Latest Posts by bakersbucky - Page 3

me fr

ok I need you guys to stop being horndogs and start writing some angst to fluff

GOOD LORDDDD.... LOVED THIS <333

──miguel o'hara nsfw headcanons. ୨୧ part two.

ʚ 🗯 ɞ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꓹ 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏 .ᐟ 𓏧 463 wc. afab!reader. sub!miguel. soft, service!dom miguel. praise. marking ( bites , hickies ). mild possessive behavior. oral ( r!receiving ). size k. titty sucking. face sitting. breeding k. fingering. daddy k.

꒰ 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒚 ୨୧ ── goshhh .. 'm soso in love with this man !!! the obsession has been rotting mye brain u_u submissive miggy , my beloved 💭🐑 send asks to fuel mye insane obsession ( > < 🦑 ) 〜 ♡ ( please reblog mwy work if yuu enjoy it ! )

𔘓 miguel is a surprisingly submissive. he folds instantly the moment you show any hint of dominance. the man is so eager to please, so eager to be good and give you anything you want.

𔘓 he makes sure you're constantly marked up. hickies and bites constantly litter your neck. very rarely do you leave the house without his possessive claim.

𔘓 miguel is a pussy eating champ. he eats you out like a man starved, growling and humping the bed while devouring your sopping cunt. he's messy about it too ; slobbering and spitting. if he could, he'd definitely eat you out 24/7.

𔘓 when he is more dominant, he's more of a soft service dom. he's not one for degrading you, instead getting off on praising every little thing about you. he'll fuck you hard while mumbling how much he loves you, how pretty and perfect you are. sometimes in english, sometimes in spanish.

𔘓 he's an absolute sucker for your size difference, especially if you're significantly smaller than him. loves gently manhandling you, moving your body into all sorts of positions.

𔘓 major titty sucker. small titties? big titties? doesn't matter, miguel is gonna suck on them.

𔘓 he has a preference for slow, passionate sex. holding you close, grinding into you, kissing you and telling you just how precious you are to him.

𔘓 sit. on. his. face. suffocate him, ride his face with no care for his ability to breathe. he wants to be absolutely smothered by your throbbing cunt.

𔘓 you already know this man is packing. both long and thick, pretty veins all over. he has quite thick hair down there, but he keeps it neatly trimmed.

𔘓 miguel cums like crazy and loves cumming inside of you. you're always left dripping his release from your puffy, used cunt.

𔘓 he loves to finger you. he could spend hours with you sat between his legs, fingering you through multiple orgasms. miguel really likes to thoroughly stretch you around his fingers before he fucks you.

𔘓 praise him !!! it makes his eyes flutter and gets him so needy for you. he'd really do anything just for a second of praise.

𔘓 pull his hair and you'll have him seeing stars. pull it while he eats you out or while riding him and he'll cum almost instantly.

𔘓 he has a major daddy kink. he goes absolutely feral whenever you call him it. whether it be during sex or in an everyday setting, it never fails to get the man thrumming with the desire to breed you.

𔘓 miguel can be pretty vocal. growls and groans ; sometimes moans, whines, and whimpers when he's really worked up. he makes sure you know just how good you're making him feel.

　 　 　 　 　 ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪

© 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒖𝒓 ｡

UOU ATE THIS UPPP OH MY GOD IM OBSESSED. more blaise fics please 🤭🤭🤭💘💘

Love, Anonymous | Blaise Zabini

Synopsis: The rumor mill at Hogwarts has expanded into physical print, and with it, a buzzing section dedicated to anonymous confessions. 

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Hufflepuff!Reader

Notes: I accidentally grew extremely fond of Ernie while writing this. Susan Bones supremacy, always.

Word Count: 4.8k

The infamous rumor mill of Hogwarts, upheld by boisterous Gryffindors Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, seemed to finally reach eminence in the social sphere of the castle. It was a long time coming, you thought. Grapevines. Heard from a friend. Through an open door — nothing was as fascinating as the arbitrary spiel that grew to fruition in the rumor mill. 

“I’m impressed. With all of this, you’d think Lavender was going after Skeeter’s job.” Susan hums, eyes scanning over the leaflets of paper lain strewn in front of you both. 

Ernie snorts as he shovels a spoonful of peas into his mouth, eyes rooted to the ceiling as he awaited the daily post, “What a load of bollocks.” 

“Hey, now. Don’t be so curt with it, E.” You muse, mouth folding into a wry grin as you pick up one of the loose papers, bringing it to eye-level so you could read it, “Look at this riveting slice of writing, Hogwarts Anonymous: With the Yule Ball so fresh in the minds of the student body–” 

“Fresh? It was almost three bloody years ago.” Ernie interjects, tongue clicking loudly as the sea of owls begin to scurry across the plane of the ceiling, dropping rolls and boxes of news and gifts. However, the surge of mail went largely ignored as many students remained engrossed in the new Hogwarts gossip column. 

You shoot Ernie a stern look at the interruption, but continue when Susan releases an amused huff, “As I was saying—With the Yule Ball so fresh in the minds of the student body and love so sorely missed as a result, Hogwarts Anonymous is dedicated to working towards the revival of matchmaking. To submit an anonymous clip of your own, reach out to Parvati Patil for inquiries.” 

“Love so sorely missed?” Susan echoes, eyes blown wide in disbelief. 

“Poetic. Inspired. Riveting. Ingenious.” Ernie utters with faux sincerity, ignoring the raucous younger years fighting behind him. 

You nod, barely able to conceal your grin as your eyes drop further down the blocks of text, seeing a few confessions and messages splayed across the paper. As you continue to read through the text, a sudden passage has you choking on your spit, thumb pressing harshly against the flimsy paper as your eyes narrow. 

Ernie peers up at you from his plate, glancing towards Susan as they both share unimpressed looks. Eventually, it’s Susan who plucks up the voice to question your sudden bafflement, “Y/N? Are you alright there?” 

“Y/N looks like a startled crup puppy in Arithmancy.” You recite rigidly, feeling the paper warp and crease under your unrelenting grip. 

There is an unsettling pause in the atmosphere, as though the entirety of the dining hall has paused in their routine to listen to the confession, but it soon washes away as Ernie practically howls in laughter, his broad frame throttling forward as he tries to muffle his guffaw. 

Susan, ever the diplomat, proves to be more successful at maintaining her composure, but you don’t miss the small grin that tugs at her lips as she reaches over to grasp the paper, “Here, give me that.” 

“Crup puppy? Oh my goodness! That is bloody—Ow! Hey! Okay, stop!” Ernie’s fit of laughter and verbal tirade is swiftly dealt with as you send numerous stinging hexes his way, basking in the alarmed glint in his eyes. 

Susan shakes her head at both of your antics, and folds the paper up, eyes scanning the room as she muses, “How romantic. You just have to wonder who the culprit is.” 

“Merlin. It might just be a prank. Or maybe someone has a vendetta against me.” You groan with exasperation, realizing that just about everyone in the castle was going to be hearing about it. 

Ernie bumps his shoulder against yours and grins, “Chin up, Y/N. If someone’s out to get ya, Susan and I will send them to their maker—without their kneecaps, rest assured.” 

You roll your eyes but nod in appreciation, gaze falling down to your pitiful plate of food as your mind is thrust into overdrive. Hopefully, it would all blow over by the next day. 

Wishful thinking on your part because in fact, it did not. 

“It is endearing how Y/N is always lost during Potions.” Susan reads off the paper with squinted eyes, mouth furling into a frown of disbelief at the words. 

“Does this person hate me?” You murmur, leaning on your elbows as your eyes run across the aisle of bookshelves in front of you. 

Ernie rocks on the heels of his feet as he hums, “Abysmal flirting. Subpar, one-sided banter. Hardly charming. A Gryffindor, for sure.” 

“Well, the only Gryffindor in both Arithmancy with me and Potions with us is Hermione Granger, and I surely hope she hasn’t turned away from Ron. He’ll be insufferable if so.” You grit out, torn between chasing down your secret “admirer” and putting forth your best effort to ignore their future comments.  

Susan hums at your suggestion with crossed arms, Runes homework long forgotten about, “Surely not. So not a Gryffindor— and really Ernie, you can’t let your heartache blind your judgement! Seriously, are we sticking with the ‘All Gryffindors Are Bad’ thing?” 

Ernie gapes at her words and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Guys, I’m over her, we’ve been through this.” 

You pat your friends arm empathetically, hiding your sly grin as you muse, “Of course you are. Poor Fay Dunbar, really.”

Before your friend can retort, the sound of clicking footsteps attracts your attention as a figure emerges from behind the shelf next to you. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch the familiar Slytherin stroll towards you all with cool eyes, hands shoved in his dress pants as he hums, “Bones. Macmillan.” His eyes drop down to where you’re seated and you see an indecipherable glint cross his gaze as he greets you, “Puppy.”

Your reaction is almost immediate as a hot wave of mortification swallows all your sensibilities, “Excuse me?” Your offended wheeze hardly deters the Slytherin as he merely smirks at you. 

“I think your time would be better spent working through the latest Arithmancy assignment instead of gossiping, no?” He asks with a slanted grin, eyes never trailing away from yours. 

“What’s it to you, Zabini?” Your voice comes out taut as you feel Ernie place a hand on the back of your chair, likely eyeing down the boy in front of you. 

Blaise’s eyes briefly flicker to survey Ernie’s ministrations before they glide back to you in consideration, “Just concerned for a fellow classmate is all. I’ll see you around, Puppy.” Without giving you time to retaliate, the tall Slytherin vanishes just as swiftly as he arrived. 

“The absolute nerve!” You utter with indignation, swiveling your attention over to Susan. The girl frowns in the direction that Blaise disappeared through, eyes glimmering as you could see her brain whirring. 

“Strange. I thought Zabini was one of the tamer Slytherins out of their lot.” Ernie mutters, resuming his position beside you as he rubs his chin. 

You shake your head, “Malfoy’s influence is something to fear for years to come. Zabini may have been pleasant in our youth, but he’s been so shifty to me as of late.” 

Ernie snaps his fingers at your words and snickers down at you, “You used to have the largest love-sick eyes for him.” 

Clicking your tongue, you send a side glance at your friend before looking at Susan as she seems to take in your clueless expression. 

“Seriously?” She huffs, eyebrow drawn up as she gazes at you both like she was staring at a pedestrian display. 

“Seriously what? Suze?” You prod, leaning over as she shakes her head and redirects her attention to her work. 

Ernie shoots you a shrug as he pulls out the chair beside you, reluctantly following the girl’s lead as he sifts through the pile of parchments in front of him. 

The next few days blur by in a similar fashion, except you had taken to avoiding Hogwarts Anonymous like the plague, forcing Ernie and Susan to do the same when you were around. You eventually fell back into your routine of focusing on coursework and your future anxieties, letting the anomalous events slip from your mind. 

It is not until you’re organizing your supplies during Arithmancy that your fragile bubble of peace is disturbed. 

“Puppy.” The dulcet sound of Blaise’s voice has you snapping your head up, boggled by his sudden appearance beside you. The boy usually sat rows behind you, leaving the spot next to you to be occupied by Padma Patil. However, it seemed she was nowhere to be found. 

Suppressing your complaints, you don’t even attempt pleasantries as you sigh, “Zabini, hello.” 

“What’s with the long face? Not happy to see me?” Blaise teases, mouth stretching into a small grin. 

You’re almost tempted to squint as his perfectly white teeth glare at you in all their glory. Fuck. Did he not have a single flaw?

“I’m flattered, but perhaps the only thing I’m unable to do is catch you on a good day.” Blaise’s eyes twinkle with mirth as he smiles softly at you. 

Your face heats up so violently that you’re sure radiators across the globe were turning to you with envy. Forcing your jaw from parting so gauchely, you can only sputter out weakly, “Did I say that out loud?” 

Blaise hums wordlessly as he continues to look at you. Clearing your throat, you turn back to face the front of the classroom as Professor Vector begins to rise from her desk, “Right.” 

The rest of the class seems to tick by like molasses from a tipped jar: incredibly, painstakingly slow. You were usually quite engaged with the lesson and content, but you couldn’t ignore the occasional glances from the Italian boy beside you. 

As you absentmindedly continue to scrawl on your parchment, eyes transfixed on the swirls of ink blooming on the page, you feel something poke your arm. Frowning, you try to ignore it, directing your full attention onto sketching your diagram. 

The light poking persists until you bring your other hand up to swipe at your robe, fingers dancing across a sheet of paper with a slight crinkling noise. Faintly tilting your head, you furrow your eyebrows when you see Blaise attempting to slide a sheet of paper towards you. Slowly grasping the paper, you lay it atop one of your dry parchments, eyes scanning across the leaflet in confusion. 

‘Hogwarts Anonymous. Submission 0128: Y/N L/N is devastatingly oblivious. It really is quite cute.’

You feel your entire body steel up at the words, lips parted from shock as you continue to reread the confession. The nerves across your body seem to buzz wildly as you try and rein in the burning climbing up your chest. 

“Alright, dears! That will be all for today. I expect the next two chapters to be read by our next convening. Ah, and L/N, my dear! I need to speak with you.”  Professor Vector’s euphonic voice cut through your haze of disbelief, drawing your eyes away from the dizzying passage and up towards the heart of the classroom. 

You don’t dare to glance at Blaise as you quickly clamber towards the awaiting woman, weaving around the retreating students that file through the grand doors. Huffing to relieve the pressure in your chest, you peer at the woman in anticipation as you finally step toward her. 

“Sorry to call you up like this, L/N. It’s just that the other professors and I are concerned about the recent articles that are being passed around the student body. It’s come to our attention that these anonymous confessions regarding you are quite prolific.” Professor Vector keeps her voice steady as she gazes at you with warm eyes, evidently trying to gauge your honest opinion on the matter. 

It would appear that everyone knew about your predicament. 

You shake your head quickly, eyes wandering towards the tomes resting on her desk, “It’s quite alright, they’re just small statements. Besides, no one has been giving me a hard time.” Which was partially true, but you also did not want the column to be shut down and run the risk of facing Lavender’s wrath. 

“If you’re quite sure, dear.” 

With a soft nod, you send a small smile towards her before bounding back towards your table, releasing a small breath as you see the rest of the classroom was vacant. As you slung your bag over your shoulder, the call of your name has you twirling on your heel. 

“L/N.” Professor Vector gives you a faint nod, “You’re doing quite well in this class. I’m sure whoever is sending those messages is just teasing you.” 

Clearing your throat, you plaster on a reassuring smile, “Thank you, Professor. Have a good afternoon!” 

You practically sprint out of the classroom, mind set on nipping the blooms of your troubles—starting with the roots. 

The clicking of your shoes against the dusty corridor tiles seem to smother every other inkling of noise, many students shifting from your path with wide-eyes as your gaze darts around furiously. Even the slightest hue of crimson drew your dutiful eyes like a moth to a flame, and you were beginning to get tunnel vision. 

A flash of wispy blonde waves flashes across your plane of sight, and you’re immediately beelining towards the girl, a victorious smile painting your face once you see Lavender’s startled frown. The girl glances from side-to-side as you draw closer, shoulders tensing once you tentatively stop a few paces before her. 

“Lavender, good afternoon.” You greet cordially, fingers lightly brushing against your sides as you become wary of your awkward hand placement.  

The girl nods and shoots you a confused smile, “Hi, Y/N. What’s up?” 

“I think we both know why I’m here.” You mutter frankly, head tilting down emphatically as you take notice of the latest edition of Hogwarts Anonymous in her hands. 

Lavender glances down at the paper and hums, “Ah. Right.” 

Sighing, you readjust the strap of your bag as you step closer, “Look, I’m not here to give you any grief over your work. In fact, Hogwarts Anonymous is probably the most exciting thing to happen all year. But, I need to know the person behind all these messages aimed at me.” 

“I’m sorry, but confidentiality–” Lavender starts, eyebrows stitching together in remorse at your clear disdain over the matter. 

Before the girl can continue her, no doubt, enlightening spiel about the rules of journalism, a velvety voice curls through the air around you, “Hello, Puppy. What seems to be the fuss.” 

You aren’t sure any measure of propriety could have stopped you from raising your eyes to the sky as you slowly spin on your heel. A frown briefly washes over your face as you address the boy behind you, “Zabini. Again with that nickname? It’s getting quite old. Originality doesn’t seem to be your strong suit.” 

“No use in fixing what isn’t broken. Besides, I’ve never known you to be overly concerned with trivialities like this.” The boy retorts, eyes sparkling with blatant amusement. 

You purse your lips at his choice of words before musing, “That’s because you don’t know me, Zabini.” 

Without missing a beat, Blaise is quick to step closer to you, head craning towards you imperceptibly as he lowers his voice, “I suppose you’re right. I could get to know you though.” 

Your lips part at his words, but you try to remain nonchalant as you huff, “Hysterical. And what’s in it for me?” 

“You’d get to know me, too.” 

“As enticing as that sounds, I’ll have to pass.” You mutter, taking a step back from the boy. His eyes remain firm with confidence even as you begin to retreat, your gaze glued to the growing smirk on his face. 

As your nerves finally seem to spark back to life, you swiftly spin around and begin to stomp towards your common room, brain muddled with harping thoughts about the exchange. Before you’re able to round the corner, you hear Lavender’s soft voice bristle through the air, “Maybe try a different approach…” 

A few odd days pass after your encounter with Blaise, and you’ve taken to gluing yourself to Ernie and Susan in hopes that the Slytherin would be too intimidated to approach you again. Your friends take the new developments in stride, only occasionally shooting you knowing glances. 

“Weird.” Ernie hums, fingers drumming against the grass as he peers at the paper in his lap. 

You don’t take your eyes off of the serene lake just yards away as you reply, “What’s weird?” 

Susan pauses in her reading as Ernie straightens up and turns to you, “There aren’t any more anonymous messages about you in the column.” 

“Seems that you missed your chance with your secret admirer, Y/N.” Susan hums, propping her chin on her palm as she smiles teasingly at you. 

You shake your head and wave them both off, “I talked to Lavender the other day, maybe she intentionally left it out. Either way, I look forward to reinhabiting the semblance of peace that I lost.” 

Ernie hums as he diverts his gaze towards something behind you, “Peace might have to wait.” 

“Y/N.” Blaise’s honeyed voice dances through the cool air, accompanied with the soft crunching of grass as you sense the boy approach your lazing figure. 

“Blaise.” You greet evenly, eyes slowly drifting across the tufts of clouds meandering across the sky. 

Susan and Ernie pretend to busy themselves as the Slytherin stops behind you, close enough where the edges of his robe lightly graze against your back. It is quiet for a few moments before the boy addresses you again, “Have you given my offer any further thought?” 

“I can’t say I have.” You mutter, slowly fidgeting with your wand as you add, “Do you want me to?” 

The Italian huffs out a small laugh before you hear a faint rustling, “That’s entirely up to you.” Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but before you can turn around to question him, a crisp envelope drops into your vision. You feel the curtains of Blaise’s robe swim across your back as he offers the tempting object to you. 

Gently grasping the envelope, you flip it in your palm to inspect the front, but you’re met with shallow disappointment when you see the paper is completely blank. On the back, you recognize the Zabini emblem pressed into the bleeding red wax. 

“Blaise, what is this for?” You slowly peer over your shoulder only to be met with Blaise’s retreating back growing farther into the distance. 

Staring at the envelope with a frown, you debate on whether or not to frisbee-launch the paper into the lake as the wind sweeps across your face. Susan is the first to interrupt the calm silence that blanketed the air, shooting you a knowing smile as she points her chin at the stiff paper, “Open it.” 

“Do you know something about this?” You question with narrowed eyes, tone light with jest, but bleeding in genuine confusion. 

“About the envelope? Nope.” She hums with a sweet smile, quickly swiveling her head back to her book. 

You shuffle closer to your friends, shooting them a disbelieving frown, “And about Blaise?” 

Ernie mimes a zipping motion across his mouth as he shakes his head, which is all you need from the boy to know that both of your friends were privy to something you weren’t seeing. Clicking your tongue with exaggerated indignation, you carefully peel the envelope open, noting that neither of your friends were attempting to peer over to see its contents as you did so.

You didn’t know if you were thankful or concerned for that fact. 

Reaching inside the smooth cradle of paper, your fingers run across a folded piece of paper. Pulling it out, you hesitate for a few moments before deciding to bite the bullet. 

Smooth, even swirls of letters dance across the paper in abundance much to your surprise. 

Y/N, 

Lavender advised me that my previous tactic of trying to get your attention was ineffective, so I should therefore be more forthcoming. I hope you understand now. Although it was entertaining watching you fumble about for answers, I realize that time is slowly dwindling as we progress through our last year here at Hogwarts. 

This is not some ploy if you’re wondering (because I know that you are… really, are you Hufflepuffs not supposed to be the most trusting of us all?) 

I have admired you for quite some time. If you are willing to, let’s meet before dinner. I will be at the library. 

Love, 

“Anonymous” 

You drop the letter into your lap as you sigh into the air, neck aching as you roll your head from side to side. Ernie assesses you from the corner of his eye, head tilting at your reaction, “Well?” 

“Well, I’ll have to meet you both at dinner it seems.” You concede with a heavy sigh, realizing that you were the only one who was drowning in the darkness of oblivion for the past few days. 

Susan nods at you with twinkling eyes as Ernie muses with a wide grin, “Sounds like a plan. Good luck!” 

Pacing away from your friends and up the vague incline of grass, you fiddle with the paper in your hands as you begin to dredge up all your encounters with Blaise. They were plentiful in your youth, but between then and the whirlwind of Hogwarts Anonymous— you could count the number of proper conversations you’ve had with the Slytherin on one hand. 

That’s not to say you still didn't find the boy attractive. There was an unspoken consensus amongst the entire student body that he was the prime candidate for bachelor, between his suave demeanor, dry wit, academic prowess, towering trust fund, and neutral political stance— it did not get much better than Blaise fucking Zabini.

For the first time in weeks, you feel that your head is finally clear. An airy aura encircling you as you traverse through the halls, not minding the bustling of younger students or the perpetual miasma of stress that radiated off of your fellow seventh-year peers.  

At the threshold of the bright library, you take a deep breath of consideration before you step in, an intangible veil of warmth immediately ushering you into its cavernous hold as you sift your gaze through the hunched backs and steep shelves. 

Taking slow steps so as to not remain erect in the entrance and cause traffic, you’re snapped from your concentration by the softest tug to your robe sleeve. Dropping your gaze to the chair beside you, you aren’t able to mask your nonplusness at the sight of a familiar Slytherin searching your expression with curiosity. 

“Oh, hi Theodore.” You wave smally, stepping closer as he begins to speak. 

“Y/N. You’re here for Blaise, right?” The boy’s words are barely above a murmur as he slowly shuts the cover of his book. 

You nod and shift to lean against the table as Theodore begins to look around, only dropping your eyes to him once he speaks up again, “He just came in. He might be toward the back, near the Restricted Section. He doesn’t like being around others when he’s restless.” 

“Oh?” Your eyebrows shoot up at the insinuation, unable to truly comprehend a mental picture of the composed Slytherin as anything but smug and assured. 

Humming, you shift your weight from one leg to the other as you dismiss yourself, “Alright. Thank you, Theodore. I’ll see you around.”

The boy merely nods before turning back to his work, but you don’t miss the glimmer that flickers across his eyes as they quickly catch sight of the letter in your hand— it was the same knowing look that your friends held. 

Shuffling towards the back of the library, you slowly feel the confidence draining from your veins as you near the Restricted Section. Rounding one of the shelves, you stop in your tracks as you catch sight of Blaise sitting at a corner table by the window, robe discarded and flung over the adjacent chair as his eyes run across the book in his hand. 

Clearing your throat faintly, you make your way towards him. Before you’re even within reaching distance to him, his head shoots up toward you. 

His eyes swim with confusion for a split moment before they sink into a familiar unreadable look. 

“I read your letter.” You mutter with uncertainty, squaring your shoulders as Blaise nods and rises from his chair. 

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” He softly admits, lips curling up at the sheepish look that replaces your former expression of hesitancy. Before you have time to reply, he steps forward and chuckles, “Couldn’t wait to see me, then?” 

Swallowing harshly, you hum, “You have a bit of explaining to do.” 

“Yeah, I do.” His voice comes out light, shedding away into a near whisper at the end as he gazes at you with consideration. He takes a step forward and continues, “Before that though, I need to know how you feel.” 

“About you?” Your mumble is met with a firm nod, and you feel your heart miss a few beats as the words seem to just glide out of your mouth without filter, “Well, we haven’t spoken properly all that much this year or last year, but I like you… too. I like you, too.” 

“Yeah?” Blaise hums, shoulders faintly drooping as the tension dissipates from his muscles. He reaches his hand out in offering, and you have to give his face another once-over to confirm that it wasn’t an elaborate ruse before you take it. 

He slowly drags you towards him before nudging you to sit in his chair as he smiles, “Well, I’ll apologize for the public messages, it just seemed like the opportune moment when Lavender approached me.” 

“Lavender approached you?” You quietly squawk, not even batting an eye when Blaise crouches in front of you and brings his other hand to clasp yours. 

“My attraction to you is no secret, Y/N. Not that I tried to hide it.” He supplies, eyes full of warmth as you recount all the indecipherable looks you’d received from Blaise’s friends over the months. Honestly, you had merely assumed they were looking for a fight. 

Squeezing the boy’s hands, and ignoring the tingling that buzzed up your wrist from the coolness of his steel rings, you muse, “So… you like me.” 

“Hm.” Blaise hums patiently, assured by your reciprocation of his physical touch. 

“Well, you’re quite the romantic, Zabini.” You can’t fight the lopsided smile that falls on your face. 

Blaise huffs a small laugh as he shakes his head, “I was thinking you’d hold a contrary sentiment.” 

“You better be planning ways to make it up to me, public scrutiny is not enjoyable.” You mutter with a small grin, relishing in the way Blaise shifted at your words. 

He gives your hands a firm squeeze before he straightens up and leans towards you, “There’s no rush anymore.” 

“Who says? I’m fleeing once we graduate.” Your teasing elicits an eye roll from the boy as he shakes his head. 

Leaning over, he grazes his lips over your forehead as he mutters, “Funny, but no can do, you’re stuck with me.” 

His arms encircle you as he continues to drop light pecks to your face, clearly uncaring of the unconventional crane of his spine as he does so. Bringing a hand up, you place it on his cheek before leaning to join your lips together, acutely aware of how his hands tighten around your frame as he leans in impossibly closer to you. 

Pulling back briefly, you smile as an idea balloons in your thoughts, “I’m going to need to find Lavender later.” 

Blaise’s hands draw circles on your waist as he hums, “Why’s that?” 

“I can’t let you have all the fun, now can I? I have the perfect anonymous submission.” You grin brightly, tugging at his tie to draw him closer. 

His eyebrows slowly raise at your words as he leans in, “Yeah?” 

“Yep. How does ‘Blaise Zabini is a terrible flirt and an even worse snog’ sound?” 

Blaise hums and drags you closer to him as a playful glint blazes across his lidded gaze, “It sounds like I’ll have to change your mind before then.” 

“I agree.” You whisper just as his lips sink against yours again, the faint scent of his cologne swirling around you like a blanket as you lean back against the table. 

And when morning rolls around, bringing clear skies and a new column of Hogwarts Anonymous, you can only shrug your shoulders when Susan practically slams the paper against your face in fervid question. 

‘Hogwarts Anonymous. Submission 0283: Blaise Zabini is an alright snog.’

masterlist

this is the realest thing ive seen on tumblr gn

That one fic that’s so out of character that it makes you hate your favorite character

SCREAMING RN

The F-Word

The F word

Poe Dameron X G/N reader

Rating : T+ 

Wordcount : 6500(ish)

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

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

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

GIF by the lovely Salome-C

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

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

— — — — — —

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're hurt! I need to patch that!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm fine. Just keep shooting."

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

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

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

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

"Poe?" 

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

Shoot. All you had to do was shoot. 

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes ma'am," 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You'll what?"

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

~

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

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

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

"You can kiss me?"

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

"What?"

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

"Why would I do that?" 

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

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

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

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

"It's not looking good, is it?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shush him softly, shaking your head. 

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

You can kiss me?

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

Maker, you missed him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Poe! You're out!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go ask them yourself instead of bothering me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could kiss me?

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

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

Taking a deep breath, you meet his questioning gaze. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, come on."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really I'm fi-" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I?" 

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

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

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

Poe laughs softly and shakes his head.

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

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

He grins, knowing he's been caught out. 

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

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

"But you have to sit on my lap,”

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

----------

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Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Chapter Three

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, ptsd/ flashbacks, profanity, age gap, sexual tension, size difference/kink, praise kink, jealousy, scenting, fingering, recollection of non-con trauma (for the plot), alcohol consumption/drunk character, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Sorry this one took a while, been a hell of a week. It's got a lot of angst, so prep yourselves guysss. Ends with smut, ofc. I hope you guys enjoy 🤍

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

<- Previous Next ->

“Y/n. For the love of Christ, you better tell me that the storm held ya up last night.” Jakes voice rings in your ear, waking you up.

Oh shit.

You look to your left to see the first rays of sunlight shining on Ralak’s sleeping, naked body, chest heaving slowly from his unfaltering breaths. Perched on his side, his face sits in his palm, as if he’s fallen asleep partially sitting up. Two fingers still nestled inside you, his facial muscles are slightly tensed, like he’s ready wake up any minute and tend to your every need, just like he’s been doing all night long. 

“Get your ass home. Now.” Jakes irate voice brings you back to reality.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

What were you going to tell Jake? That the storm did keep you up? He’d never believe that. Not for a second. Either way, if you didn’t go now, this man would skin the love of your life. Unmated, in his bed, all before your second iknimaya? He’d try, at least.

“Sst-ah.” you let out a shaky breath, grimacing as you pull his fingers out of you. They’re covered in your cum, so much so that a thick string of slick connects you to his fingers when you pull your pelvis away. You scramble to your feet, wiping yourself up with the already damp cloth next to his bed.

I’ll be back, my love. You think, looking over at him one last time before rushing out of his marui.

On your way to the cave, you try to assess your state. It’s hard to tell, given the fact that your heart is pounding at a speed only an ikran could attain. Anxiety streams through your veins, but otherwise, you feel fairly normal. Maybe a little bit like you did after your first iknimaya, when you passed your dream hunt and had one too many glow worms. But nothing unmanageable.

Guess it’s over.

Finally arriving at the cave, frantic eyes search the body of water for your loincloth. It’s floating at the far end of the lake, so you dive in. As you’re swimming, you catch a whiff of your own scent, mixed with Ralak’s. You bring your arm to your nose and take a deep breath. “Fuck.” you curse under your breath, submerging your entire body in the water, trying to bathe his scent off you.

You knew you scented each other, but you didn’t know that it would linger this long. You scrub your body, paying extra attention to your chest and neck. Time is going faster than you can move. But it’s like the more you scrub, the more you rub it into your skin – into your essence.

“Forget this.” you huff, grabbing your loincloth and swimming back to sand. You wring it out, slip inside and tie the knot hastily. One last look back on his marui pod, and you’re gone like the wind – quick and silent.

The trek back home is nerve-wracking, you feel so uneasy that you could feel something in your throat. A lump. You swallow repeatedly, trying to get rid of it, but it grows a little bigger for every step you take. By the time you’re at your marui door, you feel like you can’t breathe.

Neteyam smells you first, wreaking of a male na’vi, nose scrunching at the odour. He huffs a harsh breath through his nostrils, attempting to rid the lingering scent from of his lungs. He examines your condition – clammy skin with little colour left in it. Eyes trailing up to your face, he could see the fear written all over it, along with something else. Something like –

“Jesus, what the hell were you thinking?!” Jake hisses through clenched teeth.

“D-dad. I-I can explain.” you stutter, throat so tight you can barely speak.

Jake pulls his head back, eyelids blinking furiously. It’s as if the scent quite literally hit him, square in the jaw. With his suspicions confirmed, his lips stretch into a thin line, his go to expression of disapproval. The type that makes your ears lay flat against your skull, and bottom lip jut out.

“I can smell him on you.” Jake brushes past you. “Stay with your brother.”

“Dad, please.” your voice is strained, fighting against the lump in your throat. “Where are you going?”

He stops dead in his tracks, back still turned to you, a hand flying up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “To Tonowari, kid. Tsireya will teach you from now on.” He heaves a heavy sigh and walks away.

The anxiety quickly morphs into anger, bubbling in your veins and sizzling your skin. Your short fuse blows. How could he take this away from you? You weren’t a ‘kid’ anymore. You had passed your iknimaya back home, and you’re on the brink of passing it here, too. Despite that, he always treats you like this, like the late bloomer you are. He didn’t even care to know what really happened.

“Not a fucking kid!” you shout after him, only for him to shake his head and continue walking.

“Sis.” Neteyam mutters, gently guiding you into the marui pod by your arm.

You shrug him off, storming past him to dive into your bed, burying your face into your pillow – damp from last night’s tears. It only becomes wetter as your fresh tears stream down your face. You couldn’t help it, you cried whenever you felt overwhelmed with anything. Sadness. Happiness. Anger. Frustration.

The sound of your privacy curtain being drawn back snaps your head up from your pillow. It’s Neteyam, standing over you with a face of concern, a bowl of steamed fish in one hand and a cup of water in the other. He sighs quietly, crouching down to come eye to eye with you. “You were in heat, weren’t you?” He states, already knowing the answer. “You should eat and drink something.” He places the bowl and cup on the floor next to you.

You sit up, supporting your torso with your arms behind your back. Neteyam. The older, caring bother, always looking out for everyone but himself. Of course, he would be the one to care enough to find out what you’ve been through the past day. “Yup. Late bloomer finally got her heat.” you speak of yourself harshly, taking the cup of water and chugging it.

“You smell gross.” he chuckles breathily, nudging the bowl of fish closer to you.

“Thanks, big brother. Appreciate it.” you giggle between cries, nudging it back to him. “Not hungry.”

His arms rest on his knees, braids swaying in his face as he looks behind him before dropping his head. “Agh.” he lifts his head, staring at you for a few seconds, as if he were contemplating something. “You should not have done that. Not before your iknimaya.”

“I didn’t! Nothing... like that happened, Tey. Ralak isn’t like that.” your head hangs low as you utter the words. “He’s... a gentle giant.”

Neteyam scoffs, straightening his spine. “Gentle giant? He looks like he eats na’vi for breakfast.”

“Hey –” you sniffle, glaring up at him, “I like him, Tey. A lot. He’s good for me.”

Neteyam’s features soften. As if hearing your words plucked a string of sympathy in his heart. As much as he wants to help you, he can’t. Not with a direct order from his father. He shakes his head, eyes closed, and brows furrowed.

That’s his way of saying, ‘Sorry. Can’t’.

You sigh, bringing your knees to your chest to hide your face. You can smell Ralak’s scent now that your nose is near your thighs. It fills your lungs with every breath you take. His pheromones. His aphrodisiac. His arousal. He left it all on you, rubbed into your skin so deep it seems to have altered your own scent.

Is this what scenting does?  

Soon you’re breathing heavily, trying to savour what left you have of him – of last night. It makes you heavy in the head, like all the strength has left your body. You feel your face warm up, the heat spreading to the tips of your ears. You’re tired. Defeated.

“Neteyam! Neteyam!” Lo’ak’s faint voice sounds frantic.

You hear Neteyam shuffling to his feet to go and check what his brother is on about. “Stay here, got it?”

“Mhm.” you hum, too tired to even lift your head.

The sound of Lo’ak yanking back your privacy curtain makes you jump out of your skin, nearly knocking over the bowl of steamed fish. You stare up at him wide eyed, to see him motioning over to the door of your marui. Your brows kiss in confusion, unsure of what’s going on.

“Heard you were in... hea-a situation. Just gonna borrow big bro for a second, cool?” he raises his brows, nudging his head towards the door in an emphasized manner.

A smile pulls at your lips once you realize what he’s doing for you. You wipe your puffy eyes with the back of your hand and shuffle to your feet. “I owe you, Lo’.”

Ralak’s POV

Ralak rouses to an empty bed. He sits up quickly, scanning his marui for any sign of you. Nothing. The only thing that remains is your potent scent flooding the room. The only proof that you were ever here. “Oh, y/n.” he groans, head slumping into his hands.

You were gone. Gone like you were never here to begin with. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he tried not to assume the worst. But what if – what if it was the worst? To be used and discarded like an object. All over again. Surely, there’s no way that you would do this to him, not after opening-up to you like that. Not after last night. Not after the words you uttered to one another before going to sleep –

‘I love you’.

But why does it feel the same? The same as that day. The day he was in a marui pod like this one, young, bare skinned and short haired, kneeling before his own karyu. His chest tightens, the walls of his throat closing in on one another. He can feel it creeping up his spine. The flashbacks. The tremors. The nausea. Rushing to his feet, he makes his way over to the shelf well-stocked with bottles of ‘fermented fruit’ – pxir [beer; alcohol].

A poison to many, but an antidote to him.

Dust had settled on the bottles since the last day he reached for them. The day you became his tanhì. That’s why he had never brought you up here, he never wanted you to see the truth. The way he copes with his emotions – bottling them up and then chugging it down when they became just too much.

The bottle opens with a pop, strong, bitter scent wafting up his nose, replacing the scent of you in his lungs. He takes a quick swig, baring his teeth from the sting of it trickling down his throat. “Ahh.” He sighs a breath of relief, feeling the alcohol already taking effect, loosening his chest, and clearing his throat.  

Yet he can still feel the shiver of his spine, and the churn of his stomach.

“Shit.” he curses, taking another swig. Cursing himself for trusting another after he made the vow to never trust again. Another swig. For facing the part of him that he’s denied since he came into adulthood. Another swig. For letting someone in. Another swig. For allowing himself to love you.

Alas, a clear mind and body – rid of the memories of his past.

He readies himself for his bath, something he often did to relax. Just like he did last time you left him.

----

Time is of the essence. With no idea of when Jake will be back, you move quickly. You weave through the webbing of the mangrove roots, ducking and dodging those that jut out. You take a short cut, bouncing over the netting of a cluster of marui pods on the way to Ralak’s.

Eyes guardedly stuck to your feet, you bump into Ka’ani, the man who replaced Ralak’s role as fisherman – faceplanting into his bare chest. Arms instinctively wrapping around you, he holds you close until you regain your balance. Admittedly, he’s a little too close for comfort, his face nestled in the crown of your head. You hear quick, nasally breaths, muffled by your hair.

Is he... sniffing me right now?

You shove him off you, probably a little too rough to be considered friendly, and take a few steps back. “Sorry, Ka’ani.” you mutter, gingerly walking around him.

“No problem, at all.” he smirks, raising his hands and making space for you to leave.   

With a quick shake of your head, you continue making your way to Ralak. The closer you get, the more a giddy smile spreads across your face. Though you were the bearer of bad news, you can’t ignore the flutters in your stomach. The same flutters you had when you first laid eyes on him – the day Eywa herself told you he’s the one.

Your mate.

Your legs move faster, as fast as they can go, until the sand slackens your steps. Silky, fine sand – always the first thing to let you know that you’ve arrived. You can’t help the excitement bubbling from your tummy and up your throat. “Ralak!” you blurt out, eager to find your love.

A tall figure in the distance catches your eye, it looks as if he were going into the cave. You wave your hands above your head, shouting his name as you lope towards him. “Ralak!”

The figure stops, turning around to acknowledge your calls. He stands still for a minute, before walking towards you with a stagger in his step. Tail perking up instantaneously, your hand flies to your bare hip, searching for your medicine pouch. You’re running on the tips of your toes again, concern and worry replacing the flutters low in your belly.

“Wha-t is it?” you shout, voice wavering as you close the distance between your bodies.

You crash into him with a smack, making the typically sturdy giant wobble. Now your ears art alert, perturbed by his odd behaviour. Gently pushing you away, his large hands grip your upper arms, fingertips touching once another. Blue, hazed orbs peer down at you, extra glossy and lidded.

“Are you sick? Wounded?” you question, resisting his gentle pushes to search his body. 

Nostrils flickering above his pursed lips, he leans into your neck. He pulls back with a huff, blowing hot air through his nose, onto your face. Your eyelashes flutter, face of concern quickly morphing into one of confusion.

Everyone is sniffing me today.

Head snapping to the left, his eyes search the webs of the mangrove roots off in the distance. A guttural growl rumbles deep in Ralak’s chest, thinned lips curling over his canines, flashing them before your eyes. You watch in awe as his brows lower, knotting together to turn his eyes beady. Ears flat against his skull, the scent of another na’vi scrunches his nose.

That’s a new look.

“Ralak.” your voice is breathy and small – laced with fright.

His growl grows louder, coming from the pit of his stomach, deep and powerful. Lengthy fingers tightening around your arms, he spins you around and tucks you behind him in one swift move. His name slips off your tongue once more, quick, and unsure. He has one hand perched on the dip of your waist, holding you close behind this towering frame.

“Come out.” he growls gruffly, straightening his spine to present at his full height.

The two words double-knot your stomach, sending you wiggling into the sink of his back, face peeking through the crack of his arm and side. Your eyes flicker from side to side, looking for whatever – whoever he’s talking to. Meanwhile, your fingers grip the band on his loincloth, the only thing available on his body to hold.

Silence.

“Or I make you.” He rasps the warning through his four, pointed fangs.

Perhaps if Ralak wasn’t here the knots in your belly would have tightened by now, to the point where you would feel queasy. But the hiss fizzling from the back of his throat puts your nerves at ease – your body sensing its safety in his presence.

Out comes a brawny, wide na’vi, from behind the large, thick roots of the mangroves. His hands are splayed out, representing something of caution. No – surrender. He approaches Ralak slowly. Warily.

“Sorry, brother. I did not know she was yours.” Ka’ani says impishly.

Jaw snapping open, his hiss comes out full force. It’s loud and thick, almost grating. Much like a roar. Though you knew it wasn’t for you, it shook you up, tugging at the string in your grip as your body jolts forward into his.

“She belongs to no one.” His top lip twitches as he spits the vile words, stinging your heart in the process. Am I not his? What about last night? You think, tightening your grip on the band of his loincloth.

“It looks as if she belongs to you, Tak.” Ka’ani leans to the left, chin jutting out as he tries to catch a glimpse of you. “Look at her, holding on to your –”

“Lewng! [shame]. Tracking her scent.” Ralak hisses, turning his body to hide you from his predatory eyes. “Leave.”

“Ah. Come on now, brot-” He spreads his arms wide, walking around Ralak towards you.

Ralak takes a step forward on his last word, nearly coming chest to chest with the shorter na’vi. A moment of silence passes between the two, as Ralak stares him down with vengeance in his eyes. A hand flies up to his hip, gripping the knife sheathed in its casing. “Now.”

Ka’ani straightens his back, eyes flickering between Ralak and yours that peek from behind him. His hands retract, hovering either side of his head as he retreats. Ralak maintains his position, with a hand keeping you tucked away whilst the other rests on his hip. Once Ka’ani’s figure is no longer visible, Ralak sighs, and turns his heel to make his way back to his much-needed bath.

“Thanks...” you huff, walking close behind him.

“You women and your heats.” he mutters as he walks faster, ripping his loincloth out of your grip.

“Ex-cuse me?” your words bounce as you try to keep up with him. “You have no –”

“Do you understand what would have happened had I not been here? Do not be so reckless.” He tsks, as his feet come to a halt, balling his hands into fists.

“Reckless? All I did was walk here!” you shout, almost bumping into him again.

“Because you left to begin with.” he whispers through clenched teeth.

“What?” the question is breathy, hands perching on your knees to rest.

He turns around quickly, prompting you to stand at full height. Breathing heavily, he presses his warm body against yours, chin tucked into his chest to peer down at you. Instinctively, you perch on the tips of your toes, eyes lidded in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, he brings your wrists up to his nose, heated lips pressing against your supple skin.

“He scented you.” he mumbles quickly, lips pulling into a thin line before letting go and backing away.  

“Why? How? I only bumped into him.” you walk towards him, watching him turn his heel again. “Hey –” you reach out for his arm to pull him back around.

First you leave him this morning, then come back scented by another na’vi. He shrugs you off, hands now fiddling with the knot above the base of his tail as he nears the entrance of the cave. The knot of his loincloth comes undone, heavy, sheathed hunting knife silently making impact with the sand.

“Because he wants everything that’s mine.”

So, I am his. You think, one corner of your mouth curling upwards into a smirk.

“Oh, Ralak.” You stand at the cave’s opening, waiting in silence for a response.

He continues to keep his back turned to you, dips of his clenched glutes on full display. Despite last night, seeing him naked still makes you shy, cheeks turning red and hot from the blood that rushes to them. You watch him hastily put his hair in a sloppy bun as he submerges himself in the water.

“I need to speak with you about this morning” you mumble, eyes locked onto the ripple of his back muscles.

“No need. I understand.” he answers lowly, shimmying over to the bottle of fermented fruit propped on a rock in the cave.

“Understand what? It’s about –”

“You made a mistake. It was your heat. It is fine.” he mutters quickly, taking a swig at the last word.

A mistake? My heat?

The realization hits you, hard. You’d been so out of it, so delirious from your heat you hadn’t given a second thought about his confession. His trauma that he confided in you, in this very cave. It’s like stones in your heart – no, boulders. Weighing it down so heavily that it feels like there’s a pulse in your stomach.

How could you be so cruel? So thoughtless? So insensitive? To not even wake him and utter the words to his face. To allow him to wake up to an empty bed after letting down his walls and being so vulnerable to you. To be so caught up in your own head you couldn’t even bat an eye at the man who helped you through your first heat.

“Oh. Oh, Lak. No. No, it’s nothing like that.” you sputter out a trembling voice, sliding into the water to rush over to him. You rest your hand on his upper back, taking in the warmth of his skin. He feels feverish – hot to the touch.

What is he drinking?

You rub his back gently, bioluminescent freckles dancing from your caresses. Yet, he’s rigid. Cold. Distant. He’s not the Ralak you know, swaying side to side as he brings the lip of the bottle to his mouth.

“Stop, my love.” you coo, sliding your hand up his raised arm as you walk around him.  Pulling the bottle away from his lips, you cautiously place the pxir on a nearby ledge. “Ralak.” you whisper, staring up at him with worried eyes.

The sound of his name falling from your lips tilts his head back ever so slightly, like it pained him to even look at you. Curly, loose stands of hair frame his face, accentuating his angular features. He attempts to fix his mask of indifference to his face, but you can see through it. You see the anguish glossed over his lidded, inebriated eyes.

Ocean blue eyes.  

tw: flashback

His mind is elsewhere, dissociating back to the day of the incident. The night of his iknimaya celebration, where his own karyu cornered him in his family marui, engulfing him with her pheromones. Manipulating him with her heat to take care of her. To touch her.

He can hear the waves crashing into the shore, the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof of the marui, the roll of the thunder – her whispers in his ear, ‘I’ve been waiting too long for this. You are officially a man now. Make your karyu feel better, right here...’.

The smell of her pheromones is suffocating, more potent than any fermented fruit he’s ever had. It frightened him, feeling like he had no self-control. No way to stop his movements, no matter how much he screamed at his body to move, run – anything.

It is what made him vow to never lose control of himself. His composure.

He can feel the heaviness of his body. The lethargy. The way his lungs refused to fill, no matter how hard he tried to breathe. When he woke, he was alone, sitting in the corner in a pool of his own sweat, curled in on himself. His karyu left, to never return. Leaving nothing but the lingering smell of her heated scent behind. 

tw: end of flashback

“My karyu” you hum softly, placing his hand on your chest.

When you first called him that, he almost grimaced. But as time passed, you made the word bearable. You gave it a new meaning, a new feeling. Eventually filling him with eagerness to hear it fall from your flushed lips. In tones of excitement, frustration... pleasure.

You hold his thumb, and give it a squeeze, trying to bring him back from wherever he is. Your heart weighed even heavier, seeing him drift away and detach when he’s right in front of you. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. Feel me. Feel my heartbeat. Focus on it and come back to me.”

The words echo in his skull, reverberating between the thick bone. He can hear you, feel you. With each thump of your heart, the heaviness of his body lifts, the scent of her fades, the pitter-patter of the storm subdues until nothing, but that thump can be heard. His eyes finally flicker down to yours, ears and brows twitching at the pulse of your heart.

Only a bottle could do that for him. Bring him back. Yet, you did it with the mere sound of your heart.

“I’m sorry, Lak. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was so thoughtless. I’m sorry... that happened to you.” the words are shaky, flowing over your quivering bottom lip. “I would never. Ever. Ever. Ever –” you blubber, shaking your head, “Ever, do that to you. I-I had to leave because of my father. He’s punishing me. Forbidding me from seeing you. Having Tsireya teach me instead. I should have woken you.”

Another arm snakes around his waist, bringing him in closer to you. You slump your head into his chest, letting the tears flow and stain his skin. “I don’t regret a thing. I meant everything I said. I-I see you, Ralak” you sputter, breath hitching from the crying.

“Tanhì” he croaks, kissing the crown of your head as he wraps his arms around you to hold you closer.   

“I love you” The three words are said in unison as you cling onto one another.

Alcohol still coursing through his veins, Ralak’s heavy body slumps into you, slowly shifting you both against the cave wall. He presses your back against the rocky surface, unwrapping his arms from your waist to support his body weight with a hand on the wall. He leans in, brushing his cheek against yours.

“I will miss you.” he whispers huskily next to the shell of your ear.

“I’ll miss you, too.” you whisper back, head pulling back to meet his gaze.

Your eyes lock for a moment, an undeniable tension now budding in the air and making your breaths quicken. He inches even closer, lips brushing against yours as you exchange the same hot breath until you’re light in the head.

He kisses you roughly – sloppily.

Tongue slipping into your mouth, you get a taste of what he’s been drinking all day. It’s a little sweet, with undertones of various fruits native to the reef people. But once the sweetness wears off, the bitter aftertaste makes your brows gather. He pulls away, revealing heavy-lidded eyes with thin blue rings for irises, flickering side to side as they stare into yours.

Chests heaving in synchrony, you both struggle to catch your breath. Hands cupping each other’s face, your lips crash into one another again, body language hungry and desperate for each other’s touch. Ralak shoves his knee between your legs, providing you with the friction your body has been begging for. Your body moves on its own, humping at his thigh as best you can in the water.

“I-I want... you.” The desperate words part your bruised, flushed lips, hand sliding up his back to caress his kuru [queue].

He shakes his head, brows gathering tightly. “Not now. Not here. We do it the right way.”

“Then...” you pant, voice laced with desperation as your hands make their way to his hips, dainty fingers wrapping around his hardened girth, “...give me something else.”

Breath turning raggedy, he struggles to maintain his composure. The influence of the alcohol surging through his body proves it to be an even more difficult task. He takes a deep breath, withdrawing his knee from your legs to spin you around in one quick motion. Ralak tries his best to be gentle with you, shoving you into the wall to press his aching cock against you.

A soft moan parts your lips; thin, fuzzy tail wrapping around his thigh in attempts to bring you closer. Eywa, did that push him closer to the edge. Your tail had been one of his favourite things about you from the day you first locked eyes, so slender and delicate. Nothing like his. It not only fascinated him. It aroused him.

It makes him push into you even harder, tip of his cock throbbing against your lower back. He craves to be even closer to you – to be inside you. To rut into you until your voice becomes so hoarse from screaming his name. Over and over. Again, and again. Fingers hurriedly fiddling with the knot of your loincloth, he pants a few greedy, rough kisses along your upper back.

“Oh! Ralak, I-I think –” you moan lowly, his touches throwing you into a daze.

“What?” he huffs, fingers coming to a halt in fear that he’s being too rough with you.

“I think I’m still in heat.” you lie, or maybe it wasn’t a lie. You feel so woozy in the head that you’re not even sure what’s going on anymore. All that sits at the forefront of your mind is him claiming you as his.

“Is that so?” he lets out a breath of relief, a chuckle if you will.

“Yes. Can you help me?” you pant, trembling voice feigned with innocence.

“Ah. Let me check, little one.” He buries his face into the nape of your neck, pulling back with a loud sigh through his nose. A growl rumbles in his chest and up his throat. “I can still smell him.” The scent of another so deep into your skin makes him want to mark you. To sink his lengthy canines into your neck for the smell to seep out, only to be replaced by his.

“Then fix it.” you breathe, head dipping forward to open yourself up to him.

“Oh?” he smiles open mouthed, brushing his pointed fangs against your silken skin, making your back arch on instinct. Submitting to him and his touch. Open mouth lingering over your neck, his jaw closes to graze his teeth against you. He sucks lightly on your skin, puckered lips pulling off with a pop.

Of course, he’d make you wait for that too. He was only ‘helping’ you, right now.  

He kicks your feet apart, spreading your legs for him to settle in closer behind you. A string of your slick connects your thighs together, breaking apart when he rubs his cock against your bare cunt. He begins rubbing his face into the back of your neck, scenting you as his.

“Mine. Yes?” he growls, thrusting himself against your slippery slit.   

“Yes.” You spread your legs further apart, standing on the tips of your toes to provide him with better access. “Please.” You let out a pathetic mewl.

He grunts in frustration. He wants nothing more than to thrust himself inside you, stretching your pussy out with his huge cock. And with those little, sweet pleas, it’s almost too hard to resist. But he does. He pulls away, gaze snapping down to the rope of wetness connecting your most intimate parts together.

Cocking a brow, his hand comes between your sticky pelvises, fingers coiling around the string of slick before they glide over your pussy and spread your folds. Your wetness drips down his digits, pooling in the palm of his hand. “So wet. Maybe you are in heat.” he mumbles, pressing his lips against your back, peppering kisses down the curve of your shoulder.  

Ralak fondles with your puffy clit, rubbing tight circles into it with his slickened fingertips. Your hips squirm around from the white-hot pleasure tightening your core. It’s just not enough. Perhaps it’s just residual heat, but you feel so, so empty. A yearning deep in your womb, to be filled and stretched. Your hips buck forward, slipping his fingertips to prod at your entrance, before pushing back on him to try and sink them inside you.

Needy body language riling up the giant behind you, his harsh kisses move their way up to your ear. “Say it, tanhì.” he groans lowly, positioning his finger at your tight hole.

“I n-need you inside of me!” you cry desperately, shoving yourself back into him.

“You listen so well, paysyul.” he exhales a hot breath into the shell of your ear, sinking his thick finger inside you, twisting his wrist so that he can curl it right into your sweet spot.

“Oh, shit.” you moan breathily, cheek pressed firmly against the rocky wall.

“That is why you learn so quickly.” He fingers you roughly, expertly working out a squelch with each curl of his digit.

The feeling is like heat, shooting down your spine and pooling in your pelvis. It makes your hips spasm, chasing the fiery sensation in hopes to put it out. His finger brings relieve, satiating the itch as your sweet spot swells from pure bliss. He knows exactly where to touch, and how to touch.

Yet, it still isn’t enough.

“More! ‘ts not enough!” you cry, writhing underneath him.

He finds your little cries amusing, letting a chuckle evade his lips. How could something so small act so mighty? He slides another digit in, feeling your tight pussy walls stretch to accommodate him. He hears the little whimper bubbling up your throat, letting him know you need a moment to adjust.

“Taking my fingers so well, hm?” he praises you with a shaky voice, planting a gentle kiss behind your ear.

“Mmmn! Please!” Another plea falls from your lips, a plea for him to move – to make you cum. He sets a relentless pace, stimulating the sensitive spot in your gummy, hot walls, working lengthy moans and mewls from you.

With the way he’s fingerfucking you, it feels as if your nerves are on fire. The coil tightly wound in your core ready to snap any second now. Your brows pinch together in fervour, mouth falling open to allow heavy, hot breaths to escape.

“Close! So close! Gonna! Gonna –” Your words catch in your throat, leaving you breathless and tense around his fingers.

“Make yourself cum.” he orders gruffly, stopping all movement once he feels you tighten around his digits.

You gasp, hips moving on their own to chase the orgasm he just took away from you. “No, no. You know I can’t. Please.” you sputter, pushing against the wall to ride his fingers.

“You can. And you will.” he growls, bending his fingers as encouragement.

You quickly accept your fate, holding on tightly to whatever pleasurable feeling remains and running with it. You push back on him, squirming around as you try to make yourself cum. Closing your eyes, you tune into your body, feeling what feels good and where. But the position that you’re in makes it even harder to do it yourself.

“Just fuck me!” you cry desperately, frustration so pent up you couldn’t help the outburst.

“Language.” he hisses, shoving his fingers so deep inside you that your slick coats his knuckles.

“Fuck! Please.” you beg, reaching behind you to grab his wrist.

“No.” he smirks, looking down at how your cunt sucks in his digits, listening to your pleading and begging.

He just wants to hear a little more. To hear how badly you want him. He loves the way you squirm around, sputtering nonsense from being so fucked out by just his fingers. He loves the little noises your pussy makes for him and can’t wait to hear how they’ll sound once his cock is stuffed inside you.

“Ralak. Please. Please make me cum!” you cry, using his wrist as leverage to fuck back into him.

He slides his hand down your stomach, fingers playing with your swollen, neglected clit. He’s pumping his digits in and out of your dripping cunt, feeling your slick dribble down his hand. It doesn’t take long for you to near your climax, pussy walls clamping down around his fingers.

“Let go. Cum for me.” he groans, swollen tip of his cock oozing beads of precum onto your lower back.

“Oh, fuckfuckfuck!” you let out a hoarse cry, entire body shuddering underneath him “Cumming! Cumming!”

“That’s my girl.” he hums proudly, scissoring his fingers open to stretch you out.  

You let out a high-pitched whimper, hint of pain making your eyes water. Then a wave of ecstasy ripples through you, leaving your legs trembling beneath you. He snakes his arm around your waist, holding you up while you ride out of your high, sprinkling your shoulder with kisses.

Once you come down from your high, you lean back into him, resting your head against his chest. Huffing and puffing, you try to catch your breath as you turn around to cup his swollen balls. “My turn to make you feel good.”

To your surprise, he rests a hand on your arm, pulling it away from him. He looks down at you through blown pupils, arousal plastered all over his face. Beads of sweat trickle down his temples, wet strands of curled hair stuck to his cheeks, he sighs the words. “Not today, tanhi. I must get you back, now.”

From now on

You are not allow to complain about lack of content if you don't reblog content.

You're part of the problem. I don't care if it doesn't fit your aesthetic or you think that a like is "just as good". Reblogs are way more important than likes.

A like is like a quick almost mindless thing you do as a "neat" before you keep scrolling. At least that's what it feels like they are.

A reblog is telling that creator: Hey, I really like your stuff and want you to make more. I'll help by spreading your content around so more people can see it.

We all appreciate likes but they don't do any good if no one is sharing the content.

Every time I see such a difference in likes and reblogs it discourages me from writing more and I'm sure others feel the same.

JADSSDHHEFHHHGHAG i love the way u write remus :((<333 RAHHH AND THE READER IS SO AJDJSAJDJF LOVE LOVE LOVE

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 remus lupin x fem!reader

Summary: At the gryffindor party, Remus finds himself on the verge of jealousy. [ implied smut, insecurities, swearing, suggestive language, mentions of alcohol ]

requested by anon | masterlist

“Putting on your gold dress I see,” Marlene smirked knowingly as you got ready for the party.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s interesting. I know there’s a certain brunette at the party,” she sang, fixing her hair in the mirror.

“James is pretty cute,” you agreed, shrugging.

Marlene turned to you with an exasperated sigh. “We both know I’m talking about Remus.”

Keep reading

http://tegaki.pipa.jp/439153/index_0.html

cute small chicks hanging out with gentle big faceless dudes with romantic undertones is a hell of an aesthetic

OH LORDDD THE ANGST.... IM INVESTED

Cruel Summer | Chapter I: August

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, friends-with-benefits, mutual pining, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: You and Neteyam have been friends since you were children, and you taught each other everything, from English and Na'vi, to movie references and hunting, to everything about your own and the other's bodies. It was the perfect friendship-with-benefits, on paper. But how long can it last in the face of all that stands to tear it apart?

A/N: I'm so excited to say my new Neteyam series is officially here, and I hope you enjoy the first chapter!! This was for some reason one of the easiest and at the same time, one of the hardest piece i've ever written, like some parts came to me almost instantly and others I STRUGGLED WITH, besties. I hope it's not super disjointed and that you're as excited as me to embark on this journey. Thank you for your patience and can't wait to hear your thoughts. As always, I deeply appreciate your replies, reblogs, likes and follows, they mean so much x ly besties xoxo

: ̗̀➛ listen to August here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

Your back beneath the sun, wishing I could write my name on it

Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinking I had you

There was so much about you and Neteyam’s relationship, if you can even call it that, that was wrong and unsightly, that was forbidden and hidden. But, as you stood in the forest, propped on your elbows, taking in the sun shining brightly through the leaves and his toned, azure back, on which patterns of the forest branches rippling in the breeze formed, you couldn’t care less if you tried. In these moments, fleeting and irreplaceable, life was everything you’ve ever wanted, more than you could have ever dreamt, and enough to keep you going. In these moments, there were no humans and Na’vi, no impending doom, no animosity over your presence in the village, no hatred emanating from Neytiri’s entire being whenever her intense and prying eyes spotted you or Spider in the crowd or amongst her kids, no woman that would soon be bearing Neteyam’s children, there was nothing else, but him and you and the promise of hushed confessions and wandering hands, of lingering stares and breakable heaven. 

You couldn’t help be drawn by the silent invitation of his body, so tempting and beautiful, so big and different to yours, but just similar enough to allow for… certain enjoyable, mind-blowing pastime activities that were sure to occupy the time and every ounce of free space in your mind, and your soul, and your entire being. Your hand trailed on his back, from the nape of his neck to the band of his loincloth, moving over the scratches that you left on him just a couple hours ago, over the healed scars he got from battles and hunts that you could name and describe each of by heart, and you drew your name on his back with your fingers and the air beneath them as ink, hoping this way you’d mark him, this way you could keep him forever. Pushing the unpleasant thought aside, you playfully tugged at the purple fabric covering him. He turned around on his side to face you, his defined abs and chest fully on display, and the way he eyed you, desperate and needy, full of hunger and desire, made your stomach churn and core throb. 

“What do you think you’re doing, ma Vol?” 

Your mouth curved in a mischievous grin, which turned into a full-blown laugh as he grabbed your much smaller hands in one of his large blue ones and with very little visible effort, stretched your arms above your head and manoeuvred you on your back on the mossy, comfortable grass. He hovered over you, his smile mirroring your own from just a few moments ago, and he tapped the mask currently providing the oxygen needed to keep you alive with his index finger, the sound ringing in your ears like bells in a church. 

“I would give anything to not have this in the way right now.” 

“Me too. Death by make-out with a hot blue 9 something foot tall alien? There are worse ways to go.” 

He shook his head at you and scoffed, but you could tell he was amused. The desire you felt for him instantly diminished as the thought of the fact he would be heading home soon enough, home to his family and his new mate, crept unwelcome in the back of your mind and slowly moved forward, until it was everything, until it was the only thing. 

“Do you have to go back soon?”

He sighed and let you go, plopping himself back on the grass next to you, chest up and looking at the sky and the clouds moving above you, and all the shapes they made as they passed you by. 

“You know I do.” 

You knew. You’ve known for years, ever since the first time you and Neteyam started this game of hide and seek with the rest of the village, with each other, and with yourselves, that this was temporary, that one day, he would belong to someone else, and all you would be able to do is watch.

Salt air, and the rust on your door, I never needed anything more

Whispers of "Are you sure?", "Never have I ever before"

Your and Neteyam’s lives could not be more different. You were human, a tiny, inconsequential human, left behind after the war, unable to be hooked to cryo, so you stayed with the scientists who were fortunate enough to be allowed safe haven on this planet that was now as much their home as it was the Omatikaya’s. You knew nothing of Earth, other than stories told to you by your surrogate family and from whatever form of art they had with them, that brought them the comfort of a home long forsaken, but never forgotten. In time, it brought you comfort, too, knowing what Earth used to be like, knowing that humans were not just monsters, but had it in them to be smart, and kind, and funny, to create beautiful music, and poetry, to combine words, words that everybody had access to and everyone could speak, combine them in such a way that it brought tears in your eyes or happiness in your heart, that made you think and ponder about the meaning of growth, the meaning of love and laughter and life and death. It was beautiful, they were beautiful, and - you hoped - so were you.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You and Neteyam shared many firsts throughout your 19 years of friendship. Despite your differences, despite your incompatibility and despite so many challenges facing you, despite both knowing it was most likely wrong and shouldn’t have happened, you always found solace in each other. You found yourselves in each other. You were each other’s first kiss, first sleep over, first flirtatious touch and first wandering hands, first make-out, first second base and first third base, first secret affair. Everything you knew about each other’s bodies, about your own bodies, you learned together. What makes each other tick, what makes each other tickle, what makes each other cum. In time, you knew everything about the other and you made sure you took advantage of that knowledge as often as you could. 

The first time you and Neteyam ever kissed was when you were both 12, both innocent children, both curious. At that time, he was not a lot bigger than you, as it turns out humans stopped growing in height a lot sooner than Na’vi did. Now, your full body reached his lower ribs, but at the time, he was only about a head taller than you. It was short and sweet, and so so innocent, and yet, it never left you. That kiss, which at the time was just fulfilling a curiosity more than anything else, started a complicated and convoluted journey that was full of potholes, full of tight swerves and icy roads, full of dangers and darkness, but a journey worth taking nonetheless, because in the short periods of clear skies and sun-kissed warmth, it had the most heavenly sights and luminous vistas, and it was everything. 

The first time you shared a bed, you were 15. Actually, a bed is a very loose term. In reality, it was just a mess of sheets in one of the recreation rooms that no other human or avatar really frequented, outside of you and Spider. It was large and tall, and had a huge screen where you usually watched movies whenever the Sullys came by to visit. Neteyam taught you Na’vi and he, being the dutiful son and soldier that he was, would come by to learn English at least once a week when he was young, knowing it would one day come in helpful against the humans. He didn’t say it, but you knew he also did it to be more like his dad, yet another way he emulated the Toruk Makto.

His favourite way to learn is with you, as you were also learning as you went along, and both of your favourite way to learn is by watching Earth videos, and movies and tv shows, and trying to figure out what the references meant, what the idioms meant, how to use slang that made no sense to your ears without the scientists explaining it to you. When you were alone, sometimes, you liked to make your own meaning for phrases, and laughed at your own little private jokes that no one else would ever be privy to. One of those evenings, that started with studying, and a marathon of Friends, ended with tangled limbs and soft snores, covered in blankets and the warmth of each other’s bodies. It was so innocent, and so childlike, and so was the second kiss you’ve ever shared, that happened in between giggles and The One Where Ross Finds Out, where the tension that erupted between Ross and Rachel and the kiss that resulted off it, prompted a philosophical discussion around physical displays of affection and what the big deal about it was. After trying it out for yourselves, you concluded it was overrated.

That didn’t last long, as your first make-out came soon after, a little less innocent and definitely less childlike. You discovered maybe there was some truth in those shows, and you discovered that you both enjoyed the tingling on your skin and the butterflies in your stomach that each other’s touch provided. That lasted for a few years, and eventually progressed into this, whatever this was. Initially, it was just curiosity. Then it became about how good release felt, how necessary it was, how much the pleasure helped both of you unwind and go about your day, forget about frustrations about the labs, and training, and parents and surrogate families, it could all be solved by each other’s bodies. It was purely self-indulgent, it was friends with benefits at its finest.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

But life never stopped around you, and the world didn’t stop around you, as much as it felt like it had when it was just the two of you. You both grew up, and while you were still the same human, still doing the same things and having the same limitations that would always plague you, Neteyam’s world was a constant whirlwind of which you were just a small breeze. In time, he took his Iknimaya and Uniltaron, he became a man, and a revered warrior, despite being only 19. Early last week, he even got a mate, and will soon consummate that mateship, and he will be bonded with her for life, and you will be just a part of the past, just a small reminder of his childhood, just a dull ache in a mass of growing pains. 

“What are you thinking about, ma Vol?” 

You smiled softly as his nickname pulled you out of your musings. Vol. He first called you that when you were kids, and he found out that on Earth, the eight month of the year, when you were born, was called August. The Na’vi had a name for August, and it was vospxìvol, and after the first time the word ever left his lips, so did any other name for you disappear from his mind. To everyone else, you were Y/N. To him, you were his Vol. His never-ending summer, your warmth surrounding him for all time, your day eclipsing his darkest nights. 

You wanted to be honest. To tell him what you thought about, what occupied your every other thought, what weighed on your heart so heavily it felt like it would overtake you, every day, all day, was him. It was how much, despite your unspoken agreement that this was purely physical, it got to mean more to you in time. It was how much you loved him, desperately and unconditionally, impermeably and forever. You wanted to tell him that you knew the rules, you knew that whatever this was couldn’t last, wouldn’t last, but there’s nothing more you wanted in this life than a way to make it last, to make him yours. That you curse your life every day that you will never be able to understand this world the way you were meant to, that you would never understand the bond the Na'vi have with it and with the beings in it, with each other, and that the thought of his queue, the most intimate part of him, a direct influx into his thoughts and feelings, connecting to someone else’s, made you sick to your stomach, made bile and acid gather in your mouth until it burned everything in its wake as you had to swallow you back down where it belonged. 

You felt stubborn tears pricking at your eyes and forced yourself to push them back away. Neteyam was your best friend, was the man that knew you more intimately than anyone else ever would and still, there were somethings better left unsaid, some cans of worms that would spoil even the most unfastidious of appetites. 

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

“Just thinking about how I’m going to be able to explain all of these marks on my body, you fiend. I think I’m running out of ideas, there are only so many rashes Norm won’t get worried about, and only so many clothes that will cover all traces of you on me. I don’t have the luxury of shopping for more clothes, you know?” 

Neteyam laughed and you knew you were out of the woods and that he wouldn’t pry anymore. It was time for you to go back, time for you to deal with the unfairness of the universe in your own room, under the cover of darkness and solitude, drowning your senses in music and mindless entertainment. 

“Take me home?” 

He turned his back to you and knelt, waiting. You smiled at his unspoken way of telling you to get on his back, and obliged, attaching to him like a backpack. In reality, this was easier for him than walking next to you, as you were slow and a far cry from his nimble and athletic capabilities. Plus, it meant he got to keep you close a while longer, got to feel his heart beating on his back and your chest moving as you inhaled, and your breath in the crook of his neck. It was much better than walking. It didn’t take long for Hell’s Gate to appear into view, the big, mostly decrepit ruin of a city left behind by the humans large enough that it could be spotted from miles away. It was Jake’s decision as Olo’eyktan to have the Omatikaya village close-by, an attempt at keeping close to the scientists and uniting the two worlds, both of which you had a foot in, but nothing more - enough to not be homeless, never enough to truly belong in either.

“What are your plans for the rest of the night?” 

The silence was very loud, and you sighed in a desperate attempt to fill it. 

“You know you can say you’re going to see her. I’m not under any illusion that you have no contact with the woman you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with when you’re not with me.” 

It was his turn to sigh, and you found yourself regretting ever asking. 

“I know, but still…” 

“Yes?” 

“You and me… it’s… I -…” 

You chuckled bitterly. Neteyam wasn’t a man of many words, but he was a man who always knew what those words would be when they did come out of his beautiful mouth. He never blabbered, or got flustered, he was the most poised and sure of himself person you’ve ever met. And yet here he was, mind blank and uncertain tone, and you felt relieved, at least to some extent, that he wasn’t completely unaffected by this whole situation, that you weren’t going through this completely by yourself. 

“I know.”

“I love you, you know?” 

That you did know. 

Remember when I pulled up and said, "Get in the car"

And then canceled my plans just in case you'd call?

Back when I was living for the hope of it all

Neteyam’s mind tortured him today more than most other days, as so many memories of your life together enveloped him, and the warmth they provided was quickly dispersed by thoughts of a face, a new face, a known and yet strange face, the face of the woman he’s been promised to. They wrestled with images of your face, beautiful and alien, so different from everything he knew and yet so familiar, of your body that he knew so intimately, that he knew better than his own, images of it trembling under him, of your parted lips and the moans that escape it, of your eyes he dreamt about each night shut tightly as each orgasm washed over you, of your hands that always found their way to his back or his ass, pushing him deeper in you, or in his hair, pulling on it or tugging it behind his ear.

It’s been almost two years since the first time he’s known you like this. The first time, it was awkward and strange, there was so much fumbling and so much that neither of you knew, and despite how many movies you watched, there was very little information on Na’vi and human… relationships, so it took a lot of trial and error to get to where you were at now, a point of no return, a point of unspeakable pleasures and feelings that ran so deep, they’d put most oceans to shame. Feelings that he hid, because speaking them out loud would lead to only heartbreak. What you two had worked. It’s worked for so long, neither of you knew anything else. You were best friends, you knew everything about each other. So why would he ever risk it? Why would he ever ruin it, since there was no future anyway?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Neteyam knew that what you did was wrong. It was wrong, but it never felt wrong. It felt so right. Despite all of your differences, despite all of the ways you could never be together, despite the fact that he could never form tsaheylu with you, nothing compared to the feeling of you falling asleep with your limbs all over his torso, with your head in the crook of his neck. Nothing compared to the connection he felt when he sank in you and you looked in each other’s eyes, and it felt like he could hear all of your thoughts, feel everything you were feeling, and he knew you did, too. In those moments, he thinks you both knew that what you had was far away from what it was always intended to be, and far away from how simple he thought it was when you first started it.

Because now there was someone else. Another woman, a woman that he’d have to bond with, have babies with, start a family with, a woman he had to love. A woman that wasn’t you. And while the thought of it made his skin crawl, so did the thought of disappointing his parents and his clan, who he would lead one day, by refusing, by not following through, by admitting he’s been engaging in these sort of relationships with a human, an alien. A demon. His mother could barely stomach you and Spider as her kids’ friends, Neteyam knew she’d have a heart attack is she were to hear about the activities you and her son got up to on a daily basis. 

Your chuckles ceased his train of thought, and he was glad. 

“You can put me down now, Teyam.” 

The gate to the big metal complex was so close to Neteyam he could feel the smell of metal inundating his nose and coating his tongue. He hated this smell, and he hated this place. You were the only good thing about it. 

“Sorry. Got lost in thoughts.” 

He heard the unmistakable sound of an oxygen mask being removed and his heart booming in his ears as panic took over him instantly, but he had no time to react to it as you turned his face towards you and placed your lips on his in a needy, desperate kiss that made him weak in the knees, that redirected his galloping heart from panic to desire, to ache… to love. Once you broke the kiss, Neteyam watched as you gasped for air and helped you tightened the mask over your face again, and then jumped from his back and onto the ground. 

“What was that for?” 

“Just saying thank you for a good day.” 

Just saying please don’t forget me once you reach her tent tonight. 

There was still a lot of commotion in the labs as you made your way through the corridors to reach your bedroom, and despite your body telling you it’s exhausted and needs sleep, you instead put on a lab coat and joined them, since you knew that going to bed meant unnecessary suffering and putting your mind through scenarios it didn’t need to think about just yet, not when they would all become reality soon and there was no point in living through it twice. You were surprised to find Spider in one of the cell culture labs, chatting animatedly with Norm. He smiled widely as he spotted you, and you tried your best to reciprocate and push aside all the ugly feelings plaguing you. 

“Hey, everyone.”

“Hi, gorgeous.” 

You knew Spider had a crush on you, and that he has had a crush on you for a while now. You weren’t sure if the crush was on your per se, or just on the only person who shared a similar age and species with him, but you didn’t have it in you to ever question him or turn him away. He was a good friend, and a good guy, and who knows? Maybe it was fate that you two were the only human children on Pandora, maybe it was fate that you were here together at the same time. Maybe despite your mind convulsing in pain just at the thought of him, thought of anyone else but Neteyam, he was who you would end up with, your only chance at lasting love, at a family. Maybe life was less about what you want, less about what makes you happy and more about the greater good, the greater purpose, the ability to make something out of nothing. Maybe. 

“What have you been up to today, kid?” 

“Not much, just training with Neteyam. Can’t you tell by my bulging muscles?” 

Norm removed his eyes from the microscope they were glued to, in order to eye you intently up and down. 

“All I can tell is that rash is not getting any better. You need to use the hydrocortisone cream I put in your room.” 

You prayed that neither men couldn’t see the blush that made your cheeks so hot from the inside out, you were struggling to keep your hands by your side and not fanning your face aggressively. 

“Will do, Norm. Need any help?” 

He thought about it for a while, then pointed to one of the incubators. 

“You can split the cells? I was going to ask Harry to do it, but since you’re here and want to help…” 

You smile at the chance to keep your mind occupied at least for a little while, at chance to not think about whatever it was that Neteyam was doing with another girl, with someone else that wasn’t you. 

The next few weeks passed in a blur, and so much has changed in your life, it was hard to keep track. The humans have officially returned to Pandora, and in their return, obliterated endless amounts of precious forest, of natural resources, of life that will never come back, that will always be mourned and missed. You were all forced to move camp, deep in the Hallelujah mountains, where the Flux Vortex was too powerful to allow for detection. It was painful and scary, and you felt numb as you had to say goodbye to the only home you’ve known for 19 years, to the forest and to the village. You couldn’t imagine how to villagers felt, how the Sullys felt… how Neteyam felt. There was only one thing that made this time bearable, and that was the fact that Neteyam’s mateship was postponed until things settled down. It was only temporary, and it meant very little in the grand scheme of things, but you were just happy you didn’t have yet another earth-shattering event clawing at your insides, ripping you to shreds. 

The relief didn’t last long, though, as Neteyam might not be sleeping with another girl, but he was also not sleeping with you anymore, either. The move and the new quarters meant a lot less privacy and a lot less space. You were fortunate enough to have your own room in the new labs, but the room was tiny and sharing a wall with Norm and Max. Neteyam was forced to move back into his parents’ tent, which meant the two of you never got a chance to be together at night anymore. He hasn’t come to visit you since the last time he took you back to Hell’s gate, and that was almost 2 weeks ago.

Today, you were hoping to change that. Today, you would ask him to take you to a different floating rock, or on an Ikran ride, or anywhere else but here, in this place that felt stifling and suffocating, this place that couldn’t, wouldn’t feel like home, no matter what. You missed him. You needed him. He had been the calm in all the chaos of your mind your whole life, and especially now, the spiralling felt particularly dizzying, the current particularly hard to navigate. 

As you were mindlessly pipetting some treatments of some cells, your mind wandered to the Sullys, all of whom were away today. The kids were in the forest, exploring woods that were no longer particularly safe to navigate. You knew they didn’t care, but still couldn’t help roll your eyes at the sheer irresponsibility. They asked you to come, but getting into any more trouble with Neytiri, or risking running into any humans didn’t particularly appeal to you. On the other hand, Neteyam and his parents were on a family hunt, a sweet tradition that has begun soon after Neteyam completed his Iknimaya and continued since, running of 6 years. 

Spending time with the Sullys was for sure one of your favourite ways to pass the time. The kids have always loved and welcomed you and Spider into their lives and their family, no matter how much Neytiri might have tried to influence them otherwise. Though Kiri found Spider her closest friend, you and her still loved hanging out together, loved being in each other’s companies, loved speaking for hours on end about everything and nothing. Kiri was drawn to humans, as Lo’ak was, and they took to your culture, your different ways of being, and thinking and existing, more so than any other Na’vi you knew. You assumed a lot of it had to do with their own differences to the clan, differences that while to you were insignificant, to them and to the Omatikaya, it meant the difference between a true Na’vi and a half-breed, an alien. Their slightly atypical appearance, which they shared with Jake, could be overlooked in him, as he was the Olo’eyktan, the Toruk Makto, the man that helped Eywa save their planet and their clan from certain death, but unfortunately for both his kids, that courtesy rarely extended to them.

Neteyam and Tuk looked all Na’vi, and could both pass as twins of their mother’s appearance at different stages of her life. Neteyam was the prince of the Omatikayan rule. He was tall and handsome, he was lean and muscular, and while his face was his mother’s, his body was definitely his father’s. Neteyam was a warrior. Through and through, he was forged in fire, with metal bones and razor-sharp teeth. He was forged to be unbreakable, to be the hope of the clan, the heir to the throne, the perfect son, the greatest soldier. Neteyam was one of the youngest Na’vi to go through his second birth after completing his Iknimaya and Uniltaron. He is the last man to get a bow made from the original Home Tree, that was burned to the ground almost 20 years ago. He was the epitome of the Omatikaya, and he wore all of these hats proudly, and he fought permanently to be worthy of them. Neteyam didn’t know what it was like to disappoint his parents, or his people. Unlike Lo’ak, he couldn’t afford to. Because of Lo’ak, he couldn’t afford to. He was willing to give anything… everything up in order to live up to the unrealistic expectations placed on him, because to him, that’s the only way to live. You admired him, admired his resolve and admired his will. You didn’t understand it, but you were human. You were selfish in nature, and you didn’t think that was a bad thing. You didn’t think being a little selfish sometimes was bad. In your mind,  you shouldn’t have to live only for others. You only had one life, a short life, and that life should be lived, and that life should be enjoyed. That was a cause of a great deal too many arguments between you and your best friend, and it is something you will never see eye to eye on. 

Norm’s aggressive entrance made you yelp out in surprise, and so did his face, contorted in pain and fear, so unlike the kind, calm and chipper one you’ve gotten to know throughout the years. 

“Get ready. Jake radioed me, the kids were attacked by the humans. They’re coming back now, so let’s make sure we have supplies prepared, so we can patch them up.” 

You felt a shudder overtake your body, and your hands, holding a pipette in one hand and a centrifuge tube in the other, felt limp and weak, felt like the weight was too much for your body to reasonably take. 

You got up from your chair almost robotically, feeling our mind blank as the information stewed and settled in it, until it reached a point it was the only thing ringing through your otherwise deafened ears. 

“Come on, honey.” 

“A-are…” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, couldn’t even bring your mouth to speak the words that were haunting your soul, that were constricting your heart.You were out of your mind with worry, so much worry, it was permeating through every cell of your being and bringing out toxins you didn’t even know resided in you, poisoning your blood and and making you pant, making you want to scream in anguish at the possibility of your honorary siblings, of him, being in any way hurt, in any way touched by any of the humans. 

“I think they’re alright. A little banged up, and probably terrified, but I think they’re ok. Jake didn’t say much, so let’s be prepared for everything. Get suture kits, and gauze, get numbing cream, the works.” 

You were grateful for Norm, now and always, for how he’s been more of a father figure to you than you could have ever anticipated or even hoped for. He’s loved and cared for you and Spider like you were his own, and you will never be able to repay him for all the attention and affection, but you strived to make him proud, strived to be a good student, a good scientist, a good person, a good daughter. That’s one of the reasons why you spent a lot of your time in Hell’s gate in the adjacent forest, and less time in the village. One of the reasons. 

As you got out of the labs and were hit by the warm thin air of the Omatikaya stronghold, you gasped as your eyes landed on Neteyam, who had deep cuts that leaked blood, like your eyes were leaking tears, both dropping carelessly, his on the ground, yours gathering at the bottom of your mask. His face cleared up as it spotted you in the crowd, and a quick look of easement panned across his features, and for a second, just a second, it felt like there was no one else in this world but you two, like this planet was an empty void kept alive and spinning by the magnitude of your love, by the gravity of the feelings pulling you towards each other, electrifying the air around you.

Your feet carried you forward with a mind of their own, and before you knew it, you were running, dropping the bag of supplies on the floor and pushing people out of the way - or at least trying to, not very successful when you were as strong as a literal toddler. The relief you felt overtook all your other thoughts, all your discernment of your circumstances and you surroundings, all the self-awareness of the situation and the knowledge you had to keep your feelings under wraps. It all went out the window as you jumped in Neteyam’s arms and circled your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips and although he winced in pain, he immediately tightened his grip and you and pulled you in closer. 

You moved until you came face to face with him, and you eyed him attentively to make sure he was alright, that he was really here and safe. 

“Are you -?” 

“I’m fine, ma Vol.” he smiled at you, and you could tell he was trying to tell you something by the way his eyes moved from yours to behind you. You were scared to follow his gaze, terrified to look behind you and see Neytiri glowering at you, and the confused, maybe scandalised faces of the rest of the Na’vi. So you didn’t. You got down and moved in line to all the rest of your surrogate siblings, doing a similar ritual, so as to not stand out from Neteyam’s. Lo’ak was happy to kneel and open his arms wide for you, and you appreciated this boy you loved so much more in this moment than you could ever tell him. He always knew what to do, he understood you well, just like you understood him. 

You finished with Spider, who looked a little more hurt than all the rest of them, and you knew it’s because, unlike them, his bones weren’t made with naturally occurring carbon fibre, so his body suffered a lot more every time something didn’t go to plan. It pained you to see him like this, hurting and bruised, and it hurt you more to see the anguish and fear haunting his eyes. You touched his arm and smiled softly as heat spread out where your hands traced his injuries, and when he looked at you, he shook his head, signalling for you to not question him any further, at least not for now. You nodded silently.

As the only two humans who were born on this foreign planet, you and Spider had a special bond. You had to, you had to stick together, because no one else really understood what either of you were going through except the other. He would always be the only one who understands the pain of being stuck in this body that was weak and feeble, that only one who understood the loneliness, the deep-seeded and monstrous loneliness that plagued you, the only one who understood what it was like to want something you can never have, like a chance to be one of the people, the chance to have a family, the chance at being accepted, the chance at being loved fully and without restraint, without pushback, without secrets. Spider has loved Kiri his whole life. You knew that. You also knew how hard he was fighting against it, how hard he was trying to convince himself he liked you instead, the only person on this planet that was made for him, whose body was compatible with his. Forbidden love is one of the many similarities you two shared. 

A small scream woke you up from your musings and you all snapped your head towards the sound that you now saw came from a woman, about your age, one that you knew very well, one that, despite every rational thought telling you otherwise, you hated with every fibre of your being. The woman. The dreaded woman that would one day be the mother of Neteyam’s children, the woman he’d wake up next to every day of his life, the woman he’d touch, and hold, and fuck. The woman he’d love. The woman that wasn’t you. 

“Oh, Great Mother! Oh, Eywa!” Her steps were wide and rushed, and in no time at all she made her way through the crowd and stopped just in front of Neteyam’s body, and carefully traced her long, slender fingers on his body. She looked panicked and forlorn, desperate to make sure her mate-to-be was unharmed. She gasped as her gaze landed on his many bleeding scratch wounds, and took him by the hand as she pulled on his arm, willing him to go with her.

“Yawne, come on. I will prepare healing salves for you in my tent. Let’s go.” 

You tried to swallow the bitterness that gathered in your mouth to no avail, as the lump that seemed like it had settled in your throat, never to leave you again, prevented it. You felt the familiar sting of tears gathering in your eyes and demanding to be released down your face, and knew you had to pull it together. This wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the time to think of how you’ve always been the one to heal Neteyam, it was always your hands trailing over his wounds, it was your hands that sutured his bleeding gashes, the one that made sure he wouldn’t ever scar, because the thought of anything marring his beautiful skin hurt you. 

“Uhm, we’re here, too, you know?” Lo’ak send a small snarky look in the girl’s direction, and Neytiri hissed at her son, threatening him to keep quiet. The girl didn’t acknowledge his words, opting to continue pulling Neteyam away forcefully. Lo’ak didn’t like her. You didn’t know why. Unlike you, he didn’t have an obvious reason. Maybe it’s how she acted like the rest of his family didn’t really exist, like they were somehow below her. Well, not the entire family. She liked Neytiri and Mo’at, and she liked Tuk. It was just Lo’ak and Kiri that she seemed to ignore. 

Your eyes remained fixed on Neteyam’s body, that was slowly getting farther away from you and closer to another woman’s tent, and you couldn’t help think how this was a fitting metaphor for your relationship and your future. He peered behind him and immediately found your face, and the look he gave you will haunt you forever. A look that told you that he loved you, that he was sorry, but he had no choice. A look that said “I wish things could be different, but they’re not”. A look that crushed your spirit and told you everything you never wanted to hear and nothing that could heal the pain currently poisoning your heart. 

Spider placed a hand on the small of your back, and with one last look at your best friend, the man you loved, you turned your back to him, to her, and to the love you felt in every cell in your body and focused on the people who needed you. You motioned for Spider and Lo’ak to follow you to the labs.

“Come. I’ll patch you up.” 

It was late at night when you finished everything you had planned on doing, and you dragged your feet tiredly to your room, eager to be alone, eager to be able to drop the facade you have had to maintain for the entire day and just release the anguish in your soul with a good crying session and some comfort show you have seen one too many times. You got into the shower and put the temperature as close to boiling as you possibly could, feeling the incessant need to burn a couple layers of skin, to remove the traces of Neteyam that will always be tattooed on you, the feeling of his lips on your body, that you could feel like he was here right now, the pressure of his hands as they tugged at your hips, as they wrapped around your throat, as they caressed your cheeks and pushed the hair out of your face. The tears that fell down your cheeks were removed as soon as they dropped, leaving only the memory of them, the images of what triggered them, of the anguished thoughts and deep pain that sank its teeth into you like a wild animal, tugging at and tearing apart everything they touched. 

As you got out of the shower, you heard the unmistakable sound of the door sliding open, and of something falling on the floor with a loud clank, and you knew exactly who it was. Your entire body was red and puffed from the shower, including your face, on which it was obvious that you have cried for the past 30 minutes. Fuck. 

With a loud sigh, that you hoped would lower your rapid heartbeat and shallow breaths, you opened the door and came face to face with Neteyam, who was knelt on the ground, trying to pick up what he dropped on the floor. 

“Sorry.” He says meekly. “I wish I could control my tail better, but it’s always an accident waiting to happen in these tight rooms.” 

You gave him a small smile that was not reflected in your eyes, and moved past him to sit on your bed. You fixed your eyes on the ground, noting how awkward and tense the atmosphere around you was. It’s never been like this. Ever. You and Neteyam have always been comfortable around each other. Always. No matter what ever happened in your lives or around you, no matter what depths your friendship reached, no matter how many boundaries you erased or walked past, it’s always felt natural. This didn’t. 

“Why are you here, Neteyam?” 

“What do you mean why I am here? I can’t be here?” 

You scoffed. 

“You can, you just never are anymore.” 

“Vol… come on. You know it’s different now than it was in the village, in Hell’s gate. We’re going to get caught.”

“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t want to get caught. God forbid anybody knows you fuck me in your free time.” 

“Vol…”

You knew you were being unfair. You knew it deep in your soul that he didn’t deserve any of this. You both agreed to this. You agreed to this a long time ago, and, if you were being honest with yourself, it was you that initiated it. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The first time you and Neteyam had sex, you were both drunk. It was your 18th birthday party, and Norm and Max organised a bash that would have apparently made even Earth bashes seem tame. There was food and music and dancing, and yelling and laughter and a lot… a lot of drinks. 

So many drinks, in fact, that in the early hours in the morning, you and Neteyam stumbled back to your room, barely being able to make out the shape of the bed before crashing unceremoniously on it, giggling like a school girl when you did and the world refused to settle around you like you did in it. 

“You’re so drunk.” Neteyam said, hiccuping slightly.

“No, you’re drunk. I’m fine.” 

It was a nice change of pace, seeing Neteyam so free, so uninhibited, so… happy. His life was always busy, always messy, always difficult, having to parent 3 kids he didn’t bring into this world, picking up their slack, making sure they were safe and free, while he lived shackled to his family and his clan’s expectations, to the promise of being chieftain one day and all the sacrifices that came along with it. 

“At least I can sit up.”

“Well, you’re about twice larger than me, so you know…” you were wiggling your fingers in the air, trying to make a point, although the point got lost in the abyss, much like the rest of your mind.

“Yes?” 

“Fuck knows, lost my train of thought.” 

“Goddamn, ma Vol, you are really drunk.” 

He came and lay in your bed next to you and you immediately fastened your limbs around his torso, like he was the flame and your soul was the moth that couldn't stay away. 

“So what? It’s my birthday. I’m an adult now! If I can’t get drunk on my birthday, when can I?” 

“I guess that’s fair.”

“Do you ever think about having sex?” 

Whatever thoughts Neteyam might have had evaporated quicker than water droplets in a fire, and he found himself speechless, not a totally uncommon occurrence in your presence.

“Cause I do. I think about it all the time. I mean, we watch so many movies, and series, and all humans seem to do is have sex. I heard Norm getting it on with one of the Omatikaya chicks in the village for a while now, and, all I can think of is when the hell is it going to be my turn? My turn to know what it feels like, to get to see what the big deal is, you know?”

“I know you think about it. I know you think about it with me. I can feel it, I can feel you, whenever we fall asleep together. I know you want me, Teyam. I mean, we’ve come this far, right? Might as well go all the way.” 

“I hope you want me. Because I want you. You’re my best friend, you know everything about me. I want it to be you.”

Neteyam was doing everything in his power to ignore his increasingly harder-to-ignore erection and the way he was twitching at every word that came out of your mouth. Of course he wanted you. You were hot, and you were his. His best friend, the person he’s shared so many intimate moments with, the person that taught him everything he knew about girls, about pleasure, about so many things. But this might be a step too far, a step you could never take back. Neteyam always hoped that one day, by some miracle of the universe, you would get an Avatar, and you would get a chance to be one of the people. There’s nothing he wanted more in this world then to get to keep you forever. But, as the years went past, the possibility of that seemed less and less probable, and Neteyam knew he would have to find a mate one day, and he would have to love her and keep her, forever. He would sleep with her, and mate with her, and she would have his kids, and doing these things with you… he didn’t know how he was supposed to move on with his life like your presence didn’t permeate through every fibre of his being. 

“I do want you, Vol. But I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.” 

“It’s a great idea, Teyam. Think about it.” You chuckled to yourself, eyes shut tightly and fingers rubbing your temples, as if trying to summon the words into your brain.

“What was I saying?”

He laughed at your disorientated predisposition, realising he wasn’t in a much better condition. 

“I forgot.” You kicked your feet up in the air as you remembered. 

“Oh, yeah!! It’s a g-great idea. Because we’ve made out before, right? Multiple times. Because we’ve s-slept in the same bed before, so we know that works. Because we know each other, and we won’t tell anyone else, right? It can just be our little secret, and we have p-plenty of those anyway. Because, because… Because this way, whenever you'll get yourself a mate, you know that you will know what to do and won’t fumble around. I’m doing you a favour, if you think about it. It’s the perfect plan honestly. Foolproof.”

It was hard for Neteyam to argue with your logic, but that may be because the part of his brain that processed logic was dead now. 

The first time you and Neteyam had sex, it was awkward and painful. Turns out there is a lot more fumbling and a lot more preparation and a lot more pain involved than what it is ever portrayed on the screen, and even more so since the man you were sleeping with was twice your size, and those proportions extended to… well, everything. It took a lot of lube and a lot of patience, but you knew you would have wanted no one else to have this experience with. There was no one else in the world that could have made this what it was, something that you would cherish for the rest of your life. He was kind and considerate, and he brushed the tears from your face with his thumbs when the initial pain got too much to bear, and he waited for you to adjust to his impressive length, that felt like it would tear you apart at the seams at times, and he kissed your forehead and whispered about how well you were doing, and how good you felt, and how there was no one else he would rather be doing this with, no one else in the world, not for the rest of time.

The first time promptly led to the second time, and although it took time for you to learn each other’s bodies, in a couple months, the pleasure you felt when he touched you was indescribable, the thrill you got whenever you saw him become putty under your touch boldened you, empowered you, made you want to do this every day, all day, for as long as you lived. In time, you learnt that you liked when he praised you and he loved the sounds he could coax out of you - the louder you were, the harder he got. You both enjoyed being in control once in a while, him most of the time, you - on special occasions. The dance you partook in was intricate and complicated, it was heaven and hell, it was pleasure and pain, it was everything you shouldn’t have and everything you couldn’t keep yourself from. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

As you looked at the man sitting on the ground across from you, eyes so cried out and tired they were seeing red, you knew you had no right to spit such words in his face, but the hurt and heartache, the anger at the unfairness of it all, it was clouding your judgement, making you want to hurt him like his present and upcoming absence from your life was hurting you.

“I know you’re upset about today. I’m sorry.” He looked pained, and he refused to look at you. He looked… spent. Exhausted and sad. Way sadder than you imagined he would be, if this was just about today. Something wasn’t right.

“Why would I be upset about today? You did what you had to do. I mean, she’s going to be your mate soon, right? It’s her hands that should be healing you anyway, not mine.” You eyed the wounds on his body that were now clean, but still red, and still mostly open. “Those are going to scar, by the way.” 

He stood up suddenly. A step is all it took to reach you and his hand on your chest shot bouts of electricity all throughout your body, that you struggled to ignore. It took very little effort for him to push you back onto the bed until the warmth and softness of your blanket touched the skin that wasn’t wrapped in a towel. He followed suit, his body hovering on top of yours, and you felt his braids tickling your face and neck as his eyes bore intensely into yours. 

“Stop. I know you are upset. I wish it could have been you. You know me, Vol. You know I wish it could have been you.” 

You shook your head slightly, dreading how the tears were falling down the sides of your face and nestling in your ears. You didn’t know. Not anymore. 

“You should go, Neteyam. This isn’t right. You’re engaged to someone else. I watched her today, watched how worried she was about you, how desperate to help you, to take you away so it’s just the two of you. You’re going to mate with this girl any day now. There’s no room for me in your life anymore. Not like this, anyway.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The first time you and Neteyam made love came after you were both spent from taking orgasm after orgasm out of each other. You were laying on his chest, tracing each twinkling freckle on it with your index finger, making patterns, making galaxies out of the stars proudly adorning his skin, the most beautiful stars to ever exist, to you. 

Almost as if thinking out loud, you spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.

“You are so beautiful. It hurts me sometimes, the gaping differences between us. How dull and boring I am compared to you. How daft my skin, compared to your shiny, glowy one. How sullen my eyes look when I see them in the reflection of your bright ones, sparkling like the sun. I would give anything to look like you. Anything to be like you.” Sighing, dropping hot wet tears on his chest, you continued. “Everything would be so much easier if I looked like you.” 

Almost uncharacteristically, Neteyam’s hand cupped your cheek gently and tugged slightly until your eyes met.

“Stop. Please. You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. You always have been. Your eyes are like the planets my satellites orbit around. I see them everywhere I go, every moment of my day, every dream I dream at night, there’s nothing else besides your eyes, besides your face, and your lips. Besides the words that come out of them, that somehow guide my every thought, focus my world and let me go on. You are more than beautiful, more than any word invented in any language that we speak. You are everything, ok? Everything.” 

That did nothing to stop your tears, that fell even harder down your cheeks, forming a puddle on his chest. 

“You can’t say these things, Neteyam.”

“Why not?” 

“You know why not.”

“You can’t make me fall in love with you. And you can’t fall in love with me. What we’re doing is already complicated. Already beyond what either of us could explain to anyone we love. And that’s ok, because what we have works. But it won’t work if the feelings run deeper than what depth we’re comfortable swimming in. You’re going to leave me one day, and if you leave me and I’m in love with you, it will break me. So you can’t say things like that to me.”

He had a playful smile on his face, but his eyes were forceful and full of intensity as he got on top of you and looked down into yours. 

“I’m not going to fall in love with you, and you’re not going to fall in love with me. We got this, Vol. But I will never leave you. I could never leave you. You’re my best friend. You’re everything to me.” 

You let out a soft sob that was silenced by his lips pressing on yours and the sound was replaced by pleasured moans and whimpered sounds, of silent confessions that marked the end of comfort and the beginning of the end. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Back when we were still changing for the better

Wanting was enough, for me, it was enough to live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you'd call and say, "Meet me behind the mall"

He sighed as he got off from on top of you, his own tears falling on your face as he did so. He didn’t look at you as he spoke. 

“The engagement is broken.” 

The relief that flooded your mind didn’t have time to wash over you before he continued.

“Because I’m leaving. I’m leaving the Omatikaya, and so is my family.” 

You and Neteyam shared many firsts. Your first heartbreak, the one that would break your spirit and your soul and your bones and ground them into a fine dust to be blown away by the wind, would just be one of many others. 

So much for summer love and saying "us"

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

Taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @pinkpantheris @netemoon @fanboyluvr

GOD FUCKING DAMN I AM INLOVE WITH THIS I LOVE RALAK AND READER OMG BEST AVATAR OC FIC FRRR

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Chapter One

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. I love her and all her art so much that when I saw Ralak I was so compelled to write a fic for him. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Teytey, you knocked it out the park with this one (as you always do, my love).

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: shit ton of fluff, profanity, age gap, a lot of sexual tension, size difference, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: I hope I did this gorgeous man justice and wrote his character well. It was an interesting challenge to introduce his character and build a plot with it. Chapter two and three will be out shortly! I’m beyond overjoyed that you guys are excited for this 😊 I hope I don’t disappoint lool

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

Next ->

The Sully family adopted you from birth, taking you in as their own. They were more than patient with your delayed milestones, moving at the slow pace you set since childhood. You completed your iknimaya a cycle later than your siblings, despite your eagerness to prove your self-worth as one of the Sully’s. Being a late bloomer and smaller than the average na’vi never put a damper on your optimistic attitude, though. It only added fuel to the fire.

The news to seek uturu with the Metkayina came as a shock not only to you but the rest of your siblings, and soon became the leading topic of discussions at family dinner. Jake explained that this is what was necessary, and that you would need to ‘pull your weight’ and ‘make a real effort’. You knew he didn’t mean it as harsh as it sounded, but the words stung nonetheless, plucking out a couple heart strings when they pierced through your chest.

You’ll never forget the day of your arrival here.

War horns blew loudly, signalling your arrival to the village of Awa’atlu. All the members of the clan swarmed the shore to see what the fuss was all about. Even the little ones that could only toddle wriggled their way out of their parents’ arms to get a glimpse. It was overwhelming – to say the least – to have all these eyes on you, scanning every foreign feature of your body, walking around you to inspect you further. You’d never felt more objectified in your life.

When Tonowari and Ronal made their grand entrance on their skimwings, your heart thud furiously in your chest. Sure, the large, winged fish took you by surprise, but the man to Tonowari’s right shook you to your core. His head tilted in wariness, hunting knife secured cautiously in his right hand and the leather wrapped reign gripped tightly in his left.

Wet, long hair plastered to his chest; he eyed you down momentarily before averting his gaze to the rest of your family that calmed their ikrans. His eyes widened ever so slightly at the winged creatures, large with armoured skin, much like the beast he’s bonded with.

You couldn’t help but stare aghast at his sinewy, chiselled features – sculpted by Eywa herself. It didn’t take long for you to understand why he was Tonowari’s right-hand man. His expression of indifference remained fixed on his face. Embodying that of an akula, his presence brought an intimidation like no other.

But what you couldn’t understand were the butterflies that plagued your stomach.

Your gaze lingered for a moment too long, the akula himself now returning the leer. It sent shivers down your spine, turning your butterflies into knots. You looked away, gaze falling onto your toes that burrowed their way into the sand. You felt his eyes bore into you, taking in each dark blue stripe on your tiny body, your slender extremities and thin tail.

You peeked at him through the corner of your eye, to see his gaze locked on your tail as it swished side to side. You saw his ears perk up, and the minor curl of his lips, a sight only a person staring as intently as you would see. You watched as his expression morphed into one of confusion, just before he dropped his head all together. 

You would later come to find out that he couldn’t quite understand his own butterflies in his stomach.

The giant stayed seated on his winged beast, as Tonowari and Ronal dismounted theirs and crossed the shore in only a few strides. Initially, they were wary of your arrival, thinking your family would bring war to their village. After your father reassured them, they were gracious enough to grant uturu for your family, and even dispatched their own children to teach you the ways of the people.

Naturally, you had a hard time adjusting to the new biome, water was never really your thing to begin with. You were slow in the water, slender body only holding you back more. The olo’eyktan’s son, Ao’nung, quickly grew agitated with you, handing you off to his sister, Tsireya, who was already overwhelmed with teaching your siblings. You felt like a burden, holding everyone back during lessons. There was absolutely nothing that you were getting the hang of, not even the ‘finger talk’ as you brother calls it.

For the first in your life, you felt completely defeated.

The sweet, determined girl disappeared, leaving nothing but her shell behind. You started missing lessons, making up reasons to stay back in your family marui pod. You often found yourself alone sitting on the shore in the height of the eclipse, dipping your feet into the warm water. Jake would always find his babygirl, demanding to know what was wrong. But you could never reveal the truth, not after what he said to you before your departure. Especially not now, not after failing so terribly for two entire months.

At this point, your siblings had passed their iknimaya, and you were the only one left.

----

Tsireya presses two fingertips right above your navel, resting her other hand on your chest, fixing your posture. “Breathe from down here. You must slow down your heartbeat, y/n.”

You’ve heard this a million times by now. You know this, but it didn’t matter. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get it. Frustrated, you exhale harshly, gritting your teeth so you won’t speak the words flooding your mind.

“Look. I know you’re frustrated, but you are getting so much better. If we just keep –”

“No! I’m fucking tired of this. I’ll never get it. Alright?!” you shout, shuffling to your feet to.

You scan the circle of surprised na’vi, all of which are staring up at you in disbelief. You could see Tsireya’s face screw with hurt, which only makes your heart ache more. An apology brews in your chest, when all five pairs of eyes flicker to something behind you. Turning on your heels, you see what everyone is looking at.

Jake, Tonowari, and his right-hand man all standing in front of you, presumably listening to your every word. You stand there for a bit, eyes bouncing between Tonowari and Jake before landing on the giant. He stands tall, staring off into the distance with that same deadpan look on his face. His hair is tucked behind his ears, revealing the stud in his lobe, the freckles on his jaw – the deeper blue markings on his neck.

This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him, seeing the first time you two met things were... eventful.

His freckles are conspicuous, even in broad daylight, beautifully patterned and abundant throughout his body. Perhaps it’s his lighter-cyan coloured skin and swirls for stripes, but his freckles twinkled just right from the reflection of the water. They even seemed to trace his stripe pattern on his forehead and brow bones. A single tahni under each eye... his ocean, impassive eyes.

A sleeve of tattoos covers his right arm, a sleeve on his right knee to his ankle, and a tattoo of stripes below his navel that went underneath his – oh. Your brows lift slightly, tensed facial muscles relaxing.

That’s an interesting place for a tattoo.

This tattoo continued between his prominent v-lines, under the band of his loincloth. You begin counting the stripes.

One, two, three, four, five... six.

It takes the sound of Jake clearing his throat for you to reluctantly peel your eyes away from this poor man’s crotch.

“Right, babygirl. Ralak here is going to be your teacher from now on.” Jake motions his hand over to the Metkayina, who’s now visibly, and unsuccessfully, trying to appear friendlier.

You couldn’t help but scoff, frustration now bubbling over in your chest once more. “So what? I’m so shit at this that I need a ‘special’ teacher?” you glance over at Ralak and roll your eyes.

“Language!” Jake whispers harshly, giving you that look. The look he gives you when you’re embarrassing him. 

“No. I’m tired of this. I want to go home.” you shrug, storming past him just for him to wrap his hand around your upper arm and drag you back.

“That’s enough.” Jake growls, bending over to meet you at eye level. “Tonowari has been kind enough to arrange for Ralak to help you. He was once a fisherman.”

“The best. At about your age.” Tonowari stands proudly as he utters the words, “And now he’s one of the best warriors. I hand selected him myself.”

Your eyes flicker over to Ralak, whose ears lay flat against his skull, brows slightly pinched, jaw clenched. It’s hard to tell what he was feeling, his mask of indifference fixed tightly on his face. Was he grimacing? Or maybe he was trying not to.

Regardless, it looked as if the words upset him. Maybe there was something more beneath this cold exterior. Something that maybe you can pry out of him. Something that intrigued you. The corners of your lips curl upwards, an expression that any outsider would perceive as happiness, but Jake knew you had something else in mind.

Something more mischievous.

“I apologize, sir. I am... just frustrated.” your eyes shift from one giant to the next as you bow before the olo’eyktan. “It would be an honour to have Ralak be my...” you glance over at him, “...karyu [teacher].”

Jake remains silent, pursing his lips as he watches the scene unfold.

“Ah. I understand.” Tonowari smirks, shrugging his shoulder. “It is decided, Ralak will teach you.” he looks at Ralak, giving the order, “Today.”

Jake raises his brows at you, as if he were telling you to behave and not cause any trouble. You tilt your head and subtly stick out just the tip of your tongue. Tonowari walks away, a large hand brushing against Jake’s back to signal him to follow. Jake turns around and joins the larger na’vi, two olo’eyktans now making their way back to the tall mangroves.

“Hey, karyu.” you sing, eyes fluttering as you stare up at the towering man.

He looks down at you for a moment, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. His ears twitch as he swiftly turns around, walking away from you. “Come.”

So that’s what his voice sounds like.

It’s gruff, yet smoky. Deep and husky, thick with... nothing but his Metkayina accent. It was flat and monotone, revealing nothing of his true character. You follow closely behind him, already excited about how you plan to get him to reveal more about himself. He seems to be a man of few words, reserved and... composed. You couldn’t deny that there is a part of you that wants to poke at him, to see how far you can take things with him.

Before you know it, you’re standing in a secluded clearing on the shore, nestled far away where the fishermen tend to hunt. You look around, scanning your surroundings with curious eyes. You see a secluded marui pod, seemingly larger than all the others you’ve seen thus far. It's tightly woven with orange and red sturdy material, secured tightly to the thick mangrove roots around it.

“That yours?” you stick him with your first poke of the day, eager eyes trying to look inside the marui.

His gaze remains fixed on the fishnet that he’s gathering in his hands. “Yes.”

“Pretty big for...” you mumble, shifting your gaze towards him to be met with the sight of him unbuckling his cumberbund. “...just one person.” your voice dwindles in volume, fading out into a breathy whisper.

If your eyes could protrude from your head anymore, they would. You always had a hard time masking how you feel as your facial expressions were quick to give it away. His cumberbund falls into the wet sand, embellished razor sharp akula teeth piercing its surface. Your eyes trail up his body, settling on his bare chest.

“Today, fishing net. Tomorrow, ilu.” he mutters, putting his hair into a loose bun as he ventures further into the water.

“O-kay.” the word comes out broken and awkward.

Venturing out into the water, he settles in the spot he used to go frequently as a fisherman. Waist deep into the water, he looks behind him, chin meeting his chest to land his gaze on you, chest-deep in the water. He realizes that he's gone too far out for you, and walks towards you.

Your beaded top plasters to your chest, revealing your peaked nipples as your breasts bounce with the tide. His eyes quickly avert to the shore, eyelids fluttering a little faster than they should.

“Come.” he walks past you, prompting you to follow him once more. You bounce your way back to the shore until the water is crashing into your stomach. “Watch.” he says, fixing his stance to show you a demonstration.

You watch intently, focus being on the wrong thing, honestly. Your eyes had a hard time looking away from his chiselled body – from each dip and ridge of his muscles on full display. How could you focus? Especially now that he’s barely thigh deep into the water, loincloth clung to his bulge. You swallowed thickly at the sight, was that huge thing really his –

“Erm. Got it?” the sound of him clearing his throat snaps you out of your deep thought.

“Mhm!” you nod quickly, doe eyed and genial smiled.

He nods once, handing you the netting. You take it slowly, buying yourself sometime to figure out how to throw this thing. Standing with your left foot in front of your right, you bend your elbows out, holding the yoke of the net close to your chest.

He grunts in disapproval, settling behind you to fix your stance. He gently kicks your feet apart, putting your dominant foot in front. Large hands grip your tiny waist, shifting your stance slightly to the left. They slip up your sides, and run along the length of your upper arms, stopping at your elbows to tuck them in. He’s so focused on correcting your poor posture that he doesn’t even realize how he’s pressing himself against you.

“Like this.” he huffs, hand enveloping yours to shift it further from the yoke of the cast net. “Hold here.” his other hand grabs the lead line and plunks it into yours.

Heart pounding at a dangerous speed, you take a few deep breaths. Perhaps it was the nerves of casting your first net, or maybe it was just how this gentle giant is pressed against you. Either way, you can’t ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach again.

“Now throw.” he says barely over a whisper, backing away from you.

You twist your upper body, core tensing when you throw the net as hard as you can, only for it to clump together rather than spread out. Your shoulders drop and lips press tight, a wave of disappointment washing over you.

“Again.” he orders, pulling the net towards him.

--

Ralak had you throw the net half a dozen more times before giving you your first break. You prodded and poked at him, trying your best pry personal information out of him – to no avail. He remained unaffected by your persistent jabs, revealing nothing other than how he pined for the days of being a fisherman.

“Karyu. I-I’ll never get it.” you huff in frustration, gathering the fishnet from the surface of the water for a tenth time.

“Again.” he says patiently, unbothered by your frustration.

“Karyu. Please. It is not working. Can’t we try something else?” you beg, arms and back sore from throwing the fishnet so many times.

He looks at you for a moment, taking in the slouch of your back – the strain on your face. He felt bad for you, but he could also see that you were so close to learning the skill.

“No. Again.” he orders monotonously, taking note of your gaze drifting off to the mangroves nearby. “Focus. Eyes on me.”

“How am I supposed to focus when you look so, so –” you cut yourself short with a sigh.

“So, what?” he tilts his head and raises a brow.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, landing them right on that damn tattoo again.

Why was it so low? Didn’t that hurt? Why there of all places?

“Look. I see you –”

The words make your eyes snap up to his, heart thumping wildly in your chest.

“...staring.”

You didn’t realise you were lingering until he pointed it out. How could you not? Surely, he chose that spot for a reason. Perhaps his mate wanted it there, so she could trace the lines with her tongue, all the way down to his –

Am I... jealous right now? I don’t even know this man.

“Who did that tattoo?” you question harshly, green flame of envy igniting in your chest.

“This one?” he chuckles softly, tugging at the hem of his loincloth.

You drop your head, gaze locked on your hands fiddling with the net, hoping to hide the blood that’s rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah. That one.”

“Again. And I tell you.” he pulls the hem back up before crossing his arms over his chest.

Your gaze snaps back up to him, eyes wide with excitement. This is the first time he’d be revealing anything personal about himself. A smile splits your lips as you fix the net in your hands once more, burrowing your feet into the sand. Your eyes narrow on the target – a school of fish off in the near distance.

Twisting your torso, you cast the fishnet, watching it splay out perfectly and trap majority of the fish. You stare in awe, surprised that it even splayed out much less caught some fish. Once it registers, you jump up in glee, quickly turning to your teacher to see his pleased expression and slight nod.

“I did.” he utters, a smirk barely pulling at his lips.

Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you’re perplexed by his two words. “Huh?” you huff, brows pinching together in confusion.

“I did the tattoo.” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“Oh.” your lips pucker at the words, furrowed brows now raising in understanding. Being so surprised by yourself – finally getting something right – you forgot about your little deal.

He breaks eye contact to look over at your perfectly casted fishnet. “If you ride an ilu, maybe I show you the rest of it.” he says through his thick accent, making his way towards the fishnet. “Since you are so... interested.”

“I-I’m not – it, it is just in a – an interesting spot.” you stutter, eyes locked onto your twiddling thumbs.

“Ah.” he gathers the fishnet in his large hands, bundling it together to call it a day. “If you say so... vultsyìp [stick; tree branch]”

“What did you just call me?” your leer snaps up, eyelids squinting at his tensed back muscles that flex and relax as he gathers the net.

A smile pulls at his lips, although you can barely see it from the angle in which he’s facing. It’s contagious, causing your own lips to curl, and soon enough you’re giggling into your hand.

----

Ralak became the light in the darkness, pulling you out of your shell and filling you with the purpose that you once lost. Things came quick to you, thanks to him. He was a great teacher, always patient with you, never showing his agitation – or any other emotion for that matter.

You learned how to hold your breath properly in only a week, due to his persistence and confidence in you. He’d always be quick to praise you after you accomplished something, whether that be with a quick clap, a gentle tap on the back, or – in bigger accomplishments – a hug.

The bond between the two of you strengthened. Overnight. You put a crack in his walls, and bits of his true self began to shine through them. And that was your biggest accomplishment yet. To see a person with the strength of five men turn into a little water puppy in front of you, and you only.

There would be moments where his façade of indifference would drop completely. The moments where he would chuckle a little too loudly, a little too long. Where that shy smile grew wide enough to flash his lengthy canines, and a primal part of you that you tried to supress, desired to know what they felt like sunk into your neck. Clamping down on you while you writhe underneath him, being tamed by his touch.

The moments where you’d tease one another about your differences. His stature in comparison to yours. Pressing your hands together, only for yours to be lost in his palm. And when you pulled away, your fingers intertwined ever so slightly, prickling the skin all over your body. He loved to tease you. Honestly a little too much, poking at your chest with a figurative finger about how you favoured that of a vultsyìp. It’s what got you riled up the most and soon it became your nickname.

Until the day you successfully rode your first ilu.

It was an exhilarating experience, nothing like what you had experienced prior. You glided through the water effortlessly, flowing with the movements of the blubbery creature. When you broke the waters’ surface, Ralak stood proudly in the shallow end, arms crossed over his chest with a smile on his face. It was a rare occurrence – that smile.

And when you laid your eyes on such a sight, the butterflies flew back into your stomach, fluttering and flapping harder than they ever have. They soon became plenty in number, filling your stomach to the brim until you can no longer suppress the way you feel. The flutter in your stomach radiated throughout your body, sending your legs fluttering too. You swam quickly to him, surprising yourself with your speed.

--

“You did it. Like I said.” he smiles smugly.

“Hope you didn’t forget about our deal.” you grin, wringing out the water from your hair.

“You would not let me.” he scoffs, shaking his head as he uncrosses his arms. “Ready?” he asks, cocking a brow while his fingers glide down his stomach, finding purchase under the under the band of his loincloth.

“From the moment I saw it, karyu.” you say, voice feigned with confidence.

He could see through your disguise, though. It only makes him chuckle, to see such a little thing act so big – so dauntless. He tugs his loincloth down, taut strings now sinking into his upper thighs, revealing not only the entirety of his tattoo but also the base of his length.

“H-how did you manage to do that all on your own? Didn’t it hurt?” you ask sheepishly, voice laced with concern.

“Bottle of fermented fruit and a rag to bite. No pain.” he answers, Metkayina accent thick.

You examine it a little closer, leaning in to have a better look. It’s raised, very slightly – invisible to anyone not staring as intently as you are. Most definitely because it’s hand poked, by himself of all people. An innocent thought floods your mind, so loud that you couldn’t stop the movement of your own hand.

How does it feel?

“Can I –” you glance up at him briefly, hand hovering over the tattoo, “Can I touch it?”

His brows and ears shudder for just a few seconds. He quickly regains his composure, swallowing silently before giving you a single nod. Fingertips experimentally graze over the tattoo, taking in its bumpy texture. Your digits trace each line of his tattoo, down to his pelvis. A sudden jerk of his hips causes you to yank your hand back.

“S-sorry, Ralak.” you mumble, feeling a little ashamed that you may have made him uncomfortable.

But in all honesty, your innocent, little touches were arousing him and he didn’t want you to know. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” he states, fixing his loincloth.

You straighten your spine, a foot stepping back to create space that you think he wants, only for him to pull you in for a hug.

“You did well today, vultsyìp.” he mumbles, hands resting on your head and back. “Tsurak [skimwing] next and you will be Metkayina.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” you giggle, warm embrace and snarky commentary ebbing away whatever feelings of doubt tensing your chest.

It’s the way his huge arms engulf you that make you feel so protected and accepted. It’s something you always looked forward to after a big achievement. You lean into him, laying your head on his chest. The smell of sea salt mixed with leather hide wafts up your nose. You take a deep breath, holding it in your lungs until you feel light in the head. Releasing your breath with a loud huff, you smile widely.

It’s so enticing, so addictive.

“You always do that.” he chuckles breathily, swiping back a few strands of hair stuck to your temple.

“’ts not my fault you sea people smell so good.” you mumble into his chest, taking in another deep breath.

“Ah.” he exhales, hand cupping the back of your head. “My hì’i vultsyìp [little stick]” he almost grimaces at his words, it just wasn’t fitting anymore. Not for situations like these. Not when his chest feels so tight.

You lift your head and stare up at him with eyes of innocence. He looks down at you, ocean blue eyes searching yours. You’d never even noticed the little yellow ring around his pupils until now, how they shimmer when the light catches them just right. There’s an unspoken tension, thick in the air – so thick it makes you swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks. Your smile fades, lips parting as your breaths turn hot.

Eyes growing heavy, they almost close in anticipation that he might – just might – kiss you.

“Tanhì.” he mutters, eyes minutely shifting between each freckle on your forehead. He’s counts them, admiring how they embellish your supple, dark blue skin.

Your smile returns like it never left, except it’s wider – brighter. The last ray of sun shines through the sliver of a gap between your silhouettes, averting your attention to the oncoming eclipse.

“Thank you, karyu.” you whisper, reluctantly pulling away from his arms to make the trek back home.

“Tomorrow...” he watches your small figure shrink as you walk away. “...my tanhì.”

--

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best bucky fic ive read period

•°∘∗ treacherous ∗∘°•

summary: you’re asking yourself why he keeps coming back, he’s asking himself why you keep letting him in. it’s a treacherous slope but neither of you can turn back now.

pairing: outlaw!bucky barnes x female reader

warnings: SMUT (18+, minors DNI), swearing, fluff, angst, mention of: alcohol, blood, injuries, guns, death, murder, violence, and non-con (it’s alluded to in regards to an unnamed character).

length: 16.8k

a/n: written for my 3k celebration, the prompt is bolded. i know nothing of the old west but this is fiction so. title inspired by this song and one part of this fic is inspired by a scene in butch cassidy & the sundance kid (if u know which part ur cool). second time writing smut ✌😬.

You never could quite handle the sight of blood, nor could you ever hide your instinctual response to it. Your father used to terrorise you with the cuts he’d sometimes earn from a hard day’s work, always finding your reactions humorous.

Each time he would smile and say, “You’ll get used to it one day, kid.”

That day didn’t come while he was alive and it hadn’t come now.

Opening your front door to the man you’d spied knocking on it from the kitchen window, you almost shut it again.

The stranger towers above you, his frame taking up the entire doorway, but your focus is drawn down to where his hands - covered in dirt and blood, press above his left hip.

“Ma’am,” He greets in a gruff tone. “I hate to bother you, but I find myself in need of some assistance…” The man nods to his injury, as if it had gone unnoticed by you.

It takes a moment for you to respond and when you do it’s with a jerky bob of your head as you step out of the doorway.

One blood stained hand raises to tip his hat at you as he enters.

Your eyes follow him as he wanders into the kitchen to his left, a slight sway in his steps.

How long has he been bleeding out?

Shutting the front door, you finally find your voice. “What do you need?”

Grunting as he lowers himself into a chair at your small, rectangular table, he answers “Rag, needle, thread, and alcohol - whiskey preferably.”

Removing his hat, he places it on the tabletop.

Okay, he’s done this before.

Focusing on the task he’s provided, you move around the kitchen and sitting room across from it, gathering each item.

The stranger is in luck. Your father had loved whiskey and there’s still plenty of bottles stashed away in the cupboard.

When you come to stand in front of him with everything in hand, you find that he’s lifted his shirt, providing an unobstructed view of his injury.

There’s so much…

“Bullet just grazed me.” The man observes quietly to himself. “Still made one hell of a mess though.” He grumbles, finally lifting his head.

Blood. There’s so much blood and the skin has -

A deep, rough laugh pulls you from your spiralling, making you swallow thickly.

“It’s alright darlin’.” There’s a lighter edge to his tone. “Just put the stuff on the table, I’ve got it.”

You do as he directs but remain where you are.

The man opens the bottle of whiskey first and takes three healthy swigs before pouring the liquid over his wound, hissing.

Quickly averting your gaze with a wince, you focus on his face instead.

What skin you can see is dirty, like his clothes. It’s clearly been some time since he last bathed or even tidied his appearance. His hair is long and tangled. You think it’s naturally a dark brown but it’s hard to be certain. A thick, wild beard hides most of his mouth and half his face, while a sharp nose -

Oh god.

You’ve seen the wanted posters hanging around town. Heard the stories that accompanied them.

Bucky Barnes.

The famed outlaw, responsible for some of the decade’s most daring robberies and revered as the fastest gunslinger in the west, is sitting in your kitchen. Tending a gunshot wound.

For the briefest moment you wonder who it was that shot him and what their fate had been.

Then you realise that’s something you really don’t want to know.

“Ma always said I could never be a tailor.” The man - Bucky mutters, eyeing his truthfully pitiful stitching. “But it’ll do.”

Placing the blood soaked rag on the table, along with the needle and leftover thread, Bucky’s eyes meet yours as he swallows another mouthful of whiskey.

You feel the shift in the air as he sets the bottle back down.

Somehow he knows.

“I’m not lookin’ for any trouble ma’am.”

“Says the man famous for trouble.” You can’t help but retort.

Did I seriously just smart mouth him?

To your shock Bucky merely grins, his teeth surprisingly white and clean. “That’s fair, but a pretty girl’s house isn’t exactly where I make my trouble.” Morphing his grin into a smirk, he amends “Unless I’m asked.”

Your skin heats at the insinuation.

“I won’t be asking.” You state firmly.

“Then you’ve got nothin’ to fear.” Bucky assures, his mouth returning to its serious line underneath his beard.

He regards you carefully and it’s only then that you notice his eyes are the most electrifying blue.

“I best be on my way.”

The sudden declaration should fill you with relief, but as you watch Bucky rise from the chair with an unsteady step, you hear yourself saying “You can stay.”

Something tells you the last time he bathed was also the last time he had a decent meal or rest. He wouldn’t be finding any of those things nearby, especially in his condition.

It’s a miracle he even found you.

The downward tilt of Bucky’s eyebrows is the only indication of his confusion as he looks up from the hat in his hands. “Are you -”

“Just for the night and no funny business.”

Bucky’s eyes study you again and you swear no one has ever looked at you with such intensity.

Then he blinks, focusing on the front door over your shoulder. “I left my guns with my horse. You can keep ‘em with you if it’ll make you feel better.” Meeting your gaze once more, his deep voice rumbles “But I promise you won’t need ‘em.”

How much was an outlaw’s promise worth?

Eyeing him in the same observing manner, you begin to understand what Bucky had been searching for.

Slowly shaking your head, you tell him “It’s alright.”

You had your father’s shotgun should it come to that and you were familiar with the weapon.

“I’ll show you the bathroom.” You declare, striding out of the kitchen. “If you’re gonna stay, you’re gonna be clean.”

Behind you, Bucky responds with a - dare you say, amused “Yes ma’am.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Your eyes fall shut as you lean back against the front door, sucking in a deep breath of the crisp afternoon air.

There’s an outlaw in my bathroom.

Re-opening your eyes at that insane truth, you realise you’re not alone.

Bucky’s horse watches you curiously from where she stands in front of the porch steps, her gorgeous white coat shining under the setting sun.

Descending the steps cautiously, you extend a hand to the mare, letting her sniff you. When she makes a soft whinny and nudges at your hand, you move it to stroke her neck.

Her calm temperament surprises you, as she gladly allows you to lead her over to the barn not far from the house.

You settle her in a stall opposite your own horse, Chester. A gelding you aptly named after his chestnut complexion.

When you relieve her of Bucky’s saddle, you spot two guns amongst his belongings, just like he said you would. You leave them there in the barn.

Back in the kitchen, you clear everything except the quarter filled whiskey bottle from the table.

He might as well finish it off.

Wiping down the wooden tabletop to erase any trace of blood, you lift the bottle to clean under it and get a large whiff of the alcohol, making you pause.

It’s been years since you smelt the once common scent and it has memories flickering behind your eyes as you realise you’ve missed it.

Shaking your head, you put the bottle back down.

An hour passes, Bucky yet to emerge from the bathroom.

You stir dinner distractedly, staring out the window in front of you that overlooks the barn and the great nothingness beyond it as the sky slowly darkens.

“Smells good.”

Christ.

Heart thumping sturdily at the small fright, you let the wooden spoon rest against the side of the pot and turn to face Bucky.

Oh.

It’s no wonder he took so long. Bucky had found good use in a pair of scissors and your father’s razor.

His wild, untamed beard has been reduced to stubble, highlighting a handsome jawline. Bucky’s hair - which is a dark brown and currently damp, curls under his ears instead of brushing against his shoulders.

Definitely trouble.

However, dressed in your father’s old clothes, it’s hard to find him as intimidating. 

Your father had been a stout man, so you knew the clothes wouldn’t be a perfect fit.

The pants are a bit baggy and come up short, ending above the ankles of his bare feet, while the shirt tucked into them is an even looser fit. Bucky has rolled up the long sleeves to keep them out of his way, revealing just how thick and muscular his arms are.

“I can wash your clothes if you like.” You offer, realising you’ve been staring.

“No need darlin’,” Bucky responds smoothly “Washed them with me and hung ‘em over the porch.”

You hadn’t even heard the front door open or close.

“Kid, that wanderin’ mind a’yours is gonna get you in trouble one day.”

Nodding, you gesture to the table. “Well take a seat, dinner’s ready.”

Dishing out two bowls of stew, you place one in front of him, along with a basket of bread rolls.

“Can’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal.” Bucky divulges, taking the spoon you offer him.

Sitting in the chair opposite him, you say “There’s plenty more if you want it.”

The two of you eat in silence, Bucky at a much faster pace. You’re only finishing your first serving when he begins his third.

Guess it has been a while since he last ate.

Or maybe this is just his usual appetite. 

“Is it just you here?” Bucky asks after polishing off another bread roll, ending the quiet stretch.

In any other circumstance you’d think twice before giving an honest answer, but it’s pointless to lie to him now.

“Yes, it used to be my father and I, but he died two years ago.”

The pain his loss caused wasn’t something you could describe.

Your mother passed away when you were only four, taken by illness. If it weren’t for the two photographs your father had of her, you wouldn’t even know what she looked like.

After she died it was just you and him.

When his health began failing him some years ago, you both knew it was only a matter of time. You had just hoped for more.

Adjusting to life without your father had been challenging, but you were fortunate. You’d been left with a home - having no one else to come claim it, and the money that came from loaning out the land to cattle ranchers. It kept you fed, warm, and content.

Bucky lifts his eyes to look at you. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

You nod, your throat tight with emotion.

Pushing up from the table, you take your empty bowl to the sink as Bucky continues eating.

The subject of your father’s passing stopped affecting you heavily some time ago, but it seems the turmoil of today’s events has brought your pain back to the surface.

“I’ll get your bed ready.” You announce, leaving the kitchen.

He’ll stay in the spare room - your father’s old room. It’s bigger than yours, but you could never find the will to claim it as your own. You were happy in your childhood room.

Grabbing sheets from the bedroom’s wardrobe, you start making the bed.

The room is sparse, containing only the bed with a small table either side of it, the wardrobe, and a chair. On one bedside table sits the two photographs of your mother.

You’re slipping a cover over the pillow when Bucky’s figure appears in the doorway.

“Have enough to eat?”

You doubt there’s any leftovers.

“More than, your cookin’s somethin’ else.” He declares.

A smile escapes before you can stop it.

You’ve always loved cooking and it’s been years since you’ve had someone to feed or receive compliments from.

Dropping the pillow, you look over at Bucky and find his gaze fixated on the bed.

“I’ll leave you be.” You state, moving towards the door.

Still staring at the bed, Bucky steps further into the room and out of your way.

Glancing at him one last time, you utter out a soft “Goodnight Bucky.”

You’re startled by how quickly his dark blue eyes jump to you. Then you realise it’s the first time you’ve spoken his name.

“What’s your name, darlin’?”

A pause.

Softly, you tell him your name.

Bucky’s deep voice repeats it, adding “Thank you, for everything.”

His tone is lighter again, like it had been earlier after he laughed, allowing you to hear the emotion in it - sincerity, in this instance.

You’re not sure why it pleases you so much.

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

When you wake you’re not as well rested as you’d like, eyelids heavy and unwilling to open.

You spent most of the night tossing and turning, all too aware of the outlaw just two doors down.

Forcing your eyes open, you sluggishly get out of bed, taking your time getting dressed and fixing your hair.

Emerging from your bedroom, you peer down the hall to your right. The bathroom resides next to your room, the spare room next to it. Both rooms have their doors wide open, unoccupied.

Taking a few steps down the hall until you reach the opening on your left that leads into the sitting room, you walk in and find Bucky to your right, in the kitchen... making breakfast?

“Mornin’,” Bucky greets as you approach. Cracking two eggs into a pan, he answers your unspoken question. “Figured I at least owed ya breakfast.”

You weren’t going to argue that.

Taking a seat at the table, you ask “How did you sleep?”

Peering at you over his shoulder, Bucky replies “Like a rock.”

“And your wound?”

“Healin’ just fine.”

Bucky’s still wearing the clothes you gave him, but judging by the heat you can already feel in the air, you know his will be dry before you even finish breakfast.

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You walk back to the house with Bucky on your right and his horse - Alpine, as he’d introduced, on his other side.

He doesn’t mount the mare until you’ve reached the steps that lead up to your front porch. When he does you’re stunned by the ease and swiftness his large body executes the movement with.

“Thanks again darlin’.” Bucky nods, touching the brim of his weathered black hat. “For your cookin’ especially.”

Back in his own clothes with a gun belt around his hips, Bucky looks every bit like the outlaw he is.

For the second time since you’ve met, your mouth takes on a mind of its own. “Well, if you ever find yourself this way again maybe I’ll cook you something else.”

The edges of his lips turn up in a smirk at your offer. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a light press of his leg into Alpine’s side, the white beauty starts moving forward. You watch as she builds her momentum until she’s galloping, her and her rider becoming nothing more than a dot on the horizon.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 7 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

Truthfully, you never expected to see Bucky Barnes again.

The memory of his visit had been stored away at the back of your mind and some days you wondered if it ever even happened - if it had simply been a daydream you’d gotten too lost in.

However, the knocking you hear on your front door one afternoon weeks later is very much real. As real as the man you see standing on your porch through the window above your kitchen sink.

Once you’ve opened the door, Bucky smiles in a way you can only describe as mischievous.

“Hi darlin’.”

You’re relieved to find not one speck of blood on him, just dirt.

Bucky’s maintained his shorter hairstyle but his beard has thickened, though not to the wild state it’d been in when you first met. 

You realise your memory had failed to capture the precise blue of his eyes, as well as the depth of his voice.

Quirking an eyebrow - but giving a small smile nonetheless, your only response is “Bathroom.”

Chuckling, Bucky tips his hat at you, stepping out of his muddy boots before entering the house. You assume the bag in his hand contains clothes since he doesn’t ask for any as he disappears into the hallway.

Walking out onto the porch, you meet Alpine at the bottom of the steps and stroke her neck in greeting, leading her over to the barn.

Bucky’s left his guns on his saddle once again and you place all his belongings on one of the workbenches before settling Alpine in the same stall she’d occupied last time.

After stopping by Chester’s stall to dote on the horse, you head back to the house and start making dinner.

It’s not too long after when you hear heavy footsteps cross through the sitting room, followed by the front door opening.

Glancing to your left, to the window above the sink that looks out onto the porch, you watch as Bucky hangs his wet clothes over the railing.

He disappears from view and you hear the front door shut before his voice fills the room “How ya been darlin’?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you answer with a simple “Good.”

You’re caught off guard when Bucky appears on your right, the smell of the soap he just used invading your senses.

Standing side by side, it’s impossible to ignore his imposing height.

The top of your head barely reaches his broad shoulders and you feel like you have to look up and up to see his face.

You lower your gaze as your heartbeat accelerates, unnerved by Bucky’s sudden closeness. However, it slows as you spy him inhaling the contents of the pot simmering on the stove in front of you.

“‘M starvin’.” He quietly groans.

Smiling, you roll your eyes and tell him “It’ll be done soon.” Pointing to a cupboard at the end of the kitchen you add “There’s whiskey in there if you want some.”

When Bucky doesn’t move or say anything in response you look up at him again, startled to find him staring at you intently.

“You a saint or somethin’ darlin’?”

He speaks gruffly, but you hear a trace of humour in his tone.

Scoffing, your gaze drops again as you take a step towards him, so you can stand in front of the counter. Bucky takes a step backwards to accommodate you.

“What’s saintlike about offering someone whiskey? And to an outlaw no less.”

As the last part slips from your mouth, you tense.

“You’re always talkin’ first and thinkin’ later, kid.”

Bucky merely hums in response, turning around to lean against the counter as his arms fold. The action pulls his shirt tight across his chest.

Not that you’re paying attention to that sort of thing.

“Isn’t that what saints do? Help lost souls?” He drawls.

“You’re lost?” You retort sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at him.

That earns a chuckle from him as he shakes his head. “Nah, I’m always right where I wanna be.”

Bucky’s midnight blue gaze hasn’t left you once, while yours constantly shifts away, like it does now. “And that’s here instead of somewhere nice?”

“Nice costs money.”

Your eyes dart up to his for no less than a second before flitting away.

This time you’re smart enough to not say the first thing that comes to mind.

Concentrating instead on the corn in your hands, you jump when you feel the rough pad of Bucky’s index finger under your chin, nudging your head up until you meet his gaze.

“Don’t start holdin’ your tongue now darlin’.” Bucky states in a low tone, dropping his hand.

Your heart is racing again, but you’re not sure if it’s from fear or... something else.

Swallowing thickly, you manage to voice “I thought you’d have plenty of money.”

“Sometimes I do.”

“Sometimes?”

Really can’t help myself, can I?

The left side of Bucky’s mouth twitches. “It’s not always about the money,” He answers vaguely.

You frown, “Then what’s it about?”

At last, Bucky smirks. “Curious thing, ain’t ya?”

The comment flusters you.

“Why do you wanna know?” Bucky deflects, leaning in until his face is only inches from yours. “Thinkin’ about joinin’ the life darlin’?”

“No thank you.” The bite of your words is lost in your breathless tone, the result of his close proximity.

Bucky just huffs out a laugh, his breath tickling your face. Then he’s gone, strolling across the kitchen for the whiskey you offered hours ago - or so it feels, and that’s the end of that.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷

Waking with a deep inhale, your eyes blink repeatedly against the bright sunlight your curtains do little to block.

You stretch with a satisfied hum, having found sleep much easier than the last time Bucky stayed the night.

It’s well into the morning so you dress quickly, curious to see if Bucky’s still here, maybe even making breakfast again, or if he’s already taken off.

When you venture down the hall into the sitting room, you find the answer to your question lounging in an armchair, one of your favourite books in his big hands.

“Not an early riser, are you darlin’?” Bucky drawls conversationally, not looking up from the page he’s reading.

You frown, crossing your arms. “It’s morning, isn’t it?”

He’s right though, you’re not one to rise with the sun - never have been. The few times you have are few and far between, the most recent being on his last visit.

Regardless, it’s not that observation that has you feeling defensive.

“Ten o’clock is hardly mornin’, you’ve missed half the day.” There’s nothing in his tone to suggest it, but you know he’s teasing.

It goes straight over your head however, as you’re too focused on what’s in his hands.

“Enjoying the book?” You snark at him.

Bucky smirks.

Oh yeah, he’s definitely winding me up on purpose.

“Tell me, are all your books so -” Bucky breaks off in a chuckle as you pluck the worn book out of his hands and press it to your chest. “So... romantic?”

You grasp the book a little tighter, having half a mind to hit him over the head with it for the gleam in his eyes.

An urge you think he senses.

“I like their humour.” Is your only answer.

Bucky hums lazily, clearly finding your answer lacking as he raises out of the chair.

The visual reminder of his towering height briefly shortens your breath.

Gazing down at you, Bucky lightly brushes against your side as he heads towards the kitchen. “I’ll go warm up breakfast.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 5 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

You’re not sure what shocks you more when you open the front door. The fact that Bucky is clean, or the fact that he’s holding flowers.

Flowers.

It’s definitely the flowers.

You recognise the handiwork too. Clara, an elderly woman who was as kind as they come, grew all sorts of flowers and sold them from a stall in town.

They’re a little wilted from the long ride here, but still vibrant and pretty.

Resting a shoulder against the doorframe, inadvertently bringing him closer, Bucky’s deep voice teases “What’s the matter darlin’? No man ever bring you flowers before?”

Dragging your gaze up from the bouquet and narrowing it, you jab “I’m just wondering if they’re stolen.”

Bucky only chuckles at your bite, like you expect him to.

You’re not sure what to make of that realisation - that you expect things from him.

Holding the flowers out to you, he states “They’re paid for darlin’, I promise.”

There he goes again, making another promise.

Kept his last one, didn’t he?

Your facade doesn’t last long either way, the corners of your mouth turning upwards as you accept the flowers, your fingers brushing over Bucky’s hand in the process.

Raising the flowers to your nose - and ignoring the tingle in your fingertips, you breathe in their scent, the stems of lavender standing out the most.

Before you can thank him, Bucky’s bending forward and ducking his head until his dark blue eyes are level with yours. “Was the money technically mine...”

Your mouth drops open as he trails off, his implication hanging clear in the air.

Bucky gives a genuine laugh at your reaction, the warm sound almost eliciting one from you as he pushes away from the door.

You watch him saunter down the porch steps to take Alpine to the barn, completely and utterly bewildered by this outlaw.

He looked dangerous with his imposing height, broad shoulders, and wide chest that peeked through the unbuttoned top of his long sleeve shirts. The same shirts that his muscled arms bulged beneath.

Not to mention his roguish features - the dark hair, thick beard, and piercing blue eyes.

He sounded dangerous, his voice deep and coarse in a way you’d never heard before, every word he spoke seeming to rumble out of him.

He just didn’t act dangerous.

Outlaws weren’t giving, they didn’t tease, or smile, or laugh, and they certainly didn’t let some girl smart mouth them.

However, you weren’t a complete fool.

You knew there was another, more prominent side of him that you were yet to truly witness. You saw glimpses of it sometimes - of the outlaw.

A man who was used to being respected or feared, or both. A man who had the strength and skill to take whatever he wanted, when he wanted it, and without asking.

Then Bucky would blink or turn away, and that momentary glimpse you were afforded passed.

It shouldn’t drive you mad, it shouldn’t make you want to see that side of him, yet... it did.

If you thought about it too long - the image of him being rough and commanding like his lifestyle demands, well...

You jump when Bucky’s hand waves in front of your face.

Looking up from the spot on the porch you’d been staring at but not actually seeing as you lost yourself in your thoughts, you meet Bucky’s blue eyes below his furrowed brow.

“You really get lost in there, don’t ya darlin’?”

Thoughts still scattered, you absentmindedly respond “I don’t mean to.”

Bucky just hums.

Shaking your head to finally clear it, you walk back into the house, listening as Bucky shuts the front door behind him.

Grabbing the old, empty vase that sits on the small glass table in the sitting room, you bring it to the kitchen sink and fill it with water before arranging the flowers in it.

You can feel Bucky’s gaze following you as he takes his usual seat at the dining table, but it doesn’t unsettle you.

Returning the vase to its place in the sitting room, you admire the flowers once more with a soft smile before treading back to the kitchen.

When you pass Bucky you let out a small, confused sound as you come to a sudden stop.

Spinning to face him, you feel the skirt of your light green prairie dress tighten around your legs, and you discover the cause when you spot Bucky’s hand holding onto the bottom of your dress.

“What are you -” You start, flabbergasted until you actually focus on the section Bucky has grabbed.

“What happened?” He asks, not even having to look up from where he sits to meet your gaze.

The fabric is ripped, splitting the skirt upwards about four inches. There’s a scratch to match it along the back of your right leg, which you assume Bucky must have seen.

You can’t read any emotion on his face, but you sense that he’s not pleased.

Strange.

“I was trying to fix the curtain rod in your - the spare room, but the wooden crate I was using broke and I fell.”

Fell seems like an exaggeration.

There wasn’t much distance between you and the ground, but you had landed awkwardly, the wood catching on your dress and scratching your leg - thankfully not deep enough to draw blood.

Currently, you’re more concerned about how you almost referred to the spare room as Bucky’s.

When did it become his room?

Bucky frowns at you but doesn’t speak, making you frown back.

A moment passes before he finally releases your dress, standing up. Still silent, Bucky turns and strides towards the hallway.

By the time you catch up he’s already in the spare room, assessing the window.

You’d been replacing the curtains when the curtain rod bracket came off the wall on one side. It just needed to be screwed back in but the bracket was out of your reach.

The screwdriver sits on the windowsill, where you left it while you tossed the broken crate outside with some unfriendly words as your leg throbbed.

Grabbing the tool, Bucky reaches up to screw the bracket back in, the height not even a stretch for him.

Picking the curtain rod off the bed, you sit down in the same spot and bunch the curtains in your lap, keeping them off the floor as you watch Bucky quickly complete the task.

Turning around, he takes the curtain rod from you and hangs it up.

“What else?”

You stare at him for a second before pointing to the wardrobe behind you. “The right door’s a little loose.”

Diligently, he rounds the bed to the wardrobe and opens the right door, tightening the screws in the top hinge.

“I thought it was you the first time I saw it.” Bucky says abruptly, nodding to the bedside table closest to him where two photographs sit.

Both are of your mother.

In one she’s holding you as a child - you’re no more than two years old, on her lap with a smile. In the other she’s by herself and younger, about the age you are now.

“I once told my dad that I wished I could remember what she looked like, he told me to look in the mirror.”

He hadn’t been exaggerating, the resemblance between you and her was clear as day. Something that always made you wonder if it was hard for him at times - being constantly reminded of her when he looked at you.

You might not have been old enough to remember it, but the love your father had for your mother shone brightly, never once fading over the years that followed her death.

“He said that was the only thing we had in common,” Grinning, you drop your voice to a faux whisper as you repeat your father’s loving words “She was a horrid cook and complete trouble maker.”

Bucky grins at that, giving a slight shake of his head as he swings the mended wardrobe door shut. “I dunno darlin’, I think you’re plenty of trouble.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

After dinner is eaten and the dishes are cleaned, you always move into the sitting room for a bit while Bucky heads straight to bed.

Tonight however, he’s joined you.

Each sitting in an armchair across from one another, he nurses a glass of whiskey while you stitch the ripped fabric of your dress back together.

You use the light provided by the oil lamp and candles on the glass table between you and Bucky, placed around your vase.

As you glance at the flowers you realise you never actually thanked him for them.

Drawing your eyes higher, you’re not alarmed when you meet Bucky’s gaze.

He’s always watching you.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

Bucky was right of course, no man has ever given you flowers before.

“My pleasure darlin’.” His deep voice rumbles.

You’re not sure why you suddenly feel so warm.

“And for fixing those things for me.”

It’s not like you don’t do anything for him in return, but you still want him to know you appreciate the help.

“I’ll fix anythin’ you need,” Bucky states a little rougher “Just don’t go hurtin’ yourself again.”

I didn’t do it on purpose, you almost huff out.

Bucky must anticipate the retort or something similar to it, because he stands, finishing the rest of his whiskey in one mouthful.

He takes his glass to the kitchen sink before returning, clearly on his way to bed.

“See you in the morning.” You say as he passes you.

“You mean afternoon?” Bucky calls back, his tone lighter.

This time you do huff, letting out a quiet “Shut up.”

His chuckle echoing down the hall lets you know you were heard.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 4 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

The fourth time you open your front door to Bucky Barnes is... different from the others.

Nothing’s wrong per se, but it’s not right either.

Bucky’s the dirtiest you’ve ever seen him. In fact, you’re struggling to find a visible patch of skin on him.

His large hands rest on the top of the doorframe and his dark blue eyes bore into you the moment the door is open.

“Darlin’.” The word is spoken bluntly and you instantly know he’s not in the mood to talk.

You have a short-lived thought of turning him away.

Instead, you step to your left, silently inviting him inside.

For the first time since you’ve met, Bucky feels dangerous.

Especially when you eye the guns still on his hips.

If this had been the Bucky who knocked on your door while bleeding out, you’re certain you never would have let him stay the night - let alone return.

Bucky trudges off to the bathroom, your eyes trailing after him.

When you hear the bathroom door shut you release a short breath, looking outside to find another irregularity.

Your feet carry you out onto the porch and down the three steps without a thought, drawn to where Alpine patiently waits.

She greets you cheerfully, nuzzling into your hands and covering them with dirt. She’s filthy.

Every other visit her white coat has gleamed, leaving you no doubt that Bucky cared for her deeply. Yet, like her owner, it’s hard to find a clean spot on her.

Alpine makes a noise and seems to nod towards the barn, as if to tell you that she needs food, water, rest, a bath.

The irritation you felt at Bucky’s stiff demeanour is replaced with concern.

You were in town only yesterday and hadn’t heard of any new incidents involving Bucky.

Not that you were keeping an ear out.

“What happened, huh?” You ask Alpine, leading her to the barn.

She simply whinnies in response.

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You’ve just started drying Alpine when you hear heavy footsteps enter the barn.

Her white coat shines once more, the familiar sight easing you, unlike the man approaching.

Bucky’s body radiates warmth as he comes to stand behind you, the scent of soap filling the air.

Daring to glance at him over your shoulder, you find him clean but worn out, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by.

Wordlessly, you let him take over the task.

You prepare Alpine’s stall, stocking it with fresh food and water while Bucky dries her. He’s quietly murmuring to the horse, but you can’t hear his words over the sound of Alpine chewing hay.

When Bucky’s finished he leads Alpine into the stall, closing and locking the gate behind her.

It’s almost humorous. Alpine and Bucky are clean but now you’re not. Your dress is soaked and covered in mud.

The walk back to the house is taken in silence.

“I’ll start dinner after I clean up.” You tell Bucky once you’re inside.

He gives no response.

After your bath you change into a simple white dress, the fabric light and less likely to make you sweat until you switch into your nightgown later on.

Stepping into the kitchen, you find Bucky leaning back in his usual seat, a bottle of whiskey opened on the table in front of him and almost finished.

You decide to make one of your specialties for dinner, hoping it will... well, you’re not really sure what you’re hoping it will do.

As you move around the kitchen you feel Bucky’s eyes on you, tracking your every movement as you keep your back to him more often than not.

That is until you have nothing left to do but let dinner simmer on the stove.

Turning around, you rest your back against the kitchen counter and meet Bucky’s stare.

He doesn’t shift his gaze and neither do you.

“What happened?” You ask quietly.

You don’t expect an answer and Bucky’s continued silence tells you there won’t be one.

Probably for the best.

Instead, Bucky lifts the whiskey bottle and swallows another mouthful, emptying it.

Pushing off the counter, you tread over to him.

“You should have some water.” You state, reaching for the bottle.

Before your hand can wrap around it, it’s grabbed by one of Bucky’s, the quick manoeuvre drawing your gaze.

He doesn’t look at you as he turns your hand over in his, focusing instead on your palm as he runs his thumb over the lines of your smoother skin.

You watch in a dazed state, letting him do as he pleases.

Bucky slowly brings your hand towards him, closer and closer until he’s pressing his forehead into your open palm.

The action stuns you and for a moment you don’t know what to do.

So, you go with what feels right.

Pushing your fingers back and forth timidly, you weave them between the strands of his damp hair.

The droop of Bucky’s shoulders boosts your confidence and you take a step forward, raising your right hand to join your left.

Bucky’s head remains bowed, his face hidden from you.

Taking another step forward to stand more comfortably, you release a small noise of surprise when Bucky’s hands grab at your waist, tugging you even closer until his forehead presses into your stomach instead.

Your heart stutters in your throat and your hands falter, but with a shaky breath you start stroking Bucky’s hair again, just as his strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you tight against him.

Being held in such a way makes you feel...

No, don’t dare think it.

Growing bolder, your fingertips start drawing shapes on the back of his neck while you play with the ends of his hair. The longer you do this, the more relaxed Bucky becomes.

Eventually however, the sound of dinner bubbling concerningly cuts through the peace.

You look over worriedly, not wanting the meal to ruin.

Bucky seems to realise, his arms tightening around you before dropping completely. Without looking at him, you dart over to the stove and turn it off.

Dinner is eaten in silence.

“‘M going to bed.” Bucky states once he’s finished.

His first sentence since arriving.

“Okay,” You reply softly.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷

You don’t expect to find Bucky making breakfast.

Walking into the kitchen, you had been prepared to discover that Bucky had left long before you woke. You’re glad he hasn’t.

He doesn’t appear as worn down either, and the brief upwards tug of his mouth when he turns to see you is more than enough to have you smiling back.

While Bucky’s still clearly dealing with whatever, his mood has at least improved.

Predictably, it’s quiet throughout the meal.

You wait at the bottom of the porch steps while Bucky retrieves Alpine from the barn, admiring the flat plains that appear to stretch on forever all around you.

The sound of Alpine’s hooves reaches your ears and you watch as Bucky leads the white beauty to you, stopping her by your side.

“You gonna be okay?”

You’re not sure why you ask, but you do.

Bucky looks at you over his shoulder, his hands on the saddle he was about to mount.

He studies you, his eyes dark under his hat, before doing something that muddles your brain.

In a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment, Bucky drops his hands and turns from Alpine, covering the distance between you in a short step before pressing his mouth to your forehead, his beard scratching at your skin.

“Just fine darlin’.” His deep voice rumbles as he pulls back.

Looking at you one more time, Bucky spins back to Alpine and mounts her in one fluid movement. Then they’re gone.

You can still feel the touch of his lips as you watch their figures fade.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 2 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

Town was a good hour’s ride from your home, and it was for that reason you only ever made the journey once a week, every Thursday.

Your main stop was the general store where you bought food and other necessities. The store’s owner - Billy, would talk to you from his spot behind the counter, giving you a weekly rundown of town affairs.

Most of the time it was just mundane gossip you didn’t really care for, but not today.

According to Billy, there was a new gang causing havoc around the plains, trying to make a name for themselves.

“They’ve been robbin’ properties all over, startin’ fires and roughin’ up any fella in their way, they even -”

Billy never finished that sentence, but his averted gaze told you how it ended.

“Dunno why I’m worrin’ ya with this girl, God himself couldn’t find ya all the way out there.”

The declaration wasn’t that farfetched. Unless someone knew where you lived they needed to be lost to find it.

However, if someone was intentionally on the prowl...

You check over your father’s shotgun the minute you return home.

Some days it’s hard to forget that you’re a woman living on her own, with no help nearby. Tonight that fact looms over you like a dark cloud.

In fact, it keeps you wide awake, sitting at the dining table with the shotgun in reach until the sun rises again.

You’re sluggish the whole day, tired and on edge.

When afternoon rolls around you’ve cleaned the entire house in an attempt to distract yourself and for the most part, it’s worked.

That is until you hear the unmistakable sound of horse hooves in the distance.

Fear strikes your heart in a way you’ve never experienced and you instantly wish to never experience it again.

Racing to the window above the kitchen sink with the shotgun in hand, you almost cry in relief at what you see.

A white horse and her dark rider.

Sucking in deep breaths, you close your eyes and focus on the fast thump of your heartbeat until it returns to a calmer rhythm.

You’re putting the shotgun back in its place under your bed when you hear his heavy footsteps on the porch, followed by three loud knocks.

There’s no denying the way you immediately feel... safe.

“Bucky,” You greet a little breathlessly as you open the front door.

“Hi darlin’.” He grins, eyes softening just slightly.

It’s hard to picture the sombre man you invited inside only two weeks ago.

“Back so soon?” You attempt to tease, though you feel it falls flat in your drained state.

You wonder if Bucky can tell.

Ducking his head and pinning you under his stare that’s regained its usual intensity, he responds “You don’t mind, do ya?”

No, never.

Smiling, you answer “Luckily for you, I’m in a gracious mood.”

The tease lands better this time.

Humming, Bucky agrees “Lucky me.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷

After dinner it wasn’t Bucky who retired to bed first, but you.

The moment your head hit the pillow you were out cold.

Maybe it should concern you how easily you let your guard down just because Bucky was close by, but you don’t ruminate on it long enough to let it.

It’s late morning, maybe even afternoon when you eventually wake. The heat in your room makes that much obvious.

Bucky doesn’t say a word once you walk out into the sitting room where he waits, reading one of your books again. However, the smirk he occupies as he gets up and goes into the kitchen says it all.

While you eat the breakfast - lunch, Bucky has made, you feel fear start to leach back in.

You don’t want him to leave you.

Unable to voice your plea, you take your time eating, dragging out the inevitable until you’re standing and taking your plate to the sink.

When you don’t hear the familiar sounds of Bucky collecting his things, you peek over your shoulder and see he’s still seated at the dining table.

Your gaze meets his.

Bucky answers the question in your eyes. “I’m supposed to meet my - some friends east of here in a couple of days.” You don’t miss his slip of tongue. “If I wouldn’t be overstayin’ -”

“No.” You interject much too quickly. “No, you wouldn’t be.”

He nods and stands up from the table, gesturing to the front of the house. “Your porch needs fixin’.”

While you kept the inside of the house to a spotless standard, the exterior was starting to show its age. The porch in particular, the boards old and beginning to rot.

“I know, I’ve got new wood to replace it with.”

You had it delivered out a couple of weeks ago. You just hadn’t gotten around to actually starting the task yet.

The sun beams down on you both as you walk side by side to the barn, past the horse stalls where you give Chester’s outstretched neck a fond pat, to the back where the tools and wood are stored.

Bucky hauls a bundle of wooden planks over his shoulder while you carry a crateful of tools behind him.

That’s all he lets you do, refusing your help when you go to walk back with him to collect the rest of the planks.

Standing on the bottom porch step, you watch him go back and forth from the barn until he’s brought out the last plank, creating a large pile.

“I can help.” You insist, feeling guilty about having him do all the work, even though he was the one who offered.

Bucky just shakes his head with a huff.

“Darlin’, go inside and relax.” He instructs, bending down to pick up a hammer from the crate. “Or,” He adds, straightening and strolling over to you, forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. “Sit out here and give me somethin’ pretty to look at.”

Your stomach drops as heat floods your face.

Managing a weak scoff, you avert your eyes and spin around, quickly retreating into the house.

Bucky’s hearty laugh follows you inside.

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Taking Bucky up on his first suggestion, you spend the rest of the day in the sitting room, reading.

When late afternoon creeps around and Bucky’s been outside for around three hours, you mark the page you’re on and get up to make him a snack.

Using the door at your end of the hallway that leads outside to where you do the laundry, you balance a sandwich and glass of lemonade on a tray as you walk down the side of the house.

The sight that greets you when you round the corner almost has the tray slipping out of your hands.

Bucky’s shirtless.

His tanned skin glistens with sweat, the muscles in his back and arms prominent as he saws a wooden plank in half.

The longer you stare the more scars you begin to see, most small, others not, marking his body in a pattern unique to him.

You want to ask for the story behind each and every one.

Blinking out of your stupor, you step closer to where Bucky stands in front of the porch steps, sawing through the few remaining planks.

Swallowing thickly, you call out his name.

Bucky’s head lifts, looking over his shoulder at you before the rest of his body turns.

For a second time, you fight to keep the tray steady in your hands.

You’ve only seen peeks of the hair that covers his chest, but now it’s on full display and you can’t help but sweep your gaze down, over his firm stomach, to another patch of hair that leads to -

“Made you something to eat.” You declare, lifting the tray.

It only shakes a little.

Striding over to you, Bucky grins “Thank you darlin’.”

His large, rough hands brush over yours as he takes the tray and warmth pools in your stomach.

“You’ve done a lot.” You observe, desperate to look at anything except him.

All of the old boards have been ripped up and Bucky’s already laid down new ones on the entire left side of the porch, as well as on the steps, where he now takes a seat.

“Should be done by sundown.”

It’s... nice, you realise. So utterly nice to have a man around to help you - to help look after you.

Though not just any man.

Bucky.

You’ll admit that. To yourself at least.

The sound of Bucky’s glass hitting the tray draws your attention. It shouldn’t surprise you that he’s already finished.

“You keep eating that fast and your stomach will end you before anyone else gets the chance.” You comment with a raised eyebrow as you wander over to him.

Bucky smirks as he stands, handing you the tray. “Darlin’, if your cookin’ is what takes me out, I’ll die a happy man.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

As the sun begins to dip behind the horizon, the front door opens.

You look up from where you’re curled into one of the armchairs with a book in your hands.

Bucky’s dark blue eyes roam over you for a prolonged moment before he husks out “Come take a look darlin’.”

He disappears back outside as you stand and make your way over.

Opening the front door fully, you take in the restored porch with a wide smile, stepping out onto it.

“Wow,” You gush “It looks amazing Bucky, thank you.”

You glance over to where he stands in front of the porch steps and meet his gaze briefly before he breaks it, pointing to a pile of the old wooden planks a few yards away.

“That wood’s no good for your fireplace so I’ll burn it tonight, that way it’s not takin’ up any space.” Bucky explains, moving to pick up the tools he left on the ground, dropping them into the crate.

You watch him quietly, leaning against the railing just down from where his shirt and gun belt hang.

It hadn’t escaped your notice that Bucky was wearing it when he arrived yesterday, like he had on his last visit.

You hadn’t thought much about it at the time and you don’t now, too mesmerised by him.

There’s a sense of delight in watching him while his attention is focused elsewhere.

Suddenly you think you understand why he watches you.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that darlin’.”

Bucky’s abrupt words startle you as he turns and captures your gaze.

Like what?

You can’t find the courage to ask him.

Shifting your eyes, you act as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what kind of name is Bucky?”

His chuckle makes you brave enough to look at him once more.

“It’s a nickname.” Bucky answers.

Watching him as he slowly wanders towards you, you press “What’s your real name then?”

Bucky comes to a stop in front of you and for the first time you’re the one that has to look down - if only just.

He runs a hand through his sweat dampened hair, pushing it back from his face as he studies you.

“James Buchannan Barnes.”

The confession is gentle, meaningful.

“James,” You repeat softly, giving a small smile. “Now that’s a name.”

Vivid blue eyes - dark and electric, gaze upon you with something you can’t name as you unexpectedly feel Bucky’s knuckles brushing against your cheek.

“Say it again,” He murmurs.

Your breathing grows heavier as your heart begins a wild rhythm in your chest, his touch so... addictive on your skin.

When your mouth parts to speak, his thumb catches on your bottom lip and it’s a miracle you remain upright, clutching at the porch railing.

Before you can utter his name again, you hear it.

It’s faint, but it still manages to draw your attention.

There’s horses in the distance, kicking up a large dust cloud behind them as they race towards you, the sound of their hooves echoing across the flat landscape.

You can’t tell how many there are yet.

The rough sound of your name returns your focus to Bucky, who is already marching up the porch steps. He breezes past you, reaching for his shirt and gun belt.

“Get inside and stay there.” Bucky orders sharply.

Just like that, the side of himself he’d just been presenting to you disappears, replaced by -

“Now.” He grits out, his eyes shifting to you.

That finally sends you rushing inside, leaving him as he buttons up his shirt.

Darting into the kitchen, you draw the curtain across the window that overlooks the porch.

Bending over the sink, you pinch the bottom right corner of the curtain between your thumb and forefinger, lifting it until you can just peek out.

Redressed, Bucky takes a seat on one of the two porch chairs and places his black hat on his head, tilting it down until his features are obscured and leans back.

He looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

You pick up on a faint noise and realise that Bucky’s whistling, as if truly unbothered.

A man like him would be.

Somewhere between a minute and an eternity passes before the horses - four of them, come galloping up to the house with their male riders.

Bucky keeps whistling.

The horses come to a stop beside each other in front of the porch, forming a line. The man to the far right urges his horse forward a step.

He eyes Bucky before glancing back at his comrades, pulling out a shotgun from behind him and placing it across his lap.

“Oi!”

Bucky’s whistling fades out, the sudden silence unsettling as he straightens in the chair, hat still tilted.

“Can I help you?” Bucky drawls.

His reaction has clearly thrown the men into confusion as they all look to one another before three of them focus on the man who yelled - their leader you assume.

“You’re not too bright, are ya fella?”

The insult makes you wince.

Bucky laughs.

It’s a sound you should find familiar for all the times you’ve managed to raise one out of him, but there’s nothing familiar about it - it’s dark and without humour.

Maybe it should scare you.

It doesn’t.

The men dumbly laugh with him, the one on the far left announcing “We’re here to rob you fool!”

Laughter rings out louder from them, the gang appearing to relax in this odd situation they’ve found themselves in.

“Yeah,” Another one echoes “Everythin’ ya got.”

Not to be left out, the only one yet to speak adds “That means any ladies too.”

Bucky’s laughter abruptly ceases and the leader notices immediately, unlike his three cackling morons.

“Ya gonna give us trouble fella?” He asks warily, the others falling silent at the sound of his voice.

There’s a pause before Bucky answers “Depends.”

“On what?” A moron sneers, clearly unimpressed.

“On whether or not you leave.” Bucky states, voice low and menacing. “‘Cos you make one move towards this house and the last thing any of you will see is the bullet I put between your eyes.”

He draws their attention to the guns on either side of his hips.

The leader hovers his hand above the shotgun on his lap.

Another moron lets out a guffaw, “They’re not even out!”

God they’re dumb.

“No,” Bucky agrees, his tone clearly revealing his dwindling patience. “But I’ve been told I got pretty fast hands.”

Knocking his hat back from his face, Bucky’s hands drop to rest on the handles of his guns.

“Bucky Barnes.” A moron gapes, looking like he just wet himself.

The atmosphere completely shifts amongst the gang, their leader’s eyes widening as he moves his hand away from his shotgun, raising it in the air instead.

“Mister Barnes, we ain’t mean no disrespect sir.” He quickly appeases.

Heads bounce up and down as the others hurriedly agree, watching Bucky fearfully.

You can’t stop the smile that pulls at your lips.

“Well boys, I’m not too bright,”

Oh, he’s good.

“So remind me what it was I just told y’all to do.”

Instead of actually doing it, one of the morons stutters out “Uh, well, you told us to leave sir.”

There’s a lull, Bucky’s frustration palpable, and a part of you believes he’s going to shoot them. In fact, you’re about to turn from the window to avoid the sight.

Before you can however, Bucky speaks again, his voice harsh. “So?”

Finally they gain an ounce of sense and urge their horses to move.

“Thank you sir.” The leader gasps gratefully, turning his horse around.

He’s smart enough to know he’s escaped a bullet, but not smart enough to see how his words irk Bucky further.

It doesn’t matter now. He and his morons are already racing away like the devil himself is behind them.

Maybe he is.

Bucky doesn’t move from the chair. Instead he watches as the gang disappears into the horizon.

When the sky grows dark, the sun all but gone, you pull back the curtain and move away from the window.

You’re lighting the candles and lamp on the sitting room table when the front door opens and Bucky steps inside.

Looking up at him, you straighten and say “That was...”

Trailing off, you frown as you realise you don’t really know how to describe what that was.

Watching Bucky handle the situation, making the four men appear stupid and harmless had been amazing, even though -

Even though they weren’t.

The realisation hits you then.

If you had been alone like you should’ve been, those men, those four men would have -

“Hey,” Bucky’s deep voice cuts through the terror settling in your chest - the terror he must see on your face. “You’re okay darlin’.”

But...

You’re vaguely aware of Bucky striding over to you.

“If you weren’t here -”

“I was.” Bucky cuts in, his voice leaving no room for argument. Grasping your chin, he tilts your head up until you meet his gaze. “I was here and that’s all that matters.”

The declaration is spoken gruffly, but the tender stroke of his thumb over your chin is comforting - the action belonging to your Bucky.

Your?

“Okay.” You reply quietly, after a few minutes have passed and his words have sunk in.

“You’re safe,” Bucky assures. “You’re safe with me.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It’s late at night, the moon high in the sky when you find yourself standing on the porch.

You can’t sleep, your mind refusing to be quiet.

Too much happened today. Too many emotions were brought to the surface, bringing with them revelations you’d been trying hard to ignore.

Ignoring them now seemed impossible.

You’ve never had romantic feelings for anyone. You knew long ago that your future would be a lonely one, and you had made peace with it.

Then he came along.

Instead of finding your usual place of contentment in the loneliness each time he left, you found yourself counting the days between his visits, eagerly listening for his knock on your front door.

Then came the feelings.

At what point did your heart choose to swell and thunder in your chest at the mere sight of him? At what point did you find yourself missing his watchful gaze when it wasn’t on you? At what point did you decide to trust him with your life?

In your relatively short time together, Bucky has somehow managed to carve out a space for himself within you, and you don’t know how to get him out.

You don’t know if you want to get him out.

“Everythin’ alright darlin’?”

For a second you think you’ve imagined Bucky’s voice during your ruminating, but his presence beside you is real.

“Yeah,” You answer softly. “Was just looking at the stars.”

It was one of the reasons you came out here.

Humming, Bucky leans against the railing to your right, peering up. “There’s no better sight to fall asleep to.”

You remember him once mentioning that most of his nights were spent on the ground in the great nothingness.

“I’m sure,” You reply. “But I think I’d miss my bed every once in a while.”

Bucky lets out a faint chuckle.

There’s a comfortable silence as you both admire the stars twinkling above, but soon a prickling at the back of your neck has your head turning to find Bucky openly watching you.

“You drive me crazy like this.” He murmurs, almost to himself. “You drive me crazy all the time,” He amends “But especially like this.”

Like what?

You don’t have to find the courage to ask this time.

“Standin’ in your nightgown, smellin’ like lavender,” Bucky admits freely, repeating “Drives me crazy.”

Your body comes to life at his confession.

Goosebumps erupt over your skin and your heart pounds faster as a warmth settles low in your stomach.

“James...” You respond softly, not sure what to say.

“I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since we met. Every day, you’re my first and last thought. Always wonderin’ if you’re havin’ a good day, if you’re safe, if you’re thinkin’ ‘bout me.” He shifts closer to you, ducking his head until you’re eye level. “Wonderin’ what your mouth tastes like, how your skin would feel under my hands, what kind of sounds you’d make for me.”

Your breathing grows short and heavy as he leans in so his mouth is only an inch away.

“Gonna let me find out darlin’?” Bucky whispers against your lips.

“Yes.” Breathless and desperate, you add “Please.”

Desperate to be touched - loved, by him.

A thought you’ll come back to another day.

Bucky’s mouth claims yours gently, his lips softer than you imagined as they press against yours, his beard grazing your skin.

You’re tentative in your inexperience, but soon you’re pressing back with an eagerness Bucky happily returns. His tongue glides along your bottom lip, encouraging your mouth to open and when it does he consumes you.

Your arms anchor around his neck to steady yourself as his hands run down your sides to find purchase on your hips.

When you pull back for a desperate gulp of air, Bucky’s hands slip behind your body to grasp your bottom, making you gasp as he lifts you against him.

Securing your legs around Bucky’s waist, you cling to him as he carries you back into the house.

You use the time it takes to get to your room to feel him.

His beard scratches against the palms of your hands before you slip them into his smooth hair, all while you press light, shy kisses to the bare skin of his neck. The soft sigh Bucky releases enchants you.

Then you’re feeling the floor of your bedroom under your feet as he gently sets you down.

Bucky lowers to his knees in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hands close around the hem of your white nightgown, his knuckles brushing against your calves.

The only lighting is the candle you left burning on your bedside table and the moon beaming through your thin curtains, but it’s enough to see the desire in his eyes - which is surely reflected in your own, as you nod to his unspoken question.

In one swift motion Bucky stands, slipping the nightgown up and off of you.

Your legs press together instinctively and your hands twitch with the urge to cover yourself once more as you’re hit with the vulnerability of being completely bared to Bucky.

“No darlin’,” He husks out roughly, grasping your wrists and holding your arms still as his heated gaze peruses your body. “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

The fervour Bucky speaks with has you weak.

Pulling you to him, Bucky’s clothes rub against your skin and for some reason make you burn even hotter as his mouth swallows yours in a passionate kiss.

Walking you backwards until your legs hit the bed, Bucky breaks the kiss to lay you down, crawling over you still clothed. His lips seek out your neck this time, sucking and nibbling at the skin.

The sensations of his mouth are soon drowned out by the sudden feel of his rough hands on your lower stomach and you gasp as he slides them up your body to cup your pebbled breasts.

For the first time, you moan.

Bucky’s head jerks up from your neck to look down at you, his expression ravenous as he massages your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples as you feel the wetness pooling between your legs.

He lowers to kiss your mouth, this time slow and intimate as his hands continue their sinful touch, his right hand straying away from your chest to trail down and down and...

Gasping against his lips, your body shudders as you feel Bucky’s fingers push through the curls covering your sex, just millimetres from -

You reach for his wrist.

Bucky stops instantly, his hand stilling as he pulls back from your lips to meet your gaze.

There’s no way he doesn’t already know, yet you still find yourself needing to say “I... I’ve never...”

“I know darlin’,” Bucky soothes. “I’m gonna go nice and slow. Make you feel so good, I promise.”

You release his wrist.

Bucky’s left hand cups and rubs one of your breasts while his right continues its way down to where no man has ever touched you.

The whole time, you watch one another.

You gasp sharply when his fingers graze along your folds, feeling the wetness and warmth flowing from your centre.

It pulls a deep grunt from Bucky who dips down for a hot kiss.

“Gonna treat you s’good, sweet girl.” He whispers as he breaks away, moving down your body.

He’s never called you that before.

Say it again.

You’re torn from your thoughts when his mouth wraps around your left nipple while his right hand keeps caressing your sex.

Bucky switches his attention between each breast until you’re a wriggling, panting mess. With a smirk he moves even further down, planting kisses over your stomach as he goes.

Kneeling between your spread legs, Bucky wraps his large hands around your ankles before skimming them up your legs to grasp your thighs. He rests them on his broad shoulders, his warm breath fanning over your core.

Confused, you’re frowning down at him when he does the unexpected. Staring at you, Bucky lowers his head and licks along your slit.

Your hips buck up but don’t go far in his hold, your stomach tightening at the strange sensation as you let out a strangled noise.

Bucky makes a sound of satisfaction as he glides his tongue over your sex, his hands clutching your inner thighs tightly to keep you open for him.

This...

You’ve talked about sex in hushed whispers with some women in town but they never, ever mentioned anything like this.

When Bucky closes his mouth around your sensitive bud your legs jerk while your hands seek him out, gripping his hair firmly as you moan so vulgarly you don’t recognise your own voice.

“That’s it,” Bucky praises, licking your clit. “Keep makin’ those noises for me sweet girl.”

Your brain is nothing but a puddle of mush as one of his fingers pushes into you experimentally.

How long Bucky spends working you over, you have no idea, but eventually he’s pushing three of his fingers in and out of you.

You’re loud, making noises foreign to you as he licks, pushes, and sucks. It’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s...

“I’ve got you darlin’, come on, come for me.”

With one final suck on your clit, your body tenses and then snaps.

You shout out in your pleasure, tugging on the strands of Bucky’s hair as he keeps licking, watching you explode.

It’s not until your sounds turn into something small and pitiful at the overstimulation that he stands from the bed, his beard shining with you in the moonlight as he finally undresses.

You eye him hungrily in your dazed state, watching as his shirt flutters to the floor, followed by his trousers. Your stuttered breath fills the otherwise quiet room.

He’s...

Subconsciously, you press your legs together again.

Bucky tsk’s, his hands sliding under your knees and pulling them apart. “Sweet girl, what did I tell you?”

Settling between your legs once more, he hovers above you.

You can only hold his dark gaze for a moment before your eyes drift downwards.

His cock is hard, and leaking, and big. You don’t think they’re supposed to be that big. Your hand wouldn’t even be able to fit around it, so how was it supposed to fit in you?

“Like whatcha see darlin’?” You hear the smirk in his rough tone before you look up and see it.

Flustered, you mumble out a breathless “It’s big.”

Bucky groans deeply, like he’s in pain, and swoops down to kiss you, dominating your mouth.

“Don’t worry sweet girl,” He whispers against your lips. “It’ll fit in your little pussy.”

Shivering at his wicked tongue, your eyes dart down to look at it again.

“Can I touch it?”

Bucky grunts, watching you from underneath his lashes. “S’all yours darlin’.”

Timidly, you reach down between your bodies until you can wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

You were right, your hand doesn’t fit around it.

It’s hot and heavy in your palm as you give it a soft stroke before returning to the base. You repeat the action but this time you trail your thumb along the vein you had felt on the underside of his cock.

Bucky’s forehead drops onto yours, his breathing heavy.

A flick of your eyes upwards shows you that Bucky’s are closed, his jaw clenched tight.

The sight sends tingles through you and with a burst of confidence you tighten your grip around his cock and stroke him again, thumbing at his leaking head when you reach the top.

Hissing, one of Bucky’s hands shoots down to grab your wrist.

You look up and meet his open eyes.

Pulling your hand off his cock, Bucky husks “Won’t last if you keep doin’ that sweet girl.”

The statement thrills you.

Bucky’s hands wrap around your thighs, placing them over the top of his and spreading you beneath him.

Grasping himself in one hand, Bucky keeps his eyes on you as he slowly pushes into you. The stretch burns, making you bite down on your lip as you try to take all of him.

Stopping, Bucky lowers to capture your mouth while his other hand sneaks down to gently circle your bud, relaxing and distracting you as he continues to push in bit by bit until he finally bottoms out.

“You tell me when darlin’.” Bucky pants above you, unmoving.

A few minutes pass and when you feel like you’ve adjusted as much as you can, you say “Okay, just...”

“I’ll go slow sweet girl.” Bucky promises again, reading your mind.

True to his word, Bucky gradually pulls his length out of you before pushing it back in at the same pace. Your teeth snag your bottom lip again as he moves in and out of you, the feeling just shy of painful.

Bucky never looks away from your face, catching every emotion that flashes across it. You’re warm and tight - so tight, around his cock and it has him on the brink of madness. However, your pleasure is what he cares about most and when your face remains pinched on his fourth push into you, his eyebrows draw in concern.

As he pushes himself in on his fifth stroke, Bucky says “Darlin’, do you -”

You moan loud and short, the sound a mixture of bliss and surprise as the pain suddenly gives way to pleasure.

Bucky grunts above you, the look on your face seeming to make him even harder as he puts a little more power behind his next thrust, watching as it makes you moan again.

“There you go sweet girl,” He husks. “That feel good darlin’?”

“Yes.” Your hands wind in his hair, bringing his face down to yours for a desperate kiss as Bucky continues his slow thrusts.

Something’s clawing at your stomach, wanton. You need more.

Your right hand untangles from Bucky’s hair to slide down his muscled back, brushing over the bumps of scars as you hold onto him.

Breaking apart, you pant against his lips “Faster.” You don’t know how you know that’s what you need, but you do. “Harder, please.” You plead in a lustful tone.

You haven’t been oblivious to the wild look in his dark blue eyes, to the barely restrained control he exhibits.

However, your words, your tone, they undo Bucky’s control for a moment and in an almost uncontrollable action his hips slam up into yours as he grunts “Fuck darlin’.”

The powerful thrust claws a breathy whine of shock out of you.

“Gonna kill me, aren’t ya sweet girl?” Bucky murmurs thickly, reining his control back slightly as he does what you asked and pushes into you at a faster pace, his thrusts harder.

Your head pushes back into the bed beneath you as you moan out, the nails of your right hand digging into their hold on Bucky’s back while your left grips his hair tighter.

“Look at me.” Bucky commands in a tone so low you feel the rumble of it against you.

You tilt your head down to meet his heady gaze.

“James,” You whimper, the sensations building within you.

“Fuck.” He thrusts a bit deeper, pushes a bit harder, making you mewl. “I know, I know darlin’, gonna come for me again, aren’t ya?”

He gives another deep thrust, the force pushing you slightly up the bed.

It feels so good. You’re so close, you’re right there...

“Say my name sweet girl,” Bucky groans, rubbing at your clit. “Say my name when I make you come.”

A pleasure so intense it has your eyes rolling back erupts in you, making your whole body tighten and relax repeatedly as you moan, whine, and pant for James as you swim in ecstasy.

The sight of you coming so undone for him - because of him, sends Bucky hurtling.

Pulling out of your pulsing heat, his right hand wraps around his painfully hard cock and squeezes as he tugs it roughly, consumed by lust. On the third harsh stroke he spills over your stomach with a wrecked moan of your name.

Bucky’s forehead drops to yours, your heaving breaths mingling together as you both come back to yourselves.

Pressing forward, Bucky claims your mouth in a brief, sweet kiss.

“You okay darlin’?” He whispers.

A drowsy, satisfied nod is all you can manage.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷

You’re surrounded by warmth when you blink awake and it takes you a moment to realise the source isn’t the sunlight streaming into your room, but Bucky’s body underneath yours.

If heaven was a feeling this had to be close.

“Mornin’ darlin’.” Bucky’s voice is raspier, a clear sign he’s not long woken.

Tilting your head up from where it rests on his bare chest, you meet Bucky’s gentle gaze and give a small smile, quietly returning “Morning.”

In a movement too fast for your sleepy mind to comprehend, Bucky grabs your hips and effortlessly rolls you onto your back so he can hover above you.

Nudging your nose with his own, he captures your mouth in a tender kiss.

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling back.

Images of last night rush back to you, flooding your body with heat as you answer honestly. “A little sore, but good.”

Humming, Bucky runs his left hand up and down your side. “Just good?”

You duck away from his burning gaze, making him laugh.

“Still shy after last night darlin’?” He questions, though it comes across more like a statement.

Regardless, Bucky doesn’t wait for a response, instead he leans down and kisses you again.

This one is deeper, his lips pressing against yours harder as you willingly open your mouth to him.

You feel the air in the room thicken as Bucky’s left hand continues to roam and grasp while both of yours stroke through his hair.

Despite the soreness between your legs, that desire from last night begins pooling in your stomach.

Breaking apart, you both breathe heavily as Bucky utters “Already need you again sweet girl.”

Pressing soft kisses all over your face before moving down to your neck where he scratches his beard against you, Bucky speaks against your ear. “But I gotta let you recover first before I ruin you all over again, don’t I darlin’?”

You shudder at his words as he places a final kiss below your ear before moving away and getting up.

He pulls on his trousers, his blue eyes swimming with desire as he peruses your naked body while doing them up.

Licking his lips, Bucky husks “I’ll get breakfast started.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

“When do you have to meet your friends?” You ask Bucky as he takes your plate and sets it with his own in the sink.

“Whatcha mean darlin’?”

“You said you were waiting to meet them.” You remind him, recalling the conversation you had yesterday.

Yesterday?

It felt like a lifetime ago now.

Bucky’s back is still to you and his silence makes you frown. “You’re... not meeting them?” You guess hesitantly.

Why would he lie?

If he wanted to stay longer, he just had to ask.

Turning around to lean against the kitchen counter, Bucky’s arms bulge as they cross over his still bare chest.

Despite the current circumstance, the sight makes your stomach flip.

Bucky observes you for a moment before admitting “I heard there was a new gang causin’ problems ‘round these parts.”

That’s all he says, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

Your heartbeat quickens at the possible implication of his words.

“So...” You prompt softly, daring to hope.

Pushing from the counter, Bucky steps over to you, his gaze holding yours as he rests a hand on the table beside you before ducking until your eyes are level.

“So I needed to make sure my sweet girl was safe,” He whispers, raising his other hand “And that she stayed that way.” Brushing a gentle finger over your cheek, Bucky finishes “I’ve got nowhere else to be darlin’.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 6 DAYS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

For six days you’re in a world of your own, where only you and Bucky exist.

You knew it was only a matter of time, but that doesn’t stop the disappointment you feel when life finally crashes in.

Waking up to an empty bed for the first time since you surrendered yourself to Bucky, you don’t think too much about it as you slip on your nightgown.

Venturing out into the hallway, you freeze when you hear voices.

Fear begins to take hold until you push it back.

Bucky would never put you in danger. Of that, you’re certain.

“You sure? The law’s been gettin’ closer than I like.” An unfamiliar male voice states.

“We’ve been plannin’ this for too damn long to back out now.” Is Bucky’s reply.

Sucking in a breath, you know you really shouldn’t be listening to this.

Continuing towards the sitting room, you step louder than you normally would, alerting them of your presence.

Two men sit in your kitchen, their hulking figures making the small table between them appear child-sized. Their heads turn and two sets of blue eyes - one light, the other dark - land on you as you loiter awkwardly in the sitting room.

Glancing as long as you dare at the stranger, you note his dark blond hair which brushes against his dirty collar and wild beard that reminds you of Bucky’s the first time he knocked on your door.

You know you’ve seen his wanted posters, but his name eludes you.

“Darlin’,” Bucky crooks a finger at you, urging you over to him. “This is Steve, we’ve been friends since we were kids.”

Steve.

You could recall the name at the bottom of the posters now - Steve Rogers.

“Hello,” You greet shyly, offering your name as Bucky’s hands settle on your hips and pull you onto his lap.

Not meaning to interrupt them, you look up at Bucky in question. He squeezes your hips, telling you it’s okay.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Steve declares with a secretive smile. “I’m sorry for barging in.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you?” Bucky grumbles at the same time, making Steve chuckle.

This one laughs too.

“I’ll give you two a moment.” Steve appeases, standing up and settling a worn brown hat on his head.

You realise he’s only wearing socks and find it oddly thoughtful that he took his boots off before coming in.

“We’ll have to get acquainted some other time.” Steve remarks, and by the way Bucky’s grip tightens you gather he’s only saying it to be a menace, especially when he adds “Maybe you can cook me somethin’ too.”

“Fuck off.” Bucky growls, but Steve’s already slipping out the front door with a grin.

Grumbling, Bucky lifts you off his lap and onto the table, fusing his mouth to yours.

Once he’s thoroughly reduced your mind to empty space, Bucky pulls back and orders “Don’t you dare cook him or any other man anything, ever.”

“James.” You sigh, smiling.

“You won’t like what happens if you do darlin’.” He promises in a darker tone.

The thrill that shoots up your spine suggests that maybe you would.

Regardless, you playfully huff “If you insist.”

“I do.” Bucky grunts before kissing you again.

When you break apart, the mood turns solemn.

“You have to go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah darlin’, I gotta go.”

Forcing a smile, you whisper “Okay,” as if you have any say in the matter.

Rubbing his nose against yours, Bucky soothes “I’ll be back darlin’, like always.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 3 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

Sighing, you dry the plate in your hands and eye the dishes you still have left. You probably would’ve finished the mundane task by now if you didn’t move so slow while daydreaming.

You spent most of today in the barn, completing chores. It wasn’t until the sun had almost set that you wandered back into the house and began making dinner.

Once these dishes were away you planned on taking a long bath.

Stacking the last plate, you pick up one of the candles on the dining table and blow out the rest, blanketing the house in darkness.

Using the light source in your hand, you check over the windows and lock the front door before trudging down to your bedroom.

Stepping into the dark room you can’t help but miss the moon and the light it provides as you place the candle on your bedside table.

Clutching the bottom of your pale yellow dress you lift it up and off, leaving you in nothing but a thin slip when you hear the unmistakable sound of a match striking.

Gasping, you whirl around as your heart hammers in your chest.

“Don’t stop on my account darlin’.” Bucky drawls, seated in the chair at the opposite corner of your room.

Waving out the match he just used to light the candle on the dressing table beside him, his dark eyes watch you like a hawk. “Go on.”

A shiver races down your spine.

This isn’t your sweet Bucky.

In an almost nervous manner you reach for the straps of your slip, hesitating for just a second before pushing them off your shoulders.

You hear Bucky’s deep inhale as the fabric pools at your feet.

“Come here.”

Your feet are quick to obey the order.

The candlelight flickers over his face, allowing you to take in his appearance.

He looks much the same as he left, beard full but tamed and brown hair reaching his shoulders. He’s a little dirty, but you can’t complain since you are too.

Bucky grabs your waist as soon as you’re within reach and pulls you down onto his lap, your legs either side of his as your naked breasts press into his shirt.

His hands move to grip your bottom roughly, drawing another gasp from you.

Grazing your lips with his own, Bucky whispers “I’ve missed you.”

You’re not given a chance to return the sentiment as his mouth captures yours.

The kiss is ravenous as Bucky takes everything he wants - everything he needs, from you. All you can do is hold onto him, your hands wrapped around his thick biceps as you let him take.

Both of you are panting for air when he eventually pulls away, his right hand gliding up your back to cradle the base of your neck and urge your head backwards, exposing your throat to him.

Running his nose under your jaw, all the way down to your collarbone, Bucky groans in satisfaction against your skin. “Smell s’good.”

It was merely coincidence that you had been using your lavender oil more often since his comment on the porch.

You feel him bite the place where your neck and shoulder meet - as if in claim, before licking over the spot, making you moan.

Bucky nips and sucks along your collarbone, dipping lower until he tugs one of your nipples between his teeth.

You don’t even realise you’ve started rocking against his hard length under you until both his hands seize your hips, halting your movements.

Raising his head, Bucky taunts “Desperate for me darlin’? Where’d my sweet, shy girl go?”

Why those words make you whine at him you have no idea, but Bucky loves it.

Smirking, he slowly rocks you up and down on his length and hums “Maybe my girl’s not so good, huh?”

You moan as he moves you faster, pressing you down to rub harder against his erect cock straining beneath his trousers. Your hands tighten around his biceps as your head drops to his shoulder.

“That’s alright darlin’, ‘cos I plan on doin’ bad, bad things to you.” Bucky murmurs in your ear, beard scratching as your sensitive skin.

His words added with the light press of his thumb on your clit undoes you, making you cry out his name.

If it didn’t feel so good, you’d be embarrassed at your quick climax.

Growling, Bucky stands while you’re still reeling in pleasure and carries you to the bed, manoeuvring your compliant body until you’re on your knees, face down.

He’s never had you like this before.

The sound of Bucky removing his belt has your hands gripping the sheets.

“Can’t wait any longer darlin’.” He grunts, shoving his trousers to the floor before grabbing your hips. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this little pussy every day, dyin’ to feel it wrapped ‘round me again.”

That’s all the warning you get before Bucky pushes in, the intrusion tearing a shout from you, followed by a drawn out moan.

You feel so full. You didn’t realise how much you missed this.

How badly you’ve been craving it.

“That’s it.” He purrs, your walls clenching around him. “Fuck.”

Pulling out until just the tip remains, Bucky surges back in.

You whine again, clawing at the sheets beneath you.

“Oh, you are a good girl, aren’t ya darlin’?” Bucky thrusts into you, pitching your whole body forward as he bends down and husks in your ear, “‘Cos you’re gonna take everythin’ I give ya.”

The way he’s talking is hurtling you towards the edge again.

You don’t respond - you can’t, but Bucky’s not looking for a response.

Straightening, he begins pounding into you relentlessly. You swear the bed is going to give out with how it creaks as the frame bangs into the wall, competing with the sounds coming from you.

When Bucky’s large, rough hand trails under your body to cup your sex, his fingers sliding up until they reach your bud, you almost scream.

Chuckling out a groan, he states “You’re squeezin’ the life outta me sweet girl.”

Bucky’s fingers are as unforgiving as his cock as they rub tight circles on your clit, bringing you to that point.

“Come.” He growls, leaning over you to wrap his large body around yours as his fingers bully your bud. “Now.”

You’re helpless to his demand.

“James!” You squeal, falling limp as your release slams into you.

Moaning deeply, Bucky pulls out of your spasming centre and flips you onto your back. Tugging his cock, he spills onto your stomach, cursing your name.

Collapsing forward, Bucky catches himself on his left elbow, hovering above you.

You’re breathless, eyes fluttering as he lowers to kiss your lips.

It starts out tender but soon turns into something lustful as you feel Bucky growing hard against your stomach. Your resulting whimper breaks the kiss.

“Keep those eyes open sweet girl,” He whispers. “I’m not done with you yet.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷

You wake wrapped in Bucky’s arms and a smile instantly spreads across your face. Lifting your head from where it rests on his shoulder, your smile widens when you realise his eyes are still closed.

Bucky always woke before you, yet here he is, fast asleep.

He looks different. Peaceful.

For a while you just watch him, listening to his steady breathing as you feel his chest rise and fall under your right palm.

Eventually you can’t resist the urge to brush his hair back from his face, which leads your fingertips to dance over his beard, down his nose, and over his mouth.

Your forefinger traces across his bottom lip before it’s suddenly snagged between his teeth, making you gasp then laugh.

Bucky’s eyes blink open and lock onto yours as he releases your finger.

“Morning,” You smile softly.

“Mornin’ darlin’.” His raspy voice after waking up is a sound you’ll never tire of. “What you doin’ up so early?”

Huffing at his teasing words, you sit up and move until you’re straddling his firm stomach, both your hands pressed against his chest.

“It’s not that early,” You glare playfully.

Cupping your hips, Bucky smirks “I just know how much my girl likes her sleep.”

My girl.

Lowering until your nose bumps his, you respond “I like spending time with you more.”

Bucky gives a quiet groan, his hands gliding up to cup your face and pull you down further until your mouths connect. It’s a slow kiss, every stroke of his tongue deliberate as he savours the taste of you.

He doesn’t let you go far when you break away for air, his nose prodding yours as he whispers “I have to go.”

“You just got back.” You can’t help but protest, eyebrows furrowing.

Bucky sighs, “I know darlin’.”

Rolling the two of you over so he can hover above you instead, Bucky’s forearms settle on either side of your head as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I got a... job to do,” Bucky explains vaguely. “But, when I come back it’ll be for a good while.”

You mull his words over for a moment before whispering “Promise?”

“Promise.”

He angles his face lower to place light kisses over your cheeks and down your neck where he then rubs his beard, well aware of how much it tickles your sensitive skin.

Once you have tears in your eyes and are stuttering for him to stop between giggles he finally relents, raising his head to meet your gaze.

The grin on his lips is much too boyish to belong to the man who spoke such sordid things to you last night.

“How ‘bout I get breakfast started?” Bucky suggests.

It’s at that moment, in the warmth and safety of your bed - of Bucky, in the little world you’ve started to create together that you realise you love him.

That you have for quite some time.

It’s in that moment, with his dark blue eyes shining down at you, his rough hands tenderly caressing your skin, and the lingering ache in your body from last night that you almost tell him.

Fortunately, common sense rears its head, snatching the words from you before they can tumble out and ruin everything.

You know he cares for you - maybe even adores you, but you don’t think men like Bucky Barnes can do love.

So instead you say “That sounds great.”

You’ll take everything you can from him before he leaves, knowing his absence will be even more palpable this time around with your realisation, and you’ll wait patiently until he comes back and gives you more.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 2 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

Securing Chester’s reins around a post outside the general store, you give his chest a loving rub as he drinks from the water trough.

Moving around him to retrieve some money from the satchel on your saddle, the sound of running feet grabs your attention.

You turn in time to see a group of young boys race past, rushing towards the town centre.

“Hurry up or we’ll miss it!” One of the boys shouts back to his slower friends.

Frowning, you look around and notice that quite a few people are heading in the same direction.

Closing your satchel with the money still inside, you walk up the two steps leading to the general store’s small porch, intent on asking Billy what all the fuss is about.

A piece of paper stuck to the front door informs you he’s not inside. The messily written ‘be back soon’ only fuels your curiosity.

Striding back down the steps, you join the people making their way to the town centre.

It’s an underwhelming reveal.

Your eyes roll when you round the final corner and see that the gallows have been erected.

A hanging, of course.

What else drew such a crowd?

Certainly not one to enjoy such a gruesome sight, you turn around and head back the way you came. You’ll simply wait with Chester until Billy gets back.

You take four steps before stopping.

The whole town seems to be gathering - if not more. Only someone with a name important enough to know would be worth so much attention.

Don’t be stupid.

Fear turns your blood cold.

It can’t be him.

You’re thinking foolishly, you know that.

In what world did law enforcement ever actually catch a man like Bucky Barnes?

The notion was comical.

However, your need for reassurance has you spinning back around and trekking closer. You weave your way through the growing crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the criminal yet to be led up to the high platform of the gallows.

After a few minutes you’ve only managed to make it halfway through the throng of spectators, the rough shoves of uncaring men hindering your progress.

Standing on the tips of your toes, you peer around the figures in front of you, looking to the left corner of the gallows where you know the stairs that lead up to the platform start.

You’re not sure if it’s just a trick of your overactive imagination, but for a split second you swear you catch sight of familiar brown hair and your breath lodges in your throat.

No. It can’t be. It can’t.

The next few moments seem to occur in slow motion.

A brief gap in the crowd gives you a perfect, straight line of vision to the brown haired man. The reveal of his face almost brings you to your knees.

No. No, no, no -

You’re frozen in denial at who you see.

James.

His hands are tied behind his back and two deputies flank him, ready to escort him up the stairs.

Your direct line of sight is broken by the crowd, causing everything to speed up as you finally kick into motion.

Like a desperate woman - because you are, you push through the crowd, ignoring the protests and elbows you receive. You don’t stop until you’ve reached the front.

Ducking around the unsuspecting deputy stationed to keep the mob at bay, you bolt to Bucky, sliding to a standstill in front of him, your shoes touching his boots.

“Darlin’,” Bucky speaks like the wind’s just been knocked out of him, his blue eyes wide.

“James what are you - they’re -”

You can’t speak. You can’t breathe.

This was Bucky Barnes, the famous outlaw. He didn’t get caught and he certainly didn’t die.

“You promised.” You gasp out, eyes itching with tears “You -”

“I’m so sorry baby.” Bucky’s voice strains in his effort to speak softly and you hate it.

As much as you hate that you can’t give a second thought to his sweetest term of endearment for you yet.

“Don’t -”

Regaining their wits, the deputies around you spring into action, one of them grabbing your arms from behind and pulling you backwards.

“Hey!”

“Don’t touch her!” Bucky spits vehemently, rearing forward only to be tugged back by the deputies either side of him.

Throwing your right heel back, you catch the deputy in his shin, forcing him to let go. You lunge at Bucky, clinging to the front of his shirt like it’s your only lifeline.

“Please James,” You plead, as if he has any say in this. “I love you, please.”

You should’ve told him. You should’ve told him that morning.

“Listen to me baby,” Bucky implores, his deep voice gentle like you know it can be with you - not soft. “I want you to know how much I love you, that you’ve given a meanin’ to my life that I had no right to expect, that no one can ever take from me.”

“James.” You choke out, throat tight with the tears that stream down your face.

He loves me. He loves me.

The beautiful declaration should fill you with happiness, not anguish.

“You’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me.” Bucky declares, lips curling as his blue eyes admire you.

When the deputy grabs hold of you this time there’s no chance of you breaking out of his tight hold even if you had the strength to try - which you don’t.

Your body is limp, weak, and shattered as you’re dragged away from the only man you’ve ever loved. The only man you’ll ever love.

“It’s alright darlin’,” Bucky insists over his shoulder as he’s pushed up the stairs, his gaze unwavering. “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

You’re shoved into the crowd - which parts from you in disgust, while you watch Bucky ascend to the top of the platform, feeling anything but okay.

They stand him beside the noose and your legs tremble as you subconsciously start walking backwards through the horde of onlookers - as if you can escape what’s about to happen next.

“Bucky Barnes...” A big, well dressed man addresses him before reading out his sentence.

They’re going to kill him.

Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth as the reality sinks in.

He’s going to die.

Only watching you - always watching you, Bucky’s mouth opens.

You can’t hear what he says, but you make out the words.

“Don’t watch.”

“Please.”

The pain suddenly burns you and your shoulders shake from the force of your tears.

Gasping in a deep, shuddering breath, you look at him one last time before closing your eyes, forcing yourself to honour his final request.

Why? Why does death have to take him from me too?

You’re barely aware of anything other than the affliction raging inside you, so you don’t know how you even hear it over the jeering crowd, but you do - a low whistle.

It shouldn’t mean anything to you, but something urges you to open your eyes.

Blinking through your tears, you turn your head to the right - where the sound had been loudest, and zero in on a man who towers over most of the spectators.

A black bandana covers the lower half of his face, but he’s looking at you, his bright blue eyes visible as he winks.

Steve.

Shifting his gaze from you to Bucky, he whistles again, this time a two tone note that’s loud and piercing.

All around you, people scattered within the crowd fling back ponchos to reveal guns that they fire up at the sky or towards the gallows, sending the crowd screaming and running as all hell breaks loose.

me fr

me and the besties in july

kicking screaming and sobbing rn I LOVED THIS

First Love/ Late Spring

A/N: I had no right to listen to Mitski and write for Neteyam but here I am. I’ve been working on this on and off since December but finally decided to get serious and post it. Hope you guys like it!

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Masturbation(F receiving). Breeding Kink if ya really dig. Angst. Talks of self doubt and insecurity. All Characters are aged up 18+.

You are responsible for cultivating your own online experience, please do not interact if any of these tags are triggering to you. Minors DNI.

Summary: Neteyam has passed his Metkayinan Iknimaya, and is now free to choose a woman. Why did you ever think he would choose you? Neteyam X Na'vi Reader.

One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I’m on, baby.

Tell me don’t so I can crawl back in- Mitski, First Love/Late Spring

As the beloved niece of the reigning Olo’eyktan, in your life you had wanted for nothing.

Had spent the last nineteen years in isolated bliss. The island of Awa’atlu and your tribes familiar inhabitants were all you knew. Your life moved to a steady beat, as sure as the morning eclipse. As rhythmic as the tides.

And you had been content, really you had. Too busy to be bored. Too beloved to truly dwell on the gap. On the absence of a mate no matter how much your Uncle; Tonowari urged you to accept one of the many offerings of courtship. Lonely maybe, but happy.

Useful. Focused.

Ever since the Sully’s arrival, you have felt anything but.

Descending from the skies on ikran back, they left plumes of sand in their wake. Shook up everything you had ever known as they stood there on the beach, adrift. Out of place, different then anything you had ever seen with their dark skin and thin tales. That morning had been a whirlwind of harsh words and brief but tense negotiations.

So much change had happened in such a small amount of time that it was hard to wrap your head around-

The leader of the Sully Tribe, Jake, had begged Uturu for his family. And ever benevolent, your Uncle Tonowari had granted it to them.

Overwhelmed by crowds, you don't recall much more of that day except for the desire to run away. To escape the strained aura’s of the hesitant clans people and the exhausted newcomers. You’d gone to away, eager to get back to your herbs and tinctures. To the safety of familiarity to digest the entire situation.

You’d been stopped in your tracks, rooted in place, by a pair of striking golden orbs.

A stare like none you’d ever known. His eyes resonated with you. Plucking a cord n your chest that echoed throughout the rest of your body. You’d never felt anything like it. Never been so affected by a stranger.

Never been so affected by anyone.

Even now, months later, thinking of Neteyam that look he’d given you on his first day here makes you hot. You dream about it, about him often. He plagues you, has taken up permanent space in your subconscious.

You wake most mornings to phantom touches. To his voice ringing in your ears and an empty bed mat that feels too cold.

This morning is no different. Your eyes flutter open with a gasp and your heart is beating madly in your chest.

It's early. You have only moments before you will be expected to wake and start your daily routine. Really, you should’ve been up by now-

Instead you lie in your corner of the family mauri, the privacy curtains pulled around your bed as you shoulder into the woven blankets. Your hands slip down- lower on your belly and into the dip of your tweng.

Between your legs you’re hot, soaked and pulsing as you always seem to be these days. Your clit swollen almost painfully as you press your fingers to it, rubbing firm little circles as you search for some kind of relief. Humping harshly into your small hand, cupping your sex desperately as you recall Dream Neteyam.

He’d pinned you to a tall palm, your belly pressing against the rough bark as buried his nose in your hair. All panting breaths and wandering hands.

“You’re so beautiful”

“I’m right here”

“Let me have you, I have to have you”

Dream Neteyam says all the things you want to hear as he ravages you. He’s sure footed, cocky in that way that you knew he could be. He’s pushy and needy and you’d give him anything if he asked for it, Eywa all he had to do is hint that he wanted it-

“Spread your legs for me, sevin ”

You bite your lips bloody, your fangs digging into them as your thick thighs clamp shut around your hands and your pussy spasms. You want to cry out as you come. Fight the urge to whine because it’s not enough, you’re still so empty.

Neteyam’s name is always on your tongue as you come down from your self induced high.

“Y/N? My Child, are you awake?”

There’s no time to bask in the afterglow, you wrench your hands away. Wiping the mess on your blankets as you shoot up straight-

“Yes? Yes. I’m coming, i’ll be out a minute” You try to keep your voice from breaking and just barley succeed.

Ronal who had peeked a head into the empty mauri isn't convinced, but accepts it anyway “Hurry now, we have to get going. The tide pools will be filling and we need to restock the sea-tsam(kelp like herbs), you haven't even eaten breakfast yet. Up!”

You only release the breath stuck in your chest when she’s scurrying back out of the home- one of these days you’re going to get caught.

Your people are free with their sexuality, there’s no shame in pleasure whether it be self inflicted or given by another. But it would make those pesky questions arise- if you’re so needy, Y/N- why do you refuse every eligible bachelor that comes your way?

You huff, thinking about that very thing as you get ready for the day. Bruising through your long hair almost violently as you chew it over.

If you need to be fucked so badly, why are you three years into adulthood without a mate? You don’t even have a possible suitor- your friends are having babies, building lives, and you’re still living with your family.

It used to be that you we’re hyper focused on your role in the clan. On your training as part of the Tsakarem. On preparing Tsireya for the day she reaches adulthood and takes over her mother’s title.

You had always been family oriented, and the clan had accepted it-

But now there were whispers. Inquiries, never spoken to you but always about you. It’s an oddity that such a pretty young woman with such high standing is choosing to be alone.

Is there something wrong with you?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The only thing that’s wrong with you is your inability to focus on the most mundane of tasks as of late.

After a quick breakfast, you’d taken off. Determined to knock the long list of chores down.

You’d collected herbs until your fingers hurt and the satchel slung across your chest was full to the brim. You’d tended to the Elders, and checked in on the mother with newborns, still so fresh to the world that they’re connected to their Sa’nok kuru, constant Tsaheylu necessary at such a young age.

Healing isn't always glamorous, and while you’d much rather be mixing potions and sketching in your journals- you check fevers. Change chamber pots. Kiss the scraped knee’s of young ones.

You’re supposed to be heading back to the Healer’s Mauri, the large hut where Ronal waits for you-

But instead you get sidetracked.

It’s all you seem to do these days.

Lounging in the soft warm sand is so much easier then running around the village.

You’d come across your cousins who were circled by Roxto and the elder Sully’s, and it hadn't taken much convincing for you to tag along on whatever little adventure they had planned for the afternoon. It had led you to one of the smaller isles, a tiny thing that was mostly white sand beaches and deep rocky cove tunnels.

Lo’ak and Ao’nung practicing their breath holds, taking turns weaving through the underwater caves. The two had went from going for each others throat’s to thick as thieves, and your glad. Lo’ak’s troubled, but he’s not trouble. Not the way that your cousin's other asshole friends are.

Roxto and Neteyam wade through the crystal clear shallows, hunting for clams that are abundant at this time of year.

You’re sat with Kiri and Tsireya, the three of you staying in the beach and giggling about current clan gossip. Chattering endlessly.

Neteyam’s shoulders are broad and glisten in the bright afternoon sun. You can barely tear your gaze away from him. Hungrily, needing to glance back every few seconds-

“The celebration is in less then a month's time” Tsireya states, a small grin playing on her lips as she takes in the scene.

She knows about your feelings for the eldest Sully son, you’d confessed them to her in a fit one night. Unable to keep them caged in your chest anymore. She can understand the appeal- her own eyes had been glued to the family since the arrival.

What she can't understand is why you wont tell him- or at the very least why you’re being so damn shy about it. You had never been this demure before.

“I know, the preparations have been a real pain in my ass” You reply, turning on your side to face her. Arm bent at the elbow, chin propped in your hand. “Tonowari has me assisting with getting the ceremonial mats woven. It’s not fair”

“I think he just wants you to be…a more active participant this year” Tsireya chooses her words wisely, ignoring your side eye “It’s sweet”

“It’s annoying” you hiss, eyes rolling harshly. Your tail swishes behind you, a firm pat on the sand.

“This is the celebration that’s held for the hunters. The ones that pass their Iknimaya’s?” Kiri asks, intrigued. She’s inquisitive and you’d assured her early on that she could ask you anything, that you’d help her understand the customs of your people.

“Yes and it’s so much fun. You’ll see, the Hunters come back from Motnaui(ritualistic hunt) and we spend the day roasting their catch, thanking Eywa for her abundance. There’s dancing and singing- “ Tsireya’s eyes sparkle as she talks about it, glazed with nostalgia.

You let her rant a bit more before cutting her off, “And mating. Most of the hunters will stake their claim on any courtships that have been started”

Because yes, it is a celebration for the newly joined adults of the clan, but goes hand in hand with the fact that it is their first chance to choose a mate.

“We have something like this back in the forest, it's the start of Fertility Season right?” Kiri verifies and you nod. “Does it coincide with the rains here, too?”

“Mhmm, most newly mated pairs will spend the week or so tucked away…-” Tsireya’s cheeks get red and you roll your eyes.

“Coupling” You interject and she shoots you a look that has you tittering. Awe, your sweet young cousin, still a year away from her own Iknimaya. Innocent and shy when it comes to such topics.

Kiri doesn't look scandalized- she’d come to adulthood back in the forest. Though she hasn't chosen a mate she had partaken in many of the festivities.

“Yes, coupling” Tsireya continues. “Its all beautiful really, its my favorite time of year. Right after the return of the Tulkun of course”

Its nice listening to your cousin's version of the celebration. You think that yeah, your own view of it all used to be mostly the same. That was until you’d reached adulthood, and had spent the last cycles without a mate of your own. This week that Tsireya found so beautiful had just been wet for you. Yourself and other unmated , able bodied Na’vi took on the duties of the disposed clan members.

It was an honor to take care of your people while they were vulnerable.

It was embarrassing to have not found a mate of your own yet.

You wonder if this year you’d spend the week in the rain again.

“You don't seem excited” Kiri whispers and you force a smile onto your face almost instantly, not wanting to come off so extremely transparent.

“It’s not that I’m not-”

“Y/N hasn't mated yet”

“Obviously Tsireya, thank you for pointing that out” you deadpan at the girl but she continues on, not phased in the least by your attitude-

“But I do think that will change this year”

Kiri perks up, big eyes interested, a brow arched “Really? Has someone caught your eye? Every time any one even tries to start courting you, you give them the cold shoulder”

“That’s not true, I’m nice about it” you defend your actions “I just haven't been interested in any of their offers”

“‘Their’ being half of the unmated men in this clan” Kiri’s sarcasm rivals your own, you flick a small shell at her forehead.

“It hasn't felt right and Eywa wouldn't want me to settle. '' The words taste condescending as they roll off your tongue, you don't blame them for scoffing at you but it's true.

If you had accepted an offer in the past, you wouldn't be free to follow your hearts desire now…your eyes flick back to the shore. Back to the broad shoulders.

“I’m sure whoever you choose will be honored,” Kiri chuckles. “Surprised though, probably. I overheard a couple of Elder’s making bets that you’d make another suitor cry this year”

The peel of laughter that Tsireya lets out is shrill and loud,

Roxto and Neteyam’s heads turn, far out enough now that the surely cant hear the conversation but can hear the shrieks of joy. Roxto grins and signs something that you can't quite make out and Neteyam gives a small wave.

You can feel the big stupid smile on your face, it’s no surprise that Kiri acknowledges it.

“You didn't answer my question. Is there anyone in particular that you have your eye on?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. You’d been wanting to run it past her for weeks. Desperate for her insight but too embarrassed to muster up the courage and ask for it.

“Tell her, tsmuk’tu” Tsireya urges gently.

“I have been hoping that…Neteyam might choose to court me. After his Iknimaya” You admit it, carefully watching her for her reaction. Your own ears are pressed to your head, your fingers winding around each other nervously.

“I was wondering why that idiot was going through his rites again” Kiri nods, like she’d found the missing piece of a puzzle.

One that she wasn't willing to share with the group.

“What’do you mean? If he wants to be a hunter, he has to” You point out the facts, the law of the village.

“Well yeah, but I mean look at how our dad did it. He didn't jump through all of the hoops, he just tamed his Skimwing on his own time. My brother has been adamant about wanting to be apart of ceremony”

You ingest Kiri’s words greedily, letting them expand in your chest. It’s hope, the fragile kind, the scariest kind.

“Maybe he just wants to prove himself as a hunter. We’ve heard his skill is legendary to the Omiticaya” you suggest and Tsireya pushes at your shoulder, shaking her head.

“Maybe” Kiri shrugs her shoulders “But mating is important to Neteyam. He’s always wanted a big family, I think he really idolized our parents' marriage. Mom said he must’ve taken an interest in a mate if he’s making such a big deal out of being a recognized adult here”

A big family. Neteyam wants to be a father.

The thought is heady. The seed has been planted in your head and you know there is no way that you will ever be able to dig it out.

“Do you think that-”

You're cut off by booming laughter, by clatter and chaos. Who else could it be but Ao’nung and Lo’ak coming back from the caves, they had the worst possible timing. You shoot daggers at your cousins fat head.

“What are you girls whispering about over here?” 'Nung teases as he drops next to you in the sand,

“That would be none of your business” You snipe, “Skxawng ass”

“Why so hostile, cuz?” Ao’nung starts “I was the one who invited you out here? You don't want to spend time with little ol’ me?”

“I spend too much time with you as is. I was hoping you had drowned down in those caves so I could get a break- NUNG!” you squeal as your cousin shakes his head, wringing out his wet hair all over you. The water is shockingly cold against your sun soaked skin.

Soon enough, Neteyam and Roxto come in from the waves, baskets full of multicolored shells. More than happy to share as they join the small circle.

“You had such a bountiful catch!” Tsireya applauds, happily accepting the oysters that Roxto offers.

You’re awkward around Neteyam on a good day- there's something so intimidating about his beauty. So tall and angular. But today? After the admittance you’d made to his sister? You can barely look at him.

You feel heavy and clunky and ugh, why does he make you so nervous? You’re playing with your hair, twisting the thick tendrils around your fingers idly when Neteyam turns to you.

“Do you want some?” He asks, already prying the tough shell open with his knife.

“Oh, yes please. They’re actually my favorite” You grin, and at least your voice doesn't project all the nerves you feel.

“I know” He hands you the oyster once he opens it and you try not to pay too much mind to how his fingers brush yours.

“How would you know that?” you slurp at the rich juice, grateful.

“Roxto was telling me about it” He says simply, already working open another shell to hand out.

“Oh yeah! Y/N remember when you ate so many of these that you got sick at dinner! I’ve never seen someone puke that much, it was never ending” Roxto chuckles, igniting laughter from the group.

You wince, the memory is not a particularly good one and you don't enjoy reliving it. Especially not in current company. You can feel your cheeks heat intensely.

“It was so bad! You got it all over dad’s lap and he didn't know what to do” Ao’nung adds hysterically “He just started panicking- picked you up by your tail and tossed your ass outside”

Tsireya breaks, giggling behind her hand and Kiri all but chokes. Lo’aks shaking his head good naturedly as Ao’nung and Roxto are in stitches- the only one who doesn't laugh is Neteyam. No, instead he gives you a gentle kind of smile, before going back to his task of shucking.

You’re only the butt of the joke for moments more before it ping-pongs to Lo’ak, who has almost cut one of his odd five fingers off in the process of prying open an ornery shell.

“Oh! Look brother, how pretty” Kiri points out the large blush colored pearl that Neteyam had almost swallowed.

“That’s good luck!” You grin “They don't usually get that big”

Huh. Good luck you say?” Neteyam picks it out of the shell, holding it between his thumb and pointer as he examines how it shines in the sun. Beautiful…

You’re frozen when he reaches out, the pearl in the palm of his hand.

“Here” he offers it to you.

The purple flush that completely takes over your face crawls down your neck too. You're completely flustered by the simple gesture of good will.

You should tell him that you can’t take it- that he should give it to Tuk, his little sister that loves making jewelry. Instead you’re hungry for anything, will accept any scraps of himself that Neteyam will give to you.

“Irayo” you beam as you accept the pear, tucking it away in your satchel for safe keeping. “I love it!”

He just gives you another one of those ever soft boyish grins, his eyes pools of liquid amber.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the weeks go by, there’s a certain light to you. A bounce in your step,

“Your aura has changed” Ronal informs you of the fact as the two of you sit in the Healers Mauri, plumes of heavy incense filling the space with fragrant smoke.

She’s far into her pregnancy now, but that has never stopped her from completing her duties. The salves she mixes with an expertise that comes from years of trial and error are potent and coveted.

Your lips quirk into a private smile as your fingers continue their threading. Working on a personal project in between your chores. “Has it really?”

She assesses you, her turquoise eyes all knowing as she takes you in. You’re a woman grown now far from the small child she had taken in with her husband all those years ago. In theses last few months you have blossomed, like a flower unfurling. She had an inkling of why-

“You are thinking of accepting courtship this cycle, yes?” It’s not a question, but a statement. One she already knows the answer to.

“I am” you whisper. “If he decides to pursue me, that is”

The comfortable quiet is back, both of you focusing on your respective tasks. You’d always been content just to bask in your Aunt’s presence.

“The Sully boy would be a fool not to court you” Ronal breaks the silence bluntly and you really should've had expected that she already knew.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Where dread usually lives in your heart at this time of year, lies only excitement. Joy, that fragile hope as you prepare for the festival. Anyone who knows you can see the change, you throw yourself head first into ceremony prep. Spend hours sitting with Tsireya eagerly sowing together new pieces of clothing for the festivities.

You sing as you tend to your house work, sweet little tunes that your family is surprised to hear.

Tonowari is beaming, endlessly happy that you are going to give a member of the clan a chance. He’d been questioning your self induced isolation for years, and was eager to see which of his warriors had stolen your heart. Ronal refuses to tell him even though he knows she knows,

“It is not mine to share” his wife rebuff’s every time he questions.

As the day of the Iknimaya draws closer you try to make sure that Neteyam knows that you are open to courtship. You spend a decent amount of time with his family anyway, Tsireya and Lo’ak always connected at the hip and Kiri growing into a close friend.

You ask him about his training, tend to any wounds he may aquire diligently. Laugh at his bad jokes, and listen to his stories of home. He misses the forest, you can tell. You selfishly hope that there isn't a pretty Omaticayan girl waiting for him.

At dinner, in the largest communal mauri, filled to the brim with clans members who are all but vibrating with excitement for the close looming festivities, you navigate the people.

In your hands, a large plate made from a recycled shell piled is high. Fish roasted over the fire, steamed rice and root vegetables that you had harvested yourself.

You’d watched Neteyam along with a handful of other training warriors limp into dinner late. They look tired and worn down.

He’d plopped down next to his family without getting himself food, and that just wouldn't do.

“Jake, Neytiri- I see you” You greet his parents as you approach. The sit close together, always intertwined in one way or another.

‘He idolizes our parents marriage’

You understand Kiri’s words as you watch Toruk Makto and his mate, as you appraise their close bond.

Jake grins, Tuk in his lap. Greeting you right back, easy to conversate with. Neytiri is quieter, hard to read. Intimidating, just like Neteyam who favors her so much in looks. Still the older woman signs the greeting back to you.

“You look really rough” is not what you meant to say to their son. Neteyams brow bones rise and you could kick yourself. Definitely would later.

“Thanks, I feel it” Neteyam responds with a tired chuckle.

Instead you laugh too, albeit awkwardly, trying to remedy the situation “What I mean is, you didn't get yourself food- and I know how exhausting training can be. Here, please eat. I’d hate for you to lose strength this close to your rite”

He accepts the plate of food graciously and you try to ignore the heavy feeling of eyes on you. His families, the clans. People have noticed you, have noticed this act of service. There’s only one thing it can mean.

“Irayo Y/N, I appreciate you” he thanks, making room for you on the log that he’s sat atop “Would you like to sit with us?”

“Very much so- but I promised Elder Raou’wal that I would help him back to his mauri. His legs don't work like they used to, and I don't want him to fall again-” you curse your nature, the fact that you offer your help so freely.

All you want to do is take that seat, so close to Neteyam that your thighs would press against one and others.

“That is very kind” Neteyam soothes “It’s okay, another time”

“Yes, another time” You know you sound like an idiot. You feel like an idiot. Standing before him and his family uninvited.

You need to make a quick escape, overwhelmed by all of the attention. “Please, get some rest before tomorrow. I’ve had to tend to over worked warriors all week”

Neteyam’s grin…is something else. Something not so sweet. Something that makes you flustered, that he’s looking at you like that in front of his parents, in front of the tribe. “Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Will you be there, tomorrow?”

“Of course I will” your response is quick, eager and it just makes that look on his face more intense.

“Good. Then I know everything will go well” his words make your heart beat so loudly your ears ring.

You don’t even know what to say, can barley keep your cool as you utter goodbye to his family, all of them quite obviously amused as you begin to scurry away.

You know the blush is burning up your whole face, that everyone can see your feelings as clear as day.

But-

You can’t leave him like that. Not with him facing is Iknimaya in the morning, with all of its promises of danger.

“May Eywa be with you, tomorrow and always” you give him the quiet blessing, truly hoping that the great mother looks over him.

He softens, physically. All of him slumping, as though you had put a balm on a jagged cut.

You don't wait for a reply.

Tonowari watches the exchange from his place at the head of the room,

Oh.

That is who had caught your eye, the warrior that had broken your resolve.

He shares a look with Ronal, his eyes comically wide and she laughs lowly at him.

“Ah my love, you have always been so slow”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Iknimaya rituals go as they always go, a long day full of young, strong hearted Na’vi eager to prove themselves. Most of them don’t succeed, at least half of them will need to wait until the next cycle to attempt it again.

Your family is at the center, you stand proudly behind Olo’eyktan Tonowari and Tsahik Ronal as they guide the young clan members through the rite of passage. Tsireya beside you, knowing that next cycle it will be her and Lo’ak attempting their own rites. Ao’nung cheering on young hunters that he had trained himself.

You love all of your people, the Metkayina one beating heart under Eywa’s watchful eye- yet you can't tear your focus away from Neteyam.

Your eyes are glued to him, and him only. The entire time. You watch, anxious and in awe. He’s so strong, all lean muscle and sharp mind. He mounts his Skimwing on the first try, much to the surprise of his peers. The people cheer him on, whopping loudly.

He’s beautiful, capable and skilled. He’s…stolen something from you. Abducted your soul, enthralled your thoughts in a way that almost felt intrusive.

You watch as the son of the first becomes a son of the sea, a man in both the Metkayina and Omiticaya tribes. A feat that almost none have accomplished.

The Motnaui is tradition, the freshly rited hunters will join the seasoned on a days long hunt. The time in the open ocean solidifies their bond to the tribe, their place that they have earned. Their chief will join them. Tonowari is eager, ecstatic for the time he gets to spend with his new hunters. With his ever growing tribe.

Everyone gathers to see the hunters off, so much love filling the crowded beach. Your people a buzz, tearful. Joyous.

You trail your fingers over the colorful Lei that lies around your neck. It matches the floral wreath nestled atop your head; the orchids are vibrant shades of fuchsia pinks and sunset yellows to represent your family.

They come in all shades, neon greens and baby blues, lilac purples and vibrant reds.

They are traded between your people at this time of year. Elders give them to children, sisters to their brothers. Tonowari wears many around his neck, the visual representation of how beloved he is to his clan.

To give a Lei can be friendly and platonic, sure. Especially if it is one of the dozens that are made just to be handed out- if a person wears multiple for clear decoration and celebration purposes only.

It can also be a very clear invitation for courtship- or at the very least consensual coupling. If a woman takes her lei off her own neck and presents it to a man, it is a sign of ownership. Marking that the specific male is taken for the duration of the fertility season.

You need to give Neteyam yours before he leaves, you want him to know that he has you. That you are his- and that you want him to be yours. That you will wait for him as he hunts and when he returns, he can have all of you.

You’re trying to find him in the crowd, your eyes scanning for the familiar dark blue skin that stands out so shockingly amongst your people-

Neteyam is with his family, all of them exuding proud energy. His mother cups his face in her lithe hands, his sisters hold onto his arms. His father pats his shoulder and his brother stares at him like he’s hung the stars.

You don't want to intrude on the moment, but you have to catch him before he leaves-

It’s like watching a horrible accident, like being witness to carnage that you just can't stop.

Seychelle, a clans member two years your junior, is beautiful. She’s a skilled singer and the daughter of a high ranking fisherman. She’s tall and shapely with pretty eyes, and its her first cycle as an eligible adult. As a woman grown who is available to mate.

She walks right up to Neteyam and his family boldly. Unafraid or ridden by anxiety like you always seem to be. All flirty smiles and fluttering lashes.

You’re too far away, can't hear what she says but you wouldn't want to anyway. Your chest is caving in and you feel like you can't breathe, your ears ring with the lack of oxygen.

You could challenge her. You have a high standing in the clan. You have first choice when it comes to mates,

But instead you just stand there. Bare witness to her taking off her bright orange Lei and slip it around Neteyams neck. He accepts it without a fuss, grinning and you can see his mouth form the words “thank you”.

Your nose burns and tears prick threateningly at your eyes but you know you can not let them fall. Not here.

You do what you do best;

You run away.

Not bothering to explain your exit to anyone, you probably couldn't form words around the lump in your throat anyway, you run as fast as you can. The world feels very far away, like it exists without you in it.

Your family mauri is empty, everyone's still at the beach and you don't even bother making it to your bed. You collapse right inside the entrance as the tears finally over take you and your eyes flood over.

What were you thinking?

How had you read this whole thing so wrong?

Your mind is dangerous, cruel in its confused, hurt state. It assaults you and you sob into your hands. You feel stupid now, in the special clothes you'd donned. Your hair twisted meticulously-

He had never been interested in you, you’d taken his innate kindness and skewed it. Neteyam had just been nice to you and you being the simple minded girl you were- had tried to force it into something more.

You curse yourself, curse your heart. Curse that fragile hope that you had clung to so desperately.

You cry until you feel sick, your eyes swollen and back tight from sobbing. You’re dizzy and tired by the time you crawl over to your bed. You don't even get under the covers, just stare blankly at the wall of the mauri as tears roll down your cheeks.

Who knew one person could produce so many tears? You wonder when your body will run out. You don't know how much time passes, only aware that darkness starts to fill the space as the evening eclipse arises.

“Oh, YN” the silence is broken by your cousin's soft voice.

Tsireya had wondered where you had gone, had been confused about your departure until she clocked Neteyam with a Lei around his neck that was quite obviously not yours.

“I’m sorry” Is all she whispers as she slips into the bed next to you, her arm winding around your middle.

It starts a whole nother round of tears. Of crying, mourning what you thought you could have.

“I-I-I’m so s-stupid” you stutter, snotty and muffled. She shakes her head, tears of her own starting to form as she holds you tighter.

“No, don't say that cousin. You’re not stupid” Tsireya soothes as she pets your hair. It hurts to see you in such a state. This had to be a mistake, she had been so sure of Neteyams feelings for you. Everyone had.

You shake your head, because you know you are. You knew you had little chance and still you’d paraded yourself in front of him like an idiot.

Never again, you vow to yourself.

To your shattered heart.

Wow, okay I didnt expect this to be so big, but I got so caught up in Metkayina Lore building that I kind of got sidetracked. Safe to say 90% of this story is going to be canon divergent. All of this Lore is my own creation and not Mr. Cameron's.

I have to give a shout out to two authors in the Avatar fandom that have inspired me the most as I write this.

@tiredmamaissy has really carved out a niche when it comes to the sexual nature of Pandora. I love the way she portrays Na'vi relationships and if this story leans a bit A/B/O its because I cant see the Na've not going to Heat's/Ruts now. She's just so good.

@loaksky when I tell you that reading her work makes me want to hone my craft, I mean that shit. She is a wordsmith in a way that you don't see much anymore. I am obsessed with how she long hand story tells and I def feel inspired everytime I read one of her fics. Queen of will they wont they/ slow burn.

damn i need a fic w these mfs THEY ARE DOING SMT TO ME

more rlly quick sketches of my recom ocs, aka vipers only friends. they’re both snipers and the one w the beanie has a british accent. kobras the more talkative one while boa is just happy to be here. jacques is french and kobra is british. bffs for life

REALLLL they amt of times ive gotten the ick js bc authors dk how to fucking tag their fics

Hey just a friendly reminder to all the new and old fanfic writers for Avatar Way Of The Water, that "x oc" is NOT "x reader". I know the movie only came out a bit ago but I am seeing some writers tagging their work as "x reader" but its an oc. I'm tired of seeing "x oc" when I'm specifically searching for a "x reader". As soon as a author adds a name to the reader that sets it apart from the "x reader" tag. It is now an oc and a character. It doesnt matter if u dont like writing (y/n), y/n, (reader), (name) or even (___), these are what we use in place for the readers name or even their own oc. If u dont like using these don't write "x reader" content, This is so there is inclusion for everyone in the "x reader" tag as soon as an author adds a name it is needed to be tagged as "x oc", and ONLY "x oc"

So pls respect other readers and use the appropriate tags.

this is the realest thing ive seen on tumblr

and then wish to live like them afterwards

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

ミdaddy issues

part one | part two

🍓pairing: recom!miles quaritch x human fem reader

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

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

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

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

Things are good. At least, mostly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That makes you pause, and you squint at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How accurate was the dildo?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right!” You say, smiling. “Sure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? Nice job, princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” You say, surprised. “Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miles!” You hiss, mortified.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another pause, this one longer than the last. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes a moment for you to answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A drink?” You ask cautiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Geiszler just keeps ploughing ahead.

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

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

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

“Jesus,” You blurt, rearing back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. So he had noticed your absence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You left?” You repeat, frowning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’re you going?”

“I need to put this in the fridge-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” You ask, starting to grin.

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

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

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

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

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

But to your surprise, he pushes your hand away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit on my face, honey. Come on.”

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

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

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

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

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

That makes him laugh, teeth flashing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squint up at him. “With you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JDAHFSDHFEGHF I LOVE THIS IS LITERALLY THE CUTEST THING EVER

okay so this is a request (bare with me i’ve never done this) BUT

so imagine it’s the final battle from the first movie and tsu’tey is shot but navi!reader happens to be in the woods because she wanted to be helpful to the clan and stumbles upon tsu’tey 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 don’t 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 mo’at loves reader (sorry if this is too long i’ve never done this and i’ve 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

i'm tsu'tey

pairing: tsu’tey x fem na’vi 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… okay…' 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.

'…great mother, heal tsu'tey…' 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 y…you.' 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… name…' 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 the…' 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 @darkacademictrash​ @sweetdayme4427​ @callmeoncette @icarusthefoolish​ @neteyamsblog​ @avtprint​​ @taymaddie @s-surreality @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @daeneeryss @sakura-onesan @mechformers @sharkybabe9 @floralifetime @singular-itae @nilrilie @elegantkidfansoul @seashelldom @nnobodyiss @yaya6765 @dani111 @eternallyvenus @bothofm @slasherblog @ikranwings @neteyamyawne @tsuteyss

© avatarbyamara 2023 | all rights reserved. do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own.

i've never read anything like this before. love it!!! :)

Threadbare (1)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader (see series)

Summary: Steve gets to meet his favorite designer, and you get a surprise visitor at work.

Warnings: none. Maybe a bit of creepy behavior but not from Steve. Yes, I did just want to use the leather jacket gif for shiggles. What's it to ya? WC 3355

Steve Rogers hates stuffy functions. He hates the brown-nosing. He hates trying to convince people who have everything to give scraps to people with nothing. He hates watching the excess and indulgence, even when he knows it ends up giving something to those in need. He hates it. He hates the whole lot of these stupid, asinine—

Steve takes a breath and smooths his hand down the buttery fabric of a double-breasted jacket hanging next to his intended garment.

Ok, fine, he hates the functions, but he actually enjoys the dressing up part.

He didn’t used to. No. The only outfit outside of his Cap suit that ever truly fit him—before or after the serum—was his SSR uniform, and coming from a time of nothing, Steve accepted that as a huge win.

And then he woke up in this world of excess and—what do they call it? Fast-fashion?— realized that what should be easier to acquire was much, much harder to find: room to breathe.

Steve may roll his eyes at Tony’s custom everything, but he admits internally that at least Stark’s comfortable all the time. Steve would settle for being comfortable in his own skin.

This helps though, this gloriously draped, stiff in a supportive way, heavy in a grounding way, and shapely button down. He doesn’t need a whole suit tonight; it’s not that kind of event. In fact, Steve wasn’t specifically invited. He heard Tony talking about the new collection by the designer of this shirt—which happens to be the label for 90% of Steve’s dressier clothing at this point—and Steve outright volunteered himself to go with Tony.

See, Steve Rogers is now a big, broad guy, and it’s been an adjustment, as well as plain difficult, to gather a wardrobe that isn’t custom tailored due to his sheer size and proportions. The team jokes about his tight shirts, but if he buys things large enough for his shoulders, his waist swims in fabric. Steve had to live off of stretchy clothing for the first three years he was out of the ice. He wasn’t out of his Cap suit long enough for the investment to be worthwhile. Then it took another several years before he discovered Tovarich.

The man must know what it’s like to be big and broad, that’s for sure. Steve may not be much for high fashion, but he’s genuinely gotten so much comfort and enjoyment out of Mr. Tovarich’s work that Steve wants to thank him personally. For once, being Captain America is a good card to play to ensure he gets to meet the designer.

Steve adjusts his rolled sleeves a bit in the mirror, smirking at himself for being a bit of a dandy concerning his look right now, but he’s determined to have a good time out with Tony. It’s just a fashion show. How difficult can it be?

Really damn difficult, that’s what it is.

Steve isn’t prepared for the bizarre press interest in who is there instead of what is being shown. He’s used to cameras flashing at him—especially because the bright and loud pops of flashes were much worse in the ‘40s—but Steve’s in awe of the models’ complete indifference while walking a straight line with a straight face in some of the simplest, most magnificent men’s wear he’s ever seen.

If all he had to do was tick boxes on a list to order things, Steve would be in big trouble with a full bingo card and an empty wallet. It’d be worth it though.

Tony tries to talk to him every so often, but the music is outrageously loud. Steve can’t hear a thing.

He gets tapped on the shoulder by some women sitting behind him, and they try to say some more things he can’t hear.

Everyone rises to clap, and Steve joins in, overwhelmed by the fast pace of all the outfits on repeat, when the man on his other side accidentally elbows Steve and drops his program. The paper flutters to land in front of Tony’s feet, so Steve picks it up, hands it back, and the man makes an appreciative face before gesturing vaguely at the runway and mouthing his admiration. Steve nods and smiles, happy he’s not the only one fanboying over clothes.

The lights change in the venue. The photography and clapping stop. Tony starts yammering on about an after party, but Steve wants to meet the designer.

“Oh, Cap, that walk-and-wave was as close as you’re getting today. Tovarich is a hot commodity. I’ll just get you a fitting sometime.” He clamps a hand onto Steve’s shoulder and tilts his head toward the refreshments. “Shall we?”

Darn. Steve should have done more research on how fashion shows work, but he hates how invasive online snooping feels. It was fine when he was catching up on history and historical figures. However, most of the ‘news’ now is not news at all, so he avoids searching for information that way. He doesn’t ask question about Mr. Tovarich because, in theory, it’s none of Steve’s business and Steve may or may not be slightly ashamed at how obsessed he is with something as trivial as clothing.

Fashion is not something he thought about until very, very recently. The most time he’s spent worried about what he puts on is his tac suit, and the main features of that are being blade resistant and bullet proof. Those things don’t exactly interest him so much as they are in his best interest.

So Steve is rather disappointed by the outcome of the evening, but he’ll manage. For once, he’s got a tiny bright light of something to look forward to in the form of a few more dress shirts and a very sharp vest.

He goes on with life as usual.

Months later and they’re doing this thing.

It’s called the Hellfire Gala, and apparently, it’s a big, big deal. Steve’s told everyone goes all out, that he’ll need to be dressed to the nines, and he realizes this is his opportunity.

Tony’s elated to make the arrangements for him with the Tovarich Atélier and plans to go with him. He wouldn’t stop grumbling about how awkward Steve might be, raving that he can’t have Steve getting a bad rap under his clout, so Steve shows up nervous.

Tony sends a text saying he’s running late. Of course he is, today of all days.

Steve shuts his eyes and lowers his head in gratitude that there are only two seamstresses when he first arrives. The ladies—one older and one younger—offer refreshments and ask a few questions about the event and what styles he might be interested in. He explains the getup needs to highlight the ‘Cap’ persona since the gala is a celebration of their work as Avengers, but other than that, it’s the-sky’s-the-limit for Tovarich.

The younger seamstress smiles at that and calls it ‘fun.’

Sure. That’s one word for it. Steve would also call it daunting.

As instructed, he stands on a small platform while the ladies bustle about speaking quietly to each other. Steve hears Tony ring the reception bell before any measurements have started, and he heaves out a sigh of relief.

“In time for the good stuff, am I?” Stark winks.

“Always perfectly welcome, Mr. Stark,” you, the younger woman, say politely. “Would you care for anything to drink?”

“Uh,” Tony smooths his hand down his current suit front, eyes flickering to Steve, “have you met me?”

Your smile widens. “Dominica, please,” you signal to your coworker.

Between your fingers, you’ve folded a scrap of paper, something you scribbled while Steve stood awkwardly on the pedestal (which isn’t to say he has stopped standing awkwardly), and Tony snatches the paper from your grasp, unfolding it to make a challenging, inquisitive face.

Steve huffs and glares, praying his friend doesn’t start hitting on Tovarich’s employee before the man even shows up. Steve isn’t the one to be worried about.

Stark takes Dominica’s proffered tumbler of brown liquor, saying nothing.

You are a ninja with the tape measure, gentle hands sliding over his chest and waist and—Steve swallows—his hips, all while rattling off numbers…which no one writes down. Steve moves his arms and legs when told. When you’re kneeling on the edge of the platform, eye level with his crotch, Steve decides to distract himself and get some answers.

“I’ve been looking forward to my first meeting with Mr. Tovarich. When might he arrive?”

Tony clears his throat, wincing. “Not possible, buddy.”

Steve tenses.

“I thought that—“

“You can’t meet him for the the first time.” Tony holds up a hand before Steve can move. “You already did. She’s measuring the distance between your balls and the floor.”

Steve startles out a ‘what,’ snapping his legs shut with your hand between his thighs.

“Captain Steve Rogers, please meet your favorite designer,” Tony beams, shoving his tongue against the inside of his cheek and hiking up his eyebrows.

Steve shrinks, face burning.

“Hello, Captain Rogers,” you introduce yourself with a lovely smile, “I will…need my hand to make your suit, sir.”

His open-mouthed impression of a fish is cut short by standing at attention, releasing the seal of his thighs. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”

“Very polite,” you mutter before turning to Tony. “Mr. Stark, was that entirely necessary?”

“For the look alone, yes. My god, I’ll pay you again just to watch now that he knows.”

You push off the platform and practically skip over to Tony, reading over his shoulder. “How did I do?”

Tony looks at the piece of paper. “Damn it. Spot on,” Tony grunts.

“And that means…?”

“That I leave you alone for the rest of the consult,” Tony whines. “Fine, but make it worth it, buddy. Lady gets paid by the hour.” He snaps his fingers playfully. “Dominica, let’s take room two, my dear.”

Steve’s not sure what to do with his hands and mistakenly remains up high on the pedestal while you pull out a notebook and sit at a small table.

“Oh!” You look up at him with tender, lively eyes. “You may step down now.”

He feet seem to thunder to the floor even against the carpet. “I didn’t mean to—I just assumed that—I’m sorry, Misses—”

“It’s Miss,” you correct him. “And don’t worry. You are not the first, and you won’t be the last. Have a seat, Captain.”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” you correct yourself this time. “I’ll tell you a secret. I prefer that most people assume a man runs this business. You get to see people’s true colors when they finally find out.”

That doesn’t help Steve’s hot flush of embarrassment.

“You are one of the good ones. I can tell,” you add, adjusting to a fresh page in the notebook and marking the top corner.

In the silence Steve asks, “so you already knew my size?”

“You aren’t so different from my standard cut.”

“No,” he allows. Of course, he should have known that seeing as everything he buys from your label fits him so well. He kicks himself internally while trying not to frown at his slip up. It is, however, easy to keep a smile while basking in the glow of yours.

You pop your shoulder up into a shrug, lips morphing into a wry tease. “And I’m pretty good at what I do.”

Amazing, Steve thinks to himself. You’re amazing…at what you do.

Your elbow rests against the table, hand cupping your jaw as you hold Steve’s gaze.

“Some even call me a master of the male form.”

His swallow is deafening, which only makes you happier, and he looks down at his knee, rubbing his pant leg while his face heats.

“But for today’s purposes—“ you lean back in your chair, twirling your pencil playfully, a magic wand in your brilliant hands “—why don’t you tell me what makes me your favorite designer so I can make you my favorite client?”

Why’d you have to be so pretty? Why do you need him for so few fittings?

Steve has to stop himself from spending a Tony Stark-sized fortune on clothing for the pleasure of walking into your store and seeing you alone—well, in the hope of seeing you at all. Dominica is very sweet, sassy in a hard ass mom kind of way, and she’s one of four total assistants you have at the shop. Steve’s met three of them.

There’s just only one of you, and you’re busy.

Between his duties with the Avengers, actually sleeping, and debating with himself about what constitutes looking desperate, Steve is lucky to have caught you in-house only half the times he visits.

And then he tore a shirt. In fact, he tore three shirts, and to his credit, two of them were by accident. The third…uh, there’s a chance that when Steve exclaimed “oh shoot, I didn’t see that nail poking out” that he 100% saw that nail and deliberately brushed himself against that wall. He also may or may not have deliberately done it in front of Tony, faking that it was no big deal, because now he has the excuse that Tony is the one who told him to go see you.

Yeah, Steve agrees, if you say so.

He’s all excitement and nerves again when he rounds the corner of your street, but then the adrenaline shoots through Steve’s veins for a different reason.

A squad car has jumped the curb in front of your shop, lights flashing, doors left open, and Steve can hear lots of tense voices.

It’s a stressful enough day without the uninvited guest. Not many people—who know how you work and are not assholes—would dare to show up within a month of the Spring Show, without an appointment, and demand a rush job.

A rush job on a custom suit that you explicitly said could not be rushed before its scheduled time, mind you, but the surprise visitor doesn’t care.

Richard Fisk is broad. He has dirty blond hair that falls in front of his eyes when he tilts his head to smile. He often travels with a whole team of other imposing men.

The son of Wilson ‘Kingpin’ Fisk, however, is a prime example of personality souring good looks. Where it’s bashful and adorable that Steve Rogers hides his smile, Richard barely bridles his menacing entitlement.

You hate him, but he’s not a person you can outright refuse. He makes all of your assistants uncomfortable. Fisk is needlessly hostile to Tarik, who is thankfully not here today; he’s a creepy dick to Abby, who you insist stays in the fitting room with Anja, your longtime client who trusts you to push the envelope tastefully for a redheaded woman in her sixties; and he almost made Jules quit because he couldn’t follow instructions during a consult. Dominica stands in as the perfect buffer when she’s here, but the eldest of the Tovarich Atélier employees is currently on the other side of the city for a VIP delivery.

Your busy, busy day just got much harder.

His trio of beefy entourage flanks Fisk at the front of your shop.

“Here for my suit, sugar,” he drawls, flicking his used toothpick into a corner on the floor.

He eyes Abby as she shuts herself and Anja away from his direct ire, and although this leaves you alone, it stops your worry for their safety in addition to your own.

“As it stipulates in the commission, we take at least—“

“Those little hands are free now, I see,” he spits, stepping within an few inches of your face. His breath is foul and hot.

The aggression has you stumbling back, smashing into a side table and knocking a box of supplies to the ground.

“How ‘bout you get to work.”

You take in a heavy, fortifying, and quiet gasp. “Per your order, the fabric is manufactured off-site because teal is not a standard color. It takes time to produce. This was made very clear when you signed.”

Fisk flashes that menacing smile. “We can wait. One of these fine men can…keep you focused till you do your job.”

The condescending tone and disrespect of your work ethic spark flames of rage in your gut. Even though terror still simmers beneath, it’s too easy to let an insult fly.

“You’re lucky I’m even making it. The all white one last summer was a stretch, but teal? On you? Not something you can pull off.”

He lunges forward again. “Keep up the cheek, and I’ll lock you in my basement until I get everything I—“

“Ma’am,” a cop bursts through the shop door, “we got a call…” The officer goes quiet after one look at Fisk.

Abby must have phoned after hearing you knock supplies down, and you’re grateful, yes, but police are of little help with this guy. Cops wouldn’t dare ruffle Kingpin’s feathers or his awful son’s by proxy, but if you roll over now, you’ll never get back out from under him.

The only way forward is to put your foot down.

“Mr. Fisk, I wouldn’t make you a black and white striped three-piece if you did chain me in a basement. You’re a spring, and I have standards.”

“Ma’am,” the officer warns, his partner standing nervously in the open doorway.

“What kind of professional would I be if I let you walk around looking like a mental asylum inmate? I’m doing you a favor!”

Richard brandishes another toothpick. “The customer is always right, sugar.”

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid to taunt him and yell. Being insulted and diminished doesn’t make you want to be smart though; it makes you want to be right.

Your hands ball into fists of fear and rage. “It’s my name on the label,” you bark, “and I could just refund you to get you the hell out!”

Now you’ve really done it.

The boy gangster’s face twists and his oral fixation goes limp in disbelief. No one talks to Richard Fisk that way, least of all women.

His men step between both the cops and their boss, leaving Fisk himself to grab a solid wood tie box from the nearest counter and fling it at your face.

Your arms fly up to block it, but nothing ever connects, nor is there a crash behind you.

An officer’s voice wavers from across the room. “Uh, I’m sure this can all be worked out. No need to…start anything.”

You’re ashamed to say that your hands are shaking when they return to your sides and reveal an entirely different bulky blond.

Steve Rogers casually holds the caught box in his hands, staring daggers as he shifts squarely in front of you to block Fisk.

“This doesn’t concern you, Captain,” the bully grunts. “Piss off.”

Steve strides forward to replace the box neatly and plants himself inches from Fisk’s face.

“Can’t do that. She’s expecting me.” He turns back to you. “Ready?” Steve asks with a tight smile.

You swallow down one iota of your alarm and clear your throat.

“Yes—” the word cracks but you hope familiarity will scare off Fisk for now “—thank you, Steve.”

That seems to be Captain America’s cue to handle everyone else at odds in the storefront. By the time you get control of your trembling limbs, Steve has shown Fisk the door and promised the officers that you’ll be looked after.

Abby peeks out of the fitting room, surprised to see only Steve.

“Did they send you instead?”

She opens the door wider for Anja to see.

The redhead quirks an eyebrow. “Call the police more often, honey. They’ve upped their game.”

The now bashful, broad blond tilts his head, rogue hair falling across his face. His blue eyes sparkle beneath long lashes while he apologizes for lying, but you can’t for the life of you figure out why he’d feel guilty.

“I…” Steve stumbles. “I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to see you.”

Currently estimating four parts to this grumbling into the ether but who knows. I clearly cannot be trusted to estimate length anymore...

[Next Part]

You can find more to read on my Main Masterlist! For readers under 18, please see the Light Masterlist which contains all-age-friendly works.

@supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @femefetalelevelingup @darsynia

USDFDHEFHDG THIS GOT ME GIGGLINF AND EVERYTHING i loveeeddd it <33

𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — (𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘)

— language, just two flustered dorks & a ton of fluff, sort of love at first sight (?), friends to lovers, brief fake relationship, eventual jealous!neteyam, kissing, heavy angst & character death.

just this once. you were supposed to help tsireya out just this once. but how are you supposed to help out your best friend when it involves distracting one of the most sought-after warriors from their clan? how are you supposed to distract him for a single day without catching feelings for him? you find yourself in a position where you realize it's impossible for you to meet neteyam "just this once".

a/n: this is just a prologue to the actual story, so i don't expect it to do well lol (please don't let the general fluff deceive you, this story doesn't have a happy ending !!)

"hellooo, earth to na’vi?" tsireya called, waving her hand in front of your distracted gaze.

it was early in the morning when she managed to find you tending to the ilus by the reef, her unannounced visit catching you off guard. you only sighed at her words as you turned to face her.

"you should stop spending so much time with that forest boy, you're starting to sound like him." you muse, prompting a soft laugh from your best friend.

the moment you got up and started your descent back into the village, tsireya trailed closely behind. you narrowed your eyes as she followed you silently. she was up to something.

"what is it?" you sighed. despite your attention focused on what was in front of you, you could sense her growing smile from behind.

"about that forest boy.." she grinned, already sensing your intrigue.

"i’m listening." you hummed, exchanging quick greetings with the passerby clan members.

"i need you to distract his brother." she whispered, her words only making you quirk a brow.

it had been two weeks since the sullys first arrived. like tsireya, you were happy to welcome them into the clan. the only difference, however, was that you had no time to be around them.

as awa'atlu's hidden jewel, you had spent an ample amount of your time practicing your dance choreography for the clan's future celebrations instead.

today's duties would be no different.

"you know i'm far too busy with rehearsals to waste time with some boy." you sighed, noticing her disappointed frown.

"it’s not like you have a choice! my father requested you teach them the history of our upcoming dance festival." she pouted.

in all honesty, you weren't surprised—coming from a family whose legacy is known for passing down the title of being the clan’s sole principal dancer, you would be the most suitable for the task.

"so you're trying to sneak off with your crush while i’m at work?" you jokingly scoffed.

"and what if i am?" she grinned.

"you’ve become shameless, tsireya." you laughed, nudging your elbow into hers.

"come on, do it for me! you’ve already been ordered to meet with them today." she insisted, tugging at your arm. you only stared into her doe eyes as she silently waited for you to give in—which of course, worked.

"if it's my duty, i suppose i don't have a choice. but you owe me for this." you sighed before shortly erupting in giggles as she pulled you by the hand to the sully’s pod.

—

making your way over, tsireya was first to knock. the sound of her sudden presence only caused lo’ak to stumble over his brother's wooden carving. peeking your head in, the two of you couldn't help but laugh as you witnessed neteyam scowl at his brother.

"tsireya! and.. tsireya’s friend? what’s up?" lo’ak greeted as his brother only turned his head at the mention of another face.

"lo’ak, this is my closest friend—the one who'll be joining us today at the reef." you silently waved as tsireya introduced your name.

"nice to meet you." he hummed, pausing for a brief moment. there was a sudden hint of hesitation in his eyes.

"you.. haven't heard anything about me from the others, have you? you can't trust a single thing ao'nung says." he jokes nervously.

"oh, trust me, i’ve already heard a lot of things about you from tsire—mmph!" your words were cut off the moment tsireya palmed her hand over your mouth, hissing.

fortunately, your banter was cut short the moment his elder brother made his way over to the three of you. slowly releasing her hand from your face, tsireya cleared her throat.

"ah—this is neteyam." she coughed. a few moments passed in silence before she noticed how you froze up.

“introduce yourself.” she whispered, nudging your arm with her elbow to speak. your back naturally straightened in response as heat rose to your cheeks.

“i’m—uh, nice to.. meet you?” you stuttered. shit. it was your first time meeting him and you’ve already embarrassed yourself, you mentally cursed.

“hey nice to meet you, i’m neteyam.” he silently mused.

nobody laughed but him.

neteyam only mouthed a small 'what?' as everyone stared at him for a few moments. you, however, couldn't hold back a chuckle.

it wasn't the joke itself that was funny—no, the joke was absolutely terrible. instead, it was the confused expression on his face, as if he hadn't just dropped the worst joke imaginable.

“bro, are you trying to win worldwide fame for unfunny jokes?” lo’ak sighed.

“i thought it was pretty funny.” he shrugged, his eyes silently searching for your reaction.

“yeah, funny.” you scoffed, meeting his gaze for a stilled moment.

his expression was serious, but you noticed the way it slightly softened when he looked at you. as if the way he looked at you just felt different from the way he looked at everyone else.

you can't quite put your finger on it, but there's just something that makes you think you might just get along with him.

tsireya only grinned as the two of you unknowingly locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

"well, if you don't want the day to pass us, i suggest the two of you join at us at the reef!" tsireya waved, grabbing lo’ak’s hand. as you watched their figures retreat, neteyam’s tail tapped your leg.

“shall we?” he hummed, slightly bowing down like a prince as he took a few steps before you.

“why of course, my liege.” you mocked whilst doing a slight curtsy. you couldn’t help but reciprocate his coy smile as you followed him to the edge of the docks.

you were the first of the four to dive into the water, submerging your entire body until your hair was completely soaked. you watched as neteyam stood over you from the dock while lo’ak and tsireya jumped in.

“you do swim, do you not?” you smiled, looking up at him from below. for a few moments, he didn't respond. you frowned at the fact that you couldn't read his expression.

what are you thinking? is what you wanted to ask him, but the two of you had just met, and you didn't think it would be appropriate to pry, no matter how curious you were.

what neteyam couldn't tell you, however, was that he couldn't get into the water because he was too focused on you.

what were the chances of the sun's horizon hitting your face the exact moment you were before him? the orange rays shined brightly onto your features.

golden hour looked beautiful on you.

"…what a ridiculous question." he scoffed, dismissing his thoughts. you only smiled as droplets of water splashed onto you the moment he dived in.

"you finally joined us." tsireya laughed, swimming further out with lo’ak on their ilus.

following their lead, you called for your ilu, diving underwater to grab onto the saddle and resurfacing shortly after. the moment you returned to neteyam’s side, he couldn't help but watch as your ilu nuzzled it's face against his.

"mine’s got quite the charm." he hummed, though you only snorted at his smug remark.

"what?" he questioned, eyeing your unimpressed reaction.

"these ilus are mated, neteyam." you laughed, watching as he mouthed a silent 'oh'. you were quick to swim further ahead, calling out to him as you turned back.

"come on, forest boy. we have places to explore!" you smiled, turning around to follow after tsireya and lo’ak. neteyam only shook his head, scoffing a laugh before following shortly behind.

—

a few minutes into the journey, you suddenly paused, sitting still atop your ilu for a brief moment. your eyes focused on the horizon as you basked in the warmth of the sun on your face.

"what’s wrong, tired already?" neteyam teased, making his way to your side.

"don’t get funny with me." you scoffed, playfully pushing him off his ilu with your leg. you erupted in laughter as you watched him slowly rise back up to the surface, glaring.

"very funny, now help me back up." he sighed.

you hummed and offered your hand as you waited for him to settle back atop his ilu, though your smile only faded as his next action caught you off guard.

the moment he grabbed onto your hand, he pulled you down with him. you could only yelp as you already felt yourself falling in. rising back up to the surface, you gasped for air, turning to face neteyam’s satisfied expression.

"you’re a pain." you scoff, running your fingers through your hair and out of your face as neteyam stole a glance while you weren't looking.

once again, neteyam watched as the orange hues clashed with your teal skin—sunkissed and glowing with shades of gold displayed naturally onto you.

he figured if anyone was the embodiment of the sun's beauty, it'd be you.

you eventually met back up with tsireya and lo’ak, spending the following hours swimming through the ocean till sunset. the four of you conversed on your ilus, floating still above the deep ocean. along the way, you taught the two brothers about the tradition of awa'atlu's celebrations.

"the clan continues to hold the festival annually to mark another year of living among the reefs. it’s a symbol of the clan's life and our peace." you remarked.

"…and you dance for such a grand occasion?" lo’ak awed.

"mhm, so does ao'nung. our festival is to take place in the following weeks, your family arrived just in time." you hummed.

as the sun began to set, your conversation had gradually come to an end. you began to wonder when exactly tsireya would need your 'help', though your question was shortly answered.

"you know, i was actually hoping to assist a certain someone with their diving skills before the day ends." tsireya coughed, narrowing her eyes at lo’ak. anyone could see how smitten he was with her by the way his tail instantly swayed at her words.

"alright, let's get on with it then." neteyam hummed.

shit.

in that moment, you realized exactly what you needed to do, mentally cursing neteyam for being so blissfully ignorant. and if it wasn't clear enough already, tsireya’s glare spoke for itself. as she tilted her head at you, the question 'what are you waiting for?' was written all over her face.

"ah, wait—actually, neteyam!" you called, your words causing him to turn back.

"i was wondering if you could accompany me—back to the.. beach." you blurted, his questioned expression only made you gulp.

"there’s a certain spot that me and tsireya like to visit, it's beautiful past dusk."

"i’ll.. i’ll be busy, for the next few days—so today may be the only time in which i’ll get to show it to you." you reasoned.

as neteyam turned back to tsireya and lo’ak for their thoughts, he was met with his brother glaring at him to agree and tsireya smiling happily.

"it’s a very lovely place, neteyam. i’ll make sure to bring lo'ak there as well." she exclaimed.

"then.. if you're happy to have me, i’d like to come along." he smiled, waiting for your directions. you sighed at his words, feeling a giant weight lift off your chest as tsireya made her way to your side.

"well, i’ll meet back with you before eclipse! have fun." she smiled. you only sighed as she mouthed a quick 'thank you' before swimming off with lo’ak. you turned back to face neteyam, huffing quietly as you realized you wouldn't be returning home anytime soon.

—

the orange skies of pandora were slowly replaced with purple as the sun began to set. the two of you walked down the path that was dimly lit by torches as younger children ran past you giggling. a few were quick to run into your arms, calling out your name as they laughed.

"what are you all doing out this late? your mother is probably looking for you, hurry back!" you smiled, ruffling their hair.

"please show us your dancing again!" the youngest begged, tugging at your sash. the others eagerly nodded as they stood in front of your crouched figure.

"how about i let you all come by and watch me rehearse tomorrow morning instead?" you smiled, handing them a small seashell that you'd previously collected from the ocean.

despite your wager, the kids persisted, begging to stay. neteyam did nothing but watch in silence as you spoke to them. he couldn't help but smile, feeling feel his heart tighten at the sight of seeing qualities of his youngest sister in them.

soon after, the eldest child, perhaps around six or seven, showed up and saw you and neteyam with their siblings. their ears turned down in embarrassment as they completely misunderstood the situation.

"you guys! can’t you see they're on a date? come on, let's head home!" the eldest scolded, muttering apologies to both you and neteyam while you stood up.

"what? wait, we aren't—"

your words were cut short as neteyam took your hand and interlaced his fingers with yours. his hands were huge, his fingers were slender, and his touch was warm compared to your own.

"that’s right, you should all head home before your parents get worried." neteyam smiled, watching them all apologize before quickly running back home to their pod. you only narrowed your eyes at him the moment they left.

"what? they would've never left had i not gone along with it." he smiled.

the two of you carried on walking down the path, though you found yourself unable to muster up anything as you realized his hand was still holding yours.

neteyam, however, was quick to notice your silence. like the respectable son he was, he was quick to let go, apologizing.

"wait—sorry, i didn't realize—did i make you uncomfortable?" he stuttered, mumbling apologies.

"what? oh—no! no. i just.." you struggled to find the right words to say as he continued to stare down at you.

"sorry, your eyes make me shy." you weakly mumbled, covering your flustered face with your hands for a brief moment.

after what seemed like minutes, you slowly peeked through your fingers to see neteyam’s reaction as he continued to fall silent. safe to say, it was the complete opposite of what you were expecting.

"are you.. blushing?" you questioned.

"what? no." he retorted almost instantly. for some reason, seeing him in such a state brought back the casual expression you once had.

"don’t tell me.. i got the ever-stoic neteyam to blush?"

"no, it's.. the cold." he huffed, pointing out the fact that the sun had just completely fallen.

"the cold, and not what i just said?" as you watched him look away to the side, you hardly found the words to carry yourself casually.

"no."

he was blushing harder.

you took a deep breath in, eyeing back and forth between him and his hand. finally, you chose to take the latter, grabbing his hand into yours as you pulled him to the spot you and tsireya spoke of.

"wait, what are you—"

"does this answer your question?" you voiced, weakly smiling as you walked further towards the outskirts. watching your figure guide him forward, all neteyam could do was smile.

"yeah."

you let go of his hand once the two of you reached the spot. otuer than the shoreline leading to the reef, it was a secluded sandbank far from the village that was surrounded by enormous rocks. it had a view of the full moon right above the ocean in the center. neteyam only stood there in awe of the view.

"what do you think? was it worth the wait?" you smiled.

"definitely.” he sighed, walking toward the shore and stepping his feet into the water. his smile as he turned back to face you made your heart skip a beat. maybe once, twice, shit—maybe even three times.

there’s just something moon-soaked and dawn-flavored about him, something kissed by the stars and loved by the night. neteyam was a warrior who was your opposite in every way. and yet, in some ways, the two of you seemed to be the exact same.

you were only supposed to help tsireya distract him, just this once. but the damage was already done the moment your eyes met.

something began to spark.

the two of you continued to revel under the moonlight until tsireya finally returned with lo’ak. as neteyam showed his brother the view, tsireya was quick to pull you over.

"so, how was it?" she smiled.

"it wasn't as bad as i thought it'd be." you shrugged, your gaze fixed upon neteyam’s figure as his back faced you. tsireya, being the observant person she was, made note of this. there was nothing you could do that your best friend couldn't notice.

"then, i sense the two of you have gotten close?" she teased.

"don’t start, tsireya. i was just helping you for today." you sigh, your thoughts contradicting your words.

"whatever you say." she hummed.

"but just so you know.."

"you’re not very hard to read." she grinned, walking back towards the two brothers. you swore your felt your eye twitch at her words.

as tsireya pulled lo’ak over and continued to gaze up at the moon, you faced neteyam, one last time.

"i guess this is my cue to go." you hummed, watching his tail sway back and forth like a cat.

"yeah." he smiled hesitantly.

"…"

"will i.."

"will i see you again?" neteyam questioned. you paused for a brief moment, contemplating your next, careful words.

"i don't know." you responded, observing his slight frown.

"but i hope so." you whispered.

"yeah?" he smiled.

"i hope so too."

@ novarity / 6idgets — do not translate, repost, or copy my work to other sites.

DAMNN slow burn fr but im excited asl

THE GREAT WAR I: bruised like violets — tsu’tey

— when accompanying dr. augustine, norm spellman, and jake sully to explore the pandoran forest, you and sully become separated from the group. you barely survive the night before a na’vi woman rescues you.

INCLUDES fem!reader, dreamwalker!reader. mentions of tom’s (jake’s twin) medical history and death + his (purely platonic! brotherly!) relationship with reader, near death experiences. 3.7k words.

NOTE my knuckles were WHAT? 🎤 for the sake of this fic and my sanity, let us pretend time dilation is not a thing because that complicates all sense of logic in this fic’s timeline.

SERIES MASTERLIST | part ii

The familiar darkness of the link unit’s space shrouds you as you open your eyes, mind still reeling despite your countless ventures in your Avatar. Pushing the link’s cover open, you slowly sit up, wiping the sweat lining your forehead.

Dr. Max Patel greets you with a clipboard in hand.

“Grace is waiting for you.”

Your eyebrows jump. “Did she see me and Txur’ii shoot Sari seeds at the other kids again?”

Dr. Patel steps back, gasping, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You said you’d stop doing that!”

“They started picking on him again!”

Txuri’ii is the Na’vi kid you almost plowed into the first time you tested your Avatar. He’s smaller compared to other Na’vi boys his age; a little thinner than usual too. It’s the reason you didn’t immediately see him that first time. He’s grown to be the source of entertainment for the other Na’vi kids, picking on him and bullying him.

When you learned of this, you dragged the kid and gathered all uncollected Sari seeds you could find. Borrowing two straws from the lab, you then hid behind the bushes as you preyed on Txur’ii’s tormentors.

You showed him as you stuffed the Sari seeds in your mouth and brought the straw to your lips. As the tallest of the bullies turns his back in your direction, you blow a seed through the straw, hitting the kid on his nape.

Txur’ii’s delighted squeak almost gave away your hiding spot.

One time, Dr. Augustine caught you and Txur’ii, and she berated you like a little kid when you got back in the lab.

You jump down the link unit, fixing your rumpled up shirt. You bid Dr. Patel goodbye, squashing down your smile with a finger to your lips and an obnoxious “shh.”

There’s a familiar face in Dr. Augustine’s vicinity. You stop short in your tracks, squinting your eyes as if that will help you understand the situation better.

You glide your palms over the edges of tables as you wade closer to where he’s talking with Dr. Augustine and Spellman in a wheelchair.

Last you heard, he’d been caught in a mugging incident. No one wanted to talk to you about it and the rumors you’ve heard said he was in a coma.

You suppose those were that — rumors, since he’s here, in the flesh, right in front of you. But what the hell happened?

“Tommy?”

You seem to have interrupted Dr. Augustine’s litany. All three of them turn their heads toward you and you get a perfect view of his face. He looks so different; definitely a lot more mature with the scruff. With your eyes trained on Tommy, you don’t see Spellman’s forlorn gaze as the realization dawns upon him.

“It’s — Jake, actually,” Tommy says. He offers a hand to you. “Jake Sully.”

Jake Sully.

Your eyes flit back to the head scientist, noting the way her eyes are quite softer than usual. Her cigarette hangs forgotten between her fingers.

“Another Sully?” you murmur. You recall Tommy mentioning a twin brother back when you were still on Earth but never meeting him in person.

He has exactly the same features as him but he doesn’t have Tommy’s calm and friendly aura. You don’t know if that’s the reason he kind of irks you suddenly or it’s something else.

You prop your hands to your waist, looking around. “Where’s Tommy? Has he recovered?” He hasn’t returned your video calls. Just last week, you tried contacting him again, hoping he’s woken up. All you received was an automated response, which made sense if he was traveling halfway through the solar system in cryo, though you would have preferred if he sent you a little heads up.

Jake Sully’s eyebrows reconnect, quizzically looking at the two scientists before saying, “Tommy’s dead.”

A sigh is caught in your throat. You want to ask him to repeat that but if you once again hear what you thought you just heard, you don’t know how you’ll be able to take it.

“Right.” You clear your throat, swallowing the lump that’s making your eyes burn. “Yeah, of course, I knew that.”

The sarcasm makes the dents in his forehead deeper, tilting his head to the side as he watches you.

“How do you—?”

“I gotta get back,” you suddenly announce, already walking away. You don’t bother sparing them another glance as you walk out of the laboratory, a lone tear trailing down your cheek. You’re quick to put your exopack on, a humorless chuckle escaping your lips at the betrayal choking you the way not even the Pandoran air could.

You’re evasive of the other scientists for the past week. Even in your Avatar form, you avoid any interaction with Dr. Augustine and other Avatar drivers.

Their silence about Tommy’s death makes something ugly curl in your stomach. You haven’t seen him since you were 14. Your stubborn mind refuses to accept what Jake Sully said about Tommy because that is just impossible. If anyone deserves to live the longest life they could on this godforsaken moon, or even back there on Earth, it would have been Tommy.

Tommy, who you basically grew up with. Despite being under the Colonel’s wing, there still wasn’t much to life. It was only then that Tommy started hanging out with you did you come out of your shell.

“Y/N!”

Dr. Patel’s familiar voice cuts through your peace. He jogs over to you, worn clipboard in hand. You don’t think he has ever put that thing down. It looks three seconds away from disintegrating.

“Grace is looking for you.”

You say nothing but follow the scientist back to the lab. Inside, you see Jake Sully, Dr. Augustine, and Spellman huddled together.

Dr. Augustine greets you before gesturing towards Sully. “Marine’s coming with us.”

You raise your eyebrows, making an effort to not look at any of them.

“For the research,” she adds. “Norm’s coming too.”

You say nothing as you move and get ready, settling in your own unit. You see Spellman give Dr. Augustine a withering look and you roll your eyes.

To your left is the other Sully’s link unit. You watch as he methodically hauls himself up the machine, lifting his upper body first before hooking his arms under his knees to position his legs.

As you settle and close your eyes, you wonder how he ended up like that.

Spellman’s excited chatter grates at your ears. Tommy used to be like that. It was what you bonded over in the first place. And usually, you’d be more than happy to be out here with Dr. Augustine but you’ve been off-kilter ever since Jake Sully ceremoniously dropped the news.

The forest of Pandora is still a wonder to you despite residing here for the past six years. Though Dr. Augustine had been here much longer than you have, her stacks of files are endless about the Pandoran flora and fauna. It seems like the moon spits out new species every single day.

You huff as the two scientists crouch over a braid of roots, injecting a needle to see the synapses transmit on the small screen Spellman holds. You turn around and realize Sully is nowhere to be found.

Your company is too preoccupied with their discovery so you leave them be, following the ruffles of footsteps against fallen leaves. Pulling back a giant leaf, it reveals Jake Sully tapping away on a bunch of Helicoradian plants.

You don’t make yourself known, watching from the sidelines as a smile spreads across the man’s face. Sully is more… tolerable, you’d say, in his Avatar form. Though the aura you cannot place is still emanating off him, he also has that air of innocence.

You startle as the walls of Helicoradian vanish from his ministrations and instead reveal a crash of Hammerhead Titanotheres, one of which notices your acquaintance and releases a loud cry. They’re like giant rhinoceros, a spattering of blue and purple with thick armor.

You curse under your breath, stepping forward to get closer to him but still hidden from the animal.

“Don’t shoot!” you bark when you notice him grip his gun, finger on the trigger. “Don’t you dare shoot, Sully! That’s got armor thicker than your skull.”

The Titanotheres rakes its foot on the forest floor before charging, letting out another cry, leaving a flurry of dust in its wake. You’re helpless and frozen on your spot as Jake Sully stands his ground, leveling the giant’s cry with a shout of his own.

This seems to deter the animal, skidding to a stop. You think it whimpers. Sully is as surprised as you.

“You son of a bitch!” he spits. He huffs out a laugh and you grimace at the air of arrogance surrounding him. He spews out some more nonsense as the Titanotheres cowers and scurries away… until you hear something worse than a Titanotheres.

Behind Jake Sully stands a Thanator. Its cry pierces the air, sending shivers down your spine.

“Okay, now, what do I do?” The marine asks, gauging the animal. “What do I do?”

Oh, you’d beg Eywa to bring that Titanotheres back.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you grit out. “Run!”

Jake Sully runs, abandoning all sense of dignity as he sprints — toward you. The Thanator charges and chases Sully and you have no choice but to run too, unless you want to be a predator’s lunch. You hear a distant, “what the hell is going on?” from Dr. Augustine as you run past her and a wide-eyed Spellman.

In your head, you’re cursing Sully in the darkest pits of hell. You are not fit for running. Your lungs strain as you fight to breathe, legs already aching and you pray to all the gods you know that your ankles will not give out on you this time.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Sully chants. The Thanator growls and you think you can feel it breathing just behind your neck.

“There!” Sully points to an uprooted tree. You don’t question his decision, partly because you don’t have a choice. The two of you burrow under the thick roots, dirt on your hands and knees as you try to crawl further down the shallow hole.

The animal roars, sending a giant claw in your direction. You try not to scream as the roots practically disintegrate on its assault, a shower of wood falling over your heads. Jake Sully tugs on your hand, moving out of your hiding spot and taking off again.

“This is your fault,” you wheeze out, greens and blues flying by your peripheral. “Stupid shit.”

He doesn’t hear you or maybe chooses to ignore you. You don’t care. If you weren’t on the brink of death, you’d kill Jake Sully with your bare hands.

“We gotta jump!” He shouts over his shoulder.

Though there is a giant deadly animal chasing your asses, you skid to a stop, making the marine stumble.

“No.”

He ignores you again, pulling on your wrist hard enough to pop it. The Thanator unleashes another cry, sounding closer than ever.

“We jump on three!”

It’s then you hear the wild splashes of water. You’re running head on on the edge of a cliff. You’re going to die and Jake Sully is the last person you’ll see. It’s enough to make you want to cry.

“One!”

“No!” You try to pull your wrist free from his hold but his grip only tightens.

“Two!”

“I said no!”

“Three!”

“I can’t swim!”

You don’t jump.

Jake Sully does.

But he hasn’t let go of you. His momentum drags you along and you’re free falling to your death first and sinking beneath the waters next. During your fall, Sully’s hold on you disappeared. Your chest tightens in more ways than one.

The panic creeps in and your lungs constrict as you take a deep breath, choking on water and going blind in hysteria. You thrash, mind reeling and trying to open your eyes but between the choking and the drowning and the dying, you can’t find it in you to think.

Something wraps beneath your arms and pulls. You break out of the surface, sputtering and blinking away the water, to find Jake Sully in front of you.

“Hey, hey,” he shakes your arms. Stray strands from his braids are clinging to his face. “Are you okay?”

You hear a faint cry from above, the Thanator peering down at you.

“Can we—?” you cough, eyes stinging and nose burning. “Can we get out of the water first?”

Sully hauls you off the river and into land. You fall to your knees and heave, getting water out of your system. Your clothes are drenched and you assume he lost his gun along the way. There might be no Thanators here but the forest still isn’t safe.

You shudder, running a palm over your face to get rid of the rivulets. It’s no use since your palms are wet.

“This is your fault,” you say again, glaring at the man shaking his arms as if it will dry his clothes faster. Whatever vulnerability you showed when he pulled you out was already gone. “If your stupid little ass didn’t wander off, we won’t be here right now.”

“Hey,” he protests, walking over to where you are, boots leaving behind a damp trail. “I just saved your ass back there.”

“Okay, and?”

Sully blows out a breath. You can see the frustration seeping through his façade.

“Get up, we need to find our way back.”

You roll your eyes but don’t protest, knowing he’s right. He doesn’t bother to help you up as he walks away and you don’t bother calling his name as you stagger behind, sniffling and coughing still.

Trekking the forest is much harder with your clothes sticking to you uncomfortably. You’ve never explored this part so it was much harder to navigate, though Jake Sully doesn’t seem as worried as you are. Your legs are tired and your nose still has not recovered from the water you inhaled. You’d love nothing more than to be back in your human form and actually breathe.

It’s nearing eclipse and the two of you are still deep in the forest. Your clothes have not fully dried but not as damp as before but as night creeps closer, the temperature slowly drops and you shiver every now and then.

“We won’t make it back to camp in time,” you say, pushing back leaves in your way. Sully, ever the gentleman, doesn’t so much as help you jump over rocks, letting you clamber your way up like a soaked baby koala.

“No shit.”

“You are so fucking annoying.”

Sully huffs, turning around to look at you. “So are you.”

You jab a finger in his direction, growing more aggravated each passing second. “Shut the fuck up. If it wasn’t for your sorry, stupid as fuck fucking ass, we won’t be here, okay? We could be back in the lab right now — I could be back in the lab right now and resting on that very stupid and inconvenient bunk but no! I am stuck here with you of all people!”

“Hey—”

“I could have died and it would have been your fault.”

Jake Sully stops and you try to swallow the emotions, try to stop the burning sensation behind your eyelids. You are far more collected than that, far more articulate and definitely far more level-headed if it were a better day but you nearly died. Every breath still hurts your lungs and your body aches in places you never thought it could hurt.

He holds up a hand between you, as if conjuring up some healthy boundaries. You think he looks a little conflicted and it’s a fresh look on him.

“Listen kid.” Oh, you hate that condescending tone. “You and I, we need to work together, alright? If you wanna survive, you follow what I say. You don’t want to? Okay—” he makes a grand gesture of spreading his arm, as if giving you liberty, “—I’ll leave you out here to really die. Your choice.”

You scowl at him, fighting the urge to just reach up and grab at his face and squeeze so hard his eyeballs would pop out. But between the two of you, it’s the marine who knows more about survival skills than you ever could so you comply, grumbling after him in the darkness.

“This better not include more cliff jumping,” you remark, kicking pebbles along the way.

“We need to make a fire,” he announces. You stare at his back, wondering if he hit his head when you jumped off.

“How the fuck are we going to do that?”

“Do you have matches?”

You mutter some more nasty comments as you tap on your clothes, checking the pockets. You find a box of it on a pouch on your chest, pulling it out to find it dripping.

“Well,” you hold it between your fingers, watching as water drips, drips, drips on the dirt, “isn’t that lovely.”

Jake Sully curses, searching his pockets. He stills when a growl comes from behind the bushes, and the sound glues you to your spot. You unconsciously take a step toward him, listening intently as he mutters a silent victory, fishing out a lighter.

“Quick, rip a seam off your shirt.” He’s already plucking dry branches off a plant to his left.

“What?”

“We need to make a fire.”

You tug uselessly on the flap of your shirt. “How is this going to help?”

Sully stares at you with wide eyes, his jaw clenched. “Fucking Christ,” he shoves a branch on your hands and grips your clothes. You gasp as he rips a good portion of your polo, leaving you in tattered cargo and an undershirt. “You won’t survive a day out here.”

You push the stupid branch back on his palms. “I wasn’t made to survive here, I’m a scientist. If I asked you what a Loreyu is, you wouldn’t know a single shit about it too.”

He ignores you. You watch as he ties the fabric on the end of the stick, dipping it on a curved leaf that has collected sap. He hands it to you before doing the same thing to his own piece of clothing and stick.

He flicks the lighter on and brings it to the saturated fabric. It catches fire immediately and you see a lot better now.

Another growl resonates, closer this time. Sully says nothing else as he grabs your wrist, torches in hand, and runs.

It seems all you’re meant to do this day is run and to be frank, you don’t think you have it in you to do so. Your legs give out as you reach a clearing, a pond shimmering in the night. It is a pain to admit but you’re thankful for Sully’s grip on you or else you would have dug your face on the forest floor.

“Shit, kid—”

“I’m alright,” you heave, dragging your feet so you’re kneeling. “I’m alright.”

Your reprieve is short-lived when something pounces behind you. You choke back a scream, ignoring the twitching pain on your ankle and scrambling to stand up. There’s a blur of black dancing in your peripheral and soon, there’s a whole pack of them surrounding you.

Jake Sully snarls, swishing his torch in a wide arc. You do the same, your back glued to his, your heart beating an erratic rhythm in your chest.

“Viperwolves,” you say.

“How do we kill it?”

“I don’t know!” You thrust your weapon forward as another one of them attempts to jump on you. “With a gun?”

“We don’t have a gun,” he grunts.

“As if I don—”

You scream as a Viperwolf pounces on you, sending you skittering away from your partner. Your torch is nowhere in sight and you’re far too panicked to think straight. Its large mouth is right at your face, sharp teeth inches away from your face.

This is it. Six years on this moon and you meet your fate like this. What a gruesome, sad ending. You don’t bother fighting, closing your eyes and flinching as it lets out a snarl before attacking you.

The pain never came.

You think you hear something, hear it whimper and the others scuttle off, but Jake Sully is already dragging you away.

There’s a ringing in your ears and his voice sounds so far away but your eyes are clear. You see him so vividly. Tommy.

“Hey, hey.” He makes a show of snapping his fingers to your left, to your right. “Talk to me, come on.”

It was the same thing he said when you almost drowned in a pool back on Earth. You were eight and stupid, taking a dip unsupervised, feeling like such an adult as you tried to imitate the others who were learning to swim as a part of their Avatar Training Program.

Tommy had found you nearly unconscious, calling and shouting for anyone as he rubbed and slapped at your back, throwing up water.

“Hey,” he had said, wiping away water on your face, “talk to me, come on.”

You had burst into tears right then, clinging to him and never letting go until you fell asleep. For a long time, he had been the only safe place you ever knew and seeing him in Jake Sully in the same situation makes your throat close up.

“M’fine,” you warble. You don’t see the woman who saved you speaking softly as she holds a palm to the Viperwolf that nearly bit your head off.

When you hear faint footsteps retreating, you think Jake Sully has left you out here, but he’s crouched over your form, looking over his shoulder.

He pushes you up despite your protests, shy of dragging you on the dirt by your arms. He’s got a hold on your wrist again, dragging you through the forest again. It is disorienting, all of it. From being chased by a Thanator, jumping off a cliff and nearly drowning, to being attacked by a Viperwolf — paired with your fatigued body, your knees rattle as you blindly follow Sully.

You hear him talking, a string of slurred words. The forest is melting, a spiral of blues and greens, until your vision vignettes and there’s nothing at all.

MORE NOTES when i said this was a slow burn, i wasn’t planning on this slow. but! our boy tsu’tey will finally show up in the next chapter. i’m just happy how we’ve slowly opened reader’s relationships with other characters, and here’s to unraveling them while building up new ones!

TAGLIST @cullenswife @hannibalelijah @neytemsgf @syviiss @katsukiswrld @lovekeeho

i want to see mama too⎥part two

you can read part one here and three here

→ summary: based off this request !! seven years ago, you had died alongside grace while trying to protect pandora. a few months after your death it was discovered that you were pregnant; leaving tsu'tey to raise your son vu'ran without you. but, things start to get strange when vu'ran is certain he saw you move.

pairing: tsu'tey x fem reader warnings: angst, blood, injury, nightmares, death, grief, swearing word count: 1.6k authors note: thank u so much for all the love on part one; i hope you enjoy part two !!

the rain came pouring down as you and tsu'tey danced together in the depths of the forest; your synchronised laughter echoing through the evening air as he twirled you under his arm. you danced around him as you gazed up, love glossing your yellow eyes. he brought your five fingered hand to his lips as he placed a gentle kiss to your knuckle.

but, the bliss did not last.

your eyes went dark as you clutched at your chest, gasping for air. you fell to your knees as tsu'tey desperately grabbed at you; crying out your name.

Keep reading

i want to see mama too⎥part one

you can read part two here and three here

→ summary: based off this request. seven years ago, you had died alongside grace while trying to protect pandora. a few months after your death it was discovered that you were pregnant; leaving tsu'tey to raise your son vu'ran without you. but, things start to get strange when vu'ran is certain he saw you move.

pairing: tsu'tey x fem reader warnings: grief, mention death, angsty word count: 1.3k authors note: finally getting around to this request !! so excited for this. this will more than likely be three parts

'hey, slow down!!' tsu'tey bellowed towards vu'ran and kiri as they ran as fast as their legs would take them through the forest. tsu'tey groaned as they completely ignored him before jake appeared by his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

'there is no controlling them.' jake laughed as tsu'tey let a rare smile tug at his lips.

seven years ago, you were fatally shot alongside grace by the sky people while you were still in your human body. jake brought you to tsu'tey; and the both of them begged mo'at to try and save your lives. grace had sadly passed before you; the transfer from her human body to her avatar body was unsuccessful. but tsu'tey truly thought that you were going to be okay. your eyes lit up like the morning sun; only to lose all their light moments later. truthfully, he lost a lot of his faith in that moment as he felt his heart shatter and his world crash around him.

but, eywa had blessed him with a gift.

a couple of months after your death, max and norm had called tsu'tey and jake to the lab. they had informed them that after a few routine inspections of yours and graces avatars; they had discovered that you were both pregnant. you were two months along and grace was three.

tsu'tey wept. he couldn't believe that there was going to be a child in this world that was half of him and half of you; the woman he loved with all of his being. he felt a newfound hope.

'i want to see mama!' vu'ran called out as he ran back towards tsu'tey with a smile on his face. tsu'tey smiled back at his son, ruffling his hair.

'i want to see mama too.' he whispered; longing to see your beautiful face.

when the four of them had reached the lab, vu'ran and kiri bolted towards their mothers in an instant.

'be careful!! wiya!' tsu'tey shouted towards them as they ran through the lab, almost knocking over some of the scientists.

'hah... sorry.' jake chuckled to the workers as they shook their head. vu'ran jumped up onto the incubator and his wild mood finally began to settle when he looked down to see your serene face.

'hi mama...' he trailed off, tracing his fingers along the glass. tsu'tey slowly made his way over, wanting to allow your son a moment alone with you. 'i went fishing today and i caught a huge red fish!' he exclaimed; holding his hands out to show you the size of it. 'you would have loved it. it was so pretty; like you. not that you look like a fish...' tsu'tey chuckled to himself, watching your son talk to you with such love and excitement, but he was soon pulled out of his trance when vu'ran began to wave him over. tsu'tey walked over, gazing down at your motionless body as he felt a wave of sadness drown him. as much as everyone told him that time will heal all wounds, nothing seemed to heal him of your absence. 'dad caught a big fish too.' vu'ran beamed as tsu'tey smiled, putting his large hand up to the glass.

'i did, yawne. it was just like the one you caught the first time i taught you to fish.' he smiled sadly at you. vu'ran excitedly jumped up and down as he remembered another story he wanted to share with you.

'and i finally hit the long range target in shooting practice today! dad said that i'm almost as good as you.' he smiled, proudly.

'almost.' tsu'tey echoed, his eyes never leaving your form. as lucky as he was to have his son; he couldn't help but wish you were there to share these moments with him. to have seen when vu'ran took his first steps, or when he said his first word. mama. he looked down at you once more; taking in your beautiful features. he sighed deeply before turning away and allowing your son to continue talking with you. he glanced to the other side of the lab where kiri was talking with grace.

two kind, young children who were both cursed with the fate of not knowing their wonderful mothers. jake was leaning against one of the lab tables; looking towards the children with a sorrowful look laced on his features. tsu'tey made his way over to him and settled by his side.

'it isn't fair.' jake spoke, catching tsu'tey off guard. 'they should be here. they didn't deserve this.'

over the years, jake and tsu'tey had grown extremely close. they were brothers. jake and neytiri had been lifelines to tsu'tey, helping him raise vu'ran while he was still grieving; helping him cope with his loss. tsu'tey put a hand on jakes shoulder and sent him a soft smile.

'it is not fair. but that is why we must live our lives to the fullest. we must live for the both of them.... for all of them.' tsu'tey spoke as jake nodded, looking towards kiri.

'you're right.' jake said. 'you're right.'

'dad!!' vu'ran screamed as tsu'teys ears perked up. vu'ran looked towards him with terrified eyes before tsu'tey bolted over to him; pulling him from the glass.

'what? what happened?' tsu'tey questioned, frantically checking over his son. vur'an pointed towards you.

'mama! she moved!' vu'ran cried out as tsu'tey froze dead in his tracks. he looked towards your body which was still as lifeless as ever.

'vu... mama can't move.' tsu'tey tried to explain to his son with a heavy heart. 'she may look like she is moving sometimes but that is because of this incubator here.' he said, tapping the glass. kiri and jake had now made their way over, looking intensely at you. vu'ran shook his head incessantly.

'no, dad! she moved; her eyes moved!' vu'ran cried out again; this time with more excitement in his voice than fear. but tsu'tey began to grow irritated.

'hey, max.' jake called out as the scientist came running over. jake moved himself so his back was facing the kids as he spoke quietly to him. 'she can't move... right?' jake questioned.

'well...' max started. 'sometimes there can be some involuntary movement because of the receptors... it's not out of the ordinary.' he reassured but tsu'tey felt a strange sense of disappointment in his heart. he shook his head and turned back to vu'ran.

'see vu? that's what made mama move.' he spoke, firmly.

'no, dad! she-'

'vu.' tsu'tey warned.

'her eyes mo-'

'ENOUGH!!' tsu'tey screamed as vu'ran looked back at him in shock. tsu'tey glanced between jake and kiri who both looked to the child with empathetic eyes. his bottom lip began to quiver as he hung his head.

'sorry dad...' he trailed off as he began to sniffle. tsu'tey felt guilt overcome him. there were many times where he himself had been sat next to you; convinced you that had moved. that you were just sleeping. he didn't want his son to hold onto that false hope too. tsu'tey crouched down to vu'rans height.

'no... i am sorry vu. i lost my temper.. i shouldn't have shouted.' he apologised, bringing his son in for a hug.

'it's okay dad.' vu'ran promised. he had definitely gotten your heart. tsu'tey pulled away and smiled towards his son.

'how about we go home and get some dinner and then... we can go for a fly on my ikran later?' tsu'tey proposed as vu'rans eyes shined bright.

'really?' vu'ran questioned as tsu'tey nodded.

'of course. and then, we can come and visit mama again tomorrow.' vu'ran nodded excitedly as tsu'tey ruffled his hair before bringing himself back to his feet. he turned to jake who sent him an empathetic look.

'we'll be back tomorrow, max.' jake announced as max nodded.

'don't worry. i'll do some checks on the incubator and i'll make sure that doesn't happen again.' he whispered to jake who sent him a thankful smile in return.

'come on, let's go.' jake roared as he grabbed kiri and swung her onto his back while she screamed and giggled.

tags: @atokirina-writings @23victoria @randxmthxughts @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed​ @taymaddie​ @aizawash0e​ @icarusthefoolish​ @blub-blub786​ @live-laugh-neteyam​ @jakesully-sbabygirl​ @sharkybabe9​ @neteyamslovrr @fanboyluvr​ @moonpie3000​ @s-surreality​ @tarrynightss​ @dreamsholdpowers​ @honeymilkshakesblog​ @brisasinthewind​ @bothofm​ @n7cje​ @kittycow8875​ @nilrilie​ @hislaevv​ @jakesullyfatjuicypeen​ @belos-simp69​ @bewbz2110​ @takeomisbitch​ @atwow69​ @pxrtalchopped​ @mechformers​ @ikranwings @cherridile @myvath

© avatarbyamara 2023 | all rights reserved. do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own.

so excited for pt 3!!!! i loved it

nina cried power |tsu'tey x reader|

part two of this

a/n: please forgive me lovelies :) i can't help but crave the chaos, currently working on the final part!

warnings: angst, cliff hangers, one singular cuss word

vocab ‘Itan: son - sa'nok: mother - syvue: food - tsngan: meat - tute: female - oel ngati kameie: i see you

Days. Weeks. Months. 

You no longer kept count, why should you when your heart has stopped beating the moment her hand touched his? Why should you be held responsible for keeping score of the days that had passed? Why was your heart the one to be consistently broken over Tsu’tey and Sylwanin?

You knew the blame you placed on him was not fair. It was not called for, yet that didn’t stop the anguish from rising in your chest every time you were a witness to their growing love. No matter how far you distanced yourself from the clan, there was always talk of their future Olo’eytukan and Tsahik. 

Everyone was waiting for the day the two of them were officially mated, the day the clan would welcome the new leaders. But you knew in your heart, you would run away before you ever had to see it come true. 

It was no surprise that you had changed dramatically since that night. You traded your bright beaded tops for dull feathered ones instead. No longer wishing to finally catch the eye of your oldest friend. 

But it seemed no matter how hard you tried to hide away, Tsu’tey always noticed you. He was no fool. He knew how hurt you had been, the look on your face so raw and full of anguish. No one could have missed you running away towards the woods. 

He himself would have been surprised if he hadn’t been told mere minutes before the announcements. It was a reminder that he could never fully choose his future. No part of him had ever craved to mate with Sylwanin, but every fiber of him ached to be with you. You who had stuck by his side through everything, through the fights with his family, his flight of passage, and every other challenging moment. You were a constant, you were his. 

————————————————————

“Ah, Y/N, he is staring at you again. You must put him out of his misery,” Ninat giggled, lowly gesturing to the group of warriors across the way. 

Eyes quickly darting upwards, your heart sank as you met the eyes of Orew. The slightest glimmer of hope, wishing your eyes met his. 

“Ninat! Do not spread rumors you baby! I know nothing of this misery you speak of! Orew is nothing but a skawang, a foolish boy,” you hissed, face heating as she just laughed harder at you. 

Bearing your teeth at your friend, you turned your attention towards the necklace you were making. Smiling downwards at the colorful gems you had spent weeks collecting in the forest. So absorbed in your work, you didn’t hear the footfalls behind you.

“That necklace is going to look beautiful on you,” a deep voice rumbled, spooking you from your inner thoughts. 

Quickly looking up, you met the sparkling eyes of Orew. Heart racing in your chest from being snuck up on, a polite smile gently finding home on your face. 

“Thank you Orew, it is quite pretty but it’s not for me. It’s for someone very special to me,” you answered sincerely, hoping he would just walk away. 

“Well they are very lucky. One could only be so lucky to wear something you’ve crafted for them. I hope to one day be so lucky,” he spoke confidently, before sending you a striking smile and heading back towards his friends. 

The moment his back was turned, Ninat tightly grabbed your arm and practically screamed, “He is so into you!” 

Rolling her eyes as you pushed her away, you were oblivious to the tall na’vi watching you closely from the treeline. 

—-------------------------------

One thing about the clan was that the minute a rumor was whispered, it spread like wildfire throughout the entire village. Whether it was true or not hardly mattered, as long as the members of the clan had something to keep their days interesting. 

So it was no surprise to you when a rumor that Sylwanin was choosing to mate with Ayawon started to make its way through the clan. It wasn’t the first rumor of its likeness to be passed around. From the moment she came of age, every elder sa’nok hoping the name of their ‘itan would stick. The Olo’eytukans family always fell unlucky to the gossiping of small minded na’vi. When you heard this rumor you couldn’t help the hollow laugh that escaped your throat. The harshness of it surprising even yourself. 

Deep down, you and everyone else knew that Sylwanin would never go against her fathers orders. She was promised to Tsu’tey and in order to be the next Tsahik, she would have to make tsaheylu with him. Why would she give up a lifetime of training for a mediocre warrior? When she had the finest warrior the clan had to offer and the future Olo’eytukan? She was no fool and knew the importance of the future of the clan. 

Pushing the rumor out of your mind, you continued on with your day. Spending much of the morning helping forage for herbs with the healers before heading back to the village for syvue. As you walked towards the large fire, whispers flowed throughout the clan already gathered. Grabbing a bowl of tsngan, you found a quiet spot to enjoy your meal. The comfort of the moment ruined when a voice bellowed, “YOU DID WHAT?”

Looking up from your bowl, your eyes widened at the scene unfolding in front of you. There before you stood Sylwanin. Hand in Hand with Ayawon, but further than that, they stood with their queues connected as the final sign of mating. Beyond her stood a furious Eytukan, glaring at his eldest daughter. 

Gasps rippled throughout the village as they watched with rapt attention. Rumors were one thing, but you could barely comprehend what was happening. 

“Ayawon and I have mated before Eywa. It is done,” Sylwanin spoke fiercely, never breaking eye contact with her father. 

“If you chose this Sylwanin, you can and will not be Tsahik,” Mo’at rushed out quickly, almost as if hoping her daughter would change her mind. 

“I have made up my mind. I choose him as my mate,” she replied strongly, turning to smile lovingly at her new mate. 

“Then that is how it should be. Sylwanin will no longer lead our clan as Tsahik. She has chosen,” Eytukan declared loudly, “Tsu’tey may choose my youngest Neytiri as his promised and keep his place as future Olo’eytukan or pick a mate of his choice and continue down his path as a warrior. Like Sylwanin, the choice is his.”

Your heart couldn’t take the implications of what just happened and you felt as though you would faint on the spot. Voices erupted from throughout the crowd as the other tute na’vi weighed the newest addition to the mating pool. Unable to stop yourself, your eyes scanned the crowd until they met the familiar yellow ones you adored. Tentatively Tsu’tey raised a hand in a small wave. To anyone else it was insignificant, miniscule in the grand scheme of things. But to you, it was a new beginning. 

It was Tsu’tey telling you Oel ngati kameie. 

You raised your hand to wave back and was on the verge of a genuine smile for the first time in months, when the ground shook and all hell broke loose. 

----------------------------------------------------

taglist: @fanboyluvr @daydreamer2k @fourcefulcupid @brooklynscherry-z @sovereignsylvia @n1ght5h4d3-24 @cupidddd-d @jojo-munson @saltedcoffeescotch @arsonfrogger @nicoletk

i loved thissss!!! i cried jSDFHDEfgr U DID GREAT :)) i'd love a part 2!!

the night we met |tsu'tey x reader|

what: after spending her growing years pining after the future Olo'eyktan, y/n tearfully recounts the moving moments throughout their ‘friendship’ as she hears of his promising to Sylwanin

warnings: all the angst- sorry besties, not canon compliant (kinda?),

words: 2k

what have you: heyo this is my first avatar fic and first actual written fic in quite some time! so if you like it please let me know! Thinking of doing a part two (possibly in his pov?)- let me know if you’re interested in that! thanks for reading :)

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met

Life with Tsu’tey by your side was nothing short of a dream. He was your longest friend and closest companion. It seemed as though from the moment you could walk, the two of you were joined at the hip. Always together, never far apart. This carried on well into your growing years, both of you nearing adulthood side by side. 

You weren’t sure when you started to notice Tsu’tey becoming a man before your very eyes. His shoulders broadened and he seemed to grow a foot overnight. The clan started to come to him for problems instead of his father and he solved them with a grace foreign to you. Tsu’tey was no longer that awkward boy you once knew, he was officially the future Olo'eyktan. Eytukan had chosen him officially before Eywa and the people. Soon enough he was off training in the ways of leading the clan.

This didn’t keep him from visiting you. He always held true to his promises of hunting with you or simply sitting aloft a tree talking well into the night. Tsu’tey always had time for you and you for him. You can’t exactly pinpoint the moment you started to fall for him, but you fell hard. The two of you would often speak candidly of your futures and on more than one occasion he had insisted that you would still be just as important as you were now. Those words lit a spark of hope in your heart that he would one day choose you as a mate. Although the odds were stacked against you from the start, the promise in his words kept you praying to Eywa that he would choose you. 

You heard the hunters before you saw them, screeching ikrans landing loudly in front of Hometree. As you watched Tsu’tey dismount his beautiful banshee with ease, celebrating with his fellow clan members. Celebrating the success of making it through his Dream Hunt. The beating of your heart increased as you watched your childhood friend. His proud smile radiating from across the camp

“If you stare any harder Y/N you’re going to set him on fire,” a voice startled you from behind. Slowly turning from your ‘hiding spot’, you came face to face with Arvok and his teasing smirk. 

“Oh shove off you skxawng! Leave me be for once!” you hissed. 

“Now is that how to address the brother of your best friend I’m wounded Y/N,” Arvok dramatically spoke, clutching his heart in faux hurt. 

“Grow up, you child! I am just watching them all return, not just him,” you defended meekly, hearing the lie as clearly as you spoke it.

“Ah, of course. May I tell Tsu’tey you are watching his hunters closely then? Maybe you are looking to mate with one of them?” he teased, before quickly stepping away when your tail smacked his leg. 

Rolling your eyes at the young na’vi, you pushed yourself off the tree that was previously hiding your form. Trust Arvok to catch you spying on his brother. A slight blush began to rise to your cheeks as you hurried out from the treeline. Walking towards the center of the clan, you heard talk of a celebration coming that evening. As you got closer to the fire, and to Tsu’tey, the former Olo'eyktan Eytukan called for everyone to join him. 

“My people! The time has come! Our Tsu’tey has passed his last rights, he is now one of the people, tonight we will celebrate!” he praised. The air was filled with shouts and cheering as the clan took in their future leader. The clan was proud of the man Tsu’tey had become, a fierce warrior and kind friend. 

Where you stood at the back of the pack you could hear a group of younger na’vi girls giggling while casting sly looks at Tsu’tey. Faintly you overhead one, Aythi asked, “Maybe he will choose a mate this night? Do you think he will mate with the future tsahìk? Sylwanin is quite lovely.” 

Your heart ached as you watched the group nod in agreement at the possible pairing. This was always the way. The Olo’eyktan mated with the Tsahik, but you held onto those promising words Tsu’tey had spoken moons ago. You would always be in his future. Slowly a kernel of doubt weaseled into your heart, what if he only meant that you would be there as you were there now? What if he only intended to keep you as his friend and nothing more? Rationally this was always a possibility but you thought you had more time before you had to think about it. 

Before you could sink further into your darkening thoughts, two strong hands clutched your shoulders and quickly spun you around. Plastering a smile on your face, you were graced with the golden eyes of your closest friend. Grabbing you by your waist, you soon found yourself being spun into a tight hug. A sincere laugh tumbling out of your mouth as you looked down at Tsu’teys happy smile.

“I did it, Ma’Y/N! I survived my dream hunt! All thanks to your guidance,” he cheered happily, oblivious to how your heart stuttered in your chest. 

Ma’Y/N. Ma’Y/N. Ma’Y/N.

He had never let that slip from his lips. Not in the 18 years you had known him, always careful with his words and how he addressed you. But you couldn’t stop the hope that squeezed your heart tightly. 

Pulling from his embrace, you fell into step with him as he talked quickly of his experience. 

“It was amazing! The glow warm tasted odd but after I felt like I was floating on air. I could not tell where I ended and Eywa started. It was surreal, Y/N. I can not wait for you to experience it!” he spoke enthusiastically, hands waving to accentuate his point. 

“I’m so happy for you ‘Tey! For you are now our fiercest warrior and we will celebrate that at eclipse! You are one step closer to your bright future my friend,” you responding happily. 

The conversation flowed easily as the two of you discussed the coming events and soon enough you were at your families section of hammocks. After a brief goodbye, you waved gently to Tsu’tey as you headed towards the vines that served as an entrance to your home. Just as you reached the greenery, a voice called to you, “Wear the dark blue beaded top for me? It is my favorite on you Ma’Y/N.” 

The answering smile you sent him almost spilled your feelings to you. Glee spread throughout your body and you were all too eager to appease his wishes. He had never been one to compliment anything about you, besides your hunting skills and finding out he had a favorite item of yours? That was almost too much for your delicate heart to handle. 

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

You were never one to fret about your appearance, but something urged you to look your best tonight. For all you knew it could be the start of your future, so you took your time in getting ready. The taut braids that normally fell along your shoulders were undone, leaving your hair falling in soft waves along your back. You also took great care in arranging the dark blue beaded top, being extra mindful that it fell across your chest in the most tasteful way. By the time you had arrived at the celebration that evening it was in full swing. The fire was raging and the delicious smell of today's kill blanketed the area. You knew you hadn’t missed anything important when you scanned the area and noted that Tsu’tey was not yet there. 

Walking towards the fire, you watched as mated couples danced together to the loud music of the drums. The longing look in your eyes is noticeable by anyone who actually cared to look. Luckily for you, no one usually spared you much of a glance. Quickly eating a bowl of meat, the crowd hushed. Following the clans line of sight, your breath catching in your chest. 

There he was, in all of his magnificent beauty. Tsu’tey stood tall and proud as he walked towards the clan, head held high. With bright yellow and navy paint marking his body, he looked confident as he walked towards his fate, his future. Studying the markings, your heart beating faster as you took in the color that matched the top he requested. 

Surely this was a sign that he was going to choose you, this must be a sign from Eywa that you two would be mated. Why else would he ask you to match him? He is allowed to choose his colors and he picks the color of your beads. Heart hammering against your ribcage, you pushed yourself closer to the base of Hometree eagerly. You wanted to be the first to grab him once he had been announced. 

You watched him walk up the thickest root before taking his place beside Eytukan and Mo’at. He looked the picture of the perfect warrior, the perfect Olo’eyktan. The clan quieted down as Eytukan cleared his throat while approaching the crowd. 

“My friends, let us gather this eve to celebrate the fierce warrior Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyitan. As he has completed his final rite of passage, the Dream Hunt. You are Omaticaya now. You may make your bow from the wood of Hometree. You have shown great courage and strength to our people. It is decided that our future Olo’eyktan will be mated with my Sylwanin, our future Tsahik. Before Eywa they will be chosen as our clan's future! Let us celebrate for both occasions this eve!” he bellows, chants erupting from the crowd. 

Shouts of happiness and congrats emerge from the clan behind you. But you find yourself rooted to the spot and as you find Tsu’teys eyes, it feels as though Eywa herself is rooted to the spot. You’re not sure what you expected his face to show, but happiness wasn’t it. The despair in your heart as Sylwanin grabs his hand is almost too much to bear. The action that finally cleaves your heart in two, is when you notice the colors of her beaded top- yellow and navy. She was marked as his before you ever even knew.

Tears gathered along your waterline as you pushed yourself through the crowd. As you neared the forest edge, you were almost sure someone called your name but the ache in your heart wouldn’t allow you to turn around. Deep down you knew who it was and you knew if you faced him right now it would utterly ruin you. 

As you laid in your hammock with the distant sound of music, you allowed the tears to fall freely. It was almost as if you could audibly feel your heart breaking in half. The one you loved was promised to another, promised to the one clan member who he should belong to. You knew now that you would have no place in his future, promised words no longer held meaning here. At least not in the way you believed they would. No, you would live your future with no more than passing hellos and seeing his family grow. You’ll spend your days as a ghost of his past. 

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

REALLLL

thinking about

Of Duty and Desire | Chapter 3 | Neteyam x Metkayina!reader

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 1       Chapter 2

“That wasn’t fair!”

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. “It is not my fault you took the long way,” you told him with a smug grin. He huffed at you. “Only because I didn’t know there was a short way,” 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

I LOVE THIS SM AJSDHFASJDFG

Of Duty and Desire | Chapter 2 | Neteyam x Metkayina!reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the love I got on the first part 🥰 and thank you for your patience waiting for this one. I hope y’all enjoy it, and while you’re waiting for the next part, allow me to shamelessly plug my other finished fic here.

5.2k words, which in the words of my roommate @britany1997 “you write long ass fics.” (I know, Brit, I know)

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

It had now been over a year since the Sullys' arrival in the reef, and you couldn't imagine your life without them anymore. Tuk was as good at diving as any Metkayina child her age. You and Lo'ak bonded over your ongoing friendly competition over who was the better ilu rider (you were, but he was getting better everyday). Kiri had truly blossomed in the reef, and nobody treated her differently anymore.

But out of the four of them, Neteyam was the one you felt closest to. Even though you enjoyed laughing and joking together, you both understood what it meant to have a responsibility to your clan, a sense of duty to your people. It was a shared experience that was part of the reason you had become friends so quickly. When you would feel overwhelmed or frustrated by the high expectations of your parents or Ronal, he was always there to listen and cheer you up.

On warmer nights, when you felt stressed, you would sneak out to enjoy the peace of the water on the beach alone. You spent so much of your day busy with things to do that you felt as though you rarely had a moment of peace with yourself.

On one such night, you walked along the edge of the beach before settling down in the sand, the waves of the water gently lapping at your feet. The night air was warm, and you lay back on the sand to look up at the stars. You stayed like that for some time before the sound of crunching sand behind you broke the peaceful silence.

You sat up quickly in alarm and found that it was Neteyam walking along the beach. He seemed just as surprised at finding you there on the beach by yourself. "You startled me," you told him as he drew near. "And you startled me," he countered. "I didn't think I would find anyone out so late." You hummed and explained, "I couldn't sleep." He sat down in the sand next to you. "Nor could I," he replied. "Do you often come out at night?"

You shrugged and leaned back on your hands. "Sometimes," you admitted. "I enjoy looking at the stars." Neteyam looked up at the clear night sky. He searched for a while before a slow smile appeared on his face. "Do you see that one there?" He asked, pointing at a star. You looked after him, but you weren't sure which he was referring to. "Which one?" You questioned.

He moved in close next to you, bringing his face right up next to yours. His shoulder leaned against yours as he lifted a hand to point at the sky. "There," he said softly as he pointed at a star flickering above. "The yellowish one." You stared up at where he pointed and noticed the yellow star he was referring to. "I see it," you said quietly with a small smile.

You turned your head to look at him, and you suddenly became aware of how close he was to you. Neteyam seemed to have the same realization because he pulled away gently and looked away self-consciously. "My father came from there," he explained as he looked back at the sky. "That very star."

You looked back up at the flickering light in amazement. "That is incredible," you whispered. "Your father is legendary amongst the Na'vi." He shrugged nonchalantly. "It is hard to see him as such when I have seen him embarrass himself countless times," he told you with a wry grin.

You suppressed a laugh. "I suppose to you, he is just your father," you mused. He smiled down at you. "Everyone sees him as this fearless leader," he explained, and his voice suddenly became very somber. "But I know what really scares him." You watched him expectantly, trying to think of all the great beasts that could inspire fear in such a renowned warrior. Then, with a sly smirk, he leaned in close and whispered, "My mother."

That time, he actually did make you laugh. "Tonowari is the same," you told him, and Neteyam nodded emphatically. "That is understandable. Ronal is very formidable," he said. You shrugged your shoulders casually. "She's not so bad," you defended. Your mother was a lifelong friend of the tsahik, and you had become very familiar with Ronal and developed a better understanding of her strict demeanor during your time as her apprentice.

Neteyam shot you a disbelieving look. You sighed before admitting, "She is formidable, yes, but she is very loyal and fiercely protective." You sifted the sand between your fingers and looked up at him with a smirk. "But I see how she can be scary. Even Tonowari thinks so."

Neteyam chuckled at you. "Something about the role of Olo'eyktan seems to attract fearsome mates," he observed humorously. You hummed in amusement. "I hope I will inspire the same fear in Aonung one day," you joked.

You weren't quite sure what it was, but you sensed a slight shift in Neteyam's demeanor. It was the prolonged silence between your statement and his reply, almost as if you had unwittingly said the wrong thing. You looked over at him, but when he glanced back, he offered a faint smile. "Perhaps you will," he said finally. "But for now, I have to admit, you don't seem very intimidating."

You scoffed lightheartedly and tossed some sand at him. "How dare you," you told him with false offense. "I will be even more fearsome than Ronal and your mother combined." He chuckled at your theatrics and brushed the sand off of his arm. "If that is true, then you will be like a palulukan," he stated.

You tilted your head at him in confusion. "A palulukan?" you echoed questioningly. Neteyam seemed to remember that the fierce, feline creature he spoke of did not live around the reef, and therefore you had no knowledge of it. "Palulukan, the bringer of fear," he explained. "They are large, dangerous predators in the forest. There is nothing they are afraid of, and there is nothing that is not afraid of them."

You smiled thoughtfully at his words. "That does sound fearsome," you conceded. "And I thought the ikran were intimidating." Neteyam huffed in amusement. "They certainly can be," he agreed. "But they are excellent companions when they're bonded." You hummed in consideration and replied, "That doesn't make them any less intimidating."

Neteyam was staring at you with a thoughtful face, a slow smile forming on his face. "Would you like to see them?" He asked mischievously. You looked over at him quizzically. "Right now?" You clarified. He shrugged, his lips still turned up in a grin. "Sure," he replied. "But we don't have to if you'd rather not."

You felt your own lips twist into a smile. You had wanted to see the great beasts the Sullys flew up close since they first arrived, but for some reason, you had felt a little awkward about asking them. Now, you finally had an invitation to go.

"I would love to see them," you told Neteyam sincerely. He stood up eagerly and held his hand out to you. You took it, and the two of you headed over to where they kept their ikran. The great, flying creatures preferred to stay up on the rocky precipices above the water, so the two of you had to walk quite a distance, but neither of you minded when you were in each other's company.

When you made it to the base of the cliff, Neteyam made a strange calling sound that carried up the side of the rock. After a moment, you saw the silhouette of his ikran glide over the edge of the cliff and settle down in front of you. You couldn't help but laugh in amazement as Neteyam stepped forward to greet his ikran.

"Do not look at his eyes," he warned as you approached carefully. You averted your gaze obediently and instead focused on the size of its powerful wings. "He is beautiful," you told him earnestly. "You chose well."

He chuckled as he stroked his ikran's neck. "He chose me," he corrected you. "Ikran are not like ilu or skimwings. They only bond with one rider. It is one of the trials of the Omatikaya." You listened attentively as you wandered around the ikran in admiration. "It must be very difficult," you noted as his ikran rustled its wings a few times. He huffed in amusement and muttered, "Very."

You wanted to touch the ikran, but you hesitated, not wanting to agitate it by accident. As though he could read your mind, Neteyam offered you a reassuring smile. "You can touch him," he told you. Giving him a quick glance, you carefully reached out and brushed your hand along its leathery skin.

His ikran snapped its head to look at you, causing you to jerk your hand back quickly. Neteyam chuckled at your reaction. Coming up behind you, he placed his hand on the back of yours and brought it back up to the body of his ikran, guiding your hand over its smooth, green skin.

You gave a small laugh of amazement. Under your palm, you could feel its tense muscles around its wings. "He is very strong," you observed. Neteyam hummed quietly in response right beside ear.

You turned your head to face him better. Even in the dim light, you could make out every detail of his face, the pattern of the stars on his face and his amber eyes that seemed to glow. In the silence between you, he seemed to be studying your face as well, his eyes flicking back and forth between your own.

Neteyam seemed to pull himself out if his thoughts. He withdrew his hand from yours and stepped back to stroke the head if his ikran. You ran your hand over the leathery wings as you took a moment to shake yourself out of your thoughts as well.

"It was a startling sight when your family first arrived," you said, finally breaking the silence. "Few of us had ever seen Na'vi fly in the sky." He smiled over at you thoughtfully. "Would you like to fly?" He asked, his corners of his lips turned upwards playfully.

You turned to him in surprise. "Are you being serious?" You questioned skeptically. He shrugged. "If you'd like," he replied simply. "We already came all the way out here." You looked back at the powerful creature beneath your palm, and you couldn't deny the excitement you felt at his proposal.

"Are you sure?" You asked nervously. "Is it safe?" Neteyam's face softened as he smiled at you. "I will keep you safe," he assured you. "I promise."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and looking up in his face, you knew he would keep his word. "Okay," you said softly, then added playfully, "but you better not let me fall." He laughed at you. "I won't," he promised.

Attaching his queue to his ikran, Neteyam hoisted himself up on its back. He held out his hand to you, and after a brief hesitation, you took it. He pulled you up to sit on the space behind him. Since there was no saddle to sit on, you drew yourself close to Neteyam's back.

"The takeoff will be the worst part," he warned over his shoulder. "Just hold on to me, I won't let you fall." You wrapped your arms around his torso and replied softly, "Okay." The ikran crawled away to the edge of the cliff. "Ready?" Neteyam asked, and you could tell by his voice that he was smiling. Wrapping your arms tighter, you replied, "Ready."

His ikran lurched upwards and quickly began beating its wings. The sudden movement made you gasp and squeeze Neteyam's torso even tighter. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were almost starting to regret agreeing to this, but almost as quickly as it started, the frantic flapping stopped.

The wind was rushing through your hair as you glided gently through the air. The wings of the ikran moved gently to maintain its height, but it was not as hard or as fast as when it left the ground. After the startling takeoff, you couldn't help but laugh in giddy delight over the thrilling feeling of being in the air.

Neteyam cast a quick look over his shoulder at you and returned your wide smile. He held your thigh securely as his ikran turned right over the water. You could see the reflections of the stars above you in the water below. Neteyam brought his ikran just above the surface of the water, its wings barely skimming the top.

You marveled at the feeling of flying. The warm air felt cool as it rushed around you. The world seemed to be moving slowly around you. You felt your stomach flutter as you swooped upwards, and you began climbing through the air again.

"This is incredible!" You shouted over the sound of the wind. Neteyam laughed in response. "Not like an ilu, right?" he called out. You laughed too before replying, "Not at all."

You continued rising through the air steadily, and when you leveled out, you gasped at the sight below you. Everything was so beautiful. The bioluminescent plants below lit up the village, and the sea was sparkling with the light of the stars.

You leaned your cheek against Neteyam's back as you took in the image of everything under you. It was so incredible that, for a moment, you thought that maybe you were dreaming, but you knew this couldn't be the case. You never could have come up with this feeling in your sleep, and the rushing air around you and the warmth of Neteyam's body against yours was too real to be a dream.

You weren't sure how long you were both in the air, but it didn't feel like long enough. Eventually, Neteyam had his ikran settle down on the beach right at the edge of the village before he leapt down off its back. He took you by the hand and helped you dismount easily.

"That was exhilarating!" You gushed in excitement. He grinned at you and admitted, "I was worried you were going to back out last minute." You pushed him playfully. "Not me," You laughed. "I wasn't going to miss out on being the first of the Metkayina to fly!"

He chuckled at your giddy bravado. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said. "It's easy for me to take flying for granted." You shook your head in amazement and sighed. "Thank you," you told him, staring up at him earnestly. "It was very generous of you to take me." He had a soft smile as he gazed down at you. "It was nothing," he replied gently. "If you ever want to go again, just ask." You grinned and nodded. "I'd like that," you said softly.

A brief silence settled over the two of you as you looked up into his face. In the same way as earlier that night, you found yourself studying his face again. His smile was contagious, and the way his eyes looked down at you so softly made your face grow warm.

After a moment, Neteyam sighed reluctantly. "It is getting late," he mentioned. "I think it would be best for us to go home." You closed your eyes and sighed as well. You knew that he was right and that you should do the same.

He gave his ikran an affectionate pat before disconnecting his queue. His ikran took to the skies, blowing the sand as he flapped away. You both watched for a moment before turning back to the village.

Neteyam walked quietly back with you to your home, careful not to disturb anyone around. When you arrived, you turned back to face him. "I will see you tomorrow," he whispered softly. You couldn't suppress the smile on your face as you responded, "I will see you then."

You watched for a moment as he walked away, still wearing a faint smile on your face. As you settled into bed, you replayed the night in your head. You could still feel the rush of wind on your face, the warmth of his body against your own, and you could hear his laugh ringing through your head.

You stared at the canopy above you for a long time, growing more and more perplexed. Neteyam was a close friend, and you had always thought he was kind and intelligent, but now, your thoughts were wandering back to the feeling of your face resting against his back, his steadying grip on your thigh as you swooped over the water, and the way he looked at you in the silent moments between laughs.

What perplexed you was that you found yourself missing his touch, missing his presence. You wanted to hear more stories about the forest and to see his face light up as he told them. You wanted to hold him close again as you flew into the late night sky.

Worst of all, you felt a faint, dangerous desire growing in you hoping that he felt the same way.

A welcome distraction came the following week after your late-night adventure with Neteyam. With the water growing warmer again, you and your clan were overjoyed to welcome the return of the tulkun. Along with the rest of the Metkayina, the day that they returned, you spent hours in the water with your spirit sister, Tanati. She was a talented storyteller, and she regaled you with her adventures away from the reef.

Every year with the return of the tulkun, the Metkayina held a great feast at night. All along the beach, there were several fires lit. A great supply of food was provided, and the night was to be filled with music and dancing. Everybody dressed in their finest clothing, and you even changed your hairstyle for the occasion.

This was your favorite time of the year. The whole clan was buzzing with excitement as they prepared for the feast. Being reconnected with Tanati brought you so much joy, and the happiness of the rest of the clan made it all the sweeter.

You sat with Tonowari's family as you all began eating. A wide variety of fish and vegetables as well as sweet nectar from the tropical plants on shore were all distributed among the people. You laughed with the Sully children, Tsireya, and other friends as you ate in the diminishing light of the evening.

After a short interlude of time to eat, Tonowari stood up, drawing the attention of the rest of the clan. "Tonight," he called out loudly for everyone to hear, "we celebrate the return of our tulkun brothers and sisters!" Cheers rose up from the masses. As they died away, he continued, "We are reminded of the cycle of life, and we celebrate new life as well as the lives of those who have gone on to be with our Great Mother."

There was a brief silence as everyone reflected on his words. Both the Na'vi and the tulkun had celebrated the births of children as well as mourned the deaths of loved ones in the community that year, but it was important that the balance of life be honored and celebrated, especially on a night like this.

"Now," Tonowari said, "let us sing and dance in celebration to honor our tulkun family." More cheers rose up from the people, and soon after, drums began pounding in the open air.

As the music began, you perked up. The opening song was an easy dance for everyone to join. You grabbed Neteyam's arm in excitement. "You must join us!" You said eagerly, pulling him gently as you stood up. He let out a small laugh and shook his head. "I don't know these dances," he pointed out, resisting your pulling.

You gave an imploring smile. "This is easy!" you explained. "Just watch." He didn't budge, but he looked up at you with a playful grin. "I will watch," he agreed before adding, "from here." People were already lining up to begin the dance, and since you didn't want to miss out, you dropped his arm with an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes with a smile.

Before leaving, you held a hand out to Kiri. "Join me," you offered her pleadingly. After a brief hesitation, she grabbed your hand and skipped across the sand to join in the dance. As you all began moving, you demonstrated the fluid motion of the dance to her, your arms moving around you and your body rocking in a motion that imitated the pull of the sea waves.

As you danced, you didn't see the Omatikayan boy staring at you. He had a soft smile on his face as he watched you dancing with his sister, admiring your graceful movements in time with the drums. He almost regretted not following after you to dance, but he enjoyed a better view from where he was sitting. While watching you, he didn't notice his mother's discerning gaze watching him instead.

As the night wore on, the dancing continued. You hardly stopped, only taking the occasional break to catch your breath. Neteyam's eyes always followed you as you dance. You were practically glowing as you moved, and he marveled at how you looked in the flickering light of the fires adorned in your pretty accessories with your new hairstyle.

At one point, Aonung took you to dance. The two of you were facing across from each other in a line. Neteyam stared hard as the two of you mirrored each other's movements in time with the music. You were beaming as you twirled in the sand, and Aonung seemed to reflect your delight. Neteyam watched you dance with him for entire song, unable to tear his eyes away from you, and Neytiri didn't miss it.

Later on, you sat out a song to catch your breath. You wandered over to where the Sullys sat. Tsireya was already seated next to Lo'ak and was explaining the significance of the moves to him. You sat down beside her, breathing heavily from all of your dancing in the sand.

Neteyam moved to sit on the other side of you. "You have not danced once," you scolded him playfully. "Even Lo'ak joined in." It was true. Tsireya had actually managed to convince him to join her in the sand, though he moved awkwardly as he tried imitating the motion of the dance.

"Believe me," he said, "watching that from here was much more enjoyable than joining in." You laughed at his words. "At least he's joining in the celebration," you retorted playfully. Neteyam didn't respond, he just smiled at your joking attitude.

The dance ended, and the participants and onlookers alike laughed and cheered. After a brief respite, the musicians began a new song. You nudged Neteyam's arm gently. "The night is nearly over," you said. "This is your last chance."

He looked at you, and you saw a slow smile spread across his face. Without saying a word, he held his hand out to you. You beamed and took it immediately. Standing up together, you headed over to where the line was forming. "I still don't know the dance," he told you with a grin. You laughed and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go to move across from him. "Just copy what I do," you said.

This particular song was slower, and so it was easier for him to follow along. With every step, every turn, and every move, his eyes stayed intently focused on you. He mirrored your movement almost perfectly, and you smiled as you drew close together. In the dim evening light, his face was illuminated by the fires around you, and his normally yellowish eyes were almost a flame-colored orange

The same flustered feeling you had felt the previous week began fluttering in your chest. Your movements were automatic as you became transfixed on Neteyam. He seemed to be a faster learner than Lo'ak when it came to dancing because his movements were fluid and almost perfectly in time with yours. Watching him perform the Metkayina dances so well made you beam with pride, and you felt as though nobody else was present but the two of you.

The whole time, Neteyam's enchanting smile never wavered, and you hardly realized when the dance had ended. The two of you stood in the sand for a few moments, slightly winded and grinning widely. The sight of the other dancers walking away from the open dancing space pulled you out of your daze finally, and together, you and Neteyam headed back to where his family was sitting and his mother was watching closely.

You sighed happily as you plopped down in the sand besides Tsireya. She nudged you playfully, and you nudged her back with a grin. On your other side, Neteyam sat down with a quiet grunt. "I thought you said it was my last chance," he said cheekily, nodding at the next round of dancers lining up in the sand.

"This dance is for mated couples only," you explained. "It will be over soon. Then, we will sing together before the celebration is finished." He nodded his understanding at you, his eyes fixated on the dancing couples on the sand.

"This is a wonderful tradition," he said earnestly. "I only watched from a distance last year." You followed where his eyes were fixed on the moving figures. "It is one of my favorite nights of the year," you admitted with a sight of contentment. He glanced back at you with a soft smile and said, "I understand why."

The dancing came to an end at that moment, and all of the couples returned to where their groups were seated. Ronal stepped up at the center of the beach with all eyes on her expectantly. After a few moments of quiet, she opened her mouth and sang the opening verse to the Song of Thankfulness.

As her clear, melodic voice rang out, you and the other women joined in the song, repeating the same line. Eventually, the deeper voices of the men joined in the song. There were no instruments used, it was all just a chorus of voices that carried across the beach. You closed your eyes and lifted your face to the stars as you sang, absorbing the moment of peace and happiness with your people.

As the song came to an end, you opened your eyes reluctantly, not wanting the night to end. From the corner of your eye, you could see Neteyam watching you, but when you turned to look at him, his gaze quickly darted away. From your other side, Tsireya moved to stand, and you knew it was time for everyone to retreat back to their homes.

"Good night," you told Neteyam quietly as you began to stand up. He quickly jumped up from his sitting position and offered his hand to you. With a soft smile, you accepted it, and he pulled you up gently from the sand. As you stood up, he held onto your hand for a beat and gazed down at you, the dying fire casting flickering shadows across his face. "Good night," he said finally and let go of your hand.

You missed the feeling of his touch immediately, and you were grateful that it was too dark for him to see your face blushing. You managed to pull your attention away Neteyam and turned to the rest of his family. Lo'ak and Kiri were also standing to their feet to go home. Tuk had fallen asleep long ago and was being carried by her father while Neytiri watched closely as you turned away from Neteyam.

"Good night," you told them with a polite nod. The weariness of dancing was finally affecting you, and you were eager to fall asleep. They all bid you goodnight in return, and you turned and walked back to where your family was waiting.

The Sullys headed back to their own place. After all of their children were tucked away to sleep, Neytiri gave her mate a squeeze on the shoulder and motioned with her head to the entrance of their tent. Understanding her silent request, Jake followed her outside.

Outside of their tent, Neytiri turned to face him. "You need to speak to your son before he does something stupid," she whispered to him in English in case any of the Metkayina were nearby. Jake raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You're gonna have to be more specific," he responded quietly. Neytiri made a disapproving face. "Your eldest," she clarified. "He has grown very fond of the tsakarem girl."

Jake let out a little sigh. He had noticed his son's affection for you as well, but he hadn't really considered it particularly urgent. "What do you want me to do?" He asked. Neytiri stepped closer to him and spoke in a low voice. "He needs to—" she paused to find the right word in English. "He needs to separate from her."

Jake gave her an uncomfortable look. He knew that you had been very kind to all of his children, and he didn't like the idea of pushing you away from his family. Neytiri caught the meaning in his face and turned away from him in mild exasperation. "She is tsakarem," she whispered insistently. "She is spoken for. This can only end badly."

After a moment, Jake's lips pulled upwards in a sly grin. He hummed thoughtfully and walked up behind his mate, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her against his chest. "I think I've heard this story before," he whispered teasingly in her ear. "A young warrior from a strange land being welcomed into a new life, learning new customs, meeting a pretty tsakarem who is spoken for."

Despite herself, Neytiri began smiling softly as Jake nuzzled her cheek affectionately. "In fact, I remember falling in love with you on a night like tonight," he said gently. "It didn't turn out so bad for us, did it?"

She sighed reluctantly. "This is different," she insisted quietly. Jake gave a light chuckle. "How?" He questioned. Neytiri opened her mouth to answer, but she found that anything she could say about her son was almost identical to the situation she had lived through herself, and for the first time, she could truly understand the headache she probably gave her parents all those years ago.

"We are here under uturu," she said finally. "If something happens, they can revoke their shelter, and we will all be in danger again." Jake sighed, knowing that she was right. "I will speak to him," he conceded quietly.

Neytiri nodded without reply. After a moment, she muttered, "He gets it from you. You are a bad influence." Jake chuckled again. "Charm and good looks are the Sully curse," he said as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Neytiri's mouth twisted in a grin at his words. They both stood there for a while with Jake holding her from behind. Even though they didn't say it, they were both reflecting on the beginning of their relationship, him being a strange foreigner and her being betrothed to another man.

Despite the fact that he was going to try to discourage Neteyam from being with you, Jake couldn't help but feel that if his son was anything like him, he wasn't going to listen.

Chapter 3

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