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nanamiskentos · 7 months ago

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BED CHEM— geto suguru minors dni. art by to00fu !

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (b) and let the show begin !

prologue. → ditching your friend's christmas condo party for your scrumptious, needy boyfriend? yes please!

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. geto suguru x afab!reader

warnings+. awful usage of brainrot slang to weird geto out (mission successful), making out, messy sèx, crèampiè, nothing crazy !

word count. 5k! song inspiration. bed chem — sabrina carpenter

a/n. happy 1 month birthday to this blog!!!!!! 😭 kind of fitting that i celebrate with a geto fic <3

mp3. where art thou? why not uponeth me? see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy !

"hey," you say, holding up the dress and crinkling the red satin in your fingers, "what'd you think of this one?"

it's a gorgeous number, a sheer, corset bodice with a daring thigh-high slit, all set to softly drape off your shoulders. the kind of dress that screams 'sexy without trying too hard' and 'television heroine vampire heiress'. your goal in life.

geto doesn't even glance up from his latest obsession, crouched by the kitchen counter. he's eye level with a pavlova, drizzling raspberry glaze over it like he's performing surgery. without missing a beat, "it's cool. for someone desparate in witness protection," he deadpans.

you scoff, clutching the gown like the aforementioned television heroine, "you just say weird shit sometimes. what does that even mean? and a day one hater, didn't even look up..."

"and yet," geto mutters, still hyper-focused on his dessert, "i know i'm right."

you throw the dress onto the couch dramatically, "suguru, you bought this dress for me."

that gets your boyfriend's attention and he looks up, catching the gleam of familiar red satin, and visibly gulps, "oh. my bad. it's, uh, hot you'd look hot, i mean."

"nice save, baby," you arch a brow.

he tosses his inky black hair back, some of it falling right back into his face, "what's it for?"

you sigh, propping your legs up on the worn couch, "that big party, remember? my friend who got married and had a kid last year, y'know her right?"

geto hums, popping a fresh blueberry into his mouth, without taking his eyes off the pavlova, "mmph," he says through a mouthful, "the one who married the guy who cheated on her like thrice?"

you grin, delighted he remembers the gossip you've spoon fed to him over time, "yeah, well, apparently he tried making it up to her by buying her an entire condo."

geto wrinkles his nose in disgust, "tacky. ya' just can't buy class."

"totally," you sigh, "but it's so nice in there. and when she hosts parties there, i can't really complain. it's like, so gorgeous."

then, you glance back at your focused boyfriend, watching as he artfully arranges more berries atop the meringue, "mhm, speaking of gorgeous, are you gonna stand there making love to the pavlova all night, or are you gonna help me accessorise this thing?"

geto glances at you, his violet eyes narrowing playfully, "why so needy? jealous of whipped egg whites and sugar?"

you flop your arms to your sides with a dramatic sigh, "what if i am?"

geto exhales as though you are his most tiresome, and favourite thing in the entire world. grabbing a silver spoon from the cutlery rack, and dipping it into the sticky-sweet raspberry glaze. he's striding towards you, and there's that signature air of both exasperation and amusement, "open."

you comply, simply because dessert trumps dignity, and not before biting down on the spoon with unnecessary force just to mess with him. the glaze simply melts on your tongue, and you smack your lips, "mmm. wait, this shit's really good. what's it for?"

geto laughs, stepping closer to swipe his warm thumb across your bottom lip to catch a stray bit of glaze, "for us, jus' us. thought we'd have something sweet for christmas."

you clutch your chest like a damsel, "i thought i was your sweet thing for christmas."

your dear boyfriend rolls his eyes, swatting your arm lightly with the sticky spoon, leaving a smear of glaze, "tch, what am i gonna do with you?"

you gasp in mock outrage at the sensation, but geto's expression shifts, softening as he swings a knee up onto the arm of the couch, "wan' me to come with ya?"

you blink, thrown off from his hauntingly beautiful features that you'll never get tired of, "come with me where?"

"that party, love."

your jaw practically hits the floor, "wait, really? you actually want to? thought you hated these things?"

geto's lips quirk upwards, shrugging a shoulder, "the things i do for my pretty girlfriend."

cue the squeal. exaggerated just enough to irritate him, just a bit. you clutch his arm, bouncing slightly, "aw! you really do love me!"

geto's exasperated look cracks, softening into something far more quiet and fond. he places a hand on your head, ruffling through your hair just enough to make you scowl at the mess, "don't push your luck," he warns. but his tone betrays his amusement, "i just feel bad i haven't gone to any of the others with you."

"i'm glad you said that, though, suguru," you start, already scheming as you lean forward and rest your head on his knee like its the most natural pillow in the world. he lets out a soft puff of breath, almost instinctively leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

"remember those high-waisted pants i said would look really good on you?"

geto frowns, "the ones you said made me look like a...and i quote, a slutty mushroom?"

"bingo. you should wear them. the world deserves to see your delicious gyatt —"

your baiting words are accentuated by a pinch to the back of his dark sweatpants but cut off by his sharp exhale, and the way his fingers, which had been lazily tracing the curve of your ear, freeze mid-motion.

"my what, love?" geto asks, his tone a mix of suspicious and the kind of dread reserved for people who know they're about to regret asking a question.

"gyatt," you repeat, completely unrepentant, no shame nor misery, "it means —"

"i know what it means," geto cuts in, deadpan with a faint and tell-tale blush creeping onto his tan skin, "i'm cutting off our wifi. all our electricity actually."

you laugh, patting his muscular thigh lightly before squeezing it again for good measure, "oh, so you do know what it means. that's embarrassing for you, babe."

"and yet, somehow, i still have the moral high ground," geto grouches, pinching the bridge of his nose, "and you say that i say weird shit. now you're bringing gojo's tiktok fuckery into my own home."

"first of all, it's our home," grabbing the red dress and standing, almost knocking him off the couch's arm, "second of all, my big and tall and beautiful boyfriend is such a cutie patootie when he's embarrassed."

geto groans, tilting his head back, "stop. you're emasculating me."

you pause in the doorway, "you cry everytime we watch strawberry shortcake. you do that shit to yourself."

"that was one time!" geto protests, but you can hear the smile colouring his voice.

"two times."

"the mermaid episode was emotionally poignant. power of friendship and moral honesty despite the promise of treasure," he calls after you, "you wouldn't get the timeless themes!"

well, mission accomplished. the dress fits you like a second skin, hugging all the right places. and you're not even ashamed of how long you spend admiring yourself in the mirror. the way the corset lifts your chest, well, it's definitely giving hot and sexy vampire now.

you delicately pat a glitter bomb compact over your skin, letting the soft shimmer catch the light on your collarbones and shoulders. it's a fine balance, you think, but you know there's a fine line between 'faintly glittered-up' and looking like 'fenty beauty just projectile-vomited rosé rave' all over you.

"suguru!" you call out, expecting a snarky reply but hearing nothing. typical. "suguru!" you yell again, just because you can. you wander out of the bedroom, only to find him already in position: stretched across the couch, legs draped lazily over the armrest.

and fuck, he looks good. wearing those wide-legged pants you suggested, and obviously, you were right about them. a crisp white top with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off his forearms. geto's hair is pulled back into that high, slightly messy knot he's so fond of, but a rogue and choppy strand has escaped, brushing against his cheek.

the whole look screams 'effortlessly hot' and you can imagine how smug he'd be if he knew what you were thinking.

"oh. hey, love," he greets casually, scrolling through his phone and still draped over the couch like a catalog model who knows all his angles. but then geto looks up, and the phone nearly slips out of his hand.

"uhhh, hey," he says, his eyes widening as he takes you in, and his rosewood lips part, as he says it again, clearly dumbfounded, "hey."

you laugh, crouching down next to him, amused by the way he's visibly short-circuiting, "not bad yourself," you tease, "what were you looking at?"

before he can stop you, you lean in to peak at geto's phone, pressing yourself against his side. glitter from your collarbones transfers onto his skin, but you're too busy laughing at his dimly lit screen to notice.

"suguru!" you gasp, your shoulders beginning to tremor, "fuckass yahoo answers, of all places. wait — i can't believe people still use that. stop moving your phone, let me read!"

is it good or bad if my girlfriend says i have a gyatt?

geto's ears turn deliciously red, and he locks his phone with an exaggerated click, "okay. nosy mcgee," and he's grumbling, "makin' me sound like a loser."

you pat his cheek lightly, grinning like a cheshire cat, "it means i think you're scrumptious," you say with mock seriousness, "like top-tier snackish. like, as in, i like your ass."

geto huffs, his lips twitching despite himself. and then, leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. you wrinkle it instinctively, thinking of all the concealer and powder you had layered earlier.

"well," he says, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, "i think you're pretty too."

you sigh dramatically, "just pretty? why did i end up with a nonchalant man?"

geto gasps, his mauve eyes widening in mock offence as he juts his lip forward, "hah, 'scuse me. i'm not nonchalant. i'm like the total opposite of nonchalant. i'm like...chalant."

you snort, catching his stray fingers as they linger close enough to your lips for you to playfully nip at them, "yes. you are. my very chalant boyfriend. what a hero."

geto rolls over to his side, so he's facing you. absolutely wrinkling his white shirt, "thank you for recognising my efforts."

but then his tone shifts, his gaze running over you, "but seriously, you look hot. like crazy hot. like wow, my girlfriend is insanely hot," and he leans in slightly, "and i jus' can't stop looking at your two, beautiful, perfect..."

it hits you that his gaze has dropped to the swell of your chest.

"suguru! my eyes are up here, you dog."

"shit, been caught." and he's still laughing at your grumbles, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you up in one swift motion, dragging you alongside him towards the bedroom.

"hey!" you protest half-heartedly, trying to dig your heels into the carpet, "the front door's the other way, genius. we're gon' be late."

geto doesn't stop his stride, glancing back at you with a pleading look that's also smug at the same time, "yeah, but you're the one who looks like that. don't think i can function. i need a minute."

"geto suguru, everybody. one-minute wonder. all he needs to finish."

you hear your boyfriend's scoff, as a teasing laugh escapes him, "hah, can't help being like this, can ya? got a gold medal when it comes to pissing me off."

you smile sweetly, "it's because i love you."

geto rolls his rich-plum eyes, his hand guiding you towards the bed as he shakes his head, "you know i love you too, right?"

"duh."

"good," geto says, and with that, he's leaning in. pressing a hot kiss to your jaw, then moving to your waiting mouth. it's messy, sloppy, the kind that makes your pussy clench a bit. sue you, eh? it's just the effect that geto suguru has on you.

you let out a soft whine as his tongue smears across your satin-finished, ruby lips, perfectly lined not ten minutes ago. but then geto's pulling away, circling his finger lazily in the air. a wordless demand that leaves your thighs clenching in anticipation.

you playfully huff, but spin yourself away from him. planting yourself on all fours, hearing geto grunt as he seems to appreciate the view. tsk, your predictable, eager boyfriend.

his large hand is running slowly down your spine, like he's savouring the way the satin clings to you. it's sending shivers down your body, and you're certain that if geto were to push your dress up and cup your core with a large hand, he'd pull it away wet and dripping.

"ah, pretty. so pretty, aren'tcha?" and his fingers are tugging taut at the ruched dress, like he can't quite believe you're real and his. despite three smooth years of professing your love to one another.

"suguru," you protest, "y'know 's not a cheap dress, babe."

you can hear the amusement tinging his smooth voice, "i know. i bought it, remember? don't want you worryin' your pretty lil' head over it."

you let out a soft sigh as you feel him entirely lean his weight over you, enveloping you in that heady scent of leather and cardamom. scooting your ass back, so tight satin would faintly drag across his very pronounced erection.

"f-fuck," and geto's laugh is sharp, disbelieving. half a huff, and half a chuckle, but entirely in awe. broad, warm hands are gliding over you before the gentle press of his palms come to rest on your hips. he's sliding your dress up, letting satin rustle with a soft, whispering sound. leaving your skin exposed to the sudden and sharp kiss of the christmas air.

"wow," geto whistles quietly, appreciatively. he seemed to be enjoying the sheer red thigh-high tights that clung to the plush of your thighs like a second scarlet skin, and you gasp as he hooks a long finger underneath the lace border, snapping it once briefly in a mild sting.

his hands are so close to where you need them most, and it's so utterly infuriating. he's practically dancing his finger tips over your inner thighs, ghosting so close to your underwear. panties that were surely languid, weighty by now. you could feel the damp cotton growing far more slippery and tacky as geto suddenly ran a finger over your clothed cunt.

and you can hear the elation in his voice as he lifts a finger up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around your syrupy taste, "hah, you're practically a super-soaker. that's pretty cool."

you scowl, fighting the urge to swivel around and pounce him in retribution, "y-yeah, thanks," but the bite in your words is tempered by the lazy heat that coils in your stomach, "but you're taking too l-long, baby. can't you jus' -"

and you're deciding to take matters into your own hands, as geto seems fascinated by how thin, clear strands create small bridges between his fingers. you reach for the waistband of his high-waisted pants, running your own hand down his absurdly slender waist, right over a godly chiselled torso.

"y'got impatient, didn't you, love?" and now geto's scowling, hauling your wrist back to pin it behind your back like you foretold. but not before planting a soft press of lips to your inner arm, gentle and tender.

but you flex your fingers behind your back, stretching them out, groping at the air. your boyfriend must have noticed, almost immediately because of course he does, and you can hear a soft, knowing coo from behind you.

"ah, 's what you want, right?" he teases, sliding his cool, slender fingers over yours, intertwining them effortlessly, "just wanted me holdin' your hand, how cute."

"maybe i was j-just stretching," you huff, but squeezing his hand tighter.

geto hums, unconvinced, as his thumb brushes lazily over the back of your hand, and you can hear the sound of fabric rustling behind you, "sure. totally not begging me to hold your hand like some lovesick, little dove."

but any retort falls away from your tongue, right when you feel something heavy, and hot smack against your tailbone, leaving a faint, moist kiss that feels cold when it patters off, "now pay attention."

you muffle a small, desparate whine, as geto has one hand tangled with yours and the other being used to hold and smack his thick cock once more over the base of your spine, "hope s-she's ready f' me now."

you feel as though all the air has been utterly pushed out of you, just from geto practically splitting you in two. you don't even have to look at geto to know that he's absolutely wrecked already, just from the throbbing, curved tip of his cock pushing past your tight walls, snagging with only the mildest resistance.

you can almost see it in your mind's eye, picturing it all just from his low curses and gasp.

how his chin must have tucked low enough to kiss his sternum, feathery strands of hair spilling over his forehead. those inky lashes fluttering in disbelief and surrender over hazy mauve eyes.

"s-she's always so eager to take me," geto croons, and his eyes are practically glued to the way your puffy folds bulge and drool over his shaft slowly feeding inches into you, "almost there, love."

"look at, hah, t-that," your boyfriend drawls, but you can hear how entirely undone he is, that tremour cutting off the end of his words in a sharp gasp as you arch yourself into him, letting that stretch take you so deliciously.

"keep your back arched like that, love," geto murmurs, and his hands are guiding you, pulling your hips back in a gentle, rhythmic push-and-pull over his cock. leaving you to feel his girthy shaft rummage and jostle around your insides, leaving a hefty divot at the edge of your cervix in a way that has you suddenly keening out a faint moan, "doing s-so well for me."

and fuck, the sound of his groin smacking wet kisses against your ass has you feeling like your head was going to explode, and your heart was going to give out, pressing right up into your throats. but you can tell geto is pleased, ruined even as he slowly drags his cock out of you at a filthy, slow pace.

if only to make you feel every throbbing vein on him, and how it imprints on your gummy walls.

there's something just so right about him being in you like this, having his pretty love bent over and absolutely stuffed full of his cock, something that just makes sense.

and right now, nothing else in the world matters save for you, and geto can't bring himself to even care about deadlines, or a decent and sensible christmas dinner, or some stupid party. not when he's letting his weighty, drooling tip loll out of your folds.

thick and heavy like a heated rod in the cool air of the evening, as he pushes two long fingers to spread open your syrupy folds, running the angry-red tip over your gloss, before finally pushing himself back inside.

"i w-was gonna say it was this dress, love," geto stammers, swirling his hips around, trying to rustle right into you, "but i think it's just you. ya know w-what you do to me right, hah, don'tcha, pretty?"

oh you are more than aware. and that heightened sense of perception is only exacerbated by how the thick curve of his cock is bruising into you. slamming into you with a heavy smack!

geto's world tilts, leaving him teetering on the edge of an embarrassingly early orgasm. but he feels little shame, not when his head is so heavy and his lips sting, caught under the desparate press of his teeth. every shallow breath he takes feeling like it's just unravelling him further, circling the tips of his fingers over your clit, just so you can whine and arch yourself into him more.

geto decides to play that card more, wrapping a thick arm around you to pull you into the air slightly. that faint increase in angle making you buckle as his weeping tip pulls symphonies of thick, angry squelches from your sensitive cunt. each jostle of his sharp, staccato hips feeling more and more shaky.

"not too much, r-right?" geto's breath hitching in uneven bursts, caught somewhere between delirious laughter and incredulous, overstimulated sobs.

that sweet, and unsteady wheeze results in tears pricking at geto's eyes from the delicious heat of your pussy, falling over the feverish nape of your neck, "know you wanted to go o-out, wanted to wear this pretty dress but i think 'm gonna d-die if i stop now, 's okay with you, yeah?"

"not t-too much, suguru," you hiss, feeling crystalline tears pool in your own lashes, just from pure please, "f-fuck, 'm already so close."

and you truly are, he's drilling himself into you at a beastly place, jostling a large hand over your chest, brushing over the lace lining the corset bodice, as if he's desparate to get his hands into your dress, to brush his thumbs over sensitive nipples.

his cock leaving searing trails of precum against your drooling, fluttering walls, leaving behind a wet trail that almost burned you. the force of his crashing hips leaving stamps in their wake, and geto's gasping and groaning at the faint cling of your dewy pussy, snatching him in quick, forceful bursts.

you shuffle precariously, still jostled against him, as you push down the bodice of your dress. probably damaging the framework a bit, but it's so worth it to hear geto almost sigh in relief, letting his hands run over the fat of your tits. pinching, swirling his fingers over the soft skin.

geto thinks he might just collapse over you in a weak heap when he hears your whine, "wan' more, s-suguru."

yes, more. that's exactly what geto wants to give you. he wants to see you milk him dry from the heavy balls swinging against your skin, wants to see you heave breaths of air as his seed drips out of you. wants to have you pressed against him for hours on end, to flip you over so your ankle lock behind his neck.

his imagination must have been working overtime. for like the peak specimen of male virility that he is, geto suguru just ends up cumming instead.

and with an embarrassing, heady grunt from him, geto's pulling his pulsating cock out of your folds, doing his best to keep himself steady enough to use his other hand well.

to keep running his fingers in tight circles around your clit, while he lets his spurting cock pump load after load of translucent, white fluid paint your spine a pretty pearly sheen. coming right on you.

it's so messy, it's so filthy and geto feels mildly numb as he decides to push his still throbbing cock, one that is still spurting right back into you, as he pushes his weight onto you, taking care not to force you too harshly against the crumpled sheets.

and geto just can't help himself, can't stop himself from leaving sloppy, wet kisses to the back of your neck, to your cheek. can't help himself from tilting your face back so his mouth can meet yours, and he can taste that raspberry syrup from earlier on your tongue, sweet and tangy.

and geto doesn't even care that he sounds ruined, raw and brittle. absolutely tattered as he whines, "we d-don't have to go to that party, right? hnngh, jus' need to hear you say that we don't have to, i think 'm gonna need some more of her. milking me so w-well."

he doesn't hear much apart from your gasps, your short cries like a mantra of "ah, ah! suguru!"

you weren't even sure how much time had passed, an hour even. or more. and you vaguely wondered if your friends were still there. sitting at some christmas party in some luxury condo, whispering over flutes of champagne, wondering about where you were. unaware that your adonis-esque boyfriend had been pounding himself into you, stretching you out over his cock until you were seeing heavenly stars.

until you were feeling thick ropes of white paint your insides once more, and streaks of dark dimmed your vision, and mauve and violet flashed behind your eyes.

you're tugging at the hem of your dress, still laughing fondly as you watch geto. his tousled, choppy hair falling out of its knot, and his eyes half-lidded and blissed out. his crumpled white top clings to his lean frame, and he's propped up lazily against the headboard with his other thick arm slung back behind his head.

"give me another hour, and we can do it again, love," geto huffs, his voice still a little raspy from earlier.

you shake your head in amusement, despite the mildly uncomfortable feeling of slick sticking beneath your thighs, splattered over your beautiful dress, "mhm, what a nice way to spend christmas, huh?"

geto stares at you adoringly, and his eyes are heavy with contentment, like he can't quite believe that you're here, and for a second, you think maybe the world would stop right there, in this perfect moment.

he runs a thumb over your face, pressing down on your lower lip, "i think it's better than some party," and geto's tone is dreamy, lazy, "no offence to your friend."

you snicker, thinking about whether you're going to need some well-thought excuse for your dear friend. or whether you're going to spill the whole truth for her.

but just as you're about to pull geto's plush mouth into another lazy kiss, his brow furrows. a sudden, concerned shift in his expression.

"hey," your boyfriend mutters, reaching to find his phone, "what's the humidity like tonight?"

you blink, caught off guard, "humidity? what's it matter?"

well, your skin feels unusually sticky, like the air itself is clinging to your sweat-dampened skin. despite the cool air of the december night. and there's that sweet, pleasant tiredness settling into your bones.

geto's suddenly sitting up, his eyes wide with realisation, "wait, love. fuck," he's muttering, scrambling up to his feet, "the kitchen!"

before you can process what's happening, he's racing for the door, and you stare at the empty spot on the rumpled sheets where your broad boyfriend was sitting not ten seconds ago.

"what is wrong with that man?" you murmur, but you hear a panicked cry from the kitchen, something about that damned pavlova going limp and soft with the heating on.

you bite back a small comment about something else going limp and soft, deciding to save that one for later when he's back in bed.

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leth-writes · 8 months ago

Text

bait

SUMMARY: Damian would like to welcome you to the family.

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans.

MASTERLIST: https://www.tumblr.com/leth-writes/757800060720496640/requests-open?source=share

Requests are open!

Normally, Damian would hate being babied. He was a trained assassin, the blood of Ra’as Al Ghoul ran through his veins, he was the son of the feared Bat! And yet, here he was, sitting in your kitchen, watching you make him some (vegan) mac n’ cheese.

Originally, Damian did not understand the obsession his family seemed to have with you. He spent days complaining, stomping around the manor, irritated that his family was wasting time with some… weakling. It seemed that every time he walked into a room, the only topic of discussion was you.

As one of the newer additions to the family, and a biological one at that, it seemed he had missed out on something vital to his family. So, he decided to just… ask, as his father would advise, just why they were wasting time on someone who wouldn’t ever be able to adhere to the illustrious standards his family had set.

The person he decided on was Grayson, someone he normally looked up to.

He sat across from his older brother, who was preoccupied with that insipid app that Drake had designed, keeping track of your vitals and ensuring your safety. Finally, fed up with being ignored, Damian cleared his throat to alert his brother of his presence.

Grayson looked up and beamed, bouncing up to flop down next to Damian.

“What’s up, lil’ D?” Grayson asked, voice jovial even as he spared a glance at his screen.

“Tt. Grayson, I must… request your assistance.”

“Anything for you, lil’ D!” Grayson leaned over and rustled Damian’s hair. Damian, annoyed, fixed his hair and leaned away.

“I do not… I do not understand your recent… Preoccupation. It seems the family has decided, rather unanimously, that we will be gaining a new member. I do not understand why we must lower our standards!” He huffed, crossing his arms.

Grayson’s eyes softened. “Oh, lil’ D. It’s alright, you’re new, we should’ve known this would be confusing…” He looked away, staring out the window for a second, letting out a little sigh.

“I’m not really sure how to explain it, but sometimes, sometimes people, especially people like us, get… passionate. Dinah likes to explain it away as the way we… deal with the constant loss, the uncertainty. Vigilantes don’t ever do anything in halves, afterall.”

“But why, but why them? They have nothing to add to our family, Grayson! They cannot fight, they are not trained, they have no extraordinary skills!” Damian huffed.

“Well, it doesn’t always make sense, Damian, and it doesn’t need to. Sometimes, sometimes people just… click, it doesn’t always have to make logical sense. I think if you got to know them, maybe you’d understand it a bit better.”

Grayson smiled, looking back at Damian. Damian looked away, blushing. He didn’t like not getting something; it made him feel vulnerable, weak, like he was missing out on something everyone else just seemed to get.

“And this is, this is… typical, for vigilantes such as our family?” He asked, voice quiet with mortification. Grayson smiled softly.

“Of course, Lil’ D. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate, and there’s no way we’re gonna let someone else get hurt. I mean, just think about it; do you think they could defend themselves?”

Damian shook his head.

“And there’s no way they’ll be able to defend themselves. As vigilantes, especially in Gotham, we see the truth, we see how nasty the world can truly be. Most civilians just don’t get it. So, I think we can be forgiven for being a little intense, right?” He laughed, elbowing Damian gently.

“I mean, just think about Jon getting hurt.”

Damian scowled. “I would not allow it. It would never happen.” He said, certainty clear in his voice.

Grayson snorted. “I know, Lil’ D. I’m just using him as an example; now take those feelings, and imagine if Jon couldn’t defend himself. “

“I-I do not know what I would do.”

“And that’s okay, you’ll get it eventually, okay? It’s hard to come to terms with, at first.”

“I still do not understand why you have chosen such an unworthy target for your affections, but I will… try. To understand.” Damian looked down, face tinged slightly red in embarrassment.

Grayson ruffled his hair again, and peeked at his screen. “Maybe ask Cass to take you, or Jason? I have a shift in a little while. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you, Damian. It’s okay to have questions, to not get it. It’ll click eventually.”

So, Damian did.

While embarrassing, the idea of not getting something that was clearly of high importance to his family rankled in his chest. So, he approached Cain and asked for her help.

She was in her studio, as she normally was at noon on the weekends, working on a new routine. Damian paused in the door, waiting for her to finish up. No matter how many times he saw her, especially during her performances, he was always surprised by just how graceful the young woman managed to be.

It was normal for his family to move with a lithe grace, especially Grayson, who seemed to move so fluidly he lacked a skeletal structure, couldn’t compete with the natural poise Cain held herself with.

She finished up her routine with a flourish, then rose to her feet with a sigh. She floated over to her water bottle and took a sip, before turning around to face Damian. She smiled gently, eyes crinkling at the corners, her slightly damp choppy black hair framing her face perfectly.

“Little brother,” she said, delight clear in her voice.

“Cain,” Damian greeted, nodding his head and moving into the room.

Cain sank to the floor, back against the mirrored wall, and patted the wooden floor next to her.

“Sit,” she said.

He did. There was no refusing Cain, after all.

“You seem… confused.” She glanced over at him, taking another small sip.

“Yes. I do not… Understand the new obsession you have all taken with that Civilian.”

Cain nodded. “Yes.”

“Grayson explained the general feelings of protectiveness, but was unable to elaborate; why them?” Damian crinkled his face, nose scrunching.

Cain laughed. “Stubborn, not seeing.” She poked his forehead, startling him. He scowled further, rubbing the spot. It didn’t really hurt, but he was not about to let her get away with poking him like a child!

She snickered at his bewildered expression.

“It is hard to explain… Instinct.” She hummed, looking away in contemplation.

“Innocence. They do not know… the violence, the heartache… they are kind.”

So it was about the contrast, Damian concluded. The difference between a trained vigilante and a weakling.

“They cannot… protect self. Need help. Like baby.” She continued, sighing and leaning a hand against her cheek, propped against her knees.

“Like… Like Titus, or Alfred the cat. Need looking after.”

Just like that, it clicked.

You were utterly defenseless. Completely alone, with no one to prevent you from being hurt, or worse, killed. You were like a young kitten, unable to open their eyes to see their savior, like the one Damian had fostered.

A warmth bloomed in his chest. You would be like the kitten, and he would protect your innocence, no matter the cost.

Cass smiled widely, scrunching her nose.

Just like that, Damian was clamoring to get involved. He could not wait until you were home, and he would be able to ensure your safety, keeping you from losing that childlike innocence, that thin film over your eyes preventing you from seeing the true danger.

It was Drake who had the brilliant idea to place Damian in the field; Damian, for all of his sword-related faults, was still young, after all. Someone as naive as you would be sure to enjoy looking after such a cute child, not being able to see who was truly caring for who.

While both Grayson and Todd had failed to make your acquaintance, it seemed you were too aware of stranger danger to fully fall for the ruse, he knew Cain had made inroads as a member of your book club. Surely, having a young brother by her side would only make it easier to get closer to you.

And just like that, the trap was set, and Damian was ready to act.

The next week, your book club would be meeting to discuss the selected offerings. You had wisely offered up Pride and Prejudice. Damian could still hear the muffled curses Todd had let out; you had no clue the extent to which you had so thoroughly endeared yourself to him, just by picking an Austen novel. Damian could not help but be amused, Todd was easy to enthrall despite his tough exterior; it was almost comical.

Cain had brought him with, dressed in clothes he was told were appropriate for his age (Grayson had laughed and forced him to stand for pictures. He would secure his revenge, and make sure to talk badly about him. He would be victorious in the so-called prank war, after all, and you would stand at his side, unscathed.).

You opened the door, smiling and bringing Cain in for a hug. Even from his position, he could see Cain melt into the hug, smiling and bringing an arm up to pat your back gently.

“Hello,” she sighed as you pulled back, looking her over.

“Oh, Hello!” you said, looking down at Damian.

He sighed internally. It would take everything he had, but the thoughts of showing you Bat-Cow would get him through the evening. He smiled brightly, artificially pitching his voice up slightly.

“Hi!” He said, stepping forward and shaking your hand with vigor. “I’m Cass’s brother, Damian!”

“Oh, so you have a brother?” You said, smiling even brighter. It almost hurt Damian’s face in sympathy, how widely you were able to smile. Was it due to your innocence?

You ushered the two of them inside.

“Yes, Our father forgot Damian would be home tonight, and did not arrange for a babysitter.”

“Oh, that’s more than alright! Here, are you hungry, kiddo? I’ll make you something to snack on while the book club gets going! Cass, you can take a seat if you want.”

Damian watched as you puttered around the kitchen, enamored with the way you seemed completely oblivious to the danger present in your home. You were lucky he was there to protect you; what if Cass hadn’t been a kind person? You would’ve had no idea you were letting a threat into your house, and into your life! Luckily for you, Cass would never harm a hair on your head, let alone let you get hurt.

“Milk okay for the Mac n’ cheese, kiddo?” You asked, not bothering to turn around as you pulled down a box.

He informed you he was vegan.

You took it in stride, pulling out some soy milk. He was almost surprised you would have some, but your clear kindness would never allow you to potentially offend a guest. Damian could feel a bout of cuteness aggression overtaking him, and he clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood under the lip of the counter.

The rest of the night passed without incident, though you seemed particularly interested in Damian’s contributions to the conversation about Austen’s works. He could not help but be satisfied at the impression he had made; it was not his fault the majority of the people you surrounded with could not understand basic literary analysis, after all.

Every week for the next few months, Damian would tag along to book club; he eventually managed to become your favorite conversational partner, though Cain was a close second, as you slowly began to ignore the others in the club. It was better this way, after all; they could not protect you.

However, Damian soon became frustrated by the lack of progress. They were talking to you regularly, yes, but he wanted you safe at home! He could tell the others were building in frustration as well, and yet the consensus remained; they would need to take more time.

So, he approached Todd.

And Todd agreed.

The plan was set.

Damian waited breathlessly in the alley by your workplace. It would be easy, after all, to get you to follow him down into the dark.

The second he saw you, he took a few wide steps back, and began to scream.

“Help!” He shouted, crumpling to the floor. He let his voice take on a tinge of desperation, pitching slightly higher to exaggerate his innocence and hopefully trigger your panic so you would approach without a second thought.

It worked, and your pounding footsteps soon approached.

“Hello?!” You called, frantically dropping to your knees in front of his crumpled form.

“D-Damian?” You cried, searching desperately for the injury.

Behind you, he could see Todd approach, syringe in hand.

He let out a groan and rolled over, head in your lap. As you ran your hands over his back, looking for something, he surreptitiously grabbed your waist, hoping to prevent you from running, just in case.

Finally, Todd was in range. He stuck the syringe into your neck without a second thought, and you were out like a light.

Damian was just glad your hand had landed in his hair.

#yandere batfam #yandere cassandra cain #yandere tim drake #yandere bruce wayne #yandere jason todd #yandere dick grayson #yandere damian wayne #lethwrites #platonic yandere

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twstedfreak · 3 months ago

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Married Life with Gojo Satoru

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵pairing !! : Gojo Satoru x Reader ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵contains !! : Fluff, crack, domestic chaos, Satoru being the most dramatic husband ever, excessive whining, teasing, playful bullying, lots of kisses, clingy Gojo, height difference antics, public displays of affection, and a very patient (or maybe just resigned) spouse (you). ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵word count !! : 523 words ⇢ read on ao3 here.

pt. 1 | next

Husband! Satoru who makes a grand entrance every time he comes home. No, seriously. You could be in the kitchen, minding your own business, and suddenly—BAM! The door flies open, and he struts in like he’s walking a red carpet. “Honey, I’m home!” he announces, sunglasses sliding down his nose as he dramatically tosses his coat aside. If you don’t immediately run into his arms like a dramatic movie scene, he’ll pout. “What, no welcome home kiss? I fought so hard today…” (He did not. He had a meeting and ate sweets the entire time.)

Husband! Satoru who will 100% use his infinity against you—for the dumbest reasons. You try to flick his forehead? Your finger stops mid-air. You attempt to steal his snacks? Nope, your hand just hovers in place, and he smirks. “Ah, ah, ah~ only good spouses get a bite,” he teases, before popping the treat into his mouth and humming in satisfaction. The audacity. The disrespect.

Husband! Satoru who definitely fakes injuries for attention. “Baaabe,” he whines, draping himself across your lap like he’s on his deathbed. “I barely survived today… my students were so mean… I need comfort… kiss my forehead, please.” You roll your eyes, but when you don’t immediately comply, he gasps. Gasps. “Oh my god. You’re heartless. I married a monster.”

Husband! Satoru who absolutely bullies you with love. If you yawn, he pokes your cheek and coos, “Aww, is my little baby sleepy?” If you wear his clothes (which, by the way, are now yours), he melts on the spot. “Look at you~ all cute and wifey~” And if you ever trip over nothing? He’s already behind you, whispering, “Don’t worry, babe… I’ll still love you even if gravity doesn’t.”

Husband! Satoru who abuses his height difference just to annoy you. Need something from the top shelf? He grabs it… but then holds it above your head, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh? You want this? Say ‘please, my amazing, incredibly handsome husband~’” Smack him. Immediately.

Husband! Satoru who has zero chill in public. The second someone so much as looks at you for too long, he’s pulling you into his side, pressing a loud, obnoxious kiss to your cheek. “Aww, babe, you’re so popular~ But don’t worry, I know you only have eyes for me.” Meanwhile, the poor stranger was literally just walking by.

Husband! Satoru who dramatically complains whenever you leave the bed first. “Nooo, don’t gooo,” he groans, wrapping his entire body around you like a human octopus. “Stay with me. We can survive on love and air conditioning.” When you finally pry yourself free, he flops back against the pillows with a defeated sigh. “So this is what heartbreak feels like.”

Husband! Satoru who always makes sure you know just how much he loves you. Whether it’s pulling you close at night, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, or whispering “You’re my favorite person in the world” when he thinks you’re asleep, he means every word. And honestly? You wouldn’t trade your ridiculous, over-the-top, drama king of a husband for anything.

…Well. Maybe for five minutes of peace. A/N: I’m going to be dumping all my works here, so please bear with me! I’ll also be adding a few more parts next, so stay tuned. Hope you enjoy reading! 😊

Credits to @cafekitsune for the pretty divider! :3

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡꩜ ©freakycafetomoe : Do not steal, modify, tweak, translate, or plagiarize anything from my blog. Do not use / copy my template or theme. Respect my work and creativity, love u guys. 🚨

navigation. taglist. jjk masterlist. ˚ 　 ⤹ 　 ❝ ©freakycafetomoe

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x1asirene · 1 month ago

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f1 driver!rafayel as your bf headcanons | sfw ver.

✧ f1 driver!rafayel is mclaren’s golden prince with a sunshine grin and the attention span of a golden retriever. quick on the track, chaotic off it—he’s as known for his last-minute overtakes as he is for forgetting team briefings because he was too busy facetiming with you. he plays the fool off-circuit, but once he’s in the car? pure instinct. bold, erratic, dangerously sharp—he drives like he was born for chaos.

✧ f1 driver!rafayel will ditch a briefing the second he hears you’re in the paddock. doesn’t matter if it’s ten minutes to lights out—he’s speed-walking to find you like “real question is: how fast can i hug her before pr gets mad?”

✧ f1 driver!rafayel has you do pre-race rituals with him religiously. he insists you “charge” his gloves by holding them for ten seconds (eyes closed, very serious), demands a forehead kiss before he slides on his helmet, and makes you do a silly handshake he invented just for the two of you. he won’t get in the car without your “good luck kiss” and your very serious job of bopping him on the helmet like it’s a blessing. if he loses, he swears it’s because “you didn’t tap hard enough.” he claims he’s unbeatable when you do all of it. (statistically? he’s not wrong.)

✧ f1 driver!rafayel is emotionally dramatic when you’re not trackside. he’ll text you “miss u angeleyes pls manifest p1 or i’ll cry on tv” and then whisper your name into the radio pre-race like it’s a prayer. if he has a bad quali session, he’ll immediately blame it on your absence: “my cutie wasn’t here. what did you expect?”

✧ f1 driver!rafayel has a chaotic online presence. his instagram is a mess of blurry pictures of you, meme reposts, and captions like “lost 0.3 seconds in turn 4 but gained +100 serotonin from her smile. worth it.” his fans love you more than they love the car.

✧ f1 driver!rafayel had your name embroidered on the inside of his gloves and the underside of his steering wheel. he says it’s to keep you “close” on track days, even though he already has a photo of you taped inside his helmet bag.

✧ f1 driver!rafayel gets irrationally pouty when you cheer for another driver. doesn’t matter if it’s his own teammate. he’ll curse the air like a disney villain, “betrayal! treason! i can’t believe this.” and then proceed to overtake said teammate like he’s fighting to win back your honor.

✧ f1 driver!rafayel will dramatically flop face-first onto the hospitality couch if you’re not at the paddock. the team knows the drill: someone get him snacks, someone text you, someone hide his phone before he tweets “no y/n no podium. physics.”

✧ f1 driver!rafayel has 3 speed penalties and 1 grid drop on record for speeding into the pit lane just to wave at you with both hands out the cockpit. the FIA called it reckless. he called it “romantic.”

✧ f1 driver!rafayel is the king of post-race clinging. whether he’s won or crashed out, he’ll throw himself into your arms like a lovesick golden retriever. sometimes he won’t even shower first. “you love me even sweaty, right?” you do. but you still wrinkle your nose.

# do not repost, translate, or upload my work to any other platforms. tumblr reblogs are welcome and appreciated, but reposting outside of this blog is not permitted !

— ✦ © @ x1asirene, tumblr 2025 ✧

#rafayel x reader #love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel x you #love and deep space rafayel #rafayel x y/n #lnds qi yu #lads x reader #lnds headcanons #lnds imagines

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gardenladysworld · 4 months ago

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Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining, NSFW, human x Na'vi, size difference

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

So basically this part is a full smut. But here we are :')

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf, @nikipuppeteer@eliankm, @quintessences0posts, @minjianhyung

Part 18. vol 2: To remember

Part 19: To carry

You drag the brush through your damp hair, wincing slightly when it snags on a knot. Your muscles still ache in the best way possible, a dull throb deep in your bones that makes you feel flushed all over again. It’s been hours since you left the hut with Neteyam, hours since his lips were on you, since his hands—

The door to your quarters slams open so violently that you nearly jump out of your chair.

Kate strides in like she owns the place, eyes locking onto you immediately. Before you can even protest, she shuts the door just as aggressively, spins on her heel, and plants her hands on her hips.

"Spill," she commands.

You blink. "What—"

"Don’t play dumb," she cuts you off, pointing a finger at you like you’re on trial. "I know damn well you weren’t here last night, and I know Neteyam didn’t walk you back like you two promised Norm."

Shit.

Your heart kicks up, heat creeping up your neck. "How do you—"

"Because Norm was confused as hell when you weren’t at breakfast," Kate smirks, crossing her arms. "So I may have told him you got back late, crashed, and overslept."

Your jaw drops. "What?!"

"You’re welcome, by the way," she says, looking far too pleased with herself.

"Kate!"

"What? Did you want him to know you were out all night getting railed by the chief’s son?"

Your face burns instantly. "Kate! How do~?!"

She grins like the menace she is and flops onto your bed, leaning back on her elbows. "So? Tell me everything."

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Oh my God—"

"Uh-uh," she tuts, kicking at your leg. "Don’t act all shy now. I just covered for your ass. The least you can do is tell me how it was. And don’t lie—I can see it all over your face. You’re glowing like one of those bioluminescent plants on your desk. And your neck…" She pointed towards the few lovebites what was left by Neteyam.

You exhale sharply, dropping your hands to your neck. Kate’s not going to let this go. And, honestly… maybe you do need to talk about it.

Because, holy shit.

You clear your throat, still avoiding her eyes. "We… we started heading back."

"And?"

You swallow. "And… we got a little distracted."

Kate squints. "Define distracted."

Your stomach flips just thinking about it. The feel of Neteyam’s hands on your waist, the way his lips traced over your jaw as you kissed him back, lost in each other—

You shift in your seat. "We started kissing and, um… we never actually made it back."

Kate’s eyes widen. "Oh, bitch."

You let out an embarrassed laugh, pressing your cool hands to your flushed cheeks. "Okay, so we were walking back, just like we promised Norm," you begin, setting your brush down as you turn toward her. "But then we stopped for a second—you know, to talk..."

Kate groans, flopping back dramatically. "Oh, this already sounds like the beginning of a bad decision."

"Oh, it was," you laugh, shaking your head. "One second, we were kissing. The next I was on his ikran towards the hut.

Kate’s eyes widen. "Wait, wait. To the hut? Outside? You little heathen."

"Listen, I didn’t plan for it to happen like that!" You defend, laughing. "But, you know, one thing led to another, and suddenly, we were stumbling back to the hunter’s hut instead of the outpost."

Kate smacks your arm. "So, you lied to Norm too!"

"I prefer to think of it as an unspoken change of plans," you tease, winking. "Anyway, once we got inside, it was over for me. He was all over me, Kate. Like, kissing me, touching me, whispering all this shit in Na’vi—I swear, I have never been this turned on in my entire life."

Kate fans herself. "Okay, okay, but tell me the real tea. How was it?"

Your grin turns positively sinful. "Insane. Like, I didn’t know I could come that hard. Whether he was eating me out or fucking me, it was just—Eywa, I think he ruined me."

Kate makes a strangled noise, her mouth open in shock. "Hold the hell up. He went down on you?"

"Oh, Kate," you sigh, shaking your head. "Not just 'went down on me.' He fucking worshipped me. He had me shaking, sobbing, gripping onto his braids like my life depended on it."

Kate looks like she might combust on the spot. "You’re lying."

"I’m not," you say, eyes wide with sincerity. "He had me coming in, like, two minutes. And then he just kept going."

Kate groans, burying her face in your pillow. "This is so unfair. Why do you get the ten-foot-tall sex god?"

"Because I deserve nice things," you quip, smirking.

Kate lifts her head, her eyes gleaming with pure nosiness. "Okay, but what about the main event? Like, how big are we talking?"

You pause for dramatic effect. Then, with a slow, knowing look, you simply say: "Big."

Kate gasps. "Like, scary big?"

You laugh. "At first? A little, yeah. But Neteyam was so gentle. He was holding himself back, trembling above me because he didn’t want to hurt me." Your voice softens slightly as you recall the way he shuddered, the way he pressed slow, reverent kisses to your skin as he waited for you to adjust. "He took his time, made sure I was okay every step of the way."

Kate sighs, clutching her chest. "Ugh, that’s so hot."

"But," you continue, eyes darkening with memory, "once I told him not to hold back? He lost it."

Kate’s jaw drops. "And?"

"And then he fucked me so good, I think I forgot my own name." You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. "I was gripping onto him, telling him how good he felt, and he just—ugh, Kate, the noises he was making? He was so deep, so strong, and when he came—"

"STOP," Kate wails, throwing a pillow at you. "I’m going to die alone, and it’s your fault."

You cackle, catching the pillow as she groans dramatically.

Kate sighs, shaking her head. "So, let me get this straight. You had the best night of your life, your hot alien boyfriend practically worshipped your body, and you’re sitting here acting like a normal person?"

"Trust me," you murmur, stretching slightly as you feel the dull ache still lingering between your thighs. "I am not normal right now."

Kate grins. "Damn right, you’re not. You’re the luckiest bitch alive."

You smirk, leaning back against your bed with a dreamy sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I really am.”

You stretch your legs out on the bed, still grinning as you let your head fall back against the pillow, the memories of this morning making warmth pool deep in your belly all over again.

Kate, still lying beside you, turns her head toward you, her blue eyes gleaming with anticipation. "You’re holding back on me. I can feel it. What else happened?"

You hum, biting your lip, debating whether or not to keep talking. But then again, when have you ever kept anything from Kate?

So, you smirk. "Okay, so… this morning."

Kate immediately sits up, cross-legged, fully invested. "Yes?"

You sigh dreamily, running a hand through your still-damp hair. "He got up before me, right? And when I finally woke up, he was just sitting there, watching me with this stupidly soft look on his face. Like, full-on ‘you are my entire world’ eyes."

Kate clutches her chest dramatically. "Stop. You’re killing me."

You snicker. "And then—he brought me breakfast. Like, actual food. He went out and got fruit for me before I even woke up."

Kate gasps. "So, he dicked you down and took care of you afterward? Oh, he’s a fucking keeper."

You nod, grinning. "Right? And I thought, oh wow, how sweet of him, he’s letting me eat in peace—but no. That was just his way of making sure I had energy. Because the second I finished eating, he went down on me again."

Kate’s jaw drops. "No. Fucking. Way."

"Oh, yes way." You sigh, shivering at the memory. "Kate, I swear, he was starving for it. Like, I’ve never seen a man so desperate before in my life. It was like years of longing just…” you snap your finger “exploded all at once. Kate, I swear, I have never seen someone eat pussy with that level of dedication.”

Kate groans, flopping back down onto the bed, smacking a pillow over her face. "That is so unfair. So insanely unfair."

You laugh, tilting your head toward her. "I mean, not gonna lie, I thought I was gonna pass out. He just would not stop. I was literally begging him at one point, and he still wasn’t done."

Kate lifts the pillow off her face just enough to peek at you. "Begging him to stop?"

"Yes," you groan, throwing an arm over your face. "Like, I lost count of how many times I came, and he still wanted more.”

Kate lets out an inhuman noise. "I am suffering right now."

You grin, rolling onto your side to face her. "And the noises he was making? Holy shit. He was moaning, growling—at one point, I swear he was purring while his tongue was in me."

Kate slaps the bed. "I need a Na’vi man immediately."

You laugh, stretching your arms above your head.

Kate is kicking her feet like a schoolgirl. "I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down."

"I need to sit down somewhere else and maybe touch some grass."

You laugh breathlessly. "His face was buried between my legs, and the noises he was making—Kate, I think he blacked out at one point. He kept mumbling shit like 'so sweet' and 'I need more' and 'I could stay here forever.' I was genuinely concerned he was never going to stop."

Kate groans into the pillow. "Did you die? Did you actually die?"

"Oh, I ascended. I left my body. Eywa had to personally send me back because I wasn’t supposed to go yet."

Kate wheezes, but you’re not done.

"And after, when I could finally breathe again, he just—he looked so fucking pleased with himself, all smug and satisfied. So, I was like, okay. My turn."

Kate’s eyes go impossibly wide. "You—"

You nod, grinning. "I went down on him."

Kate shrieks, rolling onto her stomach and kicking her feet against the mattress. "Tell me. Every. Single. Thing.”

You groan, flopping onto your back. "Yeah. And let me tell you—it was a fucking pain in the ass."

Kate frowns. "What? Why?"

You sigh dramatically. "Because of the goddamn mask, Kate. I had to hold my breath every time I pulled it off, and let me tell you—when you’re trying to fit a thick-ass ten-foot-tall Na’vi’s dick in your mouth while holding your breath, it is not easy."

Kate fucking howls, clutching her stomach as she laughs.

You shake your head. "I had to keep stopping to put my mask back on and breathe, but I managed. Somehow."

Kate wipes tears from her eyes. "I can’t—oh my god—you literally risked suffocating just to suck his dick."

You smirk. "And you know what? The noises he made made up for the lung-burning pain.” you continue, enjoying the way she looks like she’s about to die. "And when he came, he growled so deep I felt it in my fucking bones.”

Kate groans. "I cannot believe you’re living my dream right now."

You smirk. "Believe it, baby. It happened. And I can still hear those sounds he made. If I die tomorrow, just know I went out happy."

Kate sighs dramatically. "You’re officially my hero. And also, I hate you."

You giggle, stretching out on the bed. "I regret nothing.”

Neteyam barely steps into the family’s tent before Jake’s sharp gaze locks onto him. His father is sitting near the fire, sharpening a blade, but the moment Neteyam enters, Jake’s expression shifts—his keen eyes narrowing as he takes in his son’s appearance.

“You look like shit,” Jake comments, his tone neutral but laced with something pointed. “Where were you all night?”

Neteyam stills, his body instinctively tensing. He knew this was coming. He had been prepared for it—at least, he thought he was. But now, standing here, the weight of last night still wrapped around him like a second skin, he doesn’t want to ruin it. Doesn’t want to let this moment, this rare sliver of happiness, be tainted by the inevitable disapproval. So, he hesitates.

And Jake notices. His father’s jaw tightens. “I asked you a question.”

Neteyam exhales through his nose, keeping his voice measured. “I was out.”

Jake’s brow furrows, his ears flicking back slightly. “Out where?”

“Just… out.”

Jake sets the blade down with a sharp clank, standing up. “Don’t do that.” His voice is firmer now, carrying the weight of a man who has had to give orders his whole life. “Don’t stand there and dodge my question. I know you didn’t come back last night. So I’ll ask again—where the hell were you?”

Neteyam clenches his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. He doesn’t want to fight. Not now. Not when his body still hums with the memory of her touch, not when he can still feel the echo of her breath against his skin. But his silence is its own answer.

Jake scoffs, crossing his arms. “You know, you’ve been a little too distracted lately. First, you’re sneaking off, now you’re staying out all night?” His expression darkens. “You need to be better than this, Neteyam.”

And that—that does it. Something in Neteyam snaps. His whole body goes rigid, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale. “Better?” His voice is quiet, but the sharp edge in it makes Jake’s ears twitch.

Jake doesn’t back down. “Yeah. Better. You’re the eldest, Neteyam. You don’t get to screw around like this.”

Neteyam’s fists clench at his sides. His entire life has been spent being better. He has done everything asked of him. And yet—this one thing, this one thing for himself, and suddenly, he’s failing? The frustration that’s been simmering under his skin for years erupts like a storm. “I have always been better!” Neteyam’s voice rises, his breath shaking as he takes a step forward. “I have always done everything you asked, everything you expected of me!” His tail lashes behind him, his ears pinned back in anger. “I kept my siblings safe. I protected them, even when it meant taking the blame for their mistakes! I led the last Iknimaya yesterday without a single mistake!” His chest heaves. “And now—now, when I do one thing for myself, I’m suddenly the worst son ever?”

Jake’s expression hardens. “This isn’t about—”

“Yes, it is!” Neteyam cuts him off, his voice cracking with emotion. His breaths are ragged, his golden eyes burning with something raw, something heavy. “I have given everything to this family! Every damn moment of my life has been spent proving myself—to you, to the clan! And for what?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “So you can tell me I should be better?”

Jake’s tail flicks sharply, his own anger rising. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Then what did you mean, huh?” Neteyam challenges, stepping closer. His whole body is vibrating with unspent energy, his heart hammering in his chest. “Because I am so tired of this, Dad. Of never being enough. Of never getting to be anything other than what you need me to be.” His voice drops lower, filled with something vulnerable, something close to breaking. “For once—I just wanted something for myself.”

The tent is thick with silence, the only sound is their uneven breathing. Jake looks at him, his jaw clenched, his ears twitching as he processes his son’s words. And for the first time, Neteyam doesn’t care if he’s disappointed. Because this isn’t about proving himself anymore. This isn’t about what Jake wants. This is about him.

The silence between them is thick, heavy with words unspoken. Jake just looks at him now, his sharp golden eyes studying his son—really looking at him. And for the first time, he sees not a boy, not the eager child who used to cling to his every word, but a man. A man who is standing before him, chest heaving, fists clenched, his whole body trembling—not with fear, not with uncertainty, but with anger.

A man who has spent his whole life trying to be exactly what Jake expected. And for the first time, Jake wonders if maybe—maybe—he’s been expecting too much. Neteyam swallows, his jaw tight, his ears pinned back as he glares at his father. But beneath the anger, beneath the frustration, there’s something else—something that makes Jake’s stomach twist.

Something that looks an awful lot like hurt.

Neteyam lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You know what really pisses me off?” His voice is raw, strained, cracking at the edges. “It’s not the expectations. It’s not even the pressure.” His golden eyes burn as they lock onto Jake’s. “It’s the fact that no matter what I do, you always make me feel like it’s never enough.”

Jake stiffens.

Neteyam takes a shaky breath, running a hand through his braids in frustration. “I have always tried to be the son you wanted, the leader you needed me to be. I listened. I obeyed. I put my family, my siblings—the entire damn clan—before myself. I never once complained. Not once.” His voice drops lower, rough with emotion. “And you still look at me like I will never be the man you want me to be.”

Jake exhales through his nose, his expression unreadable. “Neteyam—”

“No.” Neteyam shakes his head, his hands balling into fists. “You don’t get to talk your way out of this. Because I see it, Dad. I see it in your eyes every time I make a mistake. The way you look at me, like I’m failing, like I’m not good enough.” He lets out a harsh breath, his shoulders shaking. “And the worst part? I believed it.” His throat bobs as he swallows, blinking rapidly. “I spent my whole life believing that no matter how hard I tried, I would never be the son you wanted me to be.”

Jake’s jaw tightens, something flickering behind his gaze. Neteyam lets out a broken laugh, shaking his head. “Do you know how badly I wanted to make you proud?” His voice cracks. “How much I needed to hear you say that I was enough?”

Jake swallows hard. Because fuck. He thinks back—to every time Neteyam took the blame for his siblings, to every time he stood tall, unflinching, unwavering, carrying responsibilities that Jake put on his shoulders. And now, standing here, looking at his son—really looking at him—Jake sees it clearly.

Neteyam never just wanted to be a good warrior, a strong leader, the perfect heir. He just wanted to be his father’s son. Jake lets out a slow breath, his shoulders easing as something inside him shifts. “Neteyam.” His voice is softer now, calmer.

But Neteyam doesn’t want calm. Not now. His ears flatten, his tail lashing behind him. “What? Are you going to tell me I should be better again?” His lips curl into a humorless smile. “That I should be the perfect son? The perfect leader? Because guess what, Dad—I am trying. I have always been trying.”

Jake’s expression shifts—his ears twitching, his lips parting slightly, like he wants to say something, like maybe—maybe—he’s finally starting to understand.

But Neteyam doesn’t want to hear it. Because he already knows the answer. His chest still tight with emotion, he shakes his head and turns away. “I have training to do,” he mutters. His voice is steady, but his body is rigid, his tail snapping behind him.

Jake watches him go, his face unreadable, his jaw locked. Neteyam doesn’t look back. He walks out of the tent, his breath heavy, his mind racing.

The younger warriors are already waiting for him, gathered in the training grounds. The same place he’s always been. The same responsibility he’s always carried. Once, he might have thought it was just another duty—another burden placed on his shoulders simply because of who he is.

But now?

Now, it’s his. They are his responsibility. His warriors. His lessons to teach.

The duty his father put on his shoulders. The responsibility that has always belonged to him. He is the eldest. The future leader. And no matter what personal battles rage inside him, he will do what is expected.

And as he steps forward to lead them, pushing down the lingering ache in his chest, he reminds himself of one thing— Even if his father will never see him for who he is, he will still stand tall.

The lab is dimly lit, humming softly with the quiet whir of machines, the faint glow of monitors casting long shadows over the walls. The others have long since gone to sleep, but he knows you haven’t.

You never do.

Neteyam moves easily through the outpost, ducking through the doorway and passing through the airlock with quiet familiarity. He’s been here enough times to know exactly where to find you. Past the main workstations, near the back corner where your massive desk is buried under notebooks, equipment, and scattered samples.

And there you are. Hunched over a microscope, completely lost in your work, oblivious to everything else. His chest tightens with something deep, something warm.

He missed you. He hadn’t realized just how badly he needed to see you until this moment. And it’s ridiculous, because he had you last night—finally, fully had you. And again this morning, wrapped up in you, touching and kissing and worshiping you until neither of you could breathe.

But it wasn’t enough. It will never be enough.

Neteyam steps closer, his large frame casting a long shadow over your workspace, but you don’t notice him. Your brows are furrowed, lips pursed in thought, entirely consumed by whatever sample you’re analyzing. He smirks slightly, shifting his weight before speaking. "You never sleep, do you, syulang?"

The sound of his voice shatters the silence. You jump so violently that you nearly knock over the entire microscope, a startled yelp escaping your lips. Your wide eyes snap up to him, your hand flying to your chest. “Holy shit, Neteyam!” you gasp, breathing hard. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Neteyam grins, but it quickly turns into a wince as you hurl the nearest object at him—a small vial of clear liquid. He easily catches it, holding it up with a smirk. "Throwing things at me now, ma’yawne?"

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" you accuse, still trying to calm your racing heart.

Neteyam chuckles, setting the vial down on the desk before leaning against it, his tail flicking lazily behind him. "You need to be more aware of your surroundings. What if I was a real threat?"

You huff, rolling your eyes as you retrieve your fallen notebook. "The only threat here is me deciding not to kiss you for scaring the shit out of me."

Neteyam gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "No kisses? You wound me."

You squint at him, suspicious. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

His ears flick, the playful smirk still tugging at his lips. "Maybe a little."

You shake your head, sighing. "You are so lucky you’re hot."

Neteyam grins, leaning down until his face is just inches from yours. "Lucky, huh?" His voice drops, warm and teasing. "So you do think I’m hot."

You scoff, trying (and failing) to fight the smile pulling at your lips. "Obviously." You gesture to him, your eyes flicking over his broad shoulders, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "You are unfairly gorgeous."

Neteyam hums, smug. "Good to know."

You shake your head, exhaling, and then your expression shifts—your teasing smirk softens, your brows knitting together just slightly as you look at him. Really look at him. "You look troubled, love," you murmur, your voice gentle, but sure.

Neteyam stills. For a moment, he doesn’t move, caught off guard by how easily you see through him. How effortlessly you pick apart the pieces of him, no matter how well he hides them. He swallows, his golden eyes lingering on your face, before he steps forward, moving with quiet intent.

Your chair is small compared to him, the metal wheels scraping softly against the floor as she pushes herself away from the desk when he kneels before you. His massive frame folds with practiced grace, his strong arms sliding around your waist as he rests his forehead against your stomach.

Your breath hitches, but you don’t hesitate. Your hands move instantly to his head, fingers slipping into his thick braids, stroking, soothing. “What happened, my love?” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss against the crown of his head.

Neteyam exhales slowly, his grip tightening around you. And finally—finally—he breathes.

You don’t ask again. You just hold him.

Your small hands cradle his head, your fingers threading through his thick braids with slow, soothing motions. The steady rhythm of your touch is grounding, pulling him back from the storm raging in his chest. And then—softly, barely above a whisper—you begin to hum.

The melody is unfamiliar, but it’s gentle, warm, wrapping around him like a lullaby. Neteyam exhales, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as his body sags against you. The tension in his shoulders doesn’t fully leave, but it lessens—just a little.

Your lips press another soft kiss to his head, lingering there for a moment. “You don’t have to tell me,” you murmur, voice quiet, patient. “But I’ll be here if you need me.”

Something in Neteyam clenches at that. At how easy you make it. You don’t push, don’t demand answers, don’t pry at the wounds he isn’t ready to expose. You just hold him, letting him exist in this moment without expectation.

His breathing slows. Your hands begin to move, sliding down from his hair to his shoulders, your small fingers pressing gently against the tight muscles there. Your touch is featherlight at first, testing, before you start working out the tension coiled beneath his skin.

“My strong warrior,” you coo softly, kneading at the knots in his shoulders, coaxing the stiffness away.

Neteyam shudders. A quiet, shaky exhale slips past his lips. He doesn’t know how to say it—how to tell you that this, you, are the only thing keeping him together right now. So he doesn’t. He just holds you tighter, pressing his face deeper against your stomach, breathing you in, letting your warmth settle into his bones.

You don’t say anything at first—just let him breathe, let him exist in the quiet safety of your touch. Your fingers continue their slow, gentle movements over his shoulders, kneading away the tension that lingers there. The weight of him against you is grounding, and you can feel the way his body slowly relaxes, melting into your warmth.

But you can also feel the storm still lingering beneath the surface—the way his grip on you is just a little too tight, the way his breathing is steady but not quite even.

So, you do what you know he needs.

You start talking.

Softly.

Gently.

Filling the silence with something light, something safe.

“So,” you murmur, fingers tracing idle circles over his skin, “I finally got some readings back on the plant samples Norm brought in yesterday.”

Neteyam hums against you, a wordless sound of acknowledgment. You smile, pressing another absentminded kiss to the top of his head before continuing, keeping your voice quiet, soothing.

“It’s interesting,” you muse, letting your fingers drag down the strong lines of his back before smoothing over his shoulders again. “The bioluminescence is stronger in the younger samples, but as they mature, it seems to fade. Almost like they outgrow it.”

Neteyam shifts slightly, pressing his forehead a little firmer against your stomach. “Strange,” he murmurs, voice low, rough from exhaustion.

You hum in agreement, continuing your slow massage. “Yeah. We’re thinking it might be a defense mechanism—something to deter herbivores when they’re still small and fragile.”

Another hum from him, deeper this time. Encouraged by the way his body is slowly unwinding, you keep going, letting the soft cadence of your voice distract him, pull him from whatever dark thoughts he’s been trapped in.

“I had to run a few more tests, though,” you continue, smiling slightly to yourself. “And of course, Brian managed to spill half a vial of solution all over my desk, so I had to clean that up before I could even start.”

Neteyam lets out a quiet, tired huff against your skin. “Clumsy.”

You grin. “Right? I swear, for a scientist, that man has zero coordination.”

His tail flicks lazily against the floor, the tension in his muscles fading little by little. You keep talking, filling the air between you with easy, gentle words. And Neteyam—whether he responds with a hum, a quiet murmur, or simply the way his arms tighten around you—just listens.

You keep talking, letting your voice stay soft, soothing, your fingers working methodically over the knots in his shoulders. Neteyam doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt—just breathes against you, his arms locked around your waist as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him together.

"So," you murmur, letting your fingers trace along the curve of his traps, "Kate noticed something was off with me today."

That gets a reaction. Neteyam’s ears twitch slightly, but he doesn’t lift his head. He just lets out a slow breath against your stomach. You smirk. "Actually, ‘noticed’ is an understatement. More like she interrogated me like a damn FBI agent."

Neteyam hums, barely lifting his head enough to mumble, "What is FBI?"

You grin, fingers kneading into another stubborn knot. "Doesn’t matter. The point is, she knew. The second she saw me this morning, she was all over me, demanding details. You should have seen her, Neteyam. She was relentless."

One of his hands rubs absent circles against your lower back, and you feel his exhale before he speaks. "What did you tell her?"

You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see it. "What do you think I told her? She covered for me with Norm, so I kind of owed her. And, well..." You pause for dramatic effect. "Let’s just say she knows exactly why I was late today."

Neteyam groans, shifting slightly against you. "Skxawng," he mutters under his breath, the sound vibrating against your skin.

You grin. "Oh, come on. Like I could have gotten away with saying nothing? She literally called me out for glowing."

That makes him lift his head—just enough to rest his chin on your stomach, peering up at you with a smug, lopsided grin. "Glowing?"

You flick his ear gently, rolling your eyes. "Yes, glowing. Her words, not mine."

Neteyam just smirks, golden eyes gleaming as he watches you. "So, you told her everything?"

You arch a brow. "Maybe." Then, leaning down slightly, you lower your voice to a playful whisper. "Just enough to make her die of jealousy."

His tail flicks lazily behind him, his ears twitching under your touch. "And what exactly did you say, syulang?"

You sigh dramatically, letting your fingers continue their slow, soothing work on his shoulders. "Oh, you know. Just that I could barely walk this morning thanks to someone big and persistent."

Neteyam growls, the sound low and playful, and you can’t help but giggle. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, his tail flicking again. You grin down at him. "My whole body is still sore," you add, flicking his ear again for emphasis. "So, thank you for that."

His smirk deepens, his ears flicking forward in satisfaction. "You are welcome, yawne."

You scoff, playfully rolling your eyes. "I wasn’t thanking you, skxawng. I was complaining."

Neteyam just hums, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Mmm. You didn’t sound like you were complaining last night."

You groan, smacking his shoulder lightly. "Oh my Eywa, shut up."

Neteyam chuckles, his warm breath brushing over your stomach as he squeezes your waist, pressing a lazy kiss just below your ribs. "Never."

And despite the exhaustion still lingering in his body, despite whatever weight had been pressing on him before he walked in here—right now, in this moment, he’s lighter. Because you are here. Because you see him. Because you know exactly what he needs, even when he doesn’t say a word.

You watch him in silence for a long moment, your fingers stilling against his shoulders as you take him in. His massive frame is still kneeling on the hard metal floor, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, his head resting against your stomach.

And it makes you frown.

"Neteyam," you murmur, your hands moving up to cradle his face gently. He barely lifts his head, golden eyes flickering up to meet yours. You sigh, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. "Get up."

He blinks, his ears twitching. "What?"

"The floor is too hard," you insist, pushing lightly at his shoulders. "Too cold. You can't just kneel here all night."

But he doesn’t move. His arms tighten slightly around you, his tail flicking once before going still. Your frown deepens. "Neteyam."

His jaw clenches for a second, but then, with a small sigh, he finally relents. You guide him up with gentle hands, pulling him toward you until he settles, shifting his weight to sit cross-legged in front of you. The moment he’s fully seated, you pull him in again, his head resting on your lap this time.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you run your fingers through his braids, watching how this massive, powerful Na’vi warrior—someone who so many look up to, who carries so much responsibility—clings to you like a lost child.

Your heart aches for him. You lean down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his temple, your fingers still weaving through his hair. "Want to stay with me for the night?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, gentle and careful, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment between you.

Neteyam stiffens slightly, but only for a second. Then, he exhales, melting further against you. His grip on your waist loosens just enough for his hands to slide down, resting against your thighs, grounding himself.

He doesn’t answer right away. But when he does, his voice is quiet, raw. "Yes."

You press another kiss to his forehead, letting your lips linger for a moment before pulling back. Your fingers continue their soothing path through his braids, feeling the tension slowly ease from his body.

Then, your eyes flick toward the wall where the Na’vi-sized exo-masks hang, right next to the airgate.

"Get your mask," you murmur softly, still combing your fingers through his hair. "I know the air here won’t hurt you right away, but you’ll need it."

Neteyam huffs softly, tilting his head to look up at you. "I don’t need it." But looking in your eyes he hums against but doesn’t move immediately. Instead, he nuzzles into your touch just a second longer before finally shifting, his golden eyes meeting yours with something unreadable in them.

Then, with a quiet exhale, he pulls himself up. His movements are slow, unhurried, like he’s reluctant to leave the warmth of your touch, but he eventually stands to his full height, stretching slightly before making his way toward the airgate.

You watch him carefully, your heart squeezing at the way his shoulders sag just slightly, the way his tail flicks in subdued exhaustion. Even in the dim artificial light of the lab, he still looks tired.

Not just physically. But in the way that makes your chest ache. You don’t know what happened today—he hasn’t told you yet. But you’ll wait. You’ll always wait for him.

Neteyam adjusts the exo-mask on shoulder as he walks back to you, his steps slow but sure. His golden eyes soften slightly when he sees you already on your feet, waiting for him. Before he can say anything, you grin, tilting your head playfully. "Come with me. I will show you my palace."

His ears flick in amusement at your teasing tone, but he follows without hesitation as you lead him toward your quarters. The outpost halls are dimly lit at this hour, the hum of machinery the only sound aside from your soft footsteps. Neteyam moves silently behind you, his presence warm and grounding. When you finally reach your door, your fingers hesitate for just a second before you press the keypad to unlock it.

As the door slides open, a sudden, unexpected nervousness creeps in. You step inside and glance over your shoulder at him. "I just realized… you’ve never seen my room before."

Neteyam ducks his head slightly as he steps through the doorway, his massive frame nearly filling the entrance. He straightens once inside, his golden eyes slowly taking in the space. "I know it’s nothing like the kelkus in the village," you murmur, watching him carefully. "But it’s mine."

Your quarters are spacious by human standards, but with Neteyam standing in the middle of the room, he looks comically large. The ceiling is high enough that he doesn’t have to crouch, but the furniture, the layout—everything is clearly designed for someone much smaller.

His gaze drifts around the room, lingering on the shelves lined with books, the soft glow of a lamp casting warm light over your desk, the small personal touches that make this space yours. But when his eyes land on your bed—neat, a bit small by comparison—he glances back at you, a silent question clear in his expression.

How could I fit there?

You see the thought forming before he can voice it, and before he can ask, you answer with a grin. "I’ll make a bed on the floor. So we can sleep together."

Neteyam’s brow furrows instantly. "No. You should sleep in your bed. It is soft. I will be fine on the floor."

Your expression shifts, a knowing look crossing your face as you cross your arms. Neteyam doesn’t even need to hear your reply—he can already see the stubborn determination written all over you.

He sighs. "You are not going to let me win this, are you?"

You shake your head, smirking. "Not a chance."

Neteyam exhales through his nose, a defeated but fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Eywa, he thinks, how did I ever stand a chance against you?

Neteyam watches in quiet amusement as you move around your room, gathering blankets and pillows with an easy familiarity. There’s a softness in your movements, a quiet care as you arrange everything on the already carpeted floor, making it feel like a proper sleeping space instead of just cold metal. He notices the small details—the way you fluff the pillows just a little extra, the way your fingers smooth over the fabric like you’re making sure everything is perfect.

The sight warms something deep inside him. When you finish, you step back, surveying your work with a pleased smile. Then you turn to him, your tiny form sitting cross-legged on the makeshift bed as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

"Now it’s ready." Your grin is radiant. You pat the thick blanket beside you, your eyes twinkling with invitation. "Come here, love."

Neteyam doesn’t hesitate.

He lowers himself onto the blankets, folding his massive frame beside you with surprising grace. The moment he’s close enough, you curl into him, tucking yourself against his chest. His arms wrap around you instinctively, his body relaxing for the first time since he left the village. The steady, comforting weight of you against him is grounding, and he lets out a quiet, contented breath.

For a while, you both just exist like this—wrapped up in each other, warm and safe. He can feel your breathing, the subtle rise and fall of your chest, the gentle way your fingers trace idle patterns against his side.

But then—you start to squirm.

Neteyam hums in mild protest, tightening his arms around you. "Where do you think you’re going?"

You laugh, wiggling against his grip until you manage to slip free. "I need to take a bath."

Neteyam raises a brow, his tail flicking lazily behind him. "Now?"

"Yes, now," you insist, pushing yourself up. "I stink."

He tilts his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "I don’t mind."

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder playfully. "Well, I do. But I’ll be quick."

Before he can argue further, you’re already on your feet, bolting toward the door on the other side of the room. Neteyam huffs a quiet chuckle, watching you disappear behind it. His golden eyes linger on the closed door for a moment before he shifts onto his back, staring at the ceiling with a soft sigh.

He hadn’t realized how much he needed this—how much he needed you.

Neteyam sits cross-legged on the floor, his sharp eyes quietly scanning your room as he waits for you to return. The unfamiliar space feels strange yet oddly comforting, filled with little details that are so you.

His gaze drifts to your bed first. It’s small, the mattress raised off the ground on some kind of human-made frame. A few soft-looking things rest against one side—round and colorful, with stitched-on smiles. He tilts his head slightly, curious. What are those? Some kind of sleeping companion? He huffs a quiet chuckle at the thought. Humans always have strange customs.

Shifting his attention, his eyes find the opposite side of the room. Your desk. It’s massive compared to the rest of the space, almost chaotic with how many books and small trinkets clutter the surface. The shelves above it are no different, stacked with even more books, old notebooks, and glass vials filled with preserved plant samples.

And then—his eyes catch something else.

A wall of photos.

He leans forward slightly, studying them. There are a few with your colleagues, arms thrown around each other, grinning at the camera. You look happy in them. Carefree. His lips twitch into a small smile at the sight. But then—his gaze lands on an older photo. A much younger version of you stares back at him, standing next to a smaller boy. He is grinning wildly, one arm slung around your shoulders as if the two of you were inseparable.

Neteyam’s chest tightens.

He remembers this boy.

Your little brother. The one who died along with your parents when they were in a car. You never speak about them—not in detail. He knows it still hurts. Knows it’s a wound that never fully healed.

For a moment, all he can do is stare at the picture, taking in the way your younger self leans into your brother, how effortlessly happy you both look. He wonders if you still dream about them. If their voices still echo in your mind when you’re alone. If the weight of their absence lingers in your heart the same way his own burdens weigh on his shoulders.

A quiet sigh escapes him as he forces his gaze away. That’s when he spots it. An old, worn sketchbook tucked among your things. Recognition sparks in him instantly. He knows this book. Three years ago, when you first started visiting the village after your arrival, it was always in your hands. You carried it with you everywhere, constantly flipping it open to sketch the world around you.

He reaches out, careful as he lifts it from its resting place. The cover is slightly frayed from years of use, the edges soft and worn beneath his fingertips. Gently, he opens it.

The first few pages are filled with detailed sketches of atokirina, the small, luminescent woodsprites sacred to the People. He remembers when you showed him one of these drawings, excitement shining in your eyes as you described how you had seen one deep in the forest.

The next pages are filled with plants—Pandoran flora drawn with such careful precision that it’s almost startling. Then, animals. Creatures from the forest and sky, all captured with an artist’s touch, their movements frozen in ink and graphite. As he flips through, a strange warmth spreads through his chest. You were always watching. Always observing. Always admiring everything around you.

Then—near the end of the book—he finds something that makes him still.

A drawing of him.

It’s different from the others. More detailed, more intentional. While the other sketches feel like quick studies, like you were capturing fleeting moments, this one is deliberate. Precise. Every line, every shade of graphite etched with careful attention.

His breath catches slightly.

This is not something you drew in passing.

This is something you studied. Something you spent time on. His younger self stares up at him from the page—strong and proud, his braids falling over his shoulders, his expression thoughtful yet serious. He looks… regal. Almost noble. And suddenly, he realizes—this sketch must be years old. You haven’t carried this book in a long time.

Which means… You were drawing him before you were together. Before you were anything more than acquaintances.

Something warm, something deep and overwhelming unfurls in his chest. How long, ma’tanhi? How long have you seen me like this? His fingers brush over the page, lingering on the details of his face—the curve of his jaw, the careful strokes that form his braids. A small, almost disbelieving smile ghosts over his lips.

He thought he was the one who watched you. Who admired you from afar, who secretly memorized your every movement, your every smile.

But you had been watching him too. And you had been seeing him long before he ever realized it.

Neteyam quickly shuts the sketchbook, hurriedly placing it back where he found it as the sound of the water shutting off reaches his ears. His heart pounds for an entirely different reason now, the warmth in his chest still lingering from what he found inside the old pages.

Just as he settles back, pretending to be focused on something else, the bathroom door creaks open.

He looks up—And immediately forgets how to breathe.

You step out, steam curling around you like a veil, your hair piled into a messy bun on top of your head. Your skin glistens slightly, still damp from the bath, and the only thing covering you is a single, small towel wrapped around your body.

Neteyam’s ears flick back as heat floods his entire face, his blush darkening to a deep shade of purple. His eyes flicker away for a moment, then back—just for a second—before he quickly looks elsewhere, his jaw tightening as he struggles to keep his composure.

You notice instantly. A slow, teasing smile tugs at your lips as you saunter forward, your bare feet padding softly against the floor. His ears twitch again, his tail curling slightly behind him, and you bite back a laugh at how utterly caught he looks.

The mighty warrior, completely undone by you. When you reach him, you lean down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. He stiffens slightly, caught between wanting to touch you and keeping his hands firmly in his lap.

Then—your voice, soft and playful against his lips.

"Do you like me?" A simple question. Innocent, yet filled with mischief.

Neteyam exhales sharply through his nose, his golden eyes half-lidded as he fights the urge to drag you onto his lap, towel be damned. His hands clench against his thighs, his self-control hanging by a thread.

"You know I do," he murmurs, his voice lower than intended, rough with restraint.

Your smile widens slightly. "Are you sure? Because you look like you’re in pain, love."

He groans softly, his head tilting back slightly as he closes his eyes, as if pleading to Eywa for patience. "You are testing me, tanhì."

You hum, feigning innocence as your fingers gently trace over his jawline. "Maybe just a little."

You smile at him, your fingers tracing softly along the edge of his jaw before your gaze flickers downward. His fists are clenched tightly on the thick blanket beneath them, his knuckles taut with restraint.

"You know you can touch me," you whisper, your voice gentle, coaxing.

Neteyam swallows hard, his golden eyes flickering up to yours, something raw and vulnerable swirling in their depths. But still, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach for you. His body is tense, as if he's afraid that if he does, he won’t be able to stop.

You lean in, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead, the warmth of your lips melting against his cool skin. "I love you so much," you whisper, your breath brushing over his temple as your small hands slide up his arms, tracing the firm muscles before wrapping around his head, holding him close.

The moment you do, Neteyam exhales, his body shuddering as his forehead comes to rest against your collarbone.

Your scent surrounds him—warm, clean, familiar. The lingering freshness of soap clings to your damp skin, mingling with the natural scent of you. He inhales deeply, breathing you in, his arms finally loosening at his sides.

But the storm in his mind doesn’t quiet.

His thoughts are a tangled mess, everything from his argument with his father to the moment he stepped into your room swirling chaotically in his head. It’s too much, too fast. He doesn’t even know what he��s thinking, only that he feels—everything.

The weight of his father’s disappointment. The frustration, the anger, the exhaustion. But also you. The comfort of your presence. The way your hands move over him, slow and deliberate, smoothing over the tension in his shoulders.

"How can I ease your mind?" you whisper, your fingers still combing through his braids, your voice soft and patient.

Neteyam’s lips part, his breath stalling in his throat.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what will quiet the storm, what will stop the twisting in his chest. He doesn’t even know why he feels the way he does.

And so, without thinking, without meaning to—he asks the first thing that comes to his mind.

"What is cat?"

The words slip from his mouth before he can stop them, and the moment they do, he stills.

You blink.

"What?"

"What is a cat?" he repeats, this time with more hesitation, realizing how nonsensical the question is in the middle of all this.

For a second, there is only silence. And then—A small giggle. His ears flick up, confused, until he feels the way your body shakes slightly against his.

"Oh my god," you mumble, your voice filled with amusement as you press your lips together, clearly trying to hold back laughter. "You're talking about last night, aren’t you?"

Neteyam frowns, confused. "Last night?"

"Yes," you snicker. "After sex, when I said you were like a big cat because you were purring."

His ears flatten slightly in embarrassment. "I do not purr."

You lose it. A loud laugh bursts from your lips, full and unrestrained, and Neteyam immediately huffs in protest, his tail flicking in irritation. "Oh, you definitely do," you tease, grinning as you pull back just enough to look into his eyes. "It was the cutest thing. I’ve never heard a Na’vi purr like that."

Neteyam groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, as if that will somehow protect him from your teasing. "You are impossible."

"And you are adorable."

He growls softly, nipping lightly at the skin of your shoulder in retaliation, but his lips curl into the smallest, most reluctant smile against your skin. For a moment, just a moment, the weight on his shoulders feels a little lighter.

Neteyam watches as you step away, walking toward the tall shelf across the room. His ears flick forward, tracking your movements, but when you rise onto your tiptoes, reaching for something on the highest shelf—

Eywa help him.

The towel around your damp body shifts, riding up just enough to reveal the soft curve of your bottom. His jaw tightens, his fingers clenching into fists on the blanket beneath him as he forces himself to look away. But he can’t.

His golden eyes remain locked onto you, his breath catching in his throat, and he has to bite back a groan at the sight. He is already struggling to keep his hands to himself, already battling the fire still lingering from the night before, and now—this? This?

"This is cruel," he mutters under his breath.

You finally grab what you’re looking for, a large, heavy book, and turn back toward him. He forces his gaze up—higher—meeting your eyes just as you grin mischievously. "This," you announce, "is an encyclopedia about Earth’s flora, fauna, and every other thing you could possibly imagine." You saunter back toward him, entirely unaware of how close he is to losing his mind, and sit down next to him on the floor, the weight of the book settling between you.

Neteyam exhales, steadying himself.

"And now," you continue, flipping through the thick pages, "I can show you what a cat is… if you’re brave enough."

That smirk. That wicked, teasing little smirk you give him—

Neteyam lets out a low, resigned sigh, his head tilting back slightly. "You are going to be the death of me, yawne."

You giggle, nudging his thigh with your knee. "Oh, hush. Come on, let's find the cat."

Neteyam huffs, his tail flicking behind him as he leans in, peering down at the book, though in truth, he’s only half paying attention. Because you are sitting so close, your bare skin brushing against his, your scent still fresh and warm from your bath, and he’s painfully, painfully aware that you are only wearing that tiny towel.

And worse? You know exactly what you're doing to him.

Neteyam watches as you flip through the thick pages, his tail flicking idly behind him. His curiosity is piqued, though he’s still acutely aware of the fact that you’re sitting so close—your bare skin brushing against his every time you shift.

"Why do you have a book like this?" he asks, his voice low, his gaze flickering between the pages and your face.

You shrug, not looking up as you turn another page. "I like to read it. And look at the pictures."

He hums in acknowledgment, glancing at the detailed images of creatures from a world he has never seen. His fingers twitch slightly, resisting the urge to trace the illustrations of massive forests, sprawling plains, and strange animals with thick fur and small eyes.

Then, your voice softens. "But most of the animals you’ll see in this book are already extinct."

Neteyam frowns, glancing at you. Your expression has changed—your playful smirk replaced with something sadder, something distant. "Extinct?" he echoes, brow furrowing.

You nod slowly, flipping through the pages with a bit more care now. "Gone. Wiped out. Either because of us—humans—or because their world changed too much for them to survive."

Neteyam watches the way your fingers linger on a page depicting a large beast with curved tusks and thick fur, standing in a frozen landscape. His ears twitch slightly at the way your shoulders sag just a little. "I am sorry," he murmurs, his voice gentle.

You give him a small, sad smile, shaking your head. "It's just... strange, you know? Growing up learning about all these animals, seeing their pictures in books and old holovideos, knowing I’ll never actually see one alive."

Neteyam stays quiet, absorbing your words. He knows what it means to lose something—someone. He knows what it means to be unable to go back. After a moment, you shake yourself out of your thoughts and brighten up again, turning to him with a small grin. "Some Pandora animals actually have Earth siblings, you know."

He raises a brow, intrigued. "Siblings?"

"Not real siblings, but they look alike," you explain, flipping through the pages again. "Like, the pa’li—they look a lot like horses from Earth. Same long legs, strong bodies, and fast runners. See?"

You stop on a page with an image of a sleek, four-legged creature with a flowing mane, standing tall in a vast field.

Neteyam tilts his head. "It does look like a pa’li."

You smile. "And then there were creatures like the Great Leonopteryx—on Earth, millions of years ago, we had things called pterosaurs. They weren’t exactly the same, but they were big, flying reptiles with wings."

Neteyam hums, genuinely intrigued now as you continue flipping through the pages, showing him different creatures that once roamed your world. Some are similar to Pandora’s animals, others unlike anything he has ever seen before.

"And now…" You turn a few more pages before stopping on a particular image, your eyes lighting up mischievously. "Here is your namesake, mighty warrior."

Neteyam leans forward to look— And immediately pulls back, blinking in disbelief. "What—" he scowls slightly, pointing at the small, fluffy creature on the page. "This? This is a cat?"

You burst into laughter at his reaction, clutching your stomach as you lean into his side. "Yes! That is a house cat!"

He stares at the picture, utterly baffled. The creature is tiny—soft-looking, with large round eyes and a short snout. Its ears are pointed, and it has a long, thin tail that curls at the end. "This little thing?" Neteyam gestures at the image, then back at himself. "You compared me to this?"

You are cackling now, shaking your head as you wipe at your eyes. "Well, not exactly this one—there were bigger kinds too! But, I mean, listen—cats purr, they’re sleek, they’re graceful hunters, and they can be moody as hell." You give him a pointed look. "Remind you of anyone?"

Neteyam’s ears flatten as he narrows his eyes at you. "I do not mope like a small, fluffy creature."

You grin, poking his chest. "You totally do."

He huffs, crossing his arms. "I am nothing like this ‘cat’ thing."

You sigh dramatically, resting your chin on his shoulder. "You say that, but you’re literally purring right now."

Neteyam stiffens.

His ears twitch.

His tail flicks behind him.

And then—

He realizes.

The soft, low rumbling in his chest. Just because of your closeness.

He is purring.

Your delighted laughter echoes through the room as Neteyam groans, covering his face with one large hand. You nudge him playfully, your grin wide and victorious. "Face it, my love. You’re a big, sexy cat."

Neteyam sighs heavily, shaking his head—but despite himself, he can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. "You are insufferable, tawtute," he murmurs, his golden eyes shining with amusement.

You beam up at him, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his cheek. "But you love me."

And Eywa help him—He does.

Neteyam watches as you turn the pages with practiced ease, finally stopping on another image. You shift the book toward him, tapping a slender finger against the page. "This is a tiger," you say with a knowing smile. "A bigger kind of cat. See? Even the stripes are identical."

His golden eyes drop to the image. The creature is undeniably powerful. Large, muscular, its body covered in sleek orange fur with bold black stripes running along its frame. Its head is broad, ears slightly rounded, and its gaze—though frozen in the picture—is sharp, intense.

Neteyam glances down at himself, at the deep blue stripes running along his own body. Then back at the image of the tiger. A slow exhale leaves him. "This one… I do not mind."

You let out a triumphant laugh. "I knew it! You are a big cat."

Neteyam huffs, shaking his head, but there’s amusement in his expression. He studies the tiger for a moment longer before looking back at you. "And this creature… was it a great hunter?" he asks, curiosity slipping into his voice.

You nod, excitement flickering in your eyes. "Oh, absolutely. Tigers were apex predators—meaning nothing hunted them. They were strong, fast, and incredibly smart. They could take down prey much bigger than them and were known to be patient hunters, stalking for the perfect moment to strike."

Neteyam tilts his head slightly, intrigued. The more you speak, the more he finds himself admiring this Earth creature.

"They were also solitary," you continue, your fingers tracing over the tiger’s image. "Unlike lions, which lived in groups, tigers preferred to roam and hunt alone. They were independent, proud, and deeply territorial."

Neteyam hums, his ears twitching slightly. "So… strong, intelligent, skilled hunter… and prefers solitude." He casts you a sly glance. "Now this, I can accept."

You grin, leaning in close, your chin resting against his shoulder. "See? I wasn’t wrong."

He chuckles, the low sound vibrating against your skin. "Perhaps not, yawne."

Your fingers reach up, brushing idly over the stripes on his bicep. "And tigers were beautiful," you murmur. "Just like you."

Neteyam’s chest tightens, warmth blooming in his core at your soft, genuine words. He turns his head slightly, looking down at you, his golden gaze warm and filled with something deeper—something reverent. "I only care to be beautiful in your eyes," he murmurs, his voice softer now, more intimate.

You smile, your lips brushing against his skin as you whisper, "Then you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Neteyam exhales slowly, his heart thudding steadily beneath his ribs. And, as he watches you grin up at him, eyes bright with affection, he decides—

If being your big cat means he gets to hear you say things like that… He can live with it.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as Neteyam suddenly scoops you up, lifting you with effortless ease. "Neteyam—!" you squeak in surprise, but the sound is swallowed by a breathy laugh as he settles you onto his lap.

His long legs remain crossed as he pulls you flush against his chest, his massive arms wrapping around you securely. The heat of his skin seeps through the damp towel still wrapped around you, and you melt into his embrace, instinctively tucking yourself closer.

"You like to talk," he murmurs against your temple, his lips brushing against your skin. "And I like to listen. But I want you here while you do it."

A warmth spreads through your chest at his words, and you sigh, relaxing into him. You shift slightly, adjusting the book still in your hands, before grinning. "Alright, mighty warrior," you tease. "Then let’s see how much you can handle."

Neteyam huffs a quiet chuckle. "I have faced palulukan and nantang in the forest. I think I can handle a few Earth creatures."

You smirk, flipping the page. "We’ll see about that."

Your finger trails down to an image of a large, grey, wrinkled-looking creature with massive ears and long, curved tusks. "This is an elephant," you say, tapping the picture. "One of the largest land animals that ever lived on Earth. They were gentle but incredibly strong. They lived in herds and had deep family bonds. They were also really intelligent—able to remember things for years and even grieve their dead."

Neteyam hums, golden eyes studying the creature. "It is… strange-looking," he admits, tilting his head. "But wise. Like the angtsìk of Pandora."

You nod. "Exactly! The angtsìk are kind of like elephants, but with more legs and, you know, the whole six-eyes thing."

He smirks at your casual tone, watching as you eagerly flip to another page. "And this," you continue, "is a wolf. They hunted in packs, much like your nantang. They were incredibly loyal to their groups, working together to take down prey. But they were also affectionate, forming deep bonds with their families. Some were even domesticated by humans, evolving into dogs."

"Dogs?" Neteyam echoes, frowning slightly.

You laugh, flipping to another page with an image of a fluffy-looking canine. "Yeah. They became one of our best companions. Humans and dogs formed bonds so strong that they were considered family. Some were trained to help with hunting, others to protect. But mostly, they were just… loved."

Neteyam’s ears flick, considering this. "Strange… that a predator could become a companion."

You shrug, smiling. "Not so strange. You’re a predator, and I love you."

His breath catches slightly, and you glance up at him, smirking.

"See?" you tease. "Not so different."

Neteyam exhales through his nose, shaking his head in amusement. "You twist words too easily, yawntu."

"It’s a gift."

He chuckles, pressing a kiss against your damp hair before nodding toward the book. "Show me another."

You flip through the pages, continuing to tell him about creatures long gone, their stories preserved only in ink and memory. And as Neteyam listens—his arms holding you close, his deep voice rumbling with thoughtful questions—he realizes he could stay like this forever. Just you, your voice, and the warmth of your body against his.

Your voice is soft as you continue flipping through the pages, reading aloud about the animals that once roamed your home planet. Neteyam hums in response, his deep, steady breathing warm against your skin as he listens, his arms still wrapped securely around you.

But then—he shifts.

You barely notice at first, too focused on the book in your lap, but the way his hold on you tightens ever so slightly makes something stir in your stomach. His lips brush against your bare shoulder—just a whisper of a touch—but enough to make you falter for a split second.

You clear your throat, pretending to ignore it. "And this," you murmur, tapping another picture, "is a red panda. They were small, mostly found in trees, and—ah!"

A soft nip lands at the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Neteyam—" you huff, tilting your head slightly to look at him, but he’s already smirking, his golden eyes gleaming mischievously.

"Pay me no mind," he murmurs against your skin, lips grazing your shoulder again. "I am simply listening."

You narrow your eyes at him but choose to let it slide. With a small huff, you turn back to the book, flipping to another page. "Fine. Here—foxes. Now, these little guys were known for their cunning and intelligence—"

Another kiss. This time at the base of your neck. You inhale sharply, fingers tightening slightly on the book. "—for being clever and tricky. They were smaller than most predators but used their wits to survive—"

His nose nuzzles into your hair, his lips grazing just below your ear. "Neteyam," you warn, but your voice wavers slightly, betraying you.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a thrill through you. "Go on, syulang. I am listening."

You exhale, pressing forward, determined to get through this. "Always causing trouble," you continue, voice a bit breathless. "Always outsmarting those bigger than them. And very, very beautiful."

Neteyam hums approvingly, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before whispering against your skin, "Then it is like you."

You blink. "What?"

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression warm and full of teasing affection. "The fox," he repeats. "Cunning, clever, small. Always causing trouble. Always outsmarting those bigger than them. And very, very beautiful."

Your breath catches, warmth blooming in your chest at his words. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. And Neteyam—satisfied with the way you suddenly look so flustered—grins, tightening his arms around you as he presses another slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek.

"What is it, syulang?" he teases, voice thick with amusement. "Did I render you speechless?"

You huff, rolling your eyes, but the smile on your lips betrays you. "Shut up."

Neteyam chuckles, resting his chin on your shoulder. "As you wish," he murmurs.

But the way his fingers slowly trace circles against your hip tells you that he’s far from finished.

Neteyam smirks faintly every time your voice falters—every time his lips find the right spot on your skin, making you pause mid-sentence. He enjoys how easily he can alter your thoughts, how just a few well-placed kisses are enough to make you forget the words you were reading aloud.

But what amuses him even more is that you have the same effect on him.

Your weight in his lap, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the soft rise and fall of your breath—it’s enough to pull him from the turmoil in his mind, grounding him in the present. The tension from earlier in the day, all fades into the background as you continue speaking, flipping through the pages of the book.

And yet—his thoughts begin to shift. He feels the way your thighs press against his, the way your damp towel clings loosely to your now dry skin, teasing him with glimpses of the softness beneath. His gaze flickers down, watching the delicate curve of your collarbone, the damp tendrils of hair clinging to the nape of your neck.

You wouldn’t say anything, but he knows you feel it—feels the way your breath hitches slightly, the way you shift just a little when you notice how hard he’s growing beneath you. Neteyam exhales slowly, his hands resting on your waist before sliding beneath the towel, his fingertips brushing over the soft skin of your stomach. You gasp softly, your fingers gripping the book a little tighter, but you don’t stop him.

Encouraged, his hand moves higher, his large palm spreading over your ribs before cupping your breast fully, his fingers flexing gently against the soft swell. And just like that—you go completely silent.

The book in your hands trembles slightly as your back instinctively presses against his chest, your body molding into him, as if surrendering to the slow, deliberate way he’s touching you. Neteyam hums in quiet satisfaction, his lips ghosting over your temple. "You were saying?" he murmurs, his voice deep, teasing.

But you don’t answer. And from the way his smirk deepens against your skin, you know he’s very, very pleased with that.

Neteyam tilts his head down, brushing his lips over the side of your neck, slow and deliberate. The warmth of his breath fans against your skin, and he’s pleased when you instinctively tilt your head, exposing more of your throat to him—silent permission, an unspoken invitation.

His lips press against your pulse, then lower, trailing slow, lazy kisses along the curve of your neck. He savors the way your body shivers slightly against him, the way your breath comes just a little faster. His fingers flex against your breast, his thumb dragging in slow, teasing circles over your already-hard nipple.

You bite your lip, looking away, your fingers curling slightly against the pages of your book. "It’s sensitive," you mumble quietly, your voice barely above a breath.

Neteyam hums in amusement, his lips curving into a small smirk against your skin. "Sensitive?" he repeats, his deep voice vibrating against your throat. His thumb brushes over the peak again, slower this time, just to see how you react.

You inhale sharply, your body twitching slightly in his lap, but you don’t stop him. "Hmm," he muses, kissing just below your ear, his voice filled with faux thoughtfulness. "You say that… but you’re not stopping me."

You let out a small, frustrated sound, squirming in his hold, but he only tightens his arm around your waist, keeping you still. "Neteyam," you sigh, half a plea, half a warning.

He chuckles against your skin, his nose nuzzling the spot just below your jaw. "What, sevin?" Beautiful. "Am I distracting you?"

You exhale sharply, rolling your eyes. "Obviously."

His thumb flicks over your nipple again, just to hear the small, unintentional gasp you let out. "You were telling me about these… foxes," he says, his voice dripping with amusement. "But now you’ve fallen awfully quiet, little one."

You swallow, trying to regain some sense of composure. "Maybe if a certain someone wasn’t touching me like this, I could actually finish my sentence."

Neteyam only hums in response, entirely unbothered, his thumb continuing its slow, teasing strokes. "Do you want me to stop?"

You hesitate. And he lives for that hesitation. "That’s what I thought," he chuckles, pressing another slow kiss to your shoulder, enjoying the way your body melts against his.

The book snaps shut so suddenly that Neteyam barely has time to react before you toss it onto the bed. Before he can ask what you're doing, you're already moving—turning in his lap, shifting until you're straddling his thick thighs. The towel that had barely clung to your body in the first place slips away completely, pooling onto the floor, leaving you bare before him.

Neteyam barely breathes.

Your warm, soft skin presses against his, your smaller frame fitting so perfectly against his massive form. His hands instinctively move to your waist, fingers tightening as if he needs to hold you there, needs to ground himself.

And then—you kiss him.

Hard.

A desperate, heated press of your lips against his, all urgency, all need. His breath stutters as he responds immediately, his large hands sliding down your back, gripping your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. Your lips move together in a hungry dance, your fingers tangling into his braids, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth.

"I fucking missed you," you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and uneven. "Since you brought me back to the outpost, I haven't stopped thinking about you."

Neteyam exhales sharply, his golden eyes darkening as he grips you tighter. "I know, sevin," he murmurs, his voice rough, strained. "I missed you, too."

Your hands slide over his broad chest, feeling the way his heart pounds beneath your fingertips. You trail your lips down the sharp line of his jaw, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to his skin. Tiny bites follow each kiss, your blunt teeth scraping against the sensitive spots you know drive him crazy.

Neteyam growls low in his throat, his grip tightening on your waist. And then—you grind against him.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Your bare, dripping heat presses against the hardness beneath his loincloth, and a sharp, strangled sound rumbles from his chest. His ears flatten against his skull, his jaw clenching as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. "Tanhi," he exhales, his voice wrecked, strained with need.

Your lips curve into a smirk against his neck. "Yes, ma'Neteyam?" you purr, rolling your hips again, feeling the way his body tenses beneath you.

His control hangs by a thread. And you—his clever, beautiful, deadly little human—are about to snap it.

Neteyam exhales sharply through his nose, his grip on your waist tightening for a fleeting moment before he forces himself to loosen it. You're so soft against him, your warm, bare skin pressing against his in a way that should be comforting—is comforting—but his mind is still tangled in the remnants of the day.

Your nails graze over his shoulders, tracing along the strong muscles that are still taut with tension. "I want to help, love," you murmur, your voice soft, barely above a whisper. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, breathing him in like his scent alone can soothe you.

Neteyam shudders. "You’re so tense," you continue, pressing a gentle kiss to his throat. "Ever since you walked in. You still didn’t tell me what happened. I don’t like it when you are so burdened." Your small fingers find his forehead, tracing over the deep-set furrow there, smoothing over his frown like you can erase the weight he carries with a touch alone. And Eywa, he wishes you could.

"Let me make you feel good," you whisper, tilting your head to press another soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his lips.

Neteyam swallows hard. His chest rises and falls in a slow, measured breath, but the heat of you—your scent, your warmth, the way your body molds so perfectly to his—it’s unraveling him piece by piece. His hands slide up your back, his fingertips dragging lazily over your spine, feeling the way you shiver beneath his touch. His voice is deep, strained when he finally speaks. "You already do," he murmurs. "Always."

But you’re not satisfied with that answer. You shift in his lap, rolling your hips with purpose, making a quiet, breathy sound when his hardness presses right against your soaked folds. Your nails dig in slightly against his shoulders, your lips brushing against his in a barely-there kiss.

"Then let me show you," you whisper.

Neteyam lets out a deep chuckle, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he watches you fumble with the knots of his loincloth. Your fingers, so small compared to his, tug at the fabric in frustration, your brows furrowing in concentration.

"Need some help, syulang?" he teases, his voice rich and warm, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You huff, shooting him a playful glare before nodding begrudgingly. "It’s not fair," you say with a pout, your fingers pausing as you let him take over. "Yours are always tied so damn tight."

Neteyam laughs, shaking his head before effortlessly loosening the knots with a few deft movements. You barely have time to react before his loincloth is discarded behind you, his hardened length finally freed. Your breath catches slightly as you glance down, and Neteyam catches it instantly. His smirk grows.

"What?” he murmurs, tilting his head, his ears flicking forward in interest. "Intimidated, yawne?" You scoff, rolling your eyes before shifting forward, letting your slick folds drag along his length in a slow, teasing grind. Neteyam groans, his hands tightening on your hips, fingers pressing into your soft skin as he watches you with dark, hooded eyes. "Eywa..." he breathes, his voice rough, strained.

You bite your lip, smirking as you press a slow kiss to his lips. "You’re so big," you murmur against his mouth, your breath warm, teasing.

Neteyam’s grip flexes, his tail curling behind him, the restraint in his body evident. His golden eyes burn as they flicker between your face and where your bodies are pressed together. "And yet," he growls, his voice low and full of challenge, "you take me so well, yawne."

A shiver ripples through you at his words, your fingers sliding up his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. "Then let me take you again," you whisper, your lips ghosting over his, your voice filled with nothing but hunger.

Neteyam groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he feels the desperate roll of your movements against him. Your slick folds glide along his hard length, coating him with your arousal, the friction making his breath hitch. "Please let me..." you practically purr, your voice dripping with need as you slowly reach down, your delicate fingers wrapping around his thick length.

His breath stutters as you lift yourself slightly, guiding him toward your entrance. His ears flick back, a flash of concern flickering across his face. "Syulang," he murmurs, his large hands bracing your waist, holding you still. "You’re still sore from this morning. If you go too fast—"

You silence him with a deep, lingering kiss, your lips soft but insistent against his. He melts into it instantly, groaning as your fingers tighten around him, lining him up with your dripping entrance.

And then, slowly, you sink down. Neteyam grits his teeth, his whole body tensing as you take him inch by inch, your warm, tight walls stretching around him once more. A strangled moan escapes your lips as your head falls forward, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

You’re still so sensitive—still raw from his love earlier—but you don’t stop. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you push past the lingering ache, determined to take all of him. You bite your lower lip, your brows furrowing as you adjust, as you stretch wide to accommodate his size.

Neteyam curses under his breath, his fingers flexing against your waist as he watches you, utterly transfixed. The sight of you—your face flushed, your lips parted, your body trembling as you take him so deeply—nearly undoes him.

"Ma’tanhi..." he breathes, voice rough with restraint, his ears pressing flat against his head. "You are—"

"Perfect," you whisper, finishing his sentence with a small, breathless smile. And then, you rock your hips.

Neteyam lets out a strangled whimper as your hips roll over him, the slow, torturous drag of your tight heat around him making his head spin. His grip on your waist tightens, blunt nails pressing into your soft skin as if trying to ground himself, to hold back the instinct to thrust up into you.

His golden eyes flicker toward the door for just a second, concern flashing across his face.

You notice. A small, knowing smile tugs at your lips as you lean in, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your movements don’t stop—your hips continue their slow, teasing grind against him, the delicious friction sending shivers down both of your spines. "Every room is soundproof," you whisper, your breath warm against his lips.

Neteyam groans, his whole body shuddering at your words. His restraint is already hanging by a thread, and the knowledge that no one will hear—that he can finally let go, fully and completely—makes something inside him snap. His hips twitch up involuntarily, sinking deeper into you. You moan—loudly.

The sound echoes in the small room, unfiltered, raw, and it sends a sharp wave of heat through both of you. Your eyes widen as a deep flush spreads across your cheeks. "Oh, fuck—"

Neteyam exhales sharply through his nose, his ears twitching, his expression darkening with pure need. His hands slide up your back, gripping you tighter, keeping you close as he leans in, his voice a low, rough murmur against your ear. "Again," he growls. And then, he thrusts up into you.

Your whole body trembles as you take every inch of him, your moans turning into desperate, broken cries with each deep, punishing thrust. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, your nails dragging across his blue skin as pleasure crashes through you in relentless waves.

"F-Fuck—Neteyam—"

He groans at the way you say his name, his ears flicking back, his golden eyes blown wide with hunger as he watches you fall apart above him.

"That’s it, yawne," he murmurs, his voice low and wrecked. "Take it. Take all of me."

His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding your movements, making sure you feel every inch of him as he fills you completely. Your body is so soft, so pliant in his hands, like you were made for him. And fuck, the way you squeeze around him—he swears he might lose his mind.

Your thighs burn from the effort of moving, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not when he’s pressing into every perfect spot inside you, dragging pleasure from you so intense it borders on unbearable.

"You feel so good, ma’syulang," he groans, his head tilting back, his grip on you tightening. "So perfect around me—"

Your whole body jolts as he angles his hips just right, and you choke on a gasp, your hands flying to his braids for something—anything—to hold onto. "Oh, fuck—!"

Neteyam smirks, the sight of you writhing, completely at his mercy, sending a deep, primal satisfaction through him. "Right there?" he teases, rolling his hips again, hitting that spot with devastating precision.

Your breath shudders, your fingers tangling in his braids as you try to ground yourself, try to hold back the release building too fast in your core. "Neteyam—too much—" you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to slow down, to edge yourself, to drag this out— But you can’t.

"Don’t fight it," he growls, his voice thick with need. "Let go for me, yawntu."

"I—I can’t—"

"You can," he insists, thrusting up into you harder, deeper, keeping you exactly where he wants you. "Come for me."

The coil inside you snaps. A sharp, broken cry tears from your lips as pleasure crashes over you, your whole body convulsing, your nails digging into his shoulders as you shatter completely.

"That’s my girl," Neteyam groans, feeling you tighten around him, your walls pulsing in the aftershocks. "So fucking beautiful when you come."

He doesn’t stop. He keeps fucking into you, chasing his own release, his movements growing rougher, more desperate as he uses your soft, trembling body to push himself over the edge.

"You can give me one more, syulang," he pants, his breath hot against your neck. "One more—just for me—"

"Nete—I—!"

But you can’t fight it. He’s too deep, too perfect, pressing into every spot that makes you fall apart, and before you can stop it— Your whole body seizes as another orgasm rips through you, white-hot and overwhelming.

"Fuck—yes," Neteyam groans, his hips stuttering as he finally lets go. He buries himself as deep as he can, pressing your hips down against him as he fills you, his release spilling inside you, hot and thick.

The sensation pushes you over the edge one last time, your body clenching around him, milking him for everything he has. Neteyam lets out a deep, shuddering moan, his grip on you unyielding as he presses his forehead to your shoulder, breathing hard. His tail curls tightly behind him, his whole body still trembling from the force of it.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breaths, your body still wrapped around him, completely spent.

Then— A breathless laugh tumbles from your lips as you slump forward against him, pressing your forehead to his.

"You—" you gasp, still trying to catch your breath.

Neteyam chuckles, still trying to steady himself. "You’re the one who climbed into my lap, yawne."

You roll your eyes, your fingers lazily tracing over his damp skin. "You were brooding. I had to fix that."

Neteyam hums, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. "And you did," he murmurs, his voice softer now, full of something deep, something endless.

You smile against his lips, nuzzling your nose against his. "Good."

Neteyam leans back against the edge of your bed, his broad shoulders resting against the frame, his arms still wrapped securely around you. You’re draped over him, completely boneless, your cheek pressed against the warm skin of his chest. He’s still buried deep inside you, not moving, but still throbbing with each slow beat of his heart. The heat between you is sticky, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath of pleasure.

You murmur something against his skin, but it’s too soft for him to catch.

Neteyam hums, running a hand lazily down your spine. "What was that, yawntu?"

You exhale, nuzzling against him, too content to move. "I said…I feel so blessed."

He stills for a second, his arms tightening around you slightly before he lets out a deep, satisfied chuckle. "As you should, my love."

You roll your eyes, but the lazy smile on your lips betrays you. "I meant blessed to have you, skxawng."

"Mmm." He nuzzles his nose against your hair, inhaling your scent, still thick with sweat and sex. "I think I am the blessed one."

You hum softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns over his chest. "Then we are both lucky."

Neteyam grins, tilting his head down just enough to press a kiss to your temple. "Maybe. But you seem more exhausted than I am, yawne."

You let out a breathy laugh, tilting your head up to look at him. "I think you broke me."

Neteyam smirks, his fingers sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you just a little closer against him, pressing himself even deeper inside you. "After only one round?" His voice is pure sin, deep and teasing. "Tsk, tsk. And here I thought my little human could keep up with me."

You groan, burying your face against his chest. "Fuck off, Neteyam."

"No, no." He grins, his thumb rubbing slow circles over the curve of your hip. "You started this, syulang. Now I’m just wondering… how many more rounds would it take to get me to your level of exhaustion?"

You flush hard, your fingers tightening against his skin. "You’re insatiable."

"Only for you, ma yawntu," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hairline. "Maybe I should test your limits."

Just to prove his point, he rolls his hips ever so slightly, not enough to be deep, but just enough to feel you clench around him. "Fuck—" You gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Neteyam groans at the feeling, his golden eyes darkening as he watches your reaction. "Oh?" he purrs, his smirk growing. "You liked that?"

You swallow hard, trying to keep your body from reacting, but it betrays you. You shift slightly, and the movement sends another pulse of pleasure through you, making you clamp down around him again. Neteyam hisses between his teeth. "Mmm, syulang…" His grip on you tightens, his voice thick with amusement. "You keep doing that, and I’m not going to let you rest."

"Then stop talking dirty to me," you mumble against his chest.

He chuckles, his tail flicking lazily behind him. "Oh, but I love seeing you react like this." His large hands slide down your back, kneading your soft skin. "So sensitive, so responsive. All mine."

You groan in frustration, lifting your head just enough to glare at him. "You’re the worst."

Neteyam just smirks, his golden eyes glinting mischievously. "And yet, you’re still sitting on me."

Your face burns. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t." He grins, rolling his hips again, drawing another sharp gasp from your lips. "You love me."

You squeeze your eyes shut, your nails raking lightly against his shoulders as another shiver runs through you. "Fuck—"

"Want me to prove it to you again, yawne?" His voice is pure temptation, his hands already shifting, ready to flip you onto your back.

And, Eywa help you…

Neteyam moves before you can even react. With effortless strength, he flips you onto your back, his massive frame hovering over you as your body melts into the soft blankets. Instinct takes over—you immediately try to wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

His ears flick at the movement, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. "So eager," he teases, his voice deep and husky as he settles between your thighs.

Your face burns, and you turn your head to the side, avoiding his gaze. But that only gives him the perfect opportunity to dip his head, his warm lips finding the sensitive pulse at your neck. His teeth graze your skin before he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss there, reveling in the way your breath stutters.

"Where is my reckless scientist?" Neteyam murmurs against your neck, his breath hot, teasing. "The one who talks back, who teases me without fear?"

A shiver runs down your spine as he presses another kiss lower, his hips rolling forward in the same moment. The slow, deliberate slide of him inside you makes you gasp, your fingers tightening against his shoulders.

"Mmm, there she is," he purrs, nipping at your jaw before lifting his head to look at you properly. "I thought I lost her for a second."

You bite your lip, breathless, but a small, teasing smile tugs at your lips. "She’s here, but she’s a little… preoccupied right now."

Neteyam chuckles, a deep, warm sound that vibrates against your skin. "Good."

And then—he starts to move. His hips rock against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm, savoring the way you stretch around him, the way your body welcomes him so perfectly. He grunts softly, feeling how impossibly tight you still are, and you arch against him, pressing your chest flush to his as a breathless chuckle slips past your lips. You –this little demon in human skin– was laughing.

"What’s so funny?" he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours, his golden eyes burning into yours as he keeps up his slow, devastating thrusts.

"You, my mighty warrior," you whisper, breathless. "All gruff and strong now… Where was this confidence before, hmm?"

A smirk curls on Neteyam’s lips. "What do you mean?"

You mock a pout, your fingers trailing up to tangle in his thick braids. "Where is my aloof Neteyam? The one who got all flustered when I touched his tail for the first time?"

Neteyam stills for just a fraction of a second—before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his lips.

"Oh, syulang," he purrs, his voice dropping into something dangerously low. "That Neteyam is gone." He growls playfully, his tail flicking behind him. Instead—he picks up the pace. Your teasing dies in your throat, replaced by a sharp gasp as his hips snap forward, driving into you harder, deeper. The new angle has you seeing stars, your legs tightening around him as you gasp his name.

"Ah—Neteyam—"

He grins against your cheek, pressing kisses along your jaw as he keeps up his relentless rhythm. "What was that?" he teases, his voice thick with pleasure.

You can’t answer. You can’t even think. Your body tightens around him, the pleasure hitting you too fast, too hard. "Oh, fuck—" you whimper, your nails digging into his back as your release slams into you, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through your veins.

"That’s it, yawne," Neteyam groans, feeling you tremble beneath him. "Come for me."

You do. You fall apart completely, clinging to him as pleasure wracks your body, leaving you panting and gasping against his chest. But Neteyam doesn’t stop—he’s chasing his own release now, and the way your walls flutter around him only pushes him closer to the edge.

"Fuck—so tight," he grits out, his movements growing more erratic, more desperate.

It should be too much. You should be too sensitive.

But the way he fucks you through it, the way he holds you so close, the way he fills you so completely— It’s too good. And before you can stop it, another orgasm tears through you. "Neteyam—" You barely manage to choke out his name before your body convulses again, pleasure crashing over you for the third time tonight.

"Eywa—" Neteyam curses, his entire body tensing as your walls squeeze around him. "Fuck, yawne—" He groans, burying his face against your shoulder as his hips stutter, and then—he spills inside you, his release warm and thick as he groans your name like a prayer. His arms shake as he holds himself above you, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, his heart hammering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The only sound in the room is your heavy breathing, your bodies still tangled together, still trembling from the intensity of it all.

Neteyam finally lifts his head, his golden eyes locking onto yours, still hazy with pleasure but filled with something deeper—something warm, something unspoken. He smirks, still panting as he braces himself on his elbows above you. "Three times, yawne?" he muses, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face. "I think that’s a new record."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "Oh shut up."

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. Neteyam’s smirk softens into something unbearably tender, and he leans down, kissing you slow and deep, as if sealing the words between you.

Neteyam lets out a slow, steadying breath as he finally pulls out of you, his muscles still tense from the aftershocks of pleasure. His golden eyes flicker down, watching as his seed slowly drips from your thoroughly used core, and something primal stirs inside him at the sight. But instead of acting on it, he shakes his head with a soft chuckle, leaning back to search for the discarded towel.

He spots it a few feet away, abandoned where you threw it at the start of your heated night. With a satisfied sigh, he reaches for it and gently begins to clean you up, making sure his movements are slow and careful, not wanting to overstimulate your already trembling form.

You giggle softly, your body still humming with pleasure, and you stretch lazily beneath him, grinning like an idiot. "It was so good," you sigh, voice hazy with exhaustion and bliss.

Neteyam smirks, shaking his head as he wipes away the last traces of your joined pleasure. "Of course it was," he murmurs, his tone teasing but full of warmth. "I always take care of you, don’t I, ma’yawne?"

You hum in agreement, then reach up, your fingers curling around the back of his neck as you tug him down toward you. "Kiss me," you whisper, your breath ghosting over his lips, eyes half-lidded and pleading.

Neteyam doesn’t hesitate. His lips find yours in an instant, the kiss deep and slow, full of something tender. He takes his time, savoring the moment, feeling the way your body relaxes further beneath him as you melt into his touch.

When he finally pulls away, he shifts beside you, lying down next to you on the nest of blankets and pillows you made together. You sigh contentedly, your hand reaching out, searching blindly for something on the floor next to you. Neteyam watches with a raised brow as you grab his mask, pulling it closer before pressing it into his hand. "You should breathe in it," you mumble sleepily, your eyes fluttering closed as you push the device toward him.

Neteyam hesitates for a second before taking it, his fingers curling around it as his ears flick at your quiet words. "I always worry about you when you don’t wear it here in the outpost," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

His chest tightens at that—at the way you always think about him, always care for him, even when you’re barely awake. He presses a soft kiss to your temple before lifting the mask to his face, breathing in the filtered air. "I know, syulang," he murmurs, his voice full of something deep and unspoken. "I’ll be fine."

But as he watches you drift off beside him, your small hand still resting against his chest, he realizes—being here, with you, breathing the same air, lying tangled in your warmth—this is the only place he ever wants to be.

Neteyam holds you close, his arms wrapped securely around your smaller frame, his long fingers tracing idle patterns along your bare back. The warmth of your body against his soothes something deep inside him, and without realizing it, a soft, contented purr vibrates through his chest.

You fit so perfectly against him—so small, so fragile, yet strong in ways that never ceased to amaze him. He breathes you in, his nose brushing the top of your head, his tail lazily curling and uncurling as the lingering tension in his body slowly fades.

He thinks you’ve already fallen asleep. But then—

"What happened today, Neteyam?" Your quiet whisper breaks the silence, soft and hesitant, but it still sends a ripple through him. His fingers pause against your back for just a second before resuming their slow caresses. "Why were you so tense?"

You don’t press him, don’t demand an answer—just ask, and wait, giving him the space to speak when he’s ready.

Neteyam exhales slowly, his eyes staring at the ceiling of your small room, his mind drifting back to the conversation with his father, to the weight of expectations, to the frustration that had been simmering in his chest all day.

He swallows hard. "It’s nothing," he murmurs, though even he doesn’t believe the words.

Your fingers, which had been resting lightly on his chest, move—tracing up, pressing gently against his jaw, tilting his face down just enough for him to see the way you’re watching him, even in the dim light.

"Neteyam," you whisper, "don’t do that. Not with me."

Something in him cracks.

Neteyam stares at you, his golden eyes searching your face, his jaw tight as if he’s still debating whether to let the words escape or swallow them down like he always does.

"You are not alone anymore," you whisper, your voice soft but firm, your thumb brushing gently over his cheekbone. "You don’t have to carry everything alone. Tell me, please."

His throat bobs, and for a moment, you think he might shut you out again. But then—he exhales sharply, closing his eyes, as if something inside him finally gives way. "My father…" His voice is rough, strained. "He asked where I was last night. He saw that I was… happy. And still, the only thing he could do was scold me."

Your brows furrow, and you stay silent, letting him continue.

"He told me I should be better," Neteyam says bitterly, his jaw clenching. "That I should always be better." His ears flatten slightly, and his fingers twitch against the blankets. "I have spent my entire life doing everything he asked. I have never disobeyed him, never given him a reason to doubt me. I protected my siblings, even when it meant taking the blame for things they did. I have done everything he wanted—" His voice cracks for a second, but he swallows it down. "And yet, the one time I want something for myself… suddenly, I am the worst son."

Your chest tightens.

"Neteyam…" you whisper, reaching for him, but he shakes his head.

"It’s never enough," he breathes, his voice raw, exposed. "I will never be enough." The pain in his voice, the frustration—the deep, aching wound that has clearly festered for years—it nearly breaks you.

"That’s not true," you say, firm but gentle. "You are already enough, Neteyam. You always have been."

His ears twitch, but he doesn’t respond.

You take a breath, carefully choosing your words. "When I was in the village with the other scientists, I always heard about you." You reach out, threading your fingers through his braids, grounding him. "The other Na’vi speak of you with such admiration. They see you, Neteyam. They see how hard you work, how strong and kind you are. They respect you, they look up to you. You are everything they could hope for in a future leader"

Neteyam blinks, his eyes searching yours, like he wants to believe you but doesn’t know how.

"And your father?" you continue, brushing his hair back from his face. "I know he loves you."

Neteyam scoffs, but it’s weak, half-hearted.

"He does," you insist. "I know it might not feel that way, and maybe he doesn’t always show it the way he should. But you are his firstborn. His son. And I promise you, Neteyam, he loves you."

His breath shudders slightly, his face unreadable. You don’t push him to answer. Instead, you reach for him, gently pulling him closer. And after a moment, he lets you.

His massive body shifts as he wiggles down, pressing his head against your chest, his arms circling your waist, holding onto you. From an outside perspective, it must look ridiculous—the strong and powerful Na’vi, curled up against someone half his size, clinging to you like a lost child. But to you, it is the most natural thing in the world.

You cradle him close, your fingers slipping into his hair, massaging the base of his skull as you feel the weight of his body against yours. He exhales slowly, his breath warm against your skin, his tension finally beginning to ease.

You press a soft kiss to the top of his head, whispering, "You are doing a good job, my love. You always have."

Neteyam doesn’t respond, but you feel it—the way his arms tighten around you, the way his breathing steadies, the way his entire body melts against yours. And when you continue running your fingers through his braids, still holding him close, you hear it again—his soft, contented purr vibrating against your chest.

I guess I just wanted to write a fluff smut part before the pain

¯\_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

Part 20: To suffer

#avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #neteyam #avatar twow #james cameron avatar #neteyam sully #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you

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megalony · 2 years ago

Text

We Made It

This is an Evan Buckley (Buck) imagine, it's probably my longest one yet I had so much fun with the fluff and angst in this. Thank you all for the 911 requests I'm slowly getting through them all. Any feedback would be great.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: Christopher joins the Buckley family out for a day trip to the pier but when a natural disaster hits, they all fight to find each other and stay together.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Eddie, everything okay?" (Y/n) leaned against the door and slung her bag on her shoulder.

A bright smile lit up her face and took Eddie by surprise but it helped to wash away the anxiety he had pooling in his stomach. He hated to turn up unannounced, after all he hadn't messaged or called either her or Buck to let them know he would be dropping by, but it was an emergency.

"Yeah, sorry I know I should have called… I need a favour."

"Sure, what's up?" (Y/n) opened the door more to welcome him in but her smile turned into a lopsided smirk when Eddie moved to the side and revealed the small figure hiding behind him.

Christopher.

A broad smile lit up his cheesy face, his curls were flopping all about his head and he had his backpack on.

"Did you get called in?" (Y/n) kept her voice quiet but Eddie's pursed lips and the small nod of his head told her all she needed to know. Eddie wasn't supposed to be on shift today but he'd been called in and he couldn't refuse. And he didn't want to keep imposing on his Abuela and asking her to have Christopher because even though he was a golden boy and never played up, he was still a handful.

"I get it if you can't have him, I just didn't know who-"

"Hey, he's always welcome here. And it just so happens we're off out on a road trip," (Y/n) leaned down to Chris's level and gave him a smile. "Fancy a day out with the Buckley crew?"

"Yeah!"

(Y/n) loved the way he smiled and adverted his eyes to try and hide just how happy and excited he was. She moved out the way and ushered him inside, letting him hobble his way through to find out where Bella was hiding. He was a great kid to look after and (Y/n) knew Eddie was always happy to take care of Bella if they ever needed or asked him to. The kids got along well together despite Christopher being eight and Bella being only three.

"You're a lifesaver, thank you." Eddie leaned forward to give her a quick hug before he glanced at his watch. He had to run before he was officially late for the first time.

"No problem, text when you want him back."

"Thanks."

He had arrived at just the right time, ten minutes later and he would have missed them. They had decided a little road trip was in need to cheer Buck up while he was still off work, waiting for a date when he could go back. He had been glad of the break which meant he could spend time with his girls.

While his leg had been in a cast, (Y/n) had helped him up and down the stairs, helped him shower and cook but the best part was Bella trying to look after him. Evan had sent thousands of pictures to the team of Bella trying to feed him, give him drinks, rub his head, draw on his cast and then the pictures where she fell asleep on him to 'keep him company'.

His daughter had been his saving grace, spoiling him and doting on him and Evan got through each day because of his two girls.

Now he was back in action, they thought a day trip out might be good for them all and Christopher was going to add to the excitement.

"Evan, babe we have an addition to the trip."

"Who?"

Walking down the stairs with Bella perched on his hip, Evan looked at (Y/n) before he looked around the apartment and a grin lit up his face when he saw a familiar flop of curls sat in front of the tv.

"Did Eddie need to work or something?"

"Yeah, do you mind?"

"Course not, he can go on the big rides with me. Chris, are you ready for the best day out ever?" They had already decided this morning that they would stop by the pier in the afternoon. It was the perfect place to play games, have some fun and food and there were a lot of kiddie rides for Bella. Evan waved his arm out to coax Christopher over to them since they were all ready and packed up to go for their day out. But his eyes turned back to look at Bella who was cuddled up into his chest.

She had her light sandy hair put up in two little pigtails and she was wearing a yellow jumpsuit with a big smiling sunflower in the middle. Both her hands moved to pat Evan's chest lightly and when she looked up at him with those wide eyes, he could feel his heart melting on the spot.

"What 'bout me? Will you go on stuff with me, daddy?"

"You know I will sweetheart." He moved his hand to cup the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss to her temple before he reached down to pat Chris on the back and guide him in front of them.

"Alright, off we go."

***

"Bella, babygirl I do need to breathe, you know?" Evan gruffed but his mixed expression gave away the fondness he was trying to supress. He squinted up at his daughter and rolled his lips together but the slight curve at the corner and the softness in the crease of his eyes showed he wasn't telling her off.

She was stood up on his thighs with both arms tightly bound around his neck and her chin resting on top of his head. It was endearing and Evan loved her cuddling up to him but he still needed to breathe and she was making it hard leaning against him like this and holding his neck with quite a lot of force.

She let out a small whine in response but loosened her arms and kissed his hair repeatedly before she moved her hands to swiftly hold his chin and tilt his head up towards her.

When she puckered her lips, Evan grinned madly and pushed up to give her a small peck, making a loud 'mwuah' sound that always made her giggle.

"Smile, I'm gonna send your dad a picture, show him how much fun you have with us." (Y/n) poked her tongue out between her teeth as she smiled at the three of them sat opposite her at the table. Bella had been sitting patiently with her waiting for the boys to finish the ride they went on but as soon as they came off, she clambered over the table and onto Evan's lap.

Evan tilted his chin up and grinned with one arm around Bella who smiled sweetly and pressed her cheek on top of Evan's head. And with his other arm, Evan reeled Chris into his side who held up the cotton candy he'd just got and started to laugh.

(Y/n) snapped the picture, catching in the food and drink splayed out on the table so show Eddie Chris was having a good time and had had his lunch and a rush of sugar.

"Alright team, what's next?" (Y/n) put her empty drink on the tray of rubbish next to her before she looked at them.

They had driven out and gone to a beach half an hour away, then they came round to the pier. Evan had gone on a lot of rides with Chris, (Y/n) took Bella on the smaller rides and all of them went on the waltzers which made (Y/n) feel sick. But they still had the ferris wheel to do, the water rides on the other side of the pier and all the games and stalls to try out. Dinner was ticked off their list though and after the pier they had the toy shop to head to before they went home.

"We need to win something," Chris stuffed the last of the cotton candy in his mouth and looked between the two people he thought of as family. His dad was always referring to them as uncle Buck and auntie (Y/n).

"Yes we do, what games are you good at?"

(Y/n) strapped her bag over her shoulder and rested a hand on Chris's shoulder when he slipped his hands into his crutches and started to look for a stall with good prizes.

"Come on babygirl, let's go win a load of prizes." Evan held Bella's hands and effortlessly hoisted her up until she was sat on his shoulders. He held onto her waist and she held his lower arms rather loosely considering how tight she had held him previously. But she was used to sitting on his shoulders, Evan preferred to carry her or hold her up like this because he was too worried of her running off and losing her in a crowd.

At least with Chris there was no risk of them losing him here.

For the duration of their walk around the pier, (Y/n) kept her hand looped in Chris's backpack strap to make sure he didn't wander too far or risk bump into people.

"Buck, this one." Chris turned to look back at him with a lopsided grin and squinting eyes, his way of looking sweet and cute to get Buck to agree and play the game of throwing balls at tin cans to try and win a stuffed teddy.

Evan turned his head and nodded but when he went to lift Bella over his head and put her down, she all but screamed and grabbed his forearm but her other hand dug into his short hair. She pulled his hair between her fingers to try and stop him from picking her up. Bella didn't want to move, she wanted to stay right where she was, safe and sound on his shoulders where she didn't have to move and she could be close to her dad.

"Ow that's naughty! No, you're coming down now girlie." Evan winced and grunted while he hoisted her over his shoulders and planted her down on her feet next to (Y/n) who quickly grabbed her hand. But Evan knew he wouldn't be able to stay mad at her because she was already biting her thumb and her eyes were welling up, ready to start crying because she had been told off.

Bella swayed on her feet, still biting her thumb and clenching (Y/n)'s hand in the other while she watched the boys. She would stay silent until Evan smiled at her or said something to her and she knew she wasn't in trouble anymore.

"Buck, I won!" Chris pointed at the enlarged teddybear that was about his size and weight which he couldn't carry all by himself. He watched Buck clap and give praise and move to grab the teddy but when Chris turned around, he noticed Bella was still pouting and looking uncertain. "Bella carry it,"

Evan froze for a moment, glancing between the two kids before his expression softened and he motioned for Bella to come over to him. When she stood in front of him, Evan leaned the teddy over her shoulders but kept hold of it by the arms. Letting her believe she was actually carrying it when really it was more like a hat resting on top of her head.

It was just the thing to make her smile and giggle and add a skip in her wobbly steps until she was prancing like a pony with Evan slowly walking behind her, going a lot slower than he normally would.

They all followed Chris towards the end of the pier until they could sit down on a bench. (Y/n) sat down on the edge next to the teddy bear that they put down on the floor, Bella stood up on the bench next to her wedged between her and Evan. And on the end, Evan picked Chris up and let him stand up and hold the barrier, keeping a tight grip on his shirt to make sure he didn't wobble over the side.

What a phone call that would be to Eddie, having to explain Chris had toppled over the side of the pier and took a swim.

"How you feeling?" Reaching across Bella who was transfixed on watching the tide, (Y/n) leaned over and brushed her fingers against Evan's cheek, trailing her fingertip down his jaw when he smiled and tilted his head to the side to look at her.

"I'm okay, I feel a lot better- oof," Evan closed his eyes and bent his head forward when Bella started to sway from side to side and reached her arm out on top of his head to steady herself on him. The amount of bruises Evan got from Bella was unreal, he could come home from the station unscathed without so much as a water mark and then the next day he would be littered with scratches and bruises from his little monster.

"You'll be able to go back to the station, the blood thinners aren't permanent, babe." (Y/n) continued to brush his cheek and leaned over to peck his lips, smiling against his lips when they could both hear Bella humming to herself. She could see just how far Evan had come these last few months, he had had three surgeries on his leg, did physio and exercises every day and he had followed the doctor's advice to the dot. All the hard work he had put in wasn't going to be for nothing, (Y/n) just knew it.

"How you doin' Chris? What are we gonna do next?" Evan looked over to his right and squinted up at him when the sun beamed down on them. There were still a few games they could play and they all wanted a go on the ferris wheel which Bella was the right height for. But it was up to the kids and since Bella didn't care what they did, it was down to Chris.

"Hook a duck!"

"Alright-"

"Daddy," Bella patted Evan's hair like she was smoothing it down and he turned to look back at her, smiling up at her until he saw her furrowed brows and the way she was bending her knees like she was trying to do some kind of funny dance.

"What, babygirl?"

"Where did water go?"

Both Evan and (Y/n) frowned at one another and quickly moved to turn around and peer over the side of railing the kids were clinging to. What was she talking about? There was a whole sea out there, why did she suddenly think the water had vanished? She had been watching it for the past few minutes, it couldn't have vanished before her eyes?

Something burned down in (Y/n)'s stomach and she could feel her lungs popping and deflating as anxiety broke out in her system.

It wasn't the lack of water at the bottom of the pier that caused her worry, it was the turbulant view of an appending wave that surged her panic. That was larger than the usual surfing wave that occured on this beach. (Y/n) had never lived anywhere where this had happened and she'd never been so close to see one in person.

A tsunami.

Before she knew what she was doing, (Y/n) batted her hand out until she found Evan's bicep and she dug her nails into his skin, clenching her fingers around him like he was somehow going to make this better or turn the wave away and demand it stop where it was. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to do but she couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

"Evan…" His name came out nothing more than a broken sound that she could barely hear but she felt the way his muscles tensed and he shot up from the bench without tearing his gaze away from the water.

"Get off the pier," His voice was barely above a whisper but he was getting into action mode already. "Get off the pier! Move back! Get off the fucking pier!"

His voice sounded like a siren to everyone else who had gathered round to see like it was some sort of beautiful spectacle instead of a harrowing omen. They shouldn't be gathering round to watch, couldn't they see how massive that wave was or work out what that implied? They all needed to leave, not rush closer.

Chris gasped but he didn't have time to react or talk when Evan hastily grabbed him and tossed him over his shoulder. There was no time for Chris to walk or he wouldn't get far and they needed to be as far away from the shore as possible, they needed to be in-land. Evan kept his arm secured over Chris's back and he pushed away from the bench, reaching his free arm out for (Y/n).

Terror had hold of (Y/n) by her heart and it made each breath and each pulse of blood feel horrid and broken but she had to push through it. With trembling gasps, (Y/n) hoisted Bella into her arms, holding her face against her shoulder and her other arm tightly wrapped around around her small waist. She kept her daughter cocooned to her chest and ran forward as Evan grabbed her elbow so he didn't lose her in the rush that was going to come.

The pair of them bolted back across the wooden pannels, aiming to keep going and going until the inevitable flood overtook them. If they could at least get to the end of the pier then it would be a little better but Evan doubted it.

And when he turned to glance behind him, the water was almost at the bench they had just left.

They were running out of time.

"Here! Down here!" Doubling over, evan placed Chris down behind a vacated shall and as swift as anything, he grabbed (Y/n) by her hips and hoisted her over the side before he jumped across.

(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and buried her face into Bella's hair who was whimpering against her chest, unsure what was happening and why everyone was suddenly screaming and panicking. She pressed her back up against the wood and felt Evan kneel down beside her and hold his arm around her while his other arm deadlocked around Chris.

They had to stay together.

"Oh God, Evan…" (Y/n) nudged her forehead into his shoulder and felt his arm tighten around her waist until it felt like an iron bar was grafted into her skin but it was comforting. It was the only thing grounding her racing thoughts from making her pass out.

"I won't let go babe! I won't I swear-"

He couldn't breathe. He had underestimated just how powerful the water was going to be when it hit. Wood broke and splintered on impact and each broken pannel hit Evan in the head, the arm, the legs and his back like he was being beaten black and blue.

It didn't matter how tightly Evan kept his arms around his family, he couldn't hold them all or keep them safe at his chest.

When the water hit, Evan got twisted and lifted from the floor and that was it. He could feel his fingers scratching into Chris's shirt but (Y/n) left his arm after maybe five or six seconds at most. The water lifted Evan up instead of dragging him down like he expected and it gave him a chance to gasp for a deep breath before something smacked into his foot and toppled him into a gushing wave. He seemed to spin in a circle and race down towards the floor like a diver reaching for the ocean.

A panel of wood smacked into his forehead right across his eye and that was when his world turned black.

Something akin to a bubbling scream gurgled at the back of Evan's throat and he was sure if he could he would have been sick. Everything was water, his lungs were full of water, his clothes were weighed down by water, the current was holding onto him with deep imbedded claws and dropplets were rolling down his eyes.

A tree branch smacked right into his lower sternum and stomach, knocking the water out of his lungs and letting him take in a strangled gasp and open his eyes. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear but when it did, he started to scream.

Where were they?

Why wasn't he back at the pier? How far had the water dragged him? Evan couldn't tell where he was, the water was at a third story level, covering the road, the landmarks, the signs and the building names and distinctions. All he could see were towering buildings, floating cars, broken glass, bodies and unworthy items floating beside him. Everything from chairs to lamps flew past him at top speed and gave him no direction of where he had turned up. All he knew was he was no longer at the pier.

"C-Christopher! (Y/n)! God, Bella? Bella baby where are you?!" Each word became clearer when he took deep ragged breaths but his voice rose two octaves until it sounded like a teen who hadn't hit puberty yet.

Chris didn't have balance or coordination or enough ability to find something to cling to and stop from floating away into the next state. Evan didn't even know if he could swim. And (Y/n) was somewhere around here, she had to be but if she was injured she couldn't swim and if she could swim, what if she hit something?

What if she didn't have hold of Bella anymore? She was three, she couldn't swim, she could barely tolerate getting a bath. This was far too powerful for her to stay afloat or swim or avoid getting scraped or punctured by something.

Where was his baby girl?

"No, God no," Evan let the tears fall, he let awful, hoarse screams scratch past his salty lips as his eyes burned from the beating he had taken and the tears he was shedding. He couldn't get the picture of his daughter floating past him out of his mind. Her little body floating limply past him, never to be seen again. Evan wouldn't survive if he couldn't see her face again or hear her laugh or her calling his name.

Evan screamed all their names again and again until he couldn't do anything but gasp for air and spit the water that flooded his mouth when he tried to push up higher on the tree branch that was currently keeping him afloat.

"Buck! B-Buck!"

"Christopher!" Evan looked around wildly, blinking away the droplets clinging to his lashes but he couldn't see where Chris was. Until he squinted into the distance and noticed a small head and a pair of arms clinging to a telephone pole.

One down, two to go.

"I'm coming! Stay there, hold on bud I'm coming!"

Bringing his legs up, Evan awkwardly shuffled over the branch and dived back into the current that was thankfully heading towards Chris and not away from him. He seemed to be sat right in the middle of the current that flew him down the middle of whatever street he was on.

As soon as he was within reach, Evan stretched out in front of him like someone desperate to find the light in the darkness and when his fingers barely touched Chris's shoulder, Evan grabbed him. He punctured his fingers into Chris's shoulders until he was sure he had bruised him and he pulled him from the pole.

Evan turned onto his back and lifted Chris onto his chest so he could still breathe and stay afloat but his head turned madly to try and find somewhere to move. They couldn't stay floating through the street, it was too dangerous. They had to get somewhere high and safe and wait until the water lowered enough to walk through or help arrived.

Did the fire and rescue come out during a tsunami? It was a natural disaster, surely they had to come out, but how would they get here, a truck couldn't float?

"Truck, truck." Chris waved his arms out beneath the water to stay floating on his back but he tried to splash towards the truck that was elevated and sat on a slant. It was resting on something but he didn't know what.

"Good, good boy! Alright l-let's go there."

Moving yet again, Evan hooked his arm tight around Chris's waist and tilted until they were both trying to stand up in the water so they could kick, bat and shimmy towards the truck.

He wasn't sure where the effort or the energy came from, but they swam like eels through the water until Evan could grab the open window and reel them in.

"Up, up."

When Chris grabbed the rail on top of the truck, Evan moved him up onto his shoulder so he could keep him high above the water and so he could put his feet into the windowsil and lift them both up. Chris let himself go floppy so Evan could push him over the rail and get him safe on top before he flopped on his chest next to Chris, exhausted.

"Are you okay?" Evan crouched on his hands and knees, coughing up the last bit of water and trying to take a second to make sure he could see no injuries on Chris. He couldn't be telling Eddie he had gotten his son hurt during a tsunami and if Chris was badly hurt, Evan wouldn't be able to cope in this situation.

But when Chris smiled and shook his head, Evan merely gasped. How could he be smiling at a time like this? Wasn't he afraid of what just happened? Shouldn't he be crying and screaming and shouting for his dad, demanding help arrive and take them away?

He looked like he had a black eye coming along and there would no doubt be scratches and bruises but he didn't seem like he was badly injured and that was a big weight off Evan's shoulders.

Evan himself felt okay. His head was pounding, blood was starting to dribble down into his left eye along with the water seeping off him. his ribs hurt, his arm was scratched and he was sure a few lower ribs were either fractured or broken. But he was relatively okay, he could run off the adrenaline that was now coursing through his veins. He would be functional until he could find out what happened to the rest of his family.

Tears started to flood Evan's eyes until he could barely see when Chris leaned forward and cupped his face in his hands and gently patted his cheek.

"You're hurt." Chris tried to smear the blood off Evan's forehead and the action made Evan sob.

"I'll be alright, buddy."

"Auntie (Y/n) and Bella, are we gonna find them?" Chris started to brush away the tears falling from Evan's eyes that turned a darker shade of blue and started to twitch.

"God, I hope so."

***

"Daddy!"

"I know you want daddy, baby, I know. We'll find him," (Y/n) could barely keep her voice level but she had to try and sound promising and encouraging. She had cried too much already.

If she cried any longer Bella would realise she was lying. How was (Y/n) going to know if they would find Evan and Christopher unharmed and alright after this? She might find one and not the other. She might have to give Eddie the worst phone call of his life and break his world. She might find Evan too late and shatter her own world entirely.

It had been a miracle that (Y/n) had stayed so close to Bella. After Evan drifted, (Y/n) realised Bella had been sucked out of her arms and carried off further ahead of her. A branch punctured into the bottom of her chest and a chunk of metal smacking into her forehead had done nothing to deter (Y/n) away from chasing her baby through the water. She watched her daughter bob up and down through the stream, gasping and struggling to stay afloat until she got tangled up in a bush that stopped her from going any further downstream.

(Y/n) had managed to grab her and use some nearby rope to tie Bella to her chest so they couldn't separated again.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) folded her arms over the roof of the car Bella was perched on and she pressed her forehead on her arms. If she was going to cry she needed to smother her sounds and not let Bella see so she didn't panic and get upset again too.

"No, daddy!" Bella's tone changed and she started frantically pointing, her sobs now ceasing into nothing.

"What?"

Turning around as much as she could, (Y/n) almost screamed when she saw a familiar figure looming in the distance. How on Earth did Bella know that was Evan? From way over here, he looked like a broad figure standing on top of something. But then again, his hair was always dark and flat when damp and he had wide shoulders, thick arms and a reduced torso. He was distinctive, thank God.

"Evan? Evan, please, please be him!" (Y/n) tried screaming his name but it only made her injured side ache and her lungs burn. She let bella continue to scream at the top of her lungs and wave her arms to direct him over to them.

A fire burned inside (Y/n)'s knotted stomach when she watched him dive into the water. It had to be him, what stranger would answer to his name and head their way? They weren't exactly in distress, they weren't being carried away by the water they had managed to find somewhere to stay safe for the time being.

"Daddy!"

"I'm coming, baby it's me! (Y/n), (Y/n)!" Evan flung a floating shopping trolley to the side and pushed another wooden beam out of his way as he coarsed through the water towards his girls. He could feel Christopher's arms tight around his neck and his weight pressing down on his back, reassuring him that the eight year old was alright and still with him.

He had started to give up hope of finding his girls, it was getting harder and harder to stay positive around Chris until he heard a distant crying. He had been looking round and round for what felt like hours, then when he and Chris moved over to a broken building that had been safe to stand on, he heard the voices get clearer.

There they were. (Y/n) had managed to stay with Bella or at least follow her and find her again and when Evan reached them, they would all be together again.

As soon as Evan was within reach of the dark blue BMW the girls were clinging to, he scrambled onto the boot and manouevred Chris from his shoulders to the top of the car. He helped him shuffle slowly on his stomach until he was safely on the roof and out of harms way.

"Bella!" Chris wrapped an arm around her and started to giggle when she shuffled between his legs and cuddled close to him. She was desperate to jump down into Evan's arms but one look at his stern expression told her to stay where she was. And that meant the closes source of comfort was the person who she thought was her cousin.

"Oh baby! Oh I thought- I…" Evan couldn't repeat what had been rattling through his head, lest he wanted to have a nervous breakdown and sob in front of the kids.

He thought he'd lost her for good.

He gripped the edge of the car and shuffled along until he was close enough to dig one hand into the top of the car and use the other to wrap his arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders. He reeled her into his chest and felt how badly she was shaking when she let out a feeble mewl into his chest. Her face tucked into the middle of his chest near his collar bone and both her arms wrapped around his torso, digging her nails into his flesh to reassure herself he was actually here, safe in her arms.

"Evan…"

"I'm here, I've got you, you're safe."

He couldn't press enough kisses to her wet, matted hair and each peck made her cry harder until she was sobbing and bubbling and whimpering in his arms and all he could do was shush her. If she didn't stop he was going to breakdown.

"Get on the car baby, we need to sit up with the kids until the water goes down enough to walk." Evan let his arm slope lower down until it was firmly around (Y/n)'s waist but his head snapped up to Bella when she spoke.

"Mummy's stuck."

"What? Stuck how?" His head pivoted back down to (Y/n) and he coiled his arm back to his side so he could hold her chin between his fingers and tilt her head up to look at him when she kept her eyes adverted down. He thought it was strange that she had Bella on top of the car but she herself was still half submerged in the water. It didn't dawn on Evan that she might be sitting in the water because she was stuck, he thought she was just trying to test the level of the water or wait and get ready to move again.

"My leg," (Y/n) glanced up at the kids before she lowered her voice, "I- I couldn't swim properly and hold Bella, I tried to get to the car… my foot went through the window, the glass-" She broke off, breaths hitching higher with each word.

Bella had been screaming and choking at the same time and (Y/n) didn't know what to do. The moment she got her unstuck the current took them and a wave submerged them and both of them panicked. When the car came into view (Y/n) knew she had to do anything and everything to reach it and get them both safe but she couldn't let them continue to float away and risk drowning or becoming separated again.

One slippery hand on the roof of the car wasn't enough to ground them to it and (Y/n) was in such a hurry and frightened that in her haste, she tried to put her feet on the car any way she could to grab it and stay secured to it.

Her right foot went straight through the glass window up to her mid-thigh and she could feel every shard of glass imbedded in her leg to the hilt. If she moved an inch either way, a searing hot fire pulsed through her nerves and made spots dance in front of her eyes.

So (Y/n) sat with her left leg floating on the bonnet of the car and her right leg jammed in the window, waiting for help to arrive or for enough courage to filter through her so she could pull herself free and keep moving. She didn't have to wait any longer, the one wish she had been praying for had been answered. Both the boys were here in front of her, they found their way back to her and they were alright.

"Okay, brace yourself on the roof and I'll take a look," Evan pecked her forehead again before he reached down to grab the doorhandle so he had something to ground himself with like an anchor in the sea.

It was hard to see much in the murky seaweed coloured water. Bits of everything floated past him from socks and leaves to paintbrushes and cans of pop. But he didn't have to go far down at all to see the problem. There was a large shard of glass imbedded in the underside of (Y/n)'s thigh, that was why she couldn't move.

He pushed back up to the surface and looked around before he grabbed a floating branch that looked sturdy and thick.

"I'm gonna break the glass to get you free, then I can check the damage properly and patch you up. Deep breaths, this is gonna sting sweetheart," He whispered the last part in her ear before he submerged himself again.

Punching and using force underwater felt pointless when the water took over half his energy and his swing but he had to try. He jammed the branch repeatedly into each area of the glass until finally it started to give way and break off into smaller jagged pieces. And it gave Evan the chance to slowly hold (Y/n)'s upper thigh close to her bum and slowly pull her leg back.

When she was free, Evan rounded her side and scrambled up onto the bonnet before he crouched back down and leaned into the water. His smile was enough to calm (Y/n) down and she held onto his shoulders, letting him grab her under her arms and slowly hoist her up out of the water as both kids cheered.

"Alright, alright baby I'm gonna lay you on your front so I can check the damage, try stay still."

Evan lifted his leg over (Y/n)'s back so she was held between his thighs before he lowered her down until she was laid down on her stomach on the roof. The glass was in the back of her thigh and he had to sort it.

"I'm sorry baby."

"What f-"

Both Chris and Bella coiled back in fright when (Y/n) screamed before she smothered her mouth and nose with her hands and bit down into the palm of her hand.

Evan grimaced, swiping the tears away with his shoulder when he loosened his belt and strapped it as tight as he could around (Y/n)'s upper thigh. He pulled it so hard it sank into her skin like a new layer of flesh and it caused her leg to jerk out. When the pin was secured in the button, Evan kneeled down in front of her and pulled her so her upper half was laid over his knees.

He bent over her, smoothing her hair behind her ears as she sobbed into his muck-ridden jeans. Each sob made her shake and each jagged breath made her leg pulsate and throb and it circled back round to make her cry even worse and all Evan could do was shush her. He hummed into her hair, kissed the back of her head and pressed his fingertips into her skin to try and calm her down.

He couldn't remove the glass from her leg because it was stemming the bleeding and it would make her bleed out if it was removed. But Evan couldn't just leave it there and let the rest of the blood drip around the wound. He had to cut off the blood supply to the wound and the only thing he had that would suffice was the belt keeping his jeans up.

"Shh, it's okay baby, I'm so sorry but I had to. I love you so, so much."

After a few minutes, (Y/n) punctured her teeth into her lower lip to try and stop herself from crying, she had to be brave for the kids.

There was no way she could sit or stand up when the glass was still in her leg so she settled for pulling herself a little higher up on the roof like she was sunbathing and getting a tan on her back. She kept her arms folded and rested her chin on her arms, trying to smile through the tears and the pain that was making her delirious.

"I'm okay," She whispered quietly when Christopher reached a hand out and gently rubbed her shoulder, unsure what else he could do.

"Daddy…" Bella held her arms out towards Evan and shuffled out of Chris's arms. She hadn't seen him or touched him since before the tsunami hit and she was desperate for some comfort. She had been calling out for him for what felt like hours, days, years to the frightened toddler and now he was here, she hadn't even gotten a cuddle yet.

"Come here babygirl,"

That was all the encouragement she needed to scramble forward onto his lap and curl up against his sodden chest. She didn't care about his damp, musky shirt that now smelled horribly of fish, sewage and whatever else was floating in the water. All she cared about was that his broad chest was pressed up against her face and his strong arms were curled around her and when she felt him kiss the top of her head, she mewled quietly like a kitten.

***

"I think we can walk through this now, everyone is heading in that direction, there might be shelter or a hospital somewhere nearby." Evan tiredly looked down at (Y/n), trying to add a little hope to his broken voice.

They had been sat on this car for an hour or more and they couldn't wait much longer. Evan had kept watch of (Y/n)'s leg and her lower chest where he knew she had a puncture wound and both were leaking blood like a slow but steady river that trailed over the side of the car and dribbled down into the dusty caramel coloured water.

He needed to get her to a hospital before she lost too much blood or got an infection or something worse happened. They were safe but isolated here. There had to be a hospital or a make shift hospital nearby.

And (Y/n) agreed, she was growing tired and the longer they stayed here, the less likely she was going to be to move.

"Alright you two, we're going to find some help, wait there for a moment."

Evan sat Bella back down next to Christopher before he shuffled to the edge of the car and slowly slid down into the lapping water, annoyed that he was just starting to dry off and now he was going to be cold and sodden and sticky again.

The water barely reached his knees and it was thinning out by the second.

"Come here bud," Chris smiled and reached out for Evan's arms, letting him pick him up and slide him into the water as gently as he could in case anything sharp was hiding beneath. "Can you walk through this?"

"I think so."

"Good. Sweetheart, you ready?"

A tepid smile mixed with a grimace twisted on (Y/n)'s lips and she shuffled to the edge and looped her arms around Evan's neck. She took a moment to kiss his jaw and bury her face in his neck before she nodded and let him do the work. His hands were tight and secure on her hips and he pulled her closer, leaning her weight on his chest until he could lower her down into the water.

(Y/n) could barely feel her right leg. It was like an awkward sense of pins and needles but it didn't hurt, her leg felt like it was under anaesthetic, it was limp and felt thick and puffy and loose like it was disconnected. She had to lean all of her weight onto her left leg and loop her hands around Evan's bicep to make sure she didn't fall, but she was upright.

She would shuffle and hobble through the water, she had to.

"Baby girl come here so I can get you." Evan wrapped his free arm around Bella and swiftly picked her up from the car but the moment he leaned down to try and put her in the water, she screamed. A horrid, ungodly sound left her lips and rickoted through Evan's ears and make him wince and shriek in response.

"No daddy no! D-don't let me go! DADDY NO!"

Bella started to bash her tiny fists into Evan's chest so much she was starting to hurt him and each scream resonated through his ears until he had to shout her name to get her attention.

He pressed his hand against the back of her head, tangling his fingers into her crimped hair as he pressed his lips against her forehead to shush her.

"Okay baby girl, it's okay. I'll just carry you, shh you're safe I promise. Daddy's got you."

He didn't want to carry her all this way, as much as Evan loved holding carrying and cuddling his little girl, this was different. He had (Y/n) to think about, she could barely stand up and hobbling through this was going to be a big trek for her. Evan had been hoping the kids would walk beside him and he could either carry (Y/n) or at least take her weight and keep lifting her so she didn't have to move as much.

But he couldn't put Bella down, not in this state. God, she was never going to get a bath again.

They didn't know how far they trecked through the water slugging around their ankles. They didn't know how many people they had passed or how many bodies floated in the water nearby. No one could count the amount of cars, trees, electrical items, bikes, cupboards and shoes that had floated past them.

But each of them were getting tired.

Evan couldn't keep walking for much longer, his head and his heart could go on for miles because of the three people who were depending on him, but his body was past its limit.

He had Chris clinging to his left leg, one arm curled around his leg and the other hand was in his pocket so he stayed close and kept himself upright. Bella was asleep in his arm, her legs curled up on his chest and her head lolled on his shoulder. It was a relief she was asleep because neither parent wanted her to witness or remember the violent, horrifying images that were surrounding them.

And then there was (Y/n), both her arms around Evan's neck, her head tucked into his chest and her body stooped over. Her left leg was limp and useless now, she was dragging her foot behind her collecting mud and grime like a hoarder. Evan took half her weight and she hopped on her good leg or dragged her foot and shuffled awkwardly through the sludge.

It seemed like forever until the road actually became visible and the water drained away into a clear, if wrecked, street.

They had been given directions to the nearest hospital and all of them had been praying for some sort of vehicle to pass by and give them a lift but they had no such luck. They had to keep walking until they found what they were looking for.

"Evan… I can't," (Y/n) couldn't even voice what she was feeling or tell him what she wanted or needed. All she could do was stare up at her husband, her firefighter, her saviour, and bite her lip.

She wanted to sleep, she wanted to sit down and have a nap and wake up all better and patched up with this event far behind them in their past with their future ahead of them. But the longer they walked, the less sure (Y/n) was that she would be okay after all of this. She just wanted to stop.

"Bella, baby girl, there's no more water. I need you to walk with us, stay right between my legs if you want and hold onto me, but I have to carry mummy now."

Evan woke her up gently and peppered kisses all over her face to brighten her up and make sure she knew everything was alright. There was no water anywhere in sight to frighten her and make her cling to him in fear of drowning. He didn't care if she walked with Chris, walked between his legs or right behind him holding onto his other leg like Chris. Just as long as she walked so he could carry (Y/n).

Bella began to whimper and squirm but Evan didn't give her chance to panic, he crouched down with (Y/n) doubling over and leaning on him, and placed their daughter on her feet. She stood firmly on the floor, panic and uncertainty in her eyes before Chris reached a free hand down to hold her hand.

"Up you go sweetheart, this will be the safest way for your leg." He crouched and turned his back towards (Y/n), wiggling his brows to make her smile and lighten the mood.

He didn't want to carry her on his chest when he had a feeling Bella would stay in front of him. He couldn't carry her bridal style because it would be too awkward and he could hurt her leg. But a piggy back ride was the next best thing, he could keep her safe and still see where he was going and her leg would just dangle over his hip. He wouldn't be in reach of the glass to knock or disturb it.

With a smile that showed how weak and disorientated she felt, (Y/n) looped her arms around her husband's neck and let his hands hold her thighs. He scooped her up with ease and settled her on his torso before he straightened up and nodded at the kids to start walking.

"Off we go."

Somehow, Evan felt safer, more secure and had a slight boost of energy and adrenaline with (Y/n) on his back. He had her safe in his hold and he didn't have to watch her struggle and hobble, he had been desperate to carry her and now he could, he felt better. Despite the discomfort in his ribs that he was sure were broken and the dizzy feeling clouding his head, he pushed forward.

He had his wife on his back, Chris clinging to his leg and his daughter waddling slowly between his legs, holding Chris's hand for safety and reassurance.

The sun started to set behind the horizon when the four of them slowly shuffled, hobbled and dragged their feet towards the hospital they had been dreaming about for hours.

"We made it," Evan choked through his words and he could feel the tears suddenly spilling down his face like a waterfall. They did it; they got here, it took them all afternoon and a horrid start, but they got to the hospital. Now they just needed to find someone to help them and they could get patched up and finally relax. As soon as everyone was checked over and (Y/n) was taken care of, Evan could calm down.

He would think, breathe, eat, sleep, cry, when his wife was tended to and out of medical danger.

"You did it baby," (Y/n) whispered quietly in his ear and kissed the junction of his neck behind his ear and jaw. She felt him shiver beneath her touch and she nuzzled her cheek into his shoulder. It was hard to fight off the sleep that was fighting to win the battle.

"Cap, it's good to see you," Eddie patted Bobby on the shoulder and managed a bright smile despite the day's work that had unfolded. Staying at the hospital had kept him busy and being a temporary medic was a delightful change for Eddie. He felt a little more useful here than he had back there in the water a few hours earlier.

But whatever Bobby was about to say drowned out into static when Eddie looked just beyond him.

"Oh my God!" Eddie's fingers dug into Bobby's shoulder and he ended up yanking him down a little before he suddenly let go and bolted past the hospital reception that was crammed with people.

He stumbled down the path, his heart beating frantically against his ribs causing the vein in his neck to pulse and make him feel faint.

What had he done?

Why did he drop Christopher off with them this morning? Why did he add such extra pressure on the two most important people to him? He should have found some other childcare for Christopher, he shouldn't have turned up out of the blue and landed them with him. They looked like they had all been through the heart of the storm and then some. Why did he give them the added pressure of Christopher?

If he didn't they might have gone somewhere else on their day trip than wherever they took the kids.

Eddie didn't know what to do when he reached them. He wasn't sure whether to grab his son and hold onto him for dear life, check over Bella, confiscate Buck and wrap him up in a hug or take (Y/n) and carry her through reception. He froze in front of them all, his arms paralysed out in front of him as he couldn't make up his mind on what to do.

"Daddy!" Christopher let go of Bella's hand and stumbled forward, making the decision for him as he threw himself into Eddie's waiting arms.

"Oh, Christopher, are you okay?" He didn't look like he had been through the tsunami, he looked more like he had gone swimming in the sea than through a horrific natural disaster. "Buck, I- hey girlie, oh it's okay." Eddie kept one arm around his son but his free arm looped around Bella when she ran across to him and grabbed his leg.

"Uncle Eddie,"

She couldn't hold her dad properly when he was carrying (Y/n) and she was desperate for comfort. If she couldn't have Evan, she was sure as Hell going to have her uncle Eddie instead. Her little arms stretched up and grabbed at Eddie's neck until he understood and picked her up, holding her against his chest when she began to cry.

"Buck, what happened? Chimney I need help over here!" Bobby bypassed Eddie and stood in front of Evan whose legs were starting to wobble as floods of tears poured down his face.

"Buck, God where were you?" Chimney tried to look him in the eye but he wouldn't look at any of them, all Evan could do was cry, keeping his gaze down to his feet. "Stretcher! (Y/n) I'm gonna check you over real quick then we'll get you inside and patched up, okay?"

"Hm,"

She couldn't open her eyes any longer, her face nuzzled into Buck's neck again and her arms squeezed lightly around his neck. It took all her effort to smooth her fingertips over Evan's chest to let him know that he was okay and they had made it.

Chimney patted his hands all down her back, felt her ribs in case they were broken and observed the puncture wound in her lower chest that wasn't extensive but it would definitely need stitches. But when he looked down at her right leg, his lips rolled together and he eyed Bobby with uncertainty. Her leg was extremely discoloured from the cut off circulation, blood was still dribbling slowly down her leg and the glass could have any number of infections on it that could penetrate her soft tissue and cause damage.

She had to get into theatre now before her leg became unsavable.

"Pulse is good but her breathing is shallow and her leg is in bad shape, that glass needs to come out now and the blood supply needs to be reconnected before the leg is lost." Chimney turned to find two nurses had arrived with a slightly lopsided stretcher but it would do. (Y/n) was now a high priority and she would get first admission to an operating room. "Okay (Y/n) we're going to gently ease you off of Buck and onto your stomach on this stretcher."

"Stay very still Buck, we've got her don't worry." Bobby patted Evan's shoulder before he and Chimney both got hold of (Y/n).

They moved an arm beneath her chest each and carefully held her thighs before they pulled her back. Her head fell back so slow and floppy it looked like she was a ragdoll whose neck had just broken. Her arms were lifeless and useless at her sides and she felt like jelly, one wrong move and she would split forever.

Bobby moved round and leaned backwards so (Y/n) could lay on his chest and Chimney could manouevre her legs and they lifted her up onto the stretcher. He turned her head to the side so she could still breathe properly and they placed her arms on the stretcher tucked up against her chest before Chimney gave a thumbs up for them to take her.

"Buck, buddy let's follow them inside and stay with (Y/n). You and Bella can stay close by and we will get you checked out." Bobby pressed one hand on Buck's back and the other on his chest both to check his breathing and to try and comfort him and steady him when he looked like he would keel over.

He knew Evan and Bella wouldn't want to be separated from (Y/n) and if they went now, they could stay in the closest waiting room to her and get seen by a nurse. Evan's head looked bad and he could have other multiple injuries they didn't know about.

As soon as Buck saw Eddie take the kids inside to follow (Y/n), his knees gave out.

His hands latched around Bobby's arm, his body went down with a harsh thud to the concrete floor on his knees and his breathing turned shallow and limp.

"Wow, wow! Hey, you're okay. You're all here in one piece, you're all gonna be okay. Come here," Bobby spoke with a calm and unusually soft voice like melted butter and he pulled Evan into his chest when he didn't refuse the contact. He let Evan tuck his face into his shoulder, switching between little panting breaths and big gasps before he let out a shrill cry that sounded like his throat had been scratched raw.

"I- I got them all here. They're all safe," Evan started to rock himself back and forth until Bobby and Chimney both did the same, holding onto him and checking his vitals at the same time.

"You did it Buck. You did it."

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