summary: On the verge of failing Potions thanks to your idiotic lab partner and Quidditch rival Draco Malfoy, the two of you are forced to sneak into the greenhouse at night for a final ingredient, only to stumble into some strange plants along the way.
tags: 18+ MDNI, [sex pollen] [enemies to lovers] [quidditch rivals] [eighth-year at hogwarts] [mutual masturbation] [dubcon but only because it's sex pollen lol ] [oral sex] [malfoy whimpers] [hate sex] [switchy] [penetrative sex] [multiple orgasms]
author's note: It felt weird not writing Draco & Snitch from Lessons in Losing, but i hope you like Nineteen :) Title is inspired by the song Fatal Attraction by Reed Wonder. 9k words
“This is a terrible idea,” you hiss, rounding the corner toward the side exit of the castle.
Draco scoffs. “Like you have a better one.”
While he draws his wand from his robes, you cast another wary glance over your shoulder. The hallway is empty behind you, lit with dim floating candles. The castle sleeps, blissfully unaware of the plans you and your Quidditch rival have in store tonight.
Sadly, you don't. Have a better plan, that is. That's why you're out after curfew, dodging prefects and paintings like it's your full-time job.
"There's just got to be another way," you say, checking behind you again.
"There's not. Unless you count failing an option. You want to fail tomorrow, Nineteen?”
Draco Malfoy has never called you by your real name—only your Quidditch number. Because that’s all you are to him. Not a person. Just an obstacle on the pitch. But you know the truth: you’re the only Seeker in the entire school who gives him a run for his money.
“No—but I think it’s important for you to remember how it’s your fault we’re in this predicament in the first place!”
“I beg to differ,” Draco says, opening the door with a flick of his wand and stepping out into the night. “I’m quite good at potions.”
You rush to slip after him before the door swings shut behind you with a heavy thud.
Prick.
You’re not sure why Draco really even gives a shit about this assignment. All he cares about is winning Quidditch matches and getting the hell out of this school.
And why should he care?
It’s not like anything bad will happen to him if he gets one bad grade. You, on the other hand, have a bit more to lose. As a trainee healer, you need to score well on the NEWTs this year to secure your spot in the coveted apprentice slots. Needless to say, failing your Potions final just simply isn’t an option.
The air outside is muggy and warm—an unusually humid night for early April. The sky is clear, though, boasting a bright full moon. A perfect night for harvesting a nocturnal plant. An owl hoots somewhere in the Forbidden Forest beyond, and the tall grass tickles your ankles as you make your way to the cluster of greenhouses on the grounds.
You yank on Draco's sleeve as he walks straight past the entrance to Greenhouse Three.
He shrugs off your hand and gestures impatiently to the latticed door. “Hurry up and open it.”
“One of us should stay on the lookout,” you huff. Your fingers brush your wand in your pocket. “I’ll go and grab the sample, and you signal me if there’s any—”
“Wait.” He stops you. “Why do you get to go inside?”
You stare at him, jaw slack. “Because I’m the healer?”
“Not yet, you’re not.”
Sometimes, you take comfort in your fantasies about Draco Malfoy.
You’re up to ten different ways you might be able to knock him off his broom. Make him suffer in a way he never saw coming. And thanks to that comment, you’re now trying to come up with the eleventh.
“Why don’t you be the lookout, and I retrieve the sample?” He asks pointedly.
You sigh, irritated. “Because, Malfoy, I don’t trust you to get an accurate sample, okay? You couldn’t even keep our original sprig alive long enough for us to use it tomorrow!”
“You know, that’s a good point.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Perhaps I don’t trust you, either. You know, we never did specify which of us was supposed to give the plant the appropriate amount of moonlight…”
You squint up at him. “Oh? We didn’t? That’s right. Maybe that’s because when we got assigned this potion, I stole the Snitch from under your nose at finals, and you didn’t speak to me for a week!”
Normally, you wouldn't complain about that. Being Quidditch rivals was one thing. Mouthing off to each other on the Pitch? That was a given. Outside of that, you didn't talk. It was a hard line.
That week just happened to be the one week you actually needed him to speak to you.
Because while he was busy trying to salvage his pride and keep his ego somewhat intact, you were actually doing all the heavy lifting for the assignment in Potions. The one Snape assigned to the both of you.
He huffs, irritated. He’s obviously annoyed you keep bringing that loss of his up, but you won’t stop anytime soon.
“We both go in, or I’m out," he says, his jaw set in determination.
You weigh your options. You could probably get the sample on your own, but you’re not willing to risk getting caught by yourself. If you get caught with him, you can do the obvious.
Blame him.
Turns out, it’s not much of a decision after all.
“Fine,” you mutter through grit teeth. “Let’s just get this over with.”
You unlock the door with a few precise spins of your wand and whisper the password low enough that Malfoy can’t hear it. The door unlatches with a hiss, and a warm, earthy smell hits you in the face. It’s familiar to you, and soothing in a way.
Malfoy shifts on his feet, eager to enter, but right before he pushes the door open, you bar his chest with your arm, wand at the ready.
You level his gaze. “Whatever you do—don’t touch anything.”
He scoffs, slipping past you and through the door with a flick of his robes. “Scared of a few plants, Nineteen?” He looks over his shoulder. “Bit concerning for a future healer and all. You might not make the cut.”
He shrugs with false sympathy before disappearing into the darkness beyond.
Nevermind. Gone are the thoughts of making his death a swift and easy one. Now, you’re envisioning something longer, slower, your hands around his neck—
You wonder if he begs half as prettily as he flies.
You’ve never really understood it.
The strange utopia that is Greenhouse Three. It’s always felt more like a portal to another dimension, rather than a plant nursery. But seeing it under the night sky is an otherworldly experience.
The tall domed ceiling stretches high above you, and dimmer disks fly from their assigned pots to line the narrow walkway upon your arrival.
There’s a silence about the place, but beneath it all, something living without breathing. As you walk among the taller plants lining the path, it feels like walking through a graveyard. But instead of the bones turning to dust under the earth—they’re watching.
The Nightbell Stalk lives all the way at the back of the greenhouse, in a secret locker called the Lumen Garden. You’ve never seen this garden, given the fact that it magically appears only when the moon is at its peak, and disappears again before the sun rises. Even despite the blatant breaking of curfew, you’ve been warned never to enter, given the dangerous nature of the plants one might encounter.
But, as they say, dangerous times call for desperate measures. Or, desperate times call for dangerous measures. Something like that.
All you know is it’s as desperate as it is dangerous, or you would never be so reckless.
Soon enough, the Lumen Garden door looms over you. It’s tall and black, and it sparkles in the light of the skimmer dimmers, like it’s made of crushed black diamond.
You turn to Malfoy. “Do you have it?”
He pulls an aged piece of parchment from his pocket. You reach for it but he snatches it back just in time.
“I didn’t risk my life in the Restricted Section, so you could show off your poor Mermish,” he says.
“‘Risking your life,’” you roll your eyes, unimpressed. “As if you don’t practically live there. Get on with it, then.”
He clears his throat. You try not to watch the way his fingers carefully unfold the paper, holding it like it’s something valuable. He’s always been like that when it comes to ancient scripts.
“Vaelith mora selune,” he whispers.
By moonlight reveal.
Your pulse leaps as the scrape of stone on stone reverberates throughout the silent room, bouncing off the glass panes above you.
As the stone door rolls back, it reveals a room so beautiful it nearly takes your breath away.
Opal stones guide you forward, leading to a circular pool in the center. The water lies perfectly still, glassy and undisturbed, yet the plants rooted beneath its surface sway gently in some unseen current.
Overhead, moonlight spills through the curved glass dome, and the panes are cloudy on purpose, filtering and diffusing the moonlight into something stronger and more even.
You tiptoe onto the landing, barely noting the black mossy walls surrounding you before the stone rolls shut behind you. Malfoy’s polished shoes click decisively down the opal stones, not the least bit fased.
You swallow and follow after him. Mist rises up from the pond, and when you lean closer, curiosity pulling you in, you catch sight of movement. Thin, glowing threads streak by under the glassy surface. Jilly bugs. They help the plants thrive in the lowlight conditions.
“Keep up, will you?” Draco hisses, drawing your attention to him.
He’s standing over a garden bed beyond the pond, half swallowed by the shadowed wall behind him.
These nocturnal plants only bloom at night, and they die without it. Because of this, these plants have different colors than normal ones. Most of them are varying shades of black, purple, or blue, evolved to camouflage with the night or their natural habitats.
As you step closer, the vines come into view. There are tons of them, growing along a nearly imperceptible trellis that spans the full length of the back wall, their long stems twirling and looping, spilling out across the floor and crawling up the dome above.
You’re just reaching his side when something moves out of the corner of your eye. Your head whips towards the wall, eyes narrowing through the gray haze.
But there’s nothing. Just vines, their leaves sitting so still they could almost pass as wax.
“Where’s the bloody vial…?” Draco mutters to himself, patting down the pockets of his robes.
His features catch the light as he looks down. Your eyes drift over the edge of his nose, the slope of his brow, that strong jaw. You look away when his chin tips up.
Reaching into your pocket, you retrieve the small glass bottle, holding it out for him to see.
Draco frowns. “Thief.”
You shrug, glancing down at the Nightbell Stalk in front of you.
It’s a deep violet, with small, downward-facing flowers. Inside each one, the stems glow a faint gold. You can smell the nectar from where you stand--sweet, like honey, but heavier. Thicker.
When Malfoy reaches for the vial, you snap it back in the last second.
“I’m doing it,” you say.
“Like hell you are.” He scoffs. “Just because you’re a healer doesn’t give you the right to fuck this up. It’s my project too, you know.”
Anger sparks in your gut and you turn on him. “You haven’t given a shit about this potion the entire semester, and I’m supposed to believe you actually care now? Besides, you don’t have the experience required—”
“Oh, I have the experience. Stand aside.” He reaches for the sample vial. “I can handle something as simple as—”
You snatch it back again. “Oh, so you know that the bells ring when disturbed, so you only touch the stem. Did you know that Malfoy?”
“I—yes! I know more than—”
“So, obviously, you’d be cautious around the petals, since they’re so sticky they can leave a residue on your hands for a week.” Your lips set in a taunting line and narrow your eyes at him. “But you knew that, huh?”
Draco glares down at you. “I’m well aware of the difficulties with this plant. And by the way, I suggested this plan. So, I’ll do it.”
Your argument continues, words overlapping, while your voices ring eerily loud in the silence of the greenhouse.
Push, pull, counter, strike.
You fight the same way you fly on the pitch, chasing the same goal. Competitive to a fault.
The exact fault being that while the two of you are too busy arguing over who gets to hold the stem—and where the vial goes exactly—you don’t realize one vine unfurling from the wall behind you, growing curious in the moonlight.
“My hands are steadier,” Draco says from his place over your shoulder.
You bite your lip, ignoring the way his breath ghosts across your ear, focusing your energy on getting the ingredient.
You accidentally graze the edge of the downward-turned petal with the rim of the glass and the flowers on the Nightbell Stalk ring softly.
“Shit,” you mutter.
“You know it’s true,” he continues, voice low. “How many times have you lost the Snitch because of your poor grip, hmm? I haven’t. Not once.”
With one sharp movement of your fingers, you scoop up the drop of nectar from the stems inside. It slides down the glass, glowing a deep orange. Satisfaction curls warm under your ribs like your feline familiar back in your dorm room.
You grin. “Got it.”
Reveling in your win, you turn, ready to shove your success in his face, but the movement only presses your back further into his chest.
“Move, would you?” You bite, trying to slide around him, but the tight space doesn’t allow for much wiggle room.
He shifts to let you through, but the narrow corridor between the wall and the garden bed seems to get tighter with his body pressed against yours. Somewhere, your feet get tangled and he stumbles, sprawling back against the garden bed, which pushes you flat against the ivy wall, glaring up at him.
His head blocks the moonlight, his silhouette falling over you like a living shadow. His lips part like he might say something, and you find yourself leaning forward, waiting breathlessly, when something brushes your ankle.
You leap forward. Draco’s arm wraps around you out of instinct. The two of you stare at each other before he seems to remember who you are and drop his arm like you’ve burned him.
“Throwing yourself at me, are you?” He drawls, breaking the silent tension.
“No!” You look down at the ground, but there’s nothing there. Just mossy stone under your feet, the shadow of the vine wall at your heels. “Something just…grabbed me.”
Draco shakes his head and shoves past you. “It’s always drama with you, isn’t it?”
“I’m serious!” you snap. “It almost tripped me!”
“Ah, yes. Do me a favor and twist that pretty little ankle would you? Just secure me a win next match, thanks.”
His words make you pause, forgetting all about the mysterious touch. A smile steals across your face before you can stop it. “So, you admit I need to be taken out for you to have a shot at the Cup, then?”
He spins on the spot, a shadow etched between his brows as he scowls at you under the moonlight. “You’re twisting my words.”
“I am not! Merlin, Malfoy, do you ever just shut up—” Something brushes your shoulder. You freeze. “What was that?”
To your surprise, Draco actually shuts his mouth to listen. There’s nothing. No frogs, no crickets, no owl, no water dripping, no jilly bugs splashing in the pond.
It’s…silent.
Suddenly, something moves above you. Both your gazes jerk up at the same time. A leafy vine—so green it’s almost black—drops down from the wall and brushes Draco’s hair.
He flinches, and as the light catches on the small, glass-like beads growing between the leaves, your stomach drops.
You know exactly what that is.
The Veleroux Vine. Some call it Sirenlace. But it’s best known for another name.
Sex pollen.
You recognize it from your studies. The pollen pods contain a powerful aphrodisiac, said to heighten biological desire to mate in extreme ways. The more you resist, the worse the fever gets, making you wild with lust.
“Draco—don’t touch—” You throw a hand out to stop him.
But it’s too late.
Malfoy rears back and slaps the invading greenery away like he’s swatting a fly.
Shit.
“Dammit, Malfoy, what did I say about not touching anything?” You shriek, surging forward and shoving at his chest. “Get away from th—”
The first bead snaps open in a plume of dust. Fear rushes through your limbs and you try to jerk the both of you away, but you’re not quick enough.
One after another, the pollen pods pop in sequence, traveling down the vine, dusting your hair, your robes, and filling the air.
You jerk back, furiously rubbing at your skin, but it’s no use. It settles on you like a thin glitter, small enough to even to slip into your pores.
“Oh, shit. Fucking—fuck. Fuck!” you holler, but you shouldn’t have opened your mouth. Now the back of your throat feels like when you stuck your head in the sugar jar as a kid.
Draco sends you a withering look, brushing down his robes. “Calm down, will you? Bloody hell—just a little plant dust.”
“Just a plant—” You scoff, throwing your hands up in the air. “Merlin help me, you can’t just fucking listen for one second. I know what I’m talking about! Hurry! We have to get out of here before it—”
The vine slips around your shoulder at the very same moment Draco glances down to find another one winding around his ankle.
“—grabs us,” you finish weakly.
You try to scramble away, but the leaves thread around your arm in a silky vice.
Draco curses loudly at the thing, hopping on one foot, losing his robes in the process of trying to extricate himself.
“You have the wrong…pair,” you tell the inky leaves while you fumble for your wand. “We aren’t—we can’t…do what you want.”
“It wants something?” Draco casts a disbelieving look at the vine now wrapped around his dark slacks, settling around his knee. “Merlin—what?”
“It wants us to have sex,” you say, matter-of-factly.
He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. Then his gaze darkens, snagging on the way your hard nipples strain against your shirt.
Already? This shit works fast. You finally free your wand and cross your arms over your chest.
“Sex?” he sneers.
“Yes. It’s an aphrodisiac plant, native to rare jungles. Its job is to encourage mating between compatible species.”
“Compatible.” He scoffs. “You and me? Farthest thing from it.”
“It doesn’t know that..." You gasp as your wand is whisked out of your hands by a particularly strong leaf.
“Talk to it again. Tell it!” Draco shouts. He looks down and shakes his leg violently. The vine doesn’t budge. “Shit—just get it off me!”
Whispers of leaves dragging against stone make you turn to face the corner of the room behind you. A cluster of vines has begun to twist together, the husky hush of plants twining and looping filling the air. Vines slide across the floor, retracting into the dark corner, while more gather from the ceiling, shifting the beams of moonlight through the dusty air.
You inhale sharply. “Oh no.”
Draco curses somewhere behind you. “What now?”
“It’s building its nest,” you reply, eyes on the plant.
“It’s…what?”
You turn to see Draco fighting tooth and nail. He’s got his wand out now. Streaks of light bounce across the room, flames erupt in the air but they bounce off the leaves like they’re nothing but a few stray sparks. Across the room, past the pool, some of the other plants wither and shrink away from the light.
Adrenaline surges through you as your mind scrambles for a solution. You’re already beginning to feel it, a tugging deep in your core.
That familiar tight ache that blooms in the dark, alone, in your bed. But unlike then, right now, you can’t give into it. You try not think about how the longer you resist, the worse it will get. From your brief research, sex pollen isn’t fatal, but it certainly isn’t pleasant.
Unless you give in.
Then, of course, it’s rumored to be the best sex of your entire life.
You don’t have the luxury of finding that out.
There is an antidote, of course, but it is completely and totally, one-hundred percent, without a doubt—out of the question.
Sex with Malfoy? Not happening.
There’s only one answer. You have to escape.
Your gaze swings to the stone door, framed in elegant iron bars that allow climbers to reach moonlight.
Maybe if you could get out of the vine’s reach, it wouldn’t be able to chase you.
It only takes a second to form a plan.
Tipping back, you let your weight fall backwards into the vine, hoping to catch it off guard and force it to loosen its hold. Instead, you trip over a stray pot and go tumbling to the ground.
But before you hit the stone, the Veleroux is there.
Your breath catches, heart pounding, suspended in the air. Then the vine pushes gently into your lower back, guiding you forward util your feet find solid ground again. You stare, openmouthed, as the leaves brush along your leg, almost as if checking for injury, before nudging you toward the corner of the room.
“Oh, Merlin. Yes, I see your nest,” you say weakly, watching as the vine curls in on itself to form a sort of ball—more of a fist, really—and uses it to push softly against the heels of your shoes, urging you forward. It uncurls when you take a step, leaves fluttering as if pleased. Then it spins in the air, gesturing as if to say, look, I made this for you. A cozy, safe place to mate. “Very nice. Lovely, really. But you see, we can’t—”
“Blimey! Get back!” Draco’s voice interrupts your one-sided conversation.
You look over your shoulder, wobbling a bit as the plant continues to nudge you towards the silky hammock in the corner. He’s covered in vines, now. His wand has fallen somewhere off to the side, out of both your reach. He’s still flailing, hair mussed, trying and—failing— to break free.
You look down. The vine’s not even holding onto you anymore. Is it because you’re not fighting as hard?
You take a step towards the door. Nothing happens. You take another, and the vine edges closer. On the third, it finds your ankle again. But it doesn’t squeeze you or cinch tight enough to sting. It just curls softly around your leg, firm enough to stop you from running, but gentle enough that you start to suspect it doesn’t want you damaged.
Malfoy, on the other hand, looks almost black and blue.
“Stop!” You call. “The harder you fight, the tighter it tries to hold you. Just—watch. Walk towards me.”
“You’re insane. You know that?” he spits. But his eyes catch on your vineless body anyway.
“Trust me, Malfoy.”
That’s a phrase you never imagined yourself saying to him.
“It doesn’t want to hurt us,” you whisper. “I don’t think.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not good enough for me.”
Despite his words, Draco takes one step towards you. The vine’s hold loosens. Another step and it slips from his chest entirely.
“See?” you say, encouraged. “It’s biological nature is to keep its prey alive and well. It can’t force us to mate. It just…heavily suggests it.”
“Of course it doesn’t force it,” Draco sneers. “A plant can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.” But even as the words leave his lips, his eyes drop to the edge of your skirt. The hem suddenly feels six inches shorter, though you know it hasn’t shrunk.
Draco moves closer and the vines start to retreat, but he keeps a wary eye on them until they disappear into the Nest.
He glares at it, then at you. “What is that?”
“It’s a hammock,” you answer, eyes darting around for another escape route. “The vine thinks it will make us more comfortable. Since it’s not all over us anymore, I say we try to appease it. Just a little.”
“Appease it?” He gasps. “You want to—I can’t believe this. That—” he gestures towards the jumble of vines. “Could be a swan down comforter with silk sheets. I don’t care, I’m not going near it.”
You roll your eyes. “Merlin, you don’t listen. I’m not saying we go in the Nest. I’m saying we just…pretend. Then we can make a run for it.”
He doesn’t look convinced, so you turn to face him. “This plant spreads pollen to encourage mating, right? But how does it know when it’s worked? It’s not aware like we are.”
His eyes narrow. “Your point?”
“My point is…it’s pheromones, right? With our heightened hormones right now, we might be able to trick it into thinking we're on board, and it will let it's guard down.” Your stomach swoops with the words about to leave your tongue. “So maybe if you—if we—”
Draco’s eyes snap to yours. “If we what?”
His tongue swipes over his lower lip, leaving it glistening in the moonlight.
Stupid fucking pollen.
You swallow hard. “I think we should kiss.”
A beat of silence passes, the only sound your heartbeat kicking up, drumming in your ears.
“Fine,” he agrees.
That surprises you. You thought he’d gag at the very idea.
It must be the pollen, overriding his blatant hate for you and digging into his more urgent needs.
A shiver rolls down your spine at what those needs of his might be. You’re feeling it too, of course. The effect of being so close to him.
It’s only biological. To be drawn to a specimen of the opposite sex.
And why not Draco? He’s tall, healthy, miles of lean muscle. He smells good, and he’s not bad to look at. Especially when his eyes do that—flashing over at you thing, while his mouth quirks into a crooked smirk…
No other reason. Right?
You don’t have time to debate this, however, because Draco’s moving.
You’re vaguely aware of the vine brushing your ankle, keeping you steady as he crowds your space, and then—
Your lips meet his.
Your breath catches at the warmth you weren’t expecting. And that warmth…blooms. Your lashes fall shut as your whole body seems to sigh at the touch, like he’s the cure to the dull ache in your limbs, the antidote to the burning in your core. Just a gentle caress turns the sharp heat into a molten lava that invades your bloodstream.
He groans softly into your mouth, and the sound alone makes you gasp. Next thing you know, you’re pressed against his chest. Whether by his arms around you, or your own feet carrying you, or the stupid fucking vine playing matchmaker, all you know is he smells like green apples and teakwood. Cold luxury, but with a hint of…home.
At the first taste of his tongue, your stomach swoops dangerously. As he slants his mouth further, exploring, kissing you deeper, your heart feels like it’s beating as fast as a Snitch’s wings.
Your hands find his hair. It’s soft as silk between your fingers. A whimper escapes him and he breaks the kiss, head dropping back instinctively.
You watch through half-lidded eyes, taking in the way his wet lips gleam in the moonlight, blond lashes fluttering.
Merlin, he’s gorgeous.
His throat bobs on a swallow, and before you know it, your mouth is on his neck. He lets out a choked sound, something between a gasp and a groan, before jerking suddenly in your hold.
You stumble away, already missing the heat of his hands, lips buzzing like you’ve just downed a shot of fire-whiskey.
It’s him, you realize. He’s your drug. And when he lurches backward, breathing hard, you feel as if he’s just taken your last fix.
His eyes stay pinned on you as he retreats. The vine stops him with a gentle pressure at his back, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He lets it guide him toward the nest, stopping just beside it, his back hitting the wall.
You scramble back until your heels knock into the stone wall opposite him. The Nest sits between you, off to the right, tucked in the dark corner of the room.
“Brilliant plan,” he grits out. “Bloody brilliant.”
And you’re back to square one.
“Ah!” Draco shouts, pointing at his wand lying on the ground between you. “You crossed the boundary.”
“I did not!” you snap at him, eyes flashing. “I was just adjusting. My foot kicked it accidentally—shit—would you just shut up? Your voice makes it worse.”
Over the last several minutes, you and Draco have tried everything under the sun to escape. The farthest you ever made it was all of ten feet. You did manage to retrieve Draco’s wand, though. Which then started the slew of fire spells, sharp object summoning charms, and so on. An earthquake hex was threatened, but that could’ve brought the whole school down, so you couldn’t risk that.
Although it was considered for one brief—and selfish—moment.
But none of it did a thing.
Turns out, this plant has some sort of magical resistance. It’s so bad that he couldn’t even make a force field or proper line divider between you, so he placed his wand there instead.
You’ve slowly slid down into a heap on the floor, attempting to make yourself smaller, as if that might ease the ache building deep in your core. It’s relentless, hot and gnawing, and you know it’s only going to get worse if you don’t come up with another plan soon.
Draco’s sitting now too, half draped in shadow. His arms crossed over his crisp white button-down, and he’s still glaring at you as if this is all your fault. The one knee strategically placed in front of his groan is the only sign you’ve gotten that the pollen is effecting him at all.
Bastard.
His tie is loose though, and his hair is tousled. Like it always is after a match. There’s no wind in here though, just the whisper of leaves and the steady drip of water.
No. Your hands are the only thing to blame for that.
Shit.
Now all you can think about is how soft his hair felt, how easily your fingers sank into it, and all the ways you could drag him closer by it, yanking his hot, wet mouth to your—
“What did I tell you about thinking those things?” Draco says. You peek up to see his head hit the wall, eyes sliding shut.
“I’m not thinking anything—”
“Stop lying, Nineteen.” His nostrils flare, and his eyes snap open. Somehow, his pupils have grown even larger. “You're so wet I can practically taste it from here.”
Merlin. Your thighs press together instinctively.
“I’m not thinking anything that has to do with you,” you snap. “Except how much I hate you. How much I despise your face, how much I want to steal that Snitch from you every damn day, and how if I had to be here, I would rather it be anyone else other than you!”
Your chest heaves as you catch your breath. But the way he looks at you makes your pulse spike all over again.
“Is that right?”
His cheeks are flushed, the same way they are when he’s hot on the Snitch’s trail. Your slick walls flutter at the sight. You’ve always thought he looked good like that. All sweaty and warm, hair stuck to his forehead, eyes bright with a fire that matches yours.
Not that you would ever tell him, of course.
“Who would you want instead?” he rasps. “Montague? Flint? I see the way you look at them on the pitch.” He looks away for a second and drags his knuckles across his lips before his gaze snaps back to yours. “Lucky for you, you’re trapped here with someone who can show a little restraint.”
You bark out a laugh. “You think you’re the only one here with restraint? Take one step toward me, Malfoy, and I swear I’ll hex you.”
He grunts. “You don’t have a wand.”
Your head tips back with a quiet groan, your clit aching to be touched. You make another weak attempt to get away, but the vine catches you.
It doesn’t snap, claw, or hold you against your will. Rather it settles around your shoulders, brushing a waxy leaf along your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear before retreating again, as if to say, Stop fighting. Just look at him. Don’t you want to?
And somehow, that’s worse.
Because you do.
Badly.
You find yourself looking at his hands. Your gaze drifts over the curve of his palms, the long lines of his fingers, the tension there, the veins, the control he’s barely holding onto and—you’re salivating.
Snap out of it.
“It’s so hot in here, f-fuck,” you whine, pawing at the collar of your shirt.
Draco eyes lock on you fingers. “Take that off and I swear—don’t.”
But your tie feels like it’s choking you, and your pulse booms in your ears. Your fingers keep loosening it. Draco curses.
You whimper. “That’s not fair, you took yours off!”
“Stop talking. Merlin, just—” he cuts himself off with a rough breath, his large palm grinding down into his erection beneath his slacks. “Shut up.”
You try to stay quiet. You really do.
But every shift of your body sends heat spiraling lower, making it harder to think. Every brush of your thighs squeezes your swollen clit, and has you gasping into the wall behind you.
Draco’s breathing is uneven now, too, echoing faintly off the stone. He hasn’t been able to keep his hand off his dick, still hidden under his clothes.
Not that you’ve been watching.
“I think—‘ you swallow. “I think I have a plan.”
Draco moans. “Fine. Enlighten me.”
“Remember what I said about the pheromones?” You manage. “It’s clear kissing wa—shit—wasn’t enough. Maybe…” Your eyes drop to his erection.
“No.”
“Draco, we’re going to have to touch ourselves. It’s the only way.”
You expect him to be glaring at you, but when you look up, his eyes are on your legs—that bare skin between your shoe and your skirt.
“Fine.” His throat bobs on a swallow. “You first.”
You barely have time to debate the ramifications of your actions. Your body burns, thick pressure building low and sharp.
You slip your hand under your skirt, straight under your panties. You inhale shakily, trying to steady yourself, but when your fingers meet a slickness like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the breath leaves your lungs.
The sound of of your wetness fills the silence between you and Draco makes a low, strained sound.
You glance over at him and immediately wish you hadn’t.
He’s taken his cock out, and he’s stroking it from base to tip. It’s long. Thick enough to fill up his palm, and veiny. The tip is darker than the rest, and you just know, if you were to take him in your mouth and suck—you’d feel his heartbeat against your tongue.
His jaw is tight, eyes half-lidded, like he tried to close them but his body won’t let him. When he sighs and bucks his hips into his own fist your mouth runs dry.
Whatever cavern of distance used to exist between you is crumbling now. It’s being burned away. There’s no space for it in this heat, this constant pull towards each other. Your skirt rides higher up on your thighs, and the cool air brushes your wet inner thighs.
After a minute, the relief starts to fade. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus. But your body won’t cooperate. Your hips jerk back from your own touch, your clit bordering on overstimulation. You frown, plunging two fingers inside yourself to rub the ache away. But they feel like cold pencils in your pulsing channel.
The heat drags through your veins like hot cotton, begging for a deep release. But every brush of your arms against the cold stone behind you makes your elbows start to itch, and your very skin start to feel like a husk.
You need water. No—not water.
You need him.
It’s almost as if your body is punishing you for doing it to yourself.
“It’s not w-working,” you whimper, helpless.
Draco groans, his frustration evident in the bulging vein in his neck. His cock looks so angry in the dim light. He bites his lip in determination, and you watch his fist grip tighter. He only gets to three more strokes before he’s hissing with discomfort.
“There’s got to be another way,” he rasps, his hand dropping away.
You huff, so needy you’re almost on the verge of tears. “I’m thinking!”
“Well, think harder.”
You glare at him, dimly aware of how on display you are right now. Legs open and spread towards him, skirt barely concealing the way your fingers move against yourself. “Maybe I could if you could just shut your mouth for one damn second!”
His voice is not helping. All low and deep, with a hint of a rasp curling around his accent, making your belly tighten.
In fact, none of this is helping. Silence fills the space between you, only broken by uneven breathing and the quiet rustle of the Nest.
When his eyes drop to your dripping cunt and you don’t even have the decency to close your legs, it’s like the pollen has overridden your higher thinking. Your knees widen instinctively, begging for him to look. To touch…
Your composure slips further. And when he licks his lips, your lips actually part in preparation to ask for him.
Merlin, if this keeps up much longer, you’re not above begging if that what it takes. And begging Draco Malfoy for anything is beyond the lowest you’d ever thought you’d go.
You work yourself harder, but your fingertips feel like sandpaper against your soft folds, even as your arousal continues to leak steadily from you, your pussy desperate to be filled.
But that feels impossible.
A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you’re helpless to stop it. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your face away from him, still chasing any kind of relief, begging for it to feel like something worth grabbing onto.
Somewhere, distantly, you think Draco might be saying something, but you’re not sure what. Your body’s honed in on the vibrations of his voice, the way he smells—
“Nineteen.”
Hearing your nickname snaps you back to reality.
You open your mouth to answer him, but no words come out. Little gasps punch out of your parted lips, hips twisting and writhing, searching for friction. For heat. For him.
“Tell me,” he says firmly.
You turn your head. You can barely see him, your eyes refusing to open more than a sliver. He’s leaning forward now, one knee planted on the ground.
“W-what?” you rasp.
“Your plan—the pheromones—shit.” Then, quieter, he adds. “Tell me how to make it stop hurting you.”
Your eyes snap to his. He’s watching you with that sharp focus you’ve always admired about him. The look that says nothing is getting in the way of what he wants.
You’re not sure exactly what makes him give in.
Maybe it’s the way your breaths come in soft pants that make the rise and fall of your breasts visible beneath your loosened tie. Maybe it’s the way your eyes drop to his lips, his neck, your tongue running over your teeth like you’re imagining how he tastes. It might be the ways your hips slant forward, knees falling open, your body begging even if you don’t have the words to.
But he must see it.
Because, he just says, “Fuck.”
His shoulders catch the moonlight as he shrugs out of his shirt in one smooth motion. Lines of lean muscle come into view, and you feel as if you’ve been presented with a feast after almost starving to death.
Malfoy’s always had a very determined walk. A powerful stride, one that commands attention. You’ve seen in in the halls, backed by his loyal little following. You’ve watched him stride towards the Quidditch cup, shoulders back, chest high.
But right now—he’s not walking.
He’s crawling.
Towards you.
“Close your eyes. If it helps,” he says before his hand meets your ankle and he’s bowing in front of you.
Something deep in your mind catches on those words, but he’s yanking your panties the rest of the way down your legs, and the heat of his mouth against your core whisks your thoughts away.
The second his tongue finds your clit you can’t help but cry out. Your head tips back against the stone, the relief so immediate it’s almost staggering. Draco attacks you with warm, lascivious licks that aren’t meant to soothe, despite his words. They’re meant to claim.
Your hands dig into the mossy floor beneath you, arching your hips up for him. His strong, hot tongue parts your folds like it’s his life’s work. The view of his back muscles shifting and stretching in the moonlight as he makes out with your pussy is so seductive to you it’s nearly frightening.
In fact, it is.
Frightening.
“I hate you,” you grit out, not even entirely sure where it came from. Just a need to set things back in order, even as he’s unraveling you.
He groans against your clit, the vibration licking up your spine.
“Say it again.”
You gasp, caught between resisting and wanting more, even as your pelvis shoves forward and you grind into him like you’re in heat. His tongue dives lower and when his nose nudges your clit, you nearly scream. Your orgasm rises like something sharp. It’s so powerful of a burn, of an ache, you find yourself scrambling backwards in an attempt to get away from the promise of such delirious pleasure.
Merlin, you need it. More than you’ve ever needed anything in your entire fucking life—
It scares you how much.
But Draco just hums against the pulls on his hair and follows you anyway, scuffling forward on the stone ground, gripping your hips and spearing his tongue deep inside you.
“Malfoy, I’m gonna—oh, fuckkk—”
“That’s it,” he says, and the sound of him quietly speaking against your slick folds nearly does you in. “Scream my name, Nineteen. N-need—fuck—wanna hear you say it like that.”
The soft rasp of his voice, and the two long fingers being pushed inside you send you straight over the edge.
The release pulls you under in waves. Dark, pulsing tidal waves that drive deep through your pelvis, erasing through your body until the pleasure nearly blinds you. You feel yourself going rigid in his hands, thighs trembling against his soft hair, but he just hauls you through it, like a lighthouse in a storm. Strong, steady, and never stopping until you’re jolting and gasping, crying out in relief.
But the second your orgasm fades, the heat rushes in again. The fever. It’s back, and with vengeance this time.
Sweat beads your forehead and your vision swims, but you look up just in time to see Malfoy scramble backwards like you burned him.
You frown. “Dra—what?”
He throws a hand out, pressing himself against the opposite wall. “Don’t come closer.”
A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it. The heat is different now. Instead of feeling like a thread about to snap, your body has narrowed down to one singular need.
Breed.
Your fingers fly to your shirt without you telling them to, unbuttoning your shirt with ease. You feel the way your breasts move with your harsh breaths, but your gaze is locked on him. And when you drop down to all fours and slink forward, Draco looks like he’s going to have a heart attack.
“Merlin—I can’t.” he chokes out. “I can’t even think about it.”
Your gut feels like it’s been punched. Is he so disgusted by the thought that he can’t even look at you?
Does he truly not want you? Was that some sort of…pity—
You can’t even finish that thought.
You slink backwards until you’re half in shadow. He must see the look on your face because his head falls back against the wall on a groan. You can smell his sweat in the air and it’s making you downright feral even though you can barely look at him from embarrasement.
“I can’t think about it, because if I do, then I’ll do it,” he says. “And if I do it…I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”
Control. That’s always been Malfoy’s vice, hasn’t it?
This situation is probably his worst nightmare.
Not for the first time, something plucks on your heart strings deep under your ribs. He’s scared of losing it? You can give it back to him.
Slowly, and with deliberate care, you cross the boundary. The wand clatters somewhere to the side. Draco watches as you crawl to him, his eyes raking over you, a mixture of pain and hunger in his eyes.
You can only imagine what you look like.
Hair mussed, left in just a lace bra and soaked panties, your skirt hanging loose on your hips.
“Then don’t,” you murmur.
Your voice is so quiet in the stillness, but it spears through him all the same. Your gazes click together like magnets.
He shakes his head, chest heaving. “You don’t mean that. It’s just the fucking plant dust—”
He stops short when your hands settle on his knees, gently forcing them apart to make room for yourself. Your breath catches when you drop your gaze to see his cock sitting heavy and hard against his lower stomach. It twitches under your watchful gaze and your mouth waters.
Carefully, you settle into his lap.
He exhales sharply, and his hands find your soft skin, undoing your bra before you can even blink. Testament to a lot of practice, you’re sure.
You don’t have the strength to be self-conscious. You just need him. Now. Even so, somewhere through the lust-filled haze, you remember his words.
“The plant just lowers—” your breath hitches as his teeth find the soft skin of your neck. “—your inhibitions. It can’t make you fuck someone you don’t…w-want.”
“How do you know so much about this?” he groans into your hair. “Why are you so—”
“What? So smart?”
“You wish.”
The words barely brush your ear before you lean back to get a better look at him. You’ve barely straightened by the time his mouth is on your tits.
You cry out as he swirls his hot, greedy tongue around your nipples, sucking on the hard buds until you’re panting. Your clit swells and you bite your lip, threading your fingers through his hair. The first rock of your hips has you both groaning.
You grind down on him again and you nearly black out at the feeling of his bare length sliding through your slick folds. You reach between you to tug his slacks down further. His balls are heavy in your hand, and he grunts, shoving himself up into you.
“Merlin—I can’t—” he chokes out, mouth leaving your tits as his palms fly up and dig into his eye sockets.
Without thinking, you lean forward and kiss his fingers one by one. His bare chest stutters against yours at the softness of it, and when you slip his thumb into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it eagerly, he drops his hands.
You look down to find him staring up at you with a familiar expression. You make that face. When you're seconds away from catching the Snitch.
You swear you can feel every vein in his dick, so hot and hard against you as you grind your slick cunt against him. It’s instinct to drop your head and search for his mouth with yours, but you pull back at the last second. That last thread of lucidity coming back to haunt you.
This is your rival.
For a second you just breathe each other in, mouths parted, groaning and writhing into the other, but when the blunt head of his cock catches on your entrance, your hips react on their own—circling, pelvis arching, body begging in a primal, secret language you don’t fully understand.
And he moves with you—meeting you there with the deep urges of his own.
His hips don’t snap into you, brutal and deep. Instead, they slide. Back and forth. His hands clamp onto your hips, holding you still in his lap as he eases the tip in and out, letting your slick coat him until you’re ready to take the whole thing.
The way his body moves speaks to something primal and powerful in you. How his sweaty muscles bunch and tense, and his hands dig into your skin at your hips, your thighs, your waist— it’s better than anything you could’ve imagined.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” he growls into your ear.
You nod frantically, clenching around him.
In one long thrust, Draco fills you up. The stretch is breathtaking. Literally. He’s so long that his tip kisses your cervix with every thrust, sending you mewing and clawing at his hair, his shoulders, just to stay afloat through the pleasure.
He’s not fairing much better.
He’s growling and moaning, his cock jerking desperately in your slick walls as he pulls back just far enough to yank your hips back down to meet his.
Sounds spill out of you. They might be words, you’re not sure. But the next thing you know, cold stone meets your back, and Draco’s warm body is spread out over you. His thrusts grow heavier and deeper. You can feel the way your body tries to hold onto him, clenching and fluttering desperately, even as your arousal makes it easy for him to slide so deep.
You’ve never been this wet in your life. And now, you’re wondering, if it’s from the pollen, or if it’s just from him. Because you’ve never had sex this good, and that’s saying something.
Your bodies just…move together. Like they’re one of a kind puzzle pieces meant to fit. The give and take is so instinctual it’s almost unbearable how good it is.
“Fuck, you take me so well,” Draco pants, a lock of hair falling over his sweaty brow. “Knew you would.”
You throw your head back, your ankle finding solace in his lower back, sealing him to you and begging for more. Your body gives into the heat, the pleasure cresting and pulling you into something dangerously strong. So strong you’re worried your body might not survive it.
“So pretty on the pitch,” he groans, seemingly unable to stop from talking. “Merlin, I just—I lose the bloody Snitch every time you look at me.”
That does it.
Your orgasm rushes through your body like lightning. Your spine snaps straight, muscles clenching down with a pulse you feel everywhere. A moan leaves your chest, so loud you’ve probably woken the whole damn castle, but you’re too gone to care.
Draco makes a rough sound against the skin of your neck. “Holy—fuck, I’m gonna—where should I—”
“Inside,” you gasp. “Please. Please, Draco. I need it. P-please—”
“Ah, fuck—” His mouth seals against your throat, nose brushing the pulse point below your ear. “Need you.”
He jerks hard, once, twice, and then he’s spilling inside you. Your body seems to understand, back arching, pulling him deeper with your ankle as he stills and lets out a groan that curls low in your belly, and will certainly live on in every wet dream you have from here on out.
The fever fades like a receding tide. You blink, slowly coming back to yourself. Your clit is throbbing, and your pulse is still hammering, but strangely you feel...lighter somehow.
Like maybe the last few years of tension between you and your rival finally needed to snap.
You turn to him. He’s on his knees, breathing hard, buttoning up his pants. He looks up at you, and something in his eyes softens.
“What did you mean?” You find yourself asking. “When you told me to close my eyes earlier?”
He shrugs, reaching for his shirt.
“Well, you said you’d rather be here with anyone else. I just—” he looks away, suddenly seeming very interested in the way the Nest is unraveling like it did its job, and the stray vine that’s currently retrieving his wand for him.
You don’t let him finish.
You lurch forward and grab his face, pulling his lips to yours.
This time, he doesn’t hesitate a second before meeting your mouth. He kisses you back, long and hard, digging his fingers through your hair to pull you closer. You exhale into it, something long unsaid passing between you. But it’s not enough. You still need to say the words.
So, you break the kiss first. He blinks down at you, eyes dark, hair mussed.
“I only think about you, Malfoy,” you whisper in the shared air between you. “On or off the pitch, it’s only you.”
He leans down and brushes his lips across yours. “I still hate you, Nineteen.”
You reward him by deepening the kiss. He answers it, slower this time, but no less intense. When he finally pulls back, you’re already smiling.
Something neuroscience-y that helps with prose: attention is selective. A character will not notice everything in a room. They will notice what matters to their goal, fear, desire, training, wound, or obsession. A jealous character notices hands. a hungry character notices food. A soldier notices exits. A lonely character notices pairs. Description becomes character when attention has a bias.
story summary: Omegas had never been allowed within the ranks of the Scout Regiment, that was until Erwin took over as Commander. Now, it’s commonplace for Alphas and Omegas to work side by side and harmony has prevailed.
That is until one Omega slips up and triggers their first ever heat, that Omega is you…
“Shh, little one. Let me take care of you like you asked. Your skin is divine to touch… soft and smooth. It makes me want to bite it all over,” he admitted. “If you were mine, I would—” Erwin let the sentence falter, not knowing if it was wise to admit exactly what he would do if you were his. Nor did he want to admit just how badly he wanted you to be his.
pairing: Alpha Erwin Smith x Omega female reader
word count: 10.1k (brings snacks and get comfy)
warnings: omegaverse AU, no mention of titans, abundant mentions of heats/ruts, boss/subordinate dynamic, knotting, breeding kink, biting kink, aggression surrounding reader (they remain safe throughout), scenting, protector Erwin, internal conflict, mini appearances of Hange and Levi, spit, mounting, look… it’s a lot of smut and smutty thoughts all the way through 😆
thanks to @thesoftugly for volunteering to beta read this behemoth
Before Commander Smith had taken over The Scout Regiment, Omegas had not been allowed to serve within the division. The school of thought was generally that it would not be safe for any Omega to be around a military division largely occupied by Alphas, and not just any Alphas, but some of the strongest and most ferocious.
Erwin disagreed with that idea.
“If any of my soldiers cannot control their nature and act accordingly around an Omega then they do not belong in my ranks. We must protect those that cannot protect themselves and do so without appearing superior. No Scout worth their salt would dare defy me.”
He recalled the stunned silence he was met with when he laid out his reasoning for the draft of new recruits he was bringing into the Scouts. Even his closest ally, Pyxis, had glanced at him with doubtful eyes and a twitching moustache.
It was a brave decision, and he knew that. However, history would not tell the tales of the meek and whilst Commander Smith was not looking for fame or glory, he was certain that this generation of Scouts would become infamous. He would ensure it was for good reason and not from disgrace.
From that moment, Omegas were welcomed into the ranks and two years of peace and harmony ensued.
~
“What seems to be the problem?” Hange asked, lifting their gaze from the clipboard in their hand to peer at you over the rim of their glasses.
“You’re not a doctor. Where’s Doctor Hamilton?”
Hange clicked their teeth and rolled their eyes in exasperation. “She’s out sick. I might not have a doctorate in medicine, but I am the best we have as a stand in until she returns. I have several other patients to see so I suggest you ‘chop chop’ and tell me what you need.” They made a chopping motion with their hands, and you wanted to die right then and there.
This was exactly what you didn’t need.
Hange couldn’t know. They mustn’t know why you were here. You couldn’t afford to be turfed back into the monotonous boredom of clerking for the Military Police. There were only so many transcripts of interrogations of clearly wrongfully imprisoned patsies you could write up.
You had your limits and to go back to ‘The Pen’ as it was not-so-affectionately called, would be enough for you to consider calling your career in the military quits altogether. Then what would your mother say?
The thought of her smug expression and the ‘I told you so’ that would be written plainly across her face was enough to sour the contents of your stomach. She couldn’t understand your desire to venture even a toe out of the safety of the MP and their dedicated Omega squad. It was like being herded sheep. Every second you had hated, once again being judged on only your position on the ladder of power.
When the opportunity for non-alphas to join the ranks of the Scout Regiment arose two years ago, you had worked diligently to secure a transfer. It had not been easy, but was anything worth fighting for ever easy?
It had been nearly a full year since your new post begun and, in your time here, you had never felt more fulfilled in your whole life. You had a job that you didn’t hate, you felt like you were actually making a difference, and most importantly, you had friends. Real, true friends that were not simply others considered of the same social standing.
More so, your most recent post had put you directly into the path of a man you had admired quietly from afar for many many years… Commander Smith was everything you could ever want in a man.
That last thought surprised you, although you had long admitted it to yourself. It was not your place to lust after a man of such high stature, especially not the man in charge of the entire division and your direct superior. What surprised you was that you had allowed it to escape into the frantic hive of your mind.
It was something you had been suppressing since taking the promoted post as Commander Smith’s new personal assistant. You had made a vow to yourself that you would keep your wicked—carnal—thoughts about the blond hulk of an Alpha to yourself. Work was work and the filthy fantasies that played out when you were laying in bed in deepest nighttime were between you and your poor overused vibrator.
“It... doesn’t matter,” you said, standing abruptly.
“Uh, no no. Sit your butt back down and tell me why you asked for this appointment. I was told you indicated it was an emergency,” Hange countered with a frown.
They moved to block your view of the door, eyes narrowing at how you were obviously considering a dash for the exit. This was not helping. A flush ran the course of your spine and spread over your head. Another minute or two and sweat would be leaking from your pores as if you had just emerged from a sauna.
“Fever?” Hange asked curiously.
“Yes! I mean, yes, a fever... that’s it. I think I’m coming down with something.” You clutched at the lifeline they had unwittingly thrown.
Hange reached for a thermometer and the stethoscope laying on the orderly doctor’s desk. They approached slowly, the reassuring smile doing nothing to calm the racing pulse which would be discovered all too soon. They took the necessary measurements and drew back with their nose scrunched.
“It’s none of my business, but a word of advice — you might want to consider using less perfume. The smell is a little overpowering and what with us having a keen sense of smell, it’s probably not wise.”
Oh.
“R-right, sorry,” you stammered shyly.
If Hange only knew the truth of it.
This perfume was the only thing masking the first bloom of your scent. It was faint right now, but soon it would be so potent that Alphas from miles away would catch a whiff on the wind if it was in blowing in the right direction.
There had never been an expectation for Omegas to mask in the Scouts. Suppressants were not a mandated requirement to work here, and as far as you were aware, there had never been any incidents of Alphas overstepping. Of course, things like that could have been kept hush hush from the lowly subordinates, but there was something inherently honest in everyone you had dealings with here in Trost.
You did choose to suppress; a decision you were no longer entirely at ease with. Growing up it had been expected; the monthly injections and daily medication started the very second you entered adolescence. It was tedious.
Perhaps that was why you found yourself in this current predicament—out of suppressants and your monthly injection days away from expiration. Were you subconsciously rebelling?
The more you considered it, the more it made sense. You were in your late twenties now and the thought of experiencing what was meant to be a large part of your societal culture and physiological needs… it didn’t disgust you as it once had when you were younger.
It was just a shame that the only Alpha you wanted was well and truly out of reach.
“Alrighty then. Your core temperature is slightly elevated but not enough for me to be overly concerned. There is no noise on your chest and apart from your pulse being a little quick...” They paused, cutting a curious glance in your direction and making you jump from your wayward thoughts. “I think the best course of action would be a day of bedrest and plenty of hydration. If it gets worse come back and we’ll see about referring the symptoms to Doctor Hamilton for antibiotics to be prescribed.”
Nodding fervently, you stood quickly and surreptitiously steadied your balance with a palm on the wall beside you. The need to be out of this too small room was clawing nails down your skin, a wave of dizziness draining the blood from your face which thankfully went unnoticed as Hange became far more interested in a manilla folder in their hands.
“Thanks. I appreciate you seeing me on short notice, please send my regards to Doctor Hamilton.”
You had never dashed so swiftly to your quarters, only breathing a long sigh of relief once the door was closed behind your back and the lock clicked into place. Slowly, you slid to the floor and curled your arms around your knees.
What am I going to do?
Something stirred inside the depths of your brain, an entity shrouded in sleepy shackles that were ready to snap at any moment. A pulse of heat erupted in your stomach then vanished as fast as it had arrived. You sensed a smile stretching wide in anticipation.
Sleep found you surprisingly easily that night, all your anxieties melting away into insignificance as your body prepared for what was coming. Your silly concerns mattered not to your beastly side, they needed you fresh faced and in peak physical condition.
Your first heat was coming, there would be nothing to stop it this time.
~
Erwin drummed his fingers on the polished cherry wood desk. He was already bored to tears by the man droning on and on about... something or other. Truth be told, he had tuned out soon after the speech started. For this was absolutely a speech and not the informal conversation that had been sold to him initially.
His cool blue eyes glanced to the corner to watch you scribbling furiously on a secretary’s pad, your tongue between your teeth in concentration. He did not envy you this task, especially when he was certain you were under the weather.
“I’m fine, Commander. Please don’t relieve me from duty, I need something to focus on and we both know you don’t want to have to listen to Commander Dok. I’ll scribe just fine, I swear it!”
Erwin was fond of you, more so than he wished to admit.
Only recently had you taken over as his personal secretary when the previous one had retired from active service after finding their mate, a feat he was more than happy to witness since it was far from guaranteed in the world they lived in.
He enjoyed your sharp wit and dedication to the Scouts. Your smile had a way of lighting up the room, although he was certain that was not something he should have taken note of. You were young and enthusiastic, bright eyed and bushy tailed as some might say.
Shakily, you pushed strands of hair that had fallen into your eyes back behind your ear and he felt a deep crease form between his eyebrows. Now that he was looking at you closely, he could see a thin sheen of sweat decorating your skin.
He had to do something, and now.
“Nile, I must apologise for interrupting,” he interjected, lifting a placating hand, “but I have another engagement that I must attend to. I had no idea you wished to take up so much of my time or I would have scheduled a longer appointment. However, given that nothing you have mentioned is especially pressing, I will endeavour to meet with you again next week. How does that sound?”
Nile bristled at being dismissed so readily. “You’ll never not be a pain in my arse, Erwin Smith.”
“Ahem, no need to include that in the transcript,” Erwin said jovially, casting a twinkling smile in your direction which was not returned, much to his disappointment.
Another twenty minutes was spent negotiating with Nile, off record, before the man finally departed. When the office door finally closed, Erwin watched as your posture relaxed and your arm fell limp to your side with the pen still dangling between your fingertips.
“You’re sick,” he stated matter-of-factly.
The Commander rose from his chair and stalked closer, eyeing you carefully to assess your condition. He stopped a few feet from you, sniffing subtly before shaking his head. He was being ridiculous. He had to be.
Your eyes cracked opened slowly to roam around the room before landing on his midsection and rose up up up until you met his piercing blue gaze. If he didn’t know better, he would say you were under the influence of alcohol or something far more illicit. A glaze coated your eyes and turned them… sultry.
Erwin stiffened; his spine lengthened, and his stance fell back to one of familiarity from years in the military. He couldn’t help but watch your chest rise and fall, the rhythm unnaturally fast and it only drew his attention to the top three buttons of your blouse, ones that were normally fastened but were not today.
He should stop.
“I know you said you needed something to focus on, but I cannot have you falling over at your desk. Consider yourself on bedrest for the rest of the week—”
“But Sir! I’m fine,” you interrupted loudly. The shock of his words jolted you upright in your seat and nearly had you toppling out of it altogether just as he had warned.
“Since when do you answer back to your superior like that? This is highly uncharacteristic from you, and I refuse to allow it to continue. You are relieved of all duties until Monday morning, do you hear me?”
He hated being strict when you were so obviously out of sorts. This was not behaviour he had come to expect from you, along with his growing affection, he silently cursed himself when your eyes turned red and misty.
Standing, your head bowed in submission. “Yes, Commander. I apologise for my outburst.”
Erwin clicked his tongue against his teeth and despite thinking better of it, he raised his hand so that two fingers slid beneath your chin. “There is no need for that. All I ask is for you to get better, okay?”
It was a mistake, but one he only realised once it was too late.
A soft purr seemed to emanate from your chest, an enticing sound the likes of which he had not had the pleasure of hearing for the longest time. Erwin pulled his hand back like he had been scorched. The heat of your skin increased tenfold, and for a moment he had the desire to look at his fingertips to see if they did in fact sizzle like how they felt.
He watched you leave; dumbstruck and frozen to the spot as if he had taken root on the antique rug beneath him. It had been so long since he had first-hand experience of an Omega approaching a heat that he almost dismissed the signs as figments of his imagination.
However, the animal inside would not be so gullible.
~
That evening and the following day were a total blur.
You had no real clue how much time had passed since you were dismissed by Commander Erwin, neither did you know what time of day it was currently.
All you knew was that you were too hot and that even the thinnest bedsheet was too much for your overheating body. You writhed atop your mattress, naked and unbearably uncomfortable. The cotton from the fitted sheet was clammy from your sweat, droplets rushing from places you never dreamed of.
For the millionth time, your hands passed over your body and you hissed like a wounded animal when you grazed the stiff peaks of your nipples. You tweaked at them in turn, the painful pleasure echoing between your legs…
Speaking of which, your cunt was completely soaked.
After ruining four consecutive pairs of underwear with the rivers of slick flowing easily from your aching hole, you had endeavoured to remain entirely naked. Nature was preparing you for the only thing that would calm your mind, lift the fog that had descended and satiate your body. The abundance of lubrication present to help your Alpha ease into your body, to feed you their cock and eventually their knot with minimal discomfort.
Except, you didn’t have an Alpha.
It was funny how you knew the symptoms and process of a heat, but the theory was nothing compared to experiencing them first hand. You had no idea how those who chose not to suppress dealt with this routinely. It felt like hot knives were carving through your insides, shredding you apart until you didn’t recognise yourself. The reflection in the mirror would be someone—something else.
Distantly, you heard knocks coming from the door to your quarters, but you paid it little attention. It wasn’t like you could walk the short distance to it anyway, nor were you in any state to answer. Voices followed the knocks which grew in determination.
Hange, maybe? You couldn’t be sure. Although, you wouldn’t put it past Commander Smith to send someone to check in on you, especially if he discovered you had visited the temporary doctor recently as well as your outburst in his office.
All you could do was roll over onto your side and press your palm between your thighs, stimulating the bundle of nerves with the heel of your hand in an effort to ease the continuous throbbing sensation. You screwed your eyes shut, the black of your eyelids turning into a kaleidoscope of colours until they formed a figure—a figure you were well acquainted with—and had no right to be thinking about in this context.
Commander Erwin Smith’s silhouette shook like a desert mirage until it thickened and materialised in your mind’s eye. If you strained enough, you could smell the scent of his understated cologne and beneath that, his unique musk that was all him.
Those natural pheromones that dominated all others and highlighted his status as Alpha. Not just any Alpha, but one of the most powerful Alphas in Trost. The Alpha you admired the most if you let the little voice in your head speak freely.
Your nose twitched again, and your eyes shot wide as you realised it was stronger when you moved your head closer to the edge of the bed.
On the floor lay your blouse and skirt, the ones you had worn during his meeting with Commander Dok. Without hesitation, you grabbed up the blouse and held it beneath your nose to inhale deeply.
There it was.
A spicy scent unlike any other. It was warming and comforting, for the first time in, you didn’t know how long, you could breathe a little easier and the heavy feeling in your heart and gut lightened. You nuzzled the blouse. Holding it against each cheek in turn before returning it to your nose.
Why couldn’t you scent it directly from his skin? It wasn’t fair. You could bury your nose in the hollow of his throat. Lick lazily at the prominent bob of his Adam’s apple. Grind your feverish body against his until he was hard and ready to take you.
You should stop pretending.
Gods… what were you doing?
There was no denying the primal desires swirling like a building vortex in your brain. You wanted to be full, stretched to the breaking point. You needed to be bred like the good little Omega you were. You wanted a knot so badly you could cry.
None of these were thoughts you had experienced before and had you been in your right mind, they would have shocked you right down to the core.
Delicate shaky fingers sought out your aching hole, two slipping easily past the ring of muscles until your knuckles were lodged against the gumminess of your walls, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Without an Alpha here to pin you down and split you wide, you would suffer. Without Erwin here to smother you with his impressive weight, you would continue to feel bereft. Wronged by a universe that danced to its own tune without thought for those affected.
Yes, it would pass eventually, but you doubted your sanity would be intact when that time finally arrived. A hurt-sounding howl escaped your throat, a lament aimed at a world that was proving to be unfair and unjust.
With a final wail, you curled in on yourself and fell into a pain-filled sleep. All the while, the commotion on the other side of your quarters door continued unabated.
~
Erwin had not needed to be notified of the ruckus kicking off in the living quarters assigned to secretarial and support personnel. He could hear it from all the way in his office. At first, he assumed it would be dealt with as all other little scuffles were, but after ten minutes, his concern heightened.
He was met with a very red-faced soldier whom he could not recall the name of. “Commander! We have a situation. Captain Levi sent me to find you… there is, well—”
“Spit it out, we don’t have all day.” Erwin demanded, barely halting in his purposeful strides in the direction of the noise. He could hear arguing, but almost above the rabble, a soft howl of distress caught his attention. It sounded familiar, and his pace quickened.
“An Omega… they are going into a heat. It seems to have riled those living in close proximity.”
Erwin stalled. “What?”
Fury bleed from his pores. Had they all lost their damn minds? This wasn’t the first heat to happen since Erwin’s command, and there had never been this level of disorder. He rounded the final corner and was confronted by six men in various states of dress, some with visible injuries on their faces and hands and at the door which he assumed led to the Omega in question, Levi stood on an overturned chair looking equal parts haughty and furious.
“Enough!” Erwin bellowed over the heated voices. “Pull yourselves together or I will be forced to take further action.”
An awkward silence descended almost immediately. The power of his voice along with the blast of authority he projected towards the troublemakers was more than enough to have their metaphorical tails lying limp between their legs.
“About damn time,” Levi snarled.
He leapt to the floor and shouldered past two engineers with matching bruises blooming purple beneath their eyes. They dared to bare their teeth, but remained silent, nonetheless. Levi seemed oblivious, or more likely he considered them so far removed from a threat that he took no note.
Levi’s eyes cut up to Erwin, an eyebrow arching at the high blush that was slowly coating the Commander’s cheeks. He knew what had caused the pandemonium and what shamed him the most was his inability to remain unaffected.
A first heat.
They were special for most Omegas and could be extremely traumatising if not handled delicately and in the right way. From experience, Erwin knew that it was commonplace for Omegas who were unattached to seek out help from other Omegas in their family or close friends. They could ride out the worst of the heat whilst knowing they were safe and being cared for, but this… he couldn’t imagine what they were going through whilst trapped in a den of literal wolves.
“You can smell it, right?” Levi whispered out of earshot of the others. “It’s a first heat and I must be honest; I am barely hanging on myself. Hange sought me out when they couldn’t raise an answer at the door, and by the time we returned… well, this was the scene. Some of the men were tearing at each other to get to the door and they had started to break it in places. Apparently, she presented at the clinic three days ago under the guise of a fever, Hange now suspects that they were suppressing and had run out of the drugs. She seemed unwilling to admit it to Hange, perhaps because they are an Alpha and Doctor Hamilton is not.”
A fever? Oh no. With alarming clarity, the puzzle pieces fell into place. Erwin knew why the howl he had heard seemed familiar, why the scent of arousal mingled with pheromones tickled his nose in such a way that he was struggling to stop himself from huffing the air like the men now forcibly being returned to their rooms.
It was his sweet little personal assistant. You weren’t sick, you were in need, and he could help you.
No! He mustn’t. He would control himself, but he could at least ensure you were safe.
“You there,” he gestured to the bloodied men who were starting to disperse. “Find cots in the dormitory for tonight, I cannot trust that you won’t try this again and I will personally cut down anyone who tries to enter these quarters without express permission. Captain Levi will escort you.”
Erwin turned to Levi and ignored the scowl emblazoned across his face. “See that the dormitories are guarded by those you trust the most and have everyone in this part of the wing relocated for the next night or two.”
“Don’t go in there, Erwin.” Levi’s warning was barely above a whisper.
The Commander clapped a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder and moved past him towards the barely intact door. “And Levi? Ask Miche to replace this door within the hour,” he asked calmly without acknowledging the words of warning, stepping directly into the breach.
For once he wasn’t going toe to toe with powerful enemies, he was facing a different beast altogether and somehow, he was more nervous about this situation than any battle he had participated in…
Your small apartment space was orderly with minimal decorations, but he noted a family photograph nailed to the wall and an arrangement of plush cushions resembling animals piled up on the cramped little couch.
His gaze swivelled absently around the room, in truth, he was doing everything in his power not to make a direct line for the bedroom. Your scent hung like thick molasses now that he was inside, hands fisting by his sides to remain where he stood. Erwin was the master of his body, not his instincts but the fight was not a fair one on this occasion.
He had never smelled anything quite as inviting, and that was entirely the problem. Whilst, he had had partners in the past, even gone through a heat or two, none of them tempted him in the way he felt tempted right this second. It was as if the scent was visible on the air, seductive tendrils writhing around him and beckoned him to move closer to the source.
It was as if all his favourite sweet treats from his childhood had melted into one tantalising scent crafted especially for him. Saliva gathered behind his clenched teeth. German chocolate cake. Fire roasted marshmallow. Raspberry jam straight from the jar. He wanted to drink it down like a man discovering a bountiful oasis after days without water. It made him feel younger, though he was hardly past his prime, but the scent invigorated his heart until he was certain he could best the top cadet in a foot race.
If someone told him that the vapour was tickling him beneath the chin, he would believe it.
After several moments of calming breaths which did little to actually calm his nerves, Erwin dared to venture deeper. He told himself that he needed to assess your condition, which was true, but if his instincts could speak, they would announce loudly their desire to catch a whiff of your scent directly from the honeypot.
The bedroom was dark, though it mattered little given his ability to see well in low lighting, and what he saw on the bed, stopped his heart for what felt like a full minute. A huddled mass lay in the very centre, your body in the foetal position with a hand buried between your legs and the other arm covering your naked breasts.
He should look away.
He should stop staring at your skin glistening with dewdrops of sweat and sticky slick pooling beneath you.
He should cover your vulnerability and walk away, leave this to someone else, but there was no one he trusted to handle this situation in his stead.
Your breathing was even and deep, a blessing given your predicament. As voices approached in the hallway outside, Erwin snapped out of his drunken stupor and did the first thing that came to mind. He pulled off his jacket and laid it over your body. It barely reached mid-thigh, but it would do.
With your modesty protected, somewhat, he retreated to oversee the work on your door being replaced. What he didn’t see was the smile of contentment on your face and the visible relief of being draped in his scent loosening the tight ache of your muscles.
In sleep you burrowed into the jacket warmed by his blood.
~
It was the sound of pages being turned in a book that roused you. It shouldn’t have, given how carefully the reader was being to not make noise, but the ache in your gut had returned and the fatigue was no longer severe enough to allow you to sleep on.
For a long moment you kept your eyes carefully closed, wondering what it was that weighed so nicely over your body and kept the worst of your current dilemma at bay. It felt like being held by a loved one, as if you were young once more and your mother was wrapping you in her protective and caring embrace.
“You’re awake.”
Commander Smith’s rich baritone rumbled from somewhere behind you. It froze the very blood in your veins until another wave of desire pulsed through you, causing you to writhe and buck, to your shame. Not him. Anyone but him.
Lies! You want him most of all… don’t deny it.
You couldn’t look at him—not now. Instead, you steeled your voice and spoke to the wall. “Commander Smith… why are you in my bedroom?”
“I apologise if you have the wrong impression, however, my presence was rather necessary given your… predicament,” Erwin supplied, sounding more uneasy than you had ever heard him. “I must be honest with you because that is only fair.”
He sighed and the sound caused a moan to bubble inside your throat, barely caught before it slipped out. Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you waited for him to continue not only because you needed to know, but the sound of his voice soothed you in ways you didn’t wish to examine closer.
“Your heat triggered some displays of aggression amongst your neighbours. There may have been attempts made at getting to you, but do not worry,” Erwin stressed when he saw how you tensed on the bed. “Your door has been replaced, and I will personally ensure your safety until it has passed.”
“Aggression? You’re telling me that—oh fuck.” All rational thought and ability to speak coherently died on a single spasm between your thighs. You should be absolutely appalled that anyone had tried to get inside your quarters without permission, but that animalistic instinct reared its head and grinned wickedly into the dark space of your mind.
It was what you needed. To be taken, filled, consumed… bred.
“Don’t speak right now, it’ll pass so just breathe for me,” Erwin coaxed softly whilst the sound of a chair creaked as it was dragged across a wooden floor. “A first heat can be very difficult. I assume you have suppressed since adolescence—you don’t need to answer. I-I don’t have any personal experience to draw upon, but I will do whatever it takes to help you through this.”
Fuck me… you thought, enraged that you wanted it so badly that you were chewing your lips bloody from speaking it aloud. Your spine bowed at the ripples of heat spreading outward from your centre to the ends of your fingers and toes, to the top of your head.
“Can you walk? I’ve run a lukewarm bath which might help cool you down.”
“No. Commander—you shouldn’t…” You broke off on a sob, wracked with another wave of scorching fire attacking the insides of your thighs at the steady drip of slick covering your skin.
“Please, it’s Erwin. Given the situation, I don’t think formalities are necessary right now. I’m going to lift you into my arms, okay? I’ll be gentle and you may hold on as tightly as you need to. Once I’ve got you in the bath, I will step outside to give you some privacy.”
The bath water was just cool enough that you sighed happily as the water sloshed over you. It was no comparison to the relief you felt whilst held in Erwin’s careful arms, but simply thinking of how easily your arms had wound around his neck gave you shivers of a completely different kind.
You did your best to refute all those lustful thoughts from months of working closely with the Commander. Of course, you hadn’t noticed how broad his shoulders were or how the short undercut at the nape of his neck tickled your fingertips when you held on. Nope. Nada.
Your nose was growing at an alarming rate with all this lying.
Through drooped lids you watched whilst he glanced around your meagre bathroom looking for goodness knows what. He was too large, too imposing for such a cramped space but despite it all, you liked him in here—wanted him to stay.
Where others may have taken full advantage of having a naked Omega within reach, not to mention an Omega in heat, Erwin had shown you nothing but diligent care. It made you wonder if your state bothered him at all, and somehow the thought that it might not… well, that bothered you.
He was an Alpha; shouldn’t he want you?
“Stay… please?” You purred when he made to exit and give you the privacy he had promised.
Erwin paused in the doorway. His piercing artic eyes roamed your face and dipped towards the fluttering pulse in your neck but ventured no further. You could see the tic in his cheek work at the same time his jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared. He was fighting himself.
One soapy hand reached for his clenched fist, bubbles dripping across his knuckles until the fingers finally—finally—loosened and gently entwined with yours.
“I shouldn’t,” he breathed more to himself.
You hummed in a half agreement, bolstered by the need thrumming through your body. “But you will, won’t you? Sit here.”
Erwin awkwardly perched on the corner of the tub before reaching for the towel he had laid out for you to wipe his wet hand. There were wrinkles in his normally crisp shirt, the top buttons unfastened and the bolo tie that rested around his throat suspiciously absent. This was by far the most casual you had been afforded to see him. You guessed not many had received such a luxury.
“Does it hurt?” he asked whilst he began to roll his sleeves towards the bend at his elbows. It was hard to follow the movements given he was sat near your shoulder, but you twisted enough to keep some of him in view, sloshing water in the process.
You took a second to assess, listening to the competing demands being screamed in your mind and body. This was certainly the most lucid you had felt since the heat had started, and you had an inkling that Erwin’s presence had a lot to do with it.
Would you ever be able to express your gratitude?
In short, yes it did hurt. However, there was a will to prove that you were not so easily overcome or beaten down. A sly voice echoed around your mind, purring and shunting you to ask for more of your Commander—far more than you had any right to.
“Not badly, I guess. But you could make it better… if you were inclined to. I think I would like it very much,” you urged gently, once more finding his hand and leading it towards the rippling surface of the bath.
Erwin didn’t stop you.
He didn’t seem to breathe or blink. Blindly, he allowed for his fingers to skim the water before breaking the surface and slipping over the wet flesh covering your shoulder. His cock strained against his underwear and trousers; the rigid length trapped along his thigh whilst thick pearls of precum oozed out to stain the heavy fabric.
He had been aroused since he first identified your scent, more so when he felt your heat descend over his like a vaporous fog. Finding you naked in bed had not fed his desire, if anything, it infuriated him and roused his protective nature.
Now that you were awake and calm enough to speak without letting out whines of distress or angry expletives… now he was truly struggling to maintain his composure.
“Do you have any idea what you are asking of me?” he murmured, wet fingertips tracing swirling patterns over your collarbone and across your clavicle. One pad dipped into the hollow of your throat, eliciting a soft moan that nearly broke him.
If you responded, he didn’t hear it.
You were sweltering to the touch; the lightly perfumed oil he had added to the water slicked your skin so the journey down your chest was made all the easier. His fingers skirted over the mounds of your breasts, avoiding your nipples although you did your best to thrust upward and force his hand so to speak.
Erwin’s tongue clicked against his teeth in a commanding tsk. “Behave.”
He continued to explore you, slowly and methodically. It was bliss. It was torture. Your head rested against the tiled backsplash; eyes closed as you concentrated solely on the sensation of his hand on you. Erwin traced the sides of your breasts down to your soft stomach; he circled your navel then ventured back up to give attention to your neglected nipples.
His breathing was more of pant when he tweaked your tender little nub between a rough finger and thumb. Your eyebrows creased when he pulled it taut and tugged firmly, the echo of the sensation causing your clit to throb in unison. It was difficult not to wriggle but you wanted to be good for him, to behave as he had asked.
“Com—Erwin… please? It hurts so bad.”
“Shh, little one. Let me take care of you like you asked. Your skin is divine to touch… soft and smooth. It makes me want to bite it all over,” he admitted. “If you were mine, I would—” Erwin let the sentence falter, not knowing if it was wise to admit exactly what he would do if you were his. Nor did he want to admit just how badly he wanted you to be his.
“You would… what?” You tried to cajole, moving just enough so that his fingertips brushed the opposite nipple, and you let out a long exhale of relief.
He couldn’t deny you, not in this matter or any other, not right now. It was funny how there was a systemic flaw in society’s hierarchy. Alphas were meant to be the ones on top, but it wasn’t always true and especially not for those who found their mates. Omegas held the power and never was it more evident than this moment here.
Erwin Smith was your superior in the literal sense. He was the Commander of the Scout Regiment, and he held responsibility for every soldier and support worker under his command. Yet here he was in the tiny bathroom of his assistant—his direct subordinate—with his hand submerged to the elbow and his cock so hard he wanted to tear the damn thing off.
You held all the cards, and you didn’t even know it, because if you did then there was no way you wouldn’t have already pounced given the instincts running through you.
“I shouldn’t be saying this, but,” he enthused when you started to whine pitifully. “I would not have allowed for you to become as delirious as you did. It must have been agony, and you were alone—I don’t like that. Any heat can be torture to endure if you deny yourself the only plausible relief, not to mention this is your first. If you were my… mate.”
Erwin paused again; aware his hand had moved without his prior notice. He was cupping your cunt in his palms, stretching and flexing his thick fingers along the seam of your labia. With ease he sought and located your jittery bundle of nerves, circling the pad of his thumb with slow, deliberate strokes.
“Tell me, Commander— ‘wanna know how you’d treat your mate.”
“Mm. I’d have taken a leave of absence the second the signs of your cycle came to light. I’d bite that lovely creamy skin at your neck where the scent gland resides, hold you in my jaws whilst I fed my cock into your drenched cunt. I’d have loved you exactly as you deserve—worshipped every inch of your scorched skin with my mouth and hands. Whispered words of devotion into your ear until I was ready to give you my knot, and more importantly, when you were ready to take it. I’d have you come time and again until you were properly sated,” he admitted with a heated growl.
You mewled at the images he fed you, his words dripping with hungry conviction and accompanied by the ministrations of his skilful hand playing between your thighs like a damn savant.
Your imagination ran at full speed imagining the knot he would give you, of the painful pleasure from his sharpened teeth piercing the scent gland at your neck and how you wished it was the mating mark he was leaving you.
As two thick digits worked inside your aching, needy hole you thought of the fullness that would come with having his cockhead buried against the neck of your womb. Gods, you wanted to be split in half until his name was carved into your gummy walls. The searing heat of being stuffed to capacity that would be far more pleasurable, unlike the current stinging sensation you were experiencing.
You grasped at Erwin’s forearm and revelled at how the muscles flexed as he continued to pump two fingers into you, his thumb aggressively rubbing at your swollen pearl. It was just enough to bring you to the peak, the waters barely disrupted, Erwin working furiously but only from the wrist down.
“You’ve no idea how badly I want to climb into this damned tub and make you take me. I won’t. I swear it. I’ll protect you and keep you safe… from me. It’s okay. That’s it—there we go. Feel it consume you.”
He was babbling—switching rapidly between commanding and anxious. His large frame threw a shadow over you; bending more he buried his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply. You thought he might have whimpered but you were too far gone to be certain. Your nails dug bloody marks into his arm, encouraging him on until you gave one final shuddering spasm and broke apart like a star finally imploding.
Tears burned in your eyes. Your stomach contracted over and over whilst you rode out a high that didn’t last nearly as long as you had hoped it would. The desire in your gut rekindled like a dying fire fed oxygen.
What had been enough no longer was.
“Erwin… please. I’ll be so good for you, don’t hold back. I want—I need it all. Everything you described! The fullness. The bite. I want to feel your weight pressing me down, dominating me. Can you...? I just want to know what it’s like,” you wailed in utter misery, absolutely convinced that he would deny you.
“I’m a nobody,” you continued, releasing your grip on his arm to wipe at your tears. “I appreciate you even going this far. I’ll never be able to look you in the eye again, but I’ll always be grateful for this. You’re a good man, Commander Smith, I’ve admired you for years.”
His laughter warmed your heart just a little. It was robust and genuine, and whilst you wanted to turn and see for yourself what expression he wore, you didn’t want to witness pity—not from him. “You can go. Just leave me a towel and I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll sleep it off or—”
Erwin’s hand twitched and you almost yelped, biting into your tongue until you tasted coppery blood. His fingers slid along the wet pulsing length of your gummy walls and slowly rose from the water. You closed your eyes, turning away when you felt him rise to his feet.
You didn’t expect him to say anything.
You certainly didn’t expect two muscled arms to plunge into the waters and lift you up and out in one smooth action. Dripping wet from shoulders to toes, you soaked his pristine uniform shirt. Only then did you dare to peek up, and the look Erwin levelled at you… it stole your breath.
Those clever blue eyes were alight with cool fire—the flames licking around his swollen, lust-blown pupils. The thick set of his eyebrows were draw close together and he looked positively furious, but in a way that only made you squeeze your thighs together all the more.
“Don’t you ever—ever—call yourself a nobody. I may be the Commander here but behind every great figure are those in the shadows who make that figure shine brightly. My ma—I mean, my assistant is brave and beautiful,” he declared with absolute conviction.
Words alluded you.
Every single thought, other than the animal voice begging you to cling to this Alpha with every available ounce of strength and never let go, had fled. Not that you needed to speak, not when he strode from your bathroom with determined steps.
Erwin lowered you to the stained sheets of your bed and stood back with an apologetic look. “I’d offer to change them but there would be no point. We’d merely end up ruining a second set.”
The heat of your body had dried most of the water from your skin, all except the thick, tacky arousal coating your tender pussy and streaking the insides of your thighs. His head canted left when you spread your legs, bending at the knees so that he could see the most intimate part of you on full display.
“Little minx,” he teased with a wry smile. His fingers fumbled at the buckle of his belt and your gaze raked him in hungrily. “Warm yourself up for me, won’t you?”
There was no modicum of inhibition left in you. You were working on pure instinct and when you were told to warm yourself, you did just that. The heel of your palm rotated against your clit whilst you spread the lips of your pussy apart and let the fingertips fuck an inch into your cunt.
Your eyes remained glued to the man at the end of your bed. He was a powerhouse of strength and virility, thick chested and decorated with battle scars. You longed to run your fingers and tongue across each faded silvery scar—to show him just how much you appreciated his every sacrifice. Erwin shucked out of his trousers and underwear in record time, but it was not before you noted the large stains on both thighs. It made your smile turn saccharine, sultry and feminine.
The length of his cock sprung upward to smack wetly against his abdomen, but the weight was too much to stand, which left the impressive sight to hang heavily between his thighs. The golden hair on his torso seemed to glisten despite the lack of a light source in the room, and perhaps it was a trick of your eyes. He rolled his neck from side to side, never once breaking his concentration on how you were toying with yourself at his command.
He fisted his swollen cock, rolling the foreskin back until the beating red tip shone from the arousal dripping out the slit. Thick veins pulsed beneath his calloused fingers as he gave a few cursory pumps, moving his grip to his heavy pendulous balls to tug them loose from where they had nestled tightly near the base.
Muscles that only came with age, experience and dedication rolled beneath his skin, smattered by those lovely coarse hairs that you wanted to feel against your cheeks. Erwin was a handsome man, that you had always known, but naked he was even more glorious—a chiselled God.
Saliva pooled in your mouth, and you swore it seemed like your teeth elongated at the simple thought of biting into the solid wall that was his chest. His biceps. The cords in his neck. His strong jawline. Everything.
Your appreciation did not go unnoticed. If anything, it made his chest puff with pride that you would find him so attractive. For the first time in years, he had no desire to put aside his wants in favour of someone else’s.
Erwin wanted you entirely, and whilst he was certain you didn’t understand the full implication of that, he would take his time. Courting you would be a slow waltz, not some frenzied race to the finish line.
He appreciated how contrary that was given he was about to fuck you into a drooling coma, but the situation called for a drastic intervention to alleviate the both of you. It had been many years since his instincts ruled him. Your intoxicatingly sweet musk had bewitched him thoroughly.
Erwin felt like a young man again—in his prime. Back when his mind did not rule his body with an iron fist.
“If you want this,” he tugged on his shaft for emphasis, “you’ll get on your knees and present like a good Omega.”
Stepping close enough that his shins met the edge of the mattress, he observed you scrambling into position, his tongue wetting the plush of his bottom lip. He hadn’t tasted your mouth yet, something he would remedy at the earliest opportunity. Right now, you would nip and bite and snap at him, something he liked, but your first kiss should be more restrained than that.
“That’s it. Good girl… look at you dripping for me. Fuck—sway your hips like that again and we won’t leave this room until you’re round and full of my pups.”
You dropped to your elbows when you felt the bed dip behind you. Your molten cheek came to rest on the sticky sheets, the angle just enough to cut your eyes up and see him approach.
Commander Smith.
Erwin.
Alpha.
He filled his broad palms with the fat of your rump, stretching you wide until your cunt flexed in want, pushing out slick in anticipation. Erwin thumbed at your entrance before raising a hand to his mouth and licking the flat of his palm right to the tips of his fingers. The saliva felt that much hotter when it connected with your needy flesh.
You’d be mortified by the obscene squelch of your juices and his spit mingling together if you were in your right mind. It was filthy—pure and simple.
What you couldn’t see was Erwin coating himself in your abundant arousal, viscous strands succumbing to gravity to drip over his balls. He was breathing heavily now, the muscles taut in his neck and shoulders with the restraint of not being inside you. A wide mitt of a hand rested at your hip, massaging whilst he shuffled closer and let the weight of his tip notch at your cunt.
“Erwin—please! Need it now. I might di—oh my fuccccckk!”
The stretch was immediate despite how well primed you were. You knew he was thick, heavy, long… but the girth was the real killer. His cock bullied into you, inch by slow inch.
“Ha-! Don’t… squirm. You wanted this, right?”
Erwin clenched his fist to prevent the warning smack he nearly inflicted on your peachy butt. He was a lot to take, he knew that, and you were not accustomed to him—not yet.
You would learn in time. He would ruin you for anyone else.
Sweat dripped along your spine at the sweltering heat of his body engulfing yours. Erwin draped himself over you like a personal blanket, his lips and tongue and teeth exploring your skin and marking you in places you would have to contort to be able to see in the mirror come tomorrow.
“Taste divine. Smell like nirvana. Gods, your cunt is moulded to me, sweetheart. Can you feel me here?” he asked with a thrust that made your knees wobble and stars spark in your eyes. He was lodged right at your cervix, just as you had imagined when all this began, although not from the man in question.
“Uh-huh!”
It was all you could manage, drool slipping past the seam of your lips as Erwin set a pace that suited him. It wasn’t the frantic fuck you expected, neither was it slow nor deliberate like his fingers had been in the bath. What he managed to achieve was a combination of pace and force that knocked the air from your lungs each time he impaled you fully. It left you whining for him when he retreated, and soon the sensation of his balls swinging directly against your swollen little nub became so overwhelming that you were certain you wouldn’t last long.
As if he sensed your dilemma, he grunted mid-stroke and reassured you as he said, “Follow your instinct. Let your body do what it wants, what it needs. I want to feel you try to milk me.”
Erwin grunted; jaw clenched tightly. His knot was inflating, and he didn’t feel anywhere near ready for this to be over. Rationally, he knew that once would not be enough for you. There would more time to kiss and fuck and touch and learn, but he still clung to this first time like it really was his very first time.
In a way it was. It was his first time with you. It would not be his last.
The intensity of your orgasm nearly had him lose his bearing, if his wrist hadn’t caught the brunt of his weight then you would have been flattened into the mattress beneath him.
Your cunt was a greedy little thing—sucking and pulsing around his cock with little room for him to retreat. All he could do was ride out the pleasure through gritted teeth and determination not to blow his load like some young pup.
“Bi—Bite. Bite me!”
Christ… you were temptation and sin, and love and beauty all wrapped in one body.
Erwin scented along your back, mounting you like any animal would and dragging the prominent ridge of his nose over the fluttering pulse in your neck. It was beating wildly, a rhythm unique to you and he hummed his appreciation when you turned to give him more access. “Here?” he asked unnecessarily.
You chewed your lip, near delirious from the warmth and continued fullness of his cock sawing in and out of your core. He was licking the scent gland that attracted all Alphas to Omegas and Omegas to Alphas, but it was not the one on the other side that only those considered mates would bite and mark.
“Y-yes.”
A lie. He could smell it.
“Are you sure?”
“I-I… of course!”
Erwin smiled into your skin and sighed, knowing he was reaching his limit. “You are not being honest with me, but that’s okay. I won’t press you right now, we will have time.”
“Oh god. This won’t be enough?” You whimpered in realisation, shame coating your features and you were glad he couldn’t see how flushed your face was.
“Can you feel my knot growing?”
You nodded once, meekly, and he continued. “Once I plug you as nature intended, you will be fine for a good few hours, certainly until we can part safely. It’ll be enough for you to sleep and actually rest, but no… it will not be enough. I’m not going anywhere, darling.”
“But you have duties! You’re the fucking Commander… why are you laughing?” you asked with an evident pout.
“I think you’ll find you’re fucking the Commander.”
“Really? We’re really going to do dad level jokes whilst you’re balls deep and I’m desperate for you to bite my damn neck and knot me? Hey—mmm.”
Your wits scattered once again as Erwin spread his weight further, mounting you more fully than you thought possible. He braced one palm at the small of your spine and his jaw snapped wide.
His teeth grazed your earlobe, the sharp points travelling past the carotid artery until his hot breath huffed out in a wave of heat that tickled down your spine. He was losing his pace, hips beginning to snap harsher against your perfectly plump rear in a faltering tempo. You held your breath as you sensed the moment near.
He was so deep—so damn deep in your guts. Erwin lunged for you, his jaw stretched, and his perfectly pointed canines pierced into your flesh like a hot knife through butter. It made you tense all over, your walls clamping down around his ready to burst cock and it tripped his orgasm with a blinding flash. Heat unlike anything you had ever experienced speared your insides, and for a second it felt like your innards might be cooked alive.
Wave after wave of cum painted the neck of your womb. Your neck throbbed from where he held you in his beastly maw. His tongue lapped at the skin trapped between his teeth, soothing the hurt in any way he could whilst he grunted and growled spilling inside you endlessly.
You could feel the knot ballooning. It travelled further into your body, and you’d be damned if you could accurately describe the sensation. In simple terms it felt like you were being filled and stretched to the very limit of your body’s elasticity.
Finally, it came to rest right where it was needed most. A stopper for any seed escaping and you knew that it could be some time before you could untangle from each other. The orgasm from having Erwin’s potent essence flood your cunt was unlike any other.
It felt like it soothed the animal inside and sent it into a tranquil slumber. With a final cry of bliss, your knees slid out from under you and sent you both falling the final few inches to the mattress below.
Erwin licked over the wound he had inflicted, wincing at the harsh purple bite mark and dribbles of blood oozing sluggishly from the shallow wound. Hooking an arm around your front, he shifted you both, so his weight was no longer suffocating you, shushing your little whimpers when the repositioning slightly moved how you were joined.
“Sleep, my pretty little Omega. Let me watch over you.” Let me trace my fingertips over the curve of your shoulder, memorise the position of every freckle and divot in your skin.
He left those parts out, afraid of overwhelming you. Fearful that you might agree to things simply because of his power and position. There was no doubt in his mind that you were his mate, but could you say the same about him?
Erwin listened to your breathing even out, the heat dissipating from your skin until you were comfortable enough to nuzzle your face into the crook of his elbow beneath you. Strands of your hair fell across your eyes, and he was careful to move them aside to watch your eyelashes flutter in sleep.
What a lie it was… that an Alpha had all the power.
You could make or break him completely. You were the Goddess in his world and the fear of not being enough for you tore at his heart. He dropped his head to your shoulder and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come and soothe him like it was for you.
“I can’t wait to kiss you under the moonlight. When you accept me as your man, your mate, your Alpha.
I will change this world for the better… for you.”
☆ Summary: The Scouts bet you that Captain Levi won’t respond to your flirting. You’re determined to prove them wrong, but Levi has never been the kind of man to let someone else control the game.
☆ Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, light dom/sub, marking, power imbalance, unprotected piv
☆ Word Count: 9.8k
☆ AO3 Link
☆ a/n: This was the winning poll option for the 400 follower celebration! THANK YOU TO THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AMAZING WONDERFUL @slaytherinthoughts FOR BETA READING <333
[ Art by Pixiv Id 49949467 ]
Your favorite part of the day has always been dinner time. The dining hall always gets loud, exhaustion loosening everyone’s tongues so laughter spills easier and smiles come brighter. It’s usually the same thing every night—Sasha trying to barter food from everyone, Eren and Jean arguing about something stupid and menial again before Mikasa cuts in and threatens to kick both of their asses, and Ymir showering Christa with love and affection.
You’re halfway through your stew, watching how Mikasa has slowly been moving the carrots she doesn’t want into Eren’s bowl while he talks too passionately to realize it. Your conversation had somehow shifted from your last assessment scores to which superior officers would be easiest to flirt with. Not exactly the most appropriate conversation, but hey, it should be expected of a group of twenty-something year-olds.
Jean suddenly snorts into his cup and says, “Captain Levi is incapable of being flustered.”
Connie barks out a laugh. “Captain Levi? Yeah, no. I think if you flirted with him, he’d just tell you your posture was shit.”
“He might blush if someone compliments his cleaning,” Sasha says.
You laugh at the thought of Levi turning pink over you complimenting his polishing of the floorboards. It’s almost charming. But you’re pulled back into the reality of things quickly, reminded by the sure fact that Levi would be the type to make you run sixty laps for even breathing wrong in his direction. At least he would look irritatingly beautiful barking orders at you.
“Maybe he just needs someone hot to compliment him,” Connie says.
Ymir, sitting beside Christa with one arm draped over her shoulders, rolls her eyes. “Please. That man could walk through a brothel and find the mop sexier.”
The table erupts into laughter. Armin drops his face into one hand, already checked out of the conversation. Christa turns scarlet but presses her lips together, very clearly trying not to laugh. Jean wheezes, and even Mikasa lets out a small, polite laugh. You shouldn’t laugh as hard as you do, because if Levi heard your conversation right now he would probably bury you all six feet under.
Then Eren, who has never met a stupid idea he couldn’t charge at headfirst, leans forward with bright eyes and says, “Someone should test it.”
You pause, nervously playing with the charm of your necklace. Jean is the first to look at you. Then Connie. Then Sasha. Then Ymir, a little more wickedly.
“No,” you say immediately, because you know that look, and you know yourself. “No.”
Jean grins. “Come on.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re the only one who could pull it off.”
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”
“You say things to the officers that none of us would ever say,” Connie points out. It would be rude if it weren’t true.
“Maybe you could only do it for a week?” Christa offers.
“A week?” you echo, already feeling the dangerous little spark of interest light inside you. The worst part is that they’re not entirely wrong; you are bold, you are blunt, and you have secretly spent far too much time wondering what it would take to make Levi Ackerman’s perfect composure crack, even if only by a little. “You’re giving me a week to flirt with humanity’s most emotionally repressed man?”
“Get a reaction,” Jean corrects.
“Define reaction,” Armin says.
“Blushing counts,” Eren says.
“Stammering counts,” Jean adds.
“Looking away counts,” Christa says.
“No it doesn’t,” Ymir scoffs. “That could just mean he hates you.”
You cock your head. “To be fair, I think he does hate me.”
“He hates everyone,” Mikasa mumbles.
“What if he flirts back?” Armin asks.
Eren scoffs loudly. “Captain Levi? Flirt back? Be serious.”
Your stomach twists at the thought. You can’t even imagine Levi doing anything as human as flirting. But what if he were to step a little too close, lower his voice to a smooth cadence, fix his eyes on yours and then your lips and then smash his mouth against—
Nope. You’re not going down that mental road again.
You set your spoon down and touch your necklace again. Everyone is watching you intensely. The best move here is to refuse. It’s the most sensible move. Captain Levi isn’t a toy for your entertainment. Making a game out of a man who can kill Titans like swatting flies is going to land you in deep shit. You know that.
And yet, you still smile. “A week?” you ask, leaning back with a confident half-shrug. “Give me three days.”
Jean’s grin widens. “That confidence is exactly why we picked you.”
Ymir snorts into her cup. “No. We picked her because she has no sense of self-preservation. And she’s a fucking idiot.”
The worst part is you can’t even argue with that. Game on.
.
Day one, you begin with too much confidence and nowhere near enough strategy, which, in hindsight, is probably the natural consequence of accepting a bet over dinner while surrounded by idiots.
You see Levi just after breakfast, walking through the corridor with a stack of reports in his arms. He looks somewhat more annoyed today, but because Eren and Jean are watching from around the far corner—not very subtly, might you add—and because you refuse to lose your nerve on the first attempt, you slow your steps just enough to pass him shoulder-to-shoulder and say sweetly, “You look good today, Captain.”
Levi doesn’t stop or look at you. He doesn’t even blink in a way that could potentially be considered meaningful, unless you’re desperate enough to start seeing romantic symbolism in basic human functions now. He simply keeps walking, the scent of his soap trailing behind slapping you in the face. You’re left standing there in the middle of the corridor with your mouth still curved into a smile. Meanwhile, at the end of the hall, Jean presses a fist to his mouth to stop himself from laughing and Eren mouths, Nothing?
Nothing. Not a twitch, not a glance, not even a disgusted little sigh. Fine, you think, watching Levi disappear around the corner. Eren and Jean shoot upright and pretend to engage in conversation, though it’s horribly broken and awkward from what you can hear. The moment Levi’s footsteps fade, Jean shoves Eren’s shoulder, and Eren shoves him back.
First shot missed. Happens to the best of us.
.
By day two, you decide subtlety is the coward’s way.
You happen to run into Levi again in the supply closet. While you’re searching for a specific cleaner, the door opens behind you and he steps inside. Suddenly the cramped room seems to shrink even further. There’s barely enough space for both of you to stand without brushing elbows. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that you’re so close, naturally.
Instead, he reaches past you for a rag on the shelf above your shoulder. He leans close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. Your muscles lock momentarily. Damn him for being so attractive. Still, you manage to tilt your chin up and say, “Careful, Captain. Any closer and people might start talking.”
He pulls back and looks at you. For a second, you think you’ll get something. A stammer, a blush if you’re lucky, but Levi only looks unimpressed. It’s the exact same look he gives soldiers when he manages to find a speck of dust after three straight hours of cleaning.
“People already talk,” he says flatly. “Usually because you give them material.”
You swallow a laugh. Damn him. You lean your shoulder against the shelf, trying not to focus on the fact that your pulse has just spiked dramatically. “Oh, we can give them plenty of material.”
Levi takes the rag, steps back, then leaves.
.
By day three, you’re beginning to suspect the bet is cursed.
You’re gathered in the yard for ODM training. Your friends have formed a not-so-suspicious circle across the field. You see them gathered with a false innocence, sneaking glances at you, favoring the potential spectacle awaiting them over doing anything useful.
You check your gear and realize one of your straps at your thigh is loose, the buckle hanging awkwardly against your leg. Before you can crouch down to fix it yourself, someone approaches.
“Hold still,” Levi says.
You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you obey. He crouches in front of you and grabs the loose strap before you can object. There’s nothing intimate about it, nothing that should make heat rush to your face—and yet it does. You look down at his dark hair and the concentration on his face and think to yourself, this is fine. This is normal. He’s just fixing your gear. You’re not going to die.
Then you remember the bet. Now’s your chance.
“You always this good with your hands, Captain?” you ask, nervously toying with your necklace.
Across the yard, Connie visibly folds in half. Eren grabs Mikasa by the sleeve. Sasha’s mouth drops open. Levi tightens the buckle with one tug and looks up at you, his expression so blank it’s almost hostile in a way.
“Only when someone’s done a shit job and I have to fix it,” he says.
You stare at him as he walks away, unaware of the others across the yard silently screaming into the void.
.
By day four, your pride is no longer bruised. It’s limping, bleeding, and asking whether anyone saw the driver of the carriage that hit it.
You’re cleaning one of the common rooms with a scrub brush in hand and a flicker of annoyance in your heart when Levi comes to inspect the progress. He steps inside, surveys the floor, the windowsill, the table legs, underneath the tables, and even the door handle.
“Do it over,” he says.
You slowly turn your head toward him. “Excuse me?”
His gaze flicks to the windowsill. “Dust.”
You look behind you at the window. Tragically, there’s dust. It wouldn’t matter to a normal person, but Captain Levi is far from normal when it comes to cleanliness. “You’re very hard to impress, Captain,” you say, forcing your voice to carry a teasing tone instead of something that makes it clear how badly you want to throw the rag at his head.
Levi looks at you, and he doesn’t look away. Standing under his intense gaze like this makes your stomach clench in ways you don’t even want to think about. “And you’re very easy to ignore.”
Your smile twitches before you can stop it. That one stings a bit more. You know Levi isn’t above personal insults, but were you really that forgettable to him? You manage to muster up a bit more courage and say, “You know, I’m more skilled in other areas.”
Levi only quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head. That was enough to pull him in, it seems. Success. “How so?”
You smile, because finally, you’ve found the opening. “You’re not the only one who’s good with their hands.”
Silence. Such deep silence that you could hear a pin drop. Levi holds your gaze for exactly one second before he says, almost bored, “Knock it off and get back to work.”
And just like that, he moves on with his day, leaving you standing in the room with a rag in your hand, a burning face, and a grim realization that you may have underestimated both his composure and his commitment to making you feel like an idiot.
.
The moment you sit down at dinner that night, Connie leans across the table and hides his mouth from the view of the superiors’ table with his hand. “Nothing?”
You drop your head into your hand. “Nothing.”
“Not even a blink?”
“He has eyes, Connie. He’s going to blink,” Mikasa says without looking up from her bowl.
Sasha groans and slumps dramatically over the table, one hand still clutching her apple. “We’re doomed.”
You groan too, louder. “No, just me.”
Jean makes a sympathetic noise that’s ruined completely by the fact that he’s smiling. “You still have three days left.”
“Three days to accomplish the impossible,” Eren mumbles.
Armin, kinder than the rest, tilts his head. “Maybe you need to adjust your approach.”
“My approach is fine,” you say.
“Your approach is dogshit,” Ymir says.
Christa gives you an almost apologetic smile, which makes you feel even worse. You stab at the softened carrots in your stew with one hand and toy with your necklace with the other. Every time you touch it, you remember your mother’s hands in yours, the cold metal in your palm, her soft words wishing you safety and prosperity. You long to see her again. Soon, you think. Soon.
You force yourself to not look toward the officers’ side of the hall, where Levi sits with Hange and Erwin, drinking tea without a care in the world—as if he hasn’t spent the last four days ignoring your best efforts. It should be funny. It was funny, at first. But now his lack of a reaction has begun to get under your skin, turning challenge into irritation, then irritation into a feeling that’s far more embarrassing, because it’s one thing for Levi to ignore the flirting and another thing entirely for him to make you feel like he’s ignoring you.
It’s personal now, you decide.
.
Levi thinks this is the most irritating week of his life, by far.
It’s not distracting enough to matter, and certainly not enough to affect his work, but it’s definitely irritating. And persistent. You are persistent. You’re always there. In hallways, in supply rooms, in the training grounds, always pushing and pushing, waiting for him to break at the seams.
Levi doesn’t crack. He’s survived this long by being difficult to shake. Still, he thinks about it—about you—more than he should, and that annoys him the most.
Levi walks into the stables. Hay bales are stacked neatly against the wall. The tack is all lined up and organized in the storage room. He’s only searching for a harness clip, nothing more, because apparently grown soldiers can’t keep equipment where it belongs. He barely passes the first row of stalls before voices reach him from the far end. He recognizes them. Eren, Jean, Armin. Levi stops before they see him.
“Told you,” Eren says with a hint of smugness. “Captain Levi doesn’t flirt.”
Levi’s brows shift by the smallest degree.
“She still has two days, Armin says, a little quieter. “And honestly, he’s been looking at her more than usual.”
“Looking annoyed doesn’t count,” Jean laughs. “He looks at everyone like that.”
Levi freezes for a moment, then swallows. Then Eren speaks again, painfully unaware of the grave he’s digging with both hands. “Doesn’t matter. The bet was to make him react. She’s been flirting with him for five days and he hasn’t done anything.”
Levi doesn’t know what to feel at first. Then annoyance practically slams into him. Of course the sudden compliments, the lingering looks, the suggestive comments delivered with too much confidence and nowhere near enough survival instinct are not lapses in judgement but a coordinated effort by the loudest collection of children to ever survive to adulthood.
He almost steps out. He almost makes them regret every syllable. He almost assigns all three of them stable duty until their hands smell permanently of horse shit. He almost leaves to go find you and drag you into his office and inform you that if you have enough free time to treat your commanding officer like a tavern dare, you have enough free time to scrub every inch of the barracks.
But he doesn’t. He remains where he is, half-shadowed beside the tack shelves, and thinks of you when you were in the supply closet with him, your chin tipped up and your mouth spilling smooth words you clearly expected to land, of the flash of irritation in your eyes when he refused to give you anything back.
So, you’ve been trying to break him in front of an audience. Bold. Stupid. And mildly interesting. You want a reaction from him. No. More than that. You want proof that he can be moved, that there’s something you can reach underneath all the discipline and deadpan remarks if you’re reckless enough to keep trying.
Fine. Let’s see how well you handle it when he stops being polite.
He turns without a sound, leaving the missing clip for someone else to find and the three idiots still talking at the far end of the stable, none of them aware that the terms of the bet have just changed.
Two days then. If you wanted a reaction that badly, he could give you one.
.
Day six begins badly, which, considering the trajectory of the week so far, should not surprise you. The morning vanishes beneath papers and one disaster involving Connie dropping a crate of replacement gas canisters. You’re on the last thin shred of your patience. By the time late afternoon rears its ugly head, you’re tired and hungry, having spent five days throwing stones at a wall. You’re considering whether you should just run headfirst into it. But you can’t give up. That would be mortifying. Also Jean would never let you hear the end of it.
So when you turn the corner into the east corridor and nearly collide with Levi himself, you decide the universe has not abandoned you entirely. He stops before you can hit him, and you catch yourself with one hand against the wall, your heart giving a stupid little kick as you look at him. He looks as he always does: composed, mouth set in a flat line, irritatingly clean despite the hour.
Fine, you think, dragging your confidence up by the collar. One more time.
You let your smile come slowly, forgetting how the last few days have been consistent public humiliation. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me, Captain.”
Normally, this is where he would keep walking. Normally, he would ignore you and tell you to find something useful to do. But Levi stops beside you, close enough that the corridor feels smaller, close enough that you can smell the last cup of tea he had still lingering on his lips. He turns his head, eyes meeting yours from the side. Your smile falters.
“Why would I?” he asks. Your breath hitches—stupidly. The words themselves are nothing, barely a response, but it’s the way he said them, in a way you’ve never heard from him before, that makes the world stop for just a single second. Then his gaze drops, briefly, and he says, “You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”
You forget how to answer. Your mind produces absolutely nothing. You can’t find a single comeback or tease. You technically got him to react, and you should be celebrating, but you can only focus on the fact that Levi has just taken the same game you’ve been playing all week and held it against your throat.
Before you can recover emotionally, he turns and walks away. Just like that.
You remain there, your hand now nervously touching your charm necklace, staring at him while your heart nearly explodes out of your chest. The worst part isn’t that he answered, but that he answered like he knew exactly what it would do to you.
No. Absolutely not. This is not happening. You are the one flirting with him. You’re the one with the bet, the plan, the reputation for saying things no one else dares to say, and Levi is supposed to be an immovable force. He is not supposed to look at you like that.
And you are not supposed to feel this way in return.
.
Dinner approaches, and you almost manage to convince yourself that you imagined it.
He was probably being sarcastic. You’re tired and frustrated and maybe starvation has you seeing seduction where it doesn’t exist. Levi’s voice is always low, his eyes are always intense, and your imagination just lost its grip because you’ve spent too many days thinking about him.
The mess hall doors open onto chaos. Everyone is trying to leave and enter at once. Soldiers are pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the crowded corridor, laughter and complaints tangling with the clatter of dishes from inside. You’re caught near the doorway, half-turned as Jean calls to you from the table and Mikasa waves to you.
You start to step aside when you feel a hand settle at the small of your back. Levi moves behind you, close enough that his chest nearly brushes your shoulder as he guides you smoothly out of the flow of traffic. His palm rests low on your back for a moment longer than necessary. Your lungs practically stop working.
“You’re in the way,” he says.
You turn your head, because apparently you’re feeling particularly self-destructive tonight and want to look directly at the weapon killing you. You find him already watching you. Your mind tells you to take the mercy of silence and leave with whatever remains of your dignity.
But because your survival instincts are apparently the worst and will always lose to your mouth, you say, “You always touch your subordinates like that?”
His hand slips from your back, his eyes holding yours as he answers, low enough that the noise swallows it before anyone else can hear. “You always like getting touched by your superiors, or is it just me?”
Your mouth parts. Nothing comes out. Levi’s eyes flick, very briefly, to your lips, then he steps around you and walks into the mess hall like he didn’t just completely make you short circuit. You stand there in the doorway, heat rushing to your face so fast it nearly makes you dizzy. You reach up to touch your necklace again. You still feel the burn of his palm against your back.
No, no, no. That did not happen. Captain Levi did not just say that to you in a crowded hallway. Captain Levi, who has spent five days ignoring your every attempt to flirt, did not just choose now, now, in front of the open mess hall doors where your idiot friends are sitting within view, to say that.
You turn slowly toward the dining hall. At the table, every single one of them is staring. Eren has a spoon halfway to his mouth. Mikasa is watching you calmly, as she always does. Ymir is smiling widely. Jean’s eyebrows are raised to his hairline. You walk to the table on stumbling legs and sit down shakily.
Jean speaks first. “Well?”
You reach to pick up your spoon, then you realize there is no spoon. You haven’t even gotten your food yet. “W-what?”
“What happened?” Connie demands. “We saw him stop.”
“Did he react?” Eren asks. “Did he blush? Stammer? Look away?”
“Nothing happened,” you say a little too quickly.
Armin tilts his head. “Nothing?”
“Nothing,” you repeat, trying not to spontaneously combust from the inside out.
Eren squints at you. “Why do you look like you just ran thirty laps?”
“Because I hate all of you.”
Sasha gasps softly. “Even me?”
“Especially you,” you joke.
“Oh, come on. Something happened,” Jean laughs.
“Nothing happened.”
“You’re flustered,” Christa says gently. Damn it, of course it had to be her who noticed.
“It’s hot in here.”
“It’s winter,” Mikasa says. You glare at her.
Ymir leans forward, elbows on the table as she rests her chin on her linked hands. “Oh, something definitely happened.”
“It didn’t,” you insist, even though your skin is still burning where his hand touched your back.
The bet was supposed to be simple. You flirt. Levi refuses to react. You keep pushing until you either win through charm or lose with enough grace to pretend you never cared. At no point was he supposed to turn around and make you feel like the bet had never belonged to you at all.
You stand up and grab your food, your cheeks still hot and shoulders stiff. When you sit back down, Ymir’s gaze follows you. She knows. She absolutely knows. But you tell yourself again that nothing happened as you stab a potato hard enough that it breaks apart in your bowl.
Nothing happened. And if that’s true, then you’re in far more trouble than you thought, because apparently Levi can do absolutely nothing and still ruin you.
.
It’s the final day. The day you either make Captain Levi blush, stammer, or lose composure, or you lose the bet and spend the rest of your life—however short that may be—listening to Eren and Jean taunting you and becoming the most smug humans to ever exist on this earth. You’re much less confident than you were when you started, and truthfully, you’re ready to take the loss and humiliation.
The training yard is blue with the early morning, fog clinging low to the ground while the first soldiers trickle in with their gear half-fastened and their faces pinched against the chill. You stand near the equipment racks with your ODM harness hanging around your hips. Your fingers feel slightly clumsier than usual as you tighten the buckle at your waist. It’s not that you’re nervous. You’re just tired and cold. You’re aware that Levi has spent the last twenty-four hours looking at you as if he knows something you don’t, touching you where he doesn’t need to touch you, speaking in a voice that, franky, should be illegal, and then walking away like nothing ever happened.
You tug the buckle too hard and it nearly pulls the breath out of you. Then it falls loose, and you mutter a low, “Shit.”
You feel someone move behind you. Your heart reacts before the rest of you does.
“Your waist buckle is loose.”
You close your eyes for a brief second. Damn the universe for sending him. If you’re going to lose, you might as well go out strong. “I’ve got it,” you say.
“You don’t,” Levi says.
Before you can argue, he steps in behind you. His hands rise to your waist, grabbing the buckle you were fumbling with, and your spine straightens so fast you might as well have been pulled up by a wire. He’s so damn close. Too damn close.
There are people in the yard. Not many, but enough. Enough that you can’t turn around and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, enough that you can’t grab his wrist, enough that you can’t do anything except stand there and pretend him correcting your gear isn’t an act of psychological warfare.
His voice lowers near your ear. “You’re distracted.”
“I’m not,” you say a little too fast.
Levi pulls the buckle tight, enough to force a little “mmph” out of you. You swear you hear him scoff in amusement. “You are.”
“I’m perfectly focused.”
“You’re slower.” His knuckles brush, barely, against your stomach as he tightens the leather. “Your breathing’s off.”
As if your body is eager to prove him right, your breath hitches. You hate him. You hate him so much you want to bite him. You angle your head just enough to speak over your shoulder. “Did you come over here to critique my breathing?”
“No.” He leans in just enough that his next words touch the edge of your ear. “I’m wondering what’s on your mind.” Your first name falls from his lips. You despise how much you like to hear him say it.
Your brain, which has faced Titans, blood, death, and the endless exhaustion of military life, simply abandons you. “I—nothing,” you say, the word catching in your throat.
Levi freezes for a breath, then finishes buckling your gear. He withdraws his hands, but he doesn’t step back immediately. The absence of his touch feels somehow worse than the touch itself.
“Save your filthy little thoughts about me for later,” he says.
You freeze. There’s no possible response. Nothing clever nor dignified. Nothing that doesn’t immediately reveal your thoughts, filthy or otherwise. But you realize they’ve already been dragged into broad daylight and inspected by the one man you least want to have that power.
Levi steps around you casually with a perfectly neutral expression, acting as if he hasn’t taken your last functioning nerve between his teeth and smiled around it. You stand there, frozen, your entire body burning.
Maybe this bet was a bad idea.
.
By midday, you’re coming to terms with the fact that you’re no longer trying to win the bet. You’re just trying to survive the damn thing.
The realization comes to you somewhere between drills and the deeply inconvenient moment when Sasha asks why you keep looking like you expect someone to sneak up on you. Because that’s exactly what it feels like right now; like every corridor has become a battlefield and every corner might contain Levi with another clever line ready to slide under your skin and make its home there.
He’s only doing this because he knows, somehow, because he’s figured out the bet or sensed weakness or simply decides that torturing you is a productive use of his time. That’s what you try to tell yourself, anyway. But none of those explanations quell the heat in your stomach. None of them make you stop remembering the low cadence of his voice. None of them help when you take the stairwell after grabbing a stack of reports to deliver and find him descending from the floor above, eyes already fixed on you as if he knew exactly where you would be.
Your first instinct is to step aside. Your second is to flee. Your third, which is unfortunately the one you choose, is to fight.
Levi reaches the landing and moves as if to pass you, not stopping, not granting you so much as the satisfaction of another look, and you feel your pride explode in your chest. This is reckless, but when have you ever not been reckless? It led you here, after all.
“If I didn’t know better, Captain, I’d think you were coming onto me,” you say.
Levi stops. Slowly, he turns. His face is unreadable, but his eyes are not empty. They are darkened, focused purely on you and filled with so much control it feels more dangerous than if he had simply smiled.
“You’d know if I were coming onto you,” he says.
A warning. A door. A line on the floor with your toes already over it. Leave it alone. Let him go. Remember that there are only a few hours left in this ridiculous bet and the safest thing in the world would be to stop poking at the man who’s already proven he knows exactly how to make you forget your own name without even touching you.
Stupidly, you say, “Would I?”
For a moment, nothing happens—then Levi steps closer. A single step that takes the distance between you and closes it. His boots echo quietly against the stone. Your back doesn’t touch the wall yet, but every part of you understands that it could. He leans in and you go still. It’s just enough room to move away. But you don’t. His breath brushes your ear as he speaks.
“You’d know,” he says, voice so low the words barely survive the air between you, “because I’d have you backed against this wall and make damn sure you remembered who you were teasing.”
You swear you feel your knees give out. There’s no other way to describe it. A part of you dips, a violent little swoop of heat and shock and want that leaves your fingers tightening around the reports until the papers bend.
Levi draws back just enough to look at you, almost patiently, able to see every ruined thought passing across your face—and he has all the time in the world to watch you suffer through them. You force your mouth open, but nothing coherent arrives. His gaze drops once to your hands clenched around the reports, then he steps past you, the sleeve of his jacket brushing your arm.
You nearly pass out when his footsteps finally fade away.
.
Hours later, after dinner, you and your friends gather in the yard, warm with lantern light and the fading noise of the day. The sky above the barracks deepens into a royal blue. You sit on the grass with your friends, trying to look as normal as possible and most likely miserably failing.
The bet is nearly over. You’ve technically won it, but for some reason, you don’t want to admit it, because if you do, the things Levi said and did become real. Still, you don’t tell them anything. Connie is looking at the stars, Sasha is finishing the last of her crackers that she snuck out of the mess hall, Jean is laying down with his hands behind his head, Mikasa is watching the yard, and Ymir keeps glancing at you with an expression that suggests she knows there’s blood in the water and she’s simply waiting for you to admit you’ve been bitten.
Eren is the one who finally breaks. He waits until the last bell rings from somewhere inside the barracks, marking the end of the day. He smiles and looks at you so smugly it makes you want to slap him.
“That’s it,” he says. “Told you. Captain Levi doesn’t give a shit about romance.”
The others groan, laugh, and argue, immediately debating technicalities, because Jean insists there may still be time if Levi walks through the yard in the next thirty seconds, and Connie says you should just sprint inside and say something ridiculous in case it works.
You hear it all from very far away, because you know with certainty that Levi didn’t blush, nor stammer, nor look away. He didn’t lose. Not where anyone could see, at least. Eren is right. Jean is right. Everyone is right.
But they don’t know about the corridor, about his hand at your back, about the training yard and the filthy little thoughts he somehow spoke into existence just by naming them; they don’t know about the stairwell, about the way his voice lowered just for you, about the wall that never touched your back but has been haunting you for hours anyway.
You sit there in the grass with your face turned toward the darkening yard, letting the others mourn and gloat around you, while the memory of his words presses insistently at the forefront of your mind.
You’d know.
You press your lips together and say nothing, because the truth is yours now—and Levi’s.
And that might be worse than losing.
.
Several days pass, and in that time, Levi Ackerman becomes a ghost. He’s somehow everywhere and nowhere at once. In the courtyard while you’re sharpening your blades, standing at the edge of the formation while you run drills, passing through the dining hall with a cup of tea in one hand; and every time you see him, every time his eyes flick over you, your mind drags itself to the stairwell again.
You try to be normal about it. Privately, you fail, but in public, you’re a master of composure—or at least that’s what you tell yourself every time you miss a cue or spend a full three seconds staring at Levi’s mouth during morning briefing. You spend too long trying not to think about him, and the act of thinking about him suddenly becomes the only thing you know how to do.
Then the summons comes, delivered after dinner by a junior soldier, who says, with a nervous little glance over his shoulder, that Captain Levi wants to see you in his office.
“Did he say why?” you ask.
The soldier clears his throat. “Performance issues.”
The others at the table look at you with a mix of confusion and pity, but you don’t look back at them. You simply stand, smooth down your jacket, and walk out of the dining hall while desperately trying to ignore the fact that your heart is about to explode.
Outside Levi’s office, you lift your hand to knock, but you pause when you become aware of the warmth gathering underneath your collar. This is ridiculous. You’re a soldier. You’ve faced Titans. You’ve bled, trained, survived, laughed in the face of exhaustion, taken orders from men twice as loud and half as terrifying, and you are not going to break down just because Levi asked to speak with you behind a closed door.
You knock.
“Come in.”
You open the door. Levi’s office is exactly as it always is; painfully neat, the shelves orderly and every stack of papers aligned neatly. A single lantern burns on his desk, where he sits with a report open in front of him and a cup of tea sitting near his right hand. He doesn’t look up immediately, and it makes the knot in your stomach tighten.
“You wanted to see me, Captain?” you ask, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.
Levi lifts his eyes and says, “Sit.”
Your spine reacts to the order first as you enter the room and sit in the chair opposite his desk with as much grace as you can muster, which isn’t a lot under the circumstances.
“Am I in trouble?” you ask.
Levi leans back slightly, his fingers resting against the edge of the report. He studies you carefully. “Depends how honest you plan on being.” You smile despite the cold chill running down your spine. He narrows his eyes at you. “Your focus has been shit.”
Well. Not the line you expected, maybe, but the tone is familiar enough to turn into irritation, and you’d rather deal with irritation than the other feeling gathering in your stomach.
“My focus is fine,” you say, more meekly than you’d like.
“No, it isn’t.” Levi closes the report. “Your turns were wide during drills yesterday. Your reaction time was slow this morning. You checked your gear and didn’t realize your gas pressure regulation valve was broken.”
Your lips part, then close again. Damn him. “That was one mistake.”
“Several mistakes.”
“I was tired.”
“You’ve been tired before. You’re sloppier when you’re distracted. And you’ve been distracted.”
Heat starts rushing to your face. “Is that what this is about? My form?”
“It’s about performance issues.”
Your body locks up. Levi’s expression doesn’t change, and that’s the worst part, because his face remains perfectly neutral while the words crawl under your skin, dragging every memory of the last two weeks with them. His hand at your lower back, his voice at your ear, his proximity in the stairwell, his near-command to save your filthy thoughts for later. You try to breathe through your nose.
“My performance is fine,” you say.
“It’s shit,” he says.
You grip the arms of the chair a bit tighter. “Did you just call me in here to insult me?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Levi sits in the silence for a moment, then he says, “Next time you make a bet involving me, pick a group of idiots that won’t talk about it loudly.”
You swear your stomach drops so fast that the whole room spins around you. Your vision blurs and your mind scrambles backward through every report, every hallway attempt, every bold little comment you’d thrown at him. He knew. Levi knew.
You stare at him, completely frozen, shame flooding through you before anger surges to meet it. Not only did he know, but he had let you keep going, watched you struggle, and taken the game from your hands and turned it against you.
“You knew?” you say.
“Since day five.”
Your face burns. The air in the office suddenly feels suffocating. “And you just let me keep going?”
You swear you see Levi’s eyes glint with amusement. “No. I started playing.”
You stand suddenly, chair scraping back against the floor loudly. “That was petty, Captain. Were you trying to embarrass me?”
“You’re the one who was trying to make me blush in front of half the regiment.”
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out, because he’s infuriatingly, humiliatingly right, and he knows it. “That was different,” you say weakly.
“How?”
“It was a bet.”
“Mm.” Levi steps out from behind the desk. “That makes it better?”
You hold your ground as he rounds the desk, though you become increasingly aware of the closed door, his desk behind you as you turn around, how his shoes make almost no sound against the floor. Your pulse skips.
“It was harmless,” you say.
“It was stupid.”
“You didn’t seem to mind.”
His eyes lock onto yours. “No. I didn’t.”
Your back suddenly meets the edge of the desk. You hadn’t even realized you were stepping back. Levi doesn’t touch you, but he steps close enough that the space between you becomes a silent dare, and when his hands come down on either side of you, palms braced against the desk, you’re caged without being held. Trapped only because neither of you has chosen to move.
He’s left you room to step away. You could step away. But he’s so close. He’s close enough that you can see the shadows beneath his eyes and the faint scar above his eyebrow. Your breath thins. Levi’s gaze sharpens on you.
“You’re very bold when there’s an audience,” he murmurs.
You swallow, but your throat feels dry. “And when there isn’t?”
For the first time, something almost like a smile threatens the corner of his mouth. He cocks his head slightly. “That’s what I called you here to find out.”
The office goes silent. It presses around you, filling the space between your faces, making you conscious of every small thing surrounding you: the desk biting into your thighs, the faint scent of tea gone cold, the lantern flame shifting in its glass, Levi’s hands braced on either side of you, close enough that your own fingers could reach his wrists if you dared.
Your anger is still there, and your embarrassment too, but beneath both, beneath the humiliation of being caught and the fury of being played, something else opens its eyes, a recklessness that’s starving for touch. It’s been alive since the corridor, since the stairwell, since the first time Levi turned the game back on you.
His gaze drops to your mouth. Yours drops to his. Neither of you moves. You can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears now, unsteady despite your best efforts to calm it. Your hands grip the desk behind you. The urge to say something snarky leaps to your lips, but you have nothing. You’re completely, utterly speechless.
But you feel the smallest flare of courage. And with that courage, you’re able to whisper three simple words.
“I dare you.”
The kiss is nowhere near gentle. It’s controlled for a single second, just a firm press of his mouth against yours, like he’s giving you exactly one moment to pull away; and when you don’t move, when your hands leave the desk to grab his cravat and pull him deeper in, his restraint breaks. He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s been counting every reckless word you threw at him and has finally decided to answer all of them at once.
Your legs press into the desk as his body leans in, one hand leaving the wood to rest on your waist, the other sliding to your jaw. You make a small sound against his mouth that you would absolutely deny under oath, but Levi hears it, feels it, and answers by tilting your head exactly how he wants it. Your thoughts turn into complete static, but only one breaks through.
This is the reaction you wanted. Not a blush or a stammer. This.
Levi pulls away to breathe, his mouth still close enough to brush yours. His hand is still firm at your waist. You don’t speak, and neither does he. You notice the darkening of his eyes. Yours are fixed on his mouth. Then his thumb moves along your jaw.
“You wanted honest,” he says quietly.
You smile against his mouth and whisper, “I wanted a reaction.”
Levi scoffs. “You got one.”
His mouth crashes back into yours, tongue sliding against yours. One of his hands fists in the fabric at your lower back, pulling you against him. The other cups the nape of your neck, holding you exactly where he wants you. You feel the way his breath hitches once before he deepens the kiss even further. He’s done waiting.
He tears his mouth away again, voice low and rough. “Bedroom.”
“Is that an order, Captain?” you tease.
Levi’s mouth twitches into something almost resembling a smirk. “It’s an invitation. Don’t confuse the two.”
His fingers lace through yours and he leads you out of the office, down the short hallway to his private quarters. The door shuts behind you, and then he’s on you again, mouth hungry, hands already working at your straps. You push his cravat aside and unbutton his shirt with equal urgency. Every brush of his hands against your skin sends sparks racing through you.
You reach up to your neck and unclasp your necklace, setting it carefully on the small table beside his bed. You’ve never taken it off, so the absence doesn’t register at first. When it does, you feel more naked, despite already fully being so. Then you turn back to him. Levi watches the movement, then his hands return to your bare waist, guiding you backward until the edge of the mattress meets the backs of your knees. He gives you the gentlest push and you sink onto the bed, the sheets cold against your skin.
Levi follows you down, bracing on one forearm as he kisses you again. His free hand trails along your side, mapping the curve of your waist, the flare of your hip. He breaks the kiss to move lower, pressing his mouth to the hollow of your throat, then the slope of your collarbone, then lower still.
When his lips close over once nipple you arch, a soft sound escapes you. He sucks gently at first, then with more pressure, tongue circling the sensitive bud while his thumb teases the other. The dual attention makes your walls flutter around nothing. You thread your fingers through his hair, feeling the satisfaction that rolls through him at every gasp you give.
He continues downward, kissing a path over your stomach and your hipbone. He bites gently, leaving a whisper of a mark. His hands part your thighs and then suddenly, without warning, his mouth is on you, tongue stroking slowly. At the same time two fingers slide inside, curling so perfectly that your vision blurs for a moment.
Levi’s thoughts are focused on only one thing: he wants to feel you come apart, wants to hear every sound you make when there’s no audience left to perform for. He works you steadily, tongue flicking and sucking at your clit while his fingers stroke that perfect spot again and again.
Your own thoughts scatter now. The bet feels distant, ridiculous compared to the reality of Levi’s mouth and hands. Pleasure builds fast, coiling tighter with every pass of his tongue and every thrust of his fingers. Your hips move without conscious thought, chasing the sensation. Levi’s free hand presses your thighs wider, keeping you open for him. The quiet growl he lets out against you vibrates through your core. Your inner walls clench around him, urging him deeper.
“Levi, please,” you whimper, hands tangling in his hair as you grind against his face. “Need more.”
With a low chuckle, he adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he picks up the pace. His tongue dances over your clit, sending a wave of ecstasy through you. He doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. Your thighs close around his head. One hand flies from his head to the sheets, gripping tight.
In a moment of surprising tenderness, he reaches out for your hand with his free one, lacing your fingers together. His other hand is still preoccupied, fingers thrusting deep and curling against your g-spot. The tension inside you winds tighter and tighter. Your quiet moans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure that seems to drive Levi on.
Your orgasm comes so suddenly it catches you by surprise. Your body clenches around his fingers as wave after wave rolls through you. You cry out, back arching off the bed, your hand in his hair tightening its grip on his locks. Levi doesn’t stop until the tremors ease, drawing every last ripple of pleasure from you with careful strokes of his tongue. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are dark and intent, lips glistening. He kisses the inside of your thigh once, then moves back up your body to press his mouth to yours.
Your heavy breaths turn into small, hitched inhales as your pulse races. Levi’s weight settles partly over you, one hand stroking your side. You feel his cock twitch against you. You reach for him, pulling him closer, and he comes willingly, his chest pressed against yours as he grinds his hips down to meet yours, his length sliding over your wetness.
He then pulls back, eyes searching your face. There’s a softness in the way he lifts his hand and brushes his thumb across your cheek. He feels the rapid flutter of your heart through your chest. He’s been denying it for days now, but he’s wanted this. He wanted it since the first time you tried to make him react, but he needs to know you do too.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks.
You nod without hesitation. “Yes.”
Levi watches you for another second, looking for any signs of doubt, then he settles between your thighs. His hand guides himself to your entrance, and the first press of him stretches you in a way you never could have prepared for. He’s thicker than you expected, the tip parting you slowly. The sensation is overwhelming at first. You feel every inch as he sinks deeper. Your body yields around his solid girth. A quiet sound escapes you, half gasp and half moan. Levi stills once he’s fully inside you, giving you time to adjust.
He takes both of your hands in his and lifts them above your head, pinning them gently to the mattress. His fingers are laced through yours. He begins to move, slow rolling thrusts that you feel the full stretch each time he pushes in. The push of him inside you is deep, hitting places that make your toes curl.
Sensations layer one over another: the slickness, the pressure against your inner walls, your hips tilting to take him deeper. He lowers his mouth to your neck, lips brushing first. Then his teeth graze in a light bite, the sensation racing down your spine. You feel the sting melt into heat, and he soothes it with a slow kiss before biting again, a little harder this time.
Against your skin he murmurs, “You feel so good.”
The words spread through you in a rush of heat. He shifts your hands and grips both of them with just one of his, while he slides his now free hand down to grip your hip, steadying you as he thrusts again, deeper. You kiss him when he lifts his head, mouths meeting in an open exchange that still tastes faintly of you. He pulls back enough to speak, still moving inside you with long strokes.
“Is this what you wanted?”
You nod, a moan threading through the motion, your body arching to meet each thrust. The stretch is constant, a fullness that blanks your mind. Levi feels the way you clench around him and the small tremors in your thighs. He slows deliberately, hips rolling in a lazy pace that keeps him buried deep but denies the hard friction you’re starting to crave.
“Yeah?” he says, tilting his head. “Wouldn’t like it if I stopped now, would you?”
You shake your head, no words yet, just the desperate cling of your legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Your hands flex under his hold. You feel the strength in his grip. You couldn’t break free if you tried, and somehow, the contrast of tenderness and control makes heat flood through you again.
Levi’s mouth curves slightly. “That’s right. You want me to keep going, pretty girl?” He leans down, his lips barely ghosting over yours. “Come on, use your words.”
You nearly crack under the weight of his words. Your voice comes out breathy and urgent. “Please don’t stop. Keep going, Levi. I need it. Need it harder.”
He obliges without hesitation. His pace shifts, thrusts growing harder, the bed creaking softly beneath you as he drives in with more force. His thickness fills you completely with each stroke. The wet sound of it mixes with the quiet moans he lets out against your neck. He bites there again, teeth sinking just enough to mark without breaking skin. He kisses the spot, tongue soothing the sting.
A rush of emotion floods you through the physicality of it all, a mix of being wanted so thoroughly and the unexpected gentleness in how he holds you even while fucking you harder. The moment Levi releases your hand to brace himself properly, you drag your nails down his back, the urge to mark him back rising. The scratches start light but deepen with the next thrust. Levi’s voice comes low near your ear.
“Not too hard, love.”
You nod quickly, the word settling somewhere low in your stomach. You know why he said that. Marks like that would be impossible to hide in the showers. Questions would rise. Explanations you couldn’t give. You ease the pressure of your nails, letting your hands smooth over his skin instead. You feel the flex of his muscles beneath.
Levi doesn’t falter, his hips snapping down in a rhythm that pushes you higher again. He kisses you to muffle the louder moans that slip out of you, his mouth claiming yours while he drives deep. The tip of him brushes your cervix with every stroke. You feel the tension coiling in him, the way his breathing grows rougher, the subtle tremor in his arms holding his body up. His own pleasure builds, the quiet sounds he makes rising in volume, murmured words of how perfect you feel around him, how much he’s thought about this.
The pace stays relentless, but he still holds enough control that he doesn’t get lost in the haze. You cling to him with your legs. He kisses your neck again. You feel the precipice approaching for him, the way his thrusts grow slightly erratic, his quiet moans turning into messier, louder groans.
When he pulls out at the last moment, it’s with a low moan, and he shoots ropes across your stomach. The sight of it, the claim on your skin, the way his body shudders through his release, almost makes you cum again on the spot.
Levi stays close afterward, breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. He kisses you gently, fingers stroking over your wrists where he held them before to check without words that you’re alright. You nod silently. He suddenly stands on slightly shaking legs and crosses the room to retrieve a cloth. He sits beside you and wipes you carefully before lying beside you, one arm draped over your waist.
You turn into him, closing your eyes, not worrying about what the morning will bring. Right now, it’s just you and him, and the very distant thought that you’ll have to thank the others for throwing you into this bet.
.
The morning after is painfully awkward.
Surely, you can survive sitting down with your friends after spending the night with Levi. Surely. Probably. Maybe, if no one looks at you too closely.
You slide onto the bench beside Sasha, trying not to remember Levi’s hands on your waist, Levi speaking against your lips, Levi’s breath finally turning uneven in the dark when your fingers dragged through his hair and pulled a rough sound from his throat that absolutely would have counted as a reaction if the rest of these idiots had been there to witness it.
Then again, fucking your captain probably counts as a reaction too.
Sasha looks up from her breakfast. “You’re late.”
“I slept in,” you answer smoothly.
Ymir, sitting across from you with Christa close at her side, narrows her eyes immediately. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
“That sounded defensive.”
“That’s because I’m being attacked before I’ve had tea.”
Jean and Connie snicker. Then Connie sighs and shakes his head, saying with genuine disappointment, “I still can’t believe you couldn’t get the Captain to react. I was so sure you could do it.”
Oh, you did it alright.
“I did my best,” you say.
Ymir props her chin on her hand and smiles lazily. “Please. No one could ever make Levi blush or stammer. The whole thing was a waste of fucking time.” She pauses, then adds, “A funny waste of time, though. That was pathetic.”
Jean points his spoon at you without looking at you. “She did get him to talk to her more than usual.”
Armin suddenly says your name. All eyes turn to him. He tilts his head, eyes locked onto your throat. “Where’s your necklace?”
Your hand goes to your throat and meets bare skin. Your heart drops through the floor, through the earth itself where it can lie down and die in peace. You know where it is. You know exactly where it is. But you cannot tell the truth, because you would absolutely never hear the end of it.
“I must’ve forgotten to put it on,” you say, and immediately slap yourself in your mind because you have never forgotten to put on your necklace, because you never take it off except for showers.
Then you feel it on the hairs on the back of your neck. Someone’s approaching. But before you can turn around, a hand enters your vision and sets something down on the table in front of you. Oh gods, you know those hands. They were all over you last night.
You look up and your entire soul leaves your body.
“You left this,” Levi says.
You look down at what he set down. It’s your necklace. Right there, on the table, beside your hand. In front of everyone. No one speaks. No one breathes. You stare at the necklace and it feels like its staring back in disappointment at you.
Levi turns and walks away without another word. When you look up, every single head is turned to you. You look back down at the necklace, your face absolutely boiling with embarrassment and the memory of last night. Fuck, fuck, fuck—
“Why did the Captain have your necklace?” Connie asks.
You pick it up with slightly shaking fingers. “That is… a great question.”
Jean leans forward. “And?”
“And I’m admiring how great it is.”
Eren’s eyes are now huge, both horrified and fascinated. “Wait, did you manage to get him to react?”
You look down at the necklace of your palm, remembering Levi’s hands lacing through yours, his mouth lavishing attention on your neck, his body settled between your thighs, his praises and moans and whispers—all things you will be taking to your grave and beyond it.
Then you smile.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
thank you for reading, and for allowing me to reach this milestone <3
The hidden glances across headquarters. The way Levi would stand just a little too close when no one was looking, only to step away the second someone entered the room. The brief touches of his hand against your lower back in empty hallways. The quiet way he’d mutter, “Eat,” when he noticed you skipping meals, shoving half of his bread roll onto your plate before anyone could question it.
It had been like this ever since the two of you got married.
Not because Levi was ashamed of you. You knew that much.
He simply hated people knowing things about him.
Levi Ackerman could command an entire room with a single look, could stare down titans without blinking, could make seasoned soldiers crumble under the weight of his words. Yet the second anyone got too close to knowing him, truly knowing him, he shut down.
You were the only exception.
The only one who knew how he took his tea. The only one who knew he hated thunderstorms because they made the old wooden buildings creak too loudly at night. The only one who knew he liked sleeping with one hand tucked beneath your shirt, fingers spread against your stomach like he needed to reassure himself you were still there.
The only one who knew that beneath the coldness and sharp tongue was someone devastatingly soft in the quietest ways.
Still, it did make things difficult sometimes.
Especially with his squad.
“Captain Levi seriously has never liked anyone,” Eren said one afternoon, sprawled lazily across a chair in the mess hall. “I think he might actually hate romance.”
Jean snorted. “He definitely does.”
Mikasa sat nearby, quietly eating. “Not necessarily.”
Connie looked up. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “He just seems like the type to keep things private.”
You nearly choked on your drink.
Levi, seated across the room, didn’t react at all. He continued drinking his tea like he hadn’t heard a word.
You stared at him.
He didn’t look up.
Coward.
Later that evening, after everyone had gone to bed, you found him in his office, papers spread across his desk. He looked tired, dark circles beneath his eyes, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
You closed the door behind you.
Levi looked up briefly. “You’re still awake.”
“You let them say you hate romance.”
“I do hate romance.”
You raised an eyebrow.
He leaned back in his chair. “The public kind. Flowers, stupid letters, dramatic confessions. It’s embarrassing.”
“And marriage?”
His eyes flicked to the ring on your finger.
Then to his own.
A simple silver band he kept hidden beneath gloves most days.
“That’s different,” he muttered.
You smiled softly and stepped closer. “You know, one day they’re going to figure it out.”
“They won’t.”
“You’re very confident for someone who kissed me in a storage closet last week.”
Levi’s expression remained blank, but there was the faintest shift in his eyes. “You started that.”
“Oh, so now you’re blaming me?”
“You’re distracting.”
You laughed quietly.
His hand reached for yours under the desk, fingers brushing over your ring. He looked down at it for a moment, thumb rubbing against the metal.
“Let them think whatever they want,” he said.
You softened immediately.
Because that was Levi. He wasn’t good with saying things directly, but sometimes he would hand you his heart in tiny pieces and trust you enough not to drop it.
Let them think whatever they want.
As long as he still had you.
The problem was that Levi had grown too comfortable.
Far too comfortable.
At first, he had been careful.
No touching in public. No lingering looks. No signs.
Then slowly, over the months, he had begun slipping.
It started small.
He’d pull out your chair without thinking.
He’d bring you tea before meetings without asking if you wanted any.
If you were injured during training, he was suddenly there before anyone else, jaw tight, hands checking over you with thinly veiled irritation.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s barely a scratch.”
“It’s stupid.”
Then came the worse offenses.
Like the fact that he knew exactly how you took your tea.
Or that he would show up outside your office late at night with blankets when you worked too long.
Or that he had a habit of fixing your cravat without a word whenever it sat crooked around your neck.
No one said anything.
Not for a while.
But you could feel it sometimes.
The lingering looks.
The confusion.
The way Hange would grin whenever Levi’s attention drifted toward you for too long.
You should have known it would be Hange.
“Levi,” Hange said one afternoon, walking beside him as you all returned from a mission. “Hypothetically.”
Levi looked irritated already. “No.”
“You don’t even know the question.”
“Don’t care.”
“Hypothetically,” Hange continued anyway, “if someone were secretly in love, what signs would they show?”
Levi’s expression darkened. “What kind of idiotic question is that?”
“Maybe they bring someone tea. Maybe they stare at them too long. Maybe they act weirdly protective.”
“That’s not love. That’s being annoying.”
Hange grinned wider.
You looked away, trying not to smile.
Levi noticed.
His eyes narrowed at you.
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
Then, finally, everything fell apart.
It happened on a rainy afternoon.
The kind where everyone was stuck indoors because the training grounds had turned to mud.
You had been in Levi’s office helping sort through paperwork. Or rather, pretending to help while Levi did most of the work because he claimed you organized things “wrong.”
You stood near the bookshelf, stretching your arms over your head.
Levi sat at his desk.
“You missed a page,” you said.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
You walked over, picked up the stack, and held up the missing page triumphantly.
Levi stared at you.
Then he sighed through his nose. “Brat.”
“Old man.”
His eyes narrowed.
Then, without warning, he reached out and tugged you closer by the wrist.
You stumbled slightly, laughing under your breath as he pulled you between his knees.
“Levi—”
“You’re annoying.”
“You married me.”
He went still for half a second.
Just long enough for both of you to realize what had slipped out.
Then—
The office door swung open.
Eren froze in the doorway.
Mikasa stopped behind him.
Armin nearly walked into both of them.
For a long moment, nobody moved.
You were still standing between Levi’s legs.
His hand was still around your wrist.
Your wedding ring gleamed brightly against your finger.
Eren blinked once.
Then twice.
“…Married?”
Silence.
Levi slowly let go of your wrist.
“You knock before entering,” he said flatly.
“Captain,” Armin said weakly, “did she just say—”
“Yes,” Levi replied.
No denial.
No excuse.
Just yes.
Mikasa stared at the two of you.
Eren looked like someone had hit him over the head with a brick.
“You’re married?” he repeated.
Levi looked deeply irritated now, mostly because he had been caught.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“A while.”
“How long is ‘a while’?” Jean asked from somewhere in the hallway because of course everyone had gathered outside the door.
Levi’s eye twitched.
“Over a year.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then Connie’s voice rang out.
“OVER A YEAR?”
Suddenly everyone was shoving into the office at once.
Jean looked horrified.
Sasha looked delighted.
Hange looked smug beyond belief.
“I KNEW IT!” Hange shouted, pointing dramatically. “I knew there was something weird happening!”
“You knew?” Eren asked.
“No, but I suspected. Levi only glares at everyone else. He stares at her.”
Levi looked like he wanted to throw himself out the window.
“You’re telling me,” Jean said, looking between the two of you, “that humanity’s strongest soldier has a spouse?”
“Unfortunately,” Levi muttered.
You laughed softly.
Eren still looked completely lost. “But you never said anything.”
Levi crossed his arms. “Wasn’t your business.”
“You wear rings?” Mikasa asked quietly.
Without thinking, Levi tugged off one of his gloves.
The silver band sat there, simple and worn. The room went silent again. Because somehow that made it more real.
Levi Ackerman was married.
Actually married.
Hange walked over and grabbed your hand before you could stop them. “Wait, wait, wait—how did this happen? Who confessed first? Was there a proposal? Did Levi propose?”
Levi looked offended. “Of course I proposed.”
That only made everyone more shocked.
“You proposed?” Connie repeated.
“Yes.”
“What did you say?” Sasha asked excitedly.
Levi went quiet.
You smiled a little.
“He told me,” you began, “‘I’m not asking twice, so decide if you want to spend the rest of your life with me already.’”
The room erupted.
Eren looked scandalized.
Jean burst out laughing.
Hange nearly collapsed.
“That is the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard,” Connie wheezed.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Levi snapped.
You could not stop smiling.
Because honestly?
It had been perfect.
That was exactly how Levi loved.
Clumsy in words. Awkward in timing. But painfully sincere.
“I still can’t believe this,” Eren muttered.
Levi looked exhausted already. “Get out.”
“No.”
“Now.”
“No.”
“You’re all irritating.”
“Captain,” Armin said carefully, “why didn’t you tell us?”
Levi went quiet for a moment. The room softened a little. Even Hange stopped grinning.
Levi wasn’t good at explaining himself. Everyone knew that.
He glanced at you briefly.
Then back at them.
“Because this is mine,” he said simply. “She’s mine. And I didn’t want people sticking their noses into it.”
The room fell silent again.
Your heart ached.
Because there it was.
Levi’s love always came out in the strangest ways.
She’s mine.
Not possessive.
Not controlling.
Just honest.
You belonged to him the same way he belonged to you. A quiet thing. A private thing. Something precious.
Hange smiled a little again.
Eren looked awkward suddenly.
Jean rubbed the back of his neck.
Mikasa glanced at you, then Levi, and for the first time, there was something almost soft in her expression.
“That makes sense,” she said quietly.
Levi looked uncomfortable with the understanding.
“Still,” Hange said, grinning again, “you can’t stop us from asking questions now.”
“Yes, I can.”
“You sleep in the same room?”
Levi stared blankly.
“Obviously,” he said.
“Do you cuddle?”
The room went silent.
Levi looked murderous.
“Get out.”
“You do!” Hange yelled.
“OUT.”
Everyone scattered before Levi could physically throw them out himself.
The room emptied quickly, filled with laughter and shouting as everyone ran down the hall.
You could hear Connie yelling, “I can’t believe Captain Levi is married!” from halfway across headquarters.
Then it was quiet again.
Just you and Levi.
He sat at his desk looking deeply exhausted.
You leaned against it beside him.
“Well,” you said lightly, “that went well.”
Levi looked at you.
Then, after a moment, he reached up and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until you stood between his knees again.
“This is your fault.”
You smiled. “You married me.”
His gaze softened in that way only you ever got to see.
“You talk too much.”
“And you love me anyway.”
Levi was quiet for a moment.
Then his forehead rested lightly against your stomach.
It was such a small thing.
So unlike the man everyone else saw.
No sharp edges. No coldness.
Just Levi.
Just your husband.
“I do,” he muttered quietly.
You felt your chest ache again.
Because no matter how private he was, no matter how much he hid himself away from everyone else, you had always been the exception.
You ever stop and think about how every single one of Jason’s most important relationships was doomed?
His and Reyna’s friendship messed up by Aphrodite’s prophecy and then shattered when Juno took his memories. They never got to properly repair it.
His friendship with Leo was prophecized to end in one of their deaths before they even met.
As per Aphrodite cabin tradition, his relationship with Piper was destined to end in a broken heart. And after they break up, like that’s not painful enough, that’s the second friendship in a row fated to end in one of their deaths.
And Thalia, fundamentally shaped by the experience of losing her little brother as a child, is doomed to lose him a second time.
So Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter's efficient camp leaders formula is basically:
Exhibit A: Child of a war god/goddess who has natural command, is a smart strategist, and a weapons expert who looks intimidating enough to scare the shit out of everyone. (Annabeth, Reyna, Frank)
AND
Exhibit B: Child of one of the big three gods who is super chill, friendly, and approachable, but lowkey has the most dangerous abilities and turns into your worst nightmare when provoked. (Percy, Jason, Hazel)
Also, when Hera/Juno hatched her "Switch the Leaders" plan on both camps, she specifically switched the big 3 kid leaders rather than the war god kids. Because she knew -she fucking knew- that the big 3 kid can and will wreak havoc and would've caused tectonic plates to shift if the war god kid went missing.
Just imagine the chaos Percy and Jason would've caused if Annabeth and Reyna went missing respectively.
pairing aged-up neteyam x omatikaya!huntress reader
notes reader is the sister of neteyam’s best friend, hot-tempered reader (only when it comes to neteyam), cocky neteyam, mutual pining, smut (p in v), oral (f receiving), mentions of blood and violence (not serious)
synopsis being the sister of one of the clan’s most promising warriors is one thing, but having neteyam constantly be there to act as brother #2 is another.
word count 19.4k
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
You blinked against the fractured, liquid beams of gold filtering through the woven ceiling of your sleeping alcove. Your arms were still slightly stiff from yesterday’s grueling training, a drill your father had watched with narrowed, critical eyes. You had performed flawlessly, of course. You had to.
You sat up and rubbed your eyes. Usually, your mornings would be filled by the noise of your mother tending to the hearth, your father lecturing your brother on the strategic importance of patrolling the northern border at dawn, or your brother aggressively sharpening his daggers.
But you knew your parents would be out for the first communion of the two babies born this moon and your brother will be on morning patrol, so you weren’t really expecting to see anyone home so when you padded out into the main living area and saw someone casually lounging on one of the woven ball seats.
You took a sharp breath through your nose.
“You’re finally awake,” he said, his voice deeper than it had been a year ago, carrying that smooth cadence that always irritated you.
He was turning a sleek hunting knife in his hands. At seventeen, he already carried himself with the heavy, unshakeable confidence of a man who knew he was born to lead. You froze for a short moment before your mask snapped back into place, your expression hardening into the cold, untouchable gaze the rest of the clan knew all too well.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice clipped.
He flipped the knife once more, catching it expertly by the hilt before sliding it into his chest sheath, his golden eyes never leaving yours while a slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“I came to tell your brother about the change in patrol rotation. I stayed behind when he left because you were still sleeping. It wouldn't be good to leave you here unguarded.”
You crossed your arms, looking down at him from the slight elevation of the alcove steps. “I don’t need a guard, or protection. Besides, no one in this clan would dare cross into this hut.”
“I am not talking about who, I am talking about what,” he countered easily, pushing himself up to his feet and the sudden height difference made you want to take a step back, though you forced your feet to stay glued to the floor. “This part of Hometree is accessible to stray viperwolves. You know that.”
He was right, much to your annoyance. Because your father was Jake’s second-in-command, your mother a fierce huntress, and your brother a rising star among the warriors, your family’s pod was situated on the lower, more vulnerable branches. It was a position of pride, a statement to the clan that your family stood as a shield between danger and the gentler artisans of the upper branches.
Still, you weren't about to give him the satisfaction. You rolled your eyes, a deliberate show of disrespect that you would never dare attempt to do to him in front of your father.
“I am awake now,” you said coldly, walking past him toward the water basin. “You can leave.”
Neteyam let out a low huff of laughter, his cocky nature bleeding into his posture as he tilted his head. “What, no ‘thank you’?” he asked, a smirk playing on his face.
“I did not ask for you to guard me,” you replied smoothly, bringing your waterskin up and taking a slow, deliberate drink to avoid looking at him.
He chuckled, shaking his head. He turned his back to leave, his long tail flicking lazily behind him, but just as he reached the threshold of the pod, he paused and turned around, pointing a long finger toward the hearth.
“I brought you food from earlier since you weren’t at the communal breakfast,” he murmured, his smirk softening into something a little more private. “I didn't know you were such a sleepyhead.”
Before you could snap back a retort, he slipped through the woven entrance and was gone.
The moment his presence left the room, the invisible weight on your chest lifted. You let out a long, ragged breath as you rolled your eyes. Moving to the edge of the pod, you looked out into the bustling morning of the village, your eyes automatically tracking his retreat.
He walked down the massive branch with an easy grace. It was no secret that his father had once been a dreamwalker, an avatar, and Neteyam seemed to have inherited the broader, more muscular physique of his father, setting him apart from the other boys his age, including your older brother's lanky build, making him look like he belonged with the more seasoned warriors.
You watched him until he vanished into the crowd, a familiar, frustrating knot tightening in your stomach. You noticed everything about him and that never sat right with you. He’s your older brother’s best friend and your brother is his shadow, meaning he was a permanent fixture in your periphery.
It didn’t suffice that girls in the clan would want to befriend you to get closer to your brother, Neteyam had to add to the equation, too. So now, you’re burdened by the constant presence of girls pretending to be chummy with you only to ask you about your brother or Neteyam days later.
It made your life less about you and more about them, making you struggle to find age peers who are actually interested in being friends with you.
Except for Lekya and Reti.
They weren't entirely different from the other girls, they still giggled whenever the young hunters walked past and gush over Neteyam and your older brother. But they always seem to be less intimidated by the coldness, and sometimes, meanness, that you use to fend everyone off. You had long given up on trying to shake their presence off. No matter how coldly you ignored them, they always found a way to tail you around, stubbornly dragging you into their plans until your sharp edges softened just a fraction.
Like some days when they would drag you down to the river for a ‘picnic,’ a concept they had apparently learned from the older girls like Kiri and her friends. Now, they had even brought along a boy named Kar’ek, gentle and sharp-witted. You quickly realized he wasn't a threat to your peace in the slightest; he had absolutely no interest in girls, preferring to watch the young hunters from afar with an appreciative eye.
Surprisingly, you found yourself actually enjoying it. Safely hidden under the shade of the trees where the conversation quickly turned from the weather to the young warriors of the clan. They were talking about them like they were heroes, but you had other ideas, like nitpicking every single imperfection you had witnessed on the training grounds.
In that, you became uncharacteristically talkative. It was obvious to the three that you found none of them attractive. They were all trying too hard.
“Like Nurte yesterday,” you said, leaning back on one hand with a scoff. “He took three entire minutes just to aim at a target that wasn't even moving, all because he knew the girlswere watching. It’s pathetic.“
“Oh, well,” Lekya giggled. “He’s just trying to look brave. What about Tayrel? He practically broke a baby tree trunk with his spear during the strength drills.”
“He missed the dummy entirely and hit the tree because his footing was completely off,” you countered smoothly, rolling your eyes. “He has the balance of a newborn ikran. If a viperwolf actually attacked him, he’d trip over his own tail.”
Kar’ek let out a dramatic, breathless laugh, fanning himself with a broad leaf. “Oh, she is vicious today! But she’s not wrong. Tayrel spends more time oiling his braids than practicing his strikes.”
Not even Neteyam was spared to your nitpicking. You were incredibly detailed when you tore into him, mimicking his cocky posture by puffing out your chest and tilting your head back, mocking his signature smirk.
“And don't even get me started on the golden boy,” you scoffed, lowering your voice to copy his deep, confident cadence. “Look at me, I am Neteyam, I can shoot a bow with my eyes closed because I am so perfect. Please. He drops his left elbow every time he releases an arrow on a hard turn. He’s sloppy when he thinks no one is looking, and that arrogant little half-smile he does when he lands a hit? It looks like he swallowed a sour piece of fruit.”
You laughed, expecting the others to join in on the mockery, but you suddenly realized the riverbank had gone entirely quiet.
You blinked, popping a sweet berry into your mouth. “What? You all have gone silent. Nothing to say about that arrogant boy?”
Kar’ek looked at you like you had lost your mind. “What are you talking about, girl? He is valiant and a gentleman!”
“He is also not arrogant, Y/N,” Reti chimed in, pouting. “He is kind and humble. Just last moon, he helped me carry my heavy fiber bundles all the way to the weaving looms. And your brother helped Lekya!”
You grimaced, the berry suddenly tasting sour. “Show-offs. Both of them. You shouldn't have accepted their help. They only do it so everyone can look at them.”
Before Reti could snap a retort back, the crunch of leaves announced the arrival of a new group. You turned around and saw five young hunters strolling out from the thick foliage, laughing and shoving each other. At the front were your brother, Sak’nur and Neteyam. They had clearly just finished a grueling training session; their skin was glistening with sweat, and they carried themselves with the eager energy of boys ready to plunge into the cool river.
But the moment they stepped into the clearing, Neteyam’s golden eyes locked onto yours.
He raised a single, amused brow. You hadn't even realized you were doing it, but you were glaring at him with enough heat to burn through Hometree. You swiftly slid your gaze to your brother.
“What are you doing here, Sak’nur?” you demanded, your voice cutting through the peaceful atmosphere like a knife.
Your brother blinked, holding his hands out in confusion. “Uh... swimming?”
The other hunters laughed, instantly chiming in. They began boisterously greeting Lekya, Reti, and Kar’ek, completely unbothered by your hostile aura. Kar'ek offered them a witty greeting back, while your “friends” instantly smoothed their hair, their previous defense of Neteyam turning into shy, bright smiles as they began chatting with the boys.
Your sharp eyes found Neteyam again when he chuckled and saw that his eyes were on you, his tail flicking with pure amusement. He tilted his head, looking down at your stormy expression.
“And here I thought the river was supposed to be relaxing,” he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, teasing register meant just for you. “What’s with the scowl, sleepyhead?”
Truthfully, his heart swelled at the sight of you; he loved the fire in your eyes, and his teasing was born from a desperate desire to see you react to him, and only him. But to your ears, it was just another arrogant provocation from him, just like the many other times in the past.
The other hunters caught his words and burst into a loud, obnoxious laughter, with your brother shaking his head at your expense.
The hot flush of embarrassment crawled up your neck, painting your cheeks a deep, furious violet. Without thinking, your hand snapped down, grabbed a heavy, overripe fruit from the leaf platter, and hurled it directly at his chest.
The fruit exploded against his sternum, leaving a sticky, bright purple smear across his smooth skin.
The laughter died instantly. Sak’nur’s jaw dropped, and the rest of the boys froze in sheer shock. No one, absolutely no one, threw things at the future Olo'eyktan.
Neteyam blinked, looking down at the sludge dripping down his chest, and then looked back up at you. You lifted your chin to wait for his anger, already burning in anger, but as his eyes met yours, you saw no fury. Instead, his golden eyes danced with a dangerous, thrilled light. A slow, breathless smile parted his lips. He wasn't insulted at all. He looked utterly captivated.
You let out a sharp, furious hiss, unable to bear the heat of his gaze for another second. Scrambling to your feet, you turned on your heel and sprinted away into the safety of the forest, leaving the river, your friends, and his maddening smile far behind.
Later that night, you sat at your family’s table, just a few paces away from the Olo’eyktan’s family, as the clan hierarchy dictated. The orange glow of the central fire bathed the communal clearing with warmth and you know you would have loved it if you the Sully family’s table weren’t exactly on your line of the sight. Looking at the fire meant accidentally meeting Neteyam’s eyes, which is exactly what happened four times in a row already in the past few minutes.
Beside you, sat Sak’nur, eating heartily, though he occasionally cast a wary glance your way. The memory of the riverbank still plagued you. You didn’t feel sorry at all, but you do feel like you could have handled it better. There were too many witnesses to your volatile nature, what’s worse, it included your brother.
Just as your lips were pulling in a grimace, a movement drew your eye. A fighre stood up in the Sully table and began walking toward your family's area. Neteyam. You let out a deep breath off your nose, pretending to be busy with your food but when Sak’nur elbowed you, you were forced to look up.
As he approached, you noticed he was carrying a leaf square bowl. Inside was a freshly baked sweet-root pie, a delicacy usually reserved for special celebrations.
Your stomach dropped. No. Do not do this here.
“Greetings, sir,” Neteyam said smoothly, dipping his head in a respectful nod to your father before his eyes shifted down to you. The cocky, teasing hunter from the riverbank was gone, replaced by the perfect, dutiful Olo’eyktan to be.
Your father let out a booming laugh. “Neteyam! What is this for?” he asked, looking at the pie.
“I came to bring a peace offering,“ Neteyam answered seriously, his eyes on you.
Your father’s eyes darted between Neteyam and you, his forehead creasing. “A peace offering? For what?”
You took a sharp breath through your nose, your fingers clenching into the fabric of your loincloth. You absolutely hated having your father peek into your business, and you hated, absolutely detested, that Neteyam was staging this elaborate stunt right in front of your parents. You knew that he wasn't actually sorry, that this was a calculated humiliation, a way to trap you into accepting his apology because you wouldn't dare cause a scene in front of your father.
“It is between Y/N and I, sir, if you’ll excuse my refusal to divulge the matter,” Neteyam told him, his voice dripping with humility that you knew was entirely fabricated. He extended the bowl toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with deeply apologetic eyes. He was such a good actor.
Your father’s lips pushed forward, nodding at Neteyam as he shared a quiet laughter with your mother. “Alright, then. I guess this is one of your petty arguments again,“ he said, looking at you. “Daughter. You must remember: Not only is Neteyam much older than you for he is your older brother’s age, but you are also no longer a child.”
Your face burned with further humiliation. You cannot believe this. He has brought this upon you! Huffing a breath of pure fury through your nose, you forced your face into a tight, strained mask of a polite compliance.
You reached out and snatched the bowl from his hands. “Thank you, Neteyam. Your apology is accepted,” you said through gritted teeth.
“I am glad,” Neteyam murmured, a faint, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips telling you exactly how much he was enjoying your frustration. He bowed to your parents once more and walked away.
Stupid boy. Stupid, arrogant, obnoxious boy.
“What happened at the river?” Your father asked the moment Neteyam was out of earshot.
“Nothing, Father,” you lied smoothly, keeping your voice level. “Just a small... disagreement. It is resolved.”
But you made sure to make your true statement when the dinner ended. As your family stood up to leave, you deliberately left the leaf basket sitting squarely in the middle of the empty table, completely untouched.
From across the pavilion, Neteyam watched your retreating back, his eyes falling on the abandoned pie. A heavy sigh escaped him. He should have known a simple pastry wouldn't melt your ice.
Beside him, Lo’ak snickered. “What did you do this time?” he asked.
Neteyam’s jaw locked as his lips formed a thin line. “Said something about her scowl.”
Lo’ak stared at him for a moment before the boy doubled over in a fit of laughter. “Skxawng,“ he said. “Girls do not like hearing about their facial expressions! The same way they don’t like hearing comments about their hair, like your crime the last time!”
Neteyam’s forehead creased. “I told her the side part suited her best!”
“Which is implying that the previous look looked bad on her. It was also in the delivery, you know? I noticed you seem cocky when you talk to her.” Lo’ak’s eyes narrowed.
“What?” Neteyam asked, bewildered.
Lo’ak rolled his eyes. “Figure it out on your own, bro. You’re smart, it shouldn't be hard.”
His brother walked past, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Neteyam sighed heavily again. He felt as though the weight of Hometree was on his shoulder. He genuinely didn't know what to do with you anymore; you had always been aloof to him, so he tried talking to you and doing things for you, but you met that with coldness, and he lay awake at night wondering what he had done to deserve such an impenetrable wall.
The wall only grew taller during the training cycles. Neteyam tried to be helpful, but that only made your life miserable.
Whenever you practiced your marksmanship at the archery lines, he would happen to pass by and offer a quiet word of encouragement or adjust your stance. But you didn't want his help, especially because the other young huntresses were always watching.
“Look at her,” one of the older girls muttered from the drying racks, loud enough for the words to carry. “Must be nice being Sak’nur’s sister. Neteyam practically hands her the targets.”
“Exactly,” another chimed in, glaring at your back. “She only hits the bullseye because the future Olo'eyktan spends half his day fixing her form. If she didn't have them, she'd be nothing special.”
Hearing them credit all your hard work, your sweat, and your blistered fingers to the men in your life made your blood boil. You turned around to look at them, seeing their mocking expressions as they waited for what you’ll say or do.
“Does that make sense to your pea-sized brains?” you asked, smiling. “That I’m hitting all of those targets simply because someone is adjusting my form, or because I am someone’s sister?”
You nocked an arrow in your bow so fast you had already released it before they could even blink, hitting the feather hair ornament of the girl farthest from you. Your arrow pinned it squarely to the weapon rack behind her.
You tilted your head. “Did my brother fixed your ornament for you, Kur’na?”
A series of furious hisses echoed in the training grounds. “How dare you!” One of the older girls snarled.
They lunged at you, grabbing your braids and clawing at your skin. You fought back as ferociously as you could, grabbing braids, clawing, and punching. You heard heavy footsteps coming and suddenly, your feet are kicking in the air, even landing a hard kick on one of the girls.
You saw your brother and Lo’ak holding the girls back and bellowing for them to stop while you struggled against the strong arms wrapped around you. Your chest heaved as you breathe heavily, trying to calm yourself down.
“Y/N, what’s going on?” Sak’nur asked, his large steps eating up the space between you two.
Realizing who was holding you, you jerked back from the hold to stand on your feet properly. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?! You shot Kur’na!” One of the girls said.
“Where?” you asked.
“There!“ she pointed at the fiber pinned on the rack with an arrow.
“See, I couldn’t have done that. I don’t possess such a marksmanship without my brother or Neteyam fixing my targets for me...” you lied, pushing your lips forward. “So the truth is... You all attacked me senselessly.”
“I’ll have your father hear of this, Sak’nur,” Lo’ak told your brother, moving to walk away just as the girls gasped, fearing that your father, the Olo’eyktan’s second-in-command, would punish them for this.
“No need, Lo’ak,” you said, looking at the girls. “This was just a small training grounds disagreement. Nothing that we can work out among ourselves. Right?“
The girls exchanged tense glances, their expressions twisting into a mix of fear and fury, before they nodded, muttering their silent agreement.
You smiled, “Why don’t you take your break? You’ve been here since the first light.”
They looked absolutely furious, their ears flattened against their heads but they walked away anyway, the sheer humiliation radiating off them in waves. You watched them retreat, your expression completely blank until they were out of earshot. The adrenaline was finally leaving your system, leaving your skin stinging where they had clawed at you.
“What really happend?”
You turned to see Neteyam stepping up beside Sak’nur and Lo'ak. He was the one who had been holding you back, his hands still hovering near his sides as if he wanted to reach out again to check your injuries. His golden eyes swept over the scratches on your arms and neck, his brow furrowed in deep frustration.
“It’s seven against one, bro,” Lo'ak answered for you, crossing his arms. “Did you actually shoot Kur’na, though? If so, that’s insane. Right through the hair piece.”
“It doesn't matter,” Sak’nur growled, looking down at you with a heavy, protective frown. “You shouldn't have provoked them, Y/N. If we didn’t come—”
“I had it under control,” you interrupted, your voice dropping to a cold tone making all three of them pause.
You looked at Sak’nur before letting your gaze lock onto Neteyam. The anger that had been simmering under your skin since the drying racks finally boiled over.
“Listen to me,” you said, stepping back so you could look at them clearly. “Never meddle in my business again.”
Neteyam blinked, looking taken aback. “Y/N, we were just trying to—”
“I don't care what you were trying to do,” you snapped, gesturing sharply toward the targets behind you. “Every piece of gossip on these grounds is about how I am only here because of you and Sak’nur. Every bullseye I hit, every hour I spend sweating under the sun, they credit to my brother or the future Olo’eyktan. And your constant help just proves them right.”
You picked up your bow from the ground, dusting off the dirt with a fierce, rough motion.
“If I am going to fight my battles, I am going to fight them alone. If I get clawed, that's my problem. If I put an arrow through someone's hair, that's my problem too,” you said, your eyes flashing as you looked directly at Neteyam, then back to Sak’nur. “Stay out of it. I don't need you protecting me, and I certainly don't need you fixing my form anymore. Let me handle my own life.”
Without waiting for a reply, you slung your quiver over your shoulder and marched away, leaving the three young hunters standing in silence on the training grounds.
“That doesn’t include me, right?” Lo’ak asked, raising both his hands in the air.
Just like that, three years bled into the passage of time, and the world changed.
It was the night of the Great Feast, celebrating the debut of several young women into adulthood, the age where they were officially recognized as ready to choose a mate.
You were one of them.
The ceremonial paint was fresh on your skin, and the warrior class had taken notice. You were widely regarded as one of the most prized debutantes of the season; your coldness had transformed into an aura of regal elegance, and your legendary skill with a bow only made you more desirable.
Near the roasting pits, a group of older, seasoned hunters were drinking fermented fruit spirits, their voices rising over the music.
“The daughter of the second-in-command has grown into a fine huntress,” one of them remarked, a proud, older warrior. He took a heavy swig from his cup, a dark, possessive grin spreading across his face. “If it were me, she’d be popping out babies every season. A woman like that would breed nothing but strong warriors.”
The men laughed, taking that remark as nothing but a jest, but Neteyam had been standing a few paces away, speaking with your brother and their friends. Every muscle in his massive frame locked tight. The easy-going warrior vanished, replaced instantly by a primal, terrifying rage.
He turned slowly, his golden eyes blown wide, locked entirely on the man. “What did you just say?” Neteyam’s voice was dangerously low but it carried to the group of warriors neaby.
The hunter, older and arrogant, scoffed. He didn't care that Neteyam was the Olo’eyktan’s son. “I said what I said, boy. It is the way of things.”
“Watch your foul mouth before I clip your tongue,” Neteyam snapped back darkly, a lethal rumble vibrating in his chest.
The man sneered, stepping up to match the younger warrior’s height, to no avail. “Why don’t you come over here and say that to my face, boy?”
Neteyam’s fangs bared. “You think I won't?!”
Neteyam handed his bowl of fermented wine to a friend before his large steps ate the space between him and the man.
Every warrior in the Omatikaya was trained in hand-to-hand combat, but Neteyam had been forged by Jake Sully himself. He was broader, taller, and infinitely faster. He had allowed the hunter a single punch before he slammed him into the dirt, his fists flying in a brutal, blinding blur, coming down smash after smash against the warrior’s face
Warriors rushed forward, their deep voices taking the attention of everyone that the drums stopped its rhythm. It took five grown men to finally throw their arms around Neteyam and pull him off. His chest was heaving, his skin slick with sweat and the blood of the man beneath him. But the moment the man tried to stumble to his feet to walk away, Neteyam violently threw the warriors off him, snarling as he lunged forward a second time, entirely unhinged by a rage no one had ever seen in him before.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Mo’at shouted, rushing into the clearing as the chaos finally settled. “Why are you fighting at a sacred feast?!”
Neteyam violently shrugged the remaining hands off his shoulders, his breathing ragged as he pointed a trembling, bloody finger toward the hunter. “He disrespected Y/N!” he roared, his voice echoing across the entire clearing.
A few paces away, completely clueless to the context, you stopped mid-sip, holding your cup to your lips as you blinked. Me...?
Your father, who had watched the entire sequence from where he’s talking with Jake, narrowed his eyes to slits. He had always suspected Neteyam held a certain fondness for you, but this? This was a declaration to evey young man in the clan, as if the years of protecting your name and being protective of you weren’t enough.
Neteyam aggressively wiped a streak of blood from his split lip with the back of his hand, completely uncaring of the stunned stares of the entire clan. You set your cup down and marched straight up to him when you saw him turn around to leave, your face a storm of confusion and irritation.
“What did you do?” you demanded, but your voice didn’t carry the edge it usually would.
Neteyam blinked, surprised by your sudden proximity. Slowly, the fury in his face began to melt, his shoulders dropping slightly as he looked down at you. “He... he was speaking inappropriately about you.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Like how?”
“I refuse to repeat it,” he muttered, suddenly looking like a guilty child being chastised for using foul language.
“Like how, Neteyam?” you repeated, your voice soft, a tone he’d never heard from you before.
He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I do not want to repeat it, and I won’t. I am still seeing red, Y/N. If you make me repeat the words that came out of his mouth, I will go back over there, and I might actually tear him apart.”
You pursed your lips, studying the tight, rigid lines of his jaw. He looked genuinely sickened by whatever had been said. “It was that bad?”
He didn't answer, but his hard, pained expression spoke volumes. You looked at his split, bleeding lip, and then down at his knuckles, which were scraped raw and marred with crimson.
You let out a soft, defeated sigh. “I will go get herbs and a poultice for that,” you muttered, turning to leave.
“No need,” he said quickly, his voice rough. “I didn't do that so you would feel indebted to me.”
You rolled your eyes, turning back and grabbing him by the wrist. The sudden touch made him gasp softly. “I didn't even think that,” you said, pulling him out of the bright clearing and leading him onto a massive, quiet branch away from the pavilion lights. “Get some fresh air and reflect on what you just did.” You widened your eyes at him in a stern warning before walking away for the healing pavilion.
Neteyam stood on the darkened branch, watching your retreating form. He bit the inner flesh of his lower lip, desperately trying, and failing, to suppress the massive, foolish smile threatening to break across his face.
Minutes later, the soft patter of footsteps signaled your return. You carried two small clay jars filled with soothing green paste and woven cloths.
“Did you reflect?” you asked, stepping up to him.
He grimaced, his features twisting in a way that instantly reminded you of the young boy who hated sour fruit he would grimace every time he sees it. “I reflected,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And I think I would do it again if I could. With increasing pleasure every time.”
You shook your head, a faint huff of humor escaping you as you patted the bark of the branch. “You are stupid.”
“I suppose so...” he whispered. He lowered himself to sit on the branch, his eyes locking onto your face. Under the faint warm glow of the large fire inside, you looked so breathtakingly beautiful it made his chest ache.
You knelt before him, dipping your fingers into the cool healing paste. You gently brought your hand to his mouth, dabbing the medicine onto his split lip. “First time you have ever admitted it,” you murmured, raising a brow as your eyes snapped up to meet his. “Finally humble. I like that.”
“Yeah?” he asked, a dangerous, thrilling spark suddenly igniting in the depths of his eyes.
Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his gaze. You quickly recovered, “Only if you are truly humble. But you are not. You are arrogant and obnoxious.”
“Things can be changed,” he smirked, only to instantly hiss as the movement stretched the cut.
“See? Even your wound disagrees with you,” you teased, a genuine smirk playing on your own lips.
“I am saying—”
“Shh,” you interrupted, placing a gentle finger over his good lip.
Neteyam immediately clamped his mouth shut. He didn't say another word, completely content to just sit there, breathing in your scent, paralyzed by the gentle touch of your hands as you began wrapping his raw knuckles with the soft woven cloth. He held his hand perfectly still, refusing to move a single finger, treating your handiwork as if it were the most precious gift from Eywa herself.
A long, comfortable silence settled over the branch, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the music from the festival.
“You are a debutante now...” Neteyam said softly, breaking the quiet.
Your forehead creased in amusement, and a small, rare chuckle escaped your lips. “Uh, yeah? That was what the entire ceremony was about.”
Neteyam blinked in utter surprise, his heart skipping a beat. He stared at you, momentarily speechless. You laughed. You actually chuckled in his presence. It was a historic first.
Clearing his throat to find his voice, he leaned in just a fraction closer. “Have you... thought of suitors? Of mates?”
The lightheartedness instantly vanished from your face, replaced by a deep scowl. “Among the men of this clan?” you asked, shaking your head as you tied off the bandage. “No, thank you. Which is the better choice anyway? All of you get on my nerves.”
You stood up, picking up the empty clay jars and looking down at him one last time.
“I am bringing these back to the pavilion. Try counting to a hundred before you do something stupid again.”
You turned and walked back to the direction of the healing pavillion, your heart hammering against your ribs in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the physical fight you had just witnessed. Neteyam was left sitting alone on the branch, his bandaged hand pressed gently against his chest as he watched you go, his eyes filled with an undeniable, burning yearning.
You like no one in the clan. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face. That was perfect. He could definitely work with that.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The council’s midday gathering at the longhouse carried the scent of leaf tea and crushed sweet grass. Inside, the sunlight dripping through the woven room flickering shadows over the faces of the elders, Jake Sully, Neytiri, and your father, who sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze steady.
Neteyam stood at the center of the room. At twenty one, he had completely grown into the man everyone knew he would be. Taller than most, broad-shouldered, and carries the undeniable, commanding presence of a future leader. But today, his jaw was clamped shut in a tight, defensive line.
The topic on the floor was one he had been dodging for years: his future mating with the daughter of the Anurai clan’s Olo'eyktan. An alliance meant to solidify the bonds between their people.
“Delay this until when, Neteyam?” Elder Katu asked, his weathered voice echoing off the woven walls. “You are twenty-two. You are of age, and the clan looks to its future.”
“Elder Katu, if you should be reminded, my grandfather mated late, too,” Neteyam reasoned smoothly, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “He was forty-three then. He and my grandmother were way past the age of when they first came to adulthood.”
“Are you saying that you want to make Ateya of the Anurai wait that long?” Another elder countered.
“No, I am not saying she should wait at all,” Neteyam replied, his tone firm, yet unyielding. “I am saying I do not want to mate this young. I want to further my training and my diplomatic skills before I settle down. I will be the one mating, this would be for life, and I believe this part of my life should be my call.”
Jake Sully watched his son with a mixture of pride and suspicion, but it was your father whose sharp eyes never left Neteyam’s face. He noticed the slight, restless flick of Neteyam’s tail. He knew the young warrior was a master of discipline, so why was he fighting this alliance so fiercely?
The answer arrived with a soft rustle of the entrance flap.
You stepped into the longhouse with your chin held high, your expression a perfectly crafted mask of a huntress known for her sharp tongue. You had been tasked with delivering the recent patrol briefing to Sa’rin, an elder female warrior sitting near the back.
“I cannot be a good mate if I—”
Neteyam’s head snapping toward the movement at the threshold was entirely instinctual, but when he saw the distinct, bright feathers of your long braids, he did a complete double-take, his golden eyes locking onto your form, his breath hitching just enough that his posture faltered.
“...am not ready...” He trailed as his eyes tracked the fluid, elegant movement of your stride.
You didn’t even look at him, your eyes were trained forward until you reached Sa’rin, whispering to her animatedly. None of the older elders noticed the sudden lapse in Neteyam’s always perfect composure, not even Jake and Neytiri who were too focused on what he was saying.
But your father saw it.
His eyes narrowed into assessing slits, watching Neteyam’s chest rise and fall heavily as the young man desperately tried to refocus on the conversation. It was all the confirmation he needed. Neteyam sees you more than he ought to.
“It is a perfect match, Neteyam, if only you would open your eyes to see. It is known that Ateya is a competent huntress at her age, and a great weaver as well,” one of the elder said, shaking his head.
For the first time, your eyes snapped to the gathered council, your ears twitching at what you heard. Unfortunately, Neteyam has already tore his eyes off of you, or he would have seen the way your face crumpled in what your father perceived as a distaste.
When the elders finally dismissed Neteyam with a warning to think deeply on his duties, the young warrior let out a long, ragged breath as he walked out into the sunlight. He knew everything he had just said to the council was utter bullshit. He was ready for leadership, ready for a mate, ready for the future... but only if that future was you. He would delay every alliance, fight every elder, and play the patient hunter until he finally got you.
But he doesn’t know how to get you.
In the past three years, the air between you two had been significantly better than it used to be, but that was because he heeded what you said about not meddling in your business. He still tried to sneak in help every now and then, but not so much so as to piss you off.
He would hate to wake up the palulukan in you, so to speak.
Your father quietly watched him walk away before transferring his gaze to you once Neteyam was out of sight. Sa’rin was speaking, but you kept glancing at the entryway, your tail moving in agitated flicks behind you. He knew you. He knew that for all the ice and bitter fire you hurled at Neteyam, you were masking something deeper, far more profound. And Neteyam has never really tried to hide what he has for you. People are just really imperceptive.
You two needed a push.
The push came in the form of being assigned to the same hunting pack as each other. You didn’t think much of it, after all, Neteyam is one of the high-ranking hunters of the clan and you knew your rotation would have put you under him one way or another. As usual, you were out before sunrise, while the jungle was still choked with heavy, clinging mist.
This was simply a mid-sized hunting pack, with Neteyam leading the routine sweep of the southern borders. Your brother was currently leading the border patrol, which left you entirely under Neteyam’s command. You kept your distance during the initial trek, silent but cautious of your surroundings.
But Neteyam wouldn’t really be Neteyam if he didn’t know exactly where you were at any moment in time.
When the pack finally halted on a higher valley, Neteyam gathered the hunters. He moved with an easy, terrifyingly efficient confidence, mapping out the flanking routes with quick gestures of his large hands. As the other hunters dispersed to take their positions, you turned to slip toward the western ridge.
“Not so fast,” Neteyam’s voice cut through the air, smooth and low. He stepped into your path, his towering frame blocking the narrow trail. A slow, familiar smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head. “The western ridge is steep, and the morning dew has made the forest floor slick. We’ll take the east.”
You stopped and turned to him. “Whatt’s going on? Afraid of a little slip?” you asked. “I am taking the western flank. I have a cleaner angle, and I do not need a guide.”
Neteyam let out a low huff of laughter, stepping just an inch closer. The heat radiating off his chest was palpable in the cool morning air. He raised a single, amused eyebrow. “Prickly in the morning? I am not offering to guide you. I am telling you where the pack needs you. But if you really think I’m so afraid of a little slippery moss, you should hold my hand.”
Two years ago, your blood would have boiled. You would have hissed, thrown a cutting insult about his ego, and marched off in a fury.
But today? As your eyes locked onto his, tracking the dangerous, playful spark in his golden gaze and the infuriatingly curve of his smirk, your heart gave a sudden, treacherous thud against your ribs. The annoyance you usually relied on as a shield felt flimsy, dissolving into a strange, dizzying warmth.
You didn’t know where it began, but you no longer hate his arrogance. In fact, you realized with a sudden jolt of panic that you were entirely captivated by it.
“I think you can handle the moss perfectly fine, Neteyam," you countered, your voice clipped, though you couldn't quite stop the subtle twitch of your own lips. “Try not to get distracted out there. I would hate for my arrows to do all the work for your pack.”
“I'll try my best to keep up...” he murmured, his voice dropping into that deep, private register that always seemed reserved exclusively for you.
He gave you one last, lingering look before turning to leap into the upper ground with effortless grace. You stood frozen for a second, catching your breath, before fiercely shaking your head. Get it together, you scolded yourself, though the flush on your neck had nothing to do with the physical exertion of the hunt.
He turned to you again, offering a hand. You scoffed, ignoring his hand and leaping on the higher ground yourself. The hunt went flawlessly with three clean kills, but the tension between the two of you only tightened during the trek back.
The pack stopped by a shallow stream to wash the sweat and dirt from their skin. You sat slightly apart from the group on a fallen log, running a whetstone down the edge of your hunting knife when a few paces away, you saw Ley’a, a huntress your age, approached Neteyam. Neteyam, being the dutiful and polite warrior that he was, leaned down slightly to listen, speaking to her with that effortless, smooth charm that came naturally to him.
You saw him smiled, gesturing toward the canopy as if he was explaining something.
You didn't even realize you were staring until the stone slipped against your blade with a sharp, harsh screech. You swallowed and aggressively rolled your eyes, your lips in a thin line as something hot and ugly twisted sharply in your gut. You didn't understand why it was there, but it blinded you.
When the trek resumed again, you walked ahead of everyone, your pace faster than usual and your chin tilted high. Your sharp eyes snapped to your side when you heard footsteps coming, and your brows furrowed immediately when you saw Neteyam’s smirk.
“Are you upset about something?” he asked, matching your pace effortlessly, his strides sure and confident.
You didn’t answer. You wanted to be left alone with your thoughts, but here he is again, taunting words out of you.
“You walk fast when you’re upset.” he added.
You finally turned to him, your eyes narrowed and before your mind could stop your tongue, you spoke, “You speak quite smoothly to girls for a man who is practically spoken for, Neteyam,” you said, your tone dripping with a cold, sarcastic bite.
He looked surprise for a moment, but the smirk returned to his face, though his eyes narrowed with a sudden, intense curiosity. “And what is that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“I am merely wondering what Ateya of the Anurai would say about it,” you scoffed. “Her future mate being a certified womanizer, smooth-talking and flashing his smiles at every huntress. Personally, I would hate to have such a weak-willed mate.”
Neteyam’s lips parted, lagging behind for a fraction of a minute, watching your large steps put a distance between you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he walked after you, his stride purposeful. You looked at him, somehow you’re bothered that he might be angry about what you said, but he didn't look angry; he looked absolutely thrilled by your bite, his cocky persona flaring to life.
“A womanizer?” Neteyam whispered, walking right beside you and leaning down slightly so his face was level with yours. “What are you talking about, smooth-talking and flasing smiles at every huntress?” he asked, his hand itching to touch your forearm but he balled it into a fist.
You didn’t respond, you just continued walking and he kept matching your pace.
“Was it about Ley’a earlier?” he mumbled, his voice so quiet and intimate that it brought heat to your face. “I was just answering a question about a tracking trail,” he explained, his steps growing larger. He walked backward so he could look at you better, his head tilting at the silent ire on your face. “Do you care who I smile at, Y/N?”
Your face crumpled and he chuckled, “I do not care at all,” you snapped back quickly, your chest heaving as you glared up at him. “I am simply making an observation on your character. Or lack thereof.”
“Right. An observation,” he repeated as he raised a brow, his face so light and vibrant you could see the way his pupils were dilating. “Because for someone who claims to find me so arrogant and obnoxious, you seem to spend a remarkable amount of time keeping track of my betrothal status. Should I tell my father to cancel the council meetings, then? Since my future seems to weigh so heavily on your mind?”
Your face burned a deep, furious violet. You stopped abruptly, nearly knocking your shoulder into his chest as you pushed past him.
“Do whatever you want, Neteyam,” you hissed under your breath before marching ahead. “You are entirely insufferable.”
Neteyam didn't follow you right away, he stood by the stream and watched your rigid, angry retreat with a heavy, breathless exhale. His hand traced his jawline, a slow, triumphant grin spreading across his face as his tail flicked lazily behind him.
You looked jealous, absolutely furious, and you seemed very bothered by his betrothal status. He didn’t want to rejoice in the knowledge that you were upset about it, but he couldn’t help it. The heavy weight of the council’s impending arrangements suddenly felt a little lighter. He had a foothold now. And he wasn't going to let it go.
The days following the hunt felt entirely different. The invisible wall you had spent years building was actively crumbling, and the worst part was that you were no longer trying to patch it up.
Neteyam had taken what happened and run with it, his pursuit turning into a relentless, everyday occurrence. He seemed to possess an infuriating ability to materialize out of thin air whenever you were alone.
One afternoon, you were high up in the middle branches of Hometree, sitting on a secluded edge to practice your weaving skills on soft strips of fabric. Your fingers felt thick and clumsy as you tried to lace the soft strips together. You are useless in this for you had never really taken an interest in the domestic arts.
But now... You thought weaving would be a great skill to add to your repertoire.
It’s proving to be a great challenge, though, and staring at the frayed, knotted mess in your lap, you wanted to yank your own braids out for your sudden stupidity. Why had you never thought of ever learning this before? How are you supposed to even weave a loincloth for your future children if you cannot even cross two threads? A scowl deepened on your face.
The thought that you were thinking of children tore through your trance as a sudden, unauthorized image of a child with very familiar features came into your mind. You gasped sharply, your face burning a violent purple.
With a frustrated groan, you balled up the tangled mess of fabrics and threw it violently across the ledge. “Useless,” you hissed to the empty air.
“What is it that you’re upset about now?”
You nearly jumped out of your skin.
Neteyam dropped gracefully from the thick branch above, landing silently on the ledge just a few feet away. He was leaning against the bark, his arms crossed over his chest, a wildly amused smirk playing on his lips. He had a way of appearing out of nowhere lately. At the river, near your training lanes, and now in your private sanctuary.
Your mask snapped back into place, though your heart was hammering against your ribs. “Do you make a habit of stalking me, Neteyam, or do you simply have nothing better to do with your time?”
His lips twisted. “I was actually on my way to the training grounds,” he lied smoothly, taking a slow, confident step closer. His eyes dropped to the tangled ball of fabric on the ledge, and then drifted back up to your flushed face. “But then I saw the fiercest huntress I know fighting a losing battle against some fabrics. I couldn't just walk away.”
“I am not fighting it,” you retorted.
“Right. You're just glaring at it until it weaves itself,” he teased, his voice dropping into that low, rumbling register. He walked over, picking up the discarded bundle. With agonizing slowness, his hands began to effortlessly untangle the knots you had spent an hour making. “You have too much tension in your hands, holding it like a throat you want to crush.”
You watched his fingers move. They were calloused from weapons, larger than yours, yet they handled the delicate threads with a startling, gentle precision. A strange warmth settled deep in your stomach. You were too hyper-aware of how close he was, of the scent of mint and rain on his skin, and the effortless way he commanded your space.
“There...” he mumbled, showing you a perfect line of two woven strips.
You glanced at him through the fringe of your lashes, seeing the small smile on his face. A faint shadow of fear bloomed in your chest and you looked down, “Where did you learn?”
“My mother,” he answered, glancing up at you with a bright smile before he looked back down on his work. “Well, sort of. She’d always tell us to be responsible of our own clothes if it gets a hole or a tear.”
“I didn’t know that...” you mumbled.
He smirked, but somehow it looked less cocky and more... wistful. “The same way I know you can’t weave.”
Your forehead creased. “How’d you know?” you asked, glaring at him but you both know it held nothing bad.
“I pay attention,” he shrugged. “Why are you suddenly taking an interest in this?”
You took the strips from him, your eyes playfully narrowed. “I thought you know things from observing?”
“I guess I'll need to observe more when you weave... So, I can form a guess,” he said.
You pushed your lips forward, wrapping the strips he made on your wrist. “I suck at this. There's no next time.”
“You don’t really need to learn weaving if you don’t want to, you know...” he said, sitting on the branch comfortably.
You thought of the Anurai... About how they are meticulous artisans and how some of the clan’s best tapestries used for certain ceremonies are their handiwork. You didn’t even know you were scowling at your own thoughts, and once again, before you could think properly, you spoke.
“Easy for you to say as someone who would be mating an Anurai,” you said in a clipped tone, gathering your stuff and standing up to leave him there.
His jaw dropped, watching your form retreat and jump a branch down. “What...?” he whispered in the air.
You kept climbing down, the soft soles of your feet gripping the bark as you practically fled from the raw confusion on his face. The weight of your irrational feelings and thoughts were a heavy, suffocating thing and it followed you for days.
You were down by the rivers, tucked away in the humid shade of the trees for another one of your group’s picnics. Over the past years, you had actually grown genuinely close to Lekya, Reti, and Kar’ek. They had ceased to be just annoying people tailing you around, they were now your good friends.
While the three of them babbled animatedly about the latest gossips, you were hunched over, your forehead creased in absolute, soul-crushing concentration. You were trying to recreate the exact interlocking loop Neteyam had shown you on the branch. Your tongue peeked out between your teeth as you fought a thick strand of reed.
“I am just saying,” Reti sighed, leaning back on a woven mat and fanning herself, “if Mar’tu looks at me like that during the next illumination feast, I might just have to let him carry my baskets. He has those shoulders, you know?”
“Oh, please,” Lekya scoffed, tossing a seed at her. “Mar’tu trips over his own feet. If you want shoulders, you look at the patrol leaders.”
Reti sighed, “And what do the patrol leaders even like? They won’t like someone like me. I’m a weaver, Lekya, for freak’s sake. If a mere hunter likes me, I can’t be choosey.”
You pushed your lips forward and glanced up at her, your forehead creased, “Rita. Don’t speak of yourself that way,” you reprimanded. “You’re an excellent weaver. Look at me, I can’t even weave to save my life.” You showed her your botched work. “Who cares about whether warriors and hunters like any of us? They are idiots.”
They bursted out laughing. “Well, I supposed we’ll take it from you. You’re the huntress,” Reti grinned.
“You never grew out of your annoyance for them,” Lekya said. “Where will you find romance if you don’t like any of them?”
You scowled and they laughed harder.
“Well, some of us don't have to look far for romance,” Kar’ek chimed in, leaning forward with a wicked grin. He was lounging on a pile of soft moss, his fingers idly twirling a blade of grass. “Some of us are having secret midnight swims by the eastern pools with a certain hunter whose name rhymes with Zdin’rey.”
Lekya and Reti gasped in unison, leaning in. “Kar’ek! You didn't!”
“But I did,” Kar’ek purred, tossing his braids over his shoulder. “And honey, it was mmaculate!”
Lekya pouted, “Weren’t you with Nakvu last moon?”
Kar’ek snorted, “Well, I realized, I can just take, and take, and take. There are plenty of choices and we must always test the auditonees.”
You chuckled and Kar’ek’s attention pinned on you. He shifted on the grass, grabbing a piece of pie and popping it into his mouth.
“Enough about my scandalous exploits. What about our resident huntress?”
Another two pairs of eyes suddenly locked onto you. You kept your gaze glued to your terrible weaving, though.
“What about me?” you asked coldly, trying to sound aloof.
“You are of age, Y/N. A fully decorated debutante,” Kar’ek pointed out.
Lekya nodded at you, “The warriors practically fall over their own feet trying to offer you meat at the communal fires, and you look at them like they are pile of viperwolf dung.”
“Maybe because they are annoying,” you muttered, shoving a fiber under another.
“Okay, true for some,” Lekya agreed. “But what about Tayrel? He’s still single. Or maybe someone from the older batches? What about Janu?”
Before you could voice your disgust, Kar’ek let out a loud, dramatic groan, slapping his forehead with a broad leaf. “Oh, by Eywa's grace, stop it! Please! You two are giving me a headache with these horrific suggestions.” He sat up, glaring at Lekya and Reti like they had lost their minds. “Why are you two suggesting so many names when there is a very obvious one right in front of her face?”
Your glanced up at him with furrowed brows, accidentally bending a fiber completely out of shape. “My face?”
Kar’ek rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. “Girl, you’re blind,” he said before leaning in. “Neteyam!” he whisper-shouted.
“Oh...” Lekya’s face brightened. “But he’s... I mean, the council—”
“The council can eat dirt,” Kar’ek interrupted shamelessly, waving his hand dismissively. He turned his full attention to you, his eyes glittering with pure gossip-fueled joy. “Y/N, darling, look at me. Put that plant down.”
You slowly raised your head, keeping your face as blank as possible, though your ears were burning hot against your hair. “Neteyam is my brother's best friend. He is an extension of my family.”
“Honey, if my brother’s friend looked at me the way Neteyam looks at you, I would be pregnant by the next eclipse,” Kar’ek said flatly.
“Kar'ek!” you hissed, your face flushing a violent violet.
“I am serious!” Kar’ek leaned in, his voice dropping into an intense, dramatic whisper. “I am an observer of men, Y/N. It is my spiritual calling. And I am telling you, he is crazy about you. Utterly ruined by you.”
You shook your head, “You are crazy. That’s not possible,” you said. “He teases everyone."
“Oh, please. Remember when you accidentally dropped your dagger into the communal fire? Who burned his hand pulling it out before the blade gets ruined? Neteyam. And what about the time during the rainy season when your kelku’s roof had that massive tear? Your father was away on clan business and your brother on patrol, and suddenly Neteyam shows up with three layers of fresh thatch, claiming they ‘had extra’ and he just happened to be passing by. He spent four hours in a downpour fixing it, looking like a drowned, miserable banshee, just so you wouldn't get cold!”
“Shut up, Kar'ek,” you mumbled, your voice entirely stripped of its usual icy armor. You stared down at the messy, tangled weaving in your lap, knowing that the flutter in your chest wasn't from anger or defense.
“Oh, I am not shutting up, because you need to hear the rest of this,” Kar’ek insisted, practically vibrating with excitement as he leaned even closer, gesturing wildly with his hands. xLekya, Reti, back me up on this. We are making a list because this girl is living in a complete state of delusion.”
“Alright,” Reti agreed instantly, abandoning her fern leaf. “I remember that time when your mount got that nasty deep scratch from a nightwraith attack during patrol and he stayed up for two full nights helping you by gathering the herbs in the high cliffs, grinding the soothing paste and applying it on your ikran? At least, the healers got their sleep, but Neteyam definitely didn’t.”
Your lips twisted when you remembered. You were so scared for your ikran then, panicking and crying, but he took care of everything. He didn’t even like herbs, you thought. Nobody likes herbs but the healers... But he still took care of it.
“And he beat Kutri into a pulp at the Great Feast because of you,” Lekya said with a dreamy look on her face.
“Exactly!” Kar’ek clapped his hands together triumphantly. “The man is the future leader of our people, completely disciplined and perfect, until someone breathes too loud in your direction.”
You huffed a breath through your nose. Your chest was heaving, your skin tingling with a sudden, overwhelming rush of warmth. Kar’ek’s words were too overwhelming, painting a picture you had spent years denying. Neteyam... likes you. No, according to Kar’ek, he was entirely consumed by you.
“You have him on a leash, Y/N. You just refuse to pull it,” Kar’ek added, leaning back with a smug grin.
At the same time, Neteyam was standing in the heavy atmosphere of the council as the elders discussed how to maintain the strategic alliance with the Aranahe clan, casually receiving strays from elders who couldn’t undetermined his decision.
“The Aranahe look to solidify our treaties,” one of the senior elders spoke up, leaning forward. “Their Olo'eyktan has always expressed a desire for a match. Ateya isn’t his only child. His eldest son, a fierce hunter, is also open to find a mate from our finest bloodlines.”
Jake Sully sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “My daughter, Kiri, has no mind for things like this, Elder.”
“It needed not be Kiri, Jake,” the elder replied smoothly. He turned his gaze slowly across the circle, letting it rest squarely on your father. “Levakan... your daughter, Y/N. She has just come of age. She is fit to be paired with an Olo'eyktan’s heir. Proud, brave, beautiful, and strong.”
Across the room, Neteyam froze.
Every ounce of air left his lungs. His ears instantly pinned back flat against his head, his tail lashing behind him with a sudden, violent twitch. His golden eyes locked onto the elder with a glare so fiercely lethal it could have pierced through armor. How dare he suggest handing you over to an outsider?
Neteyam’s eyes flew to your father, his heart hammering in a frantic, terrifying panic. He waited for Levakan to refuse. He waited for him to protect his daughter from being shipped off to another clan.
Instead, your father remained perfectly calm. He tilted his head, pretending to weigh the option with a thoughtful expression.
“My daughter is dutiful, Elder,” your father said, his voice loud and clear. “She understands the weight of our family’s standing. I will talk to her and see what I can do, if she is open to it.”
Neteyam’s face completely crumpled, a suffocating pain twisting in his chest. His fist clenched so hard his wrapped knuckles turned white.
If she is open to it.
Neteyam remembered the night on the branch, your soft laughter, and the way you had scowled and said you liked none of the men in this clan because they all got on your nerves. A sickening wave of dread washed over him. If you hated all the boys here... that would mean you were open to choosing a man from the outside?
From across the fire, Levakan caught the look of utter, desperate panic written across Neteyam’s face. Your father hid a satisfied smirk behind his cup, knowing the game had officially begun, and Neteyam finally knew he couldn't afford to wait in the shadows any longer.
It’s not like both of you ever asked for a sign from Eywa, but the Great Mother still found it in herself to deliver an entire diplomatic circus to make both of your lives miserable. The Aranahe clan will be making a clan visit for the upcoming feast and the looming threat of the council’s political matchmaking bothered you both endlessly.
For you, the distress manifested as a tight, biting irritation. Every time someone mentioned Ateya’s name, your stomach twisted with something sharp and ugly. For Neteyam, it was a quiet, frantic desperation. He spent days trying to sense if your father had already presented the elder's suggestion about Tuvek, the Aranahe Olo’eyktan's firstborn son, to you, and more terrifyingly, if you actually thought it was a good idea.
When he caught you alone near the ikran ledges one afternoon, he looked entirely too relaxed for someone whose life was being rearranged by a council of old men. You were violently untangling a leather riding strap, your ears pinned back, when a shadow fell over you.
“Careful,” Neteyam’s voice purred. He was leaning casually against a pillar, one ankle crossed over the other, a lazy, infuriatingly handsome smirk playing on his lips. “You keep yanking it like that and you'll snap the hide. Though, I suppose it's impressive how much anger you can pack into such small hands.”
You snapped a sharp gaze on him. He looked like he is sleeping well, even more, like he was having the best days of his life anticipating the Aranahe. Your fingers aggressively knotted the leather, “Go away.”
He didn't take the hint, stepping right into your space until the heat of his chest was brushing your shoulder. He tilted his head, his golden eyes dancing with that familiar, cocky light. “I notice the second-in-command looking like he is in a very good mood these days, almost as if he is as waiting for a huge celebration. Care to share what it is about, sleepyhead?”
The strap snapped in your hands with a sharp crack.
Your head whipped around, your chest heaving with all the suffocating anxiety you’d been drowning in for days. “Perhaps it’s about your mating with Ateya of the Aranahe. Who knows? We could be celebrating that in time with the feast.”
Neteyam’s smirk faltered for a fraction, his eyes narrowing in surprise at the sheer venom in your voice, but he recovered quickly, raising an amused brow. This again. If you didn’t look so mad, he’d think you want to cry.
“Let me worry about that,“ he said, waiting for another reaction.
Which he got when you glared up at him with yours eyes blazing. “Right. So stop asking me about my father when you could ask my brother about whatever. Worry about your own looming bond. Go flash your perfect smiles at Ateya once she arrives, and figure out how to be a dutiful mate to the Aranahe, since you're so excellent at playing the perfect future chief!“
You didn't wait for his response. You turned on your heel and stormed off down the path, your tail lashing violently behind you.
Behind you, Neteyam stood frozen, the broken strap clutched in his hand. The cocky smirk completely vanished from his face. He wanted a reaction, yes, but Great Mother, he only made you angrier than you already were.
Then, the night of the feast arrived.
The central clearing was ablaze with a roaring fire, but to you, the atmosphere felt cold. The Aranahe Olo’eyktan, his mate, and his two children were seated at the high dais alongside Jake and his family. Ateya was intentionally placed right next to Neteyam. From your seat at your family’s own dais, you couldn't even swallow your food. Every time Ateya leaned in to whisper something to him, every time Neteyam offered her a smile, the food in your mouth tasted like ash.
You hated what you were feeling. You wished with everything in you that you could go back to how things used to be, back when you could pretend you were just annoyed by him. But as you watched them, you were confronted with a bitter truth. There was never a time you didn't care. You had always noticed him. For years, you had stubbornly pretended you didn't understand why he did things for you.
Why he would risk to burn his hand to get you your favorite dagger, why he would get out of his way to help you even when you never been kind to him. You had been selfish, rude, and mean, using your sharp tongue as a shield. Looking at Ateya, someone sweet, gentle, and flawlessly poise, you felt a sinking, hollow ache in your chest. She is exactly the kind of woman he deserves.
When the dinner concluded, one of the senior elders brought you over to introduce you to Tuvek. Although you were in no mood for pleasantries, your own courtesy forced you to stay. When Tuvek politely asked about the fermented fruit wine, you forced your voice into a steady rhythm, spending nearly half an hour conversing with him about the local beverages, the traditional food, and the story of the tribe dances.
Yet, your eyes were constantly drifting back across the clearing, tracking Neteyam. You felt two feet small, as if you had been completely skinned and left exposed to the cold wind.
“The steps to the third dance are actually quite complex,” Tuvek was saying, leaning a fraction closer, his eyes fixed intently on your face. “I would be honored if you showed me the footwork, once it comes again, Y/N. A huntress of your skill must move beautifully on the mats.”
“She moves beautifully, alright,” A low, smooth purr chimed in and you nearly jumped out of your skin.
You turned to hjm with a sharp glare, your eyes tracking Ateya a few paces away, standing alone in the crowd; but when she saw you glance at her, she started moving. You snapped your gaze back to Neteyam and saw him flashing a sharp, dazzling smile at Tuvek, though his golden eyes remained completely cold, tracking the man like a target.
“Assuming you don't mind getting your toes flattened. Our fiercest huntress tends to dance exactly how she hunts. Zero mercy and absolutely no regard for those trying to keep up with her.”
Your jaw nearly dropped. You snapped your gaze to him, your ears pinning back instantly. You were just about to hiss a lethal retort when a soft, melodic voice cut through the tension.
“There you are, Neteyam,” Ateya said, smoothly gliding into the circle. She offered a polite nod to you and Tuvek. “You disappeared so suddenly. I was worried you had grown bored of my company, but I am glad you’ve already introduced yourself to my brother.”
Neteyam smiled at her, “Of course, Ateya.”
You felt a sharp, ugly coil in your chest, but you quickly masked it when Ateya glances at you.
She looked at Neteyam again. “Though, I wonder if it would be rude if I steal you away for a more private conversation,” she said.
A sweet smile cut across your face as you turned your full attention to Ateya, completely ignoring Neteyam as if he were nothing more than an inconveniently placed rock.
“Oh, do not worry, Ateya,” you said. “Neteyam is simply doing what he does best: inserting himself where he isn't invited. He is very eager to come with you.”
You pushed him subtly. Tuvek blinked, looking between you two, while Ateya’s brow furrowed in mild confusion. Neteyam, however, didn't look offended at all. Instead, his smirk widened, his golden eyes dancing with absolute delight as he leaned closer to you.
“Is that what I'm doing?” Neteyam asked, his tone laced with a lazy, teasing challenge. “I thought I was just protecting our esteemed guest from a dangerous dance partner.”
“Oh, please. The only danger here is your terrible habit of sleepwalking,” you said, turning to Ateya. “You must be patient with him, that habit could triggered by too much wine. Just last moon, his family had to drag him back because he tried to climb down the Hometree in his sleep, said he was chasing a viperwolf.”
Tuvek chuckled, thoroughly baffled by the image of the stoic Neteyam sleep-hunting. Ateya looked at Neteyam with a confused smile, while the man stared at you, entirely captivated by how fiercely you were trying to embarrass him.
“Is that right?” Neteyam asked. “I don't remember chasing a viperwolf, sleepyhead.”
“Of course you don't, you were asleep,” you shot back smoothly, turning back to Ateya with a pitying shake of your head. "It's tragic, really. He also snores like a dying banshee when it rains. It's a miracle his family gets any rest at all. I only tell you this so you know what you are getting into, should he ever be left without a mouth guard during a monsoon.”
Ateya looked genuinely startled by your bluntness, her eyes darting to Neteyam to see if his pride would flare. “Oh... I see,” she offered softly, trying to find her footing in the conversation. “I suppose everyone has their... quirks.”
“Oh, he is full of them,” you replied instantly, your smile tightening.
“Hm,” Neteyam huffed a laugh, stepping even closer into your space, completely unfazed by your trashing. If anything, your desperate attempt to ruin his reputation seemed to intoxicate him. He tilted his head, his voice dropping into a low, private purr meant only for you. “You seem to know an awful lot about my nighttime habits. One might think you spend your evenings watching over me.”
“Oh, no, it’s the talk of the village,” you waved a dismissive hand and rolled your eyes.
Just in time, the rhythm for the dance Tuvek was talking about sounded and Tuvek glances at you. “There’s the dance.”
You smiled. "I’ll honor you." You gave Tuvek your hand, and he accepted it with a polite, sweeping bow, guiding you onto the crowded dance floor.
As you moved with Tuvek, matching the rhythmic thrum of the drums, the adrenaline from your bickering with Neteyam began to bleed away, leaving behind a hollow ache of the previous days. Tuvek was a perfectly fine partner, his movements were precise, his manner exceptionally polite, but you felt entirely disconnected from your own body. You felt two feet small again, a fraud hiding behind a confident huntress.
During a synchronized turn, your eyes drifted toward the council’s dais. You caught the line of vision of several senior elders and how they were all watching Neteyam and Ateya in approval. You followed their gaze and saw Ateya who had a dreamy, captivated look on her face, her eyes fixed entirely on him as she spoke about something.
Your eyes slid to the figure beside her, your heart jumping to your throat when you saw him watching you with an intense focus. You swiftly looked away, pretending to enjoy the rhythm.
The moment the music swelled to a finish, you offered Tuvek a nod. “It was a great pleasure to be in your company, Tuvek, but you must forgive me. I want to excuse myself.”
Before he could offer to accompany you, you practically fled, slipping past the dancing bodies. You jumped a few branches down until you are out in the comfort of the surrounding forest. The heavy beat of the drums faded, replaced by the sharp cracks of leaves under your soles. But you barely had time to draw a ragged breath before the distinct, deliberate sound of footsteps echoed behind you.
You spun around, your arms instantly crossing tightly over your chest in defense. Through the glowing blue and magenta bioluminescence, you saw Neteyam tracking you, his long strides steady and unrelenting.
“Leave me alone,” you hissed, your voice clipping with vulnerability.
“No,” Neteyam said. As he stepped fully into the pale light of a glowing fern, your breath caught. He looked angry. It was a hard, clenching tight line of his jaw. A dangerous, fierce expression you had never once seen him direct at you.
Your eyes narrowed as you focused on him, your own temper flaring to mask the sudden sting of tears. “Are you angry?”
“I suppose I am,” he said, his voice a low, rough vibration.
“At me?” you asked, a bitter, defensive laugh bubbling up in your throat. Your chin lifted defiantly. “Mad at me for what? Because I disparaged your pristine image to your precious Ateya? Oh, don't worry, Neteyam, I don't think she cares at all! She was still looking at you with heart-shaped eyes the entire night!”
“You think I care about her?” Neteyam stepped sharply into your space, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his golden eyes blazing. “I couldn't care less what she thinks of me! But I certainly cared about watching you hand your palm over to her brother! I cared about watching him lean into your face, talking about how 'beautifully' you move!”
“He was just being polite!” you yelled, your voice cracking as the sheer pressure of the past week finally broke through your defenses. “And you should, too, I saw the council. They approved of you two—”
“I don't want Ateya!” Neteyam roared, grabbing your upper arms, his grip firm, unyielding, but entirely careful not to hurt you. “And I don't want you anywhere near him! It was driving me insane, Y/N. Watching him touch you, watching you smile at him, and knowing you’re somehow mad at me again for only Eywa knows what. Because unlike him, I can’t seem to do anything right by you!”
Your chest heaved. Your inner lip was caught between your teeth as a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion hit you. His words felt like a direct proof of the thoughts you had just harbored at the feast. He had shown you nothing but absolute, relentless kindness his entire life, and you had paid him back in nothing coldness and meanness.
You swallowed hard, quickly turning your head to hide the hot tears that were suddenly pooling in your eyes. But you weren't fast enough. Neteyam took a sharp, panicked breath the moment he saw the glint of moisture on your cheek.
“Fuck. Are you crying?” he rushed out, his long strides instantly eating away the remaining space between you. The anger was completely gone, replaced by pure panic. “I didn't mean for it to come across that way. Shit. I'm so sorry I said that. Please don't cry.”
You shook your head, the hot tears finally spilling over and tracking down your face. Before you could pull away, his large hands came up, firmly but gently grasping your upper arms to steady you.
“No? Then what is it? Was it Tuvek?” his body went instantly rigid, his ears flattening as a dangerous, protective growl vibrated in his throat. “Did he say something to you?”
“No,” you sniffled, your own hands automatically coming up to grip his forearms, feeling the hard, steady muscle beneath his skin. “You were right, Neteyam. You can't do anything right by me, but you are not to blame for that. I am. I am so mean to you. So needlessly cruel and defensive at times, when all you've ever wanted to do was help me, and protect me, and I—”
“Hey. Shh,” he hushed you softly, pulling you forward and wrapping his massive, warm arms around your trembling frame and tucking your head securely against his chest. “What are you even saying? You could never do anything to me that I do not let you do. Don’t think of me as some victim.”
“That’s the exact problem,” you mumbled against his bare chest, your voice muffled but fierce. “You are such an idiot. You would literally allow me to impale you with a hunter's spear if I told you I wanted to.”
A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated against your cheek. Neteyam squeezed you a little tighter, his chin resting against the top of your head. “I definitely would,” he whispered quietly.
A profound, heavy silence fell over you both. Neteyam slowly pulled back just enough to look down at your face, his golden eyes filled with a softness that made your knees weak as he traced the glowing pattern of your bioluminescent freckles—the stars he saw every single time he closed his eyes.
“You like me...” you mumbled, the words feeling like a sacred, forbidden secret leaving your lips.
“Like?” Neteyam echoed, a small, breathless smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe... when I was a boy.” His gaze darkened, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “But I am a man grown now. And my feelings grew out of the 'like' territory a very long time ago.”
You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to process the intensity in his eyes. Remembering the scandalous, late-night gossip sessions with Kar'ek and the girls, you blinked up at him innocently. “You... you lust for me?”
Neteyam snorted, a sharp burst of genuine laughter barking from his chest. His large frame shook against yours, his white teeth flashing in the dark. Your lips twisted into a pout, your face thoroughly confused, but a spark of warmth bloomed in your gut just watching his unbridled joy.
“I do,” he admitted freely, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze dropped to your mouth for a heavy, lingering second. “I definitely do. But what I mean is... I love you. I am completely, entirely in love with you. I have been for years, Y/N. There is no one else. There never has been. And never will be.”
You looked up at him, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs you were certain he could hear it. You tried as hard as you could to hide the massive smile tugging at your lips, burying your face slightly back into his chest. “You are an idiot...” you mumbled.
Neteyam let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his ears pinning back in absolute, staggering relief. He didn’t back down. Instead, his hand slid up to the back of your neck, his long fingers tangling gently into your hair as he tilted your face up, demanding your full attention.
“For being crazy over and falling in love with the clan’s fiercest, most stubborn huntress?” he asked, his voice dropping to a rough, intense whisper. “Perhaps I am. I am a massive idiot.”
You playfully glared at him, your hand tracing the curve of his arm. But the vulnerability rushed back, and your gaze lowered to his chest, your forehead creasing as your lower lip gave a small, telling tremble. “I got... so jealous of Ateya tonight. I was so jealous, Neteyam, I wanted to cry during dinner.” You looked up, your eyes wide and searching. “ think she would do well. She seems like a good woman, a good huntress... and an even better weaver, from what everyone says.”
A deeply humored, incredibly smug look washed over his features, a familiar, cocky smirk returning to his lips. “Do well with what?”
“With you,” you said, poking his chest sharply.
His head tilted, his thumb caressing your jawline. “I rejected the match with her for years because I wanted someone else,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “And now this someone else is crying because she thinks I’ll ever look at another woman and forget the only one I’ve ever wanted.”
Your lips twisted. “I am not good to you,” you repeated softly.
Neteyam squeezed your hand, bringing his face so close your noses brushed. “I don’t care. I love you. And I don’t care if you don’t feel the same right now,” he said with an absolute, unyielding intensity. “I only wish for your happiness. So whatever it takes, I will do it. I will take whatever fire or ice you throw my way.”
“Me, too,” you whispered.
Neteyam froze, his eyes widening a fraction. “You do?”
Your eyes went wide as you realized what you had just admitted, your heart leaping into your throat. “I—I mean, I want you to be happy, too!” you stammered, biting your lip as your gaze helplessly dropped to his mouth.
Unable to resist the pull any longer, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a quick, desperate kiss to his lips. You tried to step back in a hurry, your old defensive instincts flaring, but Neteyam’s arm tightened like steel around your waist. He pulled you flush against his body, his other hand gathering your braids to hold your head steady as he tilted your face up and kissed you properly.
He kissed you deep, hard, and possessive, molding his lips to yours with all the pent-up hunger of a man who had waited a lifetime. A soft, breathless moan escaped your throat against his mouth, your fingers gripping tightly into the muscles of his shoulders. It felt good. Shockingly, terrifyingly good.
He finally pulled away just enough to let you breathe, his lips trailing hot, damp paths down your jawline while his large hand cupped your cheek. You angled your head, desperate to kiss him again, but the sudden, distinct rustle of heavy footsteps nearby cut through the haze.
You moved away from him faster than lightning, your heart leaping into your throat. You started walking back toward the clearing like a startled yerik caught in a hunter's sights, only to freeze when you spotted Sak'nur walking down the path not a few paces away.
“There you are,” Sak'nur said, stopping. “Father told me to find you. What are you doing out—” He broke off, his forehead creasing deeply as his eyes slid behind you. “Neteyam?”
Your entire frame jolted. You quickly crossed your arms over your chest. “We ran past each other near the clearing,“ you lied smoothly, your voice barely trembling. “... I was only out for some cold air and alone time.”
“And Neteyam?” your brother asked, his sharp eyes darting suspiciously between the two of you.
You turned to look at Neteyam, seeing that he still looked completely stupefied, his ears twitching as he pointed a thumb vaguely behind himself, his lips opening and closing as if his verbals skills had entirely failed him.
“He was out to make sure there are no dangers in the vicinity,” you covered for him, stepping closer to your brother. “What does father want?”
Sak'nur stared at you, clearly unsatisfied with the answers but unable to pinpoint why. “He wants to speak with you about an important matter, apparently.”
“Alright, I'm going,” you said, offering a tight smile before turning back toward Hometree.
The two warriors followed you back to the communal clearing. You walked up to your father, who immediately drew you aside to a quieter corner of the clearing, away from the roaring heat of the central fire.
“Daughter,” your father began, his voice dropping into the low tone he used when speaking of clan matters. “The elders have spoken with me. They believe a pairing between you and Tuvek would secure a vital line of trust between our hunters. He is a formidable warrior, and his father is a powerful ally.”
You stood before him, but you could hardly think straight. Your skin was still flushed and your lips were practically burning, still tingling from the possessive pressure of Neteyam's mouth. The contrast between your father's political gravity and the wild, illicit heat flooding your veins was dizzying. You had absolutely no intention of entertaining a single word of what the council wanted.
“He seems like a good man, Father,” you said, forcing your voice to sound entirely detached, though your heart was still hammering against your ribs. “But I have no interest in him. Or his clan's alliances.”
Your father nodded, taking a slow sip from his cup. “He is an Olo'eyktan's firstborn son, daughter. It is a match of great honor. Are you telling me your heart is already occupied elsewhere?”
Your breath hitched, but you quickly locked your jaw, “Father, I am not interested in being a wife at this age, to be honest. I want to... sharpen my skills, so to say. But if the elders want an alliance, we have other huntresses from good lineage they can trade.”
Your father hid another slow satisfied smirk behind his cup. He had seen the way Neteyam had practically bolted out of the clearing after you, and he could see the telltale flush on your cheeks now. If the fact that you’re both singing the same tune isn’t enough proof.
“Very well,” he murmured evenly, tapping your shoulder. “I will tell the elders you wish to weigh the gravity of the decision first, but we won’t speak of this again.”
Across the room, Neteyam was standing with Sak'nur, feigning interest in whatever your brother is saying, but his golden eyes were locked onto you. He watched your expression, knowing how dutiful you were to your family, silently praying that just this once, you would listen to nothing but your own heart.
The moment he saw you walk away from your father, Neteyam set his bowl of brew down and patted Sak'nur on the back. His eyes met yours from across the crowded, firelit room, and he gave a subtle jerk of his head toward the outer branches. You gave a barely perceptible nod, slipping out of the feast once more.
As you walked along the high pathway of the outer branches, a large, warm hand wrapped firmly around your elbow, gently pulling you back into the darkness of a massive trunk.
“Your father...?” Neteyam began, his voice tight with anxiety.
Your lips twisted as you tried to stifle a massive smile. “He told me about an arrangement with Tuvek,” you murmured, watching his grip tighten on your arm. “I told him I am not interested.”
Neteyam let out a long, shuddering huff of relief. You smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tiptoeing to press your lips to his. He kissed you back instantly, a soft, purring rumble in his chest. “Good,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Good.”
You smiled against his lips, pulling back slightly. “Listen,” you whispered, your expression turning serious. “I don't want to hide this... but I don't know how to tell my brother. Or my father. Or anyone, for that matter. Do you understand?”
Neteyam looked deep into your eyes, his gaze overflowing with tenderness. “I'm not complaining,” he smiled, leaning down to press another soft kiss to your lips. “We’ll do whatever you want. At your pace, baby.”
“Y/N?”
You jumped away from Neteyam instantly, spinning toward the entryway of the clearing to see Kar’ek standing there. His sharp eyes immediately narrowed into suspicious slits as he watched Neteyam stepping back into the shadows.
“Kar'ek,” you greeted, trying to sound breathless from walking, not kissing.
“We were just looking for you. It is time for the dancing!” Kar’ek said, dynamically swaying his hips to the distant rhythm of the drums.
“Right! I'll be there with you guys soon,” you grinned.
“Oh-kay...” Kar’ek dragged out, his eyes narrowing further as a massive, knowing smirk spread across his face. He shot a heavily loaded look toward Neteyam's shadow before turning on his heel and sauntering away.
That night was only the beginning. What followed was a succession of secret, thrilling rendezvous that left your heart permanently racing. You two were practically compiling your own list of offenses: like hiding beneath the massive roots of Hometree, your muffled giggles pressed against his chest while a hunting patrol walked mere paces away; the midnight flights on your ikrans to the highest, mist-shrouded cliffs just to share a single, stolen blanket from Tuk to take a nap; the hidden moments behind the weapon racks where he would boldly press you against the wood as he kisses you, his hand anchoring your hip while your brother is looking for him in the training grounds; and the quiet dawn swims in the river, washing the dirt from your skin while his hands mapped the curves of your body beneath the water.
You felt like you were living out one of Kar’ek’s scandalous escapades, and you couldn't help but laugh out loud whenever you recounted your friend's wild gossip to Neteyam during your hidden hours.
“Who exactly are these anonymous hunters?” Neteyam asked one afternoon, sounding thoroughly scandalized but chuckling warmly as he adjusted you comfortably on his lap. You were hidden deep within the hollow of an ancient tree.
“I won’t give any names,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “But let’s just say he is definitely not running out of boys to play with.”
“May Eywa give those poor boys strength,” Neteyam laughed, his chest rumbled against your back. “The same way she giveas me strength...”
You smirked, shifting your weight and swinging your legs over his thighs to straddle his lap completely. “I think there is a very low supply...” you whispered, cupping his strong jaw and leaning down to press a deep, teasing kiss to his lips.
Neteyam let out a low groan, his hands immediately finding your hips. You pulled away just an inch, chuckling softly against his skin.
“See? Low supply.”
“You are entirely unfair,” he growled playfully. His large hand came up, clamping firmly around the nape of your neck to pull you down into a deeper, far more breathless kiss. His other hand caressed your waist up to your breast, fondling gently. You smiled against his lips, grinding your hips against him as the heat between you flared.
In the succeeding weeks, the atmosphere in the communal gathering was heavy with an entirely different kind of tension. Gossips from the younger bunch spread after the elders discussed the latest news from the upper branches: a young, unmated woman had been discovered to be carrying a child, and her lover was a hunter from an outside clan.
Apparently, the two had been sneaking out for moons without anyone knowing.
Instantly, a wave of territorial protectiveness rippled through the Omatikaya men. They thought it an offense that the hunter should do it that way when he could have courted the woman. Your brother, on the other hand, knowing how many of the young hunters harbored quiet infatuations with you, issued a cryptic, booming warning to the circle.
“If any man thinks he can disrespect my sister in the dark, sneaking around behind my back,” Sak’nur growled, his eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk, “he will lose a hand before he ever sees the dawn.”
A sudden, nervous silence fell over the younger hunters. Several of them shifted uncomfortably, their faces tightening with guilt that they looked as if they were the ones actively sneaking out with you. You couldn't help but look across the fire, your eyes instantly landing on Neteyam and finding that wasn't sweating at all.
In fact, he had a deeply humored, incredibly cocky smirk playing on his lips as he raised a single, challenging eyebrow at you. Your lips twisted, and you aggressively rolled your eyes at him, though your heart gave a violent, uncontrollable flutter against your ribs.
Later that afternoon, the heat of the day had finally begun to break. You had just finished instructing a group of younger hunters in advanced archery, watching them disperse before turning back to the targets to hone your own marksmanship. You drew an arrow back, the tension of the bowstring resting against your cheek, when the distinct, soft crunch of footsteps sounded behind you.
You let the arrow fly, hitting the exact center of the target with a sharp sound, and smiled before you even turned around.
Neteyam stepped into your space, his large hand instantly snaking around your waist from behind, pulling your back flush against his chest. He lowered his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder.
“Not done yet?” he murmured, his fingers giving your waist a firm, possessive squeeze.
“Done,“ you said, unstringing the bow. "I was just practicing my aim."
"So modest, my baby..." he scoffed softly, a lopsided smirk gracing his lips as he took the bow from your hands and set it aside against the weapon rack. "As if she weren't already one of the finest marksmen this clan has ever seen. Come on. I’ll meet you up at the roost."
Your lips twisted into a small smile. You gathered your things and climbed the rocky, winding paths up to the high ikran ledges, arriving just a few minutes before him. By the time Neteyam walked up, his own saddle in hand, the sky had already begun to bleed into a bruised violet, the forest below waking up with its first faint glimmers of bioluminescence.
You both mounted and took to the sky, diving off the cliff into the open, cool air. Up in the darkening heavens, the weight of the clan entirely disappeared. You raced each other, your ikrans dipping and diving, their wings nearly brushing as you performed dizzying aerial maneuvers, laughing like children as you pushed each other higher into the clouds.
Eventually, the sky turned darker, and you guided your ikran down onto a secluded, floating mountain, a mossy grotto you both had claimed as your own secret sanctuary.
The moment your ikrans found their footing on the stone, you slid off your mount and threw yourself into Neteyam's arms. He caught you seamlessly, his large hands immediately locking around your waist to pull you flush against him. Your head was thrown back as he captured your lips, kissing you with a fierce, burning intensity that left you utterly breathless.
Your arms found purchase around his broad, powerful shoulders, matching the desperate hunger of his mouth as he slowly guided you down onto the soft, glowing moss of the grotto floor.
You let out a soft chuckle against his lips as his mouth migrated down, trailing hot, damp paths down your jawline and into the sensitive crook of your neck. You caressed his shoulders, your fingers tracing the hard muscle of his back.
"Have you not given what my brother said a single thought?" you asked breathlessly, cradling his head against your neck.
Neteyam reared his head back, looking down at you with a lazy, lopsided smile that made your stomach flip. "I am not afraid of your brother," he murmured, his golden eyes turning dark, yet carrying a sudden, wistful depth. "The only thing I am afraid of... is you waking up one day and deciding you’re completely done with me."
Your forehead creased, your heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his voice. You reached up, cupping his sharp, tattooed jawline with both hands. "That would never happen," you said with absolute emphasis, locking your eyes with his. "I love you, Neteyam. I love you very much."
Neteyam froze. His golden eyes widened a fraction, and then, a brilliant, blinding smile lit up his face, an expression of pure, unadulterated joy you rarely see on his stoic face.
"I love you more, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down to devour your lips in a soft, deeply tender kiss. "I love you so much more."
You looked up at him, smiling at the faint, unshed tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "Isn’t it quite funny?" you chuckled softly, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. "You’ve kissed me everywhere, we've broken every rule... but I haven’t actually told you that I love you until tonight."
Neteyam let out a deep, booming laugh, burying his face back into your neck, hugging you so tightly your ribs ached, peppering your skin with hot kisses. "I should have told you moons ago," you murmured, angling your head to give him better access.
"It doesn't matter," he breathed against your skin, his hands sliding down your body. "You love me now, and that is more than enough for me."
You smiled, pulling him down by his neck for another deep kiss. With a practiced, heavy motion, Neteyam’s long fingers brushed the soft, woven petals of your top away from your chest. His lips trailed a path of fire down your throat, moving lower until you arched your back with a soft gasp, completely offering yourself to him.
He suckled deeply on one breast while his large hand fondled and squeezed the other, his thumb rubbing the sensitive peak until a ragged moan tore from your throat. You let your head fall back against the cool, damp earth, your fingers tangling in the moss as he kissed his way down the flat plane of your stomach.
Neteyam slid down, his hands firmly pressing your thighs apart. You instinctively lifted your hips, allowing him to untie the leather cords of your loincloth, pulling it free from your tail. Once you were fully bare beneath him, he lowered his head between your legs.
His tongue was relentless at licking, sucking, and swirling against your slick center, guided entirely by the needy, desperate sounds leaving your lips. He held your thighs pinned against his shoulders, driving you closer and closer to the edge until your body violently shuddered, a loud cry echoing through the quiet grotto as you came against his mouth.
As the tremors slowly faded, Neteyam rose, kneeling between your parted legs. The pale bioluminescence of the floating mountain washed over him, treating you to a breathtaking view of his heavily muscled frame, his broad chest heaving, his shoulders squared as he untied his own loincloth. His eyes were fixed on you with a dark, predatory intensity. He lowered his upper body down, pinning you beneath his weight as he kissed you again, and you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.
Wanting a change, you prepared to flip your positions, aiming to slide on top of him. With a sudden shift of your hips, you successfully rolled over, though Neteyam definitely helped guide your waist, letting out a low grunt as his back hit the mossy ground.
Your lips twisted into a dark, confident smirk as you straddle him. Reaching down, your fingers wrapped around his large, thick length, looking down at him with heavy, hooded eyes. Neteyam smiled lopsidedly, his hands resting loosely on your hips as he watched you gather your own wetness, deliberately lathering it along the shaft of his cock.
His hips gave an involuntary, desperate buck as a low whimper escaped his throat. You immediately pressed a firm hand against his tense abdomen. "Relax, baby..." you whispered.
In retaliation, his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers bruising your skin. You lined his head up against your velvety lips, slowly brushing the wide, sensitive tip against your wetness, intentionally pleasuring yourself first. Neteyam watched you, completely incapable of closing his eyes even as the sheer pleasure made his jaw clench.
Finally, you guided him to your opening, adjusting the angle of your thighs to accommodate his familiar, staggering girth. You bit your lower lip as the wide head began to slip inside, knowing it would take a conscious effort to take all of him in.
You began to lower yourself down with agonizing slowness. Neteyam’s hands were firm on your waist, keeping you steady, but your own impatience suddenly got the better of you. With a sharp exhale, you sank down in one sudden, heavy motion, completely impaling yourself on him as a loud, ragged cry tore from your throat.
"Shit," Neteyam groaned, his eyes snapping shut as his arms instantly flew up to gather your upper body, holding you tight as you weakly collapsed against his chest like a broken branch hanging to a tree for dear life. "Baby..."
He wrapped his massive arms around you, his hand tilting your chin up so he could kiss you, soothing the sudden, overwhelming fullness. You kissed him back deeply, your walls tightly squeezing and suffocating his girth. You stayed entirely still, kissing and breathing together until your body finally adjusted to him.
Once the ache turned into a thrumming heat, you pushed yourself up, beginning to move rhythmically on top of him. You pushed and pulled, your hips, grinding against his as you anchored one hand firmly against his chest. Neteyam’s hands returned to your waist, guiding your pace as the speed picked up.
Your breathless moans and his deep, guttural groans echoed off the stone walls of the little grotto. In the middle of a heavy upward stroke, Neteyam's thumb found your sensitive nub, rubbing it in perfect sync with your movements. The sudden, intense friction made your entire frame tremble.
“Shit...” you quivered and he applied pressure on your nub.
“Aww...” he mumbled mockingly, his other hand fondling your breast. “You feel so good, baby...”
He was incredibly talkative even in the heat of sex, whispering praise, groaning your name, telling you how good you felt, and you absolutely loved it.
Your internal muscles clamped down hard as a violent wave of completion took over, your body shaking as you came for the second time, hugging his neck tightly while he switched your positions and lay you back on the moss to continued pounding into you. He kissed the sweat-slicked skin of your shoulder as he thrusted, finally let out a low, roaring groan, spilling himself deep inside you.
The sheer exhaustion of the night finally caught up to you, and you passed out cold in his arms and when you finally blinked your eyes open, the cool violet of the night had been replaced by the bright, piercing light. You were still tucked securely against his side, your cheek resting comfortably against his broad chest.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Neteyam whispered, a soft chuckle vibrating against your ear. “I thought we were only staying for a few hours, but then... you slept straight through the night and half the morning.”
You huffed a quiet chuckle, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his chest. “Morning to you, too, handsome,” you mumbled, propping yourself up on one elbow.
Your long braids cascaded beautifully over your shoulders, framing your face in the bright daylight. You watched as Neteyam’s golden eyes instantly dilated at the sight. "I suppose I do love sleeping in," you teased.
"I love you sleeping in, too..." he whispered, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You look so innocent when you're asleep."
You grinned, a wicked light entering your eyes. "And when I’m awake?"
"When awake... you’re my naughty little huntress," he whispered hoarsely, leaning in to playfully nip at your earlobe. "But right now, the naughty is going to have to be reined in. We need to go home. Your family is definitely looking for you by now."
You pouted, shifting your weight. "I’m a big girl, Neteyam. My father won’t care about that anymore. Or... are you suddenly scared of Sak'nur?"
Neteyam scoffed, though a confident smile quickly broke across his face. "I can handle your brother."
You smirked, your hand slowly traveling down the flat plane of his stomach until your fingers wrapped around his length, which was already hardening at your touch. "So then we can definitely stay for one more."
He groaned, allowing you to take control. He sat up, kneeling on the moss and rounding you. On normal days, you would lie on your back, but this morning, you turned your back to him, dropping down onto your hands and knees, arching your spine invitingly.
Neteyam let out a low, guttural growl, his large hands clamping onto your hips. You looked back over your shoulder, catching sight of his chest heaving, his golden eyes blown wide and wild, looking exactly like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. The romance of the previous night was entirely gone, replaced by a wild, frantic, and primal morning coupling that left you both shivering.
By the time you both got ready and mounted your ikrans, it was already midday. You flew back toward Hometree, racing each other through the canopy and laughing like idiots, but the moment you neared the high roost, the laughter died in your throat.
Standing right at the edge of the ledge, arms crossed tightly over his chest, was Sak'nur.
You weren't necessarily scared of being found out, but the timing couldn't have been worse. The moment your ikran’s feet touched the branches, you slid off, quickly stepping in front of your brother and pressing a firm hand against his chest to force him back.
Sak'nur looked absolutely murderous, his eyes locked entirely on Neteyam, who landed smoothly a second later and descended from his saddle with a calm, steady grace.
“Were you with my sister the entire night? She didn’t come home,” Sak’nur demanded, his voice a low, lethal growl.
“Sak’nur, stop,” you pleaded, shoving against his chest.
"I was," Neteyam answered simply, his golden eyes unblinking as he stepped forward.
"Motherfucker," Sak’nur hissed, pouncing forward. You threw your entire weight into your brother to hold him back, but he was far too strong. He overpowered you, shoving you aside to get to his target.
Neteyam’s eyes widened at the sight of you being pushed. "Fucker!" he hissed, all restraint vanishing as he launched himself at your brother.
The two of them collided heavily, grappling and tearing into each other, throwing raw, heavy punches that echoed through the trees. They were fighting like you had never seen them fight before. Two elite warriors tearing the ground apart out of sheer, blinding rage.
"Fuck you, asshole!" Sak’nur roared, catching Neteyam by the throat and slamming him against a mossy root. "Out of all the men here who would go behind my back and disrespect my sister, I didn’t think it would be you! You sneak around in the dark like a coward! Are you toying with her?!"
Neteyam threw a vicious elbow, breaking Sak’nur’s grip and forcing him back a step. His chest was heaving, his face smeared with dirt and sweat, but his eyes were blazing with absolute, unyielding conviction.
"I am not toying with her!" Neteyam shouted back, his voice tearing raw. "I have loved Y/N my entire life! I’ve never been with anyone else, not a single soul, because of her! I love her more than my own breath, Sak’nur! And I knew that if she ever showed me even just a single drop of love, not even our friendship would be enough to keep me away from her!"
Neteyam wiped a smear of blood from his lip, stepping right back into Sak’nur’s face.
"And she does. She loves me. So I can't stay away, and I won't. I intend to mate with her before Eywa. I intend to make her my wife!"
Sak’nur stared at him, his ears pinning back in a mix of fury and sheer, stunned disbelief. "Make her your wife?! You say you honor her, yet you disrespect her by sneaking her out into the jungle for only Eywa knows what?!"
"I am a grown woman, Sak’nur!" you screamed, your chest heaving as you glared fiercely at your brother. "It is not your business where I go, or who I choose to lay with!"
Sak’nur looked at you, his chest rising and falling heavily, the protective fury in his eyes still burning but slightly wavering under your fierce defense.
Neteyam stepped up right behind you, his large hand coming down to rest firmly on your shoulder, anchoring you to his side. He looked at your brother, the raw anger in his face softening into something deeply earnest, yet entirely uncompromising.
"Sak'nur, look at me," Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a steady, intense rhythm. "What Y/N and I have... it is entirely separate from the brotherhood between us. You are my best friend. You are my brother in arms. But your sister and I... We love each other. I love her with everything I am, and nothing is going to change that. Not even you."
Your brother grappled with him again, they punched and tore into each other like wild animals. It was a brutal, bloody spectacle, but to your absolute, utter confusion, the raw violence slowly devolved into heavy panting, and then... a sharp burst of laughter.
You stood there, your jaw practically dropping as you watched them lie on the ground, bloody-faced and bruising, laughing like two boys who had just finished a friendly sparring match.
"Brother," Neteyam began, wiping a smear of blood from his lip as he sat up. "I do not mean to go behind your back... but like I said, what I have with Y/N is ours alone. No one knew about it until now. We were keeping it low... but I won’t apologize for loving her."
Sak'nur shook his head, a lingering, humored smirk on his face as he accepted Neteyam’s hand to pull himself up. "I don’t expect you to apologize," your brother said, wiping his own nose. "But I still expect you to be a better man. You will court my sister properly now... and the mating will be in a year."
"A year?!" you and Neteyam echoed in unison, your voices cracking.
Sak'nur scoffed, a teasing glint in his eye. "What, not man enough?"
"Fuck you," Neteyam replied smoothly, standing to his full height and casting a wicked, incredibly cocky wink in your direction. "All right. I will do all of that. I wanted to court her openly anyway. I want everybody in this jungle to know exactly who I belong to."
Your brother scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Please. I’m still her brother, and I’m still your best friend. If you don’t want me to kick you in the gut, you'll stop the sweet talk."
Neteyam rolled his eyes, offering him a playful shove. "Whatever."
The three of you walked back down the winding pathways toward your family’s kelku. Every single person you passed stared in utter bewilderment at the two elite, bloody warriors limping and holding their bruised sides. They had beaten each other to an absolute pulp, and it was honestly hilarious to witness.
Your father was standing just outside the entryway of the kelku when he spotted the procession.
"Y/N, where were you?!" he called out before his eyes landed on the two battered men. "Great Mother... what happened to you two?"
Sak'nur merely jerked his head toward Neteyam, a smug grin splitting his bruised face. "This asshole is going to court my sister."
Your father stopped. He looked at you, then at Neteyam's heavily bruised but triumphant face, and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, well. Finally."
"Finally?" Sak'nur echoed, thoroughly confused.
"Son, you are completely blind," your father muttered, throwing a heavy hand over Sak'nur's shoulder and leading him inside the kelku to get treated.
Left alone on the path, you walked up to Neteyam, entirely uncaring of the remaining eyes watching from the clearing. "Oh, baby..." you murmured softly, your fingers gently rising to touch the massive, purpling bruise forming on his sharp cheekbone. He winced slightly at the contact. "Let’s deal with that inside."
"Hmm," Neteyam hummed, a lazy, victorious rumble vibrating in his chest. His large hand snaked around your waist, pulling you tightly against his side before he lowered his head, pressing his lips to yours in a hard, deeply public kiss.
If there had been any remaining questions in the village as to why the future chief and your brother had just beaten each other to a pulp... they definitely had their answer now.
Neteyam always finds a way to fuck you and his dad is tired of it.
WC. 2.6
The training grounds were quiet except for the rhythmic slap of arrows hitting targets and Jake’s low commands.
“Again. Higher draw this time. Focus on the follow through.”
Neteyam had been right beside him a moment ago—tall, steady, bow drawn, also tending to younger kids in training.
Then he wasn’t.
Jake lowered his own bow, ears twitching.
“Neteyam?”
No answer.
He scanned the clearing, the treeline, the narrow paths leading back toward the village.
Nothing.
A faint prickle of unease crawled up his spine.
His eldest didn’t just disappear in the middle of drills.
Not when they were teaching the kids how to properly use a bow.
Not without a word.
Jake handed his bow to one of the younger warriors.
“Finish the set. I’ll be back.”
He moved fast, following the most likely trail—toward the secluded river bend where the foliage grew thick and the sound of water drowned out voices.
It was a place couples sometimes slipped away to.
A place Jake himself had once favored with Neytiri when they were younger.
The closer he got, the more certain he became.
Low moans drifted through the leaves.
Breathless, needy.
Familiar.
Jake’s jaw tightened.
He pushed aside the last curtain of vines and froze.
There, pressed against the smooth trunk of a young pa’liwll tree, was his son—tail lashing, ears pinned back in pleasure, strong hands gripping hips that definitely weren’t his own.
You were arched against him, legs wrapped high around his waist, head thrown back as Neteyam drove into you with slow, deep rolls that made your whole body shudder.
Your nails raked down his back, leaving fresh red lines across blue skin.
His face was buried in your neck, growling soft praises against your throat.
“Fuck—ma’yawntutsyìp… so tight… always so perfect for me…”
Jake’s tail lashed once, hard.
“Neteyam.”
The word cracked like a whip.
Neteyam’s hips stuttered.
His head snapped up, eyes wide with instant mortification.
You gasped, trying to hide your face against his shoulder, but it was far too late.
“Dad—”
Jake’s voice was ice. “Get dressed. Now.”
Neteyam pulls out quick, a wet sound that makes you flush hotter, scrambling for your discarded tevdong.
Neteyam carefully lowered you to your feet, keeping his body between you and his father as you both scrambled to cover yourselves.
His ears were flat against his skull, tail tucked tight.
Shame and guilt rolled off him in waves.
Jake didn’t yell. He didn’t need to. The silence was worse.
“Back to the house,” he said quietly. “ both of you, now, help your mother with chores “
For the next few weeks, Jake watched.
He hadn’t realized how often it happened.
Every time he turned around, Neteyam was touching you—subtle at first: a hand low on your back, fingers brushing your thigh when he thought no one was looking.
Then less subtle.
He’d pull you behind a tree during patrol breaks.
He’d disappear with you for “quick hunts” that lasted far too long.
Once Jake caught him pressing you against the wall of the family kelku when he thought everyone was asleep, your legs hooked over his forearms, both of you trying—and failing—to stay quiet.
Jake wasn’t blind.
He knew you were mated.
He’d approved the bond years ago when you both were just teens.
He just hadn’t realized his son was this… insatiable.
Eventually he’d had enough.
One evening after dinner, when the rest of the family had scattered, Jake caught Neteyam by the arm before he could follow you outside.
“Sit,” Jake said, pointing to the woven mat.
Neteyam obeyed instantly, ears low, eyes fixed on the floor.
Jake sat across from him, elbows on his knees, studying his firstborn like he was a battlefield map.
“You’re distracted,” Jake started. “All the time. You’re missing shots you used to hit blindfolded. You’re late to drills. You’re disappearing mid sentence. And I know why.”
Neteyam’s tail curled around his ankle. He didn’t speak.
Jake exhaled through his nose.
“I get it. You’re young. You’re mated. Bonding is intense. But this—” he gestured vaguely toward the direction you’d gone “—this isn’t healthy. You can’t spend every free second buried between her legs. You’ve got responsibilities. People look to you. You’re supposed to be setting an example.”
Neteyam’s ears flicked.
He swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s… not just me.”
Jake blinked. “What?”
Neteyam risked a glance up, cheeks flushed dark. “She wants it just as much. Sometimes more. I—I try to be careful, but she… she asks. She pulls me away. She says she needs me. And I—” He ducked his head again, mortified. “I can’t say no to her. I don’t want to.”
Jake stared.
For a long moment the only sound was the crackle of the small fire.
Then Jake rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low, tired laugh that had no humor in it.
“Oh.”
Neteyam peeked up, uncertain.
Jake shook his head slowly. “You’re both as bad as each other.”
“I’m sorry,” Neteyam mumbled. “I’ll… try harder. To focus.”
Jake studied him—really studied him.
The way his shoulders were hunched, the way his tail still hadn’t uncurled from his leg.
He looked like a kid caught stealing fruit, not a grown warrior.
Jake sighed. “Look. I’m not saying you can’t touch your mate. Eywa knows your mother and I weren’t exactly saints when we were your age. But balance, Neteyam. You need balance. If you let this consume you, it’ll eat everything else—your training, your siblings, your place here. And hers too.”
Neteyam nodded quickly. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Jake leaned forward. “Because I’m not asking you to stop. I’m asking you to be smarter about it. Lock the damn door. Pick times when the whole clan isn’t waiting on you. And maybe—maybe—take a breath once in a while and remember there’s more to being mated than how many times you can knot in a day.”
Neteyam’s ears burned. He nodded again, faster this time.
Jake stood, brushing off his thighs. “And next time you disappear mid training? You tell me first. I’m not hunting you down again just to find you balls deep in your mate against a tree.”
Neteyam groaned, covering his face with both hands. “Dad—”
Jake smirked despite himself. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
He walked toward the entrance, pausing just before stepping out.
“One more thing.”
Neteyam looked up, wary.
“Treat her right,” Jake said quietly. “Always. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when you’re exhausted. Even when the clan’s watching. She’s your mate. Not just your release.”
Neteyam’s expression softened instantly. “I know. I swear.”
Jake gave a single nod.
Then he was gone, leaving Neteyam sitting there—still flushed, still guilty, but a little less alone in it.
Outside, you were waiting near the fire, arms crossed, trying not to look as anxious as you felt.
Jake paused beside you.
You glanced up.
He raised a brow. “You two done trying to kill me with heart attacks?”
You bit your lip, cheeks darkening. “Sorry, sir.”
Jake snorted. “Don’t ‘sir’ me… I’m hoping for grandchildren. So it’s dad ”
You ducked your head, smiling despite yourself. “Yes, sir.”
He shook his head and kept walking.
Behind him, Neteyam appeared in the doorway, eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
Jake sighed to himself.
Kids.
The days blurred into weeks as Neteyam took his father’s words to heart.
Balance.
He repeated it like a mantra, every time his gaze lingered too long on the curve of your hips, or the way your tail swayed when you walked ahead of him on patrols.
He loved you—Eywa, he loved you more than breath—but he’d let that love turn into a constant hunger, one that drowned out everything else.
No more.
He’d prove to himself, to Jake, to you, that he could be more than just the warrior who couldn’t keep his hands off his mate.
At first, it was small things.
He’d pull away from stolen kisses before they deepened, murmuring excuses about duties or hunts.
You noticed, of course—your ears would flick in confusion, your eyes searching his with a silent question.
But you didn’t push.
Instead, you leaned into the change, and soon the spaces between you filled with something softer, deeper.
Dates became their own kind of ritual.
He’d wake you before dawn, fingers brushing your cheek as he whispered, “Come fly with me.”
You’d ride together on his ikran, the wind whipping through your hair as you soared over the floating mountains, chasing bioluminescent clouds that painted the sky in streaks of purple and blue.
He’d land on hidden ledges, places only the Omatikaya knew, and you’d share meals of fresh hexapede skewers and sweet yovo fruit, talking for hours about nothing and everything—the stars, the old stories from Jake’s Earth, the dreams you both had for the clan’s future.
One afternoon, he led you deep into the Hallelujah Mountains, where the air grew thin and the vines twisted like living ropes around ancient stone spires.
You explored forgotten caves glowing with atokirina’ seeds, their soft light dancing across your skin as you laughed and chased each other through narrow passages.
He showed you a hidden waterfall, its waters crystal clear and warm from underground springs, and you swam together, clothes discarded on the rocks but touches kept innocent—fingers tracing patterns on wet skin, foreheads pressed together in quiet contentment.
Nights were spent under the canopy, weaving new songcords or just lying tangled in each other’s arms, tails entwined, sharing stories until sleep claimed you.
No rushing. No desperate pulls toward release. Just you and him, rediscovering the quiet joy of simply being mates.
But Eywa, it was torture.
Neteyam felt it building like a storm—every brush of your hand, every shared glance, every time your scent wrapped around him in the wind.
His body ached, a constant low hum of need that he pushed down with gritted teeth and focused breaths.
He’d wake hard and wanting, your body curled against his, and force himself to slip away for cold swims in the river.
He was a warrior; he could endure this. For you. For balance.
Until he couldn’t.
It happened on one of those mountain explorations, high up where the air hummed with the distant calls of ikran and the world below looked like a distant dream.
You’d found a secluded alcove, a natural balcony overlooking the vast expanse of Pandora’s wilderness, the sun dipping low and casting everything in golden fire.
You were leaning against a rock, hair tousled from the flight, smiling at him with that look that always made his heart stutter.
He tried to ignore it.
Tried to focus on the view, on the way the light played across the floating islands. But then you stretched, arching your back just so, and something inside him snapped.
“Ma’yawntu,” he breathed, voice rough, stepping closer. His tail lashed behind him, ears pinned flat. “I… I can’t. Not anymore.”
You tilted your head, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Can’t what?”
He dropped to his knees before you, hands trembling as they gripped your thighs. His golden eyes locked onto yours, pleading, desperate. “Please. I need you. I’ve tried—Eywa knows I’ve tried to hold back, to be better, but I’m dying without you. Let me taste you. Let me have you. Please.”
Your breath hitched, cheeks flushing as understanding dawned.
You’d felt the absence too, the way his restraint had left you aching in quiet moments, but you’d respected his choice.
Now, seeing him like this—Neteyam, proud and strong, on his knees begging—stirred something fierce in you.
You nodded, fingers threading into his braids. “Yes, please.”
He didn’t hesitate.
Neteyam kneels slow in front of you, hands gliding up your legs—palms rough from bows and hunts, but he keeps the pressure light. Thumbs drag along your inner thighs, back and forth, till your skin prickles. You shift your weight, tail flicking nervous. He glances up, checking. "This okay?" You nod, fingers flexing at your sides. "Yeah. Missed your hands."
He tugs at your tewng ties next, fingers working one knot loose, then fumbling the second—curses quiet in Na'vi. You reach down to help, brushing his knuckles. He huffs a small laugh. "Got it now." Fabric slips free, pooling at your ankles. Cool air hits your bare skin; you suck in a breath, thighs pressing together on instinct. His hands part them gentle, holding steady till you relax.
Eyes stay on yours, gold and focused like he's reading every twitch. Leans closer, nose brushing your folds soft at first—no rush.
His tongue darts out, tip tracing your outer lips light, tasting slick.
You whimper low, hips jerking forward a bit. "Steady," he murmurs against you, voice muffled, one hand splaying flat on your thigh to anchor.
Licks again, flatter this time, dragging up slow to your clit.
Circles it lazy with the tip—soft flicks that make your knees dip. You grab his braid, tugging accidental-hard; he groans into you, vibration buzzing straight through. "Sorry—feels..." He pulls back an inch, lips shiny.
"Good? Tell me if too much." You shake your head fast. "More. Please." Tongue presses firmer now, alternating slow laps with quick flutters over your clit, building that ache steady.
Thumbs spread you open wider; he dips inside shallow, tongue curling once before sucking your clit gentle between his lips.
Your tits shake with each pant, nipples tightening in the breeze.
His fingers slide up—one presses at your entrance, waiting.
You rock into it; he pushes in slow, knuckle by knuckle, curling to rub your spot inside he knows a little too well. Adds a second, thrusting lazy while his mouth keeps rhythm on your clit.
"Neteyam—fuck," you gasp, head tipping back against the rock. Thighs quake around his shoulders. He hums approval, free hand kneading your ass cheek soft.
Pumping fingers speed up just a touch; your walls clench tight, pulsing as orgasm hits—sharp waves that make your hips buck uneven. He works you through it, licks turning soft till you're slumped, pulling his hand free with a wet slide.
Rises awkward, knees popping from the stone—he winces, mutters "I’m gettin old " under breath.
You laugh breathy, yanking at his tewng. "Your turn." Ties stick wet from earlier rain; you both tug till it drops, his cock bobbing heavy, tip leaking.
You wrap your hand around him loose—stroking base to head, thumb over the slit. He hisses, grabbing your wrist light. "Easy. Wanna last."
Lifts you next, arms hooking under your thighs—presses your back to the wall gentle, legs around his waist.
His cock nudges your entrance, sliding through slick a few times. "Ready?" You nod, kissing his jaw sloppy.
"Slow," you murmur against his lips, legs tightening around his waist.
Neteyam nods quick, eyes locked on yours—gold steady, checking like always.
He pushes in inch by inch, thick head stretching your entrance wide. Walls grip him tight, fluttering at the fullness. You both groan low, breaths mixing hot. He bottoms out, holding still—forehead pressed to yours, noses bumping clumsy.
Lets you adjust first, hips twitching once involuntary.
Your ass settles firmer against him, tits brushing his chest with each shared pant.
"Big," you whisper, half-laugh.
He huffs soft, hand stroking your thigh.
He rocks shallow after—pulls out halfway, sinks back deliberate and smooth.
Your ass shakes light against the wall each time; your tits bounce into him, nipples dragging his skin.
His thumb finds one peak absent, rolling it slow while he angles his hips deeper—cock nudges that spot inside.
"Love this," he says low, voice cracking on "this."
He picks up pace controlled, thrusts snapping firmer—cock dragging your walls long, balls tapping your ass wet.
Fingers slip down to your clit, rubbing tight circles that make your thighs quake.
Head lolls back against his palm; mouth falls open on a silent moan, tits jiggling heavier with the force.
"Neteyam—fuck, right there." Cuts off your whine with a kiss, tongue sliding messy—pulls back gasping. "Shhh, dad will be mad if he hears"
Tension winds tight in your gut; you dig nails deeper into his shoulders.
Your pussy pulses around his cock, slick dripping down your thighs.
He grinds extra deep once, rhythm hitching when his tail tangles behind him.
Orgasms shatter you both—thighs clamping his waist tight, pussy fluttering wild, squeezing his cock in waves.
Tits heave with each spasm; ass grinds back desperate.
He follows seconds later, cock swelling thick—spills hot ropes inside with a choked grunt against your neck, thrusts jerking uneven till he's pumping empty.
He stays buried deep a long time, kissing your collarbone soft, breaths ragged syncing up.
He lowers you wobbly to the moss—knees buckle a bit; he catches your elbow steady.
Pulls out slow, wet slide; his cum drips thick down your inner thigh.
Grabs his tewng scrap nearby, wipes you gentle—awkward fumble when it sticks to his fingers first.
"Messy," he mutters, chuckling low.
I had a dream about Neteyam so I’m back in my avatar phase!🤭
pairing aged-up!neteyam x avatar driver-scientist!reader
notes reader is a human avatar driver, captive romance, reverse stockholm syndrome 😭, grumpy neteyam, reader is that captive who is sooo talkative she makes her captors want to free her, smut (p in v, interspecies), oral (f&m receiving)
word count 26.8k
synopsis a botanical expedition with your fellow scientists was supposed to be nothing short of a fun field trip, except that it turned into something entirely unexpected. now, you find yourself held ‘captive’ by the omatikaya. granted, it’s not exactly a brutal imprisonment if you’re enjoying every single minute of it. the only problem is that your enjoyment has become the absolute bane of someone else’s existence—the incredibly grumpy eldest son of toruk makto.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The helicopter’s rotors beat a deafening pulse as it lowers itself down the thick rainforest canopy. You couldn’t believe your eyes, even though this wasn’t your first outing. From the point of view of a scholar who had spent her entire academic life studying everything about this world, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you were actually here, studying it firsthand.
As soon as the helicopter touched down with a heavy thud, the two recombinant soldiers you were with jumped out to check the parameters. You unbuckled your harness, stepping out onto the damp, glowing soil and smelling the sweet air but rolling your eyes immediately when your avatar’s heightened sense caught the strong smell of gas from the helicopter behind you. Its rotors were just slowing to a deep thrum that finally allowed you to hear your own voice.
“Look at this,” you looked down at where your boots were sinking slightly into a carpet of bioluminescent moss. “They don’t want to believe Dr. Grace Augustine’s study on how this glowing moss is hardwired to a planet-wide neural network, but that was definitely real.”
Marco unbuckled his harness shortly after, following your lead and stepping out right behind you. “Y/N, please. Let's not start the ’Grace Augustine was an unappreciated prophet’ monologue again,” he groaned, scanning the immediate perimeter nervously. “Her data on the electrochemical transduction between the roots was purely theoretical. The RDA board members back at Bridgehead call it ’tree-hugger mysticism’ for a reason. There’s no hard evidence of a literal collective consciousness.”
“That’s because the RDA board members have the intellectual capacity of a wet sponge, Marco,” you snapped back playfully, already dropping to your knees in the dirt. You dug a trowel into a patch of violet ferns, unbothered by the dampness seeping into your avatar's uniform. “They want everything to be quantifiable in tons of unobtanium. They can't handle the fact that the grass beneath their boots has a higher IQ than their entire legal department.”
Dr. Danel stepped out of the helicopter last, looking down at you with a fond, albeit tired smile. “Now, Y/N, science requires skepticism. Dr. Augustine was brilliant, but mapping a planet-wide neural network through a handful of localized root samples is a massive statistical leap.”
“Oh, come on, Doc!” You looked up, a massive grin breaking across your blue face as your tail flicked with pure excitement. “Look at the signal delay when I do this.”
You tapped the handle of your trowel sharply against a thick, exposed root of a nearby tree. Instantly, a wave of faint cyan light pulsed through the moss, rippling outward into the dark underbelly of the forest like a fallen domino.
“See that?” you pointed, leaning in so close your nose almost touched the dirt. “That is not a localized reflex. That is a synapse firing! If Earth’s neurologists weren't so incredibly arrogant, if they just believed in something beyond what can be explained by their rigid Earth science, they could easily get a PhD in neurology just by studying the damn grass here!”
Marco snorted, shaking his head as he maneuvered his datapad. “Sure. A course about advanced synaptic botany, taught by a blade of grass, would be so loved by Ivy Leaguers.”
You rolled your eyes. “Who cares about what they love? We’re on Pandora!” you said. “And I'm serious!” you insisted, scooping a pristine sample of the glowing soil into a sterile jar. “Back on Earth, human neurologists spend decades slicing up organic brains, trying to figure out how a hundred billion neurons create a thought. Meanwhile, out here, Pandora just grew a giant, macroscopic brain and let us walk around inside it. You don't need a scalpel to study this mind, Marco. You just need an open mind.”
Dr. Danel chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “It’s a beautiful hypothesis, Y/N. But until we can map the exact neurotransmitter equivalents traveling through those roots, the military heads at Bridgehead are going to keep treating this world like a parking lot waiting to happen.”
“Then they're fools,” you muttered, sealing the jar as you looked at the back of a recombinant soldier. “Because you don't fight a brain this big. It’s going to outsmart them just as it did in the First Pandoran War with Jake Sully.”
Before Marco could counter your argument with another dry, skeptical remark, all of you grew silent as one of the recoms threw a fist in the air. Dr. Danel looked at them with a deeply worried frown. “Keep your weapons low, Corporal. We are here strictly for ecological sampling. If we trigger a political incident with the Omatikaya, the General will have our heads.”
“Relax, Doc,” the soldier smirked. “We’re just keeping our eyes peeled for the blues.”
Your head snapped to the side, your large, sensitive ears twitching violently backward, catching the unmistakeable sound of footsteps against the moss. The recom near a foliage clutched his heavy assault rifle and pointed it into a void before shooting in the air.
“Stop! What are you doing!” Dr. Danel shouted over the gunfire.
You heard another sound, sharp and cutting, and the next rhing you saw was a massive arrow tearing through the air, embedding itself directly into the chest of the soldier who fired the shots. He didn't even have time to scream before the sheer force threw his massive body backward into the dirt.
“Ambush!” The other recom roared, instantly raising his rifle and blind-firing into the dense thicket. The thunderous crack of gunfire shattered the peaceful morning.
“Get back in the chopper! Now!” Dr. Danel screamed, struggling to reach out from the open bay door, his blue hands outstretched toward you. “Y/N! Marco!”
Everything dissolved into a chaotic blur and from the branches above, massive shadows dropped with a swift, terrifying grace. You saw a massive Na'vi warrior collided with the uninjured recom, sending both of them crashing into the underbrush.
“Y/N!” Marco shrieked. He tried to jump out of the rising chopper to grab your arm, but he was hauled back when the pilot panicked and pulling the chopper upward to escape the hail of arrows. “No! Y/N!”
You scrambled backward on your hands and knees, your specimen jar shattering against a root. Before your brain could even choose between flight-or-fight, a massive, muscular arm strongly wrapped around your waist. You let out a high-pitched shriek as your body was effortlessly hauled up in the air, your feet kicking.
“Stop moving!” A harsh voice barked in your ear.
You blinked through your panic, looking around the clearing. The second soldier was dead, but the other was severely wounded on the ground, surrounded by three Na'vi warriors who had his arms pinned. And holding your by the arm now was a fiercely built Na'vi with striking golden eyes, a stern jawline, and a beautifully crafted bow slung over his shoulder.
“Okay, first of all, ouch!” you gasped, wiggling your arm against his iron grip. “Second of all, we were literally just collecting dirt! Do you see this? It's a trowel! It’s for digging, not for conquering! We are peaceful academics!”
The man narrowed his eyes at you before his head jerked to the nearest man. “Bind her. And secure the recom. We take them to my father.”
You understood that Na’vi and you panicked. “Bind me?! No need! I will go peacefully. I mean, my companions are gone and I might not survive alone here, honestly speaking,” you rambled. “Tell me, which people are you? See, I know a few clan names, just from what I’ve read, but the most famous one was the Omatikaya. Jake Sully’s clan. Oh, Jake Sully, my fellow. You know him? And Norm Spellman? I know them both. Parasocially, of course—”
The man yanked your arm, forcing you into a march. “Keep moving.”
“Ouch! Be careful with me!” you said, only to shriek again when you were hauled up by your waist and flopped down on the back of a huge direhorse. “Wow, you are so nice!”
The man mounted behind you, his hand gathering your hands so fast you haven’t even able to get a word out and your hands were bounded. You turned your head to look at the man with a glare.
“Oh, this was unnecessary!” you complained.
You felt his large hand on your head, forcing it to turn back to the path and you groaned in annoyance. The march back to the Omatikaya stronghold was an absolute nightmare, but mostly for Neteyam. Not you. For a captive who had just survived a lethal ambush, you possessed a completely infuriating trust and hope for your captors. Your legs were swinging on the direhorse as if it were just an ordinary ride and he had never met someone so talkative.
Once, during the ride, you leaned back toward his body and produced a very inappropriate sound. He suddenly regretted knowing your tongue, because it was torture. You even managed to speak in minimal Na’vi to make sure you were including his warriors to your pep talks.
“You know, you have an impressive wall of muscle. The muscular structure of your quadriceps is fascinating,” you chatted amiably, touching his thigh with your pointing finger and removing it before he could even swat your hand away. “You have a distinct body structure from the other dudes in general. Jesus, what are they feeding you? I bet you’re their strongest warrior. Like Achilles to the Greeks or something. And that stunt in the tree you did? Oh, my femurs would literally turn into chalk. Crack. Just dust.” You nodded at him. “By the way, my name is Y/N. What’s yours? You look like a... Nathan. Do you have a Na'vi equivalent for Nathan?”
He didn’t answer and he hated how curious he was. What’s a Nathan? He’d have to ask Jake about that.
“And you!” You pointed to another warriors. “Wow, the braids. Did you do those yourself or is there a designated hair-stylist in your clan? Because the symmetry is immaculate. Truly. I tried to braid my avatar’s hair three days ago and I looked like an electrocuted direhorse.”
Neteyam kicked his direhorse to a halt, stopping it dead in its tracks. The entire column of warriors halted behind him. You turned to him curiously.
“Uhm, why did we stop? Are we finally here—”
“You do not stop speaking,” Neteyam hissed, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You are a prisoner of war. You should be weeping. You should be praying to your false gods.”
Your jaw dropped. He is speaking your tongue, and his voice is sexy. “Oh, you have a sexy English voice. Did you know that? Just deep and gravelly, so hot,” you flashed him a smile. “And honestly, crying burns calories, and I’m already hungry so—”
With a swift, fed-up motion, Neteyam snatched a thick strip of a woven strip from his satchel. Before you could move, his massive hand put the strip into your mouth, tying it securely behind your head.
“Mmph?!” you protested, your eyes widening.
“If you make another sound, I will tie you to my direhorse backwards,” Neteyam warned, his face inches from yours.
Oh, you are lucky to be so handsome right now, you groaned. You’d claw his face if you could! You rolled your eyes, giving a muffled, sassy huff through your nose, and sat properly.
“There,” he said in a low voice near your ear, sending a weird electricity throughout your body.
You felt a weird tingling between your thighs and looked down as if you could see the biological mechanisms of what’s happening in your avatar body. Your eyes narrowed and your jaw dropped. Oh, absolutely. You didn’t know that an avatar body could feel turned on, too, and that it has mechanisms at all for that. You wondered if it works just like a human body.
When the hunting party finally broke through the dense foliage, you were treated to a view of a massive tree. A hometree. “Whoa... This is your home?” you uttered in a muffled voice.
“What? Can’t understand you,” the man behind you said, and when you turned to him, you saw a satisfied smirk on his face.
You groaned, but the shift in the atmosphere already got your attention. The Hometree was massive, it was insane, and in front of its hollowed out entrance stood a large man whose physique differs from those around him. Your gasp was muffled, but you realized that tha was Jake Sully. Looking every bit the legendary, battle-hardened resistance leader he was painted to be in every news you’ve watched about him.
The man behind you dismounted, lifting you off the direhorse in a swift move just as the other warriors were shoving the wounded Recombinant to the ground.
“Sir. We found them near the eastern borders, accompanied by a Samson. One is dead, the others escaped, and we brought this one alive.”
Jake's eyes immediately locked onto the wounded Recombinant before looking at another warrioe. “Get him treated, we need him alive. He’s an asset.”
You, however, were completely ignoring the political drama. Your eyes had landed squarely on Norm Spellman. Your muffled “Mmmph!” becoming incredibly loud.
Norm, noticing your eyes on him, blinked. “Uh, Neteyam. What's up with that one?”
Neteyam sighed heavily. “She has a sickness of the mouth. She does not stop.” With an irritated jerk of his hand, Neteyam reached out and untied your gag.
The moment the leather cleared your lips, you took a deep breath and gasped, “Norm? Norm Spellman?”
Norm froze. “Uh... yeah?”
From the shadows of a nearby rock, you heard someone saying, “A Norm fan? Wow. That's a first for Pandora.” And when you whipped your heard, you saw a grown white man wearing only a loincloth.
You ignored him and looked back at Norm again. “I’ve read every single one of your published papers on the exoflora of the Western Frontier!” you blurted out, your tail swishing with genuine euphoria. “Your study on how Pandoran trees use electrical pulses to communicate with each other was foundational to my entire master's thesis! I can't believe it! You're a legend!”
Norm’s chest instantly puffed out. He looked over at Jake with a smug, self-satisfied grin. “Oh, a small thing. Wait, are you working for the RDA?”
“Not really working working for them, but I’m a scholar. I only really care about the flora and fauna, nothing else,“ you replied.
Norm shared a meaningful look with Jake who shifted his gaze to you. Before he could even speak, you jumped right at it again.
“And you! You’re like... the ultimate legendary villain back on Earth. They literally have a three-hour documentary about how you single-handedly ruined humanity’s chance for a brand new life in a brand new world. I am so incredibly honored to meet you,” you offered him your bounded hands.
He looked down at it, his hand politely holding your jutting out fingers and shaking it lightly before letting go.
“But honestly, I understand you. Humanity doesn’t really mean humanity, anyway, right? They won’t be transferring everyone. At least not the billions of humans on Earth. Only those who have billions. So, seriously, the battle of the Hallelujah Mountains? Masterclass.”
Jake was utterly dumbfounded. He looked at Neteyam, then back to you, completely unsure of how to process everything you’re saying. Neteyam placed a hand over his face, shaking his head.
“I apologize, Dad. I should have left her in the woods. I will put her in the upper cells.” The man beside you said, and your jaw dropped.
“Dad?!” you echoed, your head snapping to the man and looking at Jake. “You are Jake Sully’s son? No way! That’s why you’re built different, huh—”
“Get that man to the underground cells,” Neteyam’s deep voice cut your rambling off, and you saw the warriors drag the Recom by his shirt. “And you, if you don’t shut up, I will put you underground, too.”
“Is that a euphemism for burying alive? If so, then no, you don’t need to do that! I will shut up, now,” you nodded at him with a serious look on your face.
“Good,” he replied, his large hand wrapping at your forearm and started dragging you into the Hometree.
The hollowed-out trunk spans upwards and an intricate winding ramp was so beautiful, you couldn't wrap your head around the fact that it was definitely made by hands. The upper cells were situated three levels up and your cell was a naturally hollowed-out alcove with thick, curling wooden bars to close off the entrance.
Neteyam removed your bindings, his eyes narrowed as he watched you with deep suspicion, gently pushing you inside. To you, it didn't look like a jail cell. It looked like something out of a fairytale. There was even a window-like hole to let in air which also allows you to look at the surrounding verdant bush outside.
“This is gorgeous,” you muttered, running your fingers along the smooth, glowing moss on the root wall. “It’s like living inside a luxury treehouse. It reminds me of those storybook rabbits!”
You turned to him when you heard the door close. You put a hand on your hip, watching him secure it by a heavy leather latch on the outside. Your eyes narrowed.
“No need for that though, even if I wanted to run away, I wouldn’t have known how to go back to Bridgehead.” you said, sitting on the woven hammock, removing your boots.
He stood outside the bars, watching you do a yoga easy sit on the hammock.
“Neteyam, right?” you asked, putting your palms together. His eyes dropped to your hands, his forehead creasing. “Quick question. The Recombinant soldier. Is he going to live? Because from a scholarly standpoint, seeing how his synthetic Na’vi biology handles physical trauma under stress is a once-in-a-lifetime research opportunity for me—”
You were cut off when he simply turned on his heel and walked away into the shadows of the upper tunnels. Your lips parted, pointing a finger to where he disappeared. You stood up, walking to the bars.
“Wow! The nerve of this man!” you yelled after him, throwing your hands up. “A simple ‘I don't know,’ would have sufficed! Oh, you rude, rude man! Super rude!”
You turned around, letting out an annoyed sigh, and banged a closed fist against the wooden bars. The sounds of footsteps nearby reminded you that you weren't alone, though, because standing a few paces away were two young warriors assigned to guard duty. They were gripping their spears tightly, looking all fierce and imposing.
You smirked. Target acquired.
“Hey guys,” you said in Na’vi, sliding down the bars until you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at them through the gaps. “So, since you’re going to be my best friends for the foreseeable future, we might as well chat. I’m Y/N. What are your names?”
The guards exchanged a tense glance. The taller one muttered something in rapid Na'vi to his companion.
“Oh, I caught that! You don’t need to be afraid. Surely, they won’t punish you for talking? Unless the Olo’eyktan of Frown Town called Neteyam will get mad about that,” you said. Your accent was a little clunky, but your vocabulary was shockingly vast. “My grammar is bad, but I have a big heart. I’m going to tell you right here, right now that I do not like the RDA. They are... how do you say... greedy parasites who smell like burning gasoline?”
The shorter guard's mouth twitched. He quickly bit his lower lip to hide a smile.
“Seriously!” you pressed on, leaning your cheek against the wood. “I am a scholar! I do not support their violence and destruction of your world.”
A snort escaped the taller guard. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, but the dam had broken.
“You... speak our tongue,” the shorter one said, stepping a bit closer. “Though you sound like a seven-year-old who isn’t sure of her words.”
“I'm doing my best here,” you laughed, your tail flicking playfully behind you. “What's your name, short-and-judgmental?”
“I am Si’an,” he said, a reluctant grin breaking across his face. “And this is Aleto.”
You nodded. “Nice names. Does it mean anything?” you curiously asked and they moved closer to properly chat with you.
When it was time to sleep, you pulled the soft blanket Aleto had smuggled for you up to your chin. You closed your eyes, the bioluminescent glow of the walls fading into a flash of sterile, blinding white light. A harsh hiss echoed in your ears as the pressurized seal of the link pod broke, replacing the warm, rich air outside by the synthetic, recycled chill of Bridgehead’s tech-bay.
You coughed slightly as your throat adjusted to the atmosphere, holding onto something so you could sit up. There was a crowd of tech-assistants and scientists around you, at forefront being Dr. Danel and Marco, their faces pale. Behind them, standing like a dark cloud, was the military division head, General Ardmore's deputy, alongside a couple of armed security guards.
“Y/N! Shit! Oh, thank goodness,” Marco blurted out, helping you up. “We thought you were dead! The chopper pilot said the whole clearing was crawling with hostiles!”
“Where is your avatar?” Dr. Danel asked, his voice worried as he checked your vitals monitor. “Is the link stable? What happened?”
You swung your legs over the edge of the pod, looking around the crowded lab and taking a deep breath. You delivered the news with complete, deadpan gravity.
“I’m in jail.”
Their faces looked like a cluster of colorful balloons had just been violently popped. The entire room went dead silent.
“Jail?” Dr. Danel echoed, his jaw dropping. “The Na'vi have... a penal system?”
You shook your head. “No, no. It’s more of like a dungeon, honestly,” you lied, your eyes sliding over to the military official who was now pushing his way through the scientists.
The soldier leaned over your pod. “Where is Corporal Jeong? The Recom soldier who was taken with you.”
You immediately schooled your face into an expression of vacant, traumatized innocence. You shook your head slowly. “I don't know, sir. The moment the Na’vis dropped from the trees, everything went completely sideways. I was blindfolded almost immediately. I couldn't see a thing.”
“Did you catch on to who got you? Which clan? Where their base of operations is?” the commander pressed, his eyes narrowing
You glanced briefly at Dr. Danel before looking back at the officer, widening your eyes. “N-No. Like I said, I was blindfolded the entire time and the next thing I know, I’m at the bottom of a dark, wooden hole. I haven't seen a single tactical layout.”
The commander gave a tight, deeply unsatisfied nod. “If they bring you out for interrogation, or if you catch any geographical markers through the link, you notify us immediately. Understood? You are our eyes inside the enemy's perimeter.”
“Understood, sir,” you lied flawlessly.
The moment the military detail cleared out, Dr. Danel and Marco practically dragged you by your arms into the break room, giving you a bottle of water and a heated bowl of food.
“Alright, what’s really going on?” Marco hissed, handing you a cup of hot coffee now. “Was that true? You don’t know where you are?”
You took a slow sip of your coffee, keeping your mouth firmly shut. You had made a decision the moment Neteyam dragged you into that spectacular tree trunk. If the RDA found out you were sitting in the literal heart of the Pandoran resistance, they would turn your link pod into a military tracking beacon. They would use your eyes to map out a strike zone and to kill Jake Sully, once and for all.
You were a scientist of life, not an asset for a corporate war machine. Your sole purpose now was to earn the trust of the Omatikaya, to get them to open that wooden door so you could study the magnificent, interconnected mind of this world.
“It’s true,” you said quietly, looking Marco dead in the eye. “And if I know anything, I'm not telling the military a damn thing. I am here to continue my PhD. I am not a spy.”
Dr. Danel let out a long, heavy sigh, but to your surprise, a small, proud smile touched his lips. “Good. Keep it that way. If the General's office smells even a whiff, they will take over your life completely. Just like what they tried to do with Jake Sully.”
“Just be careful, Y/N,” Marco warned, though he looked relieved even as he rolled his eyes. “Wherever you are.”
Because of the immense pressure, you became incredibly strict with your schedule. You spent your human hours locked in the Bridgehead labs, meticulously analyzing the soil samples you had managed to bring back, utilizing the high-tech RDA equipment to catalog data before swiftly diving back into the link pod. You couldn't afford to waste time. Every hour your avatar slept was an hour you could be earning the trust of the Omatikaya.
The next morning, Si’an and Aleto were joined by another young hunter and by noon, you had taught them the universal, high-stakes psychological thriller known as Rock, Paper, Scissors.
“No, Aleto, listen,” you explained patiently, your face pressed against the gap in the wooden bars. “The stone smashes the scissors. The scissors cut the paper. The paper covers the stone. It is a cycle of inevitable destruction.”
“But why does paper defeat stone?” Tseru asked, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. “A stone can tear through a leaf easily.”
“It blankets the stone, Tseru! It smothers its power!” you argued dramatically, throwing your hands up. “Don’t question the ancient lore of Earth. Now, on three. Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!”
You thrust out a flat hand for paper. Aleto threw out two fingers for scissors. He let out a triumphant, booming warrior cry that echoed through the upper canopy of Hometree, thrusting his spear into the air. “I have cut your paper!”
“Ah, a worthy adversary,” you sighed, shaking your head. “You win this round. Now hand over that blue fruit you’re hiding behind your back.”
As Aleto happily passed the sweet treat through the bars, you felt a familiar cue at the back of your consciousness, the digital tether of the link gently pulling you back for a scheduled maintenance cycle.
“Alright, boys, the link is pulling me back for a bit,” you warned them, shifting back onto your woven hammock and pulling up a blanket to your chin. “Don't miss me too much. Practice your tactics.”
“We will guard your cell, Y/N,” Si'an promised solemnly, puffing out his chest.
You spent the rest of the day working in the lab, letting the military guards see you conscious in your human form to show them that there was indeed nothing you could do with your avatar confined in a dungeon somewhere none of you know. You keep up at this, living your double lives seamlessly.
By week two, your cell had ceased to be a prison. It had officially become the hottest social club at Hometree. Word of the many Terran games you were teaching your guards had spread through the adolescent hunter ranks like wildfire. One day, when you linked back into your avatar form, the cell was practically buzzing.
You opened your eyes not just to the usual thrre guards, but seven young warriors huddled outside your bars, arguing heatedly over their hand positions.
“No! Tseru is cheating! His hand was a stone, but then he changed it to paper when he saw my scissors!” Si'an shouted, his tail thrashing in high-stakes frustration.
“I did not! The stone simply unfolded due to the wind!” Tseru countered defensively.
You sat up on your hammock, stretching your long blue arms, a massive grin breaking across your face. “Well, well, well. Look at this. A regular tournament of champions.”
The warriors instantly turned to you, their faces lighting up. “Y/N! You are awake!” Aleto cheered, rushing to the bars. “Teach us another. The finger-game has caused three arguments and Tseru owes me his favorite hunting knife.”
“Alright, alright, settle down,” you laughed, sliding off the hammock and sitting cross-legged at the gate. “Since you guys like tactical competition, let me introduce you to a little thing called Charades.”
For the next two hours, the upper cells of Hometree became a theater of absolute, unadulterated chaos. You had fierce, deadly Omatikaya warriors, men who could take down a large Samson with a single arrow, frantically flailing their arms, hopping on one foot, and mimicking the movements of various forest creatures while the others screamed guesses at the top of their lungs.
“An ikran! No, a sturmbeest! Why are you shaking your hips like that, Aleto? Is it a sick direhorse?!”
“It is a viperwolf catching a bug!” Aleto yelled, exasperated, collapsing against the wooden bars while you wiped tears of laughter from your eyes.
“No, no, he was clearly a very dramatic prolemuris,” you corrected, leaning your head against the bars. “You guys are terrible at this. I love it.”
Si’an smiled warmly, handing you a beautifully carved wooden cup filled with sweet water. “The sky people must have a very strange world if this is how you spend your days. Do you not have forests to run through?”
Your smile softened, your tail giving a quiet, reflective twitch. “We used to, Si’an. Earth was a beautiful planet once. Green, vibrant, full of life. But humans... Well, humans thought a concrete jungle was better. We built too many metal boxes, burned too much black oil, and we choked Terran.”
And that’s what this world needed protection from. Humans don’t know when to stop.
The young warriors fell silent and you sighed, waving a dismissive hand, and telling them about reality television and explained the concept of a cat instead. You were completely unbothered by your captive status and was endlessly entertained by the warriors guarding your cell. They brought you the softest bedding, the sweetest fruits, and would literally sit in front of your cell to talk to you about Pandora and your life back on Earth.
Meanwhile, Neteyam has been having terrible days.
It started at the training grounds. He had been trying to instruct the younger hunters on aerial tracking maneuvers, only to find half of his squad huddled in a circle, giggling. When he demanded to know what was so amusing, one of them had blurted out, “Neteyam, did you know that on Terran, they have tiny glowing boxes where people pretend to be animals for currency?”
He had traced the source of this sudden intellectual corruption directly back to your cell.
Neteyam marched down pathways leading to the cells and as he rounded the corner, his lips parted. There were no less than eight warriors sitting in a semi-circle outside your bars. You were leading them in a clumsy, boisterous rendition of an unfamiliar song, conducting them with a piece of kindling wood.
“What is this gathering?”
The deep, gravelly, instantly recognizable voice cut through the warm atmosphere. The warriors froze. Slowly, every single head turned to find Neteyam standing a few paces away. You pressed your head against the bars, trying to see him. You saw him with his arms crossed over his broad, muscular chest and his golden eyes were flashing with thunderous fury.
You blinked, totally unbothered, and offered him a cheery wave. “Hi, Commander! Perfect timing. Grab a spot on the floor, Aleto is up next and—”
“Everyone, OUT!” Neteyam roared.
The warriors scattered like wood-sprites caught in a flash of lightning. Spears were grabbed, apologies were muttered, and within three seconds, the corridor was empty, leaving only Neteyam standing outside the bars, his chest heaving with irritation.
You blew a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, leaning against the bars with a heavy pout as you looked up at him. “Wow. You really know how to kill a vibe, Neteyam. We were right at the chorus.”
“You are a plague,” Neteyam hissed, stepping right in front of you, his golden eyes blazing down at you. “You are a captive of the Omatikaya, yet you have turned my warriors into simpletons. They speak of stupid games and stupid animals—”
“Oi, communication bridges the gap between warring factions!” you argued, crossing your arms. “Besides, your warriors were stressed. A little cultural exchange is good for moral support. You should try it sometime. You look like you haven't smiled since the turn of the century.”
“Stop,” he commanded. “You will stop distracting them. You will sit in the dark, and you will be quiet. You are an enemy.”
You stared at him, your playful demeanor vanishing, replaced by a sharp, stubborn glint in your eyes. “An enemy? I haven't done a single thing to hurt your people. But fine. If you want a dangerous, silent prisoner so badly... you got it.”
You crossed your arm and hissed like a kitten, showing him your fangs before you turned your back on him. His head reared back a little, watching you lie on your sleeping mat in the furthest corner of the cell, and went completely still. His forehead creased at how his chest fluttered, making him almost smile for whatever reason.
But he caught himself immediately, pushing against the wooden bars and walking away.
For two full days, you did not say a single word. But that was simply because you didn’t link back that much to yout avatar so you won’t have to suffer. When Ateyo brought you fresh fish and roasted fruits, you didn't even turn back. You remained curled in a tight ball, staring blankly at the root wall. You didn't eat. You didn't drink. In your avatar form of course, because as a human, you were eating good.
Because of this, the warriors were in a state of absolute crisis. They were so dramatic about it at the training grounds, you’d think they’d lost their grandmother, but when Neteyam tried to eavesdropped, it was just them talking about how you look so weak and how you’re probably suffering from the fact that you’re not eating and socializing.
“The poor girl is fading,” one of them sighed.
“Is there something we can do to put a stop to Neteyam’s cruelty toward her?”
Cruelty? Neteyam protested in his mind. When he told you to stop talking to his warriors days ago, he didn’t expect you would go on a hunger strike! Now, his warriors are turning against him in silent protest for his cruelty toward you. You could literally create your own army of warriors who would do your bidding for you, and that’s what’s clear to him.
He went to your cell by nightfall, seeing you still curled up to your mat. “Hey,” he called out, waiting for you to move but you didn’t. His eyes narrowed, unfastening the lock.
He went inside, walking toward your mat and putting a hand over your arm to nudge you. Your dead weight surprised him, your body getting carried by his nudge. His heart fell to his stomach, his eyes widening a little as he gently shook you.
“Hey,“ he nudged but to no avail. “Fuck.” he whispered, squeezing your arm.
You’re warm and your flesh isn’t rigid, but what’s with the dead weight? He scooped you into his arms, walking out of the cell. Your warrior friends who saw him locked in right away when they saw you in his arms as he was walking down the pathway.
“Oh, Great Mother, what happened to her?” Aleto asked.
“I knew it, she’s going to die anytime soon because of this!” Si’an said with a shaky voice, both of them following Neteyam as he stepped up the winding ramp to the healing pavilion.
“What’s going on?” Another warrior asked when they passed by.
By the time they reached the pavillion, there were at least nine warriors tailing him, all of them worried. He turned to them before he went inside though, snarling, “Go back to your posts.”
They reluctantly scrambled away, but still looking back to see what they could before he entered the pavilion. Kiri looked up as soon as he did, her brows furrowed. “What happened?”
“She’s not... waking up. She refused to eat for days and now, she’s just... this,” he said, pulling your body closer to his body.
“Put her down there,“ she gestured on a mat. “Is she the avatar brought in weeks ago?”
“Yeah,” he croaked.
Kiri checked your vitals. “You’ll have to call Dad, we’ll ask him,” she said.
Neteyam did. While Jake already knew that it was just a case of the driver not linking to the avatar, his son’s uncharacteristic panicking is suddenly too entertaining to not witness further. He stood in the pavillion, watching Kiri show him how dead you are.
Once Jake assured him that your avatar body was perfectly healthy but simply throwing a massive, stubborn tantrum, Neteyam took matters into his own hands. He brought in a tray of food in the pavilion and waited for you to wake up, if you will. And you did. Your eyes peeled open suddenly, your head swiveling until your eyes landed on the man sitting a few feet away.
“Great. She’s awake,” he says. “And the food’s still hot. Eat,” he ordered flatly.
“Whoa, he goes straight to business,” you mumbled but you didn’t move.
Neteyam crouched down, his shadow looming over your form. “Y/N. Stop this foolishness. Do not do this to punish me,” he said in a deep voice.
You rolled on your stomach. “I am not punishing you!” you said in a small voice, giggling.
Your face was noticeably pale, and your lips were dry, it was all starting to tug at Neteyam’s heartstrings until a wicked spark flared on your face. He threw his head back, knowing you’re about to say something crazy again.
“But do you feel punished?” you asked, smirking at him. “Is that why you came crawling back for me to forgive you?”
Neteyam clenched his jaw so hard a muscle leaped in his cheek. “I just don’t want your death on my hands,” he said.
You pouted. “You’re sooo concerned, it really flatters me,“ you teased, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, leaning dangerously close to his space.
Neteyam stood up so fast he nearly hit his head on the low ceiling root. “You are insufferable,” he growled, turning on his heel and storming out of the tent.
You burst into a loud, echoing laugh that followed him all the way to the pathways. He spinned on his heels again, barging back into the tent and seeing you dragging the tray to eat.
“Good. Eat, because I’m bringing you back to your cell,” he said.
You groaned, your feet kicking in protest. “This isn’t my new room? I could really get cozy in here!” your fingers grabbed a cut up roasted meat and brought it to your mouth.
“This is the healing pavilion,” he replied seriously, standing rigidly by the entrance.
“Can I request something?” you asked. “I seriously need an outfit change and a bath. You know, back on Earth, prisoners have rights. They get bath time and outfit changes—”
“I’ll take care of that,” he said before walking away.
You narrowed your eyes. “So rude,” you smirked, munching on the meat.
He returned just as you were cleaning your leaf off, carrying a bundle of soft, woven fabrics. His eyes tracked how you were reclining on the mat, your long legs stretched out and your upper body propped on one elbow. You licked your fingers off, smiling at him and his lips pulled back in what looked like a snarl before he dropped the fabrics on a nearby low table.
“Here.“
You moved to inspect it, blinking as you realized that they were going to complete your whole Na’vi experience. There was a yellow beaded top and a soft purple loincloth.
“You really made sure I will look like a stunner with my new outfit. I love these,” you smirked.
Neteyam let out a low, visceral groan of pure regret. “If you do not shut your mouth, I will throw you back to your cell without the bath.”
You moaned, standing up as you held the fabrics under your arm. “These threats are starting to sound like flirting to me, Commander, so maybe pipe down.” You widened your eyes at him.
He didn’t respond but you saw how his whole face protested against that, making you chuckle as he led you down the pathway toward the winding ramp. You waved a hand to the warriors you know, seeing them perk up knowing that you’re alright.
The walk to the lower root pools was a masterclass in psychological warfare. For Neteyam, at least. You were unbounded, walking freely beside him, and you did not let up for a single second.
“You know, for a high-ranking commander, you walk very stiffly,” you noted, tilting your head as you matched his long strides. “Are all Na’vi men this tense, or is it just the specialized training for the grumpy ones?”
Neteyam stared straight ahead. “I am tense because you are currently walking next to me instead of being in jail.”
“Ouch,” you gasped, placing a dramatic hand over your chest. “But seriously, look at the view! Everything is gorgeous today. Don’t you ever just want to stop and smell the flowers, Neteyam?”
“No. It’s my everyday view.”
“What about a song? Do you enjoy songs—”
“We’re getting closer to the pools,” he cut you off, his voice dropping an octave as he finally snapped his gaze toward you. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll change my mind and really bring you back to your cell without bath privileges.”
You grinned, entirely unfazed. “See? Look at us, communicating! Building a rapport! This is just great!” You raised both hands.
By the time you reached the secluded lower root pools, Neteyam looked like a man who had survived a war but wasn’t sure he’d survive the peace. The area was beautiful and the sunlight provides a dappled glow over a deep natural basin. Neteyam stopped at the edge of the clearing, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You have ten minutes. I will be standing right here. Face the other way, do your business, and do not make a sound.”
“Ten minutes? For a bath and an outfit change?” you scoffed. “I am an Earth girl, Neteyam. I need a longer time than that! Plus, I have to figure out how to put this loincloth on without accidentally flashing the entire clan.”
Neteyam’s ears twitched violently. He immediately turned his back to you, facing the pathway. “You have nine minutes now. Start scrubbing.”
You chuckled, stepping down into the warm, soothing water. The relief was instant, washing away the grime and stiffness of your avatar’s dramatic captive activity. You splashed around a bit, entirely on purpose, listening to the sharp, annoyed sigh that escaped Neteyam’s lips every time a droplet hit the bank near his feet.
“Neteyam...” you called out.
“What?” he grumbled, refusing to turn around.
“How do you guys get your hair so shiny? Is it a specific leaf? Give me the secrets.”
“I am not giving you hair care advice. Five minutes.”
“Boo. Selfish,” you teased, doing a thumbs down behind his back.
After thoroughly rinsing off and using the saps he gave you, you stepped out of the pool, shivering slightly as the cool breeze hit your damp skin. You grabbed the woven fabrics and began the highly ungraceful process of figuring it out.
The beaded top was simple enough, but the purple loincloth presented a serious problem. “Neteyam...” you called again. “We have a tactical error.”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything! But this loincloth did. Are there instructions for this? Because right now, if I tie this the way I think I'm supposed to, one strong gust of wind is going to ruin your day.”
Neteyam pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders dropping in sheer exhaustion. “It is a standard wrap.”
“Easy for you to say, you’ve been wearing them your whole life! Come here and help me. I promise I won't bite. Unless you want me to...” You made him hear the clank of your teeth biting.
He spun around, a snarl ready on his lips, but as soon as he saw you, he froze. You were holding the fabric securely against your waist, looking thoroughly confused... and so adorable with the little pout that a hot flush creeped up the back of his neck.
Marching over to you with determined steps, he took the ends of the fabric from your hands. You grinned and clapped without a sound, while he focused entirely on the knot, trying to ignore the fact that he was so close to you that some droplets from your hair is on his arm.
“You’re actually really good at this,” you spoke, breaking the moment of tensed silence. “This should be your side hustle. Personal stylist to the prisoners.”
Neteyam pulled the knot tight, a little harder than necessary, making you huff. He stepped back instantly, his expression locking back into a stern mask, though his ears were still pointing out to the sides in clear fluster.
“It is done,” he said flatly, gesturing toward. “Now, back to the cell.”
You looked down at yourself. The yellow beads and vibrant purple looking surprisingly striking on you. You gave him a little twirl and he hated that he liked how you look like in a traditional Na’vi clothes a little too much.
“Honestly? 10 out of 10. I look fantastic,” you declared, confidently walking past him and taking the lead on the path back. “You can walk behind me now, Commander. I know you want to admire your handywork.”
Neteyam let out a sound that was half-growl, half-laugh, shaking his head as he followed you. “May Eywa give me strength,” he whispered.
“She won’t!” you called back cheerfully over your shoulder.
As you two walked up, you spotted Tseru from a distance and he immediately smiled at you. You raised your arm, making a huge wave of your hand, almost walking up to him until you felt Neteyam’s hand on your elbow.
“Another thing. From now on, the guard rotation is canceled. The warriors are completely forbidden from speaking to you. You distract them.”
You gasped dramatically, “You can’t just cut my social life off! Isolation can kill!“ you reasoned, but he already started walking. A slow, Cheshire-cat grin spread across your face as you jogged up behind him, playfully pointing a finger at his back. “But oh, I know this game!”
He stopped abruptly, making you jump. “What game?”
You laughed, your voice echoing in the cavern. “You want me all to yourself?”
He blinked. You saw his ears pin back against his head, like a cat backed in a corner, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve heard that my games are fun and you’re curious, and you—”
He sighed heavily, cutting you off. “Jail.”
He grabbed your wrist and marched down the pathway, bringing you back to your cell. You bounced on your heels, probably the happiest prisoner he’s ever going to see. He pulled the bars shut, and the absolute moment his back was turned and he was out of your sight, Neteyam closed his eyes, a breathless, helpless laugh bubbling up in his chest that he had to bite his own lip to suppress.
A seasoned Omatikaya warrior, not one of your minions, was standing a few paces away, guarding the main thoroughfare, looking at Neteyam with a highly raised eyebrow.
Neteyam instantly wiped the smile from his face, jerking his head toward the man with an authoritative air.
“Don't talk to her.”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The hum of the tech-bay at Bridgehead felt colder than usual as you slid out of the link pod. You didn't even have time to shake off your phantom tail before a shadow fell over your pod.
It was the same grumpy military official from before. He at least waited for you to sit on your swivel chair and drink water before he spoke. “Over a month in a hole and you’re telling me you still haven’t heard a single name? No geographical markers? No anything?”
You blinked up at him, your expression a masterclass in exhausted trauma. “Sir, with all due respect, I am a scientist, not a human GPS. They keep me underground. It’s dark. The only thing I hear is the occasional terrifying growl of whatever alien megafauna they have guarding the perimeter. I am already doing my best to keep a billion-dollar worth of avatar body alive.”
The commander sneered, clearly unsatisfied, but muttered a warning about “withholding operational data” before storming out of the tech-bay.
Once the doors hissed shut, Dr. Danel stepped forward, waving the rest of the lab staff away until it was just you, him, and Marco by the centrifuge station. “Kid. Look at me. You’re a brilliant scholar, but you are a terrible liar to people who actually know you. Where are you really?”
You glanced at the security cameras, then sighed, leaning against the steel counter. “The Omatikaya,” you mouthed subtly, letting out as little voice as possible.
Marco choked on his coffee. “That clan? As in Jake Sully’s clan? Jesus. If the military finds out—”
“They won’t,” you cut him off, your voice fierce and resolute. “Because I’m not telling them. Doc, you should see it. They live inside a massive, perfectly engineered ecosystem. We know they are intelligent, but the entire culture is a blueprint for planetary harmony. If I give the military even a hint of where I am, they’ll bring down Samsons and carpet-bomb the entire valley on the virtue of that useless Recom being held captive.”
Dr. Danel stared at you for a long, heavy moment. Slowly, the tension left his shoulders, and he placed a comforting hand on your arm. “I’m proud of you, kid,” he says. “We hold no loyalties to a corporate flag, our only loyalty is to life itself. I’ll see what I can do on the administrative side to push the investors to allow us to have an independent outpost. We need to get out from under the military’s thumb.”
You nodded, sighing heavily. When you linked back to your avatar the next day, you expected to wake up to the now boring and miserable jail with warriors who refuse to talk. Instead, your eyes cracked open to find the soft, dappled light of what looked like a longhouse.
Even more surprising? Norm Spellman was hovering over you, alongside Jake Sully, who was holding a piece of salvaged RDA technology—a damaged emulation device that had been recovered from a scouting raid.
“Finally,” Norm said, glancing at Jake before he looked down at you. “I’m wondering if you know this?”
You squinted, pushing yourself up into a sitting position on your mat. “An emulation device?” you answered.
“What kind? I mean, this was in a secured brief case. I know it is something very important, but this is a new-generation RDA tech, and we’ve been trying to figured it out. You’re the last resort.”
“That’s a new generation firmware emulator. They use these in the field to spoof localized military frequencies. Basically, it mimics the digital signature of a standard SecOps patrol chopper or armored vehicle so the automated perimeter turrets and scout drones don’t accidentally fire on them,” you said, your voice entirely devoid of any corporate loyalty.
Norm’s jaw dropped. He exchanged a wide-eyed look with Jake. “This is great,” he whispered.
You nodded and yawned, “It is.”
“You know how this works?” Norm followed up and you shrugged.
“Well, you know, before I was thrown into this lovely root cell, I spent months sharing a workspace with the Bridgehead engineers. Let’s just say I know exactly how this new telemetry hardware works. In theory. The tech guys love to brag when they're bored. I know the whole architecture of this thing. If we can manipulate this, you could practically walk a strike team right past their automated scanners. It would be great for you.”
Jake tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Can you crack it? Can you make it work for us?”
You yawned, “I’d love to but I’m in this cell and I don’t have any connection to the outside world, some people would have died—”
“I’ll decree your freedom,” Jake cut you off.
You looked at Norm, “Give me a stylus and I’ll look at the diagnostic layer, I can bypass the standard encryption using an open backdoor. The RDA is cheap. They never rewrite the core code on their hardware.”
Within fifteen minutes of clicking, tapping, and completely exploiting a loophole, the datapad beeped, its interface cascading into a clean, unencrypted stream of decoded frequencies.
“We can work on this, Norm,” you said.
“And you’re free. You’re a guest of the Omatikaya now.”
“I’m free?!” you gasped, a genuine grin breaking across your face.
By midday, you were officially allowed a free woman, given a small, cozy kelku, and granted permission to move about as free as a bird.
Which brought you to your favorite activity: teasing Neteyam.
You spotted him near the lower training ground, checking the tension on his bowstring. You practically bounded over to him, your tail swishing with obnoxious joy.
“Guess who’s a free woman, Commander!” you sang out, sliding into his peripheral vision and waving your hands excitedly. “I’m free! Officially released. No more jail time for this girl. Aren’t you just thrilled?”
Neteyam’s face locked into a deadpan mask. “Considering that I was the one who put you in jail, I couldn’t have been more thrilled,” he answered.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Neteyam,” you teased, leaning down to peer up into his golden eyes. “I know you’re secretly ecstatic that you don't have to break your own rule just to come see me anymore.”
He threw his head back, annoyed but still so handsome. “Do you not have chores to do? Surely, my father freed a high-risk prisoner for an important reason. Members of this clan work. They do not spend their days loitering and harassing warriors.”
“Nope, no chores yet. I’m still in my onboarding phase,” you chuckled, following him step for step as he tried to back away. “Besides, I think my new official job should be your personal shadow. You know, to make sure you don't miss me too much.”
He let out a sharp breath, but before he could snap back, Jake Sully walked by, seeing his son with you. He perked up, making his way to the two of you.
“Neteyam, son,” he clapped a hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. “Y/N is going to be doing an important work with Norm and Max at the human facilities...“ Jake told him.
Neteyam was still looking at you as Jake speaks so you grinned at him. “Important work,” you mouthed, winking.
“...She doesn’t know her way there and we can’t trust that she will live when left unattended outside Hometree, so you’re on guard duty. Every day. You told me yourself that she has a habit of forming her own personal army, so I want an experienced commander keeping an eye on her.”
Neteyam’s ears pinned straight back. He looked at his father in absolute betrayal. “You can’t do this to me...”
“Get to work, son,“ Jake smirked, walking away.
You turned to Neteyam, flashing a brilliant, wide-eyed grin. “Looks like you’re my personal shadow instead. Do you see how me and Eywa are literally like this?” you intertwined your index and middle finger together in front of his face.
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath out of his nose. The distant human research facility is located a few kilometers away through a dense jungle. While you’d like to think that you can actually traverse this alone, some company from a very grumpy warrior is a great thing for a menace like you.
Neteyam marched ahead, his posture so rigid you were convinced a single well-placed twig could snap his spine. His long tail gave tight, irritable twitches every time your bare feet loudly crunched a leaf behind him.
“Neteyam...” you called out and he snapped his head at you with a raised brow, not breaking his stride. “How can you walk like that?”
“Like what?“ he asked.
“I mean, you walk like you’re trying to avoid stepping on bugs,” you said cheerfully, jogging a few steps to catch up to his massive stride. “But it’s impressive! This specialized training is what made it possible for you guys to ambush us and that’s just great, you really showed those Recoms what they are missing—”
“Are you happy you got ambushed and now you’re here as a captive?” he asked.
“I guess so. Bridgehead isn’t really the best place for this,” you twirled. “I deserve this freedom, don’t you think? To plant my feet on this soil, to smell the flowers, to talk to the people, to smell this sweet air—”
“I get it the first time,” he cut you off. “You go back to your human body at Bridgehead, anyway, right?”
“Yes, but I didn’t tell them anything, I swear,” you told him, nodding. “They don’t know where I am.” You made a zipping motion on your lips.
His gaze dropped down on your mouth and his forehead creased. “Why did you do that?” he asked.
You beamed, “Well, err, there’s this thing humans call as zipper. It closes an opening,“ you told him. “So when someone does that, it means their mouth is zipped. They are never going to talk.”
His head tilted, “Well, can you do that? Zip?” he did the motion on his lips.
Your lips pursed, nodding and excited that he’s keeping up. “Yes,” you mouth.
His face visibly smooths over, pointing at the path. “Great. Now, let’s go.”
The daily walks to the human research facility quickly became the highlight of your double life. You link back to your avatar for the important work you do with Norm and Max, but you still spend a significant time in your human body to work on your own study and to ward off military suspicions.
At first, if Neteyam isn’t grumpy, he’s silent. But you were relentless. You ranted about the RDA, you asked him deep theological questions about Eywa, and you taught him incredibly bad Earth puns. Slowly, beautifully, the reverse Stockholm syndrome claimed its highest-ranking victim.
“You know, Neteyam,” you trotted backwards in front of him, looking up at his towering frame with a playful smirk. “I’ve noticed you haven't threatened to tie me to a direhorse backwards in like two weeks. Are you getting soft on me? Am I finally breaking through that thick, grumpy exterior?”
Neteyam stopped walking. The dappled sunlight hitting his sharp jawline and broad shoulders. “You think you are very clever, sky girl,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that deep, gravelly register that made a weird, exhilarating warmth rush straight to your thighs.
“Admit it. You like having me around. You think I’m delightful,” you shot back cheekily, stepping closer before your eyes got snagged by a nearby flower. “Look at that flower over there! Isn’t that called pxuyo? There was a similar plant back in my world—”
“If you touch it, it will shoot thousands of tiny hairs into your face. You will not see the Great Mother, but your eyes will swell shut and you won’t be able to see anything for days.”
“I know! I was saying there was something like that back in my world, and someone made the mistake of wiping their butt with it—”
“What?” His face crumpled in visible distess.
You stared at the beautiful flower, then back at him, nodding solemnly. “Yes,” you said. “But this one’s crazier, because it shoots people. Beautiful and deadly.”
“Like some people,” he murmured, a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth giving him away.
“Oh, did you just smile?!” you cheered, bouncing on your heels in front of him.
As the weeks bled into a routine, the frosty wall between you has completely shattered. You were a walking encyclopedia of useless Earth trivia and hyper-fixated xenobiology facts, and Neteyam, to his own absolute horror, was actually starting to listen. You’d be dissecting the cellular structure of a glowing root, and he would chime in with the practical applications of its sap.
“And then, the humans just sit on a couch and scream at each other for money! It’s art, Neteyam, truly—”
Your foot hit a slick patch of moss. Your arms flailed, your tail whipped around seeking balance, and you went down hard, sliding flat on your butt into a pile of thick, squishy mud.
You sat there, looking utterly ridiculous.
Neteyam froze. He looked down at you. His chest heaved once. Twice. And then, a sound escaped him. A deep, booming laugh that echoed through the canopy. He threw his head back, his white teeth flashing, his entire face lighting up in a way that genuinely took your breath away.
“You’re laughing!” you shrieked pointing a muddy finger at him. “There’s no way! Someone write this down in the ancient lore!”
“Shut up,” he gasped, coughing to clear his throat as he tried to pull his stern commander mask back on, though his eyes were still dancing with pure amusement. He stepped down the slope and extended a hand to haul you out of the muck. “Look at you. You are a disaster.”
“I’m a xenobiologist, Neteyam, I’m all good with mud,” you huffed, deliberately wiping a streak of mud onto his forearm as he pulled you up.
“Well, now, you’re going to a field trip to the nearest river because you can’t go home like that,” he said and you squealed.
Your closeness have grown exponentially that instead of dumping you off at the facility as soon as he has successfully walked you there like he used to, Neteyam started to linger. He would come inside, to the surprise of Norm and Max who weren’t really used to him coming here as much as Lo’ak and Kiri who practically spent every waking day here with Spider.
Neteyam had always preferred spending his days training in his archery and flying on his ikran. Now, he’s sitting cross-legged on a metal crate watching you work with Norm and Max.
“Who is Lo’ak?” you asked when Max mentioned him in passing.
“My brother,” Neteyam answered from where he was sitting, carving on a wood.
“Your brother?! You have a brother I didn’t know about? Where is this man this entire time—”
“He’s mated,” he cut you off. “Not available.”
You choked on your own saliva, your tail giving a violent, shocked flaught. “Mated?! Already? Dang, the younger generation moves fast around here. What about you, big brother? You got a secret mate hidden in the trees that I should know about?”
He slowly raised his head, his eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, heavy intensity that made the playful words die in your throat.
“No,” he said softly, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that did wild things to your heart rate. “I do not.”
“I—I was just asking...” you smoothly looked away, suddenly finding the dirt under your fingernails fascinating. You cleared your throat, frantically trying to focus on your work, but your hands were shaking.
You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and lingering. Over the last moon and weeks, something had shifted. The way his hand lingered just a second too long when he helped you cross a puddle. The way his ears pointed directly toward you the moment you entered a room. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention, not like a security risk, but like something fascinating he was trying to understand.
And it terrified you.
You looked down at your blue hands. This wasn't your real body. Your real flesh and blood was sitting in a metal city miles and miles away, owned by a corporate war machine that you were actively betraying. Your life was a ticking clock of lies, military interrogations, and double-dealing. You were a ghost inhabiting a fake body
Falling for Jake Sully’s son would be a catastrophic complication. But as you stole a glance at Neteyam, who had gone back to his carving with a small, quiet smile on his lips, you realized with a sinking feeling that your stupid, traitorous heart had already crossed the line.
To mask the deafening alarms blaring in your head, you did what you always did when a situation became entirely too real: you turned your internal volume up to a solid eleven.
On the walk back to Hometree, you practically performed a one-woman theater show. You jumped over roots with dramatic flairs, ranted about the nutritions of Pandoran berries, and attempted to teach Neteyam the entire baseline plot of The Matrix using wild arm movements. You didn’t know when it started, but this tension in the atmosphere between you two had only grown thicker and more charged day by day.
And you know that if you stayed silent, it would be awkward, so you talked over it like your life depended on it.
“And then the guy chooses the red pill, Neteyam! It’s an allegory for waking up from corporate brainwashing! Honestly, I think you’d really relate to the main guy—”
You whipped around to face him, walking backward to gauge his reaction, but yoy heel caught the edge of a slick, rain-soaked stone.
“Whoa—!”
Your arms flailed, preparing your body for another ungraceful landing in the mud, but it never came.
A heavy, calloused hand shot out, wrapping securely around your waist. Neteyam hauled you forward against his chest with dizzying force, his other hand anchoring firmly on your shoulder to steady you.
The forest around you seemed to hold its breath. A sudden, gentle breeze rustled the canopy above, sending a flock of fan lizards spiraling down into the clearing. They unfurled into brilliant, spinning wheels of bioluminescent purple and gold, casting an ethereal glow over both of your faces.
Your breath caught. You were pressed completely against him, his chest rising and falling in a rapid and uneven way. You swallowed hard. He’s so handsome. Neteyam’s eyes flickered down, his intense gaze dropping entirely to your lips. You were scrambling for a witty thing to say, beating him from what you know would be a reprimand on walking backward.
But a reprimand didn’t came.
Because he leaned down, and you felt his soft lips pressing against yours, catching your lips in a deep, sudden, breathless kiss.
Now, it would be a lie if you claimed you’ve never imagined kissing him in the past weeks, but you certainly only imagined a gentle, polite kiss. Knowing how he’s this proper and refined gentleman who won’t go up to you at a club and ask you to come home with him.
The kiss was possessive. It was hard and consuming, and made you feel that the hidden glances and accidental brushes of his fingers against yours mean more than what you thought they were. You felt the this is long overdue message he was sending through the kiss as you kissed him back, your hand tightening around his large bicep.
His grip on your waist also tightened, pulling you completely flush against his warmth, emboldened by the fact that you want it, too. When he finally pulled back, his breath was a warm puff against your cheek. Your eyes were wide, your lips parted and your mind was completely blank. He pulled you up to your feet and you had to run your fingers through your hair in an attempt to smooth down your mind.
But still, you couldn’t say a single word for the rest of the walk.
Your zipped-mouth rule was enacted without any request from outside parties, it was simply driven by pure, unadulterated shock for what happened. What you allowed to happen. But Neteyam? The universe apparently loved a comedy of roles, because the moment you shut up, a brilliant, smug smirk broke across his face, and he took it as his personal cue to become the talkative one.
“What’s wrong, sky girl?” he asked, his voice dripping with an insufferable amusement as he matched your stiff stride. “I don’t remember you from my stiff walking classes for the grumpy ones.”
You glared at the path ahead, your tail twitching stiffly behind you.
“You walk very fast when you are quiet,” he noted, jogging a step to lean into your peripheral vision, his ears perking in absolute victory. “I thought you wanted to smell the sweet air? To plant your feet in the soil?”
“Sh...” Shut up, you snarled. You face was already burning a violent shade of deep purple.
So when you two finally reached Hometree, you headed straight for the communal eating areas, desperately seeking refuge. Normally, you sat with your warrior friends, gossiping, playing Earth games, and being loud enough to be a little disturbing. You sat down on a woven mat, grabbing a leaf of roasted fish, hoping the crowd would buffer you.
But a heavy shadow fell over your mat and Neteyam sat right next to you, his long legs crossing comfortably as he reached for a piece of fruit, his arm circling around you instead of reaching in front of you, which made it feel like he was hugging you.
You looked at him, then at your friends who are awkwardly looking at their leaf plates. “What are you doing? Your spot is over there with your family.”
“It just seems more... interesting here,” he said smoothly, a wicked spark dancing in his eyes before he turned to your friends. “Why are we silent?”
You stammered out a clumsy, non-committal noise before shoving more food into your mouth as Aleto scrambled for something to say. It was infuriating. It was like a switch had been flipped in his brain. He had completely adapted to your antics and was now weaponizing them against you. You tried to fight back with narrow glares and sharp elbows, but every time he chuckled, your traitorous heart did a pathetic little flip.
The next morning, the hum of the tech-bay at Bridgehead felt colder and more jarring than ever. You sat at your desk, staring blankly at a centrifuge of soil separation, completely distracted. You had been spinning the same vial for ten minutes without hitting start.
“Hey, little bird,” Marco’s voice cut through your daze. He leaned over your workstation, holding a data pad. “You’ve been staring at that soil like it owes you a worm. Dr. Danel asked for the mineral breakdown an hour ago. What’s going on with you?”
You let out a massive sigh, burying your face in your hands. “Marco. I have a problem. A huge, complicated, multi-layered problem.”
Marco pulled up a rolling stool, eyebrows raised. “Alright, spill. Is the military digging into your field logs again?”
“No, no. Let’s play a hypothetical game,” you said, spinning your swivel chair to face him. “Hypothetically, let’s say someone is in a foreign world. And hypothetically, there is this foreign person. He’s a local inhabitant of that world and... Well, he’s very handsome. But he happens to be, uhm,“ you cleared your throat. “Let’s just say there’s a Romeo and Juliet stuff going on.“
Marco’s brows rose. A slow, knowing grin began to spread across his face. “Uh-huh. Go on.”
“And hypothetically, this local inhabitant has spent weeks being an arrogant, grumpy jerk, but then he suddenly has a personality breakthrough, laughs like music, and then... hypothetically this Romeo kisses Juliet’s brains out under a cloud of glowing fan lizards. Very romantic, very tragic.” You groaned, dropping your head onto the metal desk. “What does Juliet do in this completely crazy scenario?”
Marco let out a low whistle, clapping his hands together. “Jesus, Y/N. Are you in love with Jake Sully’s kid?”
You lifted your head, “I didn't say it was me!”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Marco laughed, but his expression quickly sobered, turning gentle and cautious. “But look... You know how messy this is, right? You can't... be with him. Even if we ignore the fact that his dad is public enemy number one to the corporate suits upstairs, you're an avatar driver. You live in a metal box. Your real body is here, you, a human. How does that even work long-term?”
You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “I know,” you whispered to the cold metal desk, the reality of his words heavy and suffocating. “I know it's complicated. I know that.”
The harsh reality of exactly how complicated it was arrived three days later, during a festival.
The main comnunal area of Hometree was alive with a vibrant, rhythmic energy. Drums boomed through the wooden pillars, and the tapestries glowed in deep red and orange. You were sitting near the back, nursing a cup of sweet water, looking for Neteyam’s familiar silhouette in the crowd.
You found him near the central hearth. But he wasn't alone.
A striking huntress was standing beside him. She was one of the warriors returning from a long journey trading with the southern clans, her posture proud and fierce. She laughed, a bright, clear sound, and playfully shoved Neteyam’s shoulder. Neteyam smiled back, a polite, warm smile, listening to her talk animatedly about something.
A cold, heavy knot twisted violently in your chest.
You nudged Si’an, who was sitting nearby stringing a bow. “Si’an. Who is that? The girl talking to Neteyam.”
Si’an looked over, his face instantly brightening. “Ah! That is Maneya! She has finally returned from Zeswa. She and Neteyam were batchmates. The elders have been speaking to the Olo’eyktan about their arrangement for a looong time. Everybody knows they are to be betrothed before the turning of the next season. They will definitely be mates.”
“Oh. I see. Good for him.”
But deep inside, the words felt like a physical blow, knocking the air clean out of your lungs.
Betrothed. Mate.
You stared at them across the firelit cavern. The woman was perfect. She belonged here. She didn't have a fake body, she didn't have a corporate countdown hanging over her head, and she didn't spend her days lying to a military division to keep the people alive because she is not the enemy. She was part of his world, entirely and without compromise.
A wave of bitter, stinging humiliation washed over you. You had actually let yourself believe that a kiss and some shared banter meant something in a world you were only visiting. He had a whole life mapped out, basically a fiancée waiting to walk down the aisle, and he had treated you like a fun, temporary distraction. Some sky girl to pass the time with.
You put your bowl down on the nearest table, your tail giving a sharp, defensive lash. You didn't stay for the rest of the music. You walked straight back to your kelku, your heart aching with a sudden, sharp clarity. You were a fool to think you could belong here.
You slept early. You shed your tears in your cold, metal room at Bridgehead, wiping your face, staring at the white ceiling, and deciding right then and there that nothing will come out of this.
This was what you actually loved about yourself. You were a masterclass at adaptability. You had a PhD in accepting things you cannot control. You didn’t let things trip you up for long because life kept moving, whether you were crying or not. Falling for Neteyam was a dead end. It would be an agonizing, impossible mess for both of you, and clearly, he wasn’t even looking in that direction anyway. He had a whole damn fiancée.
You had absolutely zero respect for lying men who went around kissing other women while being fully committed to someone else. You hated that despite being over a nine-foot-tall, majestic blue alien warrior, he was acting just like any trashy guy back on Earth. Nothing turns you off more than that. He’s a loser!
When you linked back into your avatar the next day, just in time for your work with Norm and Max, you took extra care braiding your hair. You made sure you looked sharp, and you felt like a brand-new person with a heavily reinforced wall.
The moment you stepped out of your kelkua and saw Neteyam already standing by the pathway, you almost frowned. See, you were a cool girl, but even the coolest girls needed a grace period after finding out they were accidentally the other woman.
“You’re finally awake,” he said, his voice almost breathless, his golden eyes instantly tracking your face. “You slept early. You left the feast.”
“Ah-ah, correction: I don’t sleep, I log out,” you said, your tone breezy, entirely devoid of yesterday's vulnerability. “I’m not a real Na’vi whatsoever. Remember when I was in my cell and I was just a limp, dead body on the floor? That’s what happens. Spooky, isn’t it?”
Without waiting for him, you started walking down the pathway.
He blinked, rushing a step to follow you. “I remember, and it is not spooky. My father told me that is just how it is with avatar bodies.”
“Yes, totally unnatural, because I’m basically like a remote-controlled toy,” you said, letting out a sharp chuckle. “And I needed to leave the feast early because I had to log out and live my real human life.”
“I tried to find you,” he said, his voice dropping into a lower, tighter tone.
You turned your head, flashing him a bright smile. “Well, I have a strict schedule to make sure my real body won't weaken and die, you know,” you replied casually. “Prolonged time in a link unit can literally kill a human. My real muscles will harden and weaken, I could die of dehydration... and I really need my human body to stay alive. She’s going to get married one day, have kids. She can’t do any of that if I keep stealing her consciousness to play avatar in the woods.”
You glanced at him and laughed, but he only looked visibly pale under the azure. He looked entirely struck dumb by the sudden bombardment of information.
He didn't know what to process first: the terrifying realization that your vulnerable human body was at constant risk of dying if you stayed with him too long, or the sudden, jarring mental image of you married to a human man, having human children, entirely out of his reach. That can’t be possible.
His mouth opened, then closed. He opened it again, clearly trying to find the words to ask you what the hell you meant by that, but the heavy hesitation caught in his throat. He closed it again.
Seeing the hesitation on his face was exactly the window you needed. You loudly clapped your hands together, instantly changing the subject.
“Anyway! Did Norm say if we’re processing the frequency modules today? Because I swear, if Max messed up again, I’m going to lose it.”
You kept up a relentless barrage of small talk, chattering about soil samples, weather patterns, and anything that wasn't personal, leaving him absolutely zero time to process his thoughts. It worked perfectly. Neteyam remained dead silent for the entire walk to the facility, his jaw set so tightly you could see the muscle leaping in his cheek.
You expected him to leave once you reached the shacks, but to your secret frustration, he still stayed. He sat on his usual metal crate, but he wasn't carving wood today. He just watched you with a dark, brooding intensity that made your skin prickle.
Right on the dot, the moment the digital clock on the lab wall clicked over to your designated departure time, Neteyam stood up.
“It is time,” he announced, his voice serious. “You cannot stay any longer. Your schedule.”
You couldn't help but chuckle. “Look at you, playing the schedule police,” you grinned, winking at Max who chuckled. “Alright, alright, keeping me alive. Good job, Commander.”
You were a complete chatterbox, too, on the way back, filling the jungle air with meaningless noise so the silence couldn't breathe. But as you approached Hometree, the welcoming view wasn't the only thing waiting for you.
Maneya was standing right at the entrance. The moment she spotted Neteyam, a bright, beautiful smile broke across her face. You made sure to stop yourself from feeling bitter about it. You need to be happy about this. Happy, happy, happy, you chanted in your mind
You stopped in your tracks for a fraction of a second, then turned to Neteyam with a slow, heavily teasing purse of your lips. He froze, looking at you with wide, panicked eyes, looking exactly like a little kid who had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar.
“Well, it’s sleep time for me, and date time for you,” you teased, your voice dripping with artificial cheer as you showed him a closed fist. “Good luck, lover boy.”
“Y/N—”
You walked right past him, offering a polite, breezy smile to Maneya. Maneya’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes narrowing with a quiet calculation as she watched you pass.
You hated this. You absolutely loathed being caught in this kind of trashy dynamic. It felt like being a guy's ‘girl best friend’, the one he was definitely crossing physical lines with behind closed doors while maintaining a perfect, public relationship with his girlfriend. It was cheap, it was messy, and you wanted absolutely no part in this anymore.
The next morning, when it was time to head to the human facility, Neteyam wasn’t outside the kelku. You were told he was caught up in an early council meeting but asks for you to wait for him. You won’t do that, considering he’s still not here and you were going to be late, and you love being punctual. You walked straight up to Tseru instead.
“Hey, Tseru, do me a favor and walk me to the lab today? Commander Grumpy is busy, and I’ve got a lot of data to run,” you said, your voice clipping with fake authority before you laughed it off.
But still, Tseru blinked, looking around nervously. “Uh... Neteyam said no one else is allowed to—”
“Neteyam is busy with his actual life,” you said, your tail lashing behind you. “Let's go.”
Reluctantly, Tseru escorted you. When you arrived at the facility, you threw yourself into your work with a terrifying, hyper-focused vengeance. You ran data with Norm and Max all day, completely ignoring the passage of time, yet you kept glancing at the windows anyway. So, he’s not only late, he wouldn’t have come if you waited for him.
“Whoa, slow down, Einstein,” Norm laughed, watching you aggressively type into a console. “You’re gonna burn out the processors.” he said, biting on his sandwich.
You chuckled, “Sorry. I’m just that way when my mind’s working fast.”
He shrugs, his human body leaning against a table. “Hey, Max and I were actually talking... have you thought about staying out here permanently? I mean, you can’t go back to Bridgehead. We could really use your brain out here full-time.”
You paused, your shoulders dropping as a wave of exhaustion hit you. You’ve though of that many times, and many times, you have been disappointed to know that it’s just not possible.
“Logistically, Norm, I can’t. My human body is sitting in a high-security sector back at Bridgehead. The link pods are massive, heavily monitored corporate property. I can’t exactly pack it into a backpack and walk out.”
“Do you have any friends on the inside who could help smuggle it out?” Max asked.
“No,” you chuckled. “No one with that kind of clearance. It’s just not possible. I’d have to give up one if I want to stay here, you know? Escape Bridgehead as a human, which is also high risk, because the military is hot on me. I lied to them about where this avatar is, remember? And if I escape as a human, I will lose the link unit, and this avatar will be useless.”
Norm closed his eyes and shook his head, defeated, while Max sighed heavily. All the brightest minds on Pandora had no solution to your problem and it just makes it all feel worse.
What you didn't know, however, was that back at Bridgehead, Dr. Danel had been silently moving mountains. Armed with the truth you had trusted him with, he had spent the last weeks aggressively lobbying the main corporate investors, convincing them that your research was too valuable to be compromised by the ongoing political tension with the military.
Now, he had managed to get the ultimate green light: a covert relocation authorization to establish an independent outpost deep within the Hallelujah Mountains. Out of the military’s eyes.
That night, emotionally exhausted from everything and physically drained from your research, you decided not to return to Hometree. You curled up on a cot in the human facility and let your consciousness fade, pulling your mind back to your human body to assist Dr. Danel with what you thought was just standard lab data cataloging.
You had no idea of the sheer, unmitigated chaos you had left behind at Hometree, though.
The moment the council meeting was over, Neteyam had stormed into the human facility, but when he arrived, he found your avatar completely out on the cot. He had tried to shake you, to wake you, but he knew you were entirely gone. He hated that the council took too long, that it had taken so much of the day, and now he wasn’t even able to talk to you about all the things he arranged in his mind last night.
And then, you didn't wake up the next day. Or the day after that.
For nearly three full days, your avatar remained a completely unresponsive shell. Back at Bridgehead, Dr. Danel had initiated a sudden relocation of the link pods. The physical logistics of disconnecting your human pods, loading them onto independent transport, and flying them deep into the floating mountains took many agonizing hours. Because of the system reboots and physical transit, you were forced to stay out of your avatar.
To Neteyam, it was a three-day nightmare. He had spent those three days in a state of absolute, paralyzed terror. Now, he’s sure you had died. But Norm, in his desire to console him, reasoned that the avatar is not dead, but that there is definitely something wrong with you, the human. They mentioned that the military was hot on you for withholding secrets about where the avatar really is, that they have probably learned you were lying about it.
It had taken Norm begging on his knees to stop him from the suicide mission of going to Bridgehead and see for himself what’s really going on. He had hovered over your sleeping avatar body, refusing to go on patrol, his heart crumpling every time he thinks of his absolute foolishness. He should have talked to you. It's only that he didn’t know if you were on the same page with him.
He likes you very much. Probably even more than that. You are an amazing woman who can get anything, anyone, you want, and he refuses to believe that you will settle for someone... like him. He wants you and he had never been more sure of anything in his entire life, but he didn’t know if you would ever entertain that.
He kissed you, and you kissed him back, but does that mean anything to you like it did for him? You have a whole life outside of this avatar. Heck, you have your own world, and this was just what he has. When you said you were going to marry and have a family in your human form, you couldn’t have made it clearer that you do not see your future locked up in this body.
And now, he could lose any chance he could have had because he was too scared to take a risk. So what if you happen not to like him the way he wants you to? It doesn’t matter.
On the afternoon of the third day, you linked back to your avatar as soon as the outpost systems in the Hallelujah Mountains were settled. The cold, sterile air of the facility rushed into your lungs, but before you could even adjust to the light, a heavy, trembling force slammed into you.
Two massive, muscular blue arms wrapped around your shoulders, hauling you upright from the cot and pulling you fiercely against a broad, solid chest. You gasped, blinking in shock as you smelled the distinct scent of mint.
It was Neteyam. He was disheveled, his breathing ragged, holding onto you with a terrifying, desperate strength as if he were trying to fuse your body into his own.
Norm and Max rushed into the room, looking exhausted but small smiles were written on their faces. “Kid, what happened to you?” Max asked. “Got trouble with the military? I almost got war flashbacks, you know. With Jake and all.”
You were grinning at them. “No, no, quite the opposite. It was a long story,” you said, bringing your hands up to push against Neteyam’s chest so he would release his grip.
“What happened to you?” he asked when he finally pulled away.
The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heartstrings. It’s not something you’ve ever heard from him and it broke away at the wall you tried to put up. Norm glanced at Neteyam and smirked at you knowingly.
“Just to let you know, he has been here for a record-breaking duration of three days and a half,” he said.
Your brows furrowed, rearing your head back to look at him. “You didn’t go home?”
Like a chastised child, he threw you a sharp look through the fringe of his lashes. “You were not waking up.”
“And you know that’s simply me not linking to my avatar,” you pressed your palm against his shoulder.
He caught your hand and didn't let go. “And what of your human self? Are you alright, were you hurt, were you barred from linking to this body?” he asked, his voice hard and heated.
You blinked, your panicking eyes flitting to Max and Norm who are slowly backing away. “Uh, yes, she’s alright. Not hurt. And no, not barred from linking,” you said.
His face smoothed over, looking calmer than ever. “Then why...?”
You pushed your lips forward, stopping yourself from flashing a menacing smile. “I was on a date and then I got married—”
“What?” he asked, his voice rising. “You got married?”
You pursed your lips, looking at his face fall like you just told him he didn’t pass a test. “I’m just kidding,“ you said with a deadpan face. “We did a major relocation. Dr. Danel managed to snag a life-changing opportunity—”
You weren’t able to finish your sentence when his lips came crashing down on yours. His large hand was clamped at your nape, too, deepening the kiss. You closed your eyes and kissed him back for what felt like forever, just savoring the fact that you are kissing again, and then you remembered.
You pushed against his chest, moving away from him. “No, no, no,” you said, pointing a finger at him. “You cannot do this. To me and that huntress who would be your mate. I don’t know if there’s a concept of being a playboy in this world, but that’s you. You can't just kiss me whenever you feel like it—”
“Huntress who would be my mate?” he echoed. “Maneya? She is not going to be my mate—”
“I didn’t strike you for a liar, but I guess you also are—”
His large hands held either of your upper arms to make you face him properly before he looked in you in the eyes, dead serious. “I'm not. I am not betrothed to Maneya. The council wants that; the council wants her to be my mate, but I don't. I never did, and I honestly never knew what I wanted in that area of my life, but I know now. In fact, I have a ten-year plan that involves this avatar that only links back to her body when she feels like it. I never knew Eywa to be this cruel, but to have me fall in love with someone I can't have is a cruel thing to play at.”
You blinked twice and then thrice. For the second time in your life, and because of the same person, you couldn’t find your words, and you are acting the way you never want to: stupid. You watched his face go from emotionally charged and deeply romantic to that of acceptance.
He nodded once, looking down at your hand, linking his lips wet. “I know you don’t see me that way, but I wanted to get that out,” his eyes snapped up to you. “I don’t want to be just friends with you and I want you to know that.”
Your heart felt like it had stopped beating, then jumpstarted only for it to feel like you’ve ran a marathon. “Was it... necessary to say all that looking extremely handsome... Or?” You drew a circle on your face in the air using your pointing finger.
It was his time to look like he couldn't find the words. “I...I don’t—I don’t know...” he stammered, bringing a hand up to touch his side braid.
You smiled at him, raising a hand to cup his jaw and cheek. “I appreciate that, Neteyam...” you mumbled, hating that you had to wipe off the hope on his face. “But it’s... It’s complicated—”
“Because you’re not like me? I don’t care—”
“Yes, and more. I’m living a double life. I’m a human and this is not me. This is not the real me—”
“So what? This,” he motioned at your body. “is just a vessel. Who you are is whatever you have shown me, shown us. There’s a human version and I like her, too, because that’s still you. It doesn’t matter to me, Y/N.”
“It matters to me,” you said, emphasizing your point. “It matters to me that you will be in trouble for being with me. It matters to me that you will find it hard to live a normal life because you’re with me. It’s not as easy as you think it will be. What you feel for me—”
“It’s not going away. I know myself. It will happen only once and I will never feel this way again,” he vowed. “All of those things you were saying, I can live with that. Don’t worry about me. I’ll worry about us. I’ll handle my people.”
You bit your lip, you gaze dropping down. “I... I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll help you.” he said.
Your eyes snapped up, your brows furrowed. “Help me how?”
He looked at you seriously. “Think.”
By helping you think, it means an unyielding, high-frequency presence. He walks you back and forth from Hometree to the facility, he materializes in front of you whenever you so much as need a heavy crate of stabilizers moved, already lifting it before you could reach for a hoist. If you were sitting in front of a terminal to analyze data, he would be sitting in a corner, sharpening his tools, but still having his eyes locked onto you with a steady, quiet intensity that made it completely impossible to focus on a single string of code.
Eventually, you needed to do something about that. Which is why you pulled Norm and Max for a talk one afternoon, explaining the massive administrative change Dr. Danel had pulled off, the relocation authorization that had successfully shifted your human pods entirely out from under military surveillance and into the hidden sanctuary of the Hallelujah Mountains.
Norm scratched the back of his head, a stunned look passing over his features. “Boy, if this isn't familiar. It's like history repeating itself with better hardware. So, you’re staying here... for real?”
“If you’ll have me,” you nodded firmly, crossing your arms. “I need you to talk to Jake, Norm. I want to stay based at this facility permanently instead of trekking back to Hometree. It’ll save me time every single day, and I can just dive straight into work once I link back to this body.”
You didn't mention the real reason, but you were secretly hoping the distance would act as a natural deterrent. If you weren't at Hometree, maybe Neteyam’s intense focus would naturally drift back to his actual duties.
“Done,” Norm nodded, clapping you on the arm. “I'll clear it with Jake. He'll understand.”
But your master plan failed spectacularly. The distance wasn't a deterrent at all; if anything, it only made Neteyam more deliberate. He was a man of his word and entirely a man of action. The moment he learned you were staying at the facility, he simply adjusted his patrol rotations. He began showing up during the exact blocks of time he knew you’d be in your avatar to work with Norm, silently stepping in to assist with manual labor, his quiet devotion remaining completely unbothered by the miles of jungle between you.
The internal conflict grew so loud that it bled right into your human shifts. Back at the newly settled outpost in your real body, Dr. Danel noticed your distraction. You were aggressively cataloging plates with a tense, exhausted look on your face.
“Why don’t you sit and rest for a moment, Y/N?” Dr. Danel’s leveled voice said behind you. “You seem distracted. Are you doing too much work in your avatar?”
You shook your head. “No, not really. It’s nothing I can handle, Doc. It’s something...” you fell back on a rolling chair, sighing as I looked at the pink pads of your fingers.
“Jake Sully’s son...” he trailed, making you snap your eyes up at him. He had a humored look on his face, “Marco had a slip-up.”
You glared at Marco’s link unit, knowing he’s there because you saw his avatar making his way out earlier. “Oh, I don’t believe that! He snitched on purpose!”
He laughed, still busy working in the bay area. “I wouldn’t have repeated it to another soul, kid.”
You sighed, propping your cheek on your palm. “It’s just that... Doc, have you ever thought of falling in love... here? I know what you’re going to tell me. It’s complicated, it’s hard to make it happen, but... He likes me. And he’s really showing me that he wants me. It would have been better if he didn’t, you know? That it’s just me harboring an unusual class on a very handsome blue alien, but no...”
He listened to you rant the entire saga. You told him everything. How Neteyam sent you to jail, how he became your grumpy, jerk bodyguard, how he softened over time, the kiss under the fan lizards, the weight of your double life, the fiancée that isn’t really a fiancée, and how absolutely terrified you were that you were in deep, irreversible trouble with Jake Sully’s oldest son.
Dr. Danel listened quietly, letting out a soft, amused chuckle as he leaned against a sterile lab counter. “What is there to be scared about, kid? It’s love. I’ll actually give you some credit for thinking this through so thoroughly, because heaven knows Jake Sully didn't think for a single second when he crossed that line.”
You pushed your lips forward into a pout, staring down at your human hands.
“You are incredibly lucky to find something like that here, Y/N,” he said gently, his expression softening. “When we left Earth, we know what left behind. The opportunity to just... be human. We gave up everything in pursuit of science. To find love, hope, and real life, something completely separate from what is strictly necessary for survival on another planet, is an incredible stroke of luck.”
You looked up at him and slowly nodding as the truth of it settled into your chest.
“You are a scientist, Y/N, and I know it is your job to analyze and think,” he added, giving you a reassuring smile. “But try not thinking when it comes to this.”
That was the exact, final push you needed to leap straight off the cliff.
Neteyam had absolutely no idea, but your choice was made.
Later that afternoon, back in your avatar, you asked to him to go down the nearby river under the guise of collecting aquatic plant specimens, which you won’t really need that much on the work you’re doing with Norm and Max, but you could study on it separately.
Now, you’re watching the water rushed softly over the smooth river stones, casting dancing reflections of light against the canopy. You sat on the riverbank, watching him walk over to stand directly in front of you.
A familiar, wicked smirk tugged at your lips, your tail swaying mischievously behind you that his eyes dropped down there as you were reaching out, you caught his large hand and pulled him firmly toward you until his massive torso was securely caged between your thighs.
Before he could even ask what you were doing, you leaned up and caught his lips in a deep, deliberate kiss.
You could tell it completely caught him off guard. Neteyam’s ears twitched in surprise, his head rearing back slightly as the kiss broke so he could look down into your eyes. The sudden, brilliant flare of pure happiness in his golden gaze made your heart soar. You leaned right back in, kissing him a second time, but he was far too wise to let you off that easily. He held his position, withholding the full force of his response, his hands anchoring gently on your waist.
“Tell me you are giving me a chance, and we will kiss more,” he whispered, his voice thick, gravelly, and intense.
“I am giving you a chance,” you whispered back, your fingers tangling in the beads of his braids. “In fact, it’s a really huge chance. Whatever you’re thinking about, Neteyam, I’m right beside you.”
He let out a shuddering breath of pure relief, his shoulders visibly dropping as he grounded himself in your words. Both of his large hands slid up to cradle your face, and he kissed you. Hard, deep, and possessively, before pulling back just enough to stare directly into your eyes.
“You will never regret that. I will not let you.”
You smiled at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him back down. There was an understanding.
Or so you thought. Because there was an obvious cultural barrier at play here, because to you, you two were officially in a relationship now. Dating, plain and simple. But to him, he was still technically in the formal phase of courting you.
The very next day, you stepped out of the facility, stretching your arms and fully prepared for work, and to seeing your new boyfriend by midday, once he comes after his patrol, only to find Neteyam already standing by the path holding a giant, freshly killed hexapede. It was slung over his broad shoulders while his other hand was holding a basket of something.
You stopped dead in your tracks. You blinked once. Twice.
“Uh... good morning to you, too, hunting god,” you stammered, pointing a finger at everything. “Are we... having a very aggressive breakfast, or did you bring me a giant, heavy prop for our walk?”
Neteyam walked forward, his expression deadpan but his ears held exceptionally high. He dropped the carcass right at your feet.
“I have brought you the first kill of my current rotation,” he said, his voice deep. “It’s what we do to show our intended that we can provide. I will provide for you from now on.”
You stared at the dead animal, then up at him, your lips twitching as you tried to process the cuteness of this all.
“Neteyam, sweetheart... I live in a metal shack now with a microwave and a bunch of scientists who eat synthetic protein bars,” you said slowly, peering up at him through your lashes. “But... I guess I can force them to eat what I do with this. Or we could bring this back to the cooks back at Hometree?” you bit your lip, your eyes snagging to the basket full of fruits. “Oh, this, however! I would very much love to keep.”
“Bring back to Hometree? This is traditional. A warrior brings a tribute to the woman he courts to show he can sustain her,” his ears pinned back against his head.
“Courts?” You echoed, stepping right into his space and boldly grabbing his face, pulling him down into a quick, smacking kiss on the lips that entirely shattered his stern warrior posture. His eyes went wide as you pulled back, grinning like a menace. “Baby, we kissed really crazy under a cloud of glowing bugs and I told you I'm riding shotgun on your future plans. The trial period is over. You passed. We’re dating!”
“Dating?” he echoed, the human word sounding completely foreign on his tongue. His forehead creased in confusion. “What is day-ting? Is it a human ritual where you do not accept food?”
“It means you don't have to carry a hundred-pound carcass through the jungle just to prove you're a catch,” you chuckled, reaching up to playfully tug on one of his ears, making it twitch. “It means we are together. It means instead of giving me dead meat, you can just do this.”
You leaned in again, your hands sliding up his chest before wrapping around his neck, pulling him into a long, slow, dizzying kiss that had his hands dropping the basket he had been holding. He melted instantly, his large hands clamping onto your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
When you finally broke away, you were both breathing a little heavier. You winked at him, tapping his nose with your finger.
“See? Way less heavy than a yerik, and arguably much better for morale,” you teased. You patted his muscled chest, “I’m keeping the fruits and the yerik goes to Hometree communal kitchen. I’m eating dinner there tonight so I’m still eating what you hunted for. That okay with you, lover boy?”
You pursed your lips and watched him bite his lower lip. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Okay. I’m going to work! I have data to run, and my boyfriend is making me late!”
Neteyam stood in the middle of the path, looking between the dead animal on the ground and your retreating form, his face a spectacular mix of utter bewilderment and absolute, smitten defeat.
“Humans make no sense,” he muttered loudly, though a massive, helpless smile was finally breaking across his face as he hauled the kill back up.
Since you have already made him understood the concept of dating, you have instituted an intense making-out policy that definitely shouldn't have been part of the official manual, but you casually told him you were merely ‘exploring your avatar body's sensory responses to external stimuli,’ and giving him an absolute green light to do whatever he wanted.
But of course, the pretense didn’t mean anything at all, now that you were deep in the woods, sitting directly on his lap, straddling his waist and devouring his mouth. His large hands were everywhere, squeezing your waist with a firm, desperate grip before sliding up to fondle your breasts, while your hands locked around his neck, pulling him closer. You were kissing like you wanted to completely consume each other, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
You shifted your hips against him, a loud, breathless moan spilling from your throat as the solid, heavy ridge of his arousal pressed firmly against your softness through the thin fabric of your loincloth. You have known that being in your avatar and experiencing this kind of sheer intensity from a physical friction makes your body react exactly as you would have as a human, and it was incredible.
“Yawne...” he groaned deeply, allowing you to hump against him, but the sheer stimulation obviously weakened him.
Neteyam leaned his back heavily against the trunk of the tree, throwing his head back as his eyes closed in pure bliss. He kept his mouth glued to yours, but his entire focus had zeroed in on the spot where his hardness is repeatedly meeting your soft mound.
You pulled your mouth away to catch your breath, and a low, needy moan escaped his lips. You smiled, sliding your mouth down to kiss his sharp jawline, nipping at the exposed skin of his neck, and enjoying the way he’s whimpering. You shifted your hips again and again, a sudden, shivering wave of a climax ripping straight through you. You hugged him tightly, hiding your face in his shoulder as your kisses against his neck became wet and sloppy.
He held you firmly, his grip tightening as he maneuvered your body down onto the soft grass. Your sight spun for a moment as you looked up at the canopy, your breath hitching as Neteyam leaned down to kiss and suck hungrily at your breasts. You reached up to grab his shoulders, but he caught your hands, intertwining his long fingers securely with yours, using his other hand to firmly slide your loincloth aside.
The cool air made direct contact with your slick wetness, causing you to shiver, but the chill vanished instantly as you felt his warm mouth press directly against your center.
“Oh!” you moaned aloud, bringing your free hand up to bite down on your knuckles as his tongue began to rhythmically lick and suck at your sensitive flesh.
Your chest heaved rapidly, your mind completely spinning as he continued to pleasurably devour you. The sensation was so intense you were literally shaking, your hips bucking instinctively against his mouth. Neteyam squeezed your thighs tightly, holding you perfectly in place, refusing to let you pull away until it left you completely limp and breathless.
He slowly kissed his way back up your body, hovering over you with a soft, triumphant smile as he caught your lips in a gentle kiss.
“Come back to Hometree with me tonight,” he whispered against your mouth, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.
You blinked up at him lazily, your tail twitching as shivers ran down your spine. “What are they cooking tonight?” you asked, your voice a breathless rasp.
When he told you they were roasting the exact sweet-root and river fish dish you had obsessed over the week before, your resolve crumbled instantly. You smoothed down your hair, adjusted your feathered top, and walked back to Hometree right beside him.
When you arrived, the communal area was already humming with its usual evening life. Over the last moon, the people of the clan had slowly gotten used to the sight of you walking side-by-side with Neteyam. At first, the warriors had kept their distance, watching with guarded eyes, knowing how Neteyam is with you. But seeing how you still have your relentless, bright energy with you, and that Neteyam isn’t really barring any of them from speaking to you, your friendship with them became more permanent.
That didn't mean the council was happy, though.
As you and Neteyam walked toward your seats, you could feel the heavy glares radiating from their circles. You know from the warriors that Maneya’s parents deeply disapproved of this. For generations, traditional arrangements kept the clan’s bloodlines strong and predictable. The elders had been aggressively pushing for Maneya to be his mate before the next season turned. To them, an avatar, a dreamwalker who isn’t even real, was an insult to their customs.
And let’s not talk about the fact that their Olo’eyktan was once a dreamwalker himself.
Neteyam felt the weight of those stares, but his jaw only set firmer. He guided you to the table of warriors he knew would defend you when he’s not around, ensuring you got the best cut of the roasted river fish before he excused himself, noting that his father had signaled for him near the upper dais.
Neytiri sat beside Jake, her sharp eyes tracing the silhouette of her eldest son as he approached.
“Neteyam,” Jake said, his voice quiet but carrying the heavy weight of a man who had just spent two hours listening to old men complain. “The council is still talking. Maneya’s family is pushing hard for the betrothal announcement. They want a firm answer before the next hunt.”
Neytiri stepped forward, her hand resting gently on her son’s shoulder, her gaze searching his face. “Son... are you entirely sure of this? The path you are choosing is not walked on smooth stones. She is... She does not belong with us—”
“Like Dad used to not belong?” Neteyam asked.
Neytiri tilted her head. “That is different,” she replied.
“Mother, it’s not,” he looked down at his mother, his expression softening but remaining completely unyielding. “And I am sure of her,” he added, his deep, gravelly voice carrying a profound certainty that made both of his parents still. “My whole life, I have done exactly what was expected of me. I trained until my fingers bled, I flew the sky lines and led the patrols before I was a boy of thirteen years. I was willing to follow everything you, the council, and the elders told me to do because I thought that was what a leader must be.”
He paused, his eyes drifting across to where you were sitting. You were currently mid-sentence, aggressively gesturing with a piece of sweet-root while your friends laughed loudly at whatever ridiculous story you were telling. A soft, breathless warmth passed over Neteyam’s features.
“But until her, I never chose anything for myself,” he continued, turning back to his parents. “I realized that if I allow people who do not understand my heart to decide my future, I will never be the leader this clan needs. I cannot lead a people with a hollowed being. She is what makes my heart happy. She is who I see in my future, and even if it is difficult, even if it is a mess of two worlds... I would not have it any other way. I want her, and I will keep her. I already have her, and I will not let anyone take her away from me.”
Jake let out a low breath, a small smirk of pure pride cutting through his mouth. He clapped a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. He recognized that exact, stubborn reckless look. He had worn it himself years ago. Neytiri herself had a streak of it years ago.
Neytiri watched her son, her ears twitching slightly. She looked at the determination in his posture, the fierce fire in his eyes, and despite the lingering complications, her own heart swelled with an undeniable pride. He’s no longer a boy. He was a man taking his destiny by the throat. He was a true leader.
“Go to her, then,” Neytiri murmured softly, the corner of her lips pulling into a gentle smile.
Neteyam nodded respectfully to his parents and turned, walking back down toward your table. The moment he stepped back into your peripheral vision, you looked up from your meal, flashing him a smile so bright, so full of life, that his heart did a violent, fluttering flip against his ribs.
From the dais, Jake reached out and took Neytiri’s hand in his own. Neytiri turned her head to look at her husband, squeezing his hand as an understanding smile passed between them. Her son had made his choice, and she believed in her son.
Neteyam slid onto the mat right next to you, his long arm immediately circling around your waist to pull you tightly against his side, entirely indifferent to the whispering elders above.
“Miss me, lover boy?” you teased, nudging his ribs with your elbow.
“Always,” he murmured against your ear, his grip tightening as he stole a piece of your sweet-root, his heart completely at peace.
After the feast, while you were contentedly wiping your hands, Neteyam stood up and smoothly announced, “I am walking her back to the facilities.”
He did walk you. But along the way, his hand tightened around yours, and the path you were taking led to a different one.
“Remember when you asked me about... the collective consciousness of our people?” he asked, but you were already too mesmerized by the bioluminescent weeping willow glowing purple from the distance.
“Yes,” you breathed. “That is the Tree of Souls, right?”
He held your hand and pulled you closer until you two were under its tendrils. “The collective consciousness you were talking about... I don’t understand the technicality, but it is true. Everything we are, everything we know... is in this tree,” he touched a tendril. “Our ancestors and our dead, they are here and they are never gone. They live with us in every plant and every leaf. This tree has witnessed every moment in our lives since we were born and it will keep them in this world long after we are gone.”
A soft smile cut through your lips as hot tears pricked your eyes. “That is beautiful, Neteyam... Dr. Augustine was right. She was right about everything,” you breathed, touching a glowing tendril before you turned to him.
Neteyam stepped closer, the pulsing light from the hanging tendrils illuminating the profound, worshipful softness in his eyes. He reached out, his thumb gently catching the stray tear that escaped your lashes.
“I brought you here because I want Eywa to know I am grateful that she heard me,” he whispered, carrying a solemn weight that made your breath catch. “I want my ancestors to know that my heart belongs to you. No council, no tradition, not even who you are will change that.”
Your face crumpled as your heart swelled with raw emotion, his words completely shattering whatever remaining inhibitions you had. You smiled through the tears, gathering him in your arms and wrapping them tightly around him. “My heart belongs to you, too, Neteyam. This heart and the human heart,” you chuckled, making him smile.
You leaned up and caught his lips in a deep kiss. Neteyam let out a low, gravelly rumble, his hands instantly locking onto your waist and lifting you up slightly, pinning your back flat against the massive, smooth root of the glowing tree.
“Oh,” you gasped, a wicked little smirk flashing on your face despite your breath hitching. “Look at you. Someone’s getting aggressive...”
He groaned as his head dipped, his lips abandoning your mouth to trail a path of hot, heavy kisses down your jawline and into the dip of your neck. He nipped playfully at your skin, making you shiver and giggle all at once.
His hands slid from your face, down your shoulders, his long, deft fingers untying the bindings of your top, making you raise a brow. The soft fabric fell away, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his incredibly dark, hungry gaze.
“Okay,” you whispered as his mouth closed over one peak, suckling hungrily. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his thick braids, pulling him closer. “Okay...”
He pulled back, his golden eyes burning. “Tell me what you want, my love,” he commanded gently. “Tell me how you want it.”
“I want to feel all of you inside me,” you breathed.
He smirked, standing up straighter and reaching behind him. You blinked and swallowed, watching the pink tendrils of his kuru dance as he held it up. His head tilted.
“Not happening without this,” he murmured.
You looked at him with wide eyes. “The bond... We will be—”
“Mates. I will be yours, for life,” he licks his lips. “and you will be mine. For life.” This time, his eyes darkened significantly.
A soft smile cut through your lips, reaching behind you to grab the thick plait of braid and bring it between you. “I think I want that...”
He swallowed and nodded, but he looked like he was going to melt. He held your hand and pulled you down, and once you were both kneeling under the purple glow of the Tree of Souls, he brought his kuru to bind with yours, sending an instantaneous jolt of electricity down your spine that spread through your limbs.
You have never made a bond with any creature on Pandora. You didn’t know what your kuru could do or give you if you connected it to any living being, but the rush of emotions through the bond is an unexplainable phenomenon that not even a scientist like you could come up with words for. You were feeling the absolute weight of his devotion, how you now his entire world, anchored to his soul forever.
You stared up at Neteyam and watched the gold of his eyes got nearly swallowed by the black. You smiled as the warmth of the memory of the first time he ever saw you surged through the bond, his secret admiration, and the quiet moments he spent hoping for this exact night.
This is insane, you thought. This is more than what any human would ever experience. You moved closer to him, reaching for his face and he leaned down to kiss you, wrapping his arm around you while his other hand fumbled with the ties of your loincloth around your tail. Once it’s off and you’re naked as the day you were successfully-made-and-put-in-an-amnio-tank, he lowered you down on the grass.
With a primal glint in his gaze, Neteyam pushed himself up over you, and you were treated to the view of the broad expanse of his shoulder and chest. You bit your lip as you watched him strip his own loincloth away. Your eyes snapped down when his cock sprang free, a powerful and thick column of dark indigo, engorged, and pulsing with heavy life.
Your jaw literally dropped as you stared down, your brain temporarily short-circuiting at the sheer scale of it. “Oh, sweet Lord,” you blurted out, your eyes widening as his large hand grabbed your thigh. “Hold on, timeout!” He stopped and looked at you. You bit your lip, “We need to slow down. Neteyam, honey, this body is technically a virgin and she has not trained to take an absolute monster like that! Are you trying to split her in half?”
Neteyam blinked, a sudden, hilariously confused expression fracturing his fierce look. “A... monster?” He looked down at himself, then back at you, his ears twitching in genuine bewilderment. “Yawne, it is... normal. I am normal.”
“For a nine-foot-tall, maybe!” you chuckled, though you were already biting your lip, your tail thumping against the grass excitedly as you spread your legs for him, “Alright. Go big or go home!”
He let out a breathless laugh, the sweet, adoring man returning for a fraction of a second as he gently pushed you back onto the soft grass. He hovered over you, positioning himself between your legs, his cock brushing against your slick folds and making you gasp.
“Look at me, baby,” he rough-whispered. Slowly, he began to push.
The thick head found your opening, and he pressed with a gentle, patient insistence. You whimpered, your hips arching instinctively to meet him as his shaft slowly stretched you inch by inch until he was buried completely to the hilt.
You trembled, a deep, incredibly satisfying fullness making your head spin. He paused, letting you adjust, his eyes never leaving yours as his large hands tenderly cradled your face.
“Good?” he murmured, kissing you softly.
“Yes,” you panted against his lips, your nails digging into his muscular shoulders.
He began to move with slow, deliberate thrusts, pulling almost entirely out before plunging back in. Your hips rose rhythmically to meet his, his hand locked around one of your thighs to spread you wider.
“Oh, baby,” you commanded, your voice raw. “Faster.”
He obeyed instantly. His thrusts gained a powerful, forceful momentum, his hips slamming against yours. Your breathless moans mingled with his deep, guttural grunts of pleasure. He picked up the pace, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his entire body straining with the sweet effort of pleasing you.
“I’m going to come,” you cried out, your vision blurring with white sparks.
Neteyam smiled, a primal, satisfied grin breaking across his face. He pulled back just enough to torment you, then drove back in with a powerful, precise angle that hit your sweetest spot dead-on. A loud whimper tore from your throat as your body completely seized. A violent orgasm ripped through you, your walls clenching tightly around his cock, milking him fiercely. You bucked and writhed beneath him, completely undone.
Holding you tight, Neteyam rode you over the wave of your climax, his own release building rapidly. With a final, guttural roar, he emptied his heavy warmth deep inside you, his body shuddering violently as he collapsed gently onto you, his chest heaving, his heart hammering wildly against your own.
You lay there for a long time, completely breathless, the scent of the jungle and sex heavy in the air. His cock, still buried inside you, pulsed gently as you felt the warm wetness of his seed filling you.
You let out a weak, shaky giggle, your fingers weakly patting his arm. “Okay... experiment concluded. Avatar structural integrity successfully maintained. Ten out of ten, Commander.”
Neteyam let out a soft, exhausted chuckle against your neck, kissing his way up to your lips to give you a tender, deeply sweet kiss. “Glad to hear that,” he mumbled. “I love you so much.
You stared up at him with bright eyes, grinning at him. “I love you, Neteyam.”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The link unit let out a loud, sharp hiss as soon as you are back in your body. You breathed in the slightly metallic air, your heart beating rhythmically against your ribs as you let what just happened sink in. You mated with Neteyam. You are bounded to him forever, and you know it.
Before you could even fully stretch your cramped limbs, you heard the heavy footsteps of what you know belong to the military. You rolled your eyes when three soldiers, clad in full tactical gear, appeared near your link unit.
“Jesus... do you guys ever knock? Or do they just teach you how to kick down doors at Bridgehead basic training?”
The soldier in the center stepped right up to the edge of the link bed. “You've been under for fourteen hours straight, brainiac. For someone who claims to be locked up in a dungeon by the local savages, we've noticed you log into your avatar for an awful lot of hours. Day in, day out. The data logs from this shack are lighting up the grid like a Christmas tree.”
You pulled yourself to sit up, looking at him and letting your face twist into an expression of sheer, unadulterated exhaustion. A mask you had perfected over the last months.
“Yeah, Miller, it's called survival,” you snapped, your voice raspy as you reached for a bottle of water on the side table. “I'm trying to keep the avatar alive. Those people are still feeding the damn thing, alright? They haven't chopped its head off yet because they think it's a harmless and pathetic. If I don't log back in there regularly, if I don't keep up the act of being their perfect captive, it's going to die. And then this multi-billion-dollar asset becomes completely useless to the company. Do you want to explain that loss to the board?”
Miller narrowed his eyes, leaning down until his exopack hissed near your face. “Then why the need for this relocation? If you're not hiding anything, why did you insist on moving your entire setup out to the mountains? This shack used to be within standard radius. Now you're out here in the fog.”
“Because your surveillance is loud, stupid, and they do nothing but intimidate the ones who are actually working to advance what Earth knows about this world,” you replied.
Miller sneered, but before he could step any closer, Dr. Danel stepped forward, his sharp, weathered face set in a furious glare as he planted herself directly between the soldiers and your link unit.
“That is enough, Corporal!” he said. “πou have no right to come into this facility and strong-arm us. The research division is not under the jurisdiction of General Ardmore's immediate military arm. We operate under a separate corporate charter, and I am reminding you,right now, that we are here to research, not submit to your paranoia!”
The two soldiers behind Miller shifted their weight, but Danel didn't back down an inch. He pointed a finger directly at Miller’s chest.
“Other scientists have also requested independent outposts precisely because of this toxic, suffocating surveillance from the military,” Danel continued, her chest heaving. “You are disrupting research critical for the corporation. Now, back off.”
You took the cue, leaning forward and putting on a sad face. “And that recom you guys keep talking about? He's probably dead. I've never heard of him again. In fact, the last time I saw the Na’vis pass through the lower cells, they were carrying his gear. He was shot by a heavy arrow directly to the chest. He definitely couldn't have survived that.” You let your voice crack, squeezing your eyes shut as if the memory was too painful to bear. “My avatar is surviving in a hard, cold, dark, and lonely place, Miller. You don't know what it's like for me right now. Every time I open my eyes in that body, I am surrounded by nine-foot-tall killers. I'm doing my job. What are you doing besides giving me a headache?”
From the corner of the lab, Marco immediately stepped up, patting your back with massive, exaggerated sweeps of his hand, nodding at Miller with an expression of deep, solemn sympathy. “Yeah, man. Leave her alone. Cut her some slack.”
Miller stared at you before finally letting out a harsh breath through his nose and took a step back.
“We'll be back to check the logs again next week,” Miller said, his voice dropping into a low threat. “If we find out you're doing anything other than counting leaves out here, General Ardmore will have you back in a brig at Bridgehead before sunset. Let's move out.”
The soldiers turned on their heels, exiting the shack with the same aggressive energy they had entered with. The heavy metal door slammed shut, the lock clicking into place with.
Marco immediately dropped his hands from your shoulders, letting out a massive breath. “Holy shit... that was an insane clutch, Y/N. Seriously, my heart was in my throat,” he said. “What took you so long out there? You know you can't keep this lie up for long, right? They're going to cross-reference the log feeds eventually.”
You dropped your head into your hands, your messy hair falling over your face. A deep, heavy sigh racked your small frame. “I know, Marco. I know, and... and... and...“
Dr. Danel adjusted his glasses, his eyes sharp as he looked down at your confused face. “What's going on, kid? You look like you're about to throw up.”
You bit your dry lip, slowly raising your head to look at them sheepishly. Your face felt hot, a deep flush spreading across your cheeks that had absolutely nothing to do with the link. “I... I mated with Neteyam.”
You watched their faces at the silence stretched
Marco blinked, then his jaw dropped low. “Jake Sully’s son is named Neteyam?!” he yelped.
“Jesus, what?” Dr. Danel said at the exact same time.
“Yes, his name’s Neteyam,” you told Marco, your voice squeaking slightly as you tried to look anywhere but at Dr. Danel’s gaze.
Marco burst into a sudden, loud chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s probably a Na’vi version of Nathan—”
“Right?!” you laughed, the sheer absurdity of the situation breaking through your panic. “I told him once that he looks like a Nathan! And his brother’s named Lo’ak. That's like Luke or—”
“Kid, listen to me,” Dr. Danel interrupted, his voice cutting through the laughter you were sharing with Marco, and he didn't look amused. In fact, his face had gone completely pale. “You mated with Jake Sully’s son? The firstborn?”
“Yes...” you said, your voice dropping into a small, sheepish whisper. You rubbed the back of your neck. “We... we made the bond. Under the Tree of Souls.”
Dr. Danel took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a look of profound gravity. “We can't stay here,” he said flatly.
“W-why?” you asked. “We're safe out here in the ridge, aren't we? The military barely wants to fly through the vortex fields.“
“Y/N, the Na’vi mate for life. You are his wife,” Dr. Danel said, looking at you with an intensity that made you realize the full weight of what you had done. “You cannot be his wife for only half a day and be here in a tin can for the other half. The military is out on your tail. One day soon, they will find out where you really are. And when they realize who you are to the Omatikaya now? They will use you. Or they will kill you to get to them. And that boy will not give you up.”
You bit your lip. “I really brought him trouble.”
“It could be the other way around, too. That boy has given the military a huge headache since we got back here,” he said. “He will bring them trouble. Because of you.”
You bit your lip so hard you tasted copper, your cheeks burning a violent, deep pink as the memory of Neteyam's heavy warmth and the sheer mind-melting intensity of the bond flashed through your mind. He’s so hot.
Marco narrowed his eyes at you, a teasing smirk spreading across his face as he noticed your furious blushing. He opened his mouth to make a horribly inappropriate joke about Na’vi anatomy, but he caught the look on Dr. Danel's face and remembered the severity of the situation.
“Doc, what do you mean about not staying here?” Marco asked, his tone turning serious. “Where are we supposed to go? We have tons of delicate equipment in this shack.”
“Right. Does that mean you want us to relocate directly to the Omatikaya?” you asked, your heart hammering
“Yes,” Dr. Danel answered without a single shred of hesitation. “Because you chose your life, Y/N, and we’re going to make it easy for you. We are your team. We aren't going to let the RDA turn you into a political prisoner.”
The sheer, unconditional protection in his voice brought a sudden, fierce prickle of tears to your eyes. You swallowed hard, looking at the two scientists who had become your real family on this moon.
“We need to get out of the military’s eyes altogether,” Dr. Danel continued, pacing the small width of the lab. "Disappear. I don’t see why we can’t work with Norm and Max if they'll have us. Besides, this needs to be done before the military sets their foot on our necks and keeps you hostage, which I bet will turn into something unimaginable.”
“But how?” you reasoned, gesturing around the space. “The link units are here. Our labs are here. We need everything inside this shack, we can't just leave it behind. If we disconnect the main trunk, the data will corrupt.”
“We can... we can have it airlifted,” Marco suggested, snapping his fingers. “I can ask a favor from Jason. He flies a Samson. I can bribe him with some of that real coffee we smuggled in.”
“No, we can't do that,” Dr. Danel countered immediately. “The RDA radar grid around Bridgehead tracks every single aviation signature. If a Samson flies into Omatikaya territory, they’ll trace the flight path instantly. They'll follow it right to our new doorstep.”
“Well, we can't lift a these reinforced steel container on our own, Doc,” Marco muttered, throwing his hands up. “Unless you've grown some super-strength over the weekend.“
“Wait,” you said, raising a hand, a sudden spark of an idea lighting up your brain. “I... I can talk to Neteyam. Norm and Max were already asking me to stay permanently at the human facilities. I think they'd like more brains there anyway.”
By the morrow, you’re back lying down onto the soft gel pad of the link unit and the smell of sweet, crushed moss of the forest rushed into your lungs. You opened your eyes to the sight of the crystal-like long tendrils of the Tree of Souls gently swaying above you. You felt insanely warm, feeling the heavy arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling your back flush against a broad, smooth chest that rumbled with every slow, deep breath.
Neteyam was still asleep, his nose buried deep in the crook of your neck. His tail was loosely coiled around your thigh, a subconscious anchor that held you tight even in his dreams. You shifted slightly, a breathless sigh escaping your lips as the movement instantly woke him.
Neteyam’s ears twitched, rising slowly as his golden eyes blinked open, dark and heavy with sleep. The moment he realized you were awake, a soft, incredibly tender smile broke across his beautiful features. He didn't say a word at first; he just tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single inch of air between your bodies. He dipped his head, pressing a warm kiss directly against your jawline.
“Morning,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated straight through your skin. Through the bond, you could feel the huge ball of warmth in his chest as he hugged you closer, but he also felt the sharp prick of your anxiety. He pushed himself up on his elbow to look at you. “What’s wrong?”
You turned around in his arms so you could look at him. You reached up, your long finger gently tracing the strong line of his jaw. “The— the soldiers. They came to the shack... They are uspicious over the time I'm spending in this body.”
His eyes darkened instantly, the sleepy softness vanishing, replaced by a fierce, cold steel. He sat up, his back muscles flexing. “Did they hurt you?”
“No, no,” you quickly reassured him, pulling him back down by his neck until his forehead rested against yours. “Dr. Danel and Marco stopped them. But Dr. Danel is right... we can't stay there anymore. If we stay, they'll find out I'm with you. They'll use me to get to you.”
His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “I will not let them touch you. They can’t just do that, they can’t threaten you like that anytime they want. We will relocate your outpost near here.”
“That's the problem,” you sighed, your tail twitching nervously against the grass. “If we relocate, we can't use a human helicopter. The military will track the flight path.”
His head tilted, an amused smirk on his lips. “A Samson is not the only thing that can lift a metal box, yawne.”
You blinked, your own head tilting in question.
“Toruk,” Neteyam said simply. “We must talk to Norm.”
So almost an hour of walk later, you were back at the human facilities with Neteyam standing behind you as you talk to Norm.
“The military just raided our outpost last night. They saw my log-in hours and apparently, it doesn’t look like the log-in hours of someone locked up in a dungeon,” you told him. “Dr. Danel wants to pull the plug and relocate us... here. But we have no way to transport the link shacks without the RDA tracking the Samson’s flight path..“
Norm’s expression shifted from tired to completely alert in a split second. “I knew Ardmore was going to tighten the leash. If they catch you—”
“They won’t,” Neteyam cut in. “We have a way to move their shacks.”
“But, Norm, I need to know if you have space for two more scientists... Danel and Marco are coming with me.”
“The demon we had the day Y/N came in was dead. He did not survive his wound. But the soldiers will use his ghost to hunt my mate. We must bring her people into the safety of our lands."
Your brows furrowed when Norm’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and Neteyam. “Did... did he just say mate?” Norm sputtered. “Y/N... you are mated with Neteyam?”
Neteyam’s hand snaked around your waist. “Yes. She is my mate,” he confirmed.
Norm let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Wow. Okay. Holy shit, Jake is going to have a stroke... wait, no, Jake actually predicted this, didn't he? Alright, all the more reason you need to be relocated immediately and you can be relocated here. I’ll talk to Jake.”
You let out a massive sigh of relief, your shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, Norm...”
“There is no trouble to forgive, kid,” Norm said, his expression softening into something genuinely protective. “You’ve been part of this family since you got those neural emulation codes working. Now that the tech is almost replicated, we’ve tested it for defensive patrols and it’s brilliant. You are as much a part of this resistance as any of us. And I bet you got some sweet new tech at that outpost?”
You grinned, your tail swishing with a sudden spark of pride. “Oh, we do, Norm. A whole shack of it. State-of-the-art RDA research tech we ‘forgot’ to catalog during the evacuation.”
“Perfect,” Norm grinned back. “Get your people ready. I'm going to find Jake.”
The longhouse of the Omatikaya council was an intimidating place.
When you and Neteyam entered, the atmosphere was already thick with tension. Jake Sully stood at the center, while Neytiri stood just behind him, her arms crossed over her chest. The clan elders, including Maneya's father, were gathered in a semi-circle, their faces hard and unyielding.
Norm had already briefed Jake, and the Olo’eyktan didn't waste any time.
“Y/N’s people are coming here,“ Jake announced, his eyes sweeping across the elders. “She provided us with critical intelligence, and their new technology will help us protect our borders even further. We are going to move their shacks near the human facilities.”
Instantly, an older, scarred warrior named Elder Karin stood up, his tail lashing with anger. “Toruk Makto... you allow too much sky people presence in this clan! First your dreamwalker friends, then this one who wanders our camp like a pet. Now you wish to bring more of their metal boxes into our grounds? It will put our people in jeopardy should these sky people decide to betray us to their soldiers!”
You took a step forward, the urge to defend your people fiercer than your fear. “We won’t do that, Elder Karin. We resent the military—”
“And who allowed you to speak here, dreamwalker?” a harsh voice boomed from the side of the circle. It was Maneya’s father, a warrior whose chest was covered in scars. He glared down at you as if you were an insect. “You have no voice here.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but Neteyam stepped in front of you, his entire posture shifted, his broad shoulders blocking you from the warrior's view with his towering height.
“She is allowed to speak,” Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a calm, gravelly register. He looked directly at Maneya’s father, his eyes flashing. “Y/N is my mate.”
Several elders gasped, their ears twitching violently in shock. Maneya's father stiffened, his hands clenching into fists as a low, furious hiss started in his throat. You turned your head slightly, your eyes widening in sheer panic as you stared up at Neteyam. You hadn't expected him to drop the bomb right now, in front of the entire governing body of the clan.
“I will vouch for her and her people,” Neteyam continued, his voice ringing through the cavernous space with absolute authority. “If she or they happen to betray the clan... you’ll have my head.”
“Neteyam!” both you and Neytiri shouted at the exact same time.
Your hand shot out, pressing flat against his warm chest, your fingers trembling. “Neteyam, stop, don't say that—”
He kept his eyes locked on the elders, though, his chest expanding under your palm as he took a deep breath. “I’m going to put it out there, and I mean it,” he said, his voice softening just enough for them to hear the absolute, unyielding devotion behind it. “I am not an idiot who made my choice based on petty reasons. I know who I mated with, and I will stand by my decision. Even if it costs me my life.”
Your shoulder slumped as you let out a shuddering breath. You hated the fact that your presence, your identity as a dreamwalker, was bringing this much turmoil to the man you loved. You felt like an anchor dragging him down into the mud of clan politics.
But before you could spiral into your own head, a hand covered yours where it rested on Neteyam’s chest.
You looked up, startled and saw Neytiri’s eyes on you. She squeezed your hand against her son's chest, making your heart leap into your throat. She looked back up at the council, her spine straightening as she stood by her son.
Jake Sully looked at the council. “My son made his choice.”
Jake’s decision and order were rock solid, and a few hours later, you were already riding behind Neteyam on his ikran, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso. But as you broke through the cloud cover, a massive, towering shadow loomed over the entire valley.
You looked up and saw the massive, red-and-orange beast flying through the mist, its wingspan wide enough to shadow an entire valley. Perched atop it was Jake Sully. Toruk had lifted heavy equipment before, back when the clan evacuated to High Camp years ago, and Jake knew exactly how to rig the cargo straps to the container's reinforced corner castings.
Neteyam landed his ikran smoothly on the cliff edge outside your shack. The moment his feet touched the ground, the door to the outpost opened, and Dr. Danel and Marco stepped out, both wearing their exopacks. Dr Danel stopped dead in his tracks, his lips parting slightly as he looked up at the massive form of Toruk settling onto the ridge above them. “My God... I read the reports, but seeing that thing in person... it's terrifying,” he whispered, completely starstruck.
Marco, meanwhile, was looking at you. He walked up to you, a massive grin on his face. “Oh, thank God, your avatar’s really safe," he said, reaching out to give you a huge hug. “You talk to us every day from the box, but seeing the blue version of you here is great!”
Before he could reach you, though, a large hand gently but firmly pulled you back by your elbow by just half an inch. You looked at Neteyam and saw his ears tilted slightly back, his eyes tracking Marco with a quiet, possessive intensity.
You burst out laughing, holding Neteyam’s hand. “He’s one of the scientists I’m working with. He’s like Norm,” you told him, giving him a reassuring smile.
Neteyam’s ears came back up, though his hand is now firmly anchored to your waist. He nodded once to Marco. “I am Neteyam.”
Marco looked up at the nine-foot-tall warrior, his eyes tracking from Neteyam’s broad chest down to where his hand was squeezing your waist. “N-Nice to meet you, man. I’m Marco.”
“We need to move quickly,” Jake called. Dr. Danel was already talking to him and the warriors who were in company.
They all worked together to tie the heavy cables around the container's main chassis, while you stepped inside the shack log out of your avatar, laying down on your designated bed and closing your eyes as Marco initiated the remote sleep sequence. Within minutes, the world faded to black.
A sharp hiss echoed in the shack as it depressures and you opened your eyes to Marco pulling the neural cap off your smaller head. You moved your fingers and toes, pulling yourself up. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a dark monitor screen. Your hair was a mess and your skin looked slightly pale from the lack of sunlight.
“Marco,” you muttered, fixing your top. “Do I look okay? Or do I look like a swamp monster that's been living in a basement for three weeks?”
Marco rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might clip into the back of his skull. “I don't think that man out there is going to care about your split ends, Y/N. The guy is completely head over heels for you.”
“Yeah, he's head over heels for the avatar,” you sighed, finger-combing your hair before wearing your own exopack. “He hasn't seen this version. The human who needs a plastic bubble just to breathe his air.”
“Oh, please. If he survived your personality in the blue body, he can handle your hair in this one,” Marco scoffed, punching the final release valve on the container's seals. “Let's go. They're waiting.”
The heavy metal door hissed open, and you stepped, the wind whipping around your hair as you clutched the straps of your exopack. Dr. Danel and Marco were already walking toward the two Omatikaya warriors who had volunteered to carry them on their ikrans. Neteyam, however, was standing right near the edge, finishing a quiet conversation with his father.
But the moment the door shut behind you, his eyes were on you. You stopped walking for a moment, feeling small standing there in your human clothes and the clear plastic mask covering your face. You raised your hand and gave him a little wave as you grinned mischievously.
Neteyam didn't move for a long moment, just standing there, his eyes wide, his gaze trained entirely on your face even as you walked up to him. He looked like he had just been dropped into a trance, peering down through the dark fringe of his long lashes, his eyes scanning every single detail of your features.
You cleared your throat. “Look at that height difference. It's ridiculous. Are you going to need a magnifying glass just to talk to me now, Commander?”
Jake Sully let out a loud laugh as he adjusted Toruk's harness. “That we can agree on. The height difference is a killer. Thankfully, my time only lasted like three seconds.”
Dr. Danel called out your name, waving you over to where the other warriors were preparing for takeoff. He and Jake walked toward the edge to supervise the final cable tension, leaving you and Neteyam alone on the platform.
“Why are you so silent?” you whispered, looking up at him. “Is it weird?”
Neteyam blinked, as if finally snapping out of whatever spell he was under. He shook his head, his ears tilting forward. “It is not weird,” he whispered, his deep voice carrying a soft, breathy reverence that made your stomach do a violent flip. “It is just... y-you are so beautiful, Y/N. In this body, too.”
A massive smirk broke through your face. “Will it be too cocky of me to say I already know that?” you whispered back.
Neteyam’s eyes narrowed playfully, a familiar, beautiful warmth returning to his expression. “Since when did you ever care about not being cocky, my love?”
You giggled, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his hand. He pulled you gently toward where his ikran was waiting, the large mountain banshee tracking your small movement with its sharp, intelligent eyes.
“Wow... everything out here is just so incredibly big,” you muttered, looking up at the towering wings of the banshee, then up at Toruk hovering above. Then, your head snapped back to Neteyam. “didn't specifically mean you, by the way! But... I mean, you're included in that observation.”
Neteyam let out a low, gravelly chuckle, and before you could even register what he was doing, his massive hands spanned your waist. With a single, effortless lift, he plopped you right on top of the ikran’s leather saddle.
“Oh, no! Neteyam, wait!” you shrieked, your hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth leather. “What if he decides to fly off with just me?!”
“I am right here,” he murmured, mounting behind you as he made the bond. He leaned forward, his massive chest pressing flush against your back, completely enveloping your smaller body in his warmth.
Above you, Toruk shook the rocks beneath the ridge with a massive sweep of its wings, surging upward into the fog, effortlessly lifting the metal shack into the air like it was a children's toy.
Neteyam’s ikran leaped off the ridge, plunging straight into the open sky. Your hands clamped onto Neteyam's thick, muscular forearm as it wrapped around you like a seatbelt.
“Is it tight enough?” he whispered, his deep, gravelly voice buzzing directly against your ear.
You felt a sudden, hot shiver run straight down your spine. Your mind instantly went somewhere incredibly inappropriate, remembering the way that exact same voice had sounded against your skin under the Tree of Souls the night before. You internally scolded yourself, but it didn't change the fact that your heart was pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with gravity.
“Y-yes...” you muttered, leaning back into his massive chest.
He pulled your significantly smaller body completely against his torso, shielding you from the crosswinds. The flight into the territories of the Omatikaya was fortunately uneventful, with Toruk delivering the link shacks safely into the deep part of the forest, right adjacent to the human facilities.
The moment you arrived, Norm and a handful of other scientists were waiting on the reinforced catwalks. Dr. Danel immediately stepped off his warrior's ikran to greet Norm. The two of them had worked in parallel branches of the RDA research sector years and years ago, and within five minutes, they were already animatedly talking about what could be done to hasten the project you were currently working on with them.
While they were talking, you walked toward the entrance of the newly placed container shack to prepare for your log-in. Neteyam followed you, his large hand never letting go of yours as you guided him through the narrow, heavy steel door of the shack.
“This is where I live whenever I'm back in my human body. It's not exactly Hometree, but it has good air conditioning,” you grinned, gesturing around the cramped, highly advanced laboratory space.
You showed him the primary link unit, pointing to the soft gel mattress where your human body spent hours every day. You reached up, unbuckling your human exopack and handing him a recon breather mask just in case he needed to breathe his own air. He held the it with immense curiosity, his large fingers turning it over like a puzzle, telling you he really wasn’t one to spend a lot of time in the human facilities.
Neteyam walked around the small lab, his long tail sweeping carefully behind him to avoid knocking over any glass beakers or computer monitors. He was fascinated by everything, his golden eyes wide as you excitedly rambled on about your job.
“Alright, let me show you how I link back to my avatar,” you grinned, taking a step toward the link bed.
But before your foot could even touch the frame, Neteyam’s hand caught your elbow. With a gentle, effortless tug, he pulled you back toward him. He leaned against the heavy metal workbench, his massive form still towering over you even while semi-reclined.
“Don't link back yet,” he whispered, his voice dropping into that quiet, possessive register that always made your knees weak. He looked down at your small human hands, his long blue fingers gently weaving through yours. “Besides... isn't this the time allotted for your human body? The time you must rest?”
You bit your lip, looking up at him. “Yeah... it is. I just thought... well, I thought it would be better if I logged back in so I could be almost as tall as you again.” you rolled your eyes.
Neteyam let out a soft, low chuckle. His large hands moved from your fingers to your waist, his grip warm as he pulled you directly between his long legs. You stood there, completely bracketed by him.
“It does not matter,” he said softly. “I really like this version, too. You are... very cute.”
“Cute?!” you gasped, your eyes as you let out a defensive chuckle. “Excuse me, Commander, I am not a puppy! You just don't know, but for humans? I'm actually considered really hot. Like, premium tier.”
Neteyam’s playful smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening. “I can see that...” he mumbled, his voice turning hoarse as his hand on your waist caressed your curve against the fabric of your tank top. “Did... did any man back at Bridgehead tried?”
“No,” you whispered, looking directly into his intense gaze. “I'm not really fond of soldiers.”
His brow raised, his head tilting slightly in question. “No?”
You pushed your lips forward into a little pout, your small human hands pressing flat against his hard, heavily muscled abdomen. “No. But... I find I have a massive thing for nine-foot-tall blue warriors who can hit a bull's eye with a longbow even with his eyes closed. Which is so much cooler than being a trigger-happy moron with a rifle.”
Neteyam’s chest rumbled with a deep purr. You leaned your head all the way back, reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss him, and he lowered his massive head instantly, his lips crashing down onto yours with an explosive, hungry heat. He pulled you flush against his frame, his large hands anchoring you to his hips as the kiss deepened, your small human mouth completely consumed by his.
Suddenly, the heavy pneumatic door of the shack hissed open with a loud rush of air.
“Hey, Y/N, we need to calibrate the secondary—” Norm’s voice cut off instantly.
He and Dr. Danel stood in the doorway, both freezing mid-step. You immediately pushed against Neteyam’s chest, breaking the kiss and stumbling back a step, immediately starting to talk about the project. Neteyam just stood there, entirely unbothered, a smug, deeply satisfied smirk gracing his lips as he looked over your head at the two older scientists.
They had definitely seen everything they needed to see.
For the next two weeks, the human facilities became a furnace of pure, collaborative energy.
You lived with Neteyam in the hut you two share as a mated couple, slowly integrating as a member of the clan now. You sleep wrapped in his arms every single night on the soft woven mats, but during the days, you, Dr. Danel, and Marco worked tirelessly between the link shacks and the main human labs.
You stretched, waking up slowly to the sight of golden light filtering through the kelku, dappling inside the room. Neteyam's chest vibrated against your shoulders. He was holding you tightly, his arms locked around your waist, his long tail resting over your hip.
You craned your neck, pressing a soft kiss to his chin as your own tail gently curled around his thigh. “Wake up, lover boy...”
Neteyam buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he pressed a kiss against your soft skin. He pulled himself up, pulling you in for a deep kiss. “I’ll walk you to the shack.”
You pushed your lips forward, “You have morning patrol,” you reminded him.
“Which wouldn’t be for an hour,” he reasoned, grabbing your loincloth near you and pulling the soft covers off your naked body. “Do we have time?” he asked, dipping his head low to start kissing your jaw.
“No, Commander. No, we don’t,” you said sweetly, kissing his cheek as you grabbed your top.
He groaned, pressing his nose against your neck as he hugged you. “If they want me out there, they’ll need to perfume the air with your smell because I’ve been needing a day with just this,” he drawled, kissing your neck.
“Other things can be done, you know...” you whispered, pushing yourself up on your elbow and gathering your hair.
He lifted his head up, his hot gaze dropping down to you licking your lips.
An hour later, you were standing in the lab with Dr. Danel, Norm, Max, and the other scientists. Jake Sully came the moment Norm called him to see the finish product of what you all have worked on in the past months. Jake held up a small, heavily modified metallic strip between his fingers.
“Alright. I understand that the emulator we brought Y/N months ago will help us hide our tracks during raids... This will do that?”
Norm nodded, “Yes. We managed to reverse-engineer the emulation codes. The raiding party could wear these tags, and when they hit the weapon’s transports, the sensor perimeters would send out a false-positive loop back to Bridgehead. To their automated automated tracking systems, we will be friends, not foes.”
Jake nodded. “This is a game changer, Norm, Y/N, Max,” he said. “We’ll try this in the next raid.”
“Jake, there isn’t a hundred-percent guarantee that it would work but we have tried running tests,” Max told him.
Jake shrugs, “It could make a difference or it could not. Besides, we’ve been doing the raids without this for so long, but if it works, it will be great.”
The rest of that day and the following one were spent in a whirlwind of intense preparation. The war party was mobilizing for a massive raid on an RDA weapons railcar, while Neteyam stayed back at the lab with you that evening to finalize the deployment coordinates. With Dr. Danel and Marco asleep in their own modules, you two spent the night tangled together in your avatar’s cot.
Your avatar was back at Hometree though. It’s you in your human form that he’s holding with an incredible, fragile tenderness, his massive hands mapping every curve of your smaller body as you made out in the quiet dark.
You pressed your palm against his solid chest, moaning as he deepened the kiss, sucking at your tongue. You caressed the braids on his nape, caressing his soft skin as you moved your hips against him. You two eventually fell asleep, you with your head nestled perfectly into the crook of his collarbone and him with his arms wrapped around you tightly.
The next morning, you woke up with your hair completely messy and wild. Neteyam sat up beside you, looking down at your birds-nest hair and bursting into a sudden, booming laugh.
“Oh, shut up!” you huffed, throwing a pillow at his chest. “I did ask you for a haircare secret and you didn't give me anything! You just naturally look like a supermodel while I look like a troll!”
Neteyam laughed even harder, his massive arms reaching out to scoop your body back against his chest. He buried his large face into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing warm, heavy kisses against your skin as he held you tight. “You are beautiful,” he mumbled happily. “Always.”
You prepared for the day, sitting on the soft gel of your link unit and leaning up to kiss him. “See you at Hometree, Commander,” you murmured.
“See you there, my love,” he replied.
You lay back down onto the link unit, pulling the neural cap over your head and sliding into the dark.
When your avatar opened its eyes back at Hometree, your ears picked up on the buzzing sound from the lower branches humming with intense energy. Before you could even stretched, someone suddenly bounded into the kelku, and when you looked up, you saw Tuk with her tail swishing with frantic excitement as she grabbed your large hand.
“Y/N! Come on! Come on! The war party is assembling downstairs! You have to be there!”
“Why should I be there, Tuk?” you mused with a grin, letting the young girl drag you down the winding root pathways of the tree. “I'm just the tech support.”
“Because!” she beamed, pulling you right into the center of the clearing.
The moment you stepped into the communal clearing, you saw the warriors sharpening their arrows, checking the straps on their bowstrings, and preparing their war paint. Your eyes caught Neteyam who just entered the clearing, too, his knife sheath secured in his chest and his longbow strapped across his back. The second he saw you, he walked straight through the crowd, ignoring the lingering stares of the elders. He caught your waist, pulling you tightly against him, and dipped his head to kiss you hard and deep.
Tuk giggled loudly, running up beside you two with two small clay bowls filled with thick yellow and turquoise paint. “Here! His war paint!”
You chuckled, taking the bowls from her. Neteyam pulled you into a quiet, shaded corner of the clearing, sitting down on a low ledge. You dipped your fingers into the cool, turquoise paste, carefully drawing the sharp, traditional lines across his high cheekbones and down the powerful expanse of his chest.
Neteyam watched you the entire time, his golden eyes filled with an intense, quiet devotion. As you finished the last line on his shoulder, he reached down, pressing your hand into the bright yellow paint. His eyes locked onto yours as he pressed your painted palm directly over the center of his chest, leaving a perfect yellow print of your five-fingered hand on his skin.
“My heart is your,“ he whispered.
Your chuckled, you ought to tease him for being too cheesy, but your throat tightened with emotion. You leaned up and kissed him hard. “Come home to me safe, Neteyam.”
Turns out, the raid was an absolute success.
The RFID tags worked perfectly, completely blinding the RDA’s automated sensors as the war party swooped down on the railcar, securing several crates of advanced weaponry and medical supplies without a single casualty.
That evening, the celebration at Hometree was wild and loud. Fire blazed in the center of the clearing and the sound of drums and laughter echoed through the canopy. Even Dr. Danel and Marco had come up from the labs, wearing their exopacks and socializing with the other scientists and warriors.
You danced and drank with Kiri and your friends, laughing until your sides ached, completely lost in the joy of the victory.
Suddenly, a large hand slid around your waist from behind, stealing you away from the group, his arm pulling you into a slow, rhythmic sway near the edge of the firelight. You looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you moved together to the beat of the drums.
“Aren't you going to police my schedule, Commander?” you whispered teasingly, your eyes sparkling. xAren't you going to talk about how I've been in the avatar for too many hours and need to log out now?”
“No,” Neteyam mumbled, his head dipping down until his lips brushed against your ear. “Because we are still having fun... and I want to hold my wife.”
You smirked, a wicked, playful thought lighting up your brain. You leaned up, your tongue darting out to lick at your lips. “Except... we could also have a different kind of fun back at the shack, Neteyam... with my human body.”
Neteyam’s head reared back instantly. His golden eyes widened, a sudden, intense heat flashing across his face as his ears twitched violently. “What... what are you talking about?” he mumbled, his voice dropping an entire octave.
You narrowed your eyes playfully, raising a brow. “What, you've never thought about it? Doing it while I'm in my real skin...”
“I... I did, but—... but— but I—" Neteyam stammered, his usual cool, commanding demeanor completely fracturing. He swallowed hard, his jaw tight. “No. Y/N... you are so small. I—I would not want to hurt you.”
You pulled him closer, leaning up to let your lips brush teasingly against his jaw. “Oh, we are so going to the shack right now.”
You squeezed his shoulder, brushing your fingers down his arm before intertwining your fingers with his. You pulled him toward the exit, chuckling softly when he let himself be dragged without a single shred of resistance.
You two walked down the winding wooden ramp that led down to the forest floor, and you were about to start the trek toward the human facilities on foot when Neteyam gently steered you in a different direction toward the direhorse stables.
“Wow, someone's excited,” you teased, your tail swinging in wicked loops as he swiftly freed his direhorse out from the tether.
Before you could even finish the sentence, his large hands clamped onto your waist and plopped you effortlessly onto the back of the beast, making you shriek in surprise. He then mounted the direhorse behind you, his powerful chest locking you into place as he made the bond. With a sharp command, the direhorse surged into the jungle, sprinting toward the human facilities.
When you arrived, you went into the shack and he tailed behind you. He helped you initiate the log out by depressurizing the link unit. The moment your human eyes opened, you pushed the neural cap off and sat up. Neteyam was already standing right beside the link unit, his massive, nine-foot-tall frame making the small room feel even smaller.
You grinned up at him, sliding off the gel mattress. “Oh, I can see those gears turning in your head...” you teased, stepping closer to him. Your smaller hand reached out, sliding down the smooth skin of his muscled abdomen, tracing the line down toward the lower part of his waist.
Neteyam’s hand shot out like lightning though, his large hand gently but firmly catching your wrist, stopping it. “No...” he rough-whispered, his chest heaving. “It won’t be involved, Y/N,” he widened his eyes. “It’s too dangerous for you.”
You rolled your eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Boo! Coward,” you teased, leaning your head all the way up.
Neteyam immediately leaned down even as he was still chuckling, his lips crashing onto yours with a fierce, burning intensity. He wrapped his massive arms around your back and hauled your small body clean off the unit. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs tightly around his massive, muscular torso, your fingers tangling in his thick braids as the kiss deepened, turning hard and desperately hungry.
He started walking blindly toward your curtained nook in the back of the shack, his eyes closed as he consumed your mouth. A loud noise echoed as Neteyam’s head hit the corner of a storage cupboard. He winced, letting out a sharp grunt as his ears pinned back in irritation as he lowered you down onto your mattress.
You broke the kiss, your brows furrowed in worry as you caressed his head. “Are you okay?” you asked, looking at the cupboard. “Be careful, baby...” you leaned up to press soft kisses on the side of his lips. “Hm?”
His groan vibrated in his chest as he hovered over you, his massive frame blocking out the light for you as his head dipped back down. He kissed your jawline, his lips trailing down to nip playfully at the soft skin of your neck, making you squeal and squirm beneath him.
You two kissed and kissed, the heat between you rising rapidly. You reached down, catching his massive hand from where it rested on your waist, and guided it upward, placing his large palm directly over your breast.
“When are you going to touch them?” you mumbled against his lips.
Neteyam let out a deep, guttural groan. His massive hand, which easily covered your entire breast, cupped the ample curve through your tank top. He squeezed it with a careful pressure and a moan escaped your throat, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you kissed him harder.
Suddenly, he pulled his head back, his eyes wide with genuine awe as he kneaded your chest. “It... it is so soft,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. He brought his other hand up, carefully cupping and kneading both of your breasts through the fabric. “Your skin...is like silk.”
You smiled, your hips arching slightly as you reached down, pulling the hem of your tank top up and sliding it over your head, tossing it onto the floor. You heard Neteyam take in a ragged breath, his eyes locking onto your chest before he kissed the swell of it
“Come on!” you whisper-shouted. “You didn't even appreciate my lace bra! I wore the fancy one!”
Neteyam blinked, his head tilting in complete confusion. “Your... what?”
You pushed his massive chest back gently, sitting up slightly and arched your back. A hungry, predatory look were on his eyes as his gaze caressed your body.
“This is the equivalent of a really banging top right now. It’s really sexy,” you mumbled.
A low, dark chuckle escaped his lips. You reached for the latch in the center of your chest, unclasping it and freeing your breasts completely. You watched him lick his lips wet, his ears pinning flat against his head. He lowered his massive head, his warm mouth enveloping one peak as his large fingers gently fondled and squeezed the other.
An intense, scorching rush of liquid heat gushed out between your thighs as he suckled and fondled on them, making you let out a breathless whimper, your hands cradling his head as he enjoyed you.
After what seemed like hours, he left your breasts with their pebbled tips swollen and red, his lips trailing down your abdomen. You reached down, your thumbs hooking on your sweatpants and underwear to roll it off your hips. Following your lead, he pulled it further down and you kicked it off your legs. Neteyam shifted, his massive hand coming down to grip your thigh, his calloused fingers firmly spreading your legs wide on the bed.
You saw him lick his lips as he looked down at your pussy, his hand reaching down to gently caress your velvety, slick folds with his thumb. His golden eyes peered up at you through his lashes, burning with an unadulterated, primal hunger. You bit your lip, nodding to him. Neteyam then leaned down, his mouth pressing directly against your pussy.
You took in a sharp breath, your fingers clutching the bedsheets as his tongue began to lick and kiss you with an incredible devotion he’s already showed you in your avatar body. He ate you out like you were his absolute favorite meal, his deep groans vibrating directly against your core as he licked and suckled at your soft nub. Slowly, carefully, he slid one finger inside you, testing your slick warmth.
“Neteyam...” you panted, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth. “More...”
He added a second finger, his mouth and hands working together in a flawless perfect rhythm until your legs were shaking violently and your entire body seized in a shattering orgasm. You bucked against his hand, completely undone.
Once the waves settled, he hovered back over you, his chest heaving. Your hand shot out, reaching down between his legs to palm his hardened cock. He let out a loud groan, his knees buckling slightly against the frame of the bed.
“Take it out, baby...” you mumbled, your voice thick with desire. “I'll take care of it.”
You reached behind him, helping him untie the bindings of his loincloth. The moment he shed the fabric, his cock sprang free. An impossibly long and thick column of azure, engorged and already licking at the tip. You swallowed hard, pushing yourself up on your elbows. You leaned forward, placing the wide head of his shaft against your lips. You peered up at him through your lashes as you began to lick the sweet essence from the tip, your small hand working the incredible length of his shaft as far down as you could reach.
You tilted your head, moving your mouth to take more of him in, but you could barely get half of it past your lips before your mouth felt completely stuffed. Neteyam let out a loud moan, his hand coming up to grip your hair gently as he carefully moved his hips against your mouth, dragging his length in ths slick warmth of it before gently pulling it out.
His breath was ragged as he started pumping himself with his hand, his other hand firmly keeping your thighs spread wide on the mattress.
He grunted, his body trembling. You reached up, wrapping your small hand around his heavily muscled forearm.
“Put it inside me, Neteyam...” you whispered, your eyes locked onto his. “Please...”
Neteyam bit his lip, his expression fracturing with conflict. He looked terrified of breaking you, but the burning desire to be inside you was written across every inch of his face. You squeezed his forearm when he lowered his hips carefully between your legs.
“Hips up, beautiful...” he said in a low command, his large hand sliding under you to lift your hips off the bed.
You bit your lip as the massive, wide head of his shaft began to nudge against your sensitive, aching folds. You knew there was absolutely no mathematical way his entire length would fit inside you, but you didn't care. You whimpered as the head pushed past your opening, stretching you incredibly wide, while Neteyam let out a deep, guttural grunt as the intense warmth and tightness of your walls embraced him.
You looked down, watching in sheer pleasure as his thick blue cock spread your pussy lips so wide that a huge amount of your own wetness was coating him. His calloused thumb reached down to softly rub your clit as he gently eased himself. His other hand kneaded your soft breast before lowering his head to kiss you deeply.
He stopped pushing in just right, knowing your body's limit. Then, he began to move, dragging his cock in and out of you in a careful, agonizingly slow pace. You kept your back arched, offering your breasts to his mouth. He caught one peak between his lips, suckling hungrily as his hips thrust rhythmically against yours.
“You are... so tight...” he groaned against your skin, his bites turning hard and nipping at the flesh of your breast. “So fucking good, baby.”
“You're just... so big...” you whimpered, tears of sheer pleasure pricking your eyes as you felt every single ridge and vein of his cock molded perfectly against your soft walls.
The intense friction was too much for him to withstand in your tight core that within a few more deliberate thrusts, he let out a loud, primal grunt, his entire body shuddering violently as he spilled his heavy, warm release deep inside you. He carefully pulled out, gripping his throbbing shaft tight as he shivered, painting your pussy with the warmth of his release.
You lay there panting, your fingers caressing his lower abdomen before you u reached down to scoop a dollop of the warm, thick fluid onto your fingers and bring it up to your mouth, licking it off with a playful smirk.
Neteyam let out a low purr, his large hand reaching out to give your breast a squeeze as he smiled down at you. He lowered his head, catching your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he groaned happily.
Suddenly, your eyes snapped wide open. You gasped, aggressively pushing his massive chest away.
Neteyam blinked, looking entirely confused as he sat back on his heels. “What? What is it, my love?”
You scrambled across the bed, your hands frantically grabbing the calendar pad off your nightstand. You stared at the glowing green matrix on the screen, your face turning completely pale.
“What?” Neteyam asked again, his ears tilting forward in concern.
“I'm fertile,” you mumbled in English, blinking up at him with wide, bewildered eyes.
Neteyam’s brow furrowed, his head tilting in confusion. “Fertile? As in good soil?”
“No, me. I’n fertile. I could get pregnant," you said, your face a mix of pure shock and panic. “Like... baby pregnant.”
Neteyam’s head reared back instantly, his ears pinning completely flat against his head. A look of genuine alarm flashed across his face, and he immediately pressed his massive hand flat against your soft belly, as if protecting it. “Baby... no. You won't survive it.”
“I know, oh my goodness,” you said, biting your lip, but as the panic subsided, a sudden realization began to click in your brain. You let out a small, breathless chuckle, patting his massive hand. “But wait... don't worry. It's actually highly impossible for it to happen.”
Neteyam blinked, his ears perking up slightly. “Impossible? Why?”
“Because science,” you nodded at him. “My human immune system will immediately recognize your biological material as a foreign, alien pathogen. The moment it enters my system, my white blood cells are going to launch an assault and attack it. Your little soldiers don't stand a chance against my white blood cells.”
Neteyam stared at you for a long three seconds, processing the complex jargon, before a look of profound, worshipful adoration washed over his beautiful features. He let out a low, rumbling chuckle, leaning down to press a deep, tender kiss right where your forehead met your messy hair.
“You are such a genius, baby,” he murmured against your skin.
You pursed your lips, grinning up at him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Small thing, Commander. That's exactly what brought me to this world in the first place.”
Neteyam smiled, his large arms wrapping completely around your small frame, pulling you close against his chest as the rain began to patter softly against the reinforced steel roof of the shack. “I love your brain,” he whispered adoringly, his golden eyes shining in the dark. “I love you. I love you very much, Y/N.”
You grinned, burying your face into his warm chest, your heart completely at peace. “I love you too, Neteyam.”
knight who is on the verge of breaking his vow when he submits and allows his lady to completely undress before him and grind on his lap, watching her get herself off over the bulge in his pants, and who is absolutely stressing over it.
you know that trope where it’s princess + knight, but they’ve both been captured by the bad guys and the princess is now gripped by the jaw by the villain, receiving a thin cut to her cheek while remaining completely still with a defiant look in her eyes even as a droplet of blood begins to trickle out of the wound, all while 3 people AT THE VERY LEAST need to have their hands locked on the knight because he’s thrashing around like a wild animal, trying so so so desperately, violently, to get to her?
I don't know if you do this kind of genre (if not, feel free to ignore this request), but can I ask for Sub!Bakugou x Dom!Fem!reader? The scenario is like Reader discovering (on their first time) that Katsuki is into pegging/rimming
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hii ofc you can, thanks so much for requesting <3 ! i never viewed him as a sub, i feel as if it’s mischaracterization… so sorry if it’s not perfect (^^;)
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good boy !~
pro hero katsuki bakugo, all sharp edges and pride… until you learn exactly where they crack.
timeskip sub!bakugo x fem!dom!reader nsfw !!
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you notice it by accident.
it’s not like katsuki asks, he never would.
it’s something smaller— quieter. a hitch in his breath when your hand lingers too long on his hip. the way he goes tense instead of pulling away when you press him down against the mattress just to kiss him harder.
normally, he’d snap. tell you to quit messing around and flip you onto your back without thinking.
but this time? he freezes, just for half a second— but you feel it.
the hesitation. the way his breath stutters like you’ve touched something you weren’t supposed to.
“…what,” he mutters, voice rough. defensive. “why’re you lookin’ at me like that.”
you don’t answer right away. you just shift— slow, deliberate— settling more comfortably over him. letting him feel your weight, your control.
his jaw tightens, “fuckin’ hell, get off,” he says, not looking at you.
you tilt your head. “…you sure?”
he swallows.
that’s when you know, katsuki bakugo doesn’t swallow unless he’s cornered— unless he wants something he hates himself for wanting.
“…i didn’t say stop,” he snaps, immediately frustrated. “just— don’t fuckin’—”
“don’t what?” you ask softly.
you slide your hand down his chest, fingers tracing muscle he’s proud of— stopping just before it becomes something else. you feel the way his thighs tense beneath you. the way his hands curl into the sheets instead of grabbing you.
his voice drops. lower. raw.
“…don’t make it weird.”
you smile— slow, knowing.
“katsuki,” you murmur, leaning down so he has to look at you. “look at me.”
he doesn’t want to, but he does.
and there it is— that sharp, furious blush climbing his cheekbones. the way his eyes burn with something between embarrassment and need.
“you like when i take charge, hm?” you say, not accusing, just stating it.
his teeth grit, “…shut up.”
you hum, “you like when i tell you what to do.”
silence.
then— barely audible:
“…don’t say it like that.”
your thumb presses under his chin, tilting his face back up when he tries to turn away.
“like what?”
he exhales hard through his nose. defeated. honest in a way he hates.
“…like it’s obvious.”
your chest warms and you shift again, settling more firmly, and his breath catches despite himself. his eyes flutter shut for half a second before he forces them open again.
“…this stays between us,” he mutters. “you hear me?”
you lean in, lips brushing his ear.
“only if you ask properly.”
his whole body tenses and for a long moment, katsuki bakugo… number one hero in the making, just breathes beneath you.
then, quietly. rough. stripped bare.
“…please.”
and the sound of it?
yeah, you’re never letting him live that down.
you smirk, feeling a thrill of power at the sound of that single word falling from katsuki's lips. "please." he’d never said it before, never begged like this and you knew he hated himself for it even as his body responded eagerly to your touch.
leaning down, you capture his mouth in a deep, dominating kiss. your tongue sweeps past his lips to claim him thoroughly, and you can feel the way he melts into it despite himself. his hands come up to grip your hips hard enough to bruise as he arches up against you.
when you finally pull back, both of your chests are heaving with exertion and desire. katsuki’s eyes are dark and blown wide with lust when they meet yours again.
"good boy," you purr approvingly, letting the words drip with honeyed venom designed to make him squirm. you grind down against him slowly, feeling his hardness through the fabric separating you.
katsuki’s eyes flash with a mix of embarrassment and outrage at your words, but he doesn't pull away. instead, his hips buck up against yours almost involuntarily, seeking more friction. his hands tighten on your hips possessively.
"you’re fuckin’ insufferable," he growls, even as his body betrays him. "i’m not some puppy you can just- ah!"
you cut off his protests by leaning down to bite at the sensitive skin of his throat, marking him as yours. your teeth scrape over his pulse point before soothing it with your tongue.
"shh," you murmur against his skin. "just let go for once in your life."
he shudders beneath you, torn between pride and desire. you can practically see the war raging in his head, the part of him that wants to submit clashing with the part that refuses to be weak.
but in this moment, pinned beneath you like this? he’s helpless to resist the way you make him feel.
you sense the tension building in his body, the way his muscles coil tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap. you can feel his heart pounding beneath your fingertips, racing with excitement and fear.
"let go," you whisper again, your breath hot against his skin. "just for once, let me take care of you kats..."
katsuki's eyes flash open, he's trapped between wanting to surrender and refusing to be weak. but as you continue to kiss him, slow and deliberate, he starts to unravel.
his hands slide up your back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your shoulders as he tries to pull himself closer. his hips buck up against yours once more, seeking more friction.
you give it to him, slow rolls of your hips that rub him just right. katsuki's head falls back against the mattress as he lets out a low groan of pleasure.
"fuck," he mutters under his breath. "this is... this is so... ugh."
you grin at his discomfort, loving the way his body responds to you even as he tries to resist. slowly, teasingly, you trail your fingers down his chest and stomach until you reach the waistband of his pants.
"let’s get these off, yeah?" you murmur, popping open the button and sliding down the zipper. katsuki tenses but doesn't stop you as you tug them down over his hips and thighs, exposing him completely.
your eyes rake over his naked body appreciatively before settling on the hard dick of him jumping out proudly, you lick your lips hungrily.
"i wanna taste you," you purr, sinking down between his legs. his breath hitches in anticipation as you lean in close enough for your breath to ghost over his sensitive skin.
but instead of taking him into your mouth like he expects, you dip lower, trailing kisses along the inside of one thigh while letting your fingers dance teasingly along the other. katsuki squirms beneath your touch with a frustrated groan.
"fuck, quit teasin’," katsuki snaps, his voice rough with need. but even as he says it, his hips lift off the bed slightly, silently begging for more.
you chuckle darkly and decide to give him what he wants— for now. leaning in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick from base to tip before swirling it around the sensitive head. katsuki’s breath catches sharply at the contact.
emboldened by his reaction, you take him into your mouth fully, inch by inch until he hits the back of your throat. you hold yourself there for a long moment before pulling back slowly, letting your teeth graze lightly along his dick.
katsuki lets out a strangled moan above you as his hands fist in the sheets beside him. his thighs tremble with tension as you continue to work him over with lips and tongue and teeth until he's panting harshly above you.
but just when you can tell he's getting close, you pull off abruptly with a wet pop. his eyes fly open in protest, his hips jerking up towards your mouth as if seeking more friction. but you're already moving away, crawling backwards down the bed until you're kneeling between his legs.
"i wanna taste something else first," you murmur with a wicked grin. katsuki’s eyes widen in understanding and he tenses slightly, but doesn't try to stop you as you push his thighs further apart.
leaning down, you run your tongue along the sensitive skin behind his balls before dipping lower, teasing around the tight pucker of his hole with feather light touches. he shudders at the sensation and lets out a shaky exhale.
"fuck...that feels so weird..." he mutters, even as he unconsciously pushes back against your tongue. you smirk against his skin and double down on your efforts, licking and circling and probing until he starts to relax into it.
soon enough, he’s is rocking back against your face shamelessly as you eat him out like it's your favorite meal.
you continue your ministrations, revealing in the way katsuki’s body responds to you. his hole clenches and flutters around your tongue as you push inside, fucking him with it slowly but steadily.
"a..ah what the hell...—fuck," katsuki chants breathlessly, his head thrown back and eyes screwed shut in ecstasy. one hand comes down to tangle in your hair, holding you against him as he grinds back onto your face.
you let him use you for a few moments before pulling away abruptly again. he whines at the loss of contact but then gasps sharply when he feels something cool and slick pressing against his entrance.
"you’re so tight, heh," you murmur appreciatively as you work a finger inside him alongside your tongue. "i can't wait to feel this perfect ass wrapped around my dick.”
katsuki shudders violently at the dirty talk, his dick leaking endlessly onto his stomach. you add another finger, scissoring them carefully to stretch him open while still licking over his rim.
you continue to work him open with your fingers and tongue, reveling in the way his body responds to you. his hole clenches around your fingers as you pump them steadily in and out, trying to take them deeper each time.
he is practically sobbing with pleasure above you now, his face flushed and eyes glazed over with lust. "please... jus’ please fuck me," he begs shamelessly, too far gone to care about anything other than feeling you inside him.
you smile against his skin but oblige him nonetheless, pulling your fingers free and replacing them with the blunt head of your strap on dick. you press forward slowly but steadily until the tip pops inside, making him gasp sharply at the sudden intrusion.
"fuck..." he whimpers breathlessly as you pause there for a moment to let him adjust. his inner walls flutter around you, trying desperately to pull you in deeper.
with a low groan of satisfaction, you start to move, sliding inch by inch into that tight heat until finally bottoming out completely. you pause for a moment, savoring the feeling of being fully sheathed inside katsuki’s tight heat. he’s trembling beneath you, his body still trying to adjust to the intrusion. you can feel every clench and flutter of his inner muscles around your dick.
"fuck...you feel so amazing, pretty boy,” you groan, letting your eyes drift shut in bliss. "so perfect, bakugo..."
katsuki whimpers softly at your words, his hips shifting restlessly as if seeking more friction. you give it to him, pulling back until just the tip remains before slamming forward again with a low grunt.
"just like that— fuck..." he babbles incoherently as you set a steady pace, each thrust pushing him further up the bed until he's practically pinned between your body and the mattress.
your hands grip his hips tightly enough to bruise as you pound into him relentlessly, chasing your own pleasure even as you revel in the way katsuki’s body responds to yours.
you continue to fuck into him with deep, powerful thrusts that have the bed creaking beneath you. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room along with your harsh panting and katsuki’s high, keening moans and groans.
"fuck...fuck...i’m so close..." he gasps out, his voice strained with pleasure. his dick bobs between his legs, leaking steadily onto his stomach as he nears the edge.
you lean down over him, changing the angle of your thrusts slightly and making katsuki whine out. "cmon, cum for me," you growl into his ear before biting down on the lobe roughly. "let me feel it."
your words are all it takes to push katsuki over, he comes with a choked groan of your name, his body convulsing violently beneath yours as thick ropes of cum splatter across his chest.
the feeling of his ass clamping down around you like a vice as he cums is almost too much, it only takes a few more thrusts before you're following him over the edge with a guttural groan.
you collapse on top of him in the aftermath, both of you panting harshly as you try to catch your breath. sweat coats your skin, making it slick and sticky where your bodies are pressed together intimately.
after a few moments, you roll off of katsuki onto your back beside him, one arm thrown across your eyes as you bask in the afterglow. he curls into your side almost immediately, his head pillowed on your chest and one leg thrown carelessly across yours.
you can feel his heart pounding against yours through the thin layer of skin separating them. the sound is comforting somehow, grounding even amidst the haze of post orgasmic bliss.
“you’re such a good boy for me,” you whisper softly.
make out sessions with bf!katsuki but every time things get bolder.
his hands will no longer stay on your hips. they move up slowly, sliding to your waist as he grips the hem of your blouse. there’s a brief pause — like he’s checking you, watching your reaction — before he starts pulling it up, careful not to rush anything.
and you don’t stop him. you encourage him.
your hands come over his, guiding his movements as he lifts the fabric higher and higher, over your stomach, inch by inch, until he finally reveals your breasts. your nipples harden instantly in the open air, and he bunches your blouse just above them, holding it there, leaving you exposed in front of him.
you moan softly into the kiss, your head tilting to the side, following his rhythm — or trying to— because it’s getting harder to keep up. wet, messy sounds fill his room along with your soft whimpers, the closeness between you two only growing more intense.
when his tongue pushes deeper into your mouth and his large hands finally cup your breasts, you shiver involuntarily, your body pressing forward into him, brushing against his crotch and pulling a low grunt from him in response.
his thumbs find your nipples, gently pressing into the sensitive buds, keeping his touch there just to stir you up. it works, of course. the sensation pulls more sounds from you —broken, breathy, honest — and something warm starts building deep in your stomach, unfamiliar but addicting.
your breath catches completely, fingers tangling in his already messy hair, tugging lightly at the strands as you keep kissing him, still grinding against his clothed dick without fully realizing it. he grunts into your mouth again, rougher this time, reacting to to you.
and you don’t even try to hide how long you make these moments last.
you drag them out on purpose.
you two would kiss for hours, just to see how long it takes before one of you finally gives in and pulls away first, trying to make the other give up.
and it the end? you would be breathless, turned on and wet, your underwear uncomfortable and his pants obviously straining him.
“do i give you a hard time?” you ask on a shaky voice, a smile creeping up your lips.
he just scoffs, forehead resting against yours, hands coming down your waist, gripping at your skin.
“hah, you wish,” he smirks, then his lips find you again, as if everything that happend is just the beginning.
you two really like torturing each other.
a/n: yeah… i need this. just hours of kissing and touching each other… *sigh*
not massively, anyways. it's always been something he does in secrecy whenever he feels he just can't hold out any longer, cursing himself for succumbing to such useless hormones. it's natural, a way of life and it's not very often he actually pleasures himself, typically away from porn because he finds it kind of degrading and can only imagine it's the type of shit incels who spend their entire lives locked in their dorm rooms jerking off would enjoy.
until he meets you. and now, it's not just the sex. it's not just the way your tits bounce when you ride him, or the way your spit foams around the corners of your mouth as you swallow him whole. it's the little, senseless things that drive him fucking insane.
like the way your hand brushes his arm sometimes as you walk. how you choose to sit next to him in study halls despite it being widely known he's one of the worst people to want to be around in any type of academic setting and everyone's looking at you like you're insane. the glint in your eye whenever you're talking about something you're passionate about, the kind of stuff he's finally got the pleasure of hearing you ramble on about despite acting like he hates it.
or how you finally managed to convince him— the fucking temptress you are— to let you take those fucking pictures you wanted for your little case study on him.
"how many more are you gonna fuckin' take?"
he's sitting in your shitty desk hair, leaned back with his forearms resting on the handles and his legs spread wide for you as you duck between them, one eye hidden behind the viewfinder and your tongue peeking out of your lip the way it always does when you concentrate.
he's shirtless, exposed beside his jeans clinging to his hips and he grunts before shuffling around to readjust himself in the light from your window that's slowly beginning to blind him.
"don't move!" you whine, adjusting something on the camera and he rolls his eyes.
"thought you only needed a couple? i'm startin' to think these are more for personal use, babe." he smirks and you hiss, thwacking him over his knee when it bobs up a little and he readjusts again.
"will you stop wriggling? god, you're so twitchy today."
you're ignoring him. that, and the fact you've been studying his body and practically doing your own personal calvin klein shoot of him for the past 20 minutes.
he huffs and fights the urge to do it again, turning away from you to study the trinkets across your shelves. "are you almost done?"
you click through the ample amount of photos you've managed to get of all the scars littered across his arms and his torso, but he can tell by the pinch in your brows you're still not satisfied.
"i wanna get one of the scar on your cheek."
his jaw ticks like he's about to deny you but the way you climb into his lap is enough to shut him up. he sucks in a breath when you bring your fingers to his chin, turning it so the side of his face is visible to the camera and you get a perfect view of that silvery scar across his cheekbone.
his big hands naturally take place on your hips and he fights the urge to buck up into you as you do so, the veins in his forearms protruding with all the will power he's being forced to exhibit until you're done. there's a few clicks until you're tapping through the photos again, finally brimming with pride at your work.
"there. these are perfect. y'know, you're a real model." you tease, dropping the camera on your bed and already making moves to dismount him when he stops you with a palm on the globe of your ass.
you look at him a little wide eyed but it soons melts into a cocky smirk at the almost desperate look he's giving you, successful in conveying what you already know he wants without words. his erection digging into your ass is confirmation enough but you want to hear him say it.
he shivers when you run your palms over the muscles in his shoulders, "what is it, kats?" you purr. that fucking nickname. ever since you discovered he wasn't opposed to you calling him by his first name, you'd immediately made the jump to branding him with a pet name. he had nearly popped a blood vessel when you first used it but then his dick had started to swell and before he knew it you were whining it as he drilled into you atop your pretty polka dot bed sheets.
you are the reason he has to go home and fist his cock until he can get release. why his brain tortures by replaying the memories of how you had touched him, how you'd purred his name, how your meaty thighs had felt pressed around his waist as he fucked you. he wants to hate you for it, but he knows he never will, so instead, he allows himself to slip further into what might be becoming chronic masturbation, or maybe even a sex addiction, but whatever it is he knows it's better than foregoing you all together.
The room is noisy in that unique way that only a girls' night out can be—soft music playing, snacks strewn about, one girl braiding the hair of another. The summer heat still lingers on your skin from the whole day spent outside, but the air conditioning is humming quietly while you all lie sprawled out on beds and the floor.
The chatter begins innocently. Crushes, then relationships, then the details.
“Okay but—” Mina flops onto her stomach, kicking her feet in the air, eyes locking onto you with a grin that’s way too knowing. “I need to understand something.”
You already know where this is going.
She props her chin in her hands. “What is so good about Bakugou?”
The room goes quiet for half a second, and then explodes.
“Right?!” Asui’s voice echoes faintly from the other room.
“He’s so mean!” Hagakure adds.
“He is intense, but I can imagine he’s different when you get close to him,” Yaoyorozu corrects politely, though she looks just as curious.
All eyes land on you.
You roll your eyes, grabbing a chip just to give yourself a second. “You guys don’t know him like I do.”
Mina narrows her eyes. “That’s exactly why I’m asking.”
And for a moment, you don’t answer.
Because yeah—on the outside? They’re not wrong.
You think about the first time he snapped at you during training, his sharp words, harsh tone, not even looking at you when he walked off. You remember standing there, embarrassed, annoyed and a little hurt.
You’d ignored him the rest of the day.
Until later.
Until he showed up at your door that night, he didn’t knock, he just stood there when you opened it, arms crossed, jaw tight.
“…You were off your game,” he muttered.
You’d stared at him. “Wow. That’s a great apology.”
His scowl deepened. “That wasn’t—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. Then, quieter, rougher, “I pushed you too hard.”
That had surprised you more than anything.
Bakugou didn’t say sorry easily. Even after all these years together he didn’t say it cleanly. But he’d stood there anyway, awkward and stubborn, refusing to leave until you let him in.
And then he stayed in your dorm, he didn’t say much. Except the large arms wrapped around you spoke larger volumes.
You blink back to the present, realizing everyone’s still waiting.
Mina waves a hand in front of your face, smirking. “Helloooo? You just zoned out thinking about him, didn’t you?”
A few giggles ripple through the room.
You sigh, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips now.
“He’s…a lot that’s for sure” you admit.
“Understatement of the year,” Jirou mutters.
“But,” you continue, sitting up a little straighter, “he always makes it right.”
They quiet down again.
You think about another time, when he forgot something important. A date, the day of your first date to be more specific. Not even a big one, just something that mattered to you. You hadn’t told him, but you’d hoped he’d remember.
He didn’t.
It was the silent treatment for him yet again.
But the next morning? He cornered you before class, clearly already irritated—at himself, not you.
“…I screwed up.”
No excuses, and no deflecting.
Then, later that week, he dragged you out—complaining the whole time—only for it to turn into something ridiculously thought out. Your favorite food, your favorite spot, things you’d mentioned once in passing.
The whole day revolved around you, he bought everything you wanted, despite your protests. And he even managed to smile.
He remembered, just a day late.
“…He messes up sometimes,” you say now, softer. “A lot, actually.”
Mina raises a brow like exactly.
“But he never half-asses fixing it, we all know that about him,” you add. “If he thinks he hurt me, he goes overboard trying to make it up.”
There’s a pause.
You glance down at your hands, then shrug lightly. “He doesn’t do things the normal way. But he cares. A lot.”
“Like, scary a lot,” you mumble under your breath.
Jirou snorts.
Yaoyorozu hums thoughtfully. “That does sound like him, in a way.”
Hagakure leans forward. “Okay but like, does he ever say anything nice??”
You hesitate.
Then you huff out a quiet laugh.
“Not really,” you admit. “At least not like you’d expect.”
Mina groans dramatically. “Girl—”
“But,” you cut in, “he shows it.”
And you don’t say more than that.
You don’t mention the way he always walks slightly behind you or beside you in crowded places, always making sure you’re in his line of sight. Always aligning his body to slightly shield you whenever you stop to look at something.
Or how he memorized your schedule without telling you.
Or how his hand always finds yours when no one’s looking.
Across the room, Mina studies you for a second longer then slowly grins.
“Oh my god,” she says. “You’re so down bad.”
Heat rushes to your face. “Shut up, you asked.”
The room bursts into laughter again, the tension breaking just like that.
But as the noise picks back up, your phone buzzes quietly beside you.
You glance down.
Suki: You ate?
You smile small and automatic.
And type back: Yeah. Did you?
The reply comes almost instantly.
Suki: Don’t worry about me. Just don’t skip meals, idiot.
You roll your eyes, but your chest feels warm.
Yeah.
They don’t get it.
But you do.
—
UA HIGH COMMON ROOMS:
The other common room next door is packed tonight, third years have way more freedom, which apparently means more chaos. Someone’s got music playing, Kaminari’s laughing too loud at something dumb, and Kirishima is in the middle of what looks like a very serious “bro discussion.”
Which quickly turns into everyone ganging up on one person.
“Alright, Bakugou,” Kaminari says, pointing like he’s finally cracked a mystery. “From man to fellow man, enough dodging.”
Across the room, Katsuki Bakugou barely glances up from his drink. “I’m not dodging anything. You’re just annoying.”
“Bro,” Sero cuts in, “you literally have a girlfriend.”
Bakugou’s eyes narrow. “…So?”
“So??” Kaminari practically launches off the couch. “SO—how?!”
Kirishima leans forward, grinning. “C’mon, man, we’re in our last year and half of us are still single. Help us out.”
Bakugou scoffs. “Skill issue.”
“THAT’S NOT ADVICE,” Kaminari yells.
Shouji chuckles. “Seriously though, what did you even do? Like how’d you pull her?”
That gets a reaction.
Bakugou’s glare sharpens instantly. “The hell do you mean ‘pull’?”
“Okay, bad wording—” Shouji starts.
“Yeah, real bad,” Kirishima mutters.
Bakugou clicks his tongue, leaning back like this is already a waste of time. “You idiots act like it’s some game.”
“…Is it not?” Sero asks.
“No,” Bakugou says flatly. “That’s why you keep screwing it up.”
There’s a pause.
Kirishima crosses his arms, still smiling but more thoughtful now. “Alright, then what is it?”
Bakugou doesn’t answer right away.
For a second, his gaze shifts—just slightly—toward the hallway. Or, more accurately the room that the hallway leads to.
Then he looks back, expression settling into something firm.
“…You stop acting like you need one,” he says.
Kaminari blinks. “What?”
“If you’re desperate, it shows,” Bakugou continues. “And it’s annoying as hell.”
Sero groans. “Great. So we’re doomed.”
“Pretty much,” Bakugou mutters.
Kirishima chuckles. “C’mon, there’s gotta be more to it than that.”
Bakugou exhales sharply, like he’s debating whether to even bother.
“…You find someone who can actually keep up,” he says finally. “Not just in fights. In everything.”
“Everything?” Kaminari echoes.
“Yeah. Someone who doesn’t back down every time you push them. Someone who calls you out when you’re being an idiot.”
There’s a beat.
Sero raises a brow. “I know damn well she does that to you.”
Bakugou shoots him a look. “Watch it.”
Kirishima grins wider. “Sounds kinda perfect for you, man.”
Bakugou doesn’t deny it.
Instead, he keeps going, voice a little lower now, but still steady.
“You don’t lie to her. You don’t play games. If you screw up, you fix it.” His jaw tightens slightly. “And you don’t half-ass it.”
Kaminari tilts his head. “…You’ve screwed up before?”
Bakugou glares. “Obviously. I’m not you—I actually learn from it.”
“HEY—”
Sero laughs under his breath. “So what, you just… pay attention and don’t be an idiot?”
“Exactly,” Bakugou says.
They all stare at him.
“…That sounds too simple,” Kaminari says.
“That’s because you overcomplicate everything,” Bakugou snaps. “It’s not about impressing her with stupid crap. It’s about knowing her.”
“Knowing what matters to her,” he adds. “Even the small stuff. That’s all really.”
The room goes still again.
Kirishima’s smile softens a little. “You really like her, huh?”
Bakugou doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”
It’s blunt, just like how he normally is. No embarrassment, no hesitation.
Kaminari exhales dramatically. “Man…we’re never catching up. Why do you gotta be so damn good at everything?”
Sero nods. “Yeah, we’re done for.”
Bakugou snorts, standing up and stretching like the conversation’s over. “Damn right you are.”
Kirishima laughs. “At least give us one last tip, man.”
Bakugou glances back at them, already halfway to leaving.
“…Don’t look for someone like mine,” he says.
They perk up instantly.
“Why not?” Kaminari asks.
Bakugou smirks—sharp, a little cocky, but not entirely joking.
“Because you won’t find her,” he says. “There’s only one.”
And with that, he walks off.
The boys sit there in stunned silence for about two seconds.
“HE’S SO GATEKEEPING, LEMME AT HIM!” Mineta shouts.
“BRO DID NOT JUST SAY THAT—”
“NAH, I RESPECT IT,” Kirishima laughs.
But Bakugou’s already gone, hands in his pockets, heading down the hall.
And when he spots you at the far end, leaning against the wall, waiting like you knew he’d show up, his whole expression shifts, just slightly.
“Finally,” he mutters as he reaches you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Took you long enough.”
—
YOUR DORM ROOM:
Your dorm room is quieter than the rest of the floor, soft music playing low, lights dimmed just enough to feel calm after the chaos of the night.
You’re sitting against your headboard, legs stretched out, while Katsuki Bakugou lies across your bed with his head in your lap like it’s the most natural place in the world.
It kind of is for him.
Your fingers move absentmindedly through his blond hair, slow and gentle. For a guy who doesn’t care about his hair, it’s surprisingly soft.
“They’re all idiots.”
You huff a small laugh, not even surprised. “Which ones?”
“All of them,” he mutters instantly.
You smile a little, looking down at him. “That narrows it down.”
He cracks one eye open to glare up at you, but there’s no real bite to it. “Don’t play dumb. Your little gossip session was loud as hell.”
“Oh please,” you scoff. “Like yours wasn’t?”
That earns a quiet ‘tch’, but he doesn’t deny it.
There’s a brief pause, your hand still combing through his hair.
“They asked me how to get a girl,” he says flatly.
You blink. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” His lip curls slightly. “Like I’m gonna give them some step-by-step guide or some shit.”
You laugh softly. “What did you say?”
“That they’re screwed.”
“Wow. Helpful.”
“They are,” he insists, shifting just slightly so he’s more comfortable against you. “They keep overthinking everything. Acting like it’s some big strategy.”
You tilt your head. “And you don’t?”
He snorts. “Hell no.”
Your fingers pause for a second before continuing. “The girls asked me about you.”
That gets his attention.
Both eyes open now, sharp red flicking up to meet yours. “Yeah?”
You hum. “Mina wanted to know what’s ‘so good’ about you.”
His brows knit together immediately. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”
You grin. “Her words, not mine.”
He clicks his tongue, looking away again. “Extras don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“Mm,” you murmur. “That’s what I said too. Of course minus the extra.”
There’s a small silence after that, comfortable, warm.
Then he speaks again, quieter this time.
“…They don’t get it.”
You look down at him, softer now. “No. They don’t.”
Your hand slows in his hair, tracing lightly along his scalp, and he exhales, barely noticeable, but you feel it.
“They think it’s about saying the right crap,” he continues. “Or acting a certain way.”
You nod faintly. “The girls said something similar.”
“Tch.” His jaw tightens just a little. “It’s not.”
You don’t interrupt this time.
“You just…know,” he says, like it’s obvious. “When it’s right.”
Your chest tightens slightly at that, but you keep your voice light. “Oh yeah? And how’d you figure that out?”
He goes quiet.
For a second, you think he won’t answer.
“You didn’t back down.”
You blink.
He doesn’t look at you, eyes fixed somewhere off to the side, but his voice is steady.
“Everyone else either got pissed off or avoided me,” he mutters. “You didn’t.”
A small smile tugs at your lips.
“You kept up,” he adds. “Called me out when I was being an ass.”
“Which is often,” you tease.
He huffs. “Yeah, yeah.”
Your fingers brush lightly against his temple, softer now.
“And you didn’t treat me like I was too much,” he finishes, quieter than before.
You swallow slightly, your chest warm. “You are a lot, you know.”
His eyes flick back up to you, a faint smirk forming. “Didn’t say I wasn’t.”
You shake your head, smiling.
“They’d never get it,” he mutters again.
You raise a brow. “Wow. Still on that?”
“Yeah,” he says simply. “They’re all looking for something easy.”
“…You’re not easy.”
You snort. “Gee, thanks.”
“Not like that,” he says, annoyed. “I mean you’re not fake. You don’t just go along with shit.”
Your hand stills for a second in his hair. “And I like that,” he adds, quieter.
You smile softly, resuming your gentle motions. “Good. Because I’m not changing.”
“Didn’t ask you to.”
Another comfortable silence settles over the room.
Outside, you can hear faint laughter from the rest of the dorms, but here, it feels like your own little world.
After a minute, you glance down at him again.
“So,” you murmur, teasing, “you really told them they’ll never find someone like me?”
A pause.
Then he scoffs, looking away again, but there’s a hint of something smug there.
“It’s true.”
You laugh quietly, shaking your head.
“Cocky,” you whisper.
“Realistic,” he corrects.
Your fingers slide through his hair one more time, slow and fond.
Thinking about Katsuki who loves taking baths with you after he has a hard day, the two of you consumed by the warm water, you sit on his lap facing him, carefully clean the cuts and grim off his face.
You reach over the side of the tub to discard of the bloody cotton ball before grabbing a new one, when you turn back to him, his eyes are heavy and his head is nodding.
"Stay with me kats.." You giggle, holding his head upright with a hand on his cheek.
His eyes snap open, he grumbles something incoherent and lays his head back, his hands tight on your waist grounding himself.
After cleaning up his face you move to washing his hair, the both of you awkwardly squeezing past each other so he can lay with his back to your chest.
He groans softly as you massage the shampoo into his scalp, his hands rest on your thigh.
When your done washing his hair, he nuzzles back into you, getting comfortable again before you start dragging him out of the tub.
He complains sleepily as you help him dry off and when hes fully dressed he clumsily stumbles over to the bed before dropping down on his side, already asleep.
You laugh as you climb into bed beside him and pull him close into your chest, already planning to make fun of him tomorrow.
I think katsuki likes being pampered a bit if he has a hard day 😛
