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dilf-whore · 2 years ago

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the forever third wheels

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

secondary pairings: natasha romanoff x steve rogers, yelena belova x kate bishop

summary: it's the weekend of your town's annual valentine's day carnival and you go with your group of friends, though you can't help but be sad you don't have someone special in your life. your friend, and fellow third wheel, bucky barnes makes it his mission to give you a valentine's day you won't soon forget—and show you how special you are to him.

warnings: like SO much angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, kissing, so many feelings, nicknames (peanut), reader gets ditched by her friends and is sad but not resentful

word count: 6.6k (😮‍💨)

a/n: i just wanted to write some bucky fluff for valentine's day and i was inspired by a text post i reblogged last week to do something set at a valentine's day carnival. i made a moodboard for this as i started writing and it was so much fun!! (you can see the moodboard here) i kinda wanted similar vibes to my fall fic, all the apple cider and no more haunted houses, but for valentine's day (though this one doesn't have any smut) and i think i succeeded. anyway hope y'all enjoy!!! happy valentine's day ♡♡

The sound of a fake gunshot went off, ricocheting around the plywood walls of the carnival game stall. Your body tensed where you were hunched over the water gun of a racing game, your horse taking off and peeling out in front of the other players. Behind you, your friends cheered you on, which only made you more determined. You had your eye on a stuffed duck, and you were determined to win your prize so you wouldn’t leave the carnival empty handed.

The Valentine’s Day carnival was one of your favorite traditions. Even though it was often cold, and sometimes snowy, the whole town turned out on the weekend of or before Valentine’s Day to enjoy everything the carnival had to offer. It was a little taste of summer in the dead of winter and it brought you so much joy to celebrate Valentine’s Day with carnival games and fried food—even if a part of you was always a little bit sad you’d never had a special someone to go with.

Instead, you’d long been going to the carnival with your two best friends, Yelena Belova and her older sister Natasha Romanoff. Over the years, your group had grown. First when Nat met Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, and the two became a staple of your life, especially since Nat and Steve were practically attached at the hip. Then Yelena had met Kate Bishop and they started dating, and your group had solidified into a permanent party of six—two couples and two third wheels. You and Bucky were the forever third wheels.

The music of the carnival game sped up and you refocused on your mission to win the stuffed duck as yours and another horse passed the three-quarters mark of the racetrack. Glancing down the line of players, you matched your opponent to a 12-year old kid, whose friends were whooping and hollering as he caught up to you. Gritting your teeth, you redoubled your efforts, keeping your concentration on ensuring the water from your gun didn’t stray from the mark.

But you couldn’t help noticing your friends were no longer cheering for you. Instead, Yelena giggled loudly, Kate’s echoing laughter an indication they’d gotten lost in their own little world. When you glanced back, you caught Nat stuffing some popcorn into Steve’s mouth as they stared into each other’s eyes adoringly. Before you knew it, the winner’s bell went off and the 12-year-old cheered in victory. Your horse was less than inch behind his, but he’d managed to win. The kid’s friends crowded around him, all yelling about what prize he should pick.

You turned away sharply, standing up and glancing around at your friends, realizing none of them even noticed you were done with your game. Kate and Yelena were wrapped up in each other, looking ridiculously cute as they giggled about something, and Steve and Nat had moved a little ways away sharing their popcorn and whispering together.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you held back a shiver as the February wind whipped around your body, like even Mother Nature was determined to remind you that no one else wanted to hold you and protect you from the chill. It was actually quite warm for February, a false spring day that happened to line up perfectly with the weekend of the Valentine’s Day carnival. You’d forgone a coat, wearing a cream-colored chunky sweater tucked into the waist of a red velvet skirt. White tights and black ankle boots completed the look you’d been so excited about, but at that moment, it just reminded you how cold it could be to be alone.

Suddenly, Bucky appeared at your side, stepping up beside where you were standing awkwardly by the carnival game and debating whether you should get your friends’ attention or leave them to their canoodling. Back from his snack run, Bucky handed you your own stick of pink and red cotton candy—colored to fit the Valentine’s Day theme, of course. “How’d you do?” he asked, his blue eyes bright and intent on your face as he tore off some of his own cotton candy and stuffed it in his mouth.

“Didn’t win the duck,” you said, shrugging like you weren’t disproportionately sad about losing out on the stuffed animal you’d wanted to take home. It was just a silly stuffed duck, you told yourself, there was no reason to be so sad. But even as you told yourself that, your heart squeezed and tears threatened when you watched the 12-year-old kid walk by holding a stuffed frog—one of the other prizes the booth offered besides the duck.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said, throwing his arm around your shoulders and dragging you closer to your friends, who’d drifted away from the game and the crowd surrounding it. “The day’s young, we’ve got plenty of time to get you a new stuffie.”

It was late afternoon, the sun still up but getting low in the sky, so Bucky wasn’t technically wrong, but you didn’t know how much longer you could endure the Valentine’s Day carnival when your friends were so obviously in love and you were stuck being the third—or, technically, fifth—wheel. Thankfully, you had Bucky. You didn’t know what you’d have done without him, and that thought made your heart beat faster.

You came to a stop in front of your friends, Nat and Yelena arguing over what carnival game to play next. The water gun game was the only one you liked, so you didn’t bother chiming in. Instead, you glanced up at Bucky and found him staring down at you, a small smile on his face, his blue eyes sparkling and reflecting all the bright, flashing lights of the carnival. Affection was clear in his gaze and it made a swarm of butterflies take flight in your belly, soaring up into your chest and making your heart flutter.

You’d never told anyone, not even Yelena and Nat, but you harbored a little crush on Bucky. It had started as friendly gratitude since he made sure you felt left out as little as possible, drawing you into conversations when Yelena and Nat were too focused on their significant others to see you sitting alone, not talking to anyone. But the more you got to know Bucky, the more impossible you found it not to have a crush on him. He was sweet and caring and attentive and a good listener.

But you didn’t know if he felt the same way, so you kept your feelings hidden from everyone, even your best friends. You were too worried about what would happen if you screwed up your friendship with him. It would kill you to lose him as a friend and then again to be left alone with two very happy couples.

So when he looked at you like that, with so much affection it clogged your throat with how much you wanted him to want you, you did what you always did and looked away quickly. You pretended to be engrossed in Nat and Yelena’s argument while schooling your expression to make sure your feelings weren’t plain as day on your face. Your fingers stuffed cotton candy into your mouth mechanically, the sugary treat melting to nothing on your tongue while you barely tasted its sweetness.

Finally, Nat and Yelena came to some decision that you missed, but then they were leading the group away and Bucky was tugging you along with his arm still around your shoulders. The feel of him holding onto you, still steady and solid beside you, helped you escape the panic spiral you’d fallen into wondering what would happen if he ever discovered your little crush. Your brain liked to spin out the worst scenarios possible, like Bucky not wanting anything to do with you and your friends ditching you for good, so you were left truly alone.

“Tell me, peanut,” Bucky started, the nickname warming your heart and grounding you in the moment. All your anxious thoughts were pushed to the side and you let yourself enjoy being with your friend, your feet tromping over the frozen grass of the carnival grounds and your side warm where it was pressed into Bucky. “If I was a stuffie in one of these carnival games, would you try to win me?” he asked, glancing down at you with a playful grin on his face.

It was easy to throw your head back and laugh at the silly question, to pretend everything was normal and there wasn’t a sadness embedded deep in your heart threatening to swallow you up like a black hole. Bucky made it easy. Still, the reality was that if he was a stuffie, you would play carnival games until your fingers went numb and your lips turned blue to win him. But you couldn’t say that. So you scrunched up your face like you were thinking hard about his question, really considering it, even though you were just teasing him.

Bucky chuckled, tightening his arm around your neck and tugging you in close to his chest. You stumbled a little, your face pressed into the blue henley he wore under his dark gray jacket. “You’re gonna hurt my ego, peanut,” he said, more humor than hurt in his tone.

Your giggle was muffled in his shirt, your face still pressed into his hard chest. You were content to stay buried against Bucky, the scent of him surrounding you. He smelled so nice and comforting, like quiet snowy nights when the air tasted fresh and the wind nipped at your nose pleasantly.

You were about ready to make a home for yourself in Bucky’s chest, but he loosened his hold on your neck and tucked you back into his side. It felt like a loss, not to be so close to him, but you contented yourself with having his arm still around your shoulders as you continued following your friends through the crowded carnival grounds.

“I’d make a great stuffie,” Bucky went on, like you hadn’t just been nuzzling into his chest and sniffing his cologne. You hoped he hadn’t noticed, but if he had, he didn’t say anything. “I’m super cuddly.” He grinned, waggling his brown eyebrows at you.

A surprised laugh fell from your lips and you smacked his chest lightly with the back of your hand, falling back into the easiness of your friendship where you could be goofy with each other. “You’re ridiculous, Buck,” you chided good-naturedly, returning his grin with one of your own. “Besides, you’re too big to be a stuffie,” you said, pointedly eying his over-six-foot stature and the broadness of his shoulders.

Bucky hooted with laughter as your friends came to a stop at another carnival game stall. You and Bucky stood a little bit behind the rest of the group and he shifted behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and holding you with your back pressed to his chest. His breath was warm against your cheek as he dropped his head to speak in your ear.

“All the better for cuddling, peanut,” he murmured in a deep, quiet voice that sent heat shivering down your spine.

It felt a little bit like torture, standing there in Bucky’s arms like you were someone more special to him than just a friend, all the while knowing it was unlikely he felt the same as you. But you couldn’t seem to pull away. Instead, you leaned back against his chest, letting him hold you and pretending, just for the moment, that you were a real couple and not just the permanent third wheels of your friends.

Once some of the crowd in front of the carnival stall cleared, you saw your friends had decided to play the balloon dart game. It wasn’t your favorite and none of the prizes caught your eye, so when Steve and Nat turned to you and Bucky, inviting you both to play, you hung back. Bucky dropped his arms and moved past you, accepting some of the darts his friend offered. With everyone else engrossed in the game, you finished your cotton candy and slipped away to find a trash can for the paper stick.

While on your way back, you found another stall with much cuter prizes. There were a bunch of classic teddy bears strung up around the stall, all with soft-looking brown fur and cuddly bodies. They were a good size too, larger than a typical teddy bear, but not so big it would take two arms to hold one. Instantly, your heart yearned for one, knowing it’d be the perfect thing to cuddle when you inevitably went home alone.

But then you saw the game and it looked hard. There were a bunch of small bowls floating around in slow-swirling water, and the goal was to throw a ping pong ball into a specific color bowl to win a prize. It would require landing a ball in one of the very few blue bowls in order to win one of the teddy bears and your heart sank. You weren’t good at those kinds of carnival games. Just as fast as you let yourself want the teddy bear, you resigned yourself to never winning it, and started to walk away, not even wanting to try.

“Something catch your eye, peanut?” Bucky asked, materializing out of the crowd in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket and he glanced at the stall you’d been eyeing.

Forcing a smile, you shook your head and said, “Nah.” You wrapped your arms around your friend’s bicep and tried to steer him back in the direction of the balloon dart game, but Bucky wouldn’t budge. “What’re you doing, Buck?” you asked, looking up at him with a confused frown.

His blue eyes were intent on your face and he glanced back up at the teddy bears you’d been admiring. You suddenly got the impression he’d caught you staring at the prizes. As you watched, Bucky’s gaze fell to the game and he got a determined look on his face. He stepped forward, pushing through the small crowd in front of the game and dragging you, still clinging to his arm, along with him.

“Y’know, I think I’d like to try my hand at this game, peanut,” he said, handing some cash over to the carnival worker. “Wait for me while I play?”

The charming grin Bucky turned on you was magic—it must’ve been, because in that moment you would’ve done anything your friend asked of you. So you nodded and smiled and stood patiently at his side while Bucky accepted the little basket of ping pong balls from the carnival worker.

For the next few minutes, Bucky shot ball after ball at the bowls, and you could tell he was aiming for the blue ones, obviously trying to win one of the teddy bears. It warmed your heart and you started cheering him on. However, he kept missing the blue bowls and you found yourself hoping he’d hit his target—not so he’d win you a teddy bear but because you didn’t like seeing frustration bunch in his shoulders.

When Bucky was down to his last ball, he picked up and rolled it around in his hand for a moment, looking at it thoughtfully. Then he turned to you and held it up right in front of your mouth. “Blow on it for luck, peanut,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to your lips.

You could feel your friend’s gaze heavy on your mouth as you pursed your lips and blew on the ping pong ball gently, not believing for a second that it would give Bucky any luck at all. As you watched him, Bucky’s eyes darkened when your breath skated over his fingers, the look he gave you sending heat curling through your core. Before you could analyze the heat in his gaze, though, he turned and focused on lining up his shot, taking the warmth of his attention with him.

You held your breath when Bucky threw the ball, and gasped when it landed in one of the blue bowls.

Bucky raised his arms in triumph, letting out a loud whoop before turning and wrapping his strong arms around your waist, hauling you up against his chest and spinning you around until you got dizzy. Giggles tumbled freely from your lips, even after he set you down and turned to the slightly exasperated carnival worker. Bucky let you pick out which bear you wanted and the worker handed it over.

You hugged the bear tightly to your chest, burying a huge smile against its fur as Bucky led you away from the stall and back toward your friends. “Thanks, Bucky,” you mumbled, turning your face up to him to show him your big smile. “You didn’t have to win me anything, so thank you.” You wanted him to see how happy he’d made you and how much gratitude you felt for the teddy bear.

Something like shock froze on Bucky’s face when he got a look at you, and it seemed to take him a second before he could speak. “C’mon peanut,” he scoffed bashfully, a light pink tinging his cheeks as he wrapped his arm around the back of your neck and pulled you in close to him. The move made it so you couldn’t really look up at him anymore and you couldn’t help but think that was on purpose. “I couldn’t let you go home empty handed—not on Valentine’s Day.”

When you found your friends, they stood in a tight circle, showing off the prizes they’d won at the balloon dart game. Nat, Yelena and Steve each had a small toy, while Kate held a rather large stuffed penguin under her arm. She was boasting about her marksmanship as you and Bucky approached.

“Hey—nice bear!” Kate exclaimed, cutting herself off mid-sentence when she got a look at the prize you were holding.

You smiled and glanced up at Bucky, who was grinning proudly, his chest puffed up and everything. “Thanks, Bucky won it for me,” you said, letting Yelena and Kate draw you into a conversation. Your friends excitedly recounted exactly how many balloons they’d each hit to win their prizes.

Steve’s eyebrows raised at your remark and he shared a look with Nat before catching his best friend’s eye and tilting his head in your direction with a question in his eye. Bucky shook his head subtly so it wouldn’t draw your attention, returning his friend’s questioning look with a quelling one of his own. Steve and Nat both smirked.

The entire exchange escaped your notice since Yelena was busy showing you the little stuffed frog she’d won. It was about a tenth of the size of Kate’s penguin, but she was just as, if not more proud of it. You congratulated both your friends on their prizes, laughing as they started to squabble about where they would display the toys in the apartment they shared.

Once the conversation died down, you looked around at your friends and asked, “What’s next? Should we ride the swings—or the ferris wheel?” You bounced on the balls of your feet, excited for either. The sadness and disappointment over being the third wheel to your friends was momentarily forgotten and you were eager to spend more time with the group, enjoying everything the Valentine’s Day carnival had to offer.

But your enthusiasm was met with a weighted silence and sidelong glances.

“Ah, Nat and I were gonna grab some food,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, his eyes not meeting yours. He kept glancing at Bucky, though, you noticed. When you looked to Nat, she only offered an apologetic grimace and a shrug.

Your heart was dropping but Nat and Steve were only two of your friends. When you looked to Kate and Yelena, though, you could already tell from the looks on their faces that you weren’t going to like what they were about to say.

“Kate and I were gonna check out the tunnel of love,” Yelena said. Her apologetic expression was so similar to her sister’s, for just a moment they looked like identical twins.

The eager excitement you’d felt just moments before drained out of you. “Oh,” you said, your voice hollow and your feet flat on the frozen ground. “That’s okay, you guys have fun,” you said, fixing a smile on your face. You clung harder to the teddy bear in your arms, unable to look at any of your friends for fear they might see the tears shining in your eyes. You tried to blink them away, not wanting to make your friends feel bad for wanting to spend some time alone with their partners.

Nat’s fingers circled your wrist and gave it a comforting squeeze before she and Steve disappeared into the crowd in the direction of the food trucks. Yelena wrapped you in a quick hug, kissing your cheek and telling you she’d catch up with you later. Then she grabbed Kate’s hand and tugged her girlfriend toward the tunnel of love attraction. It was a staple of the Valentine’s Day carnival, but you’d never gone through it since it was more of a couples thing.

The desire to cry was an incessant, pounding headache behind your temple and you had to fight it off with your face buried in your teddy bear, not wanting Bucky to see how sad you were to be left alone again. It wasn’t his fault you felt so abandoned by your friends—you didn’t even blame them, not really—and you didn’t want him to think you weren’t grateful that he was the one who stuck around.

Somehow, Bucky knew exactly what you needed. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in the warmest hug he had to offer. It was such a sweet gesture, you almost lost the battle you were fighting with yourself not to break down crying. Thankfully, you managed to stave off the tears for a little while longer, but you suspected you were going to go home that night and spend a long time sobbing into your new teddy bear’s soft fur.

“It’s just you and me again, peanut,” Bucky murmured, one of his hands finding your cheek and tilting it up so he could see you. When he saw the look on your face, his expression softened, everything about him gentling, his touch so tender it nearly broke your heart. “It’s not so bad, is it—just you and me?” he asked in such a quiet voice you almost didn’t hear him over the loud noises of the carnival.

Nuzzling into his warm palm, you let your eyes slide closed, the action giving you a momentary reprieve from the headache pounding in your head. Shaking your head, you pressed yourself closer to Bucky, shifting your teddy bear to the side so you could slip your other arm around his waist, curling into the warmth he offered. “No, Buck,” you said, opening your eyes and blinking to clear your vision of a few tears. Your lips curved in a small smile as you looked up at him. “Being with you isn’t bad at all.”

You turned your head, brushing a kiss to his palm. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to do in that moment, but when you looked back at Bucky, his expression was stunned. He recovered quickly, but when he did, his gaze dropped to your mouth and your lips tingled with your desire to kiss him. Bucky’s eyes flicked back up to yours and you weren’t sure what he saw, but when he leaned in, it wasn’t your lips he kissed. Instead, he pressed a tender kiss to your cheek and you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“We’re gonna have a great time together, aren’t we, peanut?” Bucky asked in a rumbly voice that did things to your body. His blue eyes sparkled and his mouth was curled up at the edges in a tiny smile.

Nodding, you refocused on your friend and pushed aside all thought of kissing him. The sun was setting over the carnival grounds but you still had plenty of time before the workers began closing up for the night. “Yeah, Bucky, we’re gonna have fun,” you said, stepping back from your friend and putting some space between the two of you.

He let you go, his arms dropping by his sides. “Okay,” he said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together as he looked around. “So, swings or ferris wheel first?” His blue eyes sparked with excitement when they found yours, the bright lights of the carnival games playing over his handsome face.

It was enough to take your breath away, but you forced air into your lungs and responded. “Swings, please,” you said, some of your excitement returning to your tone.

Over the next few hours, Bucky kept you so busy, you forgot to feel sad about being left by your friends. He took you on the swings—not once or twice, but three times because you told him it was your favorite ride—then the Heart Flip, the Valentine’s Day carnival’s version of the typical teacups ride. Bucky even dragged you through the fun house, making silly faces in the distortion mirrors until you were laughing so hard, your stomach and cheeks hurt and tears of mirth were sliding down your face.

When your stomach growled, Bucky bought you all the junk food you could eat—popcorn, funnel cake, fried oreos. He even produced a heart-shaped lollipop from somewhere that you snacked on while waiting in line for the merry go ‘round. Then he helped you onto the unicorn you wanted to ride and took photos of you while you held your teddy bear and laughed.

It was turning out to be a great night, all thanks to Bucky. You knew you wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun at the Valentine’s Day carnival if it weren’t for him, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful to him. It may not have been the experience you’d always wished for—since you’d dreamed of going to the carnival with a significant other—but your friend was doing his damndest to give you everything you could ask for. And if you wanted a little more, to be more than friends with him, you’d resolved not to be greedy and just be happy with what he was willing to give.

“Ready for the ferris wheel, peanut?” Bucky asked, getting your attention and drawing you out of your thoughts. His nose was tipped in red and his cheeks were flushed, making the icy blue color of his eyes stand out against his fair skin and dark hair. A little smile curled just the edges of his lips as he looked at you expectantly, like he was waiting on you for more than just an answer about a carnival ride, though you couldn’t fathom what else he could be asking.

In that moment, all your thoughts of setting aside your selfishness fled and you knew you could love Bucky—you wanted to love him and be loved by him in return. You wanted it more than your next breath. But you’d been friends for so long and he’d never given you any hint he had feelings for you. The words you wanted to say stuck in your throat.

You didn’t even know how to express the way you felt, how you could explain to him the way your crush had slowly bloomed over the years you’d known each other. How it had grown into these big, overwhelming feelings that were so all-encompassing it felt like trying to explain the process of your heart beating. And besides, was the middle of the Valentine’s Day carnival, surrounded by screaming children and harried parents and cutesy couples, really the place to confess such things?

Closing your mouth against all the words threatening to tumble out, you swallowed and tried again. “Yep,” you said simply, mustering a smile and nodding for him to lead the way.

If Bucky noticed something was off about your voice or your expression, he didn’t say anything. He just wrapped an arm around your lower back and guided you in the direction of the ferris wheel. You leaned into his side as you waited your turn in line, still clutching the teddy bear he’d won you to your chest. You let yourself enjoy the moment, content to simply be with Bucky without stressing about your feelings for him.

It wasn’t a long line and soon you were climbing onto the bench of a gondola, tucking your bear between you and the side of the seat so you could be closer to Bucky. He sat beside you, not commenting on how your thighs brushed against each other while the carnival worker secured the safety rail.

As the gondola began to rise, Bucky slid his arm around your shoulders and tugged you in closer to his chest, making it feel like you were almost a real couple, taking a romantic ferris wheel ride together. The thought made your heart squeeze.

“So, peanut, are you having the Valentine’s Day carnival experience you always dreamed of?” Bucky asked.

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he sounded a little bit hopeful, but that didn’t make sense. Since your head was resting on his chest, you couldn’t see his expression or gauge his mood. But if he was feeling hopeful, you didn’t want to squash it by telling him the night didn’t quite live up to your wildest dreams.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, your answer almost flitting away on the wind as you rose higher in the night sky. It was colder in the air and you cuddled deeper into Bucky’s warmth. You didn’t really mean to say anything else, but you were distracted by the comforting smell of Bucky and whispered, “Almost.”

Somehow, your friend managed to hear you and he grumbled, the sound vibrating in his chest and tickling your cheek. “‘Almost’?” he asked. “We’re not settling for almost—what would make it better, peanut?”

Heaving a heavy sigh, you pushed away from Bucky, turning away from him and looking out over the carnival grounds. Everything seemed so far away, but you weren’t going to let the illusion of privacy lull you into having this conversation with your friend. “You can’t do anything else, Buck, you’re already doing everything you can,” you said.

Gentle fingers gripped your chin, turning you to face your friend, but you couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, instead staring at his stubble-covered jaw. He wouldn’t let you get away with that, though, ducking his head until he could look at you properly. “Tell me what I can do, peanut, I’d do anything to make you smile,” he said, sincerity in his voice and his gaze.

Closing your eyes against the rush of emotion those words stoked inside you, you had to take a minute, trying to talk yourself out of confessing anything to your friend. But the gondola came to stop at the very top of the ferris wheel and something about the way you felt so safe in Bucky’s arms, suspended so high up in the air, had words tumbling out of your mouth.

“I just—I always wanted to come to the carnival with someone special, someone I was dating, y’know?” you said, opening your eyes and watching Bucky’s face as he spoke. He looked like he wanted to interrupt, but you soldiered on. “It’s silly, but I just thought it would make the carnival that much more special to enjoy it with someone I love, someone who loves me, too.” You had to stop, your eyes dropping back to Bucky’s jaw, seeing it jump as he clenched his teeth. You didn’t want to think about what that meant, sure it was a bad sign. “Coming with my friends is fun, don’t get me wrong—I’ve gone to the carnival with Nat and Yelena almost every year of my life and I love them, but this year I don’t even have them.”

“You just have me,” Bucky said, a hollowness in his voice that made you glance up at him. He looked sad and defeated and you couldn’t stand the sight.

“Don’t say that like you’re a consolation prize, like you aren’t enough,” you said sharply. It was your turn to cup Bucky’s cheek and make him look at you so you could make sure he was hearing what you were saying.

He smiled sadly, his mouth curling up in the way you loved, but his blue eyes were so mournful, it made your heart crack a little. “But I’ve tried all night to show you how special you are to me, peanut, and it’s still not enough.”

The cold night air froze in your lungs and confusion made you frown. “What?” you asked, the question sounding dumb to your ears.

A breeze swept between your bodies, catching your hair and sending it swirling. Bucky tucked it behind your ear, looking down at you with a mixture of somberness and fondness in his gaze. “I wanted to make this the best Valentine’s Day carnival for you because I wanted to show you how good I could be for you,” he admitted. “So maybe you’d want me to be your valentine—your special someone.”

“Bucky,” said on a sharp exhale. Your brain was slow to process his words, too weighed down by the many emotions you’d felt that night.

He seemed to misinterpret your reaction, looking away. His jaw flexed, the muscle jumping and making you want to soothe it with your touch. “If you don’t feel that way about me, I understand,” he said, his voice rough like gravel, the words sounding like he was wrenching them forcefully from the depths of his chest. “I’m happy to be your pal, your buddy, your fellow third wheel forever.” He wiped a hand down over his face, but you noticed he hadn’t tried to pull away. “Seriously, I don’t want you to feel pressured...”

“I like you, too, Buck,” you blurted, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Bucky’s head whipped around to look at you. The lights of the carnival lit up his face, tentative hope sparking in his eyes. “What?” he asked, echoing your earlier confusion.

“I’ve had a crush on you for ages,” you confessed, a blush rising in your cheeks even though he’d just admitted his own feelings for you. A weight lifted off your shoulders and you sat up, your hands pressing against Bucky’s chest, his pecs firm beneath your fingertips. “I like you, Bucky Barnes,” you said firmly.

For years after that night, you and Bucky would argue over what exactly caused the feeling of your stomach dropping and your heart soaring—whether it was the ferris wheel or his kiss. He, of course, would say it was the result of him finally, finally, kissing you, while you’d argue it was just the ferris wheel. Later, though, when he’d kissed all the giggles from your lips, you’d admit he was right. It had been all him. He’d grin arrogantly and smother you in even more kisses.

That night, when Bucky kissed you for the first time, his head ducking and his lips finding yours as the ferris wheel descended from its peak, you were briefly dizzy with all the sensations. Your stomach fluttered and your heart pounded excitedly in your chest, your whole body warming as Bucky wrapped you up in his arms and kissed you tenderly. It was the sweetest first kiss you’d ever had. Bucky’s lips were soft against yours, gentle with you like he always was—like you were something precious he was fearful of losing.

Slowly, his mouth grew more insistent, his tongue sliding against the seam of your lips and begging for entrance. You parted your lips, opening yourself to him and when he slid inside, you could taste the eagerness on his tongue. It matched the fervor that sang through your whole body. You kissed him back, matching his passion with every bit of your own.

When Bucky finally pulled away, you were left breathless and a little bit stunned. Satisfaction made you smile when you got a look at Bucky’s face, seeing him looking a little stunned, too. He was quick to duck back down and kiss the smile from your face, his lips curling up in a grin and his teeth knocking against yours, making you both laugh.

“Alright, lovebirds, let’s go,” a gruff voice broke into the little bubble of happiness that surrounded you and Bucky.

You looked up and found the carnival worker manning the ferris wheel looking at you expectantly as he held the safety rail open, some teenagers snickering behind him. You blushed, but grabbed your teddy bear, hiding half your face in the fur as Bucky helped you out of the gondola and led you to the exit. His fingers tangled in yours as he held your hand, walking with you through the carnival grounds.

“So peanut, you gonna put me out of misery already?” Bucky asked, glancing down at you with happiness clear on his face, his mouth spread in a grin like he couldn’t keep himself from smiling. His blue eyes were sparkling and you couldn’t stop staring at the man you knew you were falling for. When you didn’t respond, he went on. “Are you gonna be my valentine?”

Giggling happily, you nodded. “Of course I’ll be your valentine, Buck.”

Bucky twirled you around, pulling you off to the side of the crowd and ducked his head, capturing your lips in another kiss. You didn’t know if you’d ever get enough of his kiss, and you gripped greedy fingers in the front of his jacket, clinging to him while he kissed you senseless. After long moments, he pulled back, his eyes roving over your face like he still couldn’t believe it was real, that you were his to kiss.

You couldn’t really wrap your head around it either. It was a little unbelievable that the two of you, who had met and become friends because you were the third wheels of your group, would actually develop feelings for each other. But it was your reality, and you couldn’t wait to explore the new aspects of your relationship with Bucky. The fact that you were the forever third wheels no more was just a bonus.

“So, what’s next?” you asked Bucky excitedly, half hoping he’d suggest going home so you could kiss him more in the privacy of one of your homes. And maybe do more than kiss…

“Duh, peanut,” Bucky said, a teasing grin on his face as he started leading you through the crowd, seeming to know exactly where he was going. His blue eyes shone with affection and adoration as he looked down at you, dropping a kiss to your lips before continuing on. “The tunnel of love.”

For the rest of the night, Bucky made your Valentine’s Day dreams come true, helping you to enjoy the carnival with someone special—him. Then, he took you home and you made out on the couch like teenagers until neither of you could keep your eyes open. You left your teddy bear on the couch as you and Bucky headed to the bedroom and though you felt a little bad about leaving it behind, Bucky had been right, he was very good at cuddling. You fell asleep, curled up in Bucky’s arms, both of you smiling.

Every year after that, Bucky was your date to the Valentine’s Day carnival, and each year he endeavored to make it better than the last. Every year, he succeeded.

2K notes · View notes

dilf-whore · 2 years ago

Note

Pregnancy baby trope baby daddy Neteyam x reader please

TELLING NETEYAM YOURE PREGNANT 😩😩😩😩😩😩

Tsahik Always Knows

Oh my god!! Daddy Neyetam would be so sweet! Also, I'm sorry for the lack of posts, I've been studying overseas and this course is an intensive fieldwork unit so I have had like no time to think. Additionally, some of my tags are working and some are not - I'm so sorry if I miss out on tagging you!

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar)

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none. Vomit? Fluff?

Words: 1.8k

Author’s Notes:

Neteyam is 24, reader is 23, established relationship. AU where they never left the forest and Jake is still Olo’eyktan, Neteyam will take that mantle eventually,, happy-happy can’t read or write any more angst for real.

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Tag List: @lilprettypetite @nyotamalfoy @weasleytwinwheezes @aonungs-tsahik @rainbowsocks @glitterandgoldfinds @bluealiensimp @melsunshine @ussoppl @wondxrgurll @luvlykrispy @myheartfollower @gloryavila

Read Below Cut:

You stared at the remnants of last night’s dinner on the floor. You had vomited, again. This had been happening in the mornings, on and off for the last few weeks. You did not feel sick, so why were you sick?

Normally the vomit happened at home. Normally Neteyam had already left to tend to his duties. Normally you could clean it up and pretend like it never happened.

The heat of your embarrassment swarmed over your neck and shoulders, sweeping up into your cheeks and ears. You knelt, frozen in place over the bile you had just produced.

On Mo’at’s tent floor.

She was practically, and legally, your grandmother, and had been since you were nineteen-years-old. But you never thought of her like that. She was your Tsahik, your teacher, your elder, your spiritual guide, healer of the Omaticaya.

And you had vomited on her floor.

Mo’at cleared her throat, sitting across from you, your shameful vomit between you. Tears welled in your eyes. This was the worst day of your life.

“Well, luckily it was just you and me here, hm,” Mo’at said with an unusual lightness, a sweetness that was enough to spin you out of your own thoughts.

“My Tsahik, I am so sorry I do not know-”

“Don’t be stupid, how can you not know?” The typical biting Mo’at that you were familiar with came back, quickly. The woman leaned forward with a cloth, mopping up your watery bile like a dealdly secret to be kept between the Tsahik and her assistant.

Now, you really did not know what she meant. You sat up taller, finding a cloth to wipe your mouth clean, something tangible to hold onto.

“My Tsahik, I promise you, I do not know what you think I know.” You whispered into the cloth at your mouth. Mo’at discarded her cloth that blotted your vomit into a wooden bowl. Some poor trainee will deal with it later. She squinted at you, taking you in. Harshly, she grabbed at your wrists, inspecting your palms, and your shaking, delicate fingers.

She huffed as she held your wrist tightly in her left, her right hand poking at your cheek, breasts and thighs. “Hey!” you had enough of her prodding, as you pulled your wrist from her vice-like grip.

“Lay down. Now.” The Tsahik made moves to push you back onto the woven mats on the floor. You were scared and confused and honestly, getting rather emotional. You were still reeling over the embarrassment the vomit caused you. More and more these days you found yourself crying over nothing, or getting easily embarsassed.

You laid still, scared of Mo’at, and, scared of vomiting again. Flat on your back, you stared at the keen weavings of Mo’at’s medical tent. You hissed, looking down, Mo’at has placed a cold hollowed stone on your lower stomach, her ear pressed against it, she furrowed her brow bone.

The elder woman jerked up once she was satisfied, discarding her stone instrument, she settled back into her seated position on the floor, you mirroring her.

“Tsahik-”

“You are with child, quite obviously.” Mo’at had cut you off, while simultaneously giving you news that ripped all the air from your lungs.

Your mind was spinning. You were happy, you were sad, you were excited, you were embarrassed. How could you not see the signs within yourself? Obviously you and Neteyam mated often-

Oh, Eywa.

Neteyam.

You were going to have to tell him.

It was not like you both hadn’t spoken on the topic before, you knew you both wanted kids, a family. Additionally, children were expected, a future Olo'eyktan must be secured.

But the two of you had not planned for it to happen so soon. You had been so careful, tonics and teas. God, Neteyam pulled out most of the time.

Subconsciously one hand laid across your abdomen, the other covering your mouth. You felt your eyes struggling to focus on Mo’at, on anything really. You felt like a shell. A shell with a small shell inside.

“How far along?” You whispered, normally you would scold yourself for your informality towards Mo’at, but you would give yourself a break just this once.

“A month, maybe two. Nothing more, nothing less. You are not physically showing yet but you cannot be far away.” The rare gentleness from Mo’at rose its head once again. You were grateful for it. “Now, my lovely girl, go. Go collect yourself and tell my grandbaby that you’re having my great-grandbaby.” Mo’at said softly, helping you to your feet.

You couldn’t remember the short walk from Mo’at’s tent to the home you shared with Neteyam. You felt as if you were on auto-pilot, blacking out and teleporting from place to place. You quickly sat on the side of your shared bed. Furs and gossamer blankets providing comfort to your shaking legs. Laying back, you stared at the gossamer canopy Neteyam had only recently erected above your bed, dangling your legs off the side.

You rested your hands on your stomach, trying to etch into your memory what it felt like now, knowing that it will eventually swell with the growth of your baby.

Neteyam’s baby.

Realistically, you knew that Neteyam won’t be angry. Shocked? Maybe. But angry? Neteyam had never, ever been angry with you before. Emotionally? It was a different story, you imagined Neteyam being frustrated and screaming at you. You imagined him being disappointed. You imagined him packing his things and leaving. The passing thoughts alone were enough to put you on edge.

Sighing aloud, you had a look at the water clock resting on the other side of the room, you still had a few hours before Neteyam was to return. You still had a few hours to pull yourself together and work out how you were going to spit it out.

Neteyam ran his hands over his face, pulling up his ionar onto his forehead. His whole body burned from that flight. He had missed you today, not usually staying out on patrol this late, but the young recruits needed training, and Neteyam was always eager to please. But, he was a domestic man at heart, he loved being at home with you, loved pulling you to his chest, loved making whatever new thing you asked for.

He loved nesting, he realised. Loved doing it with you.

Striding from the Ikran keeper, Neteyam wanted nothing more than to see you.

The warm lights of your home welcomed him, though when he peered through the gap in the curtain flap, all he saw was your anxious figure, pacing back and forth, muttering to yourself. The air was wrong, Neteyam had never really seen you like this. He watched quietly, confused as to how you had not scent him already, something was wrong with you and he would be damned if he did not find out what.

“Oh Eywa, what am I supposed to say?” You prayed silently, wringing your wrists. You thought the pacing would bring you clarity, as it often provided your father-in-law. Yet you felt empty. And so unbearably full at the same time. In the few hours you had to wait for your mate you had come to love the little life growing in your womb.

You were so excited. You could hardly contain yourself. Neteyam would be the most perfect father. But as the night grew closer your brain started to pick itself apart.

It was all too much. You fell to your knees in the middle of your home, letting the tears flow freely now.

Neteyam did not let that stand for long. He quickly rushed in, picking you up and placing you in his lap. His strong arms snaking around your sobbing form. Your head quickly found is chest. He felt your hot tears streaming down your beautiful face and onto his skin. Neteyam hushed you, like he watched his mother do with his siblings, gently rocking you back and forth. It was so silent, save from your sobbing hiccups. Neteyam did not dare speak until you had stopped.

“My love, what has happened?” He asked gently, pulling away to cup your delicate face in his large, calloused hands. His eyes found yours, and he could see something was creating great turmoil in the labyrinth of your complicated, intelligent mind.

You sighed in response, shaking your head. Trying to find any courage at all. Knowing you have news that will change the course of someone’s life was not something you dealt with well. Maybe you were not cut out to be the clan’s spiritual leader as Tsahik. But that was a different problem for a different day.

Neteyam placed a chaste kiss to your lips, then your cheeks, under your eyes, the tip of your nose, your forehead. You were loved, he said through the gesture. You are safe here.

“Neteyam,” You started, softly. You were always softspoken. Something of which drove Neteyam crazy in love with you. So gentile, so docile, so calm. “I have something to tell you.” Neteyam’s stomach started to flip at your words, anxiety settling in, but like any good soldier, he willed his face into a blank expression. Giving nothing away.

And, in turn, giving you nothing.

“Continue my little love.” He said, putting your baby hairs behind your ears, smoothing your loose hair down as you spoke.

“Neteyam,” You cleared your throat, forcing that invisible, metaphysical bubble away. “I am with child.” The words hung in the air between you, and all you could do was wait for your mate to respond.

Neteyam felt like he was dreaming. Of all the things he prepared for you to say, you being pregnant was not one of them.

His tail betrayed him before his mouth did. Rapidly going side to side, the smile that erupted on Neteyam’s face threatened to split his jaw apart.

You were carrying a baby. His baby. Your baby, together, with him.

You melted into Neteyam’s searing kiss as he held you flush to his body. Pulling apart, Neteyam’s hands rested on your stomach, bright eyed and smily. He kissed your stomach over and over and over again. Peppering the whole area with his hot lips. You giggled at him. He was perfect.

“Oh (y/n), I am so happy.” Neteyam kissed you again, your giggles erupting between kisses as he could not decide on what he wanted to look at, your face or your stomach. “How long have you known, sweetheart?” He rested his forehead on yours, his hands resting on your still flat stomach.

“I found out earlier today.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Your grandmother knew.”

Neteyam laughed, his shoulders shaking, beads of his braids clinking together.

“She knows everything.”

That night as the two of you laid in bed, Neteyam spooning you, you rose out of your slumber briefly. Neteyam’s tail had wrapped itself around your thigh, your own tail sat under your abdomen of its own accord. Neteyam’s fingers splayed over your stomach. He was so protective already. So in love with you and your unborn baby.

You smiled. Shutting your eyes you thanked Eywa for gifting you with something so precious.

8K notes · View notes

dilf-whore · 2 years ago

Text

— 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘴

the deets — in which you, a quiet healer in the tribe, have the biggest crush on the upcoming leader. sometimes you think the feelings could be mutual. until one night in the glowing forest shatters that.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — like 7.6k (jesus h. christ)

the tags — idiots-to-lovers (it's teyam, he's the dummy), childhood friends-to-lovers, one-sided pining (reader is a softie).

the warnings — language, a lil kithy kithy, neteyam's emotionally constipated, but he redeems himself! reader's kind of a pushover, but it comes full circle!

the notes — first post for avatar & i'm really excited but a lil nervous bc like ??? i haven't written fanfic in SO long. i imagine neteyam & reader to be a few years older in this fic (eighteen or nineteen), but at the same time the circumstances could fit their current age as well. finally, this is written in a heinous blend of second / third. don't know how to explain, but i think it flows okay? if you like it please leave a request or let's have a chat! (also barely proofread oops).

YOU AND NETEYAM HAVE ALWAYS BEEN IN DISTANT ORBIT. Many would argue the two of you are cut from the same cloth; quiet, noble, mature, but you couldn't feel even more disconnected from the tribe's golden boy even if a chasm would crack the earth between you.

It's why you think it's silly that you'd develop such a yearning, your heart thudding like a war drum every time his amber eyes flit to yours. There's never any weight to his gaze, just fleeting glances among frequent observation, but you can't help but stare.

It doesn't help that his youngest siblings cling to you like a second and third skin, chattering excitedly about whatever piques their immediate interest. You just listen and hum your acknowledgements, a comfort to the two as you move through your studies.

Oftentimes he's sent to fetch his siblings, clearing his throat outside of the tent's flaps to announce himself, then wiggling a few fingers through the opening before peering in.

He's always in a hurry, never biting when you offer him opportunities to linger. You understand, how busy it can be when the whole clan begins to rely on you. So you bask in the short-lived moments in his space, skin scented with salt and the tang of the foliage.

But there are moments when you truly think he sees you. When you cross paths during clan meals, and the smallest of smiles twitches in his lips when you cut fruit and he's the first you offer to. When it's time to train to shoot your bows and he adjusts your form with a brief brush of his fingers on your elbow. When all of the older healers are unavailable and he shyly peeks his head into your tent for a quick patch up.

Nevermind the small tells stored in your short-term, but the little slivers of time when you were both growing into yourselves. When you were seven and he'd carried you to the elders when you hurt yourself. When some of the older kids in the clan would pick on you for keeping to yourself and he'd tell them that it was unbecoming and cowardly to pick on someone weaker than them. When he picked a flower during a group excursion into the deep depths of the forest and stuck the glowing stem in your satchel.

You had fallen so hard for Neteyam and your only hope is that he'd be at the end of the fall to catch you.

“You're not listening, ________!” Tuk whines and you look up from the scrolls you unfurled from the basket moments before she walked in.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I have a lot on my mind.”

There's a small giggle from somewhere else in the tent and you peer from Tuk to Kiri who beads an anklet on her own.

“Yeah, like big brother,” Tuk teases, turning her attention back to her own beadwork.

Kiri's face splits into a grin.

“You've been lost in thought a lot more recently,” she observes. “Could Tuk be correct?”

You don't bother to deny it, the obvious flush in your cheeks a dead giveaway. Kiri's always been perceptive and the more you fight her on it, the longer she'll draw it out.

“I think it's worth a shot,” Kiri says. “Neteyam’s always had a soft spot for you.”

It's a million degrees hotter in the tent.

“You don't have to do that,” you say quietly, slouching in your seat.

“Do what?” Kiri challenges.

“Pretend I have a chance.”

Kiri makes a face.

“You do!” she argues. “Neteyam's just shy.”

You're silent for a moment, fingers twitching over a tear in the scroll. You want to believe her, tell her that you think it could be worth a shot, too. But you scent him before you hear him, and then you hear him before you see him.

Four blue fingers wiggle in the tent's opening before Neteyam is poking his head inside.

“Tuk? Kiri?” his voice rumbles. “Ready?”

Kiri glances at you as she stands to her feet and begins gathering her things. Her eyebrows do a little dance, eyes widening as she tilts her head discreetly to her brother.

“I'll see you,” you say quietly, patting Tuk on the back of her leg as she drops her finished anklet in your lap and giggles at you.

You follow their movements as they exit the tent through where Neteyam holds the flap open for them patiently.

He simply lifts a hand as a silent greeting and you wait until they're out of sight and earshot to expel the breath you'd been holding and slump down on your pillow.

In hindsight, you should have been more careful. Neteyam was a skillful hunter, the tribe's best warrior after his father. It's only normal that he'd be in the dense forest when you were plucking flowers and herbs for your salves, speaking quietly to Eywa about your concerns.

“Please, Great Mother,” you whisper, the woodsprites caressing the skin of your arms. "Please give me a sign, any form of motivation to be brave about my feelings."

The grass below your toes lights up and tickles the pads of your fingers as you pluck the glowing flowers.

There's a trail of them, purple and pink, and you pluck and pluck and pluck until you're led to the mouth of a clearing.

Something salty and tangy circles your figure and like usual, you scent him before you see him. When your gaze latches onto his lithe figure, you grin a little, lips parting to announce yourself. This must be your sign, of how vast and great the forests are surrounding your looming home tree, it must be fate that you stumble upon him at this hour.

But his name dies on your tongue when he shifts and you see the silhouette of another pressed to his side.

It's another Omaticaya girl, pretty and tall. You'd know her anywhere, the waves of her thick hair, the tinkle of her dainty laugh. But she is fierce all the same, far from perfect, but gritty enough that it doesn't matter.

Te'feyra draws a bow and one of Neteyam's hands come up to adjust her front grasp, fingers closing over hers and the arrow.

“Steady hands to make up for the recoil,” he says softly and your heart is in your throat.

He's engulfing her as she takes her aim and sends the arrow flying through the air.

Somewhere unknown to you, the arrow sticks its landing and Te'feyra jumps excitedly, pressing her lips to Neteyam's briefly.

You back away from the clearing, eyes burning as you fist the flowers so hard they wilt in your hands. A twig snaps underneath your weight and from your distance, you see the glow of Neteyam and Te'feyra's eyes through the brush.

You take off running without a single word, and despite your stomach tearing itself to ribbons, you thank Eywa for the clarity.

“Something's wrong,” Kiri says to you days later.

Instead of the tent, you two are sitting on opposing branches of a thick tree, observing the flora and fauna of your corner of the forest. You decide that you need some time away from the bustle of the clan's circle and venture off into the opposite side of the woods.

“Why do you say?” you wonder, scribbling onto one of your scrolls.

“You're naturally quiet, I get that, but the past few days, I feel like I've been in the presence of the dead,” she sighs, staring down at you from the branch above. “And Ewya's given me the feeling that all may not be well with you.”

You lick your teeth, then roll your lips nervously.

“I told you Neteyam didn't like me,” you admit.

Kiri's eyebrows furrow.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw him,” you sigh, fiddling with your pen. “In the forest with Te'feyra. She kissed him.”

Kiri curses under her breath.

“This is stupid,” she huffs. “He's just being stupid. Neteyam likes you and I'm going to prove it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Kiri's already jumping down from the branches of the tree and dragging you with her through the darkening forest.

“Kiri, this isn't necessary,” you finally pipe up. “It's okay if the feeling isn't mutual, I never expected it to be.”

Kiri stops in her tracks and her pinched face softens, braids swinging by the set of her jaw.

“________, we all grew up together,” she says softly. “I know my brother, and I know you. You two belong together, I feel it.”

You swallow around nothing, allowing her to drag you through the forest and back into the clan's main circle.

“Hey, Kiri! ________, where are you two headed off to in such a rush?” one of the elders calls from where they're working on tools.

Kiri smiles politely.

“Very important business,” she replies quickly, fingers tightening around your wrist to pull you across the grass.

You stop in front of their family's hometree and Kiri guides you through vines and steep inclines before pausing in front of their family's tent.

Lo'ak's voice sounds from within, whiny and irritated.

“Bro, are you being serious right now?” he squeaks and Neteyam grunts, obviously bored.

“Frankly, Lo'ak this has nothing to do with you,” he says.

“Dude, yes it does,” Lo'ak argues. “You've inadvertently involved everyone in this affair because you won't get your head out of your ass for three seconds and just admit that you like her.”

“I don't like, ________,” he says simply and Kiri freezes in front of you.

You chew the inside of your cheek, fingers twitching in Kiri's loosened hold.

“Who are you trying to convince?” Lo'ak moans. “You're really going to commit to Te'feyra even though you have no interest in her?”

“Te'feyra is a great huntress,” Neteyam says simply. “She's well-loved, a strong leader. What's there not to like?”

“________ is all of those things,” Lo'ak says. “She's a talented healer, always patches you up when you get yourself in trouble. The clan loves her, Tuk and Kiri love her, Mom and Dad love her.”

“The clan barely knows that ________ exists,” Neteyam says and you wince.

Kiri makes a move to infiltrate the heated conversation, but you put a hand on her shoulder and shake your head.

“Dude, that's low,” Lo'ak scoffs in disbelief.

“________ is a sweet girl, but she's weak. She's hollow and does what she's told. I wouldn't want to spend my life bonded to someone so passive,” Neteyam says plainly and Lo'ak lets out an exasperated hiss.

“You're kidding right? ________ is amazing,” Lo'ak challenges. “She's quiet, but she's caring. She's resilient and intelligent and anyone would be lucky to be bonded to someone like her, your stupid ass included.”

“Maybe you should focus more on training for your rite rather than trying to play matchmaker,” Neteyam says, showing the first signs of annoyance.

“You just won't admit that for the first time you're scared,” Lo'ak finally says.

Everything seems to still and Lo'ak presses on.

“Everyone loves you, you're the clan's golden child and you can do no wrong. You like ________ so much, but you're afraid that you'll let her down,” Lo'ak says fiercely. “But you don't realize that being a pussy about your feelings is the ultimate let down!”

“You'd know a lot about being a let down, wouldn't you,” Neteyam grumbles.

There's a split second of silence before Neteyam lets out a loud grunt of pain. The flap to their tent flies open and Lo'ak freezes before you and Kiri.

His eyes meet yours and his gaze softens before stalking past.

Neteyam stands stunned in the middle of the tent, lip bruised and bleeding. His gaze swings to the arch way, face falling when he finds you standing behind his younger sister.

“Wanna go swimming?” Tuk asks you the next evening, after dinner.

You smile down at her weakly, heart melting when she pets your hand. You can't deny her, nodding gently as you stand from where you're sitting on the outer circle of the scattered clan.

“Carry me?” she asks sweetly.

You heave her up with a grunt and she grins at you, playing with one of the braids in your hair. Her small fingers caress the skin of your cheek and you blink when she ghosts over your eyelid.

“Pretty,” she whispers, head nestling on your shoulder.

“I think you're prettier,” you tell her, readjusting her growing form as you walk through the brush, towards the rush of the waterfall.

You don't realize that there's a set of eyes on you, watching as you disappear through the trees with Tuk.

The cliff that houses the waterfall towers above you two in a semicircle, the water rippling gently as Tuk squirms from your grasp and splashes through the shallow pool.

“Stay close, Tuk,” you coo, toes wiggling through the pebbles washed up on the tiny shore.

“I've been practicing!” Tuk tells you. “Wanna see how long I can hold my breath under water?”

“Stay in shallow waters,” you advise her, wading into the pool until you're waist deep.

Tuk dramatically inhales and then sinks down under the surface. Something cracks in the distance and you glance around, met with the stillness of the forest and the chirp of bugs.

When you turn your attention back to Tuk, you smile fondly as you wait for her to emerge, counting the seconds diligently to report to her chubby cheeks.

Fifteen pass, then thirty. Your smile begins to fade as your arms feel around in the water around you.

“Tuk?” you call out, chest tightening when you're met with the subtle rush of the glittering cascade from the waterfall up above.

You push forward in the water until your chin touches the surface.

“Tuktirey!” you shout, thrashing around the pool, searching for her tiny frame through the illumination. “Tuk!”

Your toes lose purchase as the water deepens and you begin to panic without the youngest Sully in sight. You turn when you hear a splash, Tuk giggling on the shore.

Your stomach churns hard and Tuk's face falls when she sees your panicked expression.

“Tuk, I-I can't swim well!” you cry out, legs flailing as you splash through the water. You try to dig your toes in the earth below, but you're just shy of the mark.

Tuk looks scared on the shore, fidgeting as she looks around desperately.

“You're too deep, ________!” Tuk whines, voice laced with tears.

Your legs ache, head lolling under the water for a moment before you emerge with a splutter.

“Get– Go get help!” you instruct her, feeling your calves begin to burn as you try to keep yourself afloat. You don't know how long you'll be able to tread water. “I'll be okay, little one. Hurry!”

Tuk turns, picking up her satchel as she makes way for the path you took. When she's out of sight, you fall slack, chest heaving as you try to use your skinny arms to paddle at the water.

Meanwhile, Tuktirey runs through the forest, tears spilling down her rounded cheeks as she trips over sprawling roots and nudges low-hanging vines from the pathway.

She skids to a stop when Neteyam, who had finally worked up the nerve to excuse himself from dinner, comes into view.

He turns when he hears her wailing, face scrunching when he registers his youngest sibling's anguish.

“Tuk, wha—”

She grabs at his hands, tugging him towards the path to the waterfall.

“________ needs help!” she cries. “She can't swim!”

Neteyam's ears prick at the mention of your name, scooping up his youngest sibling in his arms before breaking into a sprint through the brush of the brightening forest. The woodsprites begin to emerge and he barrels into the clearing of the waterfall breathlessly.

It's still, like it's been untouched and his heart hammers nervously in his chest, eyes searching the pool for any sign of you.

He's setting Tuk down quickly before splash desperately into the water.

“_______!” he calls.

He ducks underneath the surface, eyes open wide as he searches for you. And there you are, body slack as you sink slowly to the bottom of the rocky pool.

He dives forward, lungs burning as he cuts through the waters with lean arms. His fingers circle one of your wrists, the other hand winding around your waist as he propels you two up above the water. He chokes on a breath, hand coming up to touch your face.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes shut as Neteyam holds you close.

“Neteyam!” Te'feyra calls from the shore, having followed him after being rebuffed during dinner.

Kiri and Lo'ak are close behind, eyes wide when they see their eldest brother wading quickly through the waters with your unconscious form in his arms.

“Neteyam,” Te'feyra repeats, hand coming to grasp his bicep.

“Not now,” he grunts, tugging his arm from her grasp to march through the brush of the forest.

Woodsprites surround you two as he takes you back to the village, a silent plea to the Great Mother not to take you away weighing heavy on his lips.

You awake to a shining sun and a wet towel on your head. You squint against the beaming light and sit up abruptly as the prior night dawns you like a swift strike to the gut.

“Whoa, wait, slow down,” a thick voice rumbles.

You scent him before you see him.

Neteyam's hands are on you, guiding you back to rest on the pile of pillows that had propped you up before.

You shoot up again anyways.

“Where's Tuk?” you ask anxiously.

“Tuk's fine,” Neteyam says. “She's eating breakfast with Kiri and Mom.”

You lean back in relief, eyes squeezing shut as you wheeze out a sigh.

His hands are on you again, gentle, warm as he takes the towel from your forehead and wipes your face to refresh you.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, hesitantly.

You pause a moment, but then nod.

“Yeah,” you affirm hoarsely. “M'fine.”

Neteyam just stares at you, yellow eyes unblinking and you know this isn't like one of those fleeting moments. He sees you and it makes your gut churn hard.

“I'll be okay here,” you say quietly. “You may have...someone, you know, waiting for you.”

Te'feyra's name is a silent implication and Neteyam doesn't look amused.

“I told them I would look after you until you're fully well,” he counters, wringing the towel into a bowl that sits next to the mound of blankets your rest on.

You fiddle with your fingers, fully disheartened because even in times like these, he remains the diligent leader-in-training that he is.

The air in the tent is think and you can't breathe.

“I'd like some air,” you whisper, crawling from the soft mat to climb to your feet shakily.

“You need to rest,” Neteyam says crossly, seemingly annoyed at your persistence to put as much distance as you can between the two of you.

You don't respond and finally he seems to burst.

“You can't swim and yet you still went after Tuk,” he calls after you like an accusation. “Why?”

You pause.

“Tuk is like a sister to me,” you say quietly. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

You make a move to exit the tent, but Neteyam's voice stops you in your tracks.

“You could have died,” he says quietly, and you can't place the emotion in his voice.

“I'd do it again,” you admit, craning your neck to face him. “I'm not that weak.”

Neteyam's face falls and you duck from the tent.

Neteyam becomes restless after that moment. He loses his focus, agility taking a hit as he hunts one on one with his father.

He goes to shoot another arrow, but Jake stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Neteyam, I know I can be hard on you,” he starts. “But I’m always here.”

“Yes sir,” Neteyam nods.

“Something’s bothering you,” Jake observes. “You’re not yourself. You’re losing focus.”

Neteyam swallows.

“Sorry, sir,” he says, head hanging.

His braids form a curtain around his face and Jake gives his shoulder a squeeze.

“Son?”

Neteyam swallows again, head tilting up to look is dad in the face.

“I don’t want to be with Te’feyra,” he admits quietly.

Jake's lips twitch.

“Well I could have told you that,” Jake scoffs, the corner of his lips twitching into a soft smile. “You look about as dead as a washed up fish when she’s around.”

Neteyam recalls the kiss she’d given him nights ago and how he'd internally recoiled, body stiff under her touch.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Why are you sorry?” Jake prods.

“Because I know Te’feyra is who the clan wants me to be with, who is my most suitable match,” he says. “I just— I don't want to let you down.”

Jake gives him an impish grin.

“Neteyam, let me give you a word of advice. There are things in this world that are suited well for each other; you and Te'feyra are one of those things. But your heart and your mind are the two most powerful things about you,” he says. “You will not be punished for giving into your heart.”

Neteyam thinks of you. He thinks of your face, the lines of your timid smile, the idents that dimple your cheeks. He thinks of your touch when he's wounded, gentle and expert, warm against his skin. He thinks of your voice, airy, soft, a low rasp.

He thinks of when he'd called you weak. Of your face, wounded and hurt. He's stricken in this moment as he realizes that strength doesn't have to be audacious. It can be quiet, small acts that become mighty.

Tuk had told him about the waterfall, how she'd wanted to pull your leg a little. You'd accepted your fate if Ewya deemed it time, you'd even sent the youngest away in the chance you wouldn't surface.

You were far from weak. Your strength ran nearly as deep as the roots of Ewya herself, yet you'd taken the criticism in stride. Let Neteyam paint you as a coward, a pushover with no spine.

“I think there’s someone you need to clear the air with,” Jake says after a few moments of silence. “She should be in her tent.”

Neteyam's hands are clammy. It's been nearly a week since he'd last seen you. You'd reserved to spending time inside of your tent to brush up on your studies and refine your work. He'd catch glimpses of you, but you were used to blending in the background and Neteyam's used to overlooking you.

Was he being presumptuous? Maybe you only admired him as a warrior. Or perhaps it was a duty to the clan to revere him. He feels sick to his stomach thinking of confronting you. But Lo'ak wouldn't try to convince him of his own feelings if it wasn't mutual, would he?

And when had the feelings become mutual? He's recently began to think that perhaps he'd always liked you because you were the only one who didn't actively vie for his affection. Who only saw him as Neteyam, an equal, not Neteyam, the Olo’eyktan's son.

Maybe it was whenever he'd see you wandering in the forest during his hunting trips, murmuring to yourself as you picked herbs and flowers for you studies. Or maybe when he'd spot you still high on the branches of the lofty trees with a tablet of paper and ink. Maybe it was when you'd smile at him shyly when he'd adjust your form during archery and it'd melt his insides. Or when you two were little and he'd plucked flowers for everyone and you were the only one who'd smiled at it sticking out of your satchel.

If he recalls correctly, it's pressed to a scroll hanging in your tent and that alone makes his heart race.

Maybe you two are inevitable and he'd only prolonged it because of his own fears.

“Neteyam!”

Te’feyra steps in his line of sight, standing before him and the hometree that houses your tent. He glances away when she stops in front of him.

“Te’feyra,” he greets cordially.

“I haven't seen you since the incident with ________,” she says. “Are you alright?”

Neteyam nods.

“Never better,” he says simply.

“After dinner we should–”

He spots you, satchel thrown over your shoulder. You glance his way momentarily, but scurry in the direction of your tent when you lock eyes with him.

“If you will excuse me, please,” he says politely, extricating himself from Te’feyra to follow after you.

He catches up to you right outside of your tent.

“________!” he calls.

You freeze almost imperceptibly, but continue on your way, climbing the flattened incline spiraling around the center of the hometree.

“________,” he murmurs, fist closing around your skinny bicep.

You jolt to a stop, golden eyes razor sharp as you glance down at him. Your fist is wrapped tight around the strap of the satchel, knuckles stretched taut.

“Neteyam,” you reply softly. “Yes?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but finds that his tongue weighs heavy behind his lips.

“If you seek help, there are elders available for healing,” you inform him, making a move to remove your arm from his grasp.

He instinctively tightens his grasp and you shift uncomfortably.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quietly, pulling away. “I just want to speak with you.”

A few beats pass as you blink at him.

“Well?”

“Oh,” he swallows. “Can I come in?”

You turn to face the flap of your tent before craning your long neck over your shoulder to nod.

“Sure,” you agree, holding the hide open to let him in.

You step in after him, table scattered with mixtures of finely-pounded dust, scrolls of research and bundles of materials.

You set your satchel down and begin unloading your finds from you excursion.

Meanwhile, Neteyam paces nervously, trailing the circumference of your tent, eyes flitting every which way to take in every piece of you.

A thick silence envelops you and you clear your throat when the satchel is empty.

“You wanted to talk?” you ask, watching as he stops in front of a scrolled tacked to one of the beams.

It's the pressed flower he'd given to you all that time ago as children. It's central in the room, catching the sun so beautifully and Neteyam uses this as the last bit of courage he needs to continue.

“You kept it,” he says, voice shaky.

“Of course,” you say simply, picking through your different finds. “You gave it to me.”

Neteyam turns, looks you head on and he feels his resolve crumbling.

“You like me,” he says bluntly, afraid that if he beats around the bush, he'll cop out.

“Everyone does,” you deflect.

Neteyam's jaw locks.

“No, ________, you like me,” he repeats.

You feel small, sorting the petals by color, fingers nimble against the soft grain of the wooden tabletop.

“Presumptuous,” you hum, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“________,” he presses.

You bite your lip, tears clouding your vision as your fingers begin to trembling through the sorting. He's being so unfair and he doesn't even know it.

“Why?” you ask shakily.

“What do you mean why?” Neteyam counters, voice taking on the same edge he did with his brother days prior and he'd interrogated him about you.

“Why are you doing this?” you croak, and he hears the tears in your voice.

He's across the floor before you can blink.

“Are you crying?” he asks, shocked.

“Why do you want me to say it so badly?” you choke, poor petals strangled in your vibrating fist. “Is it not enough? To know that I yearn for you silently? That everyone pities me because my heart belongs to someone who's already spoken for?”

Neteyam is stunned.

“I like you, Neteyam. I always have,” you say, voice raw with emotion. “It's my biggest defeat to say I always will. Is that what you want to hear?”

Your eyes are tinged red and his throat feels stuffed with cotton.

“I've always admired you,” you say quietly, between hiccuping breaths. “But I didn’t know you could be so cruel.”

Neteyam winces, every word he’d practiced earlier, completely obliterated from his short term. He knows he should just tell you, tell you that his heart yearns for yours, too. That he'd been too blinded by his impending duty to feel the full effects of what a first love could be like.

“You should go,” you say when he's silent.

You brush your tears away and pat your cheeks dry with the back of your hands as you carefully set the wilted flowers the the edge of the table.

“I–”

“Neteyam, spare me, please.”

“I don’t want to,” he finally says.

Your eyebrows furrow, eyes swollen as you gaze at him unjaded. Who he believed to be so stoic and passive now baring every possible inch to him.

“You're–”

“I don't want to be with Te'feyra,” he finally spits, fists clenched. “I won't be with her.”

Your gaze softens, lips parting to ask what's gotten into him, but he cuts you off.

“You,” he answers firmly, before the question clings in the air. “It’s you. I want to be with you.”

"Stop," you whisper, shaking your head furiously. You take a step away from where he's quickly closing in on you. “Don't–”

He pauses mid-stride and the expression on his handsome face is absolutely devastating. His chest rises and falls shakily and you take a moment to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice it before,” he says desperately, “I was scared and didn't fully realize it, but I do now.”

“That’s unfair,” you hiccup. “This isn't just on your terms. You can’t— you can’t just tell me you like me and expect me to be with you.”

These passing moments are the most he’s ever heard you speak, and he’s afraid that he's severely underestimated you. It doesn’t taste so sweet now that he’s faced with the reality of things.

“You will be the future leader of this clan,” you continue. “That is a great responsibility that you've prepared for your entire life. Who you decide to be with is a permanent fixture that cannot be undone.”

“I know, I know,” he assures you.

“You find it in your heart pity me, Neteyam,” you breathe quietly. “But do you really want to be bonded to someone passive and weak?”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you've squared your shoulders, stomach caving and expanding with a deep breath. You turn to your prior task.

“You should go,” you repeat. “Duty calls.”

“What do you mean you need help?” Kiri asks incredulously, eyes widened at her older brother.

“________,” Neteyam says. “She's icing me out.”

Kiri's face melts in relief and she scoffs a laugh.

“Do you blame her?”

“Kiri!” he pleads.

Kiri stops her movements, falling back on her haunches to meet Neteyam's desperate gaze. It's so unlike him, being uncertain, nervous. He's picked up the habit of fiddling his fingers and Kiri snorts to herself.

“Actions,” she says simply.

“Huh?” he vocalizes.

“Words mean nothing to ________ if your actions don't support them,” she says. “This entire time you've acted so lukewarm towards her. Of course she won't believe you when you decide to acknowledge that you love her.”

Neteyam's throat bobs as he stares down at his sister.

“And how will I do that?” he presses.

Kiri shrugs.

“Not so mighty warrior now, are we?”

As the days progress, you begin to grasp at finally coming to terms with the tattered remains of what's left of you and Neteyam's frayed relationship. Your heart hasn't stonewalled him completely, but the yearning for him has dulled to a slight ache.

His eyes are piercing every moment you share the same vicinity. Kiri would even try to argue you that it's longing, but Neteyam's a slave to his honor and you aren't convinced.

“You should pity the poor boy,” an elder tells you as you cut up ingredients for the evening's dinner.

You pause, fingers tightening around the handle of the knife. You roll your lips together before briefly meeting her gaze, warm under firelight.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, clearing your throat.

She laughs, peeling a purple fruit.

“Neteyam,” she says forwardly. “Hasn’t taken his eyes off you in who knows how long. Will you continue to let him suffer?”

You want to argue that it's you who's suffering. That the heart that beats inside the hollow of your ribcage feels like it'll tear in two every time you recall the venom in Neteyam's voice when he'd called you weak.

“I doubt his suffering has anything to do with me,” you say instead. “We are only acquaintances.”

The elder laughs again.

“Is that why he's been pestering the elders for input on how to sway your heart?”

Your head shoots up from where you've focused on the fine cuts of vegetables.

“What?”

“He’s been slacking on his duties, instead poking around the elders and villagers trying to pry information about you,” she says. “Heard him muttering about what kind of flowers you like.”

“It will take more than flowers to sway my heart,” you mumble.

“So you admit that there's something there, hmm?”

Your cheeks heat, caught like a fish in warm waters.

“I–”

“I'd argue that Neteyam’s liked you longer than you've liked him,” the elder says simply.

You bite.

“Why do you say that?”

“He's always asked Eywa for courage, and it seems like she gave you as an answer.”

The elder climbs to her feet, leaving you near the open flame. You open your mouth to call out to her, but the scent of salt and leaves envelops you before you can say anything.

You crane your neck and find Neteyam a few paces from you.

“Do you have a few moments?” he asks politely.

You want to say no, tell him that you'd offered him an infinite amount of moments that he'd spent building bridges between the two of you, but if he's a slave to his honor, you're bound by heart.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, abandoning your task.

He holds his hand out for you to take and your fingers slide across his warm palm as he pulls you to your feet. Once he secures your hold in his, he tugs you along.

You don't know where he's taking you, or what he could possibly want with your time, but you feel a thousand times more nervous than ever now that the tangled web of your feelings drapes the both of you.

After a few moments of rugged silence, climbing through bushes and brush, he punctures the quiet.

“Are you well?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer after a moment. “You?”

“Truthfully?” he responds, pausing to face you. You realize his hand still engulfs yours. “No.”

“No?” you parrot shakily.

“No,” he affirms. “I've been hurting actually.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“You should seek help if you have an ongoing–”

“Here,” he says, the hand still caught in his being guided to lay flat against his chest. You can feel his heart hammering behind his ribcage. “It hurts here.”

You swallow, pulling away from his grasp when you realize his insinuation.

“Don’t,” you warn.

He breathes a shaky sigh before taking a step towards you. He's corded muscle and warmth as his palm comes to cradle your jaw. Your bottom lip twitches as you stare up at him.

“It’s always been you,” he says quietly, thumb brushing your chin as his eyes map every curve of your face. “I think I’ve always known it deep down, but...”

Your hand comes up to meet his, gently prying his touch away.

“Neteyam,” you sigh. “Had the last few days unfolded differently, I don't think you'd been saying this now.”

“Maybe not now,” he agrees. “But one day, I would. I know I would. Because when I recall every fond moment, you’re there. No matter how close to the background you get, you’re always there.”

You look skeptical, and Neteyam knows he's losing you. So he digs in the small knapsack he has slung over his broad shoulders and pulls out something thin.

When he holds it up with shaky fingers, your breath catches in your throat. Strung through the taut brown of tree vine is a line of beads identical to the one that he wears on a braid tucked behind his ear. Upon closer inspection, you notice the blue and purple beads formed to create your favorite flowers.

“Wha—”

“Until you decide you want to be mine,” he says, voice trembling nervously as he takes your arm and gently slides the band up until it fits snuggly around your bicep. “So that you remember I'm always yours.”

Your voice is caught in your throat as he brings your fingers up to his lips.

“I won’t push you,” he says when he realizes your words have evaded you. “But I’ll wait for you.”

“Neteyam–”

He simply smiles at you, golden eyes shy as he takes a step back to admire his handiwork. He seems satisfied, triumphant, when you eye the band but make no moves to remove it.

“I’ll wait for you,” he repeats, giving your fingers a squeeze before running off.

“He did what?” Lo’ak shrills a week later.

The younger three Sully's had hunted you down and brought you to the clearing dedicated to archery training.

Slender fingers wrap around your wrist and elbow to turn your arm to examine the band with wide eyes.

You can’t help but smile gently to yourself, watching the way the sun catches the reflection of the pearlescent beads and reflects them brightly.

“I knew that dummy was planning something,” Kiri grumbles. You bite your lip when she meets your gaze. “Well?”

“Well what?” you ask, arm still in Lo’ak’s grasp.

He twists playfully and your laugh glitters in the air.

"Are you going to put my knucklehead brother out of his misery or what?" Kiri hisses, arm drawing to shoot a arrow that stabs the target about a centimeter too left.

Tuk giggles as she runs up to the target to examine the damage.

“Yeah, please do, he's in love and it's disgusting,” Lo'ak grumbles, still eyeing the cuff.

Your heart skips at the mention of love, cheeks going warm when both Kiri and Lo'ak notice how you've gone quiet. They begin laughing, dealing you playful punches.

“Stop that,” you scold, swatting their hands away. “I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

“Oh, get real!” Kiri huffs. “You are so in love, you know you'll say yes.”

“Please put me out of my misery,” Lo'ak moans. “I'm tired of being his therapist because he's a little bitch.”

“Lo'ak,” you warn, eyes narrowing.

He giggles and Kiri stifles a laugh as you flounder, cheeks blooming under the siblings' teasing.

“You are both so awful,” you say petulantly, arms crossing one over the other. “How are you so sure I’ll return his feelings?”

It's Kiri's turn to groan, eyes rolling.

“Sure enough that I know if I let you in on a little secret, it'll light a fire under your ass,” she says seriously.

Your spine goes rigid, arms loosening as you wait with bated breath.

“Neteyam may choose you, but if you don’t choose him back quickly enough, someone could swoop in and claw that chance from you,” she shrugs.

Te'feyra's name is an ugly insinuation and something green coils its way into the pit of your stomach as you recall the chaste kiss she'd pressed to Neteyam's lips all those nights ago in the forest.

“Gears turning?” Lo'ak lilts.

They definitely are and suddenly you feel small, digging your big toe into the dirt to drag lines through the forest floor. You nod hesitantly, band suddenly tight around your bicep.

In your ruminating, Lo'ak and Kiri pass a knowing glance.

“Well?” Lo'ak prods.

You fidget, rattling with nerves.

“I suppose...”

Lo'ak sighs and his hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the clearing.

“Where are we going?” you squeak.

“To put everyone out of their misery,” Lo'ak huffs.

The forest seems way more alive than usual, glowing so bright it almost overpowers the sun. Woodsprites gather around as Lo'ak nudges you through the thick foliage and you can't help but think about the sweet smile that curled on Neteyam's lips as he assured you that he was yours. All yours.

The fire crackles in the distance and you know that the morning meal is in the works when voices roar quietly meters away.

Neteyam sits near the center, surrounded by elders and the dreaded girl.

Te'feyra's obliterated every single centimeter of space available, nearly melded to his side as the elders talk animatedly over the two.

You want to turn back, uncertainty vice-like, but Lo'ak squeezes your shoulders as a silent plea. Not even a moment passes before Neteyam peels himself away and begins putting distance between them.

When Te'feyra gives him a curious glance, he gives her an uneasy smile.

“Be courageous, ________,” Lo'ak encourages. “You're one of the strongest people I know.”

With a final pat on the back, he pushes you towards the circle and the sudden movement catches everyone's gaze.

“________,” one of the elders calls fondly.

You smile and bow your head, fingers twitching at your sides.

“Hello,” you greet quietly, eyes swooping hesitantly to Neteyam who rises to his feet, already watching you intently.

That's when you notice it, the choker fastened around his throat. The vine is identical to yours, but it's strung with a line of beads that mirror the ones woven into a singular braid at the nape of your neck.

You hadn't realized that he'd noticed it all this time, but it's the ultimate confirmation that Neteyam sees you. And when he notices that you notice, he smiles softly.

The elders notice as well, drawing the link between your arm band and the necklace that Neteyam wears, now that you two stand opposite each other.

“May I borrow Neteyam for a moment?” you ask politely.

The same elder you prepared with the evening prior gleams a wide smile when Neteyam takes a step towards you, fingers brushing delicately with yours.

Te'feyra remains seated, lips twitching as her gaze flits between the two of you.

“By all means,” one of them says. “Take your time.”

You bow your head again, heart thudding when Neteyam's fingers twine with yours and he lets you drag him out of the circle and deeper into the forest.

When you deem that no prying eyes or ears surround you, you stop, Neteyam bumping softly into your back. The hair on the back of your neck bristle when he makes no moves to extricate himself from you, simply moving your braids from your face to reveal the string of beads tucked near the nape of your neck.

“You needed me?” he whispers, fingers still ghosting the skin of shoulder.

You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut as you relish the moment. Your fingers are still locked and for a fleeting second, you pretend that it's always been like this, the two of you.

“I am nothing extraordinary,” you start, and Neteyam's fingertips pause at your elbow.

“I'd argue differently,” he responds.

“I value time alone and I get overwhelmed often,” you continue.

“We all have our moments,” is his rebuttal as the hand covering yours squeezes gently.

You sigh.

“I could—”

Neteyam turns you and you're met with the the choker, beads glinting under the light. Your eyes drag up the column of his strong neck, flit past his soft lips and finally lock with his searing gaze.

“You can try all you want to run me off,” Neteyam laughs quietly, cupping your jaw. “But I'm not scared anymore.”

Your expression is skeptical and Neteyam decides to bite the bullet. He's closing in on you and your heart pounds violently in your chest.

“Neteyam,” you whisper weakly, hand coming up to his chest.

He traps your fingers against his heart, lips slotting between yours before you can protest some more.

It's like the forest comes alive around you, grass tickling between your toes as you melt under his touch and lean up into his mouth.

His hands are everywhere at once, branding your cerulean skin as he kisses you like it's your last moments. There's no hesitation, no feeling it out, just his warm breath and his soft lips as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“I'll take you as you are at any moment,” he says breathlessly between kisses. “You just have to say you want me back, ________. Please.”

You nod, nose brushing against his as one of his palms splay at the small of your back and the other grabs your chin, pulling you back to plant another burning kiss on your lips.

“Say it,” he begs.

Your eyes begin to mist as you nod again eagerly, parting for a moment to whisper the words.

“I'm yours,” you hoarse, hands on either side of his neck. “I'm yours if you'll be with me.”

Neteyam simply kisses you again, a satisfied hum rumbling from his built chest.

“Fucking finally,” a whisper sounds from the brush.

A LIL' BONUS

“You think they would have figured it out on their own?” Lo'ak asks, wolfing down his food.

Kiri shrugs, feeding Tuk a piece of fruit from her wooden plate.

“Maybe,” she says, unable to suppress her proud grin. “Maybe not. They're both stupid."

“I think so,” Te'feyra laughs watching you and Neteyam fondly from across the fire. “They were a long time coming.”

an – thank you SO much if you've made it this far! again, leave a request or let's chat hehehe. up next is lo'ak so stay tuned! :)

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