ᯓTWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME .ᐟ
"ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏxɪᴄ "
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ ݁ .
Neteyam x na'vi fem reader
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁ .
[ author note : it's kinda mid, don't expect anything cool . I wanted to write it as more toxic and brutal but this will do fine job so far. Thanks my situationship for the inspo. ]
~~~~~~
You should have learned your lesson the first time.
But you didn’t.
Because every time Neteyam looked at you like that, you forgot every moment that made you angry.
And today?
Today was worse.
“You keep staring,” he said casually, not even looking at you.
You scoffed. “I am not.”
“Mm.” His lips curved slightly. “Then you should be more careful. Someone might think you like what you see.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart betrayed you by speeding up.
“Someone like you?” you shot back.
That got his attention.
He turned his head slowly, eyes dragging over you in a way that felt intentional. Measured.
“Maybe,” he said. “Do you?”
You held his gaze this time.
Something in you snapped into place.
Oh.
So that was how he wanted to play.
“Sometimes,” you replied lightly. “Depends on the day.”
His eyebrow lifted, clearly not expecting that.
“Only sometimes?”
You shrugged, stepping closer, just enough to mirror him. “You are not exactly consistent.”
His eyes darkened slightly.
“Careful,” he murmured. “You sound jealous.”
You let out a soft laugh. “Do not flatter yourself.”
But you did not step away.
Neither did he.
---
It became a game after that.
A stupid, frustrating, addictive game.
If he leaned close, you leaned closer.
If his hand brushed yours, you did not pull away. Sometimes you brushed back.
If he whispered something teasing in your ear, you answered with something sharper.
“You keep finding reasons to touch me,” he said one afternoon, his fingers loosely wrapped around your wrist after you tried to walk past him.
You tilted your head, completely unbothered. “And you keep letting me.”
His grip tightened slightly.
“That is dangerous.”
You stepped closer instead of pulling away.
“So stop me.”
He did not.
Of course he did not.
---
The tension built until it felt like it would break something.
And then one night, it did.
You were both sitting slightly apart from the others, the sound of the ocean filling the quiet between you.
“You are quieter tonight,” he said.
“So are you.”
He glanced at you. “I am thinking.”
“That is new.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “You think you are funny.”
“I know I am.”
Silence settled again, but it felt different this time.
He shifted closer.
“You never answered me,” he said.
“About what?”
“Whether you like what you see.”
You turned your head slowly, your face closer to his than it should have been.
“I think you already know the answer.”
“Say it.”
You studied him for a moment.
Then, softer, “I like when you are like this.”
His breath caught slightly. “Like what?”
“Like you actually want me.”
The words hung between you.
Too honest.
Too real.
For once, he did not deflect.
His hand came up, resting lightly at your waist.
“I always want you,” he said quietly.
Your chest tightened.
“Then why do you act like you do not?”
“I do not act,” he murmured. “I hold back.”
“Why?”
His fingers tightened slightly against your side.
“Because if I do not, I might not stop.”
Your breath hitched.
“Maybe I do not want you to.”
That was it.
That was the moment everything shifted.
He kissed you, not soft like before, but certain. Like he had made a decision.
And you kissed him back just as hard.
No hesitation.
No confusion.
Just heat, and tension finally breaking.
His hand slid from your waist to your back, pulling you closer, and for a moment, everything finally made sense.
---
The next morning?
You refused to be the same person.
You saw him before he noticed you.
And there it was again.
That mark on his neck.
Clear.
Obvious.
Last time, it hurt.
This time?
You just smiled.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
He walked up to you like nothing had changed. “Good morning.”
You looked him over, letting your gaze linger on his neck on purpose.
“Looks like you had a busy night.”
He tensed slightly. “It is not what you think.”
You stepped closer before he could continue.
“Relax,” you said lightly. “I am not asking.”
That threw him off.
“I was going to explain—”
“No need.” You reached up, brushing your fingers just under his jaw, right below the mark. “You do what you want, right?”
His eyes locked onto yours.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
You smiled sweetly.
“It means…” you leaned in slightly, your voice dropping, “two can play this game.”
His expression changed instantly.
“Y/N—”
But you were already stepping back.
Later that day, you made sure he saw you laughing with someone else. Sitting a little too close. Letting your hand linger just a second too long.
Nothing real.
Just enough.
Just like he always did.
And when you passed him again?
You did not stop.
“Careful,” you said under your breath as you walked by. “You might start to think I like someone else.”
That did it.
His hand caught your arm, pulling you back.
“You are doing this on purpose.”
You tilted your head innocently. “Doing what?”
His jaw tightened.
“This.”
You leaned closer, just like he always did.
“Now you know how it feels.”
For once, he had no clever response.
Just frustration.
Just tension.
Just something dangerously close to losing control.
And for the first time?
You did not feel confused.
You felt even.