𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐅 𝐄𝐑𝐀

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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𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

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

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

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

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why-”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry! Merlin, I-”

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

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

“What the-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I shouldn’t have said that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?” He quipped.

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

“Pansy and her friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“I’ll miss my Herbology exam.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you find the closet comfortable then?”

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

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

“So, um, Herbology then, yes?”

“What about it?”

“Is that your favourite subject?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Same place, same time, next week?” 

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

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

© 𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘀

EXACTLY!!!! i absolutely love how you said this

nah since marvel is trending again I’m going to say it again louder for the people in back — canon steve rogers would never have chosen an “idyllic 1950s white pickett fence life” because the only place that man belonged was a picket LINE. the whole point of his character was that his work was never done. there was always going to be another oppressor, another bully, another person who takes advantage of the underprivileged for him to stand up to. from the moment he gained consciousness he, a chronically ill son of a working class mother living below the poverty line, used his voice and his body to protect & fight for what he believed in. I’m not sure there was ever a time pre-super soldier serum where he didn’t have a black eye. he could put the shield down all he wanted but he could never retire from being steve rogers — someone who never once turned a blind eye, who never once wanted a “reward” for his work, who never once abandoned his friends. this isn’t up for debate. this is almost a century of comic book & film/animated precedent. he may have been a man out of time, but in his words “it’s tempting to want to live in the past. it’s familiar, it’s comfortable. but it’s where fossils come from”

She’s a 10 but is in love with fictional military pilots.

She = me 💯

LOVE LOVE LOVE IM SO EXCITED FOR PART 2!!!!

➶ ambivalent — series ; chapter i

➴ neteyam x human!reader — “we are mated for life”

“What is necessary to change a person is to change his awareness of himself.” - Abraham Maslow

synopsis: neteyam doesn’t know what’s worse. possibly having you as a mate or being in an arranged mating with a feisty woman that’s already laid claim to him. he finds a little irony in the fact that he never planned on taking a mate at all, but now he’s got two. he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, unsure of where to go from here but secretly finds a bit of solace with you.

genre: slowburn, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, 18+

tags/warnings: some sexual themes, this is a little more angsty this time, neteyam is going through it in this chapter so beware of a (lot) little horniness but also him dealing with his conflicting emotions as usual, slight kanu appearance (he’s as flirty as ever but will come off a tad bit distant – for good reason), some touchy ‘teyam, neytiri losing her shit (insert jake, the mediator) and the “only one bed” trope (its so cute until neteyam starts thinking a little too much about it and gets a little…excited)

word count: 21k (trust me, it’ll go by quicker than you think lol)

↳ notes: it feels like i haven’t posted in a month when in reality, it’s only been a few days 🤦🏽‍♀️ i swear, sometimes my perception of time is so off it’s not even funny but anywho! finally giving you all the first chapter, which is so exciting bc this is going to set the stage for the chapters to come ! there will be lots of questions, old and new, and i hope to answer most of them in the next two chapters so bare with me ;)) i have pretty much set myself up for a chapter a week, and since they’ll be fairly long, it should hold you guys until the next update. some won’t be as long as 20k+ but just know that i was insanely excited to get this out and made sure to include everything necessary to officially start the story so happy reading!<3

↳ need to know info: i’ve decided to change the na’vi speaking to where it will only be in italics when they are speaking it around her, otherwise it’ll be presented in normal text. they will also be speaking in na’vi throughout the entire story unless said otherwise, which will be made very obvious, dw hehe

↳ p.s. proofread by me, so pretend you don’t see any grammatical errors or anything shsj

ꕥ okok, enjoy n pls like/reblog! it is much, much appreciated, ty ꕥ

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“Again.”

The young warrior closed his eyes to gather himself before exhaling a breath. How long had he been at this again? Since dawn? No, he’d had breakfast. He was sure of it. Maybe it was sometime early in the afternoon that he was pulled off to the training grounds to practice. It felt like he’d been practicing for ages. 

Sunlight could only be blocked out by the trees for so long until it was forced to break through the dense branches and leaves, throwing shadows across his damp skin appearing drenched with sweat. He longed for a well deserved break, but neither he nor his father would allow it. He had to shoot a perfect shot or he wasn’t going anywhere.

When the air was thick enough with tension and determination, he reached back and grabbed another arrow from the quiver against his back. Once the arrow was fitted to the string, he rested the shaft against the bow, and took in a slow breath.

“That’s it. Slow, and steady,” he heard his father say a few feet away.

The warrior visualized his intended target, a big tree just a few yards away. He’d done this numerous times. 

Despite being among the finest of the bunch, he had some anxiety that he may miss. The fact that people were looking at him might have played a role. He was expected to perform at his absolute best because Neteyam didn’t miss. Ever. He was perfect with a bow. A perfect leader in the making. His father had likely said this to comfort him as he had just missed a shot, owing the mishap to anxiety, but it didn’t work. He was furious with himself. He felt angry because he was better than this. Much better. In fact, perfection didn’t exist until he was born. Up until he gave it breath and birthed it from his bare hands. All of his hard work earned him that. Except, for some reason, he couldn’t get himself to focus when he needed to the most. Because of how irresponsible he had been earlier, his mind was wayward. He was obviously still angry with himself for not paying attention earlier, which led to him squandering his shot. 

He frowned, staring down the mark his first arrowhead made in the tree. It chipped the side, nowhere close to the middle where he’d aimed for. There was no more room for error. He had to get this right. 

He had to.

“Anytime you’re ready, son.”

Neteyam was determined to show his dad that he could do this. That he could become olo’eyktan someday, and protect the people just as successfully as his dad had back when he’d gone to war with the sky people. He had the potential; he knew it. He couldn’t let his old man down. 

He drew in another long breath, then held it as he steadied his hand, pinpointing exactly where he wanted to shoot.

This time he wasn’t going to miss.

He pulled back the string while oblivious to the sharp pain that shot through his raw fingertips, and when he was thoroughly confident, he let the arrow fly. It cut through the air and curved with the breeze. He watched it and waited while remaining as motionless and as stiff as a statue. 

It’s perfect, he told himself, It’ll make it.

He inhaled just before it thwacked into the tree, right in the center of it. The bow dropped carelessly to the ground as he knelt forward to rest his hands against his knees, struggling to get his breathing back under control. It seemed as though his body had released all the tension it had been holding. He felt like the weight of the world had dropped down onto his shoulders. 

He kept his eyes locked on the dirt beneath his feet while everyone around him hooted and celebrated at the winning shot. He appeared unaffected on the surface, but inside he was jubilant. It was because of him. A center-of-the-frame shot; a flawless execution. Given how exhausted he felt, he nearly couldn't believe it, but it was perfect. He was perfect.

He rose back up to see his father approach, standing in front of him with a proud smile on his face. Before droplets of sweat had a chance to blur his vision, he quickly wiped it away with a single swipe of his arm.

Jake nodded, placing a warm hand on his son’s shoulder, “You did good, boy. I’m proud of you.”

Neteyam wanted to cry, as embarrassing as that would have been, but he knew his friends would laugh in his face and he wouldn’t have been able to handle the embarrassment so he trained his features into a blank expression instead. He gave his dad a firm nod, feeling safer with that response. 

“Go on and get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready soon,” and walked away to no doubt spend the rest of the evening with his mother and his other siblings.

His friends didn’t waste time circling around him, patting his back while praising him for his hard work. He couldn’t keep his face from stretching out into a tiny smirk this time.

It felt good being the perfect son. 

However, that feeling didn’t last as long as he thought it would have.

When he reached his early 20s, he understood that there was a lot more to leadership than he had previously thought. Not everything was centered around working and improving one’s abilities.

His mother pushed him about taking some time to find a mate on more than a few occasions. She told him that time was passing and that he wasn't getting any younger. Before she grew too old to watch her grandchildren grow and pass on the lessons she had learned as a child, she wanted to see him happy and with someone. She also hoped to see grandchildren soon, but she didn't appear to comprehend what it was he actually wanted. The last thing he wanted right now was a mate. He was actually fairly certain that it wasn't even on his list of things to do. He wasn’t in any sort of rush, and wished she understood that.

In that respect, he was very similar to his uncle, Tsu'tey. Years after Tsu’tey let his mother move on with his dad, he—who wasn't really his uncle but whom his dad had named as such years earlier—took a mate. She had a softer side to her that occasionally could defrost Tsu'tey's icy cold exterior, even though he was still reluctant to show her physical affection outside of the comforts of their hut. Despite this, the two were a good match.

Neteyam liked to believe that he was very similar to Tsu’tey, in fact. That his sole purpose wasn’t to settle down and find a mate, but instead, focus on his duties and become a great leader to the people. Eventually, he would set his sights on picking the perfect mate, but for now, he preferred to work hard and train to take his dad’s place as olo’eyktan.

Overtime, he learned that his father’s shoes were hard to fill. 

Neteyam knew he had a lot more to live up to in order to get his dad’s blessing as a true leader, but his mother already considered him one; which was one of the reasons she used to try and convince him to start opening his eyes to the potential mates within the village. He had to admit, if he were looking for a mate right now, there was no shortage of prospective women to choose from. Most had made their affections towards him abundantly clear ages ago. However, if he were going based on fertility, beauty and skills in the basics of weaving and healing, the decision would’ve been made a long time ago. If not just for his mother’s satisfaction, there had to be more than that to a potential mate in order to catch his eye. 

He wasn’t just attracted to beauty and what a woman was taught from birth. More than anything, he wanted someone that could protect herself. Prove that she could be soft and motherly while also having the skills and attributes of a warrior, like him. The idea of mating with someone that had no clue how to defend herself, that only knew how to be fragile and weak — he felt that there was no point in even looking. None of the women in the village exuded the sort of warrior-esque that he was looking for; if he were looking, that is. Therefore, he chose to prioritize his duties above all else. 

“Son, it is nice to see you once in a while but I wish it weren’t always under these circumstances,” Neytiri commented followed by a grieving huff as she rounded Neteyam to reach for the damp cloth that sat in a small, wooden bowl filled with water. She squeezed out the majority of the water, and began patting at the open wound, ear flicking back at his hiss from the sharp pain. She sighed, “You know, you are very lucky that I didn’t need to tend to your father this time. He came out of the hunting trip unscathed, unlike you,” his ears flattened at that, “Although, you’d always have someone waiting for you to come back from your hunting parties to patch you up if you would just start looking for a mat-”

“Mother, please,” his head turned to the side, eyebrows furrowed.

Neytiri hummed, feeling a tug at the corner of her lips, “So stubborn,” she finished up cleaning the wound and began to coat it with a special healing salve that would close it up within a few days or less. “I think a mate would do you some good. Would keep you at home sometimes with your family, your people. Always gone, always training or hunting. My son,” once done with that, she placed her hands on his firm shoulders, and tucked her chin into the crook of his neck, “It is almost as if you are running from obligations to yourself.”

Neteyam sat cross-legged in front of the small fire, staring at the curling flames in thought. Running. If only he was able to truly do such a thing. If only he didn’t have so much honor for his parents, he would’ve ran away a long time ago. He didn’t feel as though he was able to be himself. He never even knew what it was like to be a kid back then. 

There had always been so much pressure on his shoulders. Right from the moment that he was able to hold a bow properly, he stood in the training field, day in and day out, learning how to shoot. Tsu’tey and his father never gave him time to breathe. To just be a kid, and to run around and play with the other kids. No. He’d had ‘future olo’eyktan’ etched onto his back the moment that he was born. He couldn't escape that, so he made it the center of his world. Instead of viewing his fate as something to fear, he made himself see it as a blessing. Lately, he began to wonder if he’d done the right thing. 

He still wasn’t sure.

He could feel himself growing antsy by the minute. Deciding that it was late and that he needed to get some rest, he began to lift himself to his feet. Neytiri followed him with a disheartened gaze, wondering if her son was ever going to let himself be happy for once. From a mother’s point of view, she only wanted the best for him. For all of her children. She wanted them to experience all of the happy and beautiful things she had when she was as young as them. Especially Neteyam, who was the one she was most worried about. 

Lo’ak, her youngest son, was someone she never liked to bring up. He was mated to a human woman. He’d left the village and the clan entirely when he knew that their bond was never going to be accepted. It was painful for her to part ways with her son knowing that he was hurt by his family’s views of his choice of a mate, but it couldn’t have been helped. His mate didn’t feel welcomed, and he wasn’t going to subject his children to such a life so he fled. Found homage elsewhere, and never came back.

Kiri had even found someone that she became interested in, but things were still at a flirty stage. Not that Neytiri minded. Kiri had always taken her time with these sorts of things, but Neteyam… He wasn’t showing any of the women in the village interest. Not even a spare glance or two. He fought with her every time she brought the subject up. He seemed to like being alone and to a point, she could understand that but the beauty of loving someone, having a strong connection with them and bonding with them through tsaheylu — it was unlike any other feeling in the world. She wanted him to experience that, but perhaps he had his own pace set.

Only time would tell. 

She decided to believe in eywa’s will and guidance for her son for a period longer, and stood up as well. Neteyam brushed a few slippery strands of hair back over his shoulder before he gazed down at his mother. Just a few years ago, he was shorter than her. He was at her shoulders back then but now, he’d risen well past her head and could look down at her. It only made him recognize how much time had flown by within the last few years since they’d come back to the forest. He understood her worries, but he wished she would see things from his perspective. He wanted to find the perfect mate, and knew that she was out there somewhere. If she could give eywa a little more time to present him with that person, then she’d see for herself. She’d finally understand what all of the wait was about. Until then, he would continue to dodge her questions and wait himself.

Neytiri smiled as she coiled a finger around one of his loose curls, “You should wear your hair down like this more often. It suits you.”

“Hm,” He didn’t normally wear his hair unbraided, but after coming back from hunting, it needed washing. Most of the time, he made clean kills. He wasn’t messy, and never hardly expelled much energy. However, tonight’s kill was a bit more difficult than what he was commonly met with. Or rather, the kill was tough this time because his mind had been elsewhere…

Either way, it wouldn’t have made sense to leave it in braids so he took the time to unravel each one, and spent delicate time ridding it of the blood and dirt that had gotten into it. Now, he was letting it dry but that was half of an excuse since he didn’t have the energy to braid it back into the same style he’d had it in. “It wouldn’t be suitable for hunting or battle.”

“Well it is a good thing you don’t have to hunt again for a while, and we are not in battle now are we?” She quipped, causing his tail to sharply swish to the side at that. “My sweet boy,” she pulled him into her arms, rubbing down the line of his back, “Do you know how proud I am of you? Your father talks to me all the time about how well you are doing in your training. You are already the warrior that you wish to be. You will be a great olo’eyktan someday, but you are much too hard on yourself. You must commend yourself for all of your hard work so far.”

He knew that. Of course he knew. He was his own worst critic, and he couldn’t help it. He’d learned most of his stubbornness and prideful nature from his father. Everything that he did, it couldn’t be less than perfect. It had to be done right or else he wasn’t satisfied. 

Taking breaks might have been beneficial. He put in a lot of effort simply for himself. His parents respected him, as did those in the village and even those on the other side of the ocean. He had already established himself as a leader, but for some reason he didn't feel prepared. Not in the way everyone else felt he was. 

“I know,” he muttered, and wrapped his arms around her, “I know.”

Neytiri hissed, and pulled her son back to smack his arm, “If you are aware of this, then do you not think that you should stop being so hard on yourself?”

Neteyam’s lips pulled down, “I don’t think I’m that hard on myself…”

She openly stared at him silently for a moment before she shook her head, placing her hands on her hips, “Ah, I give up. You’re free to go,” he almost smiled to himself as he turned around to head back to the entrance of the hut, “Remember to sleep on your stomach for a few days until the wound heals, yes? No sleeping on your back or you will slow the healing.” When she patted his back close to the wound, he jumped, tail straight up. The look he gave her was almost comical, causing her to stifle back a laugh, “Sorry.”

His ears twitched, almost wishing that he hadn’t gone to his mother to get his wound looked at. 

When he stepped outside into the cool, night air, he was welcomed to the smell of food. It seemed that his kill had finally been skinned and cooked, but he didn’t feel very hungry. He was typically one of the first ones to get a bite, but all he wanted to do was climb up to his treehouse and sleep for at least ten hours. He knew that if his mother caught him skipping dinner, she’d force feed him claiming that, “growing boys need to eat,” but his argument was that he was done growing and needed the sleep more. He smiled. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

So, as sneakily as possible, he tip-toed to where his home in the trees were, and climbed up. With each step, he could feel the tension in his muscles attempt to seize up. How his bones ached for a moment of reprieve from the constant exertion of moving about the entire day. 

The treehouse wasn’t that far from the village. When he had decided to move out of his parent’s hut a few years ago, he wanted to live in something that was closer to the trees. Something that felt a little more like home to him. Something that reminded him of hometree, a place he never got to see nor live but heard so much about from his parents. Especially his father. His mother grew up there, along with her family for generations, but his father raved on and on about how inventive the system of hometree was. How there’d been a place for the entire village within the tree itself. From the sound of it, it worked the best and he knew from then on that since hometree no longer existed, he’d make the most out of what he had and built something of a similar concept. His father helped him whenever he was able to, so it turned out great. Neteyam was quite satisfied, and always loved coming home now.

Once he made it inside, he didn’t waste any time setting his bow into its usual corner and began to peel off his protective wear. Once he was settled for bed, he cozied up in his very well made bed that was just multiple pieces of large fur on the floor. He preferred the fur over a hammock because it was the most comfortable. It was also warmer. 

Before he laid down, he pushed his hair out to the side and sighed. A simple long braid would’ve fixed his current annoyance, but he couldn’t even do that. He was so tired, too desperate to rest his eyes and his body. Fortunately, sleep didn’t take but a few quiet moments to loom over him, sinking him into a deep slumber that quieted the peaceful whistle in the wind and the singing of the wildlife that surrounded him.

The start to his morning was a bit of a blur.

Neteyam felt that he had a fairly good memory. He remembered how manageable Tuk had been when she was younger. How playful and hyper she was, bouncing off the walls and skipping with every step. A curious little thing that sometimes got into things that she shouldn’t have. Ultimately, she was just being a kid but he never thought he’d miss that version of her compared to who was standing in front of him now. If only he could turn back time.

He sighed, tempted to run a hand over his face for the fifth time in a row, “Tuk, listen. You cannot walk around without something to cover yourself wit—“

“It’s Tuktirey. Not Tuk,” One of Neteyam’s eyes almost twitched. Almost. “M’not a little kid anymore, and why not?” She countered, arms folded to cover her naked chest; not to give herself some coverage but more in a teenage-rebellion kind of way. Her brows were even pulled down in an angry frown, “You do it all the time so, why can’t I?”

He’d tried his hand at explaining the concept to her every time she got like this but she refused to hear it, saying that it never made sense. Again and again, she would argue him down by saying that girls could do whatever boys could do. Which he was all for because she was right. There had never quite been a stigma against things like that, but when it came to clothing, there had to be a line drawn somewhere. She couldn’t prance around with nothing to cover herself with like she’d been able to do plenty of times as a child. She was 13 now; a teenager with a figure coming in so she had to be a bit more modest, in a sense. He started to wonder if she’d been spending too much time with Kiri, the self proclaimed women’s activist, lately. Kiri learned the term from Norm who was nice enough to even expand on the meaning which Neteyam didn’t see as a problem until she took it too far. Dare he say she could get a little annoying with it from time to time.

Seemed like Tuk was well on her way to doing his head in about it too.

Neteyam tilted his head back to stare at the tip of the hut, wondering how he was going to successfully dress his younger sister at this rate, “Eywa, I need your guidance. Please send me a sign. Help, of any kind. I’ll take it, just please.”

And so his prayers to Eywa had been answered. Quickly, too. The flap of the hut flipped up, startling him in the process.

“Hey, is Tuk ready ye—wha, why is she still naked?” Kiri asked him as she waltzed in without announcing herself. Seeing the predicament that her older brother was in, she couldn’t hold back a teasing half smile, crossing her arms, “Ah, I see. She’s not listening to you, is she? Should’ve seen this coming.”

Ah. So Eywa indeed had it out for him then. Perhaps she was upset because he’d skipped out on dinner last night without his mother knowing. Or was it more about defying everyone, and throwing himself into his duties rather than putting some of that energy towards finding a mate? He couldn’t really decide on which one Eywa had more over his head, but either way — he was dealt with a pretty shitty hand.

When he asked for help, he didn’t mean the help of his other sister who could be just as smart mouthed as Tuk. Now he had to deal with double the trouble. He couldn’t have thought of a more fun way to spend his morning. Truly.

Yet, Neteyam prided himself in being able to get himself out of situations such as these. He knew that if he acted fast enough, he could put all of this behind him and carry on with the rest of his morning. He was intent on having a good day, and that started with getting himself out of dressing Tuk. Easy. 

He stood to his feet, dropping his palms against the sides of his thighs, shrugging, “That's it. I give up.” If Eywa threw him a bone meant to be his saving grace then who was he to ignore it? He’d always been more of a gentleman anyway so of course he’d take it. He walked to Kiri’s side, sparing her a smirk. He rested a hand on her shoulder, and winked, “It’s your turn. Have fun.”

“Hey, no! Wait! Mom said she wanted you to—!”

He’d already left, and was out of sight leaving her to wrestle with their little sister. Again. It was never easy for Neteyam to dress Tuk. She should’ve known this time wasn’t going to be any different.

She looked at her younger sibling before she pouted, dropping her hands and walking over to her, “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Tuk hissed at her, and Kiri mentally cursed her brother. She was definitely going to get him back for this.

Neteyam took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with the morning dewy air, pleased with the sounds of his sister struggling to get Tuk dressed for the day and walked on as if he’d wiped his hands clean of that situation and could get his own day started. He didn’t last long on his high horse though when he saw a tall figure heading his way. He almost groaned. It was so early. He’d just slinked away from his brotherly duties, now it was as if he was being punished. He was beginning to believe that Eywa had a sick sense of humor.

“Hey, brother!” Neteyam was met with an irritating slap to the back that was thankfully a few centimeters away from the wound that was still healing. He jolted up all the same. When he glared at his friend, he was almost blinded by the big, goofy grin on his face. What could he have possibly been so happy about? The sun was barely over the trees. Could Neteyam get at least five minutes to himself before he had to entertain the daily nonsense that went on in the village? Would seem not. “Got some good news, and thought of telling you all about it first. Got some time?”

Neteyam was strong, but the kind of strength it took to hold back a quick no was a show of great fortitude that he didn’t think he had in him. At least, not so early in the morning. In fact, it was so early, he was pretty sure the animals in the forest were still sound asleep. It was barely light out. He couldn’t stand it. Not when he was bothered, left and right. Mornings had always been reserved for him to take a little walk about, and think. His life didn’t always revolve around the village’s incessant penchant for neediness. He used mornings to go over the day’s list of things to do and even liked to slide in a bit of meditation if he had the spare time. He hadn’t done any of that yet. One of the first things he did was head to his parent’s hut to tend to Tuk. He’d just left that failed obligation, and was trying to think of what he needed to do next. Plans were put on hold again.

Luckily for everyone that loved bothering him, he was used to it.

“Yeah, sure,” he said with a forced smile that came off a lot more convincing than he expected it to, “What is it?”

Kanu. He became Neteyam’s closest friend when Lo’ak was forced to leave the village with his mate a few years ago. It was hard for Neteyam when he came back and had no one to confide in, but once he delved into training to be the next olo’eyktan, he met Kanu. Eldest son to Tsu’tey, which forced him to live a similar childhood to Neteyam due to the pressures of being the eldest sons of highly respected men of the clan. 

Neteyam was taller, but Kanu was older than him. Even so, it still made Neteyam feel like an older brother again. How he needed to watch over him, and guide him in the right direction, always. It was like Lo’ak never left. Neteyam would’ve never realized that piece of him was missing if Kanu wasn’t there. He’d always been there, but Neteyam overlooked him when they were younger. His hands were full with his little brother and other younger siblings at the time so he never paid much attention to him. Still, he was there. Neteyam found it ironic that he was still there when he and his family came back. Kanu was just as receptive to seeing him again as he had been when they were kids. It would’ve been just as heartwarming now if he wasn’t always so bothersome. 

“Okay so,” Kanu started walking so Neteyam trailed next to him, thinking about all of the things that he could be getting done if he wasn’t being forced to listen to something he didn’t give half of a rat’s ass about, “There’s this girl—”

“Hold on,” Neteyam cut his thoughts short and stopped him there, pausing in the middle of the village and in the conversation, “You interrupted my peaceful morning routine to talk about a girl?”

Kanu’s eyes darted left of him then back, nervously. Neteyam could tell he was nervous by the ear twitches and his tail swinging back and forth. He almost sighed. He’d never know true peace at this rate. 

“Uh…yeah?” Neteyam gave him a dead look before he turned right on his heel, and started to walk the other way. “Wait!” Kanu caught up to him, laughing, “Does talking about women really bore you that much?”

“Yes. To death, in fact.”

Kanu blinked for a moment, maneuvering his body to the side to pass by someone, catching up to his friend once again, “You can’t be serious. You used to be so into it when we were kids.”

Neteyam looked at him funny, brow raised, “Emphasis on ‘used to’. We are not kids anymore.” He shifted his gaze forward, hellbound on heading to the training grounds as he saw no opportunity to spend the rest of his morning doing the things that he wanted to do. Might as well get a head start on his training for the day. “Some of us have to focus on more mature things rather than women 24/7.”

Kanu’s face twisted up in an unappreciative frown, “I don’t talk about them 24/7. I probably like them more than you do, but that doesn’t mean I’m always talking about them. I talk about other things all the time.”

“Like?” Neteyam sent him a look, genuinely curious because again, he had an excellent memory and knew that Kanu was infamous for constantly bringing up some new girl he started to like. 

“Uh…”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, “Exactly.”

Kanu groaned next to him, “Brother, understand! Women are one of the more greater pleasures of living,” he shook his head in disbelief, “I don’t know how you resist the temptation. I mean, I don’t always go to them. They sometimes come to me. It’s almost as if they’re drawn, you know? Really, it’s a phenomenon,” he smirked to himself, chin high in the air, “but who am I turn them away when—”

Neteyam stopped walking for the second time, and pressed a finger into his friend’s chest, teeth clenched, “And that is exactly why uncle is so hard on you now. He expects you to focus on your training, and what are you always doing?” Kanu visibly swallowed, face blank, “Talking, and not just talking but talking about girls. You are a year older than I am. It is time you grew up, and started thinking about your future and what you actually want to do. If you still want to be a warrior, you cannot be one who constantly salivates at the sight of someone with three fingers and a pulse instead of training to get better. Don’t you get it? Uncle is counting on you, and so is my father.” Kanu stayed silent, hands opening and closing by his sides, finding the sudden shift in the conversation uncomfortable, “Yeah. Remember him? The olo’eyktan? The one who has appointed you as my soon to be right-hand? Or did you forget while you were chasing after girls for the five years you could’ve spent honing your craft?”

Neteyam stared back, feeling his blood boil. Even though they shared a similar past, growing up with like-minded fathers and all, Kanu always had it just a little bit easier than he did. Never took things seriously, and lived above his duties like he could meet perfection at the door without the hard work of crawling his way there. He spent more time lazing about in the village than on the training grounds with a bow in his hand. He never even seemed interested in hand to hand combat or knife training. Always surrounded by girls, flirting and giving them false hope before moving on to the next. 

It angered Neteyam sometimes because that was all he did in his free time. Work. Train. Get better. Do better, and help out. Some days, he ran around the village offering aid to those that needed it. Whether that was carrying logs back to some old woman’s hut or giving lessons to the younger warriors that were anxious enough to learn. There wasn’t a single second he didn’t spend doing something. That couldn’t be said about Kanu. He blew off his obligations, and maybe Neteyam could admit he was a tad bit jealous of him. Jealous that his father didn’t quite have as big of a stick up his ass like his own father. It felt unfair, and he was sick of being around someone that tended to unintentionally shove his privilege in his face all the time. 

It was exhausting, and it was about time he’d had enough of it.

Kanu could tell looking at his old friend that there was more to it than what was on the surface of his mind. 

He gently pushed Neteyam’s pointed finger away, and shook his head, “Your fight is not with me, brother.” Neteyam looked confused, like he wanted to say something but Kanu continued, “It is with yourself, but I say we should stop wasting time going and forth and just go train.” He then smirked before playfully boxing at his friend’s shoulder, “Let’s direct your anger towards something useful, yeah?”

Kanu was good at that. Diffusing tension by cracking a joke or two. As annoying as it was, it always seemed to work on him. 

With a deep sigh, Neteyam nodded. He needed to take his mind off of a lot of things, and what better way to do that than beat his best friend in an innocent game of friendly fire? Good thing he was an expert with a bow. Well, maybe not so good for Kanu. He was more of a runner. Made for good target practice though. 

Suddenly, he smirked. He couldn’t wait.

Kanu frowned at the disturbing look on Neteyam’s face, watching him walk past him towards the training grounds again. He visibly shivered. He could feel it. This wasn’t going to be good for him but at least he had a good chance at surviving whatever hellish game Neteyam was up to. He was fast, and could handle whatever he threw at him. 

Literally.

He just hoped the guy would have the decency to miss his face. He had a date later tonight, and didn’t want to run her off before he got the chance to put some moves on her. 

Neteyam glanced back at him, a brow raised in expectancy, “Are you coming?”

Kanu jumped at the sound of his voice, and squeaked out a quick, “Yep, coming!” before he jogged forward to catch up to him. He shook his head, mumbling a prayer to himself, “Please let me walk away with my head still intact. Please, oh great mother.”

Click.

Scribble. Scribble. Scribble.

Click. 

Scribble. Scribble.

Click. Click. Click.

Scribble. Pause.

You inhaled, and stopped writing. Annoyed that you were interrupted by the constant camera flashes, you side eyed the young boy that stood in front of a tall tree. He had one eye open, looking through his camera lens as he watched a pack of prolemuris swing from branch to branch. He smiled to himself. They were such outstanding creatures. Weren’t aggressive, but curious little things. Perhaps he could get another shot or tw–

“Theo, don’t you think you’ve taken enough pictures?” You sighed, shutting your journal, disappointed that your thought process was no longer there. For the past ten minutes, you fought to focus on what you were writing about, but ultimately lost the battle due to the distraction. You needed peace and quiet, and were getting the exact opposite. “Jesus, you’ve taken at least 200 shots by now and we haven’t even moved from this area yet. Take a break, will ya’?”

“Yeah,” Theo tugged the camera down from his face with a sheepish smile, awkwardly hugging it as he looked around, “Sorry. It’s just,” his gaze glossed over the fauna and other animals in the nearby area unbothered by their presence, munching on the grass. “This place. It’s…magical. Feel like if I don’t capture it all, then I’ll forget it someday.” You sent him a strange look. He coughed, “You know, get Alzheimer’s or something?”

“Mhm,” You grunted as you stood to your feet, almost wishing that you had come out alone instead. Maybe you would have been able to finish your journal entry by now. “Yeah. Know what you mean. Let’s just head back to the lab then, yeah?” You patted his shoulder but didn’t wait for a response when you began to step through the tall grass and wide leaves that surrounded the both of you. “Plus, we have some distance to cover. I don’t want to be stuck out here close to dark, so come on.”

Theo looked around him once more, thinking about being stranded out in the forest at night. He shivered. The mere thought of it was something out of his nightmares. 

He quickly stepped forward, foot almost getting caught on a tree root, “Yes, ma’am!” and caught up to you.

Pandora was a beautiful planet. Home to some of the most extraordinary animals and plants you’d ever seen. It was sad that Earth was nothing like Pandora. It became overpopulated, and was dying from the amount of chemicals released into the air due to the overproduction of extremely harmful products. Mass production had always been an issue back on earth, but with overpopulation on the rise — it became a bigger problem than before. There was no other solution than to leave, and find another start elsewhere. 

Full of life and vibrancy. Everywhere you turned, you were greeted with some sort of living, breathing thing. The entire forest was alive. 

Theo was right. Pandora was magical, and there were still parts of it that you hadn’t seen just yet. 

You longed to travel around, and see what was outside of the forest. Wondered if there were any sea animals and what they were like. Different environments, different plants, different everything. Your mind buzzed with the endless possibilities, not paying attention to your harebrained partner.

Theo stumbled behind you, eyes on everything around him. He was mesmerized by life on Pandora, and wanted to capture it all with his little digital camera. He took a few shots of some wild plants then another couple of a low hanging tree with some sort of fruit growing from it. 

“Cool,” he breathed, and walked closer to get a better look at it. 

Just then, a yerik came stepping out of the bushes just a few yards in front of him, where he was headed. He stopped in his tracks, and instantly crouched down behind some thick leaves. He held his breath, and paid no mind to you walking further and further away. He needed to get a picture. He just had to.

A few insects started to circle you, buzzing in annoyance. “Ugh,” you swatted at them, stepping over a puddle of mud, “Theo, we really need to pick up the pace. Bugs like this only start coming out when it gets late so let’s try and find a detour and…” once you realized that you weren’t hearing footsteps behind you, you turned around and your mouth dropped. “Theo?” Your heart pounded in your chest. Had something happened to him? Where did he go? He was just behind you. 

“Theo!”

He heard something in the distance and looked at the direction but was brought back when he noticed the yerik moving further away. He cursed under his breath, and shifted his pack back over his shoulder. A little closer. He just needed to get a little closer, and get one good shot. He figured you couldn’t have gotten too far away. He’d catch up to you. He wasn’t worried in the slightest.

“Fuck,” you trudged back the way you came, dodging the low wide leaves in your way with a grunt, “Knew he shouldn’t have come. I fucking knew it,” you muttered to yourself.

As annoying as your partner could be sometimes, you couldn’t live without him. He was around five years younger than you, and clung to you like a little brother. Naturally, you felt a bit protective over him and didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him. 

Norm thought it would’ve been a good idea for him to come out and take some pictures. Moping about the lab was getting a little depressing. It was bothering everyone so it was mutually and collectively agreed upon that he went out with you for just a few hours, then came back. 

However, you started to regret letting him tag along. If something horrible happened to him, you would only blame yourself. Meant to keep eyes on him at all times, yet failing at something so simple as that. It was your fault. You were the reason he was lost.

“Theo!” You tried to call out for him again, but was met with the same silence. 

Even though you were able to retrace your steps, he was nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, you weren’t taught how to track so you didn’t have the first clue how to find him. Before leaving the outpost, you’d foolishly told Theo to leave the wristband comms behind, saying that the two of you wouldn’t be gone long enough to need them. While out in the forest, Theo could get easily sidetracked so they would’ve been useful.

You cursed under your breath. Unfortunately, you couldn’t spend that much time looking for him. You had to find your own way back and hope he would do the same. It was going to get dark in a few hours. Even though the forest was illuminated by its natural bioluminescence at night, it was still best you started heading back. Theo wasn’t incompetent. He knew how to defend himself, and unfortunately he had the pack with the weapons in them. Just two combat knives and some other miscellaneous defensive weapons. Still, you had none. You were in more danger than he was.

“Great,” Your head sharply turned at a faint sound to your right, watching a pack of birds fly up to the sky. Relieved that it wasn’t some predator watching you from the shadows, you released a sigh, feeling a bead of sweat roll down the side of your face, “Just great.”

If you made it back in one piece, you had half a mind to promise yourself to never go back out into the forest again.

Neteyam considered himself an expert in the art of forgiveness.

“Stop, I didn’t mean to!” Kanu shouted at the top of his lungs as he ran as fast as his long legs would carry him, “It was a mistake, brother! A mistake!” When he looked back to lock eyes with Neteyam, catching a fiery look that he was all too familiar with, he couldn’t help but belt out a laugh, tossing his head back, “For Eywa’s sake, give me a break!”

However, whenever it came to Kanu and his repeated nonsense…he was not so forgiving.

It took a while but when Neteyam finally caught up to him, he grabbed him by the neck and forced him down to the ground, face first. Kanu grunted, feeling his friend hover over a pressure point.

“Run from me again, and see what happens,” Neteyam growled in his ear.

Kanu turned his head to the side where he could see Neteyam’s face, smirking, “Do not kid yourself, brother. Next time, you will not catch me.”

Neteyam raised a brow, “Oh, is that so?” He wrapped Kanu’s tail around his forearm and gripped it in his hand before he yanked it. Hard, “You sure are confident in yourself. Don’t provoke me.”

Kanu howled out, tapping the ground.

“Okay, okay! I won’t run, I understand! Please!”

“Hm,” Neteyam let him go and stood up, still looking down at him, “If you’re done playing games, I would like to go back to training.”

Kanu stood up, and dusted himself off the best that he could. Some stains were a little harder to get rid of, but he didn’t care all that much. It was what was in his mouth that he was more concerned about. He frowned, and spat out a few specs of dirt that got on his tongue. 

“Ugh,” he gagged, almost positive that he had swallowed some of it already.

Eager to get back to work, Neteyam walked away, going back over to his bow that he’d been forced to toss in order to chase his friend around. Kanu sighed, and placed his hands on his hips as he watched him.

“Hey, question.”

“I have an answer,” After retrieving his bow, he walked over to the tree next to it to pull an arrow out of the wood then moved on to do the same to the next.

“Does becoming olo’eyktan someday frighten you? Even just a little?”

Neteyam grunted once he pulled the final arrow out of a tree. He stood in front of it, pondering on the question. 

Becoming olo’eyktan was one of the most important roles of the na’vi. One of the greatest opportunities as the first born son of a clan leader. 

For as long as Neteyam could remember, he’d always wanted to become a leader someday. Had dreamt many nights of leading his people into boundless prosperity, keeping the peace within all of the existing clans. Being remembered as one of the greatest omiticayan leaders ever known. As soon as he began to realize the work that had to go into being fully prepared to take on such a role — his aspirations for his future started to waver with uncertainty. It wasn’t just the work but what would come with being a leader that he didn’t foresee. 

That was taking on a mate.

He couldn’t be a leader without having someone to help him lead by his side. Where he thought he could do it all alone as he had since he was young was nothing but hopeful wishing. Mostly to be able to produce an heir just in case something tragic happened to him. It wasn’t ever forced, but it was recommended. 

Being the olo’eyktan’s oldest and most proudest son didn’t mean he held the privilege to take over his father’s leadership without a mate. It was unavoidable. He had to do it, and soon. So his mother told him.

Neteyam blinked, and turned around to face Kanu with a blank expression, “No. It doesn’t frighten me. Why would it? I look forward to the day that I can finally lead our people and take on the perfect mate to lead by my side. How can one not be thrilled by such an opportunity?”

“That’s a lie,” Kanu said, frowning.

Neteyam narrowed his eyes at him, “A lie? What reason would I have to lie? You know that I want to be a leader for our peopl—”

“True, but you cannot say you are thrilled to be tied down to someone you may not love.”

The rumors were just rumors…or so Neteyam had assumed anyway. 

His mother was adamant on making sure he found a mate before he became olo’eyktan. A good way to ensure his place as the clan’s leader was arranging him a mate. It sounded outrageous and utterly unnecessary to him because he believed that she would never do that to him. She wouldn’t condemn him to someone he didn’t know, and would be expected to love. She was his mother. She always expressed how she wanted the best for him. Damning him to a woman he’d never met…it didn’t sound like her. He refused to believe it.

Neteyam snorted, a smirk playing at his lips, “It’s just like you to believe every rumor that you hear.”

Kanu shook his head, “and it is just like you to pretend to not see what is so clearly in front of you.”

Neteyam walked up to him, getting in his face, “Yeah you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Kanu swallowed, looking him in the eye, “And what would be your role in all of this, hm? Surely you wouldn’t just be some innocent bystander. No… Of course not,” he gave a breathless chuckle, jaw clenched, “I wonder… I wonder how you would aid my mother in determining my fate and ruining my life because rest assured,” he took a step back before he turned around, scoffing, “It would destroy me.”

Kanu’s ears flattened at that. He was right. Mating with someone you didn’t love… It was a fate worse than death itself. To live a life being with someone with no connection to them, starting a family and growing old with that person— Kanu couldn’t imagine a life like that for himself, but maybe that was what differed between him and Neteyam. Kanu had it a lot easier compared to him. He didn’t have to worry about his parents shoving him into an arranged mating. He was privileged, in that aspect. He could see that clearly now.

“Brother,” Kanu took an apprehensive step forward, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him, “Forgive me. Understand that the last thing I want to see is you living a life that you are unhappy with. I do not wish for an arranged mating. I want you to be happy.”

Neteyam arched his brow as he peered up at his friend. There was a sorrowful look on his face. It made Neteyam laugh.

“Don’t worry, I believe you,” he bumped into his shoulder before dropping the arrows in his hand, save for one, back into his quiver, “Now, are you ready to get back to training or should I leave you to let you go and pick a tree to cry behind?”

When Kanu locked eyes with him, he growled at the teasing smile on his face. Kanu smirked, cocking his head to the side, “Hope you’re ready this time because I won’t go easy.”

Neteyam drew an arrow against the string of his bow, aimed at him, “Neither will I,” and let the arrowhead pierce through the wind.

By lunch time, Neteyam was burnt out from training. 

Deciding to take a break for now, Kanu left to go and do whatever it was Kanu did when he didn’t have anything to do while Neteyam headed back into the village to meet up with his father for his usual hunting lessons with him. 

Not that he needed the lessons anymore, but recently,  it’d been more about bonding with him than actually hunting. Helping him with catching supper for everyone while talking to him about things. Mostly about the past and the future. What it had been like for his father as the new olo’eyktan of the omaticaya clan back then, and what Neteyam could expect as his successor. There wasn’t much Jake could teach him now. It was more about letting him gain those experiences so that he could lead better when it came time for him to. 

Just as he was about to enter his parents hut, he stopped when he saw Kiri running up to him, Tuk in tow. He would’ve brushed her off, figuring that she was going to bother him with her usual drivel, but the look on her face got his attention. She looked like she’d seen a ghost or worse, a thanator.

With furrowed brows, he touched her arm, “Hey, what's the matter?”

For the first time since he could remember, she was silent. He could see the hesitation in her eyes as clear as day. She knew something or maybe she’d seen something. Either way, it had to have been terrible enough to keep her from blurting it out loud.

“Mom…she–” her lashes fluttered as her eyes fell to the ground below her, taking in a breath, “She invited some woman here, to our village,” looking back at him, she bit into her lip, “Mom said she’s going to be your mate, ‘teyam. I think this is the arranged mating I heard about, but I never thought she would actually go through with it.”

His arm fell back to his side. He stared at his sister, blood running cold.

So it was true, then. 

He was expected to be with someone he didn’t know.

To love her, mate with her.

Sentence the rest of his days to someone he wouldn’t even have a connection with. 

His fists balled up. He wasn’t going to allow this to happen. He loved and respected his mother, but he couldn’t let her dictate his life. He could make his own decisions, and this was one he was not going to let her control.

“Where are they?” He asked his sister and when she told him, he didn’t waste any time getting there.

Kiri could feel her brother’s anger, and hated that she couldn’t do a thing to help him. Arranged matings were rare. They became uncommon over the ages, and only used in certain situations. She didn’t see Neteyam as a situation. He just wanted to take his time. Become olo’eyktan, and then worry about something as minor as finding a mate later on in his life. It wasn’t nearly as serious as their mother was making it. 

The tsahik’s hut. 

Of course, Neteyam mentally seethed. Why go to him first? It wasn’t like he was supposed to meet the woman he was mated to be with for the rest of his life first, no. Course not. 

Livid, he roughly lifted the flap up and ducked inside, letting his sisters in as well. He saw them chattering around the fire, his mother sitting next to a woman he’d never seen before. A woman he was supposed to refer to as his mate now. What a load of bullshit. He’d die over several times before he’d let something like this happen to him.

When he cleared his throat, their voices died down. All eyes were on him, standing tall with a tick in his jaw. He felt like he could explode at any minute now.

“My son,” Neytiri breathed excitedly as she quickly got on her feet and walked towards him, “It is good you are here,” she smiled, pressing her hand against the middle of his back, missing the tension in his muscles, “You are just in time.”

He looked at her, his emotions bouncing all around the hut in a flurry, “In time. In time for what, mother? In time to ruin my life, is that it?”

“Oh…I…” She blinked, taken aback by his interrogative tone. She glanced at the new faces in the hut, slightly embarrassed by his reaction. “Are you upset about something? I don’t understand wh–”

“Why I’m angry?” Neteyam asked her, chest visibly rising and falling. He needed to calm down, but he couldn’t. There was a faint ringing in his ears that kept growing louder and louder by the minute. Her act of betrayal made him lose control. His entire life had been planned and dictated. All he asked was for this one thing to be his. His choice, and his alone. Ever the controlling, overprotective mother that she could be, took that away from him. That was all he had left. Why wouldn’t he be upset? “You just will not let me make my own choices. I told you that I would find a mate. Maybe not now, but later. Later when I’ve decided to settle down. Me. Not you.”

Neytiri’s ears fell in slight shame. She had planned on letting Eywa determine her son’s fate, but when she’d heard that a nearby clan leader was looking for a mate for his daughter, she thought about Neteyam. How he would end up getting consumed with his duties as the new clan leader, and forget all about starting a life of his own. A family of his own. She was only looking out for him. Did he not see that? Did he not see that she was trying to do a good thing for him? For his future? 

Jake watched the scene unfold until he couldn’t anymore, “Excuse me for a minute,” he told the clan leader before he got up, and walked over to his wife and son, “Hey.” Neytiri looked at him, but Neteyam didn’t. He hissed, and directed his gaze elsewhere, brows pulled in. Jake sighed, “Son, listen to me. Your mom’s got your best interest at heart. You know that. C’mon,” when he rested a hand on his son’s shoulder, Neteyam finally made eye contact. Jake smiled, “At least meet the girl. You might like her.”

To say that Jake approved of this arrangement would’ve been a bit far fetched. He didn’t approve, per say, he just saw no need to cause a scene over it. He found it incredibly rude for his son to walk in, and not even acknowledge the people that were there for him. To see, and meet him. His intended mate was elated to be formally introduced to him. Had heard all the stories, and knew they would be the perfect match. However, Neteyam barely even looked at her. One glance, and that was it. Jake could tell her spirits had been blown out like a candle now in the dark. It made him grimace. He felt a bit sorry for the girl, and wanted his son to be more welcoming despite how he felt about the situation. 

“Let’s sit,” Jake patted Neteyam’s shoulder, gesturing him to cross around the fire, “We should talk, and get to know one another.”

Neteyam mentally sighed. He didn’t believe that there was anything to talk about because he didn’t want to be in an arranged mating but he held too much respect for his parents. It was best to just sit and listen.

As he was about to sit down next to the clan leader, the man directed him to the spot next to his daughter. She glanced up at him and when their eyes met, she looked away, shifting in place. Neteyam sat next to her, tail curling by his side so as to not touch hers (or any part of her, for that matter). It felt a bit awkward, but he chose to ignore his surroundings and pretend he was elsewhere. 

Jake cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s attention, “This is my eldest son, Neteyam. Neteyam, this is Seynä Te Ayu Leyeyzo'ite. The chief’s youngest daughter and princess of the Ra’tecaya clan.”

Neteyam looked at the girl to his side, and pressed the tips of his fingers against his forehead, nodding, “Oel ngati kamie, Seynä te Ayu Leyeyzo’ite.”

She bloomed a tiny smile, repeating the same greeting, “Oel ngati kamie, Neteyam te Sulli Ts’yekitan. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The Ash tribe were exceptionally different from him and his people. They lived in the mountains, far away from the chaos of the rest of the world. 

They were known for their strength in numbers, their well trained warriors and their strong leadership. Chief Tarang, one of the best clan leaders to ever live. He took great pride in many of their war achievements, having bested some of the strongest clans in history. As battle ready as the Ash tribe were, they were non-confrontational. Didn’t seek out war and destruction just because they were good at it. They valued peace and honor above all else. It was one of the reasons why Jake and Neytiri hoped Tarang’s daughter would take a liking to their son. A union between the omaticaya and the ra’tecaya clans would make them strong but also symbolize that two different clans could come together to form a good relationship. Something that hadn’t been done in decades.

It was to also prepare Neteyam to become olo’eyktan. He needed a mate, and needed someone strong and ready to be by his side when it was time for him to take his father’s place as clan leader. Neytiri knew that it was going to take a while for her son to come around with all of this, but she hoped that one day, he would understand. 

“Great,” Tarang said, a big smile on his face before glancing between his daughter and Neteyam, “Perhaps these two could use the privacy?”

Ka’ul, the chief’s mate, hummed, placing a gentle hand over Tarang’s with a warm knowing smile of her own, “Yes. That would be wonderful.” Her vermillion eyes sparkled against the fire, creating flames of their own. Tarang turned his hand over to intertwine their fingers, and gave her a look. He then nodded at Jake and Neytiri.

“Then we can discuss the details.”

Neteyam could care less what they planned on talking about. If it was going to get him out of that stuffy hut then he was more than willing to leave them all to it.

Like a gentleman, he stood up and held out a hand. Seynä looked at him in mild shock but pushed it aside, and took his hand. Feeling how warm and soft it was, her mind wandered as he helped her up and led her out of the hut. When the cool afternoon breeze hit her, she breathed. The sun that slithered through the trees decorated her skin beautifully. She let her eyes close for a brief moment to soak it all in, missing the way Neteyam stared at her.

He would’ve been a fool to not notice how beautiful she was. Her long, white hair blew with the wind, splitting apart and dancing in its waves. How the two long beaded braids at the front curled around her neck and shoulders, desperate to join the rest of her hair in the current. 

She looked otherworldly. She definitely stood out amongst the villagers, catching eyes from all around. They stopped in their tracks to stare at her, some men and women whispering amongst each other in awe. If Neteyam supported the arranged mating that he was in, his chest would’ve swelled with pride for the attention that she was garnishing. He would’ve stepped closer to her, drew her near to him and walked her through the village to show her around but to also show her off. Would feel proud to call her his, but unfortunately, he didn’t feel that way about her. 

From the intricate jewelry in her hair and what laid on her forehead down to her specially made white top and long white loincloth, she was a beauty beyond compare. Now that they were back under the sun’s bright rays, he could see that her eyes were a mixture of fire and gold. How dull her skin looked, almost an ash color. Not blue like him and his people were, but a faint blue. Barely noticeable, if he wasn’t staring so hard.

“Will you show me around?” She asked him, a twinkle in her eyes, startling him. He quickly averted his eyes, and cleared his throat.

“Yes, of course,” and took the lead once again.

Their trek through the village was a quiet one. It was awkward and tense for him but she was at peace, eyeing the villagers back and smiling at the children that followed them, oohing and aahing after her. Neteyam felt like falling through the earth. He didn’t care for the extra attention, and didn’t want anything to do with having a mate right now but truthfully, there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn’t dumb. He knew that his parents and hers were going over the fine print of their arrangement by making a pänu. A promise between clans to seal the deal. There was no breaking a pänu unless you meant war. 

Neteyam couldn’t back out of it no matter what his feelings were about the situation, and that was why he’d gotten upset with his mother earlier. A mixture of things, but mainly because he remembered how sacred an arranged mating was. That was another reason why it wasn’t very common now. It wasn’t something clans practiced anymore unless they were forced to. 

He mentally sighed. His life had just gotten a lot harder. 

“How do you feel about this arrangement?” She suddenly asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Well…”

She giggled, and nodded, “Right. Better question. How do you feel about being mated to me for life?”

He sent her a strained look that only made her laugh. She figured that was her answer.

“Mmm, your village feels like home,” she muttered, steering the conversation elsewhere, “Reminds me of what I left today.” They passed by a hut with an older woman sitting outside of it, weaving together what looked to be a basket of some sort. A child was sitting next to her, seeming to help her by supplying her with the materials she needed. Seynä nodded at the two, giggling at the child’s shocked expression. She directed her attention forward again, walking gracefully, “A home away from home sounds like a dream, don’t you think?” She looked at him, finding his profile rather distracting.

Neteyam didn’t feel like engaging in a meaningless conversation, but he didn’t want to be rude. His father would only dig into him about not being fully welcoming, so he indulged her.

“Do you like it here so far?” He asked her back, wondering if she would have to sleep with him tonight since they were going to be a mated pair. He hoped not. He wanted to hang onto his free will for a little while longer. 

Seynä hummed, looking at her surroundings again. “I do. It is pleasant. Very lively, unlike my village. We are…” she searched for the right words, eyebrows twitching together, “…fairly independent people. We stay to ourselves, and do not mingle often. Even the way your family sat by the fire back there,” the light in her eyes dimmed in thought, “We do not do that.”

At first, Neteyam didn’t care to converse with her but as he listened to her speak, he found himself unable to block her out. Maybe it was the sadness in her voice that he wanted to soothe. To let her know how repentant he felt for her. He had to admit, not spending several moments around his family everyday sounded miserable. He was also quite independent, but he liked being around his parents and siblings. They were a part of the sole reason he woke up everyday. Not just for himself, but for them. Their happiness, their well-being, all of that mattered a lot to him. The way Seynä spoke about her people and her family and the way they did things — it couldn’t have sounded any more heartbreaking than that. 

He schooled his features to remain indifferent, but there was a twinge of pain inside. He didn’t know what that was like, but he didn’t have to know to understand what life had been like for her. He could sympathize.

“Well you’re here now,” he commented, feeling her eyes shift back to the side of his face, “and because you are here,” he looked down at her, a corner of his lips twitching up, “–you will get to experience all of that yourself. Know what it is like to wake up together, hunt and eat together, celebrate and dance around the fire…together.” Seynä’s lips parted at his kind words, her heart thumping in her chest. “A home away home, is that how you put it?” He smirked, humming, “I guess this is where you are meant to be then.”

Was it foolish of her to feel this way about someone so early on? She had only just met the man… But something was there. She could feel it. This compelling pull towards him. It was undeniable. There was something about him that called to her. Something that she couldn’t describe. 

The feeling of finding a mate was a special one. It was a different for everyone, but it usually centered around seeing that person over everyone else. Like a light had come from the sky, shining down on just them. That was how she knew.

Right then and there, she knew that he was the one. 

That he was her mate. 

She cut their eye contact short by ripping away from his gaze, finding the ground she walked on a little more interesting. The tips of her ears burned. 

“Thank you, Neteyam. You’re too kind.”

He hummed, peering forward with his hands behind his back, “No need to thank me. I know this union isn’t wanted by either of us, but we have to make the most of it or else we will just end up resenting each other,” he watched a group of children run past the two of them, giggling and chasing one another, “I, for one, do not want to spend the rest of my life hating someone I am supposed to love,” When he glanced down at her, he found her eyes back on him again. They were swirling with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “So I will try my best to love you, provide for you and protect you. But know that this is not what I wanted for myself. You will not be alienated from me, but I cannot promise my heart to you. I will not cheat or lie. I will be faithful to you, but giving my heart…” he shook his head, returning his focus back ahead, eyes hardened, “That is something I will not promise to give you. I cannot.”

Just as soon as she’d felt a pull towards him, she was immediately pushed back. Reality hit her harder than she could’ve expected. He didn’t share the same feelings as her. He didn’t even want this arranged mating to even happen. He didn’t want to love her, didn’t want to give her his heart, didn’t want any part of her or this entire ordeal. 

On the outside, she kept her composure and watched him walk ahead of her, thankful that he’d set his back to her because she didn’t know how long she could keep the tears back. All she wanted since she was a little girl was to find the sort of love that her parents had. A connection made from the stars, kissed by Eywa herself. Even though their mating was arranged, she believed that there was still a chance for them. She thought that he just needed to see her, and would fall in love with her at first sight. But that didn’t happen. He couldn’t have shown his revulsion for their arrangement more clearer to her than he had.

Once he was done showing her around, he was going to offer her lunch that he had picked himself earlier but she told him that she’d started to feel unwell. That she needed to lay down for a while. He figured it was because of the long trip her family made across the plains so he nodded, and wished her well. She didn’t say anything but smiled, and went on her way. He didn’t notice how forced her smile had been because he was relieved to be back in his own presence again. Kanu wasn’t around and he’d just gotten rid of Seynä so he was rejoicing. 

However, he couldn’t get it out of his head that he was going to be forced to mate with someone he didn’t even know, that he didn’t even have an initial connection with. Seynä wasn’t his type. Not by a long shot. He’d heard about her accomplishments as a warrior and knew that she was strong, but her personality didn’t match him. Didn’t match what he was looking for. Plus, there was no spark. No banter, no meaningless arguing about nothing and no playfulness, even though he could come off quite stiff himself. He enjoyed the teasing comments and such, but he got none of that from her. It was disappointing, but expected because he didn’t choose her. His mother did.

His teeth clenched again at that. It was going to take him a long time to move past her deceit, but he had to preoccupy himself with other things until then. And, perhaps, keep contact with her at a minimum, if he could help it.

Deciding that a breath of fresh air was needed to think without being bothered, he headed off into the forest in hopes to clear his mind, but had no clue what he was going to end up finding whilst on the trail.

“Fuck this.”

You crumpled up the map in your hands before shoving it back in your pack. It was useless when you had no clue where you even were at this point. Everything looked the same. You were almost positive that you’d gone in a circle a few times. 

A map that was supposed to lead you back to the lab. What a laugh. You’d been roaming around the forest for so long, you knew that Theo must’ve made it back by now. If you were caught under the dark night sky, you hoped that he would relay the message that you were still out and definitely lost. Maybe some reinforcements would come running to your rescue or something.

“This is not happening,” You said under your breath, plunging a boot into a muddy puddle, forgetting about dodging them now. You were much too tired to think about anything but escaping the forest and getting back to the outpost. 

With a grim sigh, you shifted the pack back down your shoulder to reach in it. You pulled out your water canister, hoping that there was still some left. Theo had used it last, but before he could’ve downed the entire thing, you snatched it away from him. So, there was a good chance he’d left some. Putting it up to your lips, you were disappointed. Nothing. Just as you’d feared. 

Your eyes begrudgingly searched the area for a water source, but found nothing. You stumbled forward, mindful of your step, and tried to listen for a river or something near. The silence was deafening. 

It seemed as though the forest was against you, but you weren’t ready to give up just yet.

It wasn’t hot, but paired with walking for hours non stop with no water and carrying a pack on your back the entire time could feel a little stifling. After a few tiresome steps, you leaned your shoulder up against a nearby tree, taking a small break. There had to be some sort of water source around. You’d come across plenty of animals to be sure of it. Surely they wouldn’t flock somewhere that didn’t contain a river or even a small stream. Hell, you’d take rain at this point. Anything to keep you from passing out.

Spurring you from your thoughts, you heard something. Craning your neck, you peered up into the trees above you, eyes squinted to fend off some of the sun rays. Aside from the rustling tree leaves, you didn’t see much movement. Maybe it’d just been a figment of your imagination. You didn’t doubt it. Without food or water, you were going a little delirious. 

Just as you were about to give up and set up camp, another sound caught your attention. 

Trickling.

Water?

You sprung off of the tree, and trampled through some low hanging leaves until you were met with a wide stream up ahead. The water was clear enough to see through, telling you that it was safe to drink from. There even looked to be fishes swimming through the water. You knew how to catch fish, skin them and cook them so you felt lucky. Though, for now, you were just grateful for the water.

“Thank god,” you walked forward and let your pack slip from your shoulder as you dropped down in front of the bank, hands pushing off into the water.

You cupped a good amount in your hands, and drank until you couldn’t anymore. Once you felt satisfied enough, you leaned back and sighed. The mud that covered your shirt made you cringe, looking down at it. You’d tripped earlier, landing right in a pile of mud. With no way to clean it, you kept it on but now that you could, you didn’t waste any time tugging it over your head to wash it.

You shoved it in the water, and started to wash through it, not caring if it came out perfectly clean or not. You just needed to remove most of the mud so it wouldn’t feel uncomfortable when you put it back on. 

Too distracted to notice, Neteyam sat crouched in a tree not too far from where you were stationed. He kept himself hidden, watching you. He’d been following you for a while now. Initially, he’d wanted to take a walk to think some things over but didn’t expect to come across a wandering human that was covered in mud, griping to herself. Odd scene, but curious enough. 

A human, this far out, was peculiar enough but seeing you by the stream wearing nothing but a small piece of fabric to cover your breasts was enough to stir something in him. It was strange because he was used to his people wearing so little. There was nothing ever sexual about it, but you were human. He knew that your kind tended to wear a lot more than his people did. So, to see so much of your skin under the sun’s pure sunlight, unaware of him watching you the way he was — it made him unable to look away.

His tail curled at the sight of you looking around you before unhooking your bra. You set it at a spot where the sun could catch it, and pulled your drenched shirt from the water. After inspecting it, you nodded and put it near the other piece of fabric, right on the rocks. Then, you stood up, and shoveled through your pack for something. When you faced Neteyam’s way, for some reason, he looked away. His eyes fell elsewhere, embarrassed that he’d been staring at you. He didn’t know why. You had no clue he was even there so why did he care?

After finding whatever it was you were looking for, you turned back around, back facing him again. He sighed, and looked down at you again to watch you wrap a long strip of what looked to be some sort of cloth around your midriff up to your chest. It didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen, but it seemed as though you were using it to cover your chest again. Ah. He knew what you were doing now. Your shirt was too damp to put back on so you were letting it dry, as well as that other piece of clothing you’d had over your chest. 

Once you were done with that, you moved on to stepping into the stream, after you’d taken your boots off. He imagined that you were getting ready to clean your feet or some other part of your body but what he witnessed next surprised him. 

You stood there for a good minute, completely still. So still, if he looked hard enough, the fishes in the water forgot that you weren’t supposed to be there and swam past you. You held your breath, staring down at the water as you timed you just right. Once a good sized fish swam between your legs, you dove down and caught it with your bare hands. Neteyam’s eyes widened at the sight. Without the use of a bow or a knife, you’d caught a fight with your hands. He was greatly impressed. He didn’t think humans possessed intelligence this vast.

You cheered to yourself and tiptoed out of the water, happily with your meal. After killing it merifully, you dug through your bag again. Pulling out a sharp knife, you went back over and began scaling it. 

Neteyam sat down on the branch he was on, and leaned his back against the tree, eyes still on you. He placed his bow in between his thighs, and got comfortable. He had a feeling he was going to be there for a while. 

While he watched you, there was someone else lurking in the trees watching him.

The moment that you realized that you weren’t alone was the exact same moment you watched a tall blue man jump from above, bow raised to save your life. 

Because he’d saved you, he came out of the attack with a deep wound. He was reluctant to help you, but after some time, he let you into his personal space to treat him. Once it was cleaned and bandaged up, you thanked him and packed up. You were going to finish finding your way through the forest, but he’d suddenly picked you up and packed you off into the trees. 

Breathless and surprised, you tried to ask him what that had been about but noticed that he’d saved you. Again. You were grateful, of course, but he was a stubborn one. Also a bit childish with the way he kept provoking you to get upset, obviously enjoying your reaction to him. Even though he was way taller than you and evidently stronger, you still held your ground well and told him exactly what was on your mind. He found it amusing and a little brazen, but he didn’t back down either.

“It sounds like he’s calling for you,” you mentioned again, taking a step forward, “Why don’t you go down and talk to hi–”

You didn’t expect him to catch you in time, but he did. Held you close against him, making sure you weren’t going to slip from his grasp. He was warm, that was your first thought. Then, you thought about how odd it was to feel his nose against your neck. You could hear a faint inhale from him, and wondered why he was smelling you. Did you have an odor? Well, you had been walking around the forest for a few hours under a hot sun and didn’t have access to a shower anywhere so maybe you did. It made you want to curl up in embarrassment. 

You struggled in his grasp, feeling awkward now, “What are you doing?” You tried to ask, but no answer. 

Your face twisted up in surprise when you felt something hot and wet slide across your skin. With another gasp, you tried to pull away from him but he held you against him in a tight grip. 

“No,” he commanded in a deep tone, and ran his tongue up to your ear, “be still, tawtute.”

The deep tone of his voice, the growling, it made you feel shameful because instead of being scared — you were awfully turned on. 

That realization only made you try and get out of his hold all the more.

You struggled in his grasp, trying to get a look at his face, “What the hell is your problem?”

He didn’t respond, and it angered you.

“Hey,” you tried again, finally allowed wiggle room to look at him, eyes searching his face with a frown, “why did you–ah!” You were dropped back on your feet, but didn’t have time to find your footing. With a scream, you fell backwards off of the tree branch and soared down. 

The fall felt longer than it was. There was no part in you that felt like you were going to make it. That you were going to survive falling from such a great height. You’d said your little prayers, and to your surprise — they were answered.

Caught by another beautiful blue man, peering down at you with wild curiosity.

“Pesu? A tawtute?”

Kanu was his name. Friendly, chatty and very flirty. At least he seemed bearable in conversation compared to the other guy. Someone that had just been all up on you a moment ago but walked a ways ahead like he didn’t want to even be near you. Kanu talking to you the entire way to the village didn’t silence the buzzing thoughts of what you’d done to make his friend hate you all of the sudden. It didn’t make sense, and you aimed to ask him about it at some point.

However, the moment that the three of you entered the village, you were pulled from your thoughts and stared back at the villagers staring at you. Kanu walked past them without even acknowledging them and when you looked up at him, you noticed that he wasn’t wearing his usual smile. His eyes were hard and focused, lips tight, and shoulders tensed. He almost looked a little uncomfortable, but also annoyed by something. Was it the villagers? You could hear some of them whispering but of course, you were unable to understand what they were saying. Maybe he could hear them. 

“Kanu–”

“Neteyam, will the tsahik see her?” Kanu asked his friend, his frown deepening, unintentionally interrupting you, “She is a sky person. She is not welcomed, but she is wounded. Will she treat her?”

Neteyam grunted without looking back at him, “I don’t know. For her sake, let’s hope so.”

You didn’t understand what was going on or what they were saying so you remained quiet for the rest of the way. 

Once the three of you arrived at a hut, Neteyam opened the flap and held it as Kanu carried you inside. It was warm. There was a fire lit in the middle, and a woman near a table at the other side of the hut, mixing something. You stayed silent, eyes following Neteyam as he crossed over to her, saying something to her too low for you to catch. You waited, and when she turned around to look at you, her eyes widened.

She looked at Neteyam, “She is wounded, you say?” He nodded.

“Yes, grandmother. She is in need of your aid. Could you…?”

Mo’at nodded, turning back around to gather her supplies, “Oh yes, of course. Set her down on the mat over there, and have her remove her shirt. I will need full access to that wound to clean it.”

Kanu, having heard the conversation, moved around the fire as well to set you down on the mat he was told to. When he made a move to stand up, you grabbed his arm with a small, confused frown.

“What is going on?”

Kanu smiled, and bent back down, extremely close to your face. You made a move to back up, but he placed a hand at your nape to keep you there, “Mmm, you are going to be treated, little one. You are hurt, but the tsahik can help you. Do as she says, and you will be fine. Okay?”

Feeling butterflies in your stomach, you gave him a slow, subtle nod to show that you understood him. Satisfied, he pinched your cheek and stood back up, rounding the fire to stand at the other side of the hut to give Mo’at the space that she would need to treat you.

As Mo’at was still busy gathering what she would need to help, you watched Neteyam bend down at your other side, fingering at your shirt. You inched away, not knowing what he was trying to do, disregarding the smirk that slowly spread across his face.

“Shy, are we? One with such a filthy mouth shouldn’t be so shy, am I right?”

He thumbed at the edge of your shirt again, tugging at it, causing you to try and smack his hand away, flushed from head to toe, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but why are you trying to take my shirt off? I would very much like to keep it on, thank you.”

Neteyam chuckled, leaning back a bit, “Do not think I would like to see a tawtute like you naked. Would much rather pluck out my own eyes than see something so…” he eyed you down, finding the way you were protecting yourself from his touch amusing. “…displeasing.”

You gasped, and he almost laughed. “Displeasing? Well why don’t you leave if you don’t want to see me? No one’s forcing you to stay.”

He snorted, “I know, trust me.” He was going to elaborate further on why he really couldn’t leave your side, but that was a conversation that needed to be saved for later. “Anyway,” he pulled at your shirt again, smiling at the slap across his hand again, “You have to take this off. She has to treat you. She cannot do so with this on.”

You frowned, “Yeah, but the wound is on my leg. Why would I need to take my shirt off if I don’t–”

Neteyam ignored your protesting and pushed your shirt up to reveal a fairly large scratch across your abdomen. How you didn’t at least feel it by now, you had no idea but you stared in awe at it. You couldn’t help but entertain the thought that maybe you had a few more injuries on your body that you weren’t even aware of.

He grunted, and folded his arms. 

“See? Remove it.” He stood up, eyes never leaving you, “Or don’t let her help you. Your choice.” He walked to stand beside Kanu, a bored expression now on his face.

You pouted to yourself, feeling silly for being so difficult. At first, you thought that he was trying to see something else but he was only trying to help you. Still, it didn’t make up for the fact that he had let you fall out of the tree earlier. You planned on never letting him live that down. 

Just as you were about to undress, you saw the flap of the hut fly open and a woman walk in. She was beautiful, if you didn’t count the chaotic look on her face. 

“Oh great mother, Neteyam!” She raced towards him, and pulled him into a tight hug. He smiled a little, and hugged back but tried to pull away.

“Mother, it’s fine. I’m okay–”

“Where did you go?” She asked him, brows pulled down in an angry frown, pulling back to look him over, “You were gone for hours, my son. What happened?”

He was going to respond when he saw Seynä, and her parents walk in. They must’ve heard the rumors about a human in the village and it was so late at night, of course they got curious. He couldn’t blame them, but the last person he wanted to see right now was Seynä.

She gave him a tiny smile that he didn’t reciprocate. He wasn’t in the mood. It was late, and he had you to deal with. 

He could feel a headache coming on.

“Neteyam!”

Tuk came running out from behind her mother, and hugged his waist. He gently patted her head with a soft smile.

“Tuk.”

Kiri waltzed in, and was about to say something snarky when her eye caught yours. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

“Whoa, who’s that?”

Neytiri turned her head your way, and it was as if the room had been struck by lightning. No one said a word. It was like everyone had stopped breathing all at the same time. If not for the crackling of the fire that separated you from her, it would have been dead silent. 

Her stare was cold. Scarier than anyone you’d ever seen. 

Within a split second, she was rushing towards you with her fangs bared, hissing. 

“Woah there,” Jake stepped in her way, physically holding her back, “Let’s take a second, yeah?” He caught Neteyam’s eye who looked ready to jump in at any second. Neytiri tried to push Jake out of the way, but he held her firm, “Hey,” he blocked her sight of you by getting in her face, “Stop, okay? What are you doing? We don’t do that. We don’t attack unless we have a good reason to, right?”

“Why are you protecting that demon?!” She asked him, eyes feral and wide, “You dare to stand in my way, to put yourself between a human and your mate?!”

Jake took a glance behind him at you, silently apologizing for the situation and looked back at her, “Yes. She’s harmless. Neteyam and Kanu would not have brought her here if they didn’t trust her so we have to trust her too.”

Neytiri hissed in his face, and broke out of his grasp. She didn’t take the opportunity to advance on you, but she held her ground, “Do not tell me to trust. I trust who I trust, and that thing will not get it from me.”

You’d long put the puzzle together that she was Neteyam’s mother and that Jake, the one you’d heard so much about, was his father. The great Toruk Makto and his warrior mate, Neytiri. Knowing this, it hurt to watch her get so upset by your mere presence. You knew that it was because you were human. You’d learned from Max and Norm that Neytiri wasn’t quite fond of humans and was on edge everytime one had to come strutting through her village. Understandably so, if what you heard about what happened to her family was true. Mo’at was her only living relative from those dark times. Of course, with kids now, she was grateful, but she missed the ones she’d lost. She had no plans of losing anyone else, and tensed up around sky people for a reason.

Under everyone’s radar, Tuk moseyed over to you. Startling you, she smiled and apologized for the scare. She bent down, seeing that she felt a bit too tall standing up in comparison to you, and nodded.

“My name is Tuk. It is nice to meet you. What is your name?”

Still shaken up, you hesitantly told her your name and she gasped, “Pretty! Can I give you a nickname?”

You tilted your head, “Nickname? Well…I don’t see why not,” you smiled back and her eyes widened.

“Okay! I will think of one, and tell you later, okay?”

Her bright spirit and infectious energy made you almost forget that you were in the same room as the woman that wanted nothing more than to murder you right where you sat. 

You nodded, “I can’t wait.”

Tuk beamed happily and was going to say something when she was caught off.

“I will need all of you to leave,” Mo’at said aloud, peering over her shoulder at the group still circled around the fire pit near you, “I will need to heal and dress her wounds. The girl deserves privacy, no?”

Jake’s eyes darted from his children to Neytiri before he placed a hand at her back, ignoring the pointed look she gave him, “Come on everyone, let’s head out and give her some air. Tuk?”

Tuk blew out an exasperated breath, stood up from your side and nodded, “Okay,” she said in a dispirited tone and followed after her father but not before sending you a wave and a small smile, “See you tomorrow.”

You smiled and waved back before you felt something hit you over the head. It only stung for a second or two. Mo’at came around you, holding a wooden stirring tool in her hand. You reached up, and scratched at the spot you were hit at, “Um, ow?”

“Undress, child,” she retorted, shaking your head.

“Alright, alright.”

You took your shirt off, and sat there as she squatted down to your level to begin treating you. 

You cringed, “ah,” hissing at the sting of pain. You felt Mo’at dab at the wound on your shoulder with a damp cloth in a not-so-delicate way. She rose a brow at the look you gave her, and continued on. 

Once everyone left, Neteyam stood in place, arms folded with a deep set frown on his face as he watched yours twist up in discomfort. He could feel your emotions. They were everywhere but the ones he could pin down were fluctuating between feeling anxious, tensed and drained. He could tell that all you wanted to do was rest for the night, but he couldn’t risk your wounds getting infected. Not like he was worried about your health. He just needed to make sure once you woke up in the morning, you would be cleared to leave the village and never come back. Although, since his father was aware of your presence now, it was unlikely he would let you go until you were fully healed and able to travel on your own.

Neteyam almost rolled his eyes. Much to his dismay, of course.

“Ow,” you whined, and Mo’at clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

“Child, do not be so soft,” she dipped the cloth in her bowl of water to drain it before gathering it with water again, cleaning another wound of yours, “This is your doing, is it not? Perhaps you will learn to be more careful next time, hm?” You winced, biting your lip from hissing out again. 

Neteyam clenched his teeth at the way your fists were balled up in your lap. He had the urge to tell his grandmother to stop what she was doing and let him take over, but the more sensible side of him kept him rooted in place. He didn’t care about you. If he was right and his body had chosen you as his mate, then it was simple. His sudden feelings towards you weren’t of his own volition. The need to protect you, harm anyone willing to harm you and officially make you his mate wasn’t him. There was no reason to listen to any of the things his body wanted to do in thought of you. He still had control. He would continue to have control. He wasn’t going to let himself be brought down and ruled by something so pitiful as this. He was much stronger than that.

Seynä stood next to him, rigid, glaring down at you. Her body rattled with anger. Your mere presence made her want to revolt. She couldn’t stand the sight of you, but witnessing the way Neteyam was with you compared to how he was with her — it infuriated her in ways she couldn’t begin to explain.

Fairness was a luxury in her world. She was aware that Neteyam didn’t love her. That it would take time for him to see her and come to love her the way she wanted him to, but was it selfish of her to have wanted him to fall at first sight? He didn’t even want to stand next to her, let alone be in the same room as her. Took one glance during their first meeting earlier, and ignored her ever since. 

She wasn’t expecting him to hold her hand or kiss her every two seconds, but could he at least acknowledge her and not make her feel as alienated as she had the moment she stepped into the village? He promised he would try, but it didn’t look like he was upholding his end of the deal. 

“Some of these wounds are deep, child,” Mo’at frowned as she began to wrap one of your wounds with a roll of gauze, “What on earth happened out there?” 

You didn’t feel like going into the subject as most of your injuries came from when you’d fallen out of the tree earlier. Especially when Neteyam could’ve prevented it from happening in the first place. Kanu wasn’t around to save either of you from explaining it, either. Though, you were more focused on why Mo’at was using modern wound care to treat you to think about a response.

Neteyam cleared his throat, eyes still on you, “It was my fault, grandmother. Do not take it out on her.”

Appalled, Seyna snapped her head at him, lips pressed into a thin line, “Ma ‘teyam, do not take up for that demon! You did nothing wrong, I’m sure of it!” She exclaimed, speaking in na’vi on purpose so that you wouldn’t understand their conversation. For some reason, that irked Neteyam.

When he looked at her, he didn’t even turn his head. His intense gaze drilled a hole through hers from the side, causing her to take a step backwards from him. “Why are you still here? Do you not have someplace else to be? Hm?” 

A whimper fell past her lips, eyebrows pulled together in disbelief. 

“Well– well because I thought…” he stared at her, lip curled, jaw flexing. His presence was becoming so suffocating, she found it hard to breathe. “I thought—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, shifting his gaze back onto you, ignoring the way you were invested into the conversation, appearing concerned. He switched to his native tongue, highly irritated now, “I do not need you hovering over me. It is pathetic, and below your status, Seynä. Mind your manners or I will get the impression that you aren’t as suited to be my mate as your father has told my father.” 

Seynä’s lip trembled, clearly trying to hold back tears. Her nails punctured her skin, feeling the cool ooze of blood coat her fingers. 

“I don’t understand. Does she mean something to you? Why do you care about some human?”

Neteyam glared at her, “Do I need to explain myself to you? Someone I met today; a stranger, no less. What business I have with anyone is none of yours. Do you understand? Do not question me again, and I won’t be so nice the next time that you do.” He eyed her down, more upset than he had intended to get with her. “You may go or was there something else?”

His quick dismissal of her made Seynä’s stomach drop. It was utterly degrading, and it made her feel insignificant to him. Lower than low, less than dirt. She wasn’t even a blip on his radar, and she couldn’t help but entertain the idea that maybe there was something going on between you and him. That she had lost to a human before the battle even began.

How sickening. Her hands clenched tighter, settling the fire in her eyes onto you. She was angry, livid with the idea that you dared to even think you could match up to her. She was his mate. Not you. Why did he even care to stay with you if he hated humans so much? She couldn’t even stand the smell of you so why wasn’t he just as repulsed, if not more?

The questions spinning around in her head only made the dull ache thicken into a pounding thrum, mere seconds away from blooming into a full on headache. She couldn’t stand the way he looked at her and spoke to her as if she was some bothersome child tugging at his clothing for attention. She was his mate. She deserved to be treated as such.

With a sharp sniffle, she stepped back into his space and tossed her hair back over her shoulder, “As you wish,” and stomped to the entrance of the hut, roughly pushing the flap out of the way, stepping out into the night.

You watched the tension in Neteyam’s shoulders drop, catching a breath of relief slip past his lips. He set his bow against the wall of the hut, and sat down, folding his legs into a comfortable position just across from you, opposite of the fire pit. He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly exhausted from the day’s events. 

Mo’at glanced at her grandson before giving you a firm pat on the back, “I’m finished.”

With a grunt, she stood up with her bowl and walked over to the table that was brought in from an outpost to help organize her herbs and other medicinals. As she worked to clean her station up, you stared into the fire, too apprehensive to look at the man across from you. You could feel his eyes on you, but didn’t know what to say back. That conversation between him and the woman that had just left seemed intense, even though you couldn’t understand a word that they were saying. It felt like a conversation you shouldn’t have been in on.

You swallowed nervously, twiddling with your fingers. 

Then, you watched from your peripheral vision as Neteyam stood up and rounded the fire. When he kneeled next to you, your body tensed up. His brows twitched at that. 

“I am not going to hurt you, foolish woman,” He said in a low tone, almost close enough to feel his breath on your skin. He sighed, a soft look in his eyes that he was thankful you didn’t catch, “You are very troublesome, you know that?”

You looked up at him, having to stretch your neck to fully take in his entire face, lips pursed, “Troublesome? So you’re saying it’s my fault that I almost fell to my death earlier?”

He chuckled, and it made your heart skip a beat. 

He tilted his head, and lifted a finger to your cheek to push away a stray piece of your hair from your face, eyeing the way your lips parted, “Mmm. Yes.” You gasped, and he smirked, “Though, is it my fault that you are tiny and clumsy?”

His heated gaze made you drop your eyes to your lap again, suddenly finding your hands a lot more interesting than the conversation.

“No…but—”

“You will sleep with me tonight.”

Your head snapped up at him, eyes wide, “I—huh?”

He hummed and stared at you for a moment longer before he stood to his full height, fixing the leather armor on his arm, “I will wait outside. When you are finished here, I will take you to my home.”

“Neteyam, wait, but I—” He didn’t give you a chance to finish. He lifted the flap to the hut, and stepped out, leaving you alone with Mo’at, who you forgot was still there in the first place. You deflated and slumped in place. “He never lets me finish my sentences,” you moped bitterly to yourself. “Asshole.”

Mo’at chuckled as she came walking back over, drying her hands on a clean cloth, “You two are like night and day, I tell you,” you tilted your head back to look at her, catching a faint smile on her face, “Very entertaining, indeed.”

You dropped your eyes back onto the fire in front of you, realizing how warm your face had gotten. Your mind reeled with the imprinted image of him that you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried. The way the flames of the fire danced across his face, lingering on his dark eyes and plump lips. How you felt his body heat pulse against your own, dangerously close. When slips of his dark hair fell over his shoulder when he had bent down to your level, almost brushing your shoulder. From the way he’d looked at you, how warm and gentle his voice had been when speaking to you just now — it all made you want to melt right into the ground. 

Then, you remembered where he told you that you were going to be sleeping tonight.

Beads of sweat cascaded down from your temples, sneakily tumbling towards your chest wrappings, between the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitched.

Alone, with him. 

With Neteyam, of all people.

“Oh god,” you breathed, unable to fathom what a night with him was going to be like. 

The sexual tension was obvious, but he’d made it clear how much he couldn’t stand you. How were the two of you going to sleep under the same roof if you couldn’t get along? 

Oddly enough, he was the least of your worries. It was that woman from earlier that you had to really worry about. She seemed to like him, so the thought of her finding out that you’d slept in the same vicinity as him… Her possible reaction made you shiver. It wasn’t going to be pretty, that was all you knew. 

You put your face in your hands, and groaned. 

Was it too late to run off into the forest without anyone noticing? 

Only one way to find out. 

Your plan of running back out into the forest without anyone noticing was snuffed out the moment that you stepped outside. It was pouring down with rain, but Neteyam stood there as if the sky was clear. He didn’t let the rain affect him, and stood with his arms crossed, waiting for you like he’d said he would. 

When you stepped out, his head turned towards you. He looked you over, slowly, before he bent down. You quirked your head to the side, not understanding what he was doing, watching as he put his hands out behind him.

After squatting there for a few moments, he looked at you over his shoulder with a raised brow, “What is it?”

You snorted, giving him a funny look, “I dunno. You tell me.”

He almost rolled his eyes. It seemed he would have to spell it out for you.

“Get on. I will carry you the way there.” His eyes fell on your legs, “You are too tiny to keep up, and I will not slow down for you.”

“Not if you’re just going to insult me, no.”

Neteyam sighed. He should’ve expected this from you. It was never easy to get you to do anything if it was coming from him. 

Done with playing nice, he stood up, and walked towards you. You glared at him, but gasped out when you felt him sling you over his shoulder. 

“Hey, what the hell?!”

He smirked, and walked out of the village.

“Put me down! Are you crazy?!”

“You are a noisy woman, did you know that?”

“I can walk, ya know!”

“No. You are too slow.”

“Neteyam!”

He chuckled, “Good. You know my name.”

You glowered at him, “You’re not funny.”

He laughed, and ignored you the entire way until you stopped talking altogether. 

When the two of you approached a large tree, you did your best to look up at it. The rain seemed to be coming down harder than earlier, which made you want to get inside of wherever Neteyam lived all the more. He stood there, thinking it through. Usually, it would’ve taken him less than a minute to climb up to the treehouse but then again, he was never carrying a small human in his arms while doing it. He had to think carefully and rationally.

“We’re not going up this tree…right?” You asked him, eyeing both the tree and him.

Neteyam licked his lips, and gripped your legs against him tighter. “Just stay still.”

Your eyes blew wide, “Uh, yeah can you put me down? I think I’m okay with sleeping on the ground, actually,” you laughed nervously, trying to wiggle out of his hold. “It can be quite comfy down here, trust me. Just– no wait!”

Neteyam started to climb up the tree, ignoring your shrieking. He found it annoying and distracting but he had to focus on not dropping you and going up at the same time. Thankfully you were still or you would’ve fell.

It didn’t take long for him to reach the edge of his home. He had to flip you around and push you onto the surface of the treehouse by your bottom, which made you flush but you ignored it and pulled yourself up. Gasping, you laid there as he swung himself up as well, ducking inside. Groaning, you stood up and headed inside as well.

He busied himself with taking off his armor while you took a look around. You had expected the place to be pitch black due to no light, but you were wrong. He’d had all sorts of vines and flowers weaved throughout the home, illuminating every nook and cranny. What you saw was to be expected.

There wasn’t much there other than piles of miscellaneous things in one corner and a bunch of folded up fur in another. There were some folded up mats as well, but the home was quite vacant. Aside from the mild decorations of beading and such, there wasn’t much there. It wasn’t all that shocking to you since Neteyam didn’t give you the impression that he was someone that liked hoarding a bunch of things that didn’t serve a purpose. It would’ve been a bit more alarming if he did have a clutter of stuff around. 

Once he was done with ridding himself of his protective wear, he watched you walk about his place in slight awe. He tried to fight it, but felt a sense of achievement with how enamored you were with his home. It seemed that everything was to your liking after all. He wasn’t worried in the slightest because he didn’t care, but he did wonder what you would think about his place. He worked hard to make it as comfortable as possible. For him, of course. Not you.

Made sure that the house itself was stable enough since it was sitting in a tree. It could also get a bit colder than living on the ground or closer to it so he brought in a bunch of fur to keep himself warm and to combat the cold temperatures that blew in through the night.

He had to admit. He’d done a pretty good job.

“Do you have somewhere where I can get out of these clothes?” You asked him, cringing as you picked at your shirt, “These are wet, and I don’t want to sleep in wet clothes.”

He didn’t understand what you were asking him. Sure, your word choices sounded a bit strange to him, but it was the context of your question that he just didn’t get. Did you mean somewhere to change your clothing? That was a silly question. He almost laughed.

“You are standing in it.”

The moment you understood what he meant, you sent a weird look, “Here? Like…right here?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

You felt warmth from your neck build up towards your face. Of course you were meant to undress right in the middle of the floor. The na’vi were not shy when it came to the body. They didn’t see a need to hide themselves away. It made sense, but you weren’t one of them. You weren’t raised with that sort of mindset so you felt more conscious of your body. Stripping in front of him, again, was something you couldn’t do. You’d done it back in the hut earlier, but that was for good reason. Now, however…

Neteyam sighed before he turned around, rolling his eyes, “Change, woman. I would like to sleep at some point.”

Irritated by his sudden change in attitude, you grumbled bitterly under your breath as you pulled your shirt back off and began fumbling with your pants. After stripping down to your bra and underwear, you laid your clothes out to dry in a corner and noticed the furs next to it. Glancing back at Neteyam, happy to find his back still facing you, you grabbed one and put it up against your body to shield yourself. 

“Okay. Done.”

He turned around, and smirked at you, “Hiding yourself?” He began walking towards you, “Don’t misunderstand. I do not lust for you, tawtute,” he leaned down, close to your burning face, eyes darkening, “Your body does not attract me, trust me.”

You squeaked when his arm brushed past yours, reaching behind you. He grabbed the rest of the furs there, and walked away from you. 

“You should sleep,” he commented over his shoulder as he began making a place on the floor to sleep for the night, “Long day, tomorrow. Rest.”

As he worked on fixing up his bed, you bit into your lip, and decided to sleep near the corner — as far away from him as possible. 

The air was thick with tension, it felt like it was crawling up and down your spine no matter how far you were from him. You laid down, choosing to stare up at the ceiling. There was shuffling to your left, and you caught Neteyam settling down on his fur, giving you the view of his back once more. With a quiet huff, you turned your attention back to the ceiling. The day’s events replayed in your head, over and over. How you got here, wondering how long it would be before you were back at the outpost, in your own cozy bed. 

It all happened in a blur. Losing Theo, getting lost, meeting Neteyam and Kanu, meeting his angry mother and legendary father and laying under the same roof as him. If you thought about it too much, you’d feel like the room was spinning. So much had happened within the span of a few hours. It almost felt like a dream. 

All you wanted was to be back at the lab. Safe and sound, and away from the very man that slept a few feet away from you. Someone who didn’t want you near him in the first place.

You frowned at his sleeping form, wondering why he had insisted that you slept with him anyway. Especially if he hated you so much. Why did he care where you slept? You weren’t his responsibility. It didn’t make any sense.

You would’ve much rather spent the night with Kanu, but he had disappeared earlier on. You couldn’t help but wonder why he’d left so early, but then again, it was none of your business. You didn’t exactly know him that well (or really, at all).

It was late, and you grew tired of thinking. Neteyam was right about one thing. You needed to rest. Too much had happened in one day, and the medicine that Mo’at had you drink before you left her hut was starting to kick in. You could feel the drowsiness lurking up on you, and decided to not fight it.

The moment you’d fallen asleep, Neteyam knew. For some reason, his body wouldn’t allow him to sleep until you did. It kept him up to make sure you were able to sleep, which was strange to him. He didn’t understand why it mattered. You seemed cozy in your little corner. Why did he feel worried about you? 

Aggravated by this connection he seemed to be having with you, he drew his fur up and over his head to hopefully block you out entirely.

Except, it didn’t seem to work. Sometimes he hated to have heightened hearing.

He could hear your teeth chattering, and your sniffling. 

He sighed. It sounded like you had a runny nose. 

Great.

He willed his body to ignore you, but it was hard. Very hard. Especially when you sneezed. He cursed under his breath. On top of your injuries, you did not need to go and get sick on him. That would only prolong your stay, and he was fighting hard to get you out of the village within, at least, a day or two. If you got sick, he was positive his father would allow you to stay for more than that. He couldn’t handle it. Especially with his mother still angry about you being around in the first place. 

Sucking up his pride, he pushed back the fur blankets and stood up with a grunt. He needed to fix this before it became a situation. His life was already stressful. He didn’t need you to continue adding on to it.

Standing over you, he took in a breath. He knew what he had to do. Your form visibly shivered under the single fur blanket you had on top of you. Other than that, you were just laying on the wooden flooring. He winced. It couldn’t have been comfortable, and of course you were shivering. The blanket wasn’t doing much to keep you warm. If anything, it was sending mixed signals to your brain making you believe you were comfortable enough to sleep, but was freezing you out at the same time. 

“Okay, little one,” He bent down and carefully scooped you into his arms. Thankfully, you were deeply asleep and didn’t wake up. “Let’s get you warm.”

Your slight squirming didn’t bother him as he set you down on his makeshift bed of fur, and noted that it was warm because he’d been laying in it. You almost cracked a smile watching the way you snuggled against the bedding, but you were still shaking. He frowned, and covered you with the rest of the fur. Hopefully, now that he had placed you somewhere with more covering, that would fix the issue.

He was wrong.

You whimpered, and tried to press yourself further into the bedding, subconsciously seeking more of the warmth that was slowly dulling out now that his body heat was gone.

Neteyam feared this was something he’d end up having to do. 

Swallowing his pride, he lifted the blankets and slipped inside with you. His first mind had been right. He’d have to sleep with you, right next to you, in order for you to get warm. You needed to leech off of his body heat and if that was going to solve the problem, then why not?

He just didn’t foresee you scooting closer to him until you were pressed right up against his back. He felt your cold fingertips against his warm skin, and let out a breath. You were freezing, just like he had suspected. Your touch was too cold to be normal so he turned around, and wrapped his arms around your tiny figure, bringing you against his chest. Your teeth continued to chatter and your whimpering didn’t stop until after Neteyam could feel himself slowly falling to sleep. You’d gone silent, and when he looked down, he could tell that you were finally warm. 

He lifted a finger to your nose, and felt that it was dry now. No runny nose. Your body was also warming up. He knew that he didn’t need to continue holding you this way, but he couldn’t let you go. It felt…nice having you so close to him. 

Your scent traveled into his nose again, and he mentally groaned. Not this again. What bad timing, at that. 

He softly trailed his nose from the shell of your ear, to your neck. He took in a slow inhale, and let it out, his warm breath coating your skin. You smelled as sweet and as intoxicating as earlier. If not more now. 

His body wanted more. 

You made a small noise from the back of your throat but otherwise, continued to sleep. He let one of his hands slide from the middle of your back down, close to the swell of your ass. He needed to gain control of himself, but there you were, nearly naked and pressed against his own half naked body. How could he resist? It was like you’d been served to him on a silver platter.

Who was he if he didn’t indulge just a little bit?

“Oeya tawtute,” he growled against your skin, fangs itching to dip into you. He felt an aggressive need to mark you, to make sure that once you left the house, everyone knew you were marked by him. Especially his annoying best friend, Kanu. How Neteyam desperately wanted to see the look on his face once he saw the mark. He’d know to not come near you ever again. That you were his, and no one else’s.

“Neteyam?” You called in a groggy voice, trying to blink the sleepiness away. You’d felt something warm against your neck, but couldn’t figure out what it was. You knew that he’d taken you to his bed to get you warm, but you didn’t expect anything else to happen. You’d been grateful for his kindness, but this…

Your eyes popped open. This was similar to earlier when he’d had you in the tree. When he held you against him, nosing your neck and acting all strange. You went rigid. Now that the two of you were alone and half naked in the same bed, there was no telling what was going to happen. 

“Hey,” you tried to push him back, but he was stronger. He nipped at your neck, pulling a choked gasp from your throat, “Neteyam, wait–”

“No,” He told you before he pushed you on your back, climbing on top of you. The first thing you noticed was how dark his eyes had gotten. They’d been such a bright and warm amber earlier, but now… They looked different. Much different. “You are mine. Not his.”

His voice was deeper as well. He didn’t even look like the same person from before. His fangs appeared longer, and his grip on your waist would’ve hurt if you weren’t so turned on by the entire shift of his personality. What was going on?

And who the hell was he even talking about? 

“I think you’re dreaming? I don’t know what you’re talking about, but–”

He hissed before he got off of you. He scooted away from you, panting, trying to get himself under control. You laid there, blinking up at the ceiling in confusion. What just happened? 

His back was facing you when you sat up on an elbow, looking at him. Even though you didn’t quite understand what he had going on, you still didn’t think it was a good idea to get upset about it. Especially when it seemed like it was something fragile and personal going on. You could always ask him about it later, but right now, it was best to try and sleep it off. 

You chose to not say anything, and turned on your side, away from him. It didn’t look like he wanted to talk anyway, and you weren’t going to force him to. 

Neteyam felt like his head was spinning on his shoulders. He couldn’t figure out what happened to him just now, but he feared that things with you would only get worse the longer he went without talking to his grandmother about what was going on. Only she would know what to do to help him with his little…problem.

He huffed to himself, and forcibly closed his eyes. If he forgot that you were only an inch away from him, he could probably get proper sleep tonight. It sounded easier said than done, though. Just moments ago, he’d been on top of you. You were looking at him with such fear that it woke up his arousal. He could’ve done anything to you, and you wouldn’t have been able to do a thing to stop him. Probably would’ve quelled the hunger he could deep within him, but not only was his gentlemen but he was also rational. A realist. It would’ve been wrong, and he was not someone that laid with someone that didn’t want to be with him. The connection needed to be mutual. Still, this…thing between you and him — it was different. It was hard to silence. 

However, he could keep fighting it back. He had to.

Feeling your feet slide up his leg by accident made his tail hit the floor rather hard. His body went rigid. 

He knew, in that moment, it was going to prove to be more of a challenge than he thought.

taglist: [if you are not listed, i reached my limit, sorryy 😭]

@powowowy @daydreamerbunny @itzmariaa777 @suntizme @neteyamforlife @blushhpeachh @makeup-stuff-and-such @ilovejakesullysdick @fantasico @iwanttohitmyself @mashiromochi @mae-is-crazy @lovekeeho @tpwkstiles @jellybeanstacey0519 @squidalapobre @crazy4books1 @hmt09 @danyxthirstae01 @desatando-me @zoetrope1997 @bajadotcom @maweysworld @ancientbeing10 @filmneteyam @kage-yaa @llearlert @jakesully-sbabygirl @dia-nne @reggiesslut @cerya @coldheartedmar @jdbxws @anxietydrogz @stillinracooncity @kyunasully @liluvtojineteyam @shadytalething @willowpains @itssomeonereading @luvvfromme @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @lordeleviathan @cleverzonkwombatsludge @love13tter @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @dreamtogether2000 @jjkclub @lyramundana

end notes: i just want to say thank you for all the support, i am still processing the amount of ppl that want to see this series continue bc i doubted myself a pretty long time before posting this :”) smooches to every single one of you, it’s made me so so happy istg, expect another update next week, xoxo

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

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growing sideways

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader

summary: kuroo tetsurou is all grown up. you think you might have to learn to let him go. or: an exploration of love, and loving things.

note: sorry that it's been so long!! college has been so silly funny goofy (derogatory) but i'm on break now and pretending that i dno't have to go back in a week.

sort of spoilers for occupations (kuroo, kenma, yaku) post-timeskip! (but also doesn’t really follow canonical futures… sort of a mess, to be honest.) my attempt at reconciling what i’d hoped for him and what he becomes.  title taken from a noah kahan song of the same name that has next to nothing to do with the actual fic.

cw: mention of throwing up (doesn’t actually happen, though)

___

When Kuroo Tetsurou gets scouted to a professional team in Russia, you’re the last person he tells. Technically, he doesn’t tell you at all – it’s Kenma who does, blinking up at you from behind a curtain of his hair.

“I thought he’d told you already,” he says, voice as apologetic as you’ve ever heard it, which is to say apathetic, as always, but with a dash of sympathy mixed in.

“No,” you say, because there’s nothing else left you can say. “He didn’t.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything, shifting his focus back to his game. You take the moment he offers you to exhale, quietly. To resituate yourself around this new hurt in your chest.

“Does everyone else know?” you ask. Kenma lifts one of his shoulders up, a half-shrug.

“Maybe not his mom,” he offers. This is poor consolation, and both of you know it – Kuroo hasn’t talked to his mother beyond stilted platitudes in years, not since she uprooted her life and his sister and half his chest and taken it with her, leaving a husband, a son, and a house with too many rooms.

“So he’s gonna take it, then,” you say. Kuroo is a lot of things – mercurial, bright, a pain in the ass when he puts his mind to it – but everyone knows that first and foremost, he’s a volleyball player. You’d realized it for yourself, back in your first year of university, when one of your friends had dragged you to a match and you’d spotted him, arms outstretched, fingers splayed and braced as if he thought he could hold a sun in his hands. When he’d landed, you’d caught sight of his grin, almost too large for his face.

Ah, you’d thought. So this is what it means to love something.

The next morning, at your eight-thirty introductory economics lecture, you’d shuffled in and put your head down on the desk, drifting closer and closer to sleep every second. 

Then the person behind you had poked you, hard, and you’d let out a half-scream, jolting up in your seat in a way that made every single person in your lecture hall, including your professor, look at you.

The person behind you had started laughing – an ugly laugh, cackling like a hyena, the kind of laugh that made you want to join in, despite your burning embarrassment. You’d swiveled around to face him as the professor resumed his lecturing.

“What is wrong with you,” you’d hissed. It was the boy from yesterday– the middle blocker with the awful hair.

He’d raised his hands up in surrender, although there was still a crooked grin on his face. “Sorry, sorry,” he’d said. “Just was wondering if you had a pencil.”

“You know,” you’d said, fishing one from your bag. “There are easier ways to ask people for a pencil than giving them heart attacks.”

You’d passed the pencil to him, and he’d given you a jaunty little salute with it, one that made your lips curl up despite yourself. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he’d said, and you’d turned back around again, and that was that.

Except the next lecture, you’d arrived at your usual seat to find a disposable cup of coffee there, likely from the little cafe downstairs. You’d turned to the boy behind you, raising your eyebrows.

“As a thank you,” he’d shrugged, leaning back in his chair in a way you’d suspected was meant to be cool and casual. “And also so that you don’t keep falling asleep in lecture.”

“How do you know I’ve been falling asleep in lecture,” you’d said, a little grumpily, pulling the cup towards you and taking a sip nonetheless. It wasn’t your usual order, but it was drinkable, and if you were being honest, you’d need all the caffeine you could get.

He’d watched you take a sip of the drink, a pleased smile playing on his face. “I sit right behind you. I’ve seen you take a nap at your desk every single week.” 

“I’ll have you know that that’s just the posture I learn best in,” you’d sniffed.

“What, drooling?”

“I do not drool,” you’d said, haughty. “And even if I did, how would you even know? You’re such a stalker.”

“Harsh,” he’d whistled, although the smile didn’t leave his face. “I’m just observant.”

You’d rolled your eyes at him, swiveling around to face the front of the room as the professor began his lecture. And if you’d managed – for the first time this entire semester – to make it all the way through without falling asleep, well, that was nobody’s business but your own.

The next week, another cup was waiting for you. 

“You know,” you’d said, “I think you’ve repaid your debt from the pencil in full.”

“Oh, this isn’t about the pencil,” he’d replied. “I didn’t get the right order for you last week, did I? I wanted to try again this time.”

You’d blinked at him. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Kuroo,” he’d said. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Well, Kuroo Tetsurou,” you’d said, “did you ever think about just asking me for my order?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he’d asked.

The drinks kept coming, every week, without fail, ranging from plain to ridiculously extravagant. He still hadn’t gotten your order, although at some point during the semester, he’d migrated from sitting behind you to sitting right next to you, passing you stupid notes and doodling all over your notebooks.

The last lecture’s drink was wrong, again, although you kept drinking it anyways. “You should come hang out with me and my friends sometime,” he’d said, sudden, and you’d nearly choked.

“What brought this on?”

“I dunno,” he’d said, uncharacteristically shy, looking away from you. “You know when you meet some people and it’s just like, they’re meant to be in my life, so you have to try really hard to not let them go?”

“So making a girl scream during lecture is your idea of an ideal introduction,” you’d said, and he’d rolled his eyes, leaning over to lightly push at your shoulder.

“You know what I mean.”

“I saw one of your volleyball matches,” you’d told him. Suddenly you’d wanted him to know. “At the beginning of the semester. Before we’d met.”

He seemed to understand what you were trying to say.  “What’d you think?” 

“You must really love it,” you’d said. “Playing volleyball.”

“I do.”

“Well, then, Kuroo-kun. I’ll come meet your friends, under one condition.” He’d raised his eyebrows at you, expectantly.

“I get to tell you my coffee order,” you’d said. “Some of these drinks are becoming downright disgusting.”

“You drink them anyway,” he’d replied. “But I suppose that’s a fair trade.”

You’d grinned at him, and he’d grinned back, and it’d all gone from there. 

You’ve known since you started talking to him that Kuroo is a natural at getting people to orbit around him. He draws people near – crooked grin, warm eyes, quick wit – and then holds them there, at arm’s length, never quite letting them get any closer. You’d thought, perhaps, that you could be an exception to this. That he’d seen something in you that was enough for him to want to let you in. To pull you close. The thing is this: in your heart of hearts you are a romantic, and to you Kuroo has always been a little like the sun, like tilting your face towards the golden wash of afternoon and remembering, soft and gentle like falling into something, So this is what it is to love.

“I don’t know,” Kenma says, and you look at him looking at his game. He is, out of anyone, the most likely to understand how you feel: the air knocked out of you, leaving you gasping and breathless . But he has the reassurance of more than a decade of friendship behind him, built on neighboring houses and the squeak of shoes on a gymnasium floor. Some days you feel like what you have with Kuroo is fragile and insubstantial, playing-card houses on a precarious surface. Like if he left he’d take it all with him.

“Of course he’s going to take it,” you say past the lump in your throat. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything, but the little sound effects from his game pause. He blinks up at you through his bangs.

“We should throw him a party,” you say. “Or something. To celebrate.”

“If you think that’s a good idea,” he says, noncommittal. 

There is an ache in your chest and you think that once you leave Kenma’s apartment you won’t be able to stop yourself from crying. “Of course it’s a good idea. You know how much Kuroo loves having everyone he loves in one place.”

“That’s exactly the thing,” Kenma murmurs, but you don’t hear him, already pulling out your phone to make a list.

“Invites, decorations, food… Oh! Kenma, do you think Kuroo would like it if we made him saba? Or went out to a restaurant that specializes?”

“Probably,” he says. The game resumes. “He’s always going on about doca-something acid.”

“Docosahexaenoic acid,” you correct absently, scrolling through a list of nearby restaurants. Kuroo’s talked about it enough – and despite your better judgment, you’ve listened to his rants enough times – for you to remember the name in full. 

You miss the look that Kenma gives you, exasperatedly fond.

It turns out that Kuroo knows a lot of people. Even more than you’d thought. There are the guys that he plays with on the volleyball team, of course, but then there’s also his other business major friends and the other undergraduates who work in the same lab that he does in his free time (because of course he’d be the type of person to do that.) Then there’s the neighbors he’d had freshman year and still miraculously keeps in touch with, and the ones from sophomore year. Then Kenma casually mentions that Kuroo still frequently talks to everyone from his volleyball team his third year of high school, and you have to beg him to let you use his phone and ensure that everyone from there will be able to attend.

Then there’s the issue of getting enough food: you know from prior experience that volleyball players can eat, and there’s a part of you that worries that the budget you’ve scraped together from whatever your friends managed to donate won’t be enough for one of them, let alone the stampede you’re about to invite into your apartment. And besides, there’s decorations to think about, and maybe a present for Kuroo, and maybe it would be cute if you could get one of those places that rents out cats to send over a couple – do those places actually exist or was the whole thing just a stress-induced hallucination? Either way, the stress of budgeting is enough to make you understand why Kuroo had succumbed to his base capitalistic tendencies and become a business major. You’ll never be able to make fun of him for it again.

Kenma solves this problem readily enough, extending a credit card towards you with barely any hesitation when you mention it in passing.

“Stop stressing out,” he mutters. “It’ll be okay. Kuro’s not the kind who’d care about things like that.”

You blink at him. He determinedly avoids your eyes. “Kenma,” you say. “You know what I have to do, don’t you.”

He sighs, setting down his game. “If you must.”

You launch yourself at him in a bone-crushing hug, and although you hear him click his tongue at you, you can also feel the way his hands come up to rest on your back, soft and steady. 

“He asked me if I’d seen you around recently,” Kenma mentions when you separate.

“What did you say?”

“Said you seemed busy. He said he hadn’t seen you and was worried he’d done something.”

There isn’t much to say back to that. You busy yourself by picking at one of the threads in your shirtsleeves.

Kenma says your name. 

“I know,” you say. “I know. I just – I don’t know.”

Kuroo has many smiles, you know. There’s the one when he’s trying to get a rise out of someone, lazy and lean. There’s the one when he sees a cute animal or a small child or the old lady you always run into the market, the one that reminds him of his obaa-chan. There’s the one he gets when he sees you, sometimes, and doesn’t realize that you’re seeing him back, small and fond in a way that makes you a little afraid, sometimes. At the enormity of it. At how fragile it seems, some days. At what it could become, if given the chance.

And there’s the one he has when he’s playing volleyball, the one that makes his eyes go all squinty; the one that’s a little too large, just on this side of feral, because he’s so happy that he doesn’t remember to think about things like presentability and not scaring the people around him, both on his side and the other side of the net. The one he has when he hits a kill block, or a no-touch ace. 

You don’t think you could stand to take that from him.

“I’ve just been busy. With the party planning, and all,” you finish, meekly. You know he knows you’re lying. Still, Kenma doesn’t push.

“If you say so,” he hums, turning back to his computer. “It seemed like he missed you, though.”

You hate yourself for the small spark of want that blooms in your chest. 

Kuroo Tetsurou, in another life, could probably be yours. You’ve seen the way his ears turn red sometimes when you press a little too close, thighs close enough to be touching at one of the tables of your favorite izakaya. You know he knows your favorites the same way that he knows his own, know that in his head there’s a file of nothing but his knowledge about you, filled to bursting. You know that there are days, hours, moments where his touch lingers on your wrist, your cheek, the back of your arm – never long enough to presume, just long enough for you to notice.

In this life, you’ve seen the way he plays volleyball clearly enough to know that he loves it. That in terms of paths, this is probably the most natural one for him, as easy as breathing. That the world is so big and he deserves to go out and see it, that he’s growing up and some days you feel in your bones that he’s leaving you behind, in the same way that you’d left behind the yellow rubber rainboots you’d adored as a child, outgrown and overworn.

You busy yourself with party planning, so that at least everyone except Kuroo knows that you have a valid reason for ignoring him. Once the budgeting crisis is averted, things go surprisingly smoothly: money really does make the world go round, you think, in a rare moment of reflection between arguing with the caterer and double-checking that you have enough chairs in your apartment.

It’s good, to keep busy. Drowns out your heartbeat in your ears. He’s leaving, he’s leaving, he’s leaving. He’s leaving and you’re not gonna even ask him to stay.

The day of the party is bright and clear, because the universe loves Kuroo in the same way that you do. Bokuto – one of Kuroo’s teammates, and one of your favorites out of all of Kuroo’s teammates (although you’ve long maintained that it would be difficult for Bokuto not to be anyone’s favorite) – is tasked with distracting Kuroo for the day, then leading him to your apartment. This is a good plan because Bokuto is, himself, easily distractible, and Kuroo is, more often than not, perfectly willing to go along with Bokuto’s distractions. However, this is also a bad plan because Bokuto is, out of everyone you’ve invited, perhaps the second-most likely person to spoil the plans for the party. (The first being Lev Haiba, naturally.) To counterbalance that, you’ve asked Akaashi Keiji, one of your juniors, to go along – he has a natural talent for keeping Bokuto in check, more so than anyone you’ve ever met. But you’d feel bad, leaving Akaashi alone to deal with the two of them like that, so to ensure your plan had the greatest chance of success possible, you convince (read: bribed) Kenma to go along with the three of them. Odds are good that he won’t do much to curb Kuroo and Bokuto, but you’re willing to hope that his presence will keep Kuroo from doing something completely insane.

Back in your apartment, you’re adding the last finishing touches to the streamers hanging in the doorway. Yaku, next to you, squints at the streamers. “They’re a little crooked,” he says.

You bite back your immediate response, which is to tell him that if you had a stepladder tall enough that he could reach you’d gladly go get it for him so he could fix them himself. Instead, you ask, “How is it, over there, Yakkun?”

“In Russia?” he asks, and you nod. He pauses, considering. “It was rough, at first.”

“But you got through it,” you say, voice coming out a little more desperately than you’d like. “You like it there now.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It won’t ever be Japan, but I think I can make it home. And Kuroo’s always been able to land on his feet, wherever it goes. I don’t think you need to worry about him, even if he does decide to take the offer.”

“Of course he’s going to take the offer,” you say. “Why wouldn’t he –”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You take it out to read a text from Akaashi. Heading back, it says. Be there in three.

Hurriedly, you jam your phone back into your pocket. “Okay, everyone, places!” you call, watching with a critical eye as everyone tucks themselves away.

“Lev, that’s not gonna work. Hiding behind the lamp’s not gonna do much.”

“Idiot,” you hear someone – Yaku? – mutter, and you laugh a little despite yourself. Your phone buzzes again. In the elevator, you read, and hastily you dive underneath a table with one of Kuroo’s kouhai from high school – Fukunaga, you think – to hide yourself, just as you hear the sound of a key in a lock. 

“I just don’t understand why she’d ask you to take care of her plants,” Kuroo says as he steps through the door, sounding a little bemused. “I mean, I love you, bro, but I still haven’t forgotten what happened that one time –”

Three, two, one, you mouth silently, holding your fingers out where everyone can see them, then –

“Surprise!” you call out, stepping out of your hiding place. The others all scramble to follow, adding their own voices to the chorus.

It is, to your delight, one of the few times you’ve seen Kuroo properly surprised, enough that he actually staggers back a step, eyes wide. 

“What – how – when – what is this for?” he asks, directing his question to you, standing right in front of him.

“To say congratulations, Kuroo,” you reply. Suddenly your throat is a little dry. “On getting the offer.”

This time his eyes widen with realization – and maybe a little flash of guilt. He covers it quickly, though, and you’re left a little uncertain, like stepping on uneven ground. 

“So you didn’t actually ask Bokuto to take care of your plants,” he says instead, and you laugh. The sound is a little brittle in your ears.

“Of course not,” you say. “I haven’t forgotten that one time when he –”

“Did I mention we have cake?” Bokuto swoops in. “I picked out the flavor myself and everything. You gotta come see it. The lady at the store was so nice, though I don’t think she understand exactly what I was asking her to put on it at first –”

With a wry eye roll to you, Kuroo lets himself be dragged away. The rest of the partygoers take it as their sign to start mingling, and you let yourself fade into the chatter, becoming nothing more than background noise. It fits uncomfortably, now, where before it might have been a little more natural. Kuroo has always been good at creating space intentionally, whether it be for you or anyone else: a sly smirk for your eyes only, a joke directed towards you and you alone. It’s one of the reasons why you think everyone feels like they can fall into his orbit more effortlessly. 

Kenma appears by your side, unobtrusive as usual. “You should talk to him.”

“And say what?”

“Whatever you want.”

There is a want in your throat and it chokes you. I want you to stay. I know you should go. I’m terrified that I’ll never see you again, either way – if I made you stay and you resented it, if I let you leave and you loved it. 

“I’m worried that he’s getting bored here,” you say instead. “Like it’s not challenging him enough. Like he wants more.”

There are things that you’re willing to admit you can be slightly paranoid about: like putting too much of your heart on the table, like finding someone who loves all of you but the worst parts. Like loving someone and watching them start to resent you, like wanting to learn how to love in the right way but really only learning how to suffocate. And you know it’s possible that in this could be a combination of all those things, that rationally Kuroo knows better than anyone what’s his to keep and what’s his to give away. But you’ve known him for so long now, and there’s a part of you that likes to think you know him better than almost anyone in the world. It’s that part of you that insists you can see Kuroo Tetsurou getting tired, a little bit. He walks off the court with his head tilted back, eyes closed against the glaring lights on the gymnasium, far above. When he looms over the net, you think of it as less a state of being and more of a conscious action: a weary sigh. Another day at work. 

Kuroo Tetsurou, you think, is learning to want new things. To love new things. And that’s okay – that’s more than okay. There’s just a selfish part of you that wishes you could be there to see him through it. 

Kenma hasn’t said anything, staring at you patiently. You think you might throw up.

“I have to go,” you say, limp, and spin on your heel to slip out the back door. Somewhere behind you, Bokuto’s cheers rise above the din, followed by Kuroo’s cackling laugh. It makes your chest ache a little, but at the very least it provides you with some cover.

Your little apartment building stands at an intersection between two streets. Turn right and you’ll get to the park with the stray cats, the ones who’ve started coming around more frequently now that Kuroo has started showing up (now that Kuroo has started bringing them treats, although he denies it every time you bring it up.) Turn left and walk far enough and there’s a little embankment that slopes down to a river. Sometimes in the mornings joggers will pass through the area, but in the dead of the night like it is now the grassy slope is deserted. You sink down onto it, ignoring the way the cold sinks into your skin.

Part of you wants to cry. Most of you is glad you aren’t: can’t, maybe, or won’t. 

You tell yourself the grand lesson in this is that you have to be better at letting go. That there is a lot that your hands could hold – a lot that your hands could want to hold, given the time. Given the opportunity – but not all of it is meant to be held by you. That there is a whole world out there and tonight it feels like it’s slipping through your fingers.

Perhaps the grand lesson is just this: that loss exists. That wanting perseveres.

“Hey,” a voice says from behind you. You know without turning who it is, fingers tightening in the grass.

“Hey,” you say back.

“Can I sit?”

You wave a hand listlessly at the space beside you. “There’s space available.”

He settles in next to you, close enough that your thighs could brush if you were a little more careless, if you hadn’t been holding yourself strung tight and stiff.

“Why aren’t you in there?” you ask finally, when it becomes clear that he has no intention of saying anything, that he’s planning on waiting until you start first. “It’s your party.”

“Why aren’t you in there?” he counters. “You planned it.”

“It was a little loud,” you offer. “Was getting a little sleepy.”

“You weren’t there anymore,” he says. “Kenma said he saw you heading out.”

The words stick in the hollow of your throat, between your collarbones. You can feel them lodged there. “Kuroo,” you say, careful to not let your voice shake, “you can’t say things like that.”

There’s a hand on your knee, long fingers and broad palms spreading over your skin easily. His hand is warm. You direct your gaze down to it. His hand is big enough that it nearly covers your knee.

“Why not?”

“It’s not fair,” you say. “I know you’re not that stupid, Kuroo. You can’t go saying things like that when you’re about to leave.”

He says your name, sharp and soft.

“And of course I’m happy you’re going. I know you’re not happy – not as happy here as you could be. I know it’s an incredible opportunity. I know you deserve it, and you deserve every incredible thing that comes your way. Or at least – I want to be happy for you, Kuroo. I want to be able to give you that much, at least.”

He says your name again. It sounds fond enough that you gain the courage to look up at him. He’s looking right at you. The hand on your knee reaches for your jaw, instead, cradling it tenderly.

“I think I’m gonna stay,” he says. “And I’m sorry for not telling you about the offer earlier. I just – I didn’t want you to think I was leaving. I wasn’t even sure if I was, at first. But then I kept coming back to it – the fact that I didn’t want you to think I was leaving. Not at all, not even a possibility. It made me realize that – well. Russia would be incredible. But I think – I know – I would rather stay.”

The words take a moment to sort themselves out in your brain. Then:

“Kuroo, you can’t,” you choke out. “This is your dream.”

“It was,” he says. “For the longest time, it was. And I thought it was something I had to keep loving. Something that I had to pursue. Like I would be doing a disservice to the me I was when I was little, if I decided I didn’t want to follow the path I’ve wanted since I first started playing volleyball.”

You say nothing. There is a sun rising in your throat. You are afraid to let it go.

“But you know,” he says, thoughtful, “I think there is a difference between loving something and being in love with something.”

“Yeah?” you say. He reaches for your hand, flipping it over from where it rests in the grass so that your palm is facing upward. Slots his fingers through the gaps between your own.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing once, twice, three times. “Like – I love volleyball, you know.”

“I know,” you say, because you do.

“But I’m in love with it here. With Japan. With the connections I’ve made, with the people who keep me here.”

“I’m glad,” you say, because you are, selfishly so.

“And,” he says, hesitant in a way that you’ve only ever seen once before, back when he was just the boy with the awful laugh and the ugly hair and who kept getting you coffee and getting it wrong, “I’m in love with you.”

And the sun, blooming over the horizon.

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IM CRYJFNNFFNNGNG I LOVEDD THIS UGH

Soft Spot

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 3k

Synopsis: Azriel is very particular about his lovers; typically hard-hearted women chosen so they don’t develop an emotional attachment. Reader is one of these lovers, except she’s the sweetest and cheeriest on his roster. This causes Az to begin breaking his rules about intimacy, especially when she unwittingly ends up at his home for work one evening and spends the night.  

Warnings: Smut

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Azriel Shadowsinger. Methodical, efficient, focused. Rigid dietary habits, discipline in training, unwavering proficiency in espionage. The spies he trained were held to that level of diligence—hell, even the priestesses he oversaw knew he expected order even in his absence.

That detail orientation carried over to his sex life. The lovers he sought were deliberately chosen to allow him to maintain the level of control he desired. Women that understood what he wanted—how he wanted them. Women that didn’t grow emotionally attached, that understood it was purely a physical transaction. Women that he could keep from his busybody family, situated in parts of Velaris that weren’t in their usual line of frequenting.

Azriel found a positive correlation between softer, sweeter women, and their likelihood to form emotional attachment, and an equally positive correlation between women who fucked rougher, who were colder, more jaded, and their ability to remain unattached. Those who didn’t demand he slept over after, that he take them to dinner.

You were the closest thing to an exception, being the cheeriest on the roster, yet you never displayed any attachment to him. Never looked disappointed when he left without eating breakfast. That was one of the things he liked most about you; you were lively—more than any of his other lovers—so he could enjoy the more girlishly charming, satiating parts you offered, but you stayed within the limit of his preferred emotional detachment. It was like a controlled dosage of indulgence.

Keep reading

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sorry to all badass!reader enjoyers 😔 I like when my reader is a bit pathetic, a bit introverted, morally ambiguous, skittish, lachrymose and a little mopey, down on her luck but doing her best, and hellbent on keeping out of everyone's way

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 ｡

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