs mouth is over your clit, but he doesnât seem to pick up on what youâre attempting to do at all. He just moves his mouth away, jabbing his tongue sort of aimlessly at your left labia.
âCould youâ a bit higherââ You say, trying to shift again.
Txetyoâs mouth is rather sloppy against your pussy, but youâre not actually sure what heâs doing down there. He seems to be missing every possible nerve ending that might feel good, which is actually a little bit impressive.
You sigh, and just resign yourself to getting bad head. You let your head thunk back against the mossy forest floor, your legs hanging off of Txetyoâs big shoulders as he hunches between your thighs.
Itâs almost imperceptible, but the quiet âcrackâ of a twig breaking underfoot has your head snapping around in a panic.
Though night has fallen, itâs never truly dark on Pandora. The moss beneath you glows faintly, illuminating the outline of your body as you lay there with Txetyo getting busy between your legs. The trees and foliage around you are similarly phosphorescent, your surroundings all lit up in luminous vibrance.
Pandoraâs bioluminescence is beautiful; it also means that you can see Neteyamâs figure all dimly lit up as he leans against the trunk of a tree about fifteen feet away.
Neteyamâs head is cocked to the side as he very obviously takes in the scene before him, his head turning to scan up and down your body. His little luminous freckles are lit up and glowing, and itâs impossible to miss the fact that his golden eyes are fixed on you, so intense that itâs almost breathtaking.
You almost scream. You mean to, but instead you moan, completely by accident, and Txetyo groans between your legs.
You donât know what to do. Youâre gaping at Neteyam, who seems all too content to just watch you, meanwhile Txetyo is totally oblivious. Heâs still doing nothing right, but something deep inside you pulses.
Moments later, much to your horror, Neteyam takes a small, tentative step forward. He stands only a few feet away, behind Txetyo and in plain view of you.
Go away! You mouth, staring at him in disbelief.
Neteyam scratches his head, feigning confusion, and then he takes another step forward.
He doesnât say anything. Why isnât he saying anything? Itâs not the first time heâs walked in on you in a situation like this, but usually by this point heâs started making snarky comments, which in turn makes the men youâre with scramble away from you like youâre diseased.
Your dress is pushed up clumsily around your stomach, exposing your pussy. Thereâs a man between your legs. Youâre in the process of getting fucked and Neteyam is watching, goddammit.
It definitely, absolutely is not hot. And yet⊠your hips twitch, and your breath hitches.
âThat feel good?â Txetyo asks, peering up to grin at you. Your attention is dragged back to him and you blink, dazed.
âYeah,â You lie. âSo good.â
âMm,â Txetyo hums in satisfaction, slipping two fingers into you. âGood.â
You grunt at the stretch of his thick fingers, breathing deep. His mouth returns, his fingers jabbing kind of aimlessly, but it hardly matters. Your attention is locked on Neteyam, and itâs somehow making Txetyoâs useless attempts feel somewhat invigorating.
âOh god,â You gasp. Youâre so confused. Part of you is still waiting for Neteyam to speak up, to make a sound or to clear his throat. Something. But he just watches on, his pretty eyes dark.
âMm, so pretty,â Txetyo murmurs from between your legs, still blissfully unaware of your onlooker. âCan I fuck you now, tawtute?â
Despite yourself, you find your eyes darting over to Neteyam. The stupid fucker is still looking, and when he sees that youâve looked at him his lips quirk. Your whole body flushes deep with heat, and you try to pretend like you arenât taking direction from him; usually, his appearance would have stopped this entire encounter dead in its tracks. But youâre continuing, and the fact is, you feel as though you need his permission or something.
âY-yes.â You say.
Neteyam purses his lips, and raises his non-existent brows. Fuck, what does that mean?
âHow would you like me toââ
âJust like this.â You blurt. It feels, for some reason, as though you canât risk Txetyo noticing Neteyam. This is the only way you can see Neteyam without Txetyo noticing him, anyway.
Txetyo shuffles up your body, his bulk dwarfing you. Thereâs a momentâs struggle as heâs lining himself up against your pussy, groaning low as he pushes into you. The stretch is intense, and a little painful, as always; you never quite get used to the bone-deep satisfaction of that achey biting stretch in your cunt.
The stretch is satisfying, like it always is, but itâs not necessarily special. Txetyo is not as evenly proportioned as he looks, and his cock is smaller than other Naâvi youâve been with. That is, mostly, a good thing; it means he can fuck you without lube, which you usually have to use to accommodate the shocking stretch of taking a Naâvi cock. It also means that you adjust to having him inside you a little quicker, your muscles easing gradually around the intrusion of his dick.
What is special (or at least unusual) is the fact that Neteyam is still watching. You stare back, maintaining a bewilderingly intense sort of eye contact. Txetyo groans as your cunt clenches down on him, and he lowers his face to bury it in your shoulder; like this, your view of Neteyam is completely unimpeded.
âAh! Youâre so tight,â Txetyo hisses. âThis is okay?â
âYes,â You gasp. âYou can move.â
And by God, does Txetyo move. He jerks in and out of you with a complete lack of coordination. You bounce and flop against the luminescent bed of moss beneath you, occasionally throwing a hand over your head to try and anchor yourself to a tree root behind you, just to stay put for a second or two.
Neteyam is undoubtedly amused. He has a hand pressed to his mouth, and the skin around his eyes is scrunched up with mirth. At one point, when Txetyo starts humping into you so desperately that you grunt, wincing, Neteyam doubles over himself completely, laughing silently.
âOh, oh,â Txetyo groans. âTawtute, I am going toâ you are so tight, so hot insideâ"
You smack one of Txetyoâs hands away from where heâd been rubbing determinedly at the side of your vulva. You rub at your clit instead in fast, harsh circles, staring at Neteyam desperately. You donât actually know what youâre looking for, or what you want him to do⊠but you want him to do something.
Neteyam reaches down to palm the bulge at the front of his tewng that you hadnât even noticed until now, and you moan. You rub yourself even faster, attempting to angle your hips in any way that could increase your pleasure from Txetyo. It seems impossible, but you manage to catch one or two good strokes.
âPlease, pleaseâ!â You gasp, eyes wide as you maintain eye contact with Neteyam over the wide bulk of Txetyoâs shoulders.
Neyeyam moans. Itâs low, barely noticeable under Txetyoâs own strangled sounds, but you hear it clearly. Your body seizes up and then youâre coming, gasping high and quick as you drink Neteyam in with your eyes, frozen under Neteyamâs gaze in turn.
âUnnng,â Txetyo grunts as he comes too, thrusting into you through the last shocks of his orgasm.
You barely even blink, your eyes fixed wide open as you tremble, your breaths shaky. Neteyam doesnât break eye contact either, watching you so damn closely that it feels bizarrely as though heâs watching a show youâre putting on, as though all of this is for him. The worst part is you feel as though youâd be lying if you said it wasnât.
Neteyam silently turns and slips away through the foliage, and Txetyo flops onto the mossy ground beside you moments later, breathing heavily.
âThat was good.â Txetyo sighs, his voice thick with satisfaction.
You donât reply, still staring at the place Neteyam had disappeared into the trees. Youâre partly unable to believe what just happened and partly turned on beyond belief, just knowing it did.
What the fuck?
A/N: Sorry this took so long! I literally rewrote this like three times before I figured out what I wanted. Hopefully the next part will be a lot easier for me lol. Again, thanks for the love I got on the last chapters, and to everyone who left a comment under them, you get a little kiss on the forehead (consentually)
Word count: 7.5k (I literally cut out like 700 words too)
Chapter 1Â Â Â Â Chapter 2
âThat wasnât fair!â
You laughed at Lo'ak as he came up on his ilu behind you, looking a little sour at your victory. You slid off of your own ilu into the waist-high water and shrugged casually. âIt is not my fault you took the long way,â you told him with a smug grin. He huffed at you. âOnly because I didnât know there was a short way,â he muttered.
The two of you had been out that morning collecting sea grass to make more ropes, a never-ending demand in the reef. After gathering as much as you could pack, you had suggested a friendly race back to the village, and Lo'ak, powerless to resist a challenge, had agreed. Now, he was wallowing bitterly in your victory wake.
Keep reading
love love love this!!!!! :)
hi hi hi!!! i saw that you were open to shadow and bone requests and i was wondering if youâd be willing to write a nikolai lantsov imagine? just imagine princess!reader being forced into an arranged marriage with the second son of the king of ravka, and instead of going through with it she runs away. she then stumbles upon a particularly charming privateer who just so manages to win over her heartâŠâŠ
Enchanted
Request: hi hi hi!!! i saw that you were open to shadow and bone requests and i was wondering if youâd be willing to write a nikolai lantsov imagine? just imagine princess!reader being forced into an arranged marriage with the second son of the king of ravka, and instead of going through with it she runs away. she then stumbles upon a particularly charming privateer who just so manages to win over her heartâŠ
and: btw I saw your post about sab season 2 and i would like to request something with nikolai. i dont really have any ideas but i love that blonde boy so anything that you'll write with him is going to make me happy- but if its angst please im begging for a happy ending im already depressed because im reading rules of wolves
and: omg omg omg enchanted x nikolai sounds so perfect đ literally written for him
Hi! I absolutely adore these requests, thank you for sending them in. And sorry for the long wait, Iâve been a bit busy. And please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing for Nikolai, this is only my second time. Also, this request was combined with two others, I hope thatâs alright, and sorry for anyone whoâs request was altered a little bit to fit this story. Iâm happy to accept another request if you donât like this one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!Â
(Warnings: arranged marriage, swearing, very very brief angst, very vague suggestive content, drinking, let me know if i missed anything)
â
You had nearly begged on your knees when you found out you were to be wed, pleading with your parentsâ advisors.Â
You were no fool. You knew that one day youâd have to marry, and you were prepared to do your duty. A Princess isnât awarded the luxury of a choice, and you knew any match that was made probably wouldnât be from a place of love. But you never thought your parents would be prepared to ship you off to a man none of you had ever even laid eyes on, and thatâs including the advisors.
A second son, and a rumored bastard at that. It was all happening too fast, and you werenât having an easy time processing it.Â
âYou canât send me! We already have an alliance with Ravka, why send me still?â
One of the men had stood, trying to ease you. âYou must go, Princess. We may have an alliance, but our forces need to be strengthened. Prince Vasily is already spoken for. Marrying you to Prince Nikolai is the fastest way.â
âI am told he is charming, if it is any consolation,â another man said, though his voice was firmer. âIt is time, Princess, for you to do your duty. You will marry.â
You finally relented, your fate beginning to set in. âThatâs it, then. When will I be expected to leave?â
There was a moment of silence, and an awkward shuffling of feet as the advisors stood. And then one of the men spoke, sending dread running through you like ice in your veins.Â
âYour arrival is set for the end of the week. The King and Queen are expecting you.â
â
The journey passed far quicker than you had anticipated. A trip like that should have been grueling, yet each moment felt more fleeting than the last. By the time you arrived on Ravkan soil, you would practically be theirs. Upon your arrival, you were escorted to the Great Hall to meet the King and Queen.Â
âMoi tsar,â you curtsied, keeping your eyes low. âMoi tsaritsa. It is an honor.â
The words tasted sour on your tongue, but you spoke them anyway. The King and Queen were not known to be the kindest of people, and youâd rather spend your time in a foreign country on the good side of the sovereign.Â
âPrincess,â the King greeted as he stood, his eyes racking your body. âYou are as beautiful as they say. My son will be pleased. Unfortunately, your arrival has preceded his. He attended a meeting with our generals, and is set to arrive in a few days. The wedding will be in a fortnight. Until then, please enjoy our hospitality. I look forward to this new found alliance between our great countries.â
âAs do I,â you said, forcing a smile.Â
â
As the days passed, you grew more uneasy. The weight of your duties were beginning to drag you down, and you didnât know if you could bear the burden any longer.Â
Nikolai had yet to return to court, but with his inevitable arrival looming, it became harder to face each day. You were practically alone in the castle, having yet to make any friends. And you doubted the arrival of a Princeâthe subject of scandalous rumorsâwould do anything to lessen the loneliness and fear you felt every night.Â
One evening, the pressure became too great.
Despite your duties, and the anger you knew both countries would feel towards you, you fled. It was a rash decision, and a stupid one at that. But it was the only option that could give you your freedom, so you took it.
It led you all the way down to the harbor, which you briskly made your way to with little more than the clothes on your back.
Your window of opportunity was closing, and you took it. In mere hours, someone would notice you were missing from your room. Guards would be sent all throughout the palace, and theyâd track you down if you werenât quick enough. One way or another, you would marry the second Prince of Ravka. Youâd be forced to. And although the thought of being alone in an open country you knew next to nothing about terrified you, it was less terrifying than the thought of being trapped in that castle forever.Â
So you went. Fled, more accurately. All the way to the harbor, in nothing but a dress and cloak, with a bag of coins hidden in your skirts.Â
As you approached the harbor, the shout of guards could be heard in the distance. âSpread out! She cannot have gone far.â
The Kingsguard.
You felt your chest tighten as you quickened your pace, pulling your hood over your head. You rushed as inconspicuously as you could, clambering to get as far from the palace as possible. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your wrist.Â
âWhatâs the rush for, My Lady? Youâre going to hurt yourself running in those shoes,â the woman said, her brows furrowing.
You stopped in your tracks to take her in, realizing she was standing next to a much larger man. She had axes sheathed at her waist, and a confused but intrigued grin.Â
âPlease, excuse meââ You stuttered out, trying to pull away.
âThereâs no need to be afraid,â the man said, in a tone much gentler than his appearance. âWe mean you no harm. What are you running from?â
âI need to get away from here, and fast,â you pleaded, deciding to trust these people who stopped you.Â
âThat wasnât an answer to our question,â the woman said, easing her grip.Â
You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to look over your shoulder before turning back. âPlease, Iâll pay you whatever you want. Just let me go. I have to get out of here, and quickly.â
The woman shared a glance with the man, and for a minute, you were beginning to think you had been found out. They somehow recognized you, and would know that the castle guards were looking for you. If that was true, the pair didnât show it, looking back at you.Â
âWe have a ship,â the man finally said, gesturing behind him. âAnd a captain. A name youâd perhaps recognize. Sturmhond.â
Sturmhond, you thought to yourself. The richest pirate on the True Sea? What was he doing in a port in Ravka? You shook your head, having no time for questions.Â
âWould he grant me safe passage? I can pay, I have the means. Please, I need to know if this is my only option of getting out of here. I havenât done anything illegal, I promise. I just need to go.â
The woman laughed, her relaxed disposition beginning to ease you. âIllegal would have been more fun. Donât worry, Princess. Weâll take you to our captain. Youâll be safe with us.â
Your eyes widened, and you stepped back to retreat, when the man raised his hands in surrender.Â
âWe mean you no harm, Princess. Clearly, youâre in trouble, and we have the means to get you away from the palace.â
âTrust me,â the woman said, offering you her hand. âWe have no wish to return to the palace.. Iâm sure our captain isnât too keen, either.â
You looked between the ship and back at the castle uneasily, when you heard another shout coming from the guards marching through the village. You turned towards the man and woman, who you just realized looked very similar. Siblings, perhaps, who had just gotten back from a journey at sea.
âSturmhond is quite the character, but heâs a good man. You have my word,â the man said.Â
âAlright,â you said, making your decision as you took the womanâs hand. âIâll go. Thank you, uhâŠâ
You trailed off, making the man smile. He led you towards a nearby ship, helping you climb your way onto it.Â
âIâm Tolya, and thatâs my sister Tamar. Weâre part of Sturmhondâs crew. Come along, heâll want to meet you.â
They quickly led you aboard a ship, ushering the crew to cast off. The crew looked around with confused faces, but listened anyway. As the ship slowly left the harbor, you were led downstairs to the cabins below.Â
âCaptain,â Tamar called, knocking on the first doorway below deck, before opening the door herself.Â
âDo you want to tell me why my ship is moving away from the dock?â Sturmhond asked without turning around, shuffling through his cabin as he pulled on his coat.Â
You cleared your throat. âThat would be because of me, I think.â
Sturmhond turned around at the sound of your voice, his eyes widening as he took you in. âI donât believe it. Good evening, Princess. I do hope you are well. Tamar and Tolya have treated you kindly, I expect?â
You shrunk under his gaze, letting out a nervous chuckle. âIs my title that easy to spot? Youâre the second to figure it out, is it something Iâm doing?â
âTamar has a keen eye,â Sturmond shrugged, grinning. âBut youâre also wearing an evening gown fit for court, and the jewels around your neck could buy a small country. Those things arenât exactly subtle, darling. Even with that cloak.â
You nodded, still nervous but relaxing with his calm demeanor. âI was told you could grant me passage away from the palace? I can pay, I donât expect you to do this out of the kindness of your heart. But seeing as weâve already left the harbor, I donât think you have any other option but to take me with you. Unless you intend on throwing me overboard into the bay, although Iâll thank you kindly not to do that.â
âIn that dress? Youâd sink to the bottom, darling. Thereâs no need to worry, Princess. Youâll stay dry on deck, that I can assure you,â he chuckled, motioning for you to sit.Â
âWeâll inform the crew our trip has been extended,â Tamar announced, pulling Tolya behind her to leave the cabin.Â
You sat in the chair on the other side of Sturmhondâs desk, and he sat across from you. He offered you a kind smile, one that surprised you. You had heard plenty about the infamous privateer. You hadnât expected him to be this young and handsome. His reputation matched that of an old tycoon, not of what appeared to be an ex soldier. He looked at you with curiosity, motioning for you to speak.Â
âSo, would you like to explain to me why my ship is sailing back out to sea? Not that Iâm upset or anything, I was dreading my return to Ravka myself. But as I understand it, you were asked to come to Ravka to strengthen a political allianceââ
âAnd how would you know about that?â You interrupted, raising a brow.Â
He smiled, shrugging. âI have my ways. It pays to know lots of things about lots of things. Including which Princesses are being married off to far away royalty.â
âDo you know him?â You asked, your voice a little unstable. âThe Prince, I mean. Nikolai. I could hardly find anyone who knew him, and any knowledge of him was limited. I went into this alliance blind, thanks to my parents and advisors.â
Sturmhondâs grin widened as he nodded. âI do know him, yes. We were briefly acquainted some time ago.â
âAnd?â
âHeâs alright,â Sturmhond laughed, leaning back in his seat. âDashingly handsome. A bit cocky for my taste, perhaps a little spoiled, but what royalty isnât, right? No offense.â
You smiled, shaking your head. âNone taken.â
âI suppose youâre lucky in that youâre set to marry him, and not the Crown Prince. Vasily isâhow should I put thisâwellâŠâ
âA bastard?â You finished, making Sturmhond chuckle, nodding.Â
âHe is, yes. Nikolai is, in another manner of speaking, the same as well. Is that why youâre running? You donât want to risk your reputation on a second son who may not even be the second son?â
Sturmhond looked at you through curious eyes, although there was a little apprehension in them. A little vulnerability that you didnât quite know what to make of. You shook your head, inadvertently easing his thoughts.Â
âItâs just rumors, Sturmhond. Whether there is any truth to them, I donât know, and I donât care. History records names, not blood. A true Lantsov or not, it doesnât matter to me. Itâs not Nikolaiâs fault who his true parents are, and he shouldnât have to bear the consequences of their actions. All that matters to my parents is what he means for my country. His reputation doesnât affect that.â
âAnd what matters to you?â Sturmhond asked, his eyes softening. âYour secrets are safe with me, and I promise to not throw you overboard for whatever your answers are. Why are you running, Princess?â
You sat in silence for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. Sturmhond politely waisted for you to start, nodding encouragingly for you to speak.Â
You fiddled with your hands in your lap nervously. âNikolaiâs blood doesnât matter to me, truly. All that really matters is that he has a kind heart, and he makes living at Ravkan court for the rest of my life more bearable.âÂ
Sturmhond nodded as he listened intently. You continued.
âFrom what I hear, heâs a perfectly good man. Compared to my list of options, he was probably the best I could have hoped for.â
âWas? Or is? Do you intend on running forever? Seems like a waste of time in what is already a fleeting existence, Princess,â he said quietly.Â
âI know,â you nodded, growing frustrated. âI donât know why I did it. I just thought about being alone at court for the rest of my life, and even the promise of a semi decent Prince wasnât enough to ease my fears. I just wanted control over my own life for once, you know? My own freedom. It was a rash decision, I admit. But it seems to be working well in my favor so far.â
Sturmhond nodded, standing up from his desk to pour two glasses of whiskey. You downed yours the second he placed it in front of you, deciding it was better to let the second one sit when he refilled your glass.
âAnd Nikolai? What are his thoughts on the matter?â
You shrugged, fiddling with the glass. âI donât know. He hasnât been at court since I arrived. I have yet to meet him. Although, once he hears of me running, Iâm sure any first impressions he could have had of me are ruined.â
âI donât know about that.â
You raised a brow, coaxing him to continue. âReally? Why is that?â
âFrom what I hear, Nikolai isnât really one for court, either,â he started, shrugging. âHe runs when he gets the chance, too. Why do you think heâs away from court so often?â
You pondered the thought for a minute. âI donât know. I always assumed his duties took him elsewhere. Heâs not the Crown Prince, so he doesnât need to remain in the palace. He serves in the First Army, doesnât he?â
Sturmhond nodded, grinning. âHe does. Or, to put it more accurately, he did. I think he just loiters around neighboring countries until his Mother forces him to come home and make an appearance now.â
You chuckled, letting out a deep sigh. âIsnât that a treat? Coming home for the first time in months, only to find out your bride to be has run away.â
âWith a face like that, I doubt heâll care much about anything once he sees you.âÂ
You felt the heat creep to your cheeks at his words, setting your eyes to your lap to avoid Sturmhondâs heavy gaze. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he breathed out a laugh.Â
âBesides, Iâm told the Prince isnât expected back at court for a few more days. Plenty of time for you to decide whether or not you want me to turn this ship around. Who would I be to deny a Princess?â
You smiled, your voice soft. âAnd if I donât want to turn around?â
âWell, youâre paying me. I donât really care either way, Iâll take you anywhere you want to go,â he said, grinning as he topped your glass off. âBut just between you and me, Iâd do it for free. Anything for a pretty face like that. Just donât go telling everyone I said that, I have a reputation to maintain.â
You laughed, nodding. âDonât worry. Your secret is safe with me.â
â
You spent the next few days on the ship, feeling more and more at ease the further you made it from Ravkan shores.Â
At night, you longed for home.Â
Not for you parents, or any of their advisors. But for your own bedânot on a constantly rocking shipâand the familiar trill of the birds outside your window on dewy mornings. For the library in the East Wing people seemed to forget was even there, and the soup the cooks would make when a chill was in the air. For the gardens midmorning where you could escape to when you wanted to avoid all the guards constantly watching you.Â
Sturmhond did a good job at keeping you distracted from saddening thoughts, though. It was sweet of him, really. Making sure you had someone with you during the day, taking all his meals with you in the evening.Â
Your time on the ship was the most relaxed you had been in a long time, actually, which you attributed to him.Â
Sturmhond had quite the representation amongst high societyâor any society, reallyâand he certainly met your expectations. He was charming, and attractive. Clever and ambitious, like everyone said he was.Â
You hadnât expected him to be as attentive as he is, however. He seemed to really enjoy a new guest on the ship, one that could keep up with his banter. He didnât make you feel like a burden like your parents so often did, actually including you in his daily routine.Â
Tolya and Tamar were great, too. Kind, and funny. Fiercely loyal and protective, both of their captain and of each other. They were the kind of friends you hoped to make during your time in Ravka.Â
So far, it was off to a good start.Â
As the days moved on, you found yourself growing closer to Sturmhond. You tried to stop yourself in the beginning. Despite not wanting it for yourself, you were engaged to Nikolai. Falling for another man wasnât exactly a good thing for your future
But that damned smile.
His ridiculously attractive smile, and his stupid mop of hair that had only gotten longer from his time at sea. The infuriating way heâd look at you and make you want to shrink away from his gaze, but you could never bring yourself to look away. The obnoxious green emerald ring he wore that could probably buy a small village.
He had charmed you, despite your reservations, and you were practically head over heels. It scared the absolute shit out of you.Â
Tamar had of course noticed already, confronting you about it one night after dinner. She joined you on deck, sitting next to you on a crate as you watched the stars twinkle in the sky. They were so visible out at sea, away from all the lights and clutter of the cities.Â
âYouâre not hiding anything from me, you know,â she smirked, sneaking your flask away to take a few sips from it.Â
You feigned innocence, shaking your head. âI donât know what youâre talking about, Tamar.â
âCome on, darling. Letâs skip the bluffingâŠyou like him. Itâs so obvious.â
âSaints, I hope not,â you groaned, scrunching your nose up at the thought of Sturmhond finding out.Â
Tamar grinned at your embarrassment, chuckling. âDonât worry. I may not swing that way, but I know the look when I see it. Heâs all puppy dog eyes and desperate looks of longing when he sees you. Itâs gross, really. I can actually hear his heart skip a beat when he sees you. He likes you, too. Iâd stake money on it.â
You swallowed down your excitement, trying to think rationally. âDonât even joke about that, itâs not funny.â
âIâm serious! Youâre a catch, Princess. He may be my captain, but heâd be a fool not to want you.â
âThatâs sweet of you to say, but we can stop there,â you nervously chuckled. âWe donât need this going to my head. Iâll do something stupid like staying on this boat forever.â
She grinned, nudging your shoulder with hers. âWould that be so bad?â
â
The next few days, you couldnât get Tamarâs words out of your head. You went on with your routine with Sturmhond as usual, trying not to put much thought into it.Â
Your feelings for him were true, thatâs for sure.Â
And when youâd catch him looking at you from across the deck, youâd swear by the look in his eye that he felt something for you, too. What it was, exactly, you didnât know.Â
But it was something.Â
On your last evening before you had to make a decision about where you wanted to go, you skipped dinner. You couldnât bring yourself to go along with your usual banter with Sturmhond, beginning to feel guilty about just how close and comfortable youâd gotten with him.Â
You still had a duty to your country and your family, which meant at least a little to you. Plus, it wasnât fair to make a promise to Prince Nikolai, only to leave him hanging when he returned to Ravka.Â
You were leaning against the deck railing, watching the way the moonlight bounced over the still waters. So lost in thought, you almost didnât register Sturmhondâs approaching footsteps.Â
âA bit chilly for stargazing, isnât it?â He asked, coming to stand next to you.Â
You turned to see him, smiling when you noticed he was wearing his signature blue coat. You couldnât remember a time since you met that he wasnât dressed to the nines, no matter what time of day it was.Â
âYou know, for a pirate, you donât really look like one.âÂ
He grinned, gently correcting you. âA privateer, darling, not a pirate. Thereâs a difference, I assure you.â
âAh, a privateer. How could I have forgotten?â You chuckled, hugging yourself in an effort to shield your arms from the biting cold. âBut seriously. The emerald on your finger is the size of a walnut, and that coat is fit for royalty. I find it hard to believe a privateer does well enough to afford things as nice as those.â
âMaybe Iâm just good at my job,â he retorted, that signature smirk on his face.
It was enough to stir butterflies in your stomach, making you turn to look back out at the water. His gaze lingered on you a moment, and you could feel the heat creeping up to your cheeks under the weight of his stare.Â
âYouâre cold,â he observed, breaking the silence.
âIâm fine,â you tried to say, but Sturmhond interrupted you.
âI can practically hear your teeth chattering,â he laughed, shrugging his coat from his shoulders. âHere. Seeing as my coat is fit for royalty, as you say, I think itâll suit you better.â
âSturmhondââ
âPrincess,â he mirrored, smirking when you relented, letting him place it around your shoulders.Â
âThank you,â you said softly.
You turned away from the water to face him, leaning back against the bannister. His eyes flitted up and down your form at his coat wrapped around shoulders, before his eyes met yours. He took a seat on the crate behind him, leaning back and settling into the post next to him. It was quiet a moment before he finally spoke.
âYou werenât in your cabin at dinner. Where have you been?â
You sighed, fiddling with the sleeve of his coat. âThinking.â
âThinking? About what?â
âAbout my future,â you said shakily, shoulders slumping. âBoth the imminent one, and the one to follow based on what I decide tonight.â
Sturmhond nodded, seemingly lost in thought. âIâve been thinking about that, too, if Iâm being honest.â
You raised a brow at his words. Heâd been thinking about your future? Heâd been thinking about you? The thought was both intriguing and terrifying, and you hoped the confusion on your face wasnât too apparent.
âWell, IâŠIâm sorry, what?â
âYour future directly impacts me,â he quickly corrected, suddenly steeling his face and meeting your confusion with his usual grin. âWhere you go I go, remember? You are paying me, after all.â
You tried to hide your disappointment, forcing a smile. It was a foolish hope to have, that heâd think something more of you. But it wasnât a hope you were ready to give up.Â
Not just yet, at least.Â
He seemed to notice your disappointment, brows furrowing. âHave I upset you?â
âNo,â you quickly replied, trying to brush it off with a laugh. âNo, itâs not you. Iâm just not quite sure what I should do. I know you need an answer, and Ravka needs an answer, butâŠI donât have one yet.â
âWhy?âÂ
You shook your head, sighing in frustration. âEarlier, I had more than halfway made up my mind. I value my freedom, but I think I value my dignity more. I donât think I could go anywhere and face anyone, knowing Iâve turned my back on my duties. It may have not been a promise I made for myself personally, but it is a promise I had every intention of keeping.â
âThen whatâs stopping you?â He asked, a genuine look of concern on his face.
His eyes softened on you as your face fell, and you turned away from him as you felt heat creep up to your cheeks. You could hear him stand and approach you, but you couldnât bring yourself to look at him.Â
âPrincess?â He asked, only worsening your embarrassment.Â
He spoke again, finally getting you to acknowledge him. âYouâre worrying me, darling. Surely it cannot be that bad.â
âBut it is,â you groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stave off the tears you could feel brewing.Â
âTry me,â he said gently, carefully placing a hand on your arm. âYou can tell me the truth. Whatâs stopping you from returning to Ravka?â
You could feel his touch even through the coat, which struck you like a punch to the gut when you remembered it was, in fact, his coat you were wearing. And to make it worse, that damned grin was on his face as he spoke with such a genuine kindness in his voice that it made you want to cry.Â
You finally met his eyes, taking a sharp breath. Shit, you thought to yourself. You were really going to admit it. He eagerly awaited your response, which you finally managed to utter.Â
âYou.â
He sucked in a breath, withdrawing his hand. He looked up at the sky for a moment, before taking another breath and turning back to you.Â
âMe?â He asked.Â
âYou,â you said again, exasperatedly laughing. âYou, and your ridiculous clothes, and your infuriating charm, and your kindness and ambitionâŠthat damned smile.âÂ
Sturmhondâs cheeks flushed, and he took a step back, although he was grinning like a fool. He couldnât stop himself if he tried. You didnât dare speak, waiting for him to say something. After an agonizing moment of silence, he leaned against the bannister, letting out a chuckle.
âWhat?â You forced yourself to ask, preparing yourself for his answer.Â
âSaints, PrincessâŠyouâve gone and done it now.â
You shook your head, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. âWhat?â
âYouâve managed to outdo me. On my own ship. Quite the feat, Iâll give you that,â he laughed, still grinning.Â
You narrowed your eyes, still shaking your head. âSturmhond, I donât have a fucking clue what youâre saying to me right now. Will you do the honor of enlightening me, or are you going to stand there grinning at me all night?â
âYou like my grin,â he mused, making you flush.
He spoke again, saving you from your embarrassment. âAnd it just so happens that I like yours, too. I like all of you. Very much so indeed, Princess.â
Your heart lurched into your throat at his words, and you had to grab ahold of the bannister behind you to keep yourself steady. He placed his hand over top of yours, his palm warming yours.Â
âI cannot believe you beat me to the punch. Itâs rude to upstage a captain on his own ship. Youâre lucky youâre royalty. Iâll allow it just this once.â
You had just now calmed your breathing, beginning to take in the weight of his words, and what it meant for you both. âSturmhond, Iââ
âI have a confession to make,â he suddenly said in a very serious tone, startling you. âI donât mean to interrupt you, but I must tell you something before either of us share something we canât take back.â
âAlrightâŠâ You said uneasily.Â
Carefully, he took your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. You let him hold it, waiting for him to speak. Absentmindedly, you comfortingly ran your thumb along the back of his hand, silently reassuring him.Â
âMy name isnât Sturmhond,â he finally said, the nerves in his voice the worst you had ever heard them.Â
Trying not to jump to any hasty conclusions, you nodded, squeezing his hand once more. âAlrightâŠif it isnât Sturmhond, then what is it?â
âWell, technically it is, but it also isnât. Itâs just a nicknameââ He rambled, and you placed your other hand on top of his to stop him.Â
âI gathered that much. What else are you trying to tell me? Go on, you can say it.â
He took a deep breath, his voice soft. âItâs true that people call me Sturmhond, but Iâm much better known for my birth nameâŠNikolai. Nikolai Lantsov.â
The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. You tried not to flinch in his grasp, but you knew he could feel you stiffen. You cleared your throat, feeling your voice begin to grow hoarse
âNikolai LantsovâŠas in Prince Nikolai Lantsov, second son of the Ravkan throne? Moi tsarevich,â you croaked out, attempting to curtsy.Â
âPlease,â Nikolai said, holding both your hands in his to keep you from bowing. âThere is no need for such formalities, darling. If anything, I should be the one bowing to you.â
You stood up straight, shaking your head. âWeâre long past that, donât you think?âÂ
He chuckled, nodding. âI suppose so.â
The reality of your situation began to set in, and you couldnât stop yourself from chuckling along with him. He smiled at the sound, raising a brow.Â
âWhat is it?â
âI suppose my little dilemma is solved then,â you said, shrugging. âI was beginning to spiral, thinking my annoying habit of not being able to contain my feelings had ruined any decision I could have made. But of courseâin your usual fashionâyouâve managed to upstage me. As is your right, it is your ship, after all. Well, I suppose thereâs no decision to make now. At least, I think there isnâtâŠright?â
Any nerves you had mustered up were immediately squashed when Nikolai brought his hands up to cup your face, running his thumbs across the tops of your cheeks.
âI wasnât lying when I said Iâd take you wherever you wanted to go. All I can hope now is that youâll allow me to join youâŠwherever that is.â
You brought a hand up to rest against his wrist. âDonât you want to go home? Youâre expected back in Ravka any day now.â
âI love my country, but Iâm in no hurry to return. Youâve told me multiple times how dreadful court was for youââ
âThat doesnât matter,â you quickly said, squeezing his wrist.Â
âOf course it does! I cannot ask you to return to a country youâll be miserable in for the rest of your days for a man you barely know.â
âItâs a good thing you arenât asking, then,â you reaffirmed, giving him a smile. âI told you. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. I said that I was afraid I would be all alone at court, and that I was afraid the man I am promised to wouldnât want a life with me.âÂ
âWhat a fool heâd have to be to not want that,â Nikolai joked, making your grin widen.
You continued to reassure him, not convinced that he was believing your words.Â
âYou say that youâll follow me wherever I go. Well, I want to go with you. Wherever that is. And I want you to go home. I may have not known you for long, but Iâve been around you long enough to know that you wonât truly be content if youâre tied to my wishes. And I know youâre too stubborn to admit that, so Iâll tell you my wishes, and I need you to believe me. I wish to be with you. I wish for you to return to wherever feels like home, and I wish for you to take me with you. If thatâs Ravka, then Ravka will be home. Court will become much more bearable with you there. And if it begins to become too much, I know a certain privateer that can whisk us away for a few days.â
He was doing it again. Smiling like an idiot. He seemed to be in disbelief at your words, this being one of the very few times in his life that he couldnât find the right words to say.Â
âI didnât mean to trick you, Princess. I should have told you who I was from the beginning.â
You shook your head. âI donât blame you, Nikolai. If I was given the chance, I wouldnât have told you who I really was, either. At least, not until I knew I could trust you. I would have done the same as you did. Itâs alright.â
âI canât believe my luck,â he grinned, taking your hand. âHow is it that my betrothed managed to stumble upon my ship the very hour I returned to Ravka?â
You shrugged. âI donât know. Iâm not one to believe in fate, and it sounds impossible.â
âNot impossibleâŠimprobable,â he corrected, smirking when you playfully narrowed your eyes up at him.Â
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnât help but smile at your turn of luck. âAre we doing this? Are you going home to Ravka?â
âAre we going home, you mean? I canât be expected to abandon my betrothed when she turns out to be the single most invigorating person Iâve ever met, now can I?â
âYou cannot,â you agreed.
A comfortable moment of silence passed between you both, and you looked down at his hands as you held them in yours. The familiar glint of green on his finger made you chuckle.Â
âI knew it, by the way,â you added, grinning. âThis coat and that ring are far too ridiculous for a privateer. Theyâre fit for royalty. Fit for a Lantsov.â
âAm I to understand that youâre not interested in a Lantsov emerald for your engagement ring?â He asked, smirking when you quickly shook your head.
You laughed, pulling his hand closer to inspect his ring. âI said nothing of the sort. I was merely observing how ridiculous it is, as well as this coat. But Iâm still wearing it, arenât I? If Iâm going to be married to a ridiculous man, I should begin preparing now, shouldnât I?â
He narrowed his eyes, playfully jutting his chin up at you. âYou just like the coat and want to keep it. Itâs alright, darling, you can admit it. We can have your own fitted for you, all you have to do is ask.â
Nikolai gripped the hem of your sleeve, tugging you closer by the arm of his coat. You let him pull you, chuckling nervously when he drew you nearer.Â
âI admit nothing, only that my future husband has a taste I will have to acquire. But Iâm sure Iâm up for the task. We have all the time in the world now, donât we?â
âWe do,â he smiled, settling his hands around your waist. âAlthough Iâll have to admit, I donât think we know each other well enough to become husband and wife.â
You tensed under his hold, and he quickly retracted his statement, shaking his head. He didnât give you enough time to truly panic, interrupting your train of thought.Â
âAnd thatâs perfectly fine, darling. Like you said, we have all the time in the world to get to know each other. I think Iâd like to take advantage of that starting now. After all, it is our last night on the ship, isnât it? At least, I assume it is. I expect youâll want to set a course for Ravka now. Unless youâd rather I get down on one knee, and make a big show of it first. I can do that, if you wish.â
âI certainly wouldnât stop you,â you chuckled, letting your hands rest on top of his as your tone shifted to a more serious note. âAre we really doing this, Nikolai? Returning to Ravka? Getting married?â
He smiled wider, a twinkle in his eye as he looked down at you. âIâve wanted you since the moment you stepped foot on my ship, the second I laid eyes on you. And Iâve wanted you more every day since. Iâm not one to believe in fate either, but I do think the Saints may have gifted you to me. Who knows what I did to deserve it, but you most definitely wonât find me questioning their will if youâre the result.â
You felt your heart swell at his words. He was right. Of all the ships in the harbor, his was the one you found yourself on. Of all the captains in Ravka, he was the one who took you in. The man you were supposed to marry, and you found yourself falling for him long before you even knew who he truly was. If that isnât fate, then what is?
âIâll take all the influence from the Saints I can get when it comes to explaining to your parents why Iâve disappeared right out from under them,â you said with a groan, leaning into him.Â
Nikolai chuckled, holding you close. âMy Mother will forget all about it when she sees my future safely secured with marriage. There is no need to worry, trust me.â
âI may not have to worry about her, but I do need to worry about Tamar,â you said, letting out a pained chuckle. âI think she staked money on our little situation.â
âShe most definitely did. I expect Tolya will be paying up when they hear the news. Who should break it to him?â
You grinned, shaking your head. âI think that duty lies with you, as my future husband. If Iâm going to have to listen to Tamarâs endless bragging about being right, then you should have to take half the burden in the form of telling Tolya. Thatâs how marriage works, isnât it? Half and half. Itâs only fair.â
It was his turn to groan now as he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, taking yours in the other.Â
âAlright, Iâll do it, but you have to accompany me. I think your presence will help soften the blow. What do you say, darling? After allâŠitâs only fair.â
You narrowed your eyes at him, squeezing his hand. âIf I must. Youâre lucky youâre pretty, Lantsov.â
âDarling, Iâm lucky for a lot more than that,â he smiled endearingly, and you couldnât help but smile back.
â A/N - Hi! This is SO long, Iâm so sorry. And Iâm so sorry for taking so long to get this out, Iâve been busy and had no time to write. But I finally forced myself to get this done, and now I have more time to write! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, let me know what you think! Thank you again for the requests :)
Tsu'tey and my OC Ayluna đ
He always looks after her, coz the TsahĂk told him to do so! After long time spending together, taking care of her and teaching her, how to life on pandora, he starts to fall for her.
I think, he only realises this, after the fear of losing her kicks in. When he starts to be over protective. Being afraid something happenes to her.
In this artwork I thought about, that he realised her beauty for the first time and his heart jumped a big. His body moved at his own, he goes into the water and pulled Ayluna in his arms. Keep her close, after the fear of maybe losing her one time too kicks in. Disclaimer : Ayluna is an Avatar but she is consciousness like Jake, she doesn't has a controller. She is 50% Human and 50% na'vi DNA she is NOT an albino
JDAHFSDHFEGHF I LOVE THIS IS LITERALLY THE CUTEST THING EVER
okay so this is a request (bare with me iâve never done this) BUT
so imagine itâs the final battle from the first movie and tsuâtey is shot but navi!reader happens to be in the woods because she wanted to be helpful to the clan and stumbles upon tsuâtey and helps heal him but he passes out before he can get her name but like love at first sight type beat
so fast forward he is healed and walking around the clan and he tells jake and neytiri about her but they donât know who he is talking about and BOOM just one day he sees reader and like falls inlove with her even more because she is so helpful with the clan and moâat loves reader (sorry if this is too long iâve never done this and iâve just been thinking about this for ages)
hi my love! thank you so much for the request; i absolutely loved this idea!! i had to change a couple of details; i hope you enjoy xx
pairing: tsuâtey x fem naâvi reader warnings: angst, fluff, detailed injury, blood word count: 1.2k
tsu'tey lay on the forest floor as he groaned out in agony, looking down at his extensive wounds. dread began to set in as he realised he was alone; and if he did not get medical attention right away, he wouldn't make it. he tried to slow his rapid breathing as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the pain.
'okay⊠okayâŠ' he muttered to himself as he tried to reposition himself; causing him to scream out in pain. after what felt like an eternity, he managed to position himself up against a rock. he never thought he would be afraid of death, but his instincts began to kick in as the severity of the situation drowned him. he spat at the ground as he watched his crimson blood soak into the dirt; his vision beginning to falter. but suddenly, he heard footsteps running towards him over the slight ringing in his ears.
seeing the olo'eyktan in such a state made your heart sink; you had always admired tsu'tey from the shadows. he was extremely strong willed and fierce, and you had always felt safe knowing he was the one leading your clans warriors.
you were suddenly extremely thankful that you had ignored mo'ats orders to stay put. you couldn't just sit by and do nothing while others were out there risking their lives, so you decided to stay close by and aid those who were injured.
you desperately kneeled by tsu'tey as you pulled out your supplies from your pouch; immediately getting to work on fixing up his wounds. even in his dazed state, his eyes widened as his eyes adjusted; his gaze falling on your beautiful face.
then, he realised that he did not know who you were.
he had tried to make it an obligation to know everyone from the clan; and yet he somehow missed you. he had no idea how he could have done such a thing. your beauty mesmerised him. it distracted him from the pain; put him at peace. you placed a healing paste on him as you closed your eyes, pleading to eywa for her assistance in his recovery. your voice was like silk; soft.
'âŠgreat mother, heal tsu'teyâŠ' you pleaded. tsu'teys heart fluttered at hearing you speak his name; it rolled off your tongue as if it were meant to be spoken from your lips. with what little strength he had left, he reached his hand to hold yours; looking into your honey eyes.
't- thank yâŠyou.' he spluttered as you felt your heart skip a beat. his eyes were beautiful; they looked right into your soul. but, they soon began to grow drowsy. 'your⊠y-your⊠nameâŠ' he trailed off as his body betrayed him. as a defence to preserve his energy, tsu'tey passed out against the rock; his hand still holding yours.
it had been a couple of weeks since you had saved tsu'teys life; and you had gone back to being invisible; hiding in the shadows. but, tsu'tey hadn't forgotten. your image was engraved into his mind and he spent every single day searching for you amongst all the other faces.
tsu'tey was sat by the fire of the hometree with jake and neytiri as jake sat back on his elbows.
'are you sure this girl even exists?' jake teased. tsu'tey shook his head in annoyance as he began to grow frustrated. if it wasn't for his healed wounds, he would have actually considered that you may have been an angel that was sent to deliver him to eywa.
'perhaps she is of another clan?' neytiri suggested but tsu'tey shook his head.
'no, she is omatikaya.' he persisted as he groaned. 'i know it.' tsu'tey instinctively glanced toward the entrance of the hometree as something caught his eye. there, floating through the air of the hometree was an atokirina; a woodsprite. tsu'tey followed the spirit with bewildered eyes as it twirled in the air and floated towards the edge of the structure.
'what theâŠ' jake trailed off as he and neytiri also took notice of the seed.
you were stood on the other side of the hometree, talking to se'vi about your day; but she soon lost interest in anything you were saying as her gaze shifted above you. you furrowed your brows as you looked up; wonderment quickly taking over your senses as the beautiful spirit floated above you. you looked back in awe as you instinctively held out a hand; and the seed took refuge in your palm. you blinked back in shock as you looked towards the spirit; other clan members beginning to gawk at you in astonishment. you turned your head around, noticing all the faces staring at you; and you began to feel extremely nervous. you were used to being invisible and yet here you were with an atokirina in the palm of your hand; as if eywa wanted you to be seen.
tsu'tey felt his heart skip a beat as you looked around the room; your heavenly form sending goosebumps down his entire body.
'that's her.' tsu'tey whispered as jake and neytiri looked at one another; sharing a knowing look.
eywa was trying to bring the two of you together.
'go!' neytiri encouraged as tsu'tey scrambled to his feet. he made his way over to you; his eyes never leaving you; afraid you may vanish into thin air if he looked away for even a second.
you noticed him making his way over to you as you suddenly felt extremely small under his gaze. maybe he was angry at you for vanishing after you had healed him; maybe he was angry at you for helping him at all. you turned to se'vi as she looked at you with a wide grin; you had told her all about what had happened that day, and she was convinced that eywa had a plan for the two of you.
after what felt like an eternity, tsu'tey stood in front of you; looking down at you with adoration in his eyes. the atokirina flew up from your palm; dancing between the two of you for a moment before it disappeared from the hometree as quickly as it had appeared. you gulped hard at the sight of tsu'tey standing in front of you; intimidated by his authoritative demeanour. but, you noticed a glint of something in his eye.
'you saved me.' he whispered as you relaxed slightly. his tone was thankful and soft. you nodded with a smile as you bowed your head towards him in an act of respect.
'i did.' you spoke; your voice much smaller than you had intended. tsu'tey reached for your hands; holding them in one of his own as he brought them close to his chest. a deep blush formed on your face as your body began to feel warm; your insides beginning to flutter.
'i'm tsu'tey.' he introduced himself. even though it was clear that you knew exactly who he was, the introduction felt personal. he wasn't introducing himself as tsu'tey the olo'eyktan; or as tsu'tey the warrior. he was introducing himself as tsu'tey. a gentle smile tugged at his lips as he felt a warm feeling in his heart. 'what is your name?'
tags: @theseuscmander @fanboyluvr @neteyamslovrr @live-laugh-neteyam @darkacademictrashâ @sweetdayme4427â @callmeoncette @icarusthefoolishâ @neteyamsblogâ @avtprintââ @taymaddie @s-surreality @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @daeneeryss @sakura-onesan @mechformers @sharkybabe9 @floralifetime @singular-itae @nilrilie @elegantkidfansoul @seashelldom @nnobodyiss @yaya6765 @dani111 @eternallyvenus @bothofm @slasherblog @ikranwings @neteyamyawne @tsuteyss
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BROOO THIS SERIES IS SO GOOD DAYUM
Sequel to Web of Secrets
Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader
words: 5.2K
warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut, time jumps, not really comic accurate (canon events), semi public piv, 18+
Part I Part II Part III (coming soon)
You are all back at the Spider-Verse Headquarters and the atmosphere is tense. Everyone is still high on adrenaline from the mission. Youâre nursing a deep gash on your arm but your spirit is far from broken.
Miguel, however, seems to be on the verge of an explosion.
âWHAT THE HELL WAS THAT OUT THERE SPIDER SUN?â he bursts out, his voice echoing through the HQ.
You're taken aback. âWhat do you mean?â
âThat reckless behavior! You could have been killed!â he roars. âWhy didnât you retreat when you were injured?!â
âBecause there were lives at stake! I can handle myself, Miguel!â you shout back.
âYou think this is a game?! You think being part of this team is just for kicks?â Miguelâs face is red, his voice strained.
âDonât you dare! Donât you dare question my dedication!â you yell, your own anger now matching his.
The team is watching, shifting uncomfortably. Gwen looks at Jess, who shakes her head. The room is thick with tension.
Alright, if you are being honest with yourself, your recent actions in the field could definitely be classified as reckless. Perhaps even bordering on idiotic - not that youâd ever confess that in front of Miguel. You didnât know where your mind went. Wait, no, scratch that. You knew precisely where your thoughts were, every mission since you discovered your pregnancy has been like this; your spider senses dulled, focus scattered to the wind, and reflexes that wouldâve made a sloth proud.
And then there was this mission â your first one in quite a while alongside Miguel. He was bound to notice.
So you were fighting an Electro variant from an alternate universe, alongside Jess, Gwen, Ben and Miguel. The electric villain was throwing bolts of energy left and right and everyone was giving their all. You noticed a civilian trapped under some debris. You made a beeline for them, not thinking about anything else.
As you lifted the debris, an energy bolt flew straight for you. Usually, your Spider-Senses would have alerted you but not today. It hit you square in the back and sent you flying.
You hit a wall but ignored the pain as you scrambled back to your feet. A sharp ache spread across your arm but you gritted your teeth and kept fighting.
Miguel yelled, âWhat the hell are you doing?! Fall back!â
But you didnât, you kept pushing forward.
He landed next to you, his eyes filled with anger and something else, maybe a hint of worry. He grabbed your waist to pull you back. But as another energy bolt was coming your way, you shoved him out of the path, taking the hit for the second time. So yeah, you could say that this mission wasn't exactly the shining star in your superhero career.
âERES ESTĂPIDO! So damn stupid. I wonât fucking watch someone throw their life away recklessly!â Miguel was now yelling loudly in oyur face for everyone in the HQ to hear.
âOh, please. Whatâs it to you? Since when do you care, Miguel?!â you shout back, finally having enough of his insufferable attitude. âAll this time, youâve treated me like Iâm dispensable. Like I don't matter! Well, guess what? I can fight, I can make decisions, and I donât need you to approve them!â
âDonât!â Miguel's voice cracks, and for a brief second, thereâs a look of hurt on his face that surprises you. But his rage quickly replaces it. âI cannot do this anymore with you, Âżme entiendes?â he yells.
The room falls silent. Everyoneâs gazes dart between you and Miguel. You can feel Gwenâs worried eyes on you, and Ben Riley. looks like he wants to intervene, but this moment is too charged.
You take a deep breath, tears welling up. âI can't do this anymore either,â you whisper.
âWhat?â Miguel's voice is barely audible.
âI can't keep fighting for a team where Iâm not respected or trusted. Where you treat me constantly like a liability, like I am worth nothing to you,â you say, your voice steadier now.
âYou donât know what you are saying,â Miguel says, his tone slightly softening.
You turn around, your eyes welling up once again and open a portal to your universe. âI do, I quitâ you say, your voice breaking.
You reach into your pocket and pull out your transdimensional gizmo, the small device that every Spider-person uses to travel across the multiverse. It's an intricate piece of technology, a blend of science and magic that fits in the palm of your hand.
You toss the device on the table in front of Miguel. It skids across the surface before coming to a stop right in front of him. He looks from the gizmo to you, his expression unreadable.
"Take it. We donât need it anymore." You say defiantly, meeting his gaze.
Everyone knows the implication of you returning the gizmo. Without it, you're effectively stranded in your universe, unable to return to the society. This isn't a decision made lightly, it's a point of no return.
As you step through the portal, you glance back one last time. You see Miguelâs face, contorted in pain, but he doesnât move, he doesnât speak and he doesn't stop you.
Your heart is breaking, but you canât stay here. Not when itâs this painful.
You turn away and head toward the portal room, with one hand lightly grazing your tummy. Gwen calls your name, but you donât stop.
In the dim light of the room, the world seems to fade away as you lie there with Miguel on top of you. You are under him, breathless, your fingers running through his hair. His body pins you down in a tender, electrifying way, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart beating against yours.
His fangs graze the curve of your neck lightly, eliciting a shiver that runs through you. In response, he nuzzles into you, his breath warm against your skin.
"Ever think about what we're doing?" he asks in a whisper that vibrates against your neck.
"Constantly," you respond, your fingers tracing the curve of his broad shoulders, "but I donât regret it, not a moment.â
He lifts his head, his red orbs searching yours. âNeither do I,â he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hand reaches up to trace the contour of your face.
"You know," you whisper, your hands continuing caressing his back, "I always wondered what it was like in your universe, in your time."
He shifts a little, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at you. His eyes, usually as unreadable, now seem to crack open; emotions swirl within them like stars.
"It was great, you know," his voice is gentle, each word enveloping you. "No, more than that â it was perfect," he corrects himself. His eyes never leave yours as he continues, "I had my Gabriella. Ah, you would have adored her." His voice softens to a mere whisper as if speaking her name too loudly might shatter the memory. "She was this incredible burst of life just like you. My own little sunshine. I didnât know my heart could hold so much until she came into my life."
"The way she would throw her head back and laugh, it was like music. Her tiny hands â so soft and gentle. I remember how one of them always found mine, and the world felt... right."Â He continued, "I was never alone, never empty." He swallows hard, as if trying to keep the flood of emotions from washing over him.
You cup his cheek gently, smiling up at him. "You don't have to be alone, you know?"
He lets out a dry chuckle. âSometimes it feels like there's no other option. Itâs my fate."
âWhat scares you the most, Miguel?â you suddenly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitates. âTo lose myself⊠to forget what it means to care for someone,â he finally confesses.
âYou wonât,â you assure him, your thumb stroking his cheek. âNot if you donât let yourself.â
âÂży tĂș?â His voice is husky. âWhatâs your biggest fear?â
âTo be forgotten,â you whisper.
He lowers himself and presses his forehead against yours. âImposible,â he breathes. âYouâre the sun. No one forgets the sun.â Â He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until the world outside disappears.
Suddenly, his wrist console beeps, yanking him back to the present. "OâHara, are you okay?" Lyla's voice echoes in the room, breaking the silence. He blinks, his gaze focusing on the holographic screen displaying the mission details in front of him. "Yeah, Lyla," he responds, his voice a bit hoarse. "Just remembered something," he murmurs, and refocuses on the screen before him.
Amidst the sea of codes and numbers, Miguel finds himself struggling to focus. His thoughts still are consumed by you, and a heavy realization crashes down upon him like a tidal wave - heâs lost you forever.
He always knew that this was how it was meant to be. This was the only logical conclusion, the inevitable outcome that he had tried so hard to deny. He was aware of the potential repercussions, the cosmic imbalance that could be brought about by your intertwining fates.Â
Lyla had warned him multiple times, cautioned him against letting you close. But how could he have possibly resisted you? You, who shone brighter than the sun, who captured the hearts of everyone around with your aura and your kind soul. Your beauty was unparalleled, and your laughter had the power to fill a room, casting away shadows. He was a moth drawn to your flame, hopelessly captivated from the very first day he met you.
 But you were never meant to be his story, not the path his life was meant to tread. You belonged to another world, another universe.
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?"Â Lyla breaks the silence with her smooth, computerized voice. âNo,â he interrupts her sharply, his voice a little too forceful.
But Lyla isn't easily deterred. "You know it was dangerous from the beginning, Miguel," Lyla continues. "Engaging with her like that...it could have caused irreparable damage to the multiverse."
"I know," he replies curtly.
Unyielding, Lyla continues, "This was never supposed to be a canon event. Her universe is not meant to mix with yours. It's fortunate that she left when she did. The damage could've beenâ"
âI KNOW!â Miguel suddenly erupts, his voice thundering through the room. He screams, his frustration boiling over, "ÂĄYa lo sĂ©, Lyla! ÂĄBasta ya!" ("I already know, Lyla! Enough already!") With a loud grunt, he sweeps his arm across his desk, sending his keyboard, mug, and various other items crashing to the ground.
There is a deafening silence as Miguel breathes heavily, his chest heaving. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed and his fangs are bared. He never loses control, not like this.
Lyla, for once, remains silent.
3 months laterâŠ
Back in Nea Yorkey, Earth 586 , you are perched on the rooftop, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. Time has passed since you left Nueva York and Miguel, but your feelings for him are still a tangled mess. Damn these pesky pregnancy hormones.
 For once, itâs pretty calm out there. No honking horns in traffic jams or the usual buzz of people everywhere. Itâs like the city hit the pause button and honestly, itâs kind of nice. The streetlights are like tiny fairy lights all over, and the tall buildings around you feel like theyâre keeping you company.
The cool breeze brushes against your face, and you can't help but be lost in your thoughts. Thoughts of him. The relentless flood of emotions is almost too much to handle.
The flashback hits you hard, placing you right back in Miguel's office late one evening. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your backside planted firmly on his desk amidst strewn cables and metallic pieces and half-empty coffee mugs.
"Miguel, someone will catch us," you had warned, your breath hitching as he nipped at your skin, his hands deftly moving to undo your skintight suit. His hair was a little longer then, the ends tickling your forehead as he kissed you.
He had just chuckled, the sound deep and throaty, making your heart flutter. "They know better than to disturb me," he'd responded confidently, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your jawline.
Usually, Miguel was cautious about showing any sign of affection when others might be around, even if 'around' meant anywhere in the sprawling headquarters of the Spider Society. Yet, that night, he seemed to throw caution to the wind.
In his enclosed office, late into the evening, he let his guard down - a rarity. His lips were insistent against your skin, his touch setting you alight. You remember how the soft glow of the desk lamp had caught in his eyes, making them appear even more mesmerizing.
As he was holding your ass up steady and pounding into you, in a pace and fervor you never experienced before, you hear his communicator ring vibrating. You instinctively attempt to pull away, assuming he would answer the call, but he holds you tighter, his lips never leaving your skin.
His free hand pulls up a holographic screen,which flickered to life above the desk, revealing a slightly pixelated image of Jess. You panic for a moment, worried that she might see you in this intimate moment with Miguel, but he just shook his head slightly, reassuring you that she can't. He must have filtered the video feed on his end.
âYes, Jess?â Miguelâs voice was steady, but his breath ghosted your neck in short spurts. He continued with his action, his thrusts a little slower but deep, nevertheless. You clamp your teeth down onto Miguel's shoulder in a desperate attempt to stifle the moans escaping your throat, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. You can barely contain yourself. Miguel's soft, amused chuckle vibrate through you as he wraps his arms around you protectively. Asshole.
âWeâve got an anomaly on Earth-4067, seems like a temporal rift,â Jess's voice came through the hologram.
âHave you tried the Q-particle stabilizer?â Miguel asks, his voice so casual it's almost disarming. His eyes meet yours, a playful glint in them.
âYeah, but it didnât work. The rift is actually growing,â Jess responds, the worry in her voice increasing. âWhat do you think we should do?â
âAlright, I want you to reconfigure the dimensional frequency to match the rift. Then patch the satellite feed through the Alchemax algorithm, reverse the temporal frequency by 4.7 hertz and use the resonance pulse to stabilize the rift,â Miguel articulates with authority as he continues to pick up his pace. Youâre close to the edge, with the euphoria threatening to make you cry out. The sheer pleasure is now tinged with a faint edge of pain, and a wave of panic crashes over you. The thought of Jess possibly hearing you is nerve-wracking, and youâre now fighting to suppress your screams.
Your breathing becomes erratic as you whisper in a hoarse, needy voice, âMiguel, âm close."
"I know, mami. Come for me," he whispers back, his voice filled with a playful mischief that seems to defy the gravity of the situation. His hot breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine and the wave of pleasure crushes down on you.
âMiguel, are you sure about this? I mean, if something goes wrongâŠâ Jess hesitates.
âIâm sure, Jess.â Thrust. âDo.â Another hard thrust. âit.â Miguelâs voice turns forceful.
âOkay, I trust you. But... are you alright? You sound kinda breathless,â Jess's suspicion returns.
âOh, just...uh...running some diagnostics. Itâs a bit stuffy in here,â Miguel replies with a smirk on his face, his fingers now gently brushing against your bare heated skin.
The rooftop is silent again, and you're still rubbing your belly, where the life you and Miguel created is growing. A bittersweet tear rolls down your cheek as you wish, not for the first time, that things could have been different.
You donât know how long you are sitting there, taking in the city scene. But it was getting dark, when a familiar figure swings onto the rooftop. It's Gwen, carrying a small package in her hand. âGwen? What brings you to Nea Yorkey?â
She walks up to you with a soft smile, "Do I need a reason to visit my favourite Spider-Ma? I've got something for you."
You raise an eyebrow as she hands you the package. As you unwrap it, you find a tiny Spider-Man hat, similar to the one Mayday usually wears. And to your surprise, thereâs a tiny anarchy pin, attached to it.
"From the group," she says softly. She adds, pointing at the pin, "This bit here, thatâs from Hobie." Of course it is.
Youâre moved to tears as you hug the hat close. It's a simple gift, yet it means so much. You feel a lump in your throat, and Gwen steps forward, wrapping you in a warm, comforting hug.
"I...I miss all of you so much," you manage to whisper, your voice choked with emotion.
"We miss you too," Gwen replies, her voice equally soft.
You pull back, wiping your eyes. Gwen tries to lighten the mood, "So, any guesses on the gender? I bet itâs a boy."
You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips, "I don't care what it's going to be. I just want them to be healthy."
Gwen grins, "Just remember, if it is a boy and he turns out to be a handful, you owe me a soda."
You both sit on the edge of the rooftop in a comfortable silence, legs swinging over the city, the conversation turns more serious.
"So," you venture, "how are things back at the Spider Society?"
Gwenâs expression turns contemplative. "It's been... strange since you left," she admits.
"Strange how?" you prod.
"Well, you know how Miguel was always a little on the, uh, grumpy side?" she says, making a grimace.
"You mean being a brooding fortress of doom and gloom?" you quip, and Gwen chuckles.
"Yeah, that. Well, he's gotten worse since you left. Like, way worse," Gwen's face turns somber as she continues. "Heâs even more closed off than before. His temperâs shorter, he barely communicates, and he's been pushing everyone away. Miguelâs basically got everyone on lockdown. No unauthorized visits between universes. Thereâs this... I donât know... this cloud hanging over him, you know?â
Your heart tightens as you take in her words. You had no idea that your departure had such an impact on him, or anyone for that matter.
âHe doesnât talk about it, but I think he misses you,â Gwen adds, looking directly into your eyes.
You are torn. Part of you wants to be angry at Miguel for how things went down, but another part aches for him.
Gwen nudges you. "Maybe he needs his sunshine back," she says with a gentle smile.
You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of Gwenâs words sinking in. âDonât be silly. I was never his sunshine.â
4 months laterâŠ
Beneath the pale glow of hospital lights, pain and joy mingle in the delivery room. The grip you have on the sheets gets tighter as you push to usher your baby into the world. Your hair is sticking to your forehead, your breath comes in heaving gasps, exhaustion painting dark circles under your eyes.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, a portal flickers to life outside your window, and Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie emerge.
âMake way! The party has arrived!â Peter B. exclaims loudly.
âI donât believe in parties.â Hobie says as he struts in, clad in his Spider suit with a leather jacket over it, pins and patches proudly displayed.
Gwen knocks at your door. The midwife, busy with you in the labor, answers.
âUh, who are you?â the midwife asks, slightly agitated.
âWeâre friends of hers,â Peter gestures towards you, âis it a good time?â
You hear their voices, but you cant muster up a response all you can do is scream and push.
âBlimey, I didnât think itâd be like somethinâ outta Alien! You alright there, love?â Hobieâs eyes go wide, as he enters the room.
You can't help but laugh through the pain, "Oh, just peachy, thanks for asking."
Gwen steps forward, immediately grabbing your hand, her voice soothing, âHey, youâre doing great. Is there anything we can do?â
âYou could get Hobie out of here,â you jest, rolling your eyes, but your smile betrays your appreciation. Another loud scream follows.
âYou got this, luv!â Hobie shouts. âJust imagine the bloody contractions as guitar riffs! Youâre about to release the raddest album in history!â
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear the cries of your newborn baby.
âCongratulations, it's a boy!â the nurse announces, handing the baby to to you.
You canât help but laugh. Gwen steps closer to the bed and takes a peek at the baby. Her eyes light up. âTold you, itâs a boy. Heâs absolutely beautiful,â she whispers.
Hobie chimes in. âAlright, letâs get a proper look at the little bloke!â He leans in, and his face softens. "Oh, look at 'im!" Hobie exclaims in his thick British accent, peering at him. "Little blighter's a spitting image of 'is mum, ain't he?â No. You see it then, the dark eyes with a hint of red glow echo the intensity of his father's gaze, the dark chocolate hair and the sun kissed complexion. He looked undeniably just like Miguel. You cant help yourself but fall immediately in love with your and Miguelâs little boy.
As they prepare to leave, Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie each take turns holding Gabriel and whispering well-wishes to him.Â
âI canât thank you guys enough for being here,â you say, wiping away a tear.
Peterâs mask is off and heâs beaming. "We couldn't miss this for the multiverse!"
Gwen follows suit, "Yeah! Plus, Hobie wouldn't let us hear the end of it if we didnât."
âWeâre family,â Peter says firmly. âAcross universes and timelines. Weâre always here for each other.â
With that, the trio put on their masks and with another whoosh, they're gone.
1 year later...
One year has passed like a whirlwind. You've established a balance in your life. By day, you are a doting mother, and your world revolves around a little ball of energy named Gabriel. His laugh is the music that fuels your day, and his tiny hands holding yours make everything seem alright.
At night, though, you become someone else. Clad in a white suit adorned with golden sun patterns, you swing through the skyscrapers of Nea Yorkey as the Sun Spider. Your heart swells with pride, knowing that youâre keeping the streets and your little boy safe.
Your neighbor, Melissa, sometimes babysits Gabriel. She is a cheerful, quirky 16-year-old neighbor who dreams of becoming an Instagram influencer. You trust her (her career choice not so much) and, most importantly, Gabriel adores her.
Up until today, you believed that he hadn't inherited any powers. However, today was the first time he climbed up a wall and spun a web, without the aid of a web-slinger. It was the first time you witnessed him display such powers, and naturally, you were impressed. However, you also realized that being a mom would now involve dealing with a whole new set of challenges and responsibilities, making everyday life more exhausting than before. But you are up for the challenge;
Meanwhile, in the Spider Societyâs HQ in Nueva York, Lylaâs holographic screen blinks red as she detects an anomaly in Earth 586 - your universe. She reports it to Miguel, who is still his grumpy self, seemingly even more irritable with each day passing.
âThereâs a presence in Earth 586 that does not belong,â Lyla reports in her emotionless tone.
Miguel, sitting at his desk, sighs deeply. âAssemble the team. Pavitr, Lego Spider-Man, and... letâs bring in the newbie, Miles.â
Minutes later, the trio is briefed about the anomaly â a two-year-old child. They are to extract the child and bring it back.
Back in your universe, you're facing off against a notorious villain â The Shocker, who is on a rampage downtown. His high-frequency shock waves shake the very foundations of the buildings around you.
âNot tonight, Shocker,â you quip as you dodge a blast. âIâve got a bedtime story to read!â
You're agile and sharp, but you canât wait to get back home to Gabriel.
In your apartment, Melissa is on the couch, engrossed in her phone. She doesn't notice Pavitr slyly slipping into Gabriel's room. He canât help but feel conflicted, seeing the innocent child asleep.
âThis is the target?â Pavitr speaks in a hushed tone into his communicator. His voice is laced with doubt.
âYes, proceed,â responds Miguel firmly.
Pavitr gently picks up Gabriel, cradling him in his arms. âSorry, little guy,â he whispers and slips out.
Outside, they gather near the portal. Miles, who is visibly excited to be on his first mission, can sense the tension among the group.
âThat was⊠too easy,â Pavitr murmurs, still holding the sleeping child.
Through the swirling portal, they make their way back to Nueva York.
Meanwhile, you web up The Shocker and leave him hanging for the police.
Back in the Spider Society's HQ in Nueva York, the team stands in a specialized containment room with the toddler still peacefully sleeping nestled in a makeshift bed of spider-web, completely oblivious to the attention he's attracting. One by one, members of the Spider Society trickle into the room, drawn by curiosity and concern.
Miles, who is new to the Spider Society, looks at the child with confusion. "I don't get it, what's so dangerous about a kid?" he asks.
Pavitr looks conflicted, âWe have to determine where he came from and why he is considered an anomaly.â
Lego Spider-Man remains silent, trying to analyze the situation. He finally speaks up. "We should be cautious. Just because it's a child doesn't mean it's not potentially hazardous to the multiverse."
Miguel enters the room, his face cold and emotionless. He glances at the sleeping child, then at his team. âIt doesnât matter what it is. Anomalies threaten the balance of the multiverse. Every anomaly has to be returned to its home universe. Thatâs the rule.â he says sternly.
"But he's not an anomaly, boss," Jess adds, gazing fondly at the child. "He's a little boy."
Miguelâs gaze is unwavering, ignoring Jess. âLyla? Whats the status?âÂ
Lyla's holographic form flickers into the room. "This entity possesses unknown powers," she declares, her voice ringing out with clinical detachment. "And according to my scans, it doesn't belong to any known universe. Therefore, it cannot be returned. It must be... eliminated."
Miles' eyes widen. âWait, you meanâŠ?â he canât bring himself to finish the sentence.
Pavitr steps forward, his fists clenched. âWe canât just... There must be another way.â
Back in your universe, you swing closer to your apartment, but your spider-sense starts are tingling with a ferocity youâve never experienced before. Your heart races, and you quicken your pace. Bursting through the window, you find Melissa still sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
"Where is he? Whereâs Gabriel?!" you shout, panic straining your voice.
Melissa's eyes go wide as she looks up from her phone. "What? He's in his room, sleeping," she says, but her voice falters when she sees the terror on your face.
You rush into Gabriel's room and find the crib empty. Your knees buckle, and a guttural scream escapes your lips. The room spins as you run back to the living room, grabbing Melissa by the shoulders.
"Did anyone come in? Did you see anything?!" you practically scream at her.
âI... I didnât see anyone. I swear!â Melissa's voice shakes.
Your heart feels like it's tearing apart. You look around the room, desperate for any clue. You need to find your son, and something deep within you tells you that the Spider Society is where you need to go. You have to find a way to travel through the multiverse without a gizmo and the time is ticking. You have to find your son.
Back in the HQ in the midst of the tension-filled room, Gwen stands up, "Miguel, you can't be serious," she pleads, disbelief resonating in her voice. "We can't just... kill a baby.â
Miguel's eyes narrow. "Sometimes tough decisions have to be made for the greater good.â
Just then, little Gabriel wakes up. His big eyes wander curiously around the room, and he starts to make happy babbling sounds. Unfazed by his surroundings, he looks at each of the Spider-People with fascination.
As Peter B. is about to reach down to pick Gabriel up, the toddler crawls quickly over to Miguel. His little face lights up with the purest of smiles and he reaches his tiny arms towards Miguel as if trying to give him a hug.
The room seems to collectively hold its breath. Even Miguel seems taken aback.
Pavitr can't help it, âHe seems to have taken a liking to you, boss.â
Gwen smiles, her eyes watering up. âSee? Even this innocent soul can sense thereâs still good in you.â
Tiny fingers grip at the fabric of Miguel's suit, baby Gabriel coos and giggles as he clambers up the towering figure. Planting tiny baby kisses on any part of Miguel he can reach, the toddler's joyous laughter rings in the silent room. "Vete, Vete." Miguel mutters. And despite Miguel's cold exterior, Gabriel is unphased, drawn to him as though an invisible bond exists between them.
Miguel looks frustrated and uncomfortable with the baby's affection. He awkwardly picks Gabriel up at armâs length. But the little one is relentless, trying to cuddle into Miguelâs chest.
Annoyed, Miguel places Gabriel into a containment field made of energy beams, to keep him in place. The baby, though restrained, is still reaching out to Miguel with his tiny hands, cooing.
The room goes quiet again, and Gwen speaks, her voice soft.
âLook at him, Miguel. Please. You canât tell me that this doesnât affect you in any way.â
Miguel's face is tense, his jaw clenched. His eyes dart between Gwen and Gabriel. All eyes are directed towards Miguel. The room feels like itâs waiting for something to shatter.
âWe do what needs to be done, no exceptions.â
a/n: Honestly, I can't begin to express how much your support and kind messages mean to me. I literally started crying when I saw how much love this story received. It means the world to me. Truly, thank you. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and if someone could give me a heads-up on whether the tag list functioned properly, that would be great. Also, apologies for any inconsistencies or logical errors regarding the multiverse or canon theory. I watched the movie but I'm not 100% sure of that's how it works.
Once again, I really do appreciate each and everyone of you. Please, donât forget to take good care of yourselves and stay hydrated! ILYSM
P.S I still canât reply to your comment but if I missed your tag or you want to be tagged for Part 3 please comment and Iâll add you.
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Metanoia - The journey of changing oneâs mind, heart, self, or way of life.
Ao3
You meet your neighbor You need a favor You go to dinner You have a secret You make a promise You donât like silence You learn the truth You keep your promise You return a favor You need a date You go to tea You meet a ghost
Main Masterlist
©ïžEilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.
WE NEED PART 3!!!!! I LOVE THIS SM GOOD LORDDD
ădaddy issues
part one | part two
đpairing: recom!miles quaritch x human fem reader
đtags: 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, youâre practically walking on air. You may be walking with a slight limp, but still â youâve never been so satisfied in your whole life.Â
Not only have you just had very good sex with the man youâve 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. Youâre 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 werenât quiet about it, either.
Youâve even been able to cover significant ground with your dissertation â thanks to the sample that Quaritch had so generously provided you with, youâve been able to run tests that youâve 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 isnât 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, heâs even come looking for you in the lab. But most often, you find him and he ends up in your quarters â thereâs 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.Â
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; itâs 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, youâre able to delight in sharing skin to skin contact with him as he strokes over your much smaller body. Itâs 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 theyâre sent out into the wilds of Pandora for days or even weeks at a time. Quaritch is an important man, and heâs got a lot on his plate. So for the most part, you only really see him from a distance.Â
And itâs fine, really. Itâs not like you had really expected things to change dramatically between you. He had told you very clearly that he wasnât looking for anything romantic or anything like that; besides, he doesnât exactly strike you as the romantic type.Â
Itâs silly to be disappointed. And yet, you are. Youâre 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 donât want to be pushy or needy â youâre grateful for what heâs giving you, after all, and you donât 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. Itâs 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. Youâd 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 â youâve started to associate that door sliding open with Quaritchâs arrival, and you find your stomach dropping a little in disappointment when you realise that itâs Geiszler rather than the Colonelâs familiar big blue body.
âHey.â 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, youâre 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 hadnât made much of an effort to seek him out either, but usually you didnât 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.
âHi.â You say, blinking stupidly at him.
Geiszler clears his throat and steps around some of the unused desks, approaching you where you sit.Â
âI, uhâŠâ He trails off for a second, before he seems to rally himself. âI thought Iâd check in on you. See how you were doing.â
That throws you, and all you can do is stare at him in bewilderment. âOh. Um⊠Thatâs nice of you. Yeah, Iâm doing good.â
Youâre 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.
âGood. Thatâs good.â Geiszler is nodding. He leans his hip against your desk, but he canât quite seem to meet your eyes. âListen⊠I wanted to apologise.â
That makes you pause, and you squint at him.
âFor what? The dildo thing? You already apologised for that.â
He laughs, but itâs high-pitched and obviously nervous. âRight, yeah. Um⊠it turned out pretty good for you though, I guess. So no harm done, right?â
âOther than my dignity being irreparably damaged?â You ask drily.
âWell,â Geiszlerâs awkward smile melts into a cheeky grin â itâs a look thatâs much more familiar to you than the oddly contrite expression he had been wearing before. âI donât think the dildo did any more damage to your dignity than the fact that everyone could hear you encounter the real thing.â
Your mouth drops open. Itâs not that the words themselves have shocked you (you knew that they had heard, on some level), itâs the fact that Geiszler is bold enough to actually say it to your face after so much awkwardness. Still, you canât help but laugh.
âOkay,â You giggle, returning his grin. âFair enough.â
Geiszlerâs whole face seems to relax at that, as though heâs impossibly relieved that youâre 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. Heâs a little closer than usual, but you donât pay him much mind. Itâs a bit of a relief, actually â you donât have any real friends, and most of the science guys donât take you seriously at all. Itâs nice to have someone to talk to, even if he is a bit of a dick.
âAm I forgiven?â He asks, his eyebrows raising hopefully. âFriends again?â
You roll your eyes, but youâve softened already. You canât even be all that annoyed considering that his stupid stunt had ended up with you getting dicked down by the finest man youâve ever met in your whole life. Besides, friends are in short supply here â you donât want to alienate the only one you actually have.
âYeah.â You grumble, though your mouth is quirked up in a little grin. âFine. Friends.â
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.
âSo,â He says in a would-be casual tone. âYou and Quaritch, huh?â
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.
âHm?â You ask, trying to pretend like you hadnât heard him in the hopes that heâll drop the subject.
âOh, donât give me that,â Geiszler laughs. His chair squeaks against the floor as he shuffles forward, even closer to you. âCome on! I was practically the matchmaker, right? You gotta give me some details, here.â
Your skin is prickling with mortification now, though you try to swallow it down and act unaffected. Itâs only Geiszler asking, after all.Â
âUmâŠâ You clear your throat, flustered. âThereâs really not that much to say.â
âHow accurate was the dildo?â
âGeiszler!â You deliver a sharp stinging smack to his shoulder and he yelps, jolting away from you. âYou absolute pervert-â
âI thought we were friends-!â He yells back, but heâs visibly laughing. âCome on, it stays between us! You can tell me!â
Heâs so stupid. And yet, youâre hesitating a little. Being one of the very few women on the team of xenobotanists can be tough, even more so when youâre also one of the youngest and you havenât even gotten your doctoral qualification yet. It can be lonely, and youâd be lying if you said you werenât terribly eager for somebody to talk to about things.
âIt-â You begin, flushed hot with embarrassment. âHe- I mean, um. It was pretty accurate. There were some things you missed, though.â
Geiszler pulls a funny sort of face, before his expression settles into one of mock thoughtfulness. âI see. So⊠you did end up using that dildo then?â
You choke, turning on him again. He dodges back before you can slap at his shoulder again, but his grin has gotten impossibly wider.
âDonât be fucking weird about it.â You complain, turning your face away from him so he canât see your face. âMiles has already given me enough shit about it-â
âOh, Miles, huh?â Geiszler is still grinning, and he shuffles closer again now that heâs no longer in danger of being smacked. âDamn, youâre calling the Colonel Miles now?â
You breathe out a nervous laugh, flustered and embarrassed. âI guess. Not in public, obviously.â
âWhy not?â Geiszler asks immediately, leaning forward over your desk and leaning his elbow on the tabletop so he can rest his chin in his palm. âHe doesnât want to show you off? He certainly wasnât trying to hide it when he was in here before-â
âJesus, stop fucking talking about that,â You hiss, scowling at him. âIt was like one time-â
âYou know, the walls in this room are pretty thin, and everyone in the main lab can hear when he-â
âOkay, okay,â You say quickly. âSo it was a couple of times! Whatever!â
Geiszler giggles. His fingers are tapping repeatedly against the desktop as though heâs nervous, though his grin is still bright as ever.Â
âSoâŠâ He says slowly, âWhatâs up with you guys, then? Are you, like, together now?â
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, wasnât it?
âNah,â You murmur, fingers picking absently at a stray bit of paper. âDonât think he wants anything serious.â
âBut you do?â
âFucking hell,â You turn to give him a side eye, but soften it with a little smile. âWhatâs with the third degree, huh? Youâre worse than the RDA-mandated therapists.â
Geiszler laughs, but obediently backs off. âSorry, sorry. Canât blame me for being curious, can you?â
You suppose you canât, so you just hum non-committedly. It is a strange situation, you suppose.
âWhatever,â You say with a sigh, before waving your hands in a shooing motion. âGo on, get out of here. I have work to do.â
Geiszler does as heâs told, pushing himself away from the desk as his gaze darts over the structured mess of your desk.
âSure, sure.â He says good-naturedly. âStill working on the dissertation? You nearly done?â
âYeah.â You beam reflexively, impossibly proud of all your hard work. âThe sample that the recoms brought me has been such a lifesaver! Iâll be able to submit everything this week, I think!â
âHey, thatâs amazing!â Geiszler says, reaching out to clap you cheerfully on the shoulder. âReally awesome! You deserve it. We should celebrate after!â
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.
âRight!â You say, smiling. âSure.âÂ
Geiszler shoots you a blinding grin along with some finger guns, which is a gesture thatâs 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 youâve seen Quaritch.
Itâs not unusual, exactly, considering his work and yours usually keep you occupied in different sections of the base entirely, but still. Youâd be lying to yourself if you said you hadnât been hoping that he would come and see you at some point during the week. Youâre overly aware of the fact that itâs almost always you seeking him out, and so rarely the other way around.
Youâre even more aware of this after your conversation with Geiszler â itâs not that he had said anything surprising, but just talking about it had highlighted the fact that you really werenât sure where you stood with Quaritch at all. Now that youâve started thinking about it, you just canât stop.Â
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. Itâs 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. Heâs a co-worker, and a tentative friend, and he has experience with the very same process youâve just gone through â plus, heâs already made you a promise to celebrate with you!Â
It would probably be a better idea to stick to building upon the budding friendships in the science department â 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 youâve seen of him recently, Quaritch isnât actually a difficult man to find.Â
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 Naâvi 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. Youâre not even particularly out of place in the enormous gym; there are several other human scientists milling around with datapads, though theyâre clearly observing and taking notes on the recomsâ athletic performance.
You spot Quaritch near the back of the gym. Heâs impossible to miss, really. Even if he werenât nine-feet-tall and bright blue, youâre certain youâd be able to locate him based on the sheer amount of overwhelmingly commanding energy that pours off him at any given moment â 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 donât think you could handle another encounter with his squad; youâve done your absolute utmost to avoid all of them ever since the dildo fiasco.
As you approach Quaritch, you begin to falter. Heâs 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. Thereâs 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. Itâs one of the recoms â Lopez, you think â 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.Â
Your face grows hot, mortified; youâre 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. Youâve come this far anyway, and you canât 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.
âHey, kid,â He greets, his elbows resting on his thighs as he watches you approach. âWhatâre you doing here?â
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 youâve seen him completely naked, you still get flustered when youâre faced with how impossibly attractive he is.
âI finished it,â 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. âMy dissertation, I mean.â
Youâre expecting a dismissal, or a half-hearted congratulations maybe. Youâre not expecting Quaritchâs face to relax into a genuine little grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he tilts his head to look at you.Â
âYeah? Nice job, princess.â
You flush, growing warm and flustered from the praise. âWell, Iâve only just submitted it. Iâll have to go through the thesis defence, but hopefully theyâll be able to speed that process up.â
Quaritch is watching your face, his big golden eyes assessing as he evaluates every little expression of yours. Itâs 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.
âSmart girl.â He murmurs at last, mouth quirking. âThis mean you can stop spending so much time in that dirty little room?â
You snort, amused despite yourself. âNo. That dirty little room is my space. Itâs easier to work there by myself than with the other guys in the main lab.â
Quaritchâs eyes narrow, and he leans forward a little. âThose little pubes still bothering you?â
You think back to your conversation with Geiszler from earlier that week â it had gone well, and youâve seen him almost every day this week. Heâs hardly teased you at all about Quaritch, in fact, which is the opposite of what you had expected. Heâs been very respectful and very work-appropriate.
âNo, actually.â You say with a satisfied sort of smile. âEverything is good.â
Quaritch grunts softly in acknowledgement, before sitting up a little straighter. âWhy donât I drop by the lab later? Iâve got a few things to finish up here.â
You canât help the way your stomach wobbles, butterflies fluttering wildly in your belly. Youâre almost embarrassed about the effect he has on you, but not embarrassed enough considering youâre still smiling dopily up at him.
âYeah,â You breathe. âYeah, that sounds great.â
Quaritchâs smile turns cocky, his mouth curving up as he watches your reaction. âYeah?â
You grin back, and try not to nod too eagerly. You can still feel the eyes of Quaritchâs squad on you, watching intently as you converse quietly with their superior office. Curiosity is practically radiating off them, and youâre sure there are more than one pair of twitching ears trying to listen in on your conversation.
âWas that all?â Quaritch asks, âOr did you just come here to see me?â
Ah, busted. Your grin turns a little bashful, and you scratch absently at your elbow.
âI just wanted to tell someone about my dissertation, I guess.â 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.
âYou did good, girl.â He says, reaching out to pat you on the shoulder. âWell done.â
His hand lingers, his long fingers curling around your shoulder and resting along the back of your neck. Itâs 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 itâs 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 donât even care. Youâre lost in the moment, staring up at his sharp-boned, handsome face as you revel in his approval.Â
You clear your throat. âIâll, um.. Iâll see you later, then?â
âYeah,â Quaritch removes his hand from your shoulder, to your dismay. âSee you then, kid.â
Despite the fact that youâve already seen him, you take a little time to fix yourself up that evening as you await Quaritchâs arrival. Youâve 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.
Youâre 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 itâs Geiszler who has just stepped in.
âOh,â You say, surprised. âHey.â
Geiszler smiles back at you as he saunters his way into the room; bizarrely, he looks nervous.
âHey!â He greets, a little more upbeat than usual. âCongratulations on the thesis!â
âOh, thank you!â You relax, realising now why heâs here. âGod, it hardly even feels real, you know.â
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 heâs eyeing the way youâve prettied yourself up with makeup.
âI brought you this,â He clears his throat, and brings his arm out from behind his back. You hadnât even noticed that he was attempting to hide a large bottle in his hands. âUh⊠Steiner from exobiology has been brewing his own vodka with some of the freeze-dried potatoes we brought from Earth. Here â itâs a congratulations present.â
When he places the bottle on the table, you accept it with a gracious if not surprised smile. Itâs 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.
âDamn, thank you!â You say with a short little chuckle. âThis was a lovely thought.â
Geiszler seems pleased with your reaction, though he just shrugs his shoulders as though itâs no big deal. âYeah, well, I figured I owed you something nice after being a dick to you before.â
You try not to sigh. It seems like heâs just going to keep bringing that up, no matter how many times you try to get him to drop it.Â
âWell, thanks.â
Geiszler leans forward, planting his elbows on the desk beside you. Heâs 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.Â
âYou look nice.â He says simply, offering you another little smile. âIâm guessing you have plans for the evening?â
You clear your throat, but you canât help the little smile thatâs starting to creep over your face. âYeah. Iâm just waiting-â
âFor Quaritch?â Geiszler interrupts you, though his voice is still casual and his expression doesnât change. âWell, heâs a lucky man. Is it date night? He taking you somewhere nice?â
Your smile falters a little. No, itâs not date night. Quaritch has been clear from the start that he doesnât want anything like a relationship, and heâs been true to his word this whole time. He comes around for sex, and itâs very good sex, but sex is all it ever is. And thatâs fine! Youâre fine with just the sex! But you have to admit, some part of you yearns for a little more than that.
âUm, no.â You say at last, swallowing and hitching your smile back up. âNo, nothing like that. Just a quiet night in, probably.â
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.
âI know you like him,â He begins, his voice lowering to a murmur despite the fact that the two of you are alone in your little work room. âBut is this really what you want? Someone that wonât even take you on dates? That only uses you as something to fuck?â
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.Â
He doesnât know what heâs talking about, is the first thing that crosses your mind, irritated and dismissive. But then you pause, and bite at your lip. Itâs not something you want to admit to yourself, but he does have somewhat of a point.Â
Is it unreasonable to hope for more from the Colonel? He had told you straight out that he didnât 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.
Itâs not selfish to wish quietly for a deeper level of intimacy with the man youâre so damn infatuated with, is it? You want to be able to hold his big hands, to comfort him when heâs stressed, to tell him about your day, to share a bed and just sleep, to go on dates. Theyâre thoughts that youâve been trying hard to keep stifled for the past several weeks for exactly this reason â 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.
âDonât you think youâve gotten him out of your system by now?â He asks, so quietly that you almost have to strain to hear him.Â
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 youâve been sitting on, and whirl around to find that Quaritch has finally shown up.
âMiles,â You breathe, reaching to smooth down your dress. âHey.â
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.
âHey, kid.â He greets, though he doesnât look away from Geiszler. âWhat are you up to?â
You clear your throat again, and fight not to fidget with your fingers. You feel bizarrely guilty, which is stupid. Thereâs nothing wrong with talking to Geiszler, and thereâs nothing wrong with questioning where you stand with Quaritch.Â
âNothing!â You say, but it comes out much too quickly to be entirely believable.Â
His big golden eyes flick in your direction, and you find yourself struggling to meet his stare. Heâs so good at reading your thoughts by your expression alone, and youâre embarrassed about this.Â
Thereâs 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 heâs close. Youâre only distantly aware of the way that Geiszler shuffles to the left, adding about an inch of distance between you.
Youâre 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.
âLook, Geiszler brought a gift! Isnât this cool?â You babble. âItâs vodka! Made from- uh, potatoes!â
Quaritch has grown accustomed enough to your mannerisms in the past couple of weeks that your nervous babbling doesnât 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 youâre holding.
âWell, would ya look at that.â He says. His tone is perfectly mild, yet when his eyes slide over to Geiszler they flash a little darker. âHe certainly does like bringing you presents, donât he?â
Geiszler has grown a little pale, and he shoots a quick glance your way. You just smile at him â Quaritch can be a little scary, sure, but you know that Geiszler doesnât really have anything to worry about. Most likely, heâs just a little irritated still about the whole dildo situation.
âIt was a lovely thought.â You say, placing the bottle back on the tabletop. âI havenât had alcohol since I came to Pandora.â
Geiszler visibly brightens. âNah, it was nothing. Youâve been working so hard, you deserve some kind of reward.â
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.Â
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 heâs 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 donât move away from him. His hand remains firmly planted on your asscheek. It doesnât feel like he has any plans to move it.Â
You clear your throat a little as you attempt to continue the conversation as though Quaritch isnât currently unashamedly groping you.
âWell, thank you.â You murmur, hoping that your smile doesnât seem too strained. âI still canât believe Iâm gonna get my doctorate.â
âItâs well-deserved.â Geiszlerâs voice is oddly soft, almost uncharacteristically so. âYouâll be the sweetest botanist we have, I think.â
That seems like a bizarrely condescending thing to say, and your brow pinches a little. You think he means it as a compliment, but itâs yet another reminder that the other scientists donât 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.
âOh, donât let the sweetness fool ya,â He drawls, his upper lip peeling up in a smirk to reveal sharp teeth. âGirlâs a brat.â
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.
âMiles!â You hiss, mortified.
Quaritch finally looks away from Geiszler, just so he can roll his head around and blink down at you. He doesnât look sorry in the least; in fact, he just grins at you.
âWhatâs wrong, darlinâ?â He asks, his tone falsely sugar-sweet. âYouâre not usually so embarrassed.â
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 heâs giving you is significant, his eyebrows raised behind his large wide glasses, and youâre struck again by what he had said earlier.
âIs this really what you want? Someone that wonât even take you on dates? That only uses you as something to fuck?â
Flushed, you look down at your feet. God, you really canât help yourself, can you?
âAlright, why donât you head out now?â Quaritch says above you, tossing a quick look Geiszlerâs way.
His glower is unmistakable, and Geiszler flinches a little under the heavy weight of it. He takes a step back as though he canât help himself, before darting a glance in your direction.
âRight. Yeah. Um,â Despite the way heâs visibly cowering slightly in Quaritchâs presence, Geiszler still manages to gather enough courage to shoot you a smile. âCongratulations again. Weâll celebrate another time, right?â
âYeah.â You nod, offering him a tight smile. âSure.â
Geiszlerâs 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.Â
âHey, think about what I said!â He calls once heâs at the door, just before he ducks out of the room. âSee you tomorrow!â
Thereâs a long moment of silence as the door slides shut behind him. Youâre biting at your lip, brow furrowed â as much as youâd like to put his words firmly out of your head, you know that itâs 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.
âI do not like that guy.â He grumbles, nose twitching.Â
You laugh a little breathlessly, unable to help yourself. âHeâs not so bad.â
Quaritch turns his head to look at you, his expression one of firm disbelief. âWhat? Is he not the slimy little creep that gave you that sex toy you were all upset over?â
The memory makes your skin prickle with remembered humiliation, and you roll your eyes in an attempt to appear casual.
âI was upset because you and your squad of morons ruined my research, not over the dildo.â You mumble, finally stepping away from him. âBesides, I thought you liked that dildo â it helped me get ready for you, didnât it?â
Usually that would be enough to distract him, but it seems like Geiszlerâs 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.
âI seem to remember you throwing things, kid.â He reminds you, lowering himself a little further so heâs at eye-level with you. âYou tellinâ me that was just for me?â
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. Heâs just so intense about everything, and you feel as though youâre being examined.
âWell, maybe you push my buttons more than he does.â
Quaritch makes an odd little grunting sound, his eyes still flicking over your face. Heâs 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.
âWhat was that he was saying?â He asks, his voice low. âWas he bothering you before I arrived?â
âNo,â You say quickly, averting your eyes. âNo, that was nothing.â
Thereâs 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 youâre 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.
âYou tellinâ me the truth, sweetheart?â He murmurs. His tone makes it clear that he already knows the answer to his own question.
âYeah,â You keep your smile hitched up on your face, though it takes a little effort. âOf course. Will we head out, then?â
Another pause, this one longer than the last.Â
âAlright.â He drawls at last, pulling hand away from you as he stands. âLetâs go then.â
The tiny seed of doubt in your mind starts to bloom into full blown apprehension over the following days.Â
The evening you had with Quaritch had been lovely â 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 werenât ever really concerned about rejection â 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 thatâs 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, itâs best to give him some space.
For the first time in months, you stop seeking Quaritch out. You donât go looking for him in the gym so you can watch him work out, you donât try to grab seats close to the Recom area in the cafeteria so you can watch him during mealtimes, you donât go searching for him in the evening times so you can coyly invite him back to your quarters, you donât 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.Â
You had been aware on some level that it had mainly been you seeking him out, but now that youâve stopped youâre disheartened to find that Geiszler had been right. Quaritch doesnât come looking for you at all â maybe itâs true that he was only interested in you on a sexual basis. And even then, itâs only because you offer yourself to him. Does he think youâre easy? God, you probably come across as so desperate. Does he think youâre pathetic?
Either way, itâs a little disheartening. But whatever. Itâs fine. Youâre fine.
A week and a half after you first started to keep to yourself, Geiszler starts lingering around your workroom. At first, itâs 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 itâs like having nonstop noise playing in the background.
âHey, how come you donât join the rest of us back in the main lab?â He asks one afternoon.Â
Heâs 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 itâs difficult not to grow disgruntled at the constant invasion.
It takes a moment for you to answer.
âBecause,â You murmur slowly, scratching out a quick memo in your notes. âYou guys are assholes. You laugh at me all the time, and I know that you all think Iâm not as smart as you.â
âOh, come on.â Geiszler says with a short laugh, leaning his chin into his hands. âYou know we donât mean anything by it-â
âYes, you do.â You mumble without looking up. âItâs obvious. I have to work so much harder than any of you, but it hardly ever matters. It doesnât 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 doesnât know what sheâs talking about.â
Geiszler just blinks at you for a moment. Maybe he expects you to be angrier than you are; but youâve already experienced years of this. More than anything, youâre just tired of it.
âCome on,â He says at last, leaning forward with an ingratiating little smile. âI donât think thatâs fair.â
âNo?â You murmur absently, flipping a page. âThen 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 Iâm 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 itâs weird.â
Thereâs a brief pause where Geiszler visibly fumbles for a response. His brow furrows, his mouth pursing, as he attempts to gather his thoughts. You donât look up from your work, but you can practically feel antsy shifting from beside you.
âOh, thatâs not fair.â He says finally, a little weakly. âI mean- okay, so maybe we thought it was a little funny that-â He cuts himself off with a shake of his head, and then changes tactics. âWhat, are you telling me Quaritch thinks youâre smart?â
That makes you pause, your own brow puckering into a frown. He says it as though itâs a difficult thing to believe, but youâve never really thought about it. You may have made a fool of yourself in front of Quaritch on several occasions, but heâs never actually made you feel stupid about it. Heâs rolled his eyes at you plenty of times, maybe laughed at you a little, but youâve never gotten the impression that heâs actually questioning your intelligence.
âI think he does.â 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 didnât seem as though he thought you were stupid then.
âItâs Quaritch.â Geiszler points out, his voice thick with disbelief. âCome on! He thinks everyone is stupid! You hardly think youâre the exception?â
You turn to him sharply, eyes narrowing. Your irritation is flaring now, and you find yourself completely unable to hide it.
âDo you seriously think this is helping your point?â You snap. âLike, really?â
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. Youâve been on Pandora for almost a full year now, and over that time youâve grown used to the attitude of the guys in the lab. Itâs not unusual, after all. Youâve been met with the same kind of derision in plenty of the male dominated work and study spaces youâve experienced back on Earth. But even though youâve 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 Geiszlerâs hands against the tabletop, he speaks again.
âSorry.â He says, quietly. âI didnât mean anything by it. I know youâre upset about him recently.â
You clench your jaw irritably. You donât like that itâs so obvious how you feel about him, and you like it even less that Geiszler seems to be so interested in it.
âWhatever.â You mumble, turning your face away with a quiet sigh. âIt doesnât really matter, anyway.â
The next silence doesnât 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 heâs just good company, but sometimes his boldness takes you aback.
âLook, Iâm just worried about you,â He says, his voice quiet and urgent. âYou keep yourself so isolated here, it canât be healthy. Whenâs the last time you socialised with the rest of the xenobotanist team?âÂ
You hum in false thought. âThink 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 wasnât even there. You know, when Boyd asked if Iâd write a report on human/Naâvi sexual compatibility?â
Geiszler winces in acknowledgement. âYeah, that mightâve been a bit inappropriate.â
You just shoot him a look before returning your attention to your work. Itâs not even a conversation worth having, in your eyes. But despite your obvious dismissal, Geiszler doesnât seem ready to give up.
âYouâre not interested in coming to drink with the team, then?â He asks in a wheedling tone, as though heâs talking to a pouting child.
âNo.â You say. Your tone is blunt to the point of rudeness, but youâre past caring.
âWell, what about having a drink with me?â
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.Â
Maybe Geiszler does have a point. Shutting yourself up in your makeshift lab away from everyone else certainly hasnât done you any favours in the friendship department; if anything, itâs 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.Â
âA drink?â You ask cautiously.
âYeah,â Geiszler leans forward, clearly seeing your hesitance as an opportunity. âWhy not? I can come back this evening with another bottle of moonshine â we can drink it here! We donât even have to leave the room. Itâll just be a casual hang-out, me and you. You could use a distraction, donât you think?â
You chew at your lip, thinking. Maybe heâs right â maybe you could use a distraction.
âYeah. Okay, sure.â You say, trying to muster up some degree of enthusiasm.
Your attempt at levity falls completely flat. Geiszler, bless his heart, doesnât even seem to notice.
The alcohol thatâs available in Bridgehead is expensive considering itâs 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. Itâs 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.Â
Itâs probably inevitable that the conversation turns back to you and Quaritchâs odd little arrangement. You canât 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.
âI just donât get it, man.â Geiszler is saying, his chin cradled in his hands as he stares at you with wide eyes. Heâs clearly had too much of the very strong moonshine; he can hardly sit up straight. âLike⊠why him?â
You just sigh, tilting your head back so you can stare at the panelled ceiling way above your head. âI donât know. Would it be very shallow to point out the fact that heâs literally beautiful?â
Geiszler snorts a little drunken laugh, before inclining his head in acknowledgement. âNo, thatâs fair actually.â
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 youâve stolen away with him so far.Â
âThe Naâvi as a whole are physically attractive,â Geiszler notes, reaching up to push his glasses clumsily up the bridge of his nose. âBut why are you so fixated on him? He mostly just ignores you when heâs not trying to screw you.â
You flush at that, a little humiliated. You know heâs likely just protective of you like a good friend should be, but you donât like how that paints you as some kind of pathetic little idiot thatâs just desperate for attention.
âOther than the fact that heâs biologically and physically perfect-â You soldier on even as Geiszler snorts at your words, âHeâs gentle with me. I donât necessarily think Iâd call him sweet, but⊠I think he could be, if he wanted to.â
Thereâs 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.
âI canât lie, man, thatâs not very cool. Youâre clinging onto this guy because he could be sweet if he wanted to? Damn.â He drawls. âI mean, itâs Quaritch. I donât think sweet is in his vocabulary, unless heâs making fun of you.â
It seems like the moonshine has gotten rid of the last remnants of Geiszlerâs filter. Youâre in a difficult position to argue, too, because heâs sort of right.
You just sigh. âYeah. Maybe youâre right.â
That seems to encourage him. He takes another deep gulp of his drink, wincing at the taste, before shuffling a little closer to where youâre sitting.
âI do have another question,â He says slowly, a tiny grin beginning to grow across his face. âHow did it⊠you know⊠Fit?â
You nearly choke at that question, a horrified laugh bubbling out of your mouth.Â
âOh my god, donât ask me questions like that, you little creep!â You slap at his shoulder, hard.
He yelps and pulls away, but now heâs laughing too. âAlright, alright! Canât blame a man for being a little curious!â
Despite the topic of conversation, you find yourself feeling at ease. Itâs comfortable sitting here and sharing a drink in your little lab like this; itâs the first time since youâve arrived on Pandora that youâve really felt like you have a friend. Itâs nice.
Geiszler is still smiling, but his eyes have a somewhat serious gleam to them when he turns to you again. Thereâs 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 heâs actually sitting to you.
âHey,â He murmurs with a soft sigh. âI know weâre joking about it, but you really do deserve better. You know that, right?â
You glance down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. You guess you do know that, on some level, but youâve never truly had a crush this intense on anyone before â and youâve 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.
âMaybe.â You mumble non-committedly, setting your glass back on the table. Itâs almost full still; you donât 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. Itâs 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 hasnât 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. âListen, Iâve⊠Iâve liked you for a while now. And itâs been kinda tough to see you mooning over Quaritch â I could treat you so much better. I would treat you so much better.â
Your stomach sinks, dread weighing it down heavily until it feels as though it's sitting on the floor. âOh. Geiszler, I donât-â
But Geiszler just keeps ploughing ahead.
âThe dildo thing was a joke, but I also thought thatâ 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 donât mind! But now Iâm thinking that surely youâve worked out all your curiosity about how Naâvi sex works-â
Your mouth falls open, horrified. Is that what he thought was happening? That you were just âworking out your curiosityâ? Did he really think that your feelings were so inconsequential that they could be gotten over so easily?
â-I thought that, well, since itâs so obvious that Quaritch isnât interested in you in the same way you are him, that maybe youâd realise it was time to move on. And I know that youâre upset, but Iâm right here. And I swear Iâd be good to you-â
âJesus,â 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 doesnât even seem to notice how youâre attempting to pull away from him.
âThe guys in the lab still laugh over how moony-eyed you get over him, you know,â He says, as though to compound your embarrassment. âEspecially considering all he really does is ignore you. I would never do that. Iâd never leave lonely like that. Iâdâ Iâd sleep with you every night â 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-"
âFucking hell, Geiszler-â 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.
Itâs like heâs 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 canât even escape because heâs right in front of you; heâs not a particularly large man, but heâs drunk and heavy and leaning on you in such a way that youâre struggling to get out from beneath his weight.
âStop,â 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 hadnât spoken at all.
âI know that itâs not going to be the same as when youâre with Quaritch, obviously,â He says, speaking even quicker now as if he knows youâre going to try and interrupt, âThere are some pretty obvious physical differences, but I would make you feel good â I know I would-â
âGeiszler,â You attempt a reasoning sort of tone, but youâre too impatient for it to sound convincing. âSeriously. Iâ I consider you a friend, but I donât see you likeââ
He doesnât even let you finish. His face contorts in a frown, cheeks all flushed from the alcohol. Honestly, he looks a little pathetic like this.
âBut Iâd treat you better than he does.â He says, leaning forward insistently as though he just canât understand what the problem is. âI actually like you. If itâsâ if itâs sexual compatibility youâre worried about-â
âItâs not!â
âI donât think itâd 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! Iâll do anything you want, honestly.â
You recoil at that, your face scrunching up in distaste. The thought alone makes your body tense; you canât think of anything less arousing.
Your attention is momentarily pulled away from Geiszlerâs 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 youâre 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 heâs been standing there, but his expression is decidedly unimpressed.Â
âOh.â You blurt, staring at him wide-eyed.
Quaritch doesnât even say anything. One of his eyebrows just creeps higher, before his eyes wander down over your body and land on Geiszlerâs 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 heâs bothered to come looking for you in weeks!
Besides, youâre not actually doing anything wrong! Quartich had told you clearly that he wasnât looking for anything serious and had never made any kind of attempt at discussing just what the hell you two were doing together, so itâs not as though he can be surprised that youâve maybe decided to spend time with someone else. Itâs unfortunate that heâs arrived to hear Geiszlerâs gross drunken confession, but what can you do?
Geiszler, distressingly, doesnât even seem to notice that youâre looking over his shoulder with a distinctly horrified expression.
âI just want you to feel good. You can sit on my face â I donât even care if I canât breathe-â 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 Quaritchâs big yellow eyes and the feeling of Geiszlerâs sweaty palm clutching at your bare thigh.Â
Before you can shut Geiszler down or even point out that youâre not alone anymore, Quaritch pushes himself off the doorframe and steps into the room properly.
âNice offer,â He drawls, his eyes sharp and bright as he watches Geiszler like a cat stalking a mouse. âBut she wonât be needing that.â
The sound of Quaritchâs voice is more effective in getting Geiszlerâs 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 Geiszlerâs face as he tilts his head back to stare up at the towering form of Quaritch as he steps closer. You canât 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.
âWhy are you here?â He demands belligerently. âLeave her alone!â
Quaritch tilts his head, before his mouth widens into a mean smile. âIâm not the one sexually harassing her, puke. Why donât you beat it now, hm?â
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 doesnât 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.
âShe doesnât even want you!â Geiszler declares stupidly, slurring a little.
That declaration doesnât garner the reaction that Geiszler had been expecting. Quaritchâs expression turns unmistakably amused, his lips tilting up into a smug kind of smirk. He doesnât even bother arguing back; instead, he reaches forward and takes a hold of the back of Geiszlerâs shirt with a single, enormous hand.
Itâs 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 doesnât 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 youâve been hoping to avoid!Â
When Quaritch turns back to face you, you blurt out, âWhat the fuck was that?â
Quaritch pauses. Itâs clear that this isnât 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.
âYou better be joking, darlinâ.â 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.
âI was handling it.â You say simply, folding your arms across your chest and scowling at him. âHe was just drunk and stupid, he didnât-â
Quaritch snorts, then swiftly closes the distance between you. You hardly even get a chance to react before heâs right in front of you, crouching down so he can talk to you at eye level.
âDonât tell me he didnât mean it,â He says, his voice low and full of warning. âI'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.â
He sounds⊠jealous? Itâs 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!
âWhat happens between my legs is none of your business,â You snap, your arms tightening defensively over your chest. âI canât see why the fuck it would matter to you whether he touches me or not.â
Quaritchâs eyes flare wide for a moment, his lips pressed together tight as he watches you intently.
âDonât take that fucking tone with me,â He warns quietly, his voice low and even and sort of terrifying. âYou telling me you let all those cockless little losers touch up on you like that? You telling me that's not my business?â
You almost choke, shocked by the sheer audacity of the man. Though his eyes are still flashing from the warning over your tone, heâs 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. âYes. 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 youâre practically breathing each otherâs air. One of his hands reaches out and clasps you by your hip, so big and hot as it pins you in place.
âYouâre mouthy today,â He murmurs, fangs gleaming as he grins. âDoes arguing like this get you wet, kid? You need to work off some steam?âÂ
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.Â
Quaritch is watching your expression carefully, and that smug grin only grows at whatever he sees there.
âOh, you do like it.â He crows softly. âYou want me angry, honey? You want to be put in your place?â
His hand drifts lower, coasting over the swell of your ass, and your breath catches in your throat â you nearly choke on it. Under your burning indignation, you feel heat coiling between your legs and you hate it.
âNo,â You wheeze out, squirming as he leans in. Youâve ended up trapped between him and the desk behind you, pressed right up against it as he looms closer. âNo. Iâm angry at you.â
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 canât work, and that thought has you forcibly biting down a hysterical giggle. The reminder that heâs so much older than you, even in this body, always sends an exciting sort of thrill running through you.
âYouâre angry with me.â Quaritch repeats slowly, as though tasting how the words sound in his mouth. He doesnât appear impressed. âAnd is this the same reason that youâve suddenly been avoiding me?â
Ah. So he had noticed your absence.Â
You keep your jaw set stubbornly, refusing to be cowed by his big intense eyes and overwhelming presence as he looms over you.
âMaybe.â You say shortly. âI donât see why it matters.â
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 werenât so busy trying to maintain your own composure.
âThe hell..?â He mutters, before leaning back in with a scowl. âWhat the hellâs the matter with you, huh? For the past few months youâve 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?â
You keep your arms crossed defensively over your chest as you glare at him, growing angry and defensive. Heâs still got his hand spread across your ass, which makes it difficult to effectively scowl at him, but you manage all the same.
âYou donât have to act like you care. I get that Iâve been annoying and desperate and pathetic chasing after you, and I get that youâve been fucking me out of- I donât know, convenience or pity or whatever-â
âWhatââ
You plough on before Quaritch can interrupt you. â-But that doesnât mean that itâs okay to treat me like shit, or to laugh at meââ
âWhen the fuck have I laughed at you?â Quaritch is clearly struggling to stay calm, but heâs 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.
âYou think Iâm stupid!â 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 youâve ever seen. He doesnât even look annoyed anymore, he just looks fed up.
âNo,â He rumbles, using his grip on your ass to pull you closer to where heâs crouching on his haunches. âI donât think youâre stupid. I do think youâre acting like a goddamn brat right now though, and Iâm still waiting for an explanation.â
You swallow, some of the fight draining out of you. Heâs 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, youâve got him looking at you with mildly irritated confusion, and heâs actually trying to get you to explain your feelings to him. Itâs not how you thought this would go, and now youâre feeling a little wrong-footed.
You glance to the side, unable to meet his gaze.Â
âI havenât seen you in weeks,â You mumble trying not to sound petulant. âIt 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 meanâ fuck! Even now, the only times youâve ever come to see me is after Iâve ignored you! Itâs like you only want me when you think I wonât have youââ
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 doesnât work; you just get upset, and reach up to smack him on the chest. He doesnât even blink as the blow glances off his chest, as though your fists are of no more consequence than a mildly irritating fly.
âStop that.â He orders, sharp as ever. âJesus, kid. Whereâs all this coming from, huh? I leave for two weeks and you have a breakdown?â
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.
âYou left?â You repeat, frowning.
That makes Quaritch snort, his eyes rolling. âAll this cryinâ and you didnât even notice? Whatâre you so upset over, then?â
âI-â 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. âI justâ Geiszler said thatââ
Quaritchâs expression darkens, his eyes narrowing. He doesnât 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. âHe said that everyone was laughing at me. Because I like you a lot, and youâve been ignoring me the best you can. So I stopped going looking for you or asking about you, for weeks, to see if youâd come to me and you didnâtââ
âBecause I wasnât here, kid.â 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. âThe team was sent out on recon two weeks ago into the lowlands. Youâve been getting all twisted up in knots over nothing.â
Your mouth drops open, and youâre 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 wasnât 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, youâve just made a total fool of yourself.
âOh.â You whisper, blinking at him as you stare back into his unwavering amber eyes. âIâ I didnât know.â
But Quaritch isnât 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 hasnât 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.
âI only got back two days ago. I did come looking for you, but some of the guys out in the main lab said you werenât in.â He says, speaking slowly and purposefully as though he thinks youâre not listening. âSo I came today instead. Now, are you finished acting like a fucking lunatic?â
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 werenât in? That didnât even make any sense â 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.
âSo,â You say, frowning as your lower lip wobbles a little. âGeiszler was lying to me?â
Quaritch just tilts his head back and sighs through his nose, as though praying for patience. Heâs usually such a foul-mouthed hard-ass that seeing him actually make an attempt to regulate himself when youâre upset is a little heart-warming, though you still feel stupid for allowing yourself to be pulled in by him.
âWhy would you trust the little creep thatâs been sending you sex toys and asking you questions about your sex life, huh?â He asks, his voice a little strained as though heâs forcing patience.
You just purse your lips, still frowning. âI thought we were friends.â
Quaritch just takes a breath and decides not to respond to that. Instead, the hand thatâs not still holding you by the ass reaching back around to his back pocket, and he grapples with something there for a moment.
âHere, I got something for you. So no more sulking, got it?â
He doesnât 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 thatâs curled up on the inside.
When recognition finally clicks, you let out a squealing gasp before you reach up to grab it.
âHoly shit! Holy shit, you got a biological specimen of the panopyra?â
Quaritch just grunts, but his tail curls in the air behind him. Heâs 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 youâre 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.
âOh, thank you, thank you, thank you-â
Quaritch just snorts, though his ears twitch in obvious satisfaction. âYeah, yeah. Youâre an easy little thing to please, ainâtcha?â
You donât take offence to that; this is the second time that Quaritch has delivered panopyra samples to you in order to calm you down, and itâs been embarrassingly effective each time.
âIâve been wanting to get my hands on a sample like this for months-!â 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.
âWhereâre you going?â
âI need to put this in the fridge-â
âNuh uh,â He murmurs, reaching out to take the container off of you and setting it firmly to the side on the desktop. âYou ainât going near that damn fridge. You telling me youâve forgotten that little reward you promised me?â
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.
âNo,â You murmur, suddenly feeling a little shy. âI remember.â
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.
âYouâve been feeling neglected, huh?â He asks, his voice dropping into a low rumble that vibrates right into your chest. âThatâs why youâre all pissy, right? Youâve been wanting more attention?â
âYes,â You whisper stupidly, pressing into his hands as his palms glide along your lower back to rest on your ass again. âYes.â
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.
âFuck,â He rumbles. âI can smell you, kid. Arguing really does get you wet, doesnât it?â
You flush with embarrassed heat, closing your eyes so that you donât have to see him looking at you like that. It wasnât 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 donât 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 canât stop yourself from pressing down into his hand all the same.
âOh yeah,â He grunts, sounding ridiculously pleased. âNeedy little thing. I bet that pathetic little science bitch could just smell it off you â no wonder he was sniffinâ around you like that.â
âMiles,â You breathe, reaching out to hold onto his shoulders as he pulls you closer so that he can dip his fingers into your panties. âPlease-â
He chuckles, and tucks his head into your neck before delivering a stinging little warning bite to your shoulder that has your knees weakening. âI know what I want for my reward.â
âYeah?â You ask, starting to grin.
Your stomach twitches in anticipation, and you cling to him all the harder. You can only imagine what heâs 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 doesnât 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 canât even be self-conscious about it, because judging by the pleased grunt he lets out he likes what heâs smelling.
âDrivinâ me crazy here,â He mumbles into your belly, hiking your dress up higher around your waist. âIâve been thinking about this all week.â
You take a breath, your hands clenching around the thin fabric of his wifebeater. The knowledge that heâs been thinking of you is heady, especially since you had pretty much convinced yourself that he didnât want you anywhere near him.
âMiles,â You whisper, reaching for his belt. âDo you want me to-â
But to your surprise, he pushes your hand away.
âNah, honey,â He murmurs, his head dipping lower until that flat nose is pressed right up against the seat of your cotton panties. âLet me do my thing.â
You donât 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.Â
He inhales deeply into the crease of your thigh, before letting out a quiet little grunt. âYou smell like strawberries. What is that?â
âMy- my body lotion.â You wheeze, shivering against his face as you tilt your hips eagerly towards him.
âYeah? Fuck, thatâs good.â He breathes you in, before licking you through the fabric of your panties.
You jolt a little, and then one of Quaritchâs 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; youâre 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. Youâre still pressed up against the desk, which is probably the only reason you havenât overbalanced and fallen on your ass.
âMiles-â You start to protest, muscles in your thighs already burning, but he cuts you off with a swift, stinging slap to your ass. Thereâs hardly any strength behind it, but itâs enough to warn you off complaining.Â
The message is clear; this is his reward, and youâre to let him take it. Truthfully, youâre 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.
âYou taste so good, kid.â He grunts against your cunt, pulling you against his face so that his words come out muffled and distorted.
âPervert.â You say, your voice low and ragged as if you hadnât been the one humping your cunt up against his face.
Quaritch just laughs, his grip on your thighs tightening. God, heâs so patient with you. It just makes you wetter.
When he pulls away, you almost whine. He looks amused at your reaction, though you donât 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.
âCome on,â He grunts, his strong fingers squeezing at your ass as he hauls you forward so that youâre all pressed up against his body. âCome here to me, darlinâ-â
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 thatâs almost too quick for you to follow, Quaritch leans back so that heâs 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.
âAinât that a pretty sight,â Quaritch coos, reaching out to run his hands all over your thighs, pushing your dress up even higher. âFuck, mama, just look at you. Take this off, câmon.â
You donât even hesitate. His gaze is searing, and you feel hot and overwhelmed under his attention â you just want to please him, to make him happy, and so you reach for your dress and pull it off eagerly.
When youâre 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.
âOh, you bastard, why would you do that? I donât have unlimited underwear on this fucking planet-!â You start to complain, but Quaritch obviously isnât listening to a damn word youâre saying.
âStill so fucking mouthy,â He rumbles though he doesnât 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 heâs requested, and butterflies erupt in your tummy at the thought â you had initially guessed that he might want a blowjob, but now youâre guessing he wants something else based on this position youâre in.
âWant me to ride you?â 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.
âYeah,â He says, his grin turning wicked. âSomething like that.â
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.
âSit on my face, honey. Come on.â
You nearly jolt, staring at him in disbelief. âIâ wait, what? I canât do that-â
Quaritch makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat, and doesnât stop his tugging at you. Heâs strong too, so heâs able to pull you right up to his head with minimal effort.
âI had to listen to your creepy little friend talk about every wet dream heâs about you,â He points out, his lip curling as he stares up at you. âAnd now youâre refusing me this? Come on, mama, let me get my mouth on you.â
His hands are strong and persistent, and you end up with your knees splayed out around Quaritchâs head, hovering nervously above his face. Itâs 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.
âI-â You flounder, mortified. âIâll crush you.â
That makes him laugh, teeth flashing.
âYou can try, kid.â He says, his smile so sharp that it nearly takes your breath away. âYou can try.â
Maybe itâs the fact that he appears genuinely eager about getting his mouth on your pussy, or maybe itâs the fact that heâs 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. Youâve never tried anything like this before, but Quaritch clearly feels as though he has something to prove â who are you to deny him the chance to show off that heâs 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.
âOh!â You blurt, startled at the sensation. Itâs so much more intense than you had been expecting â Quaritch has eaten your pussy before, many times, but itâs 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.
âGot a good grip, mama?â He asks in a tone that suggests youâll need it.
âIâ oh!â You wheeze a shocked breath when he pulls your hips back down, so firmly that you canât 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 donât have much control over this. You gasp, trailing off into a moan as Quaritchâs 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 youâre told, move where youâre 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. Heâs so big, so strong, youâre 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.Â
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 doesnât complain. He doesnât 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 itâs his new Naâvi 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 heâs determined to use his new senses to absolutely devour you.
Youâre 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 heâs 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; youâre shocked by the sheer speed of it.
âOh god,â you moan stupidly. âWait. Wait, wait, wait!â
With an embarrassing squelching sort of noise, Quaritchâs mouth finally detaches from your pussy. He pulls back, already frowning.Â
âWhat?â
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.
âIâm gonna come,â You squeal, your hips still twitching. The air in the lab is cold against your sweat-slick skin, and youâre already desperate to feel his mouth on you again. âFuck! I was- I was gonna come.â
Quaritch just grunts, clearly displeased that you had interrupted his efforts just to make an announcement like that. âThen come.â
He moves to lean back in, but a swift jab to his head has him pausing with a scowl. Heâs breathing hard, his eyes a little hazy and unfocused, his mouth slick and shining. Thereâs a glimmer of sweat along his brow and his chest, his little bioluminescent dots glowing brightly. Heâs so pretty â you want to sit on his face again just so you can stop looking at it, overwhelmed by how handsome he is.
âAre you-â You shiver, trying to lean away from the heat of his breath as it ghosts over your slick skin. âAre you gonna fuck me?â
âMaybe later,â He grunts, taking the opportunity to clumsily lift up his CO2 respirator to take a sip of air. âCâmon, sit back down.â
âI wanna come with you inside me,â You say. Youâre trying not to sound whiny, but youâre pretty sure you miss the mark.Â
âGreedy,â Quaritch grunts. He bites at your thigh, a little harshly. âThis ainât for you. This is my reward, remember?â
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.
âCâmon, princess, letâs go. Keep grinding on me like that â I liked it.â
âOkay,â You breathe, allowing your hips to be guided back down onto his open mouth.Â
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 youâre 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.
âOh, god.â You sigh, closing your eyes against the force of the heat coiling in your belly. âOh fuck, Miles, please keep doing that-â
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 youâre losing your mind, as though his tongue is actually fucking you stupid.
You canât 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 youâre rubbing your clit frantically against the mind-blowing texture of Quaritchâs tongue, and you throw your head back as your hips spasm. Your mouth opens wide as you gasp for breath, but you canât even find the air to make a sound as you shake apart on Quaritchâs tongue.
But itâs only a short-term relief, because Quaritch doesnât let up. His tongue just keeps going, and soon youâre 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 heâs using his goddamn mouth as a weapon, and youâre soon over-sensitive and teary-eyed.
âMiles,â You gasp, wheezing as a few overwhelmed tears spill over onto your cheeks. âMiles, itâs too much, too much-â
âYou can take it.â 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. âFuck,â You wail, long and drawn out, âI canât, I canât-â
He laughs, so mean, the sound rumbling into your cunt and making you whine. He doesnât 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 theyâre pressed up tight against your thighs, no doubt eagerly taking in all the pitiful little gasps and whines spilling from your lips.
âMiles, Miles, oh, fuck, Miles-â You babble senselessly, your eyes squeezing shut tight as you rock mindlessly against his face.Â
âWhiny bitch,â He says, turning his head to bite at the soft pudge of your thigh. He sounds fond. âAll that cryinâ about not being able to take it, but look at you go.â
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. Quaritchâs tongue is absolutely relentless, his mouth sealing over your clit as his hand coasts over your ass.Â
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 Quaritchâs vicious mouth and probing fingers â you donât even know if you want to.Â
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.Â
It's so much. Itâs too much. Youâre sobbing and begging, although for what youâre not sure, since youâre asking Quaritch for more just as often as youâre asking him to stop. Heâs added another finger by now, sucking hard on your clit as he fingers you until your eyes are rolling.
You donât even know half of the shit thatâs coming out of your mouth right now; itâs 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 youâre sure youâre 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 donât stop; you come so hard that it practically bursts out of you, squirting all over his fingers and his chest.
âHoly fuck,â Quaritch says, surprised for a moment before he melts into a laugh. âOh, fuck, look at you go, kid, Jesus Christââ
Youâre 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 youâre able to recognise the hungry, awestruck look on his face.
âOh, god,â You choke out hoarsely, your words coming out on a wheeze. âOh my god, Iâm so sorry, I didnâtâ Iâve neverââ
Quaritch doesnât 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 heâs crawling over you, big and imposing as his broad shoulders and muscular chest loom over you.
âThe fuck are you apologising for?â He grunts, knocking your thighs aside so he can settle the bulk of his body into the cradle between your legs. âJesusâ câmere, can you take me?â
You blink hazily, glancing down to see that heâs 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. Youâve gotten so used to taking the girth of him that now you find yourself craving that beautiful sensation of fullness he always gives you.
âYes,â You gasp, spreading your thighs wider. âYes, I can take you.â
Thatâs 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.
âAtta girl,â 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. âFuck, youâve gotten so good at this.â
Itâs true â 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. Youâre 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. Youâve 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.
âShit, mama,â He groans, baring his teeth against your shoulder. âFuck, thatâs it. Oh, youâd be fucking wasted on one of those dickless little science majors, you know that? That little shit wouldnât have the first idea how to handle you. You think youâd be satisfied with him?â
âNo!â You sob, clenching up around Quaritchâs cock hard.
You hardly know which way is up, never mind who heâs talking about, as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you back and forth over his dick like youâre a goddamn doll. Being used like this, as though you weigh nothing, is so much hotter than you ever could have imagined. If you werenât 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 youâre being fucked like this. You know that soft, breathy sort of moans are being driven out of you with every roll of Quaritchâs hips, soft little uh uh uh uh's, but you donât have the presence of mind to regulate yourself.
Quaritch doesnât 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 heâs coming with a snarled roar. To your surprise, he doesnât come inside like he usually does.
Instead he pulls out, fists his cock, and spills his load all over your bare stomach. Thereâs 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 donât complain; you can barely even form a coherent thought other than the quiet complaint you murmur because you feel so empty now.
Thereâs a beat of silence, and then Quaritch lowers himself down so that his chest is pressed to your naked breasts. Heâs careful not to crush you, pushing his face into your throat and inhaling deeply before pressing a clumsy kiss to your temple.Â
Youâre still reeling, eyes unfocused and mind hazy and stupid as you turn your head and push your face into his chest. Heâs 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. Youâre so comfortable, all loose and floaty and so, so satisfied, the thought of moving doesnât 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.
âFuck,â He grunts as he buttons up his trousers single-handedly. âI needed that. Missed you when I was out there in the jungle. Been thinking about that for weeks now.â
You let out an absentminded grunt, just to show you're listening. Youâre still laying limp against his chest, turning your face into cushions of his pecs.
Quaritch laughs, clearly pleased with the job heâs 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.
âCâmon,â He grunts, pushing himself up. His grip on you loosens, and you slip bonelessly down to the floor. âUp and at âem.â
âWhat?â 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 youâve 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.
âLet's go get you some dinner.â He says, stretching his back. Something cracks in his spine and he moans in satisfaction. âYouâve been feeling neglected, yeah? Iâll get you some food.â
Thatâs not what you had meant by feeling neglected, and you roll your eyes and huff. Youâre still laying completely nude on the floor, and you turn your face away from him. Heâs still standing over you, hands on his hips as he waits for you to stand. When it becomes clear that youâre not going to be getting up any time soon, he clicks his tongue impatiently.Â
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 doesnât immediately move to steady you â when you glance up, you find him watching you with a poorly hidden smirk, clearly pleased with himself.
âWhy canât we rest for a damn minute?â You complain, reaching to hold tight to his arm as your legs tremble. âFuck.â
Quaritch just snorts, watching you intently as your knees shake. âQuit the whining, princess. Iâm doing something nice. There ainât no fancy restaurants around here, in case you havenât noticed. Iâll bring you to the commissary and get you food on my meal ticket â next best thing.â
There must be something seriously wrong with you, because you find yourself blushing over that.
âI have come all over me.â 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.
âMm.â He hums, rolling his shoulders as his eyes rove over your naked body. âSo? Iâve got your squirt all over my face.â
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. Heâs a master of missing the point, and you suspect that he does it on purpose.
âWe have to clean up before we go anywhere. I need a shower.â 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.
Youâre 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.
âNah,â He murmurs, his expression relaxing in a smirk of pure self-satisfaction. âYou can take a shower later. Câmon â letâs get you that food.â
Youâre still flushed and embarrassed as you wriggle your way back into your dress. You already know that youâre going to give in and do whatever he wants, but youâre still feeling argumentative and you donât want to relent so easily.
âI donât have any underwear.â You complain, tilting your head back to look at him. âYou tore mine up-â
âYou donât need them,â He grunts dismissively, leaning against your desk as he watches you pull your dress into place. âNo one else is gonna be looking up your skirt, anyway.â
You keep arguing anyway, even as he attempts to herd you towards the laboratory door. âCanât we wait a little longer? I donât 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 hereââ
âTheyâll know whether you wait a few minutes or not,â Quaritch says bluntly. âBesides, some of them probably need to learn by seeing.â
âLearn whatââ 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.
âOh my god,â You whisper, your tone nothing short of revelatory. âYou want them to see me like this. You want Geiszler to see me like this.â
He just grunts as though heâs 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 youâre not going to let it go because he sighs through his nose and turns his amber eyes back on you.
âSo?â He challenges, his eyebrows raising. âHe 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.â
âOh my god,â You complain, but youâre flushed hot and embarrassed. âYouâre disgusting.â
He just grunts, and makes no attempt to argue. In fact he seems to agree judging by the stupid smirk on his face.
âCome on,â He says simply, âAfter food, you can curl up in your bed and vegetate for as long as you like, how âbout that?â
You squint up at him. âWith you?â
Quaritch rolls his eyes as though exasperated with your clinginess, but youâre not blind â 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. Itâs the gentlest thing heâs done all evening, and youâre left mollified and silent as he smooths back some of your hair that had been messed up during your activities.
âYeah, kid,â He mutters, âWith me, if you want.â
A stupid, dopey smile breaks out on your face, impossible to repress.Â
âYouâre so stupid.â You sigh, though your silly grin softens the sting of your words. âI just squirted all over your face â of course I wanna cuddle with you later.â
âWatch that mouth.â Quaritch warns, but his ears twitch and you can tell that heâs 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.
this is the realest thing ive seen on tumblr gn
That one fic thatâs so out of character that it makes you hate your favorite character
I LOVED THIS SOSOSOSO MUCH!!! <33333
Pairing: AgedUp!Neteyam & Fem!Human!Reader
Summary: An evening alone with Neteyam has him observing your physical differences. Somehow the topic of conversation leads elsewhere, to more personal and... complicated matters.
Genre/info: light angst, fluff, romance, friends to lovers (or mates), reader can breathe Pandora's air through an experiment (not elaborated lol), location is Pandora Forest, tail shenanigans.
WC: 2.5k | Main Masterlist
Word bank: tawtute - human/skyperson, yawne - beloved, palulukan - thanator (cat-like beast that attacks jake in beginning of first movie), tsaheylu - bond or neural connection that Na'vi form with the flora and fauna of Pandora through their kuru/queue. Also, a powerful bond shared between mates, yawntutsyĂŹp - darling/little loved one, oel ngati kameie - I see you
Tw: mentions of bearing children, human/na'vi romantic relationship, suggestive themes (it's so brief though), kissing, crying, reader being insecure and self-doubting, use of petnames/terms of endearment, use of 'y/n' (lmk if I missed anything)
A/n: hello!! I wrote this on a whim. I was reading a romance novel and got inspired. I hope you enjoy friends <33
âYour teeth are so-â Neteyam narrows those blazing, scrutinizing eyes down at you.Â
Your back presses harder against the bark of a tree five times bigger than your human body. Itâs still damp from the rain that fell last night, and you feel its wetness seep into your shirt. The large Naâvi is bent in front of you, squatting down with the sinewy muscle of his legs pressing gently onto your sides. Youâre trapped between him and the tree as one large palm presses on the velvety moss next to your head. The other lifts to your face.Â
âSoâŠÂ  blunt. How do you humans eat your food?â While he is curious, he hasnât overstepped any of your boundaries, save for that of personal space. Not that you care much about that boundary when it comes to him.Â
But heâs so, so close. You can feel the heat emanating from his lithe body and smell the dewdrops of Pandoraâs Forest on his skin. It leaves a spicy current that drips off him and slips down your throat until you are drunk off his proximity. Itâs ludicrous, to feel and think this way about an entirely different species. But your heart and mind seem to be two different entities when it comes to Neteyam. Itâd be folly to try and convince your heart to feel anything other than the affection you hold for him.Â
âWell,â you look at the woven green canopy above you if only to escape his imploring face that sets your nerves on fire, âWe do a lot of chewing, but I suspect our meat is not nearly as tough as that of the creatures here.â You look back at him, immediately drawn to the curling of his tail behind him. It almost looks⊠flirtatious in its movements. But youâre no fool. Heâs simply curious about your differences, nothing more. He says nothing, expression betraying none of his thoughts. It doesnât surprise you.Â
Neteyam has always been hard to read, ever the dutiful and protective son of the Oloâeyktan. Heâs always polite, wise in his composure, and never caught slipping away from what was expected of him.Â
Except for when he was alone with you.Â
âShow me once more, tawtute.â (human)Â Sky Person. On most other Naâvi, no matter how congenial, that word would be an insult spitted out. With him, a dull ache forms in your chest, like a flower sprouting from a stem for the first time. Like growing pains. You oblige, tilting up and opening your mouth to bare your teeth for the eldest son.Â
You observe his eyes, how they glint in the dulling light of day like a sun more beautiful than youâve ever witnessed on earth or Pandora. A soft smile paints his carved features, softening the intensity of their strength into something endearing. A slender, strong finger reaches up to run over the points of your canine. You donât have to fake the way your lips stretch in an amused smile. He looks like a little kid playing with a new toy. Another curl of his tail, and this time you startle as it wraps around your ankle.Â
âI donât think I shall ever⊠get used to them.â That has your brows cinching together, tight lines forming between them.Â
âWhy would you have to get used to them, Neteyam? Our time together is limited.â An unspoken weight lowers on your shoulders like a suffocating blanket in the heat of midday. Youâre simply biding your time on Pandora, as one of the few humans allowed to stay after the war. You donât belong here, but you donât belong on earth either. Pandora is the only home youâve ever known. You may be able to breathe its air due to an experiment run on you as a child, but that doesnât mean you can claim this world as your home or habitat.Â
His finger stills on your tooth, leaving it to drift over the flesh of your bottom lip. His eyes are distant as he looks at your mouth. You try not to audibly gasp when his thumb replaces his finger on your lip while he encases the side of your face in his big, warm palm.Â
âI had wished to tell you this another wayâŠâ a soft sigh brushes over your cheek. When had he gotten so close? Close enough for you to feel the humidity of his breath on your face. You blink, trying to keep your thoughts from dulling into static. âA better way.â You try not to lean into his hand, but itâs so inviting. So tender despite the roughness of his skin, toughened from years of a warrior's trade. Hunterâs hands.Â
âTell me what?â The breath in your voice is thin, barely there. His knees lower, sinking into the soft dirt beside your feet as he sits down, a look of defeat washing over his features.Â
Such a rare sight, you almost feel as if you should look away, unworthy of seeing his strength reduced to naught but desperation.
âYou are my mate.â Those four words are not what you expected to hear, not in this lifetime. Your mouth opens, eyes wide with disbelief at the confession.Â
âWhat?â You ask. It cannot be true. Thereâs no plausible way anyone of his kind could be mated to a human. What of tsaheylu and the bond? You could not share that with him, could not give that to him. Not to mention the size difference and the implausibility of bearing children. You fear itâd be more a sacrifice for him than anything else.Â
âIt is true.â His tail coils tighter on your ankle. If you werenât leaning against the back of a tree, your body wouldâve leaned away from his forehead that now presses onto yours. Not from anything but your insecurity. The flat of his sloped nose pressed against yours and your head meets the tree from the impact. Heâs panting hot air that trails goosebumps over your neck and arms. His eyes are closed, but yours remain open, still disbelieving that this is real. âIt has always been true, yawne.â (beloved)Â
You arenât an expert with the language of his people, but that word you know. Had heard it whispered between couples in the shadows. In moments sacred between two lovers no matter their age. The first time you asked Kiri about its meaning, you couldnât stop imagining what it might be like to hear it spoken from Neteyamâs lips to you. The thought plagued your dreams for months after.Â
Now, heâs here, on his knees before you, eyes closed and whispering it across your skin. Your fingers dig into the bark behind you, gripping it with fervor to keep you upright.Â
âIt canât be true.â You wish you could accept it without thought. Without doubt. But it all seems so sorrowful. How would this union ever rightfully work? Just the possibility of him claiming you as a mate would bring shame to his image within the clan. You would defile his righteous standing amongst the village. He needs someone strong like him, not someone weak and unable to fend for themselves on Pandora. Not someone like you. âNeteyam I am nothing but a hindrance to you.â
He pulls away and you regret uttering those words. A fury more powerful than your doubt blazes on his face, tightening the once relaxed features into something formidable. The hand cradling you moved, grasping at your jaw to tilt your face upward. Closer to him, to look into his eyes. The gesture was one of subtle authority. It had you keening, hyper-aware of every change in his expression.Â
âYou may do many things in my presence, y/n,â you swallow briny air at the tempest in his eyes, âBut you will never demean yourself.â His words zip through you like a warm current of lightning, setting everything in its wake ablaze.Â
âI only meant thaâ'' he cuts you off with a shake of his head.Â
âI know what you meant,â his hand loosens, not that his grip was ever tight, and drifts to run over your jaw, âI donât care.â He states. This thumb feels the delicate skin over your pulse, which is rapidly erratic. âI choose you.âÂ
Say it back, say it back, say it back. You want so desperately to say it back. Perhaps he can see your internal battle. He does nothing but waits patiently for you to respond, with no panic or wavering noticeable. Neteyam is calm where you are everything but. The iridescent freckles on his nose and forehead are all you can seem to look at as you voice your thoughts.Â
âHowâ,â heat claws into you like a palulukan as you fumble, âHow would we even work?â Your connotations are lost on him until you cast a glance over the taut length of his body. Cords of hardened, steely muscles wind around and give way to nothing but solidity. Would physicalâŠÂ  companionship even be possible between you two? You doubt it.
Neteyam lowers his head causing a few inky braids to fall and frame the sides of his face. Some dance over his eyes that are scouring every part of your body. They drift from your feet, all the way up your body. The concern etched on his face is not lost on you. His eyes pivot, suddenly boring into your own without moving his head. Shadows twist onto his face, contorting what was once a kind expression to something altogether unknown to you. Something that trespasses the boundaries of platonic friendship and has fire licking every inch of you.Â
âIt would work.â You blink rapidly, overcome with nerves. Thereâs a sudden dryness in your mouth and eyes. Your head is floaty, your throat feeling stuffed with cotton as you attempt to push away the implication of his statement. âWe would work.â He is so sure with his words that you let it go even though you still hold caution.Â
âNeteyam, Iââ your throat swells like a balloon. Iâm not good enough for you. âI have nothing to give you, donât you see?â Boiling water pools at your eyelids like acid. You try to blink them away, to will them into submission. But it doesnât work. Not with how heâs looking at you, raw and unfiltered. So different from how he is with everyone else. Here he is not the golden child, the perfect son, and the protective older sibling. Here he is just Neteyam, your Neteyam. âI cannot, Iââ You canât finish your sentence.Â
Your hands raise to your face, covering it so he wouldnât see you cry. Cracked open and raw, like an egg spilling onto the floor without its shell to protect it. Youâre oozing everywhere. Your body startled at the feeling of two hands cupping your head, encasing it wholly.Â
âYawntutsyĂŹp? (darling, little loved one).  Please, show me your face.â A sniffle, then you pull your hands away and wipe your eyes. Neteyam coaxes you from your shell, tilting your head to face him fully. Only till you meet his eyes that gleam in the fading light does he continue. âListen to me very carefully.â A stern request, to which you nod quietly.Â
âYou do not need to give me anything, yawne (beloved). Your worth to me is not measured by what I receive from you.â Air coats your lungs like ice water at your gasp. No one had ever said that to you. It never occurred that you were basing your worth on that reasoning. âI choose you for no other reason than my love for youâŠâ two thumbs rub over the delicate skin of your under eyes, drying the wetness there, âThis is something that will never change, y/n, I See you.âÂ
His breath is on your cheeks once more, that spiced scent he emanates overwhelms you like poison. It seeps into your bloodstream, intoxicating you till you think of nothing other than Neteyam, Neteyam, Neteyam, Neteyam. Itâs not until his eyes drift down to your chest that you realize you are panting, whether from disbelief or exhilaration is unclear.Â
All the doubt scatters away when he looks back at you. The sincerity on his face is startling. It flutters over you like the warmth of the sun and chases away any shadows so that all you see is the possibility that is before you. Being Neteyamâs mate, his chosen one for life.Â
âOel ngati kameie (I see you), Neteyam.â The confession is thin. Years of pining, affectionate memories, and stolen dreams are woven into your words. He smiles, full and broad at you speaking in his mother tongue.Â
The thing about doubt is that it will always be there, available to steal your attention with its greedy talons. But it is a choice, to hold onto it. To pick it up.
Youâd much rather be here, held in the strong palms of your lover Neteyam than in the embrace of an emotion that leaves you hollow and half of who you truly are.Â
Neteyam has chosen you. You have chosen him back. At the end of the day, that is all that matters. Not the implausibility of your relationship or the uncertainties of the future. You could face those monsters later when they decide to cross your path. But right now, he is here. You are here with him. You are together.Â
He leans forward, for a kiss you think, and your eyelids close in reflex. You bask in the heat of his hands, how they melt into you like a second skin. Like you were born to be held by him and he was made to hold you. Wetness presses on your forehead. A kiss, passionate and heady from its sincerity. The same sensation greets your brow bone, your nose, each eyelid, both your cheeks, your jaw, the corner of your chin, and the juncture of your neck. He kisses away all semblance of lucidity until you are dripping with unhinged insanity that only he could bear witness to. The muscles of your legs have numbed like the circulation was cut off and instead populated entirely in your chest, neck, and lower stomach. You donât know where he begins and you end. Not that it matters much. Not that you care.Â
Then, he kisses you on the lips. Itâs slow, tender. Makes you ache everywhere but most of all your heart. You kiss him back, desperation and gratitude coating your tongue. Neteyam drinks what you give him like he hasnât drank in years. Like you are the only source of hydration within a thousand miles.Â
You donât say anything when he finally pulls away. Not that words wouldâve visited you then. He just looks at you, into you and you do the same. Observing the pattern of stripes on his face, hoping that soon youâd get to trace them with your fingertips. And the way his freckles glow like little stars, illuminating the desire thatâs coursing through his veins for you. He pulls you close, till you stand between his kneeling legs and fall into everything that he is.
He hugs and embraces you for an unspecified amount of time. You melt into him, the weight lifting from your chest until you are liberated. Until you can breathe again.
a/n: I hope you enjoyed this. Sending you all much love <3