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still-with-koo · 1 year

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Stay | JJK

summary: when a creepy stranger follows you to your new job, your best friend jungkook makes sure he never does it again. but now he’s hurt and you’re determined to tend to his wounds, no matter how awkward if feels.

pairing: jungkook x reader

wc: 5,778

warnings/genre/rating: 17+, best friends to lovers; swearing; mentions of violence and bruises; insinuation of stalking; emotional distress; kissing; romantic touching; a bit of jealousy; vague reference to family estrangement; in this world, jungkook likes coffee but you don’t; and this is all obviously made up, none of it’s real

a/n: look, idk what this is. it just happened while i was missing a cute someone. having a really hard time writing rn so apologies if this isn’t what you were expecting. maybe you’ll like it (i hope so!)

The last few hours of your shift pass quietly.

You weren’t expecting any customers at this hour, especially given the warming temperatures, although convenience stores do tend to have some weirdos walk in at odd hours.

You duck below the front counter to clean the glass encasing the lottery tickets and hear the front door chime.

Quickly removing your hand, you start locking up the case when you hear something land on top of the counter. Tilting your head up, you see two Starbucks cups sat atop the counter.

“We don’t—“

When you meet the eyes of the customer, you realize it’s Jungkook.

“Done yet?”

“Not yet,” you reply, sighing as you glance at the clock behind you. “Nearly an hour left.”

Jungkook sighs. “You need a different job,” he says, looking over his shoulder before stuffing his hands in his pocket. “ I have a bad feeling about those dudes hanging out front.”

You look past him and shake your head.

You recognize one of the guys, the same guy that asked you out a few weeks ago. The one you’re certain belongs to some gang or mafia or something. You wonder if he thinks you may change your mind if you see him around enough times.

Little does he know, he’s the reason you’ve been applying to dozens of jobs to get out of this hellhole and as far from him as possible.

But you haven’t had much luck yet and you can’t afford to be jobless.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook. I can handle them. Anyways,” you stop for a second, pointing at the cups. “One of these for me?”

“No, I need both of these if I gotta listen to you.”

“This one better not be coffee or I’ll—“

You grab the one closest to you, sniffing the warm chocolate aroma and sighing in relief.

“I asked them to spike it with espresso.”

“Jerk,” you reply, smiling with the knowledge that Jungkook would never forget your drink order. He knows how much you despise coffee.

One by one, customers leave the coffee shop and you don’t blame them. With the number of mistakes the new barista is making, spilling drinks on the floor, on himself, on customers, you would be inviting a burn just to stay within 10 feet of him.

But you remain standing, grimacing every time one of the customers walks out with rather harsh parting words.

Too harsh, considering that his face probably drew in far more customers than the small shop usually sees.

Finally, you’re next in the line.

Well, you’re now the only person left in line.

When he sees you, his face brightens up tenfold.

“Y/N!! I didn’t expect you here. Hi!”

You step forward and smile at the beautiful boy behind the counter, hoping and praying that the warmth in your cheeks is not translating onto your skin.

“Hi Taehyung! Jungkook told me today was your first day so of course I had to come. How is it going?”

“Good,” is the first word out of his mouth but when you glance at the carnage of spilled drinks being wiped up by another worker, he quickly adds, “But it could be better. I guess I have much more to learn.” The way he scratches the nape of his neck is unexpectedly endearing.

“Let me make you a drink. You hit me as an iced Americano drinker, right?”

Iced Americano. The most repulsive, rancid drink on the menu.

“Yep, mhmm. That’s my drink.”

This is a new low. You’re not proud of yourself for folding but after all the mistakes he made today, you don’t have the heart to add another one to the list.

He prepares it quickly and regretfully manages not to spill it on you. As you take your first sip, the door to the coffee shop opens up behind you.

“Jungkook! You made it, buddy.”

Shit.

You wish the ground could swallow you whole when you notice Jungkook in your periphery, staring at the drink now leaving your lips, your throat twitching from having to push the vile liquid down it.

“Is that… coffee?”

“Haven’t seen much of you lately. So this is where you work now?”

You drum your fingers along the counter of the coffee shop, trying not to let your panic show on your face. You don’t even bother looking at the guy, the same one that fuelled your desire to leave your old job. You assumed you would never have to see him again once you found a new place to work but you were wrong.

With some effort, you manage to muster up your best customer service smile. “What would you like to order?”

He steps closer and you can almost imagine his smug expression as you look past him, trying your best to avoid eye contact.

“What drink can I buy you, beautiful?”

You flinch at the last word, scrunching up your nose as if something smells. You can smell the bullshit on him.

You take one deep inhale and straighten up to face him head on, locking eyes with the creep.

“I don’t want a drink from you. Ever. So either order something for yourself or leave the shop.”

He chuckles. “Don’t get emotional, beautiful. It’s just one drink.”

You scoff, amazed at his audacity.

“Look, I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”

“Come on, it’s just one drink—“

“She asked you to leave her alone. That means you leave her alone.”

Taehyung is now standing between you and the man, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Why don’t you butt out, man. I’m just talking here.”

“No,” you interject, pushing Taehyung gently aside as you face the creep again, “I’m done talking to you. Are you going to leave or would you prefer the cops escort you?”

“Open up, Y/N. I know you’re home.”

You run to the peephole in your apartment and see Jungkook standing on the other side, pacing back and forth with his hands in fists.

“Now, Y/N, or I’m breaking the door down.”

When you open the door, he practically jumps at you, grabbing your shoulders as he scans your face and then looks at the rest of you. “Are you ok, Y/N? Did he hurt you? Give me his name.”

You realize Taehyung must have told him what happened. You grab Jungkook’s wrist and bring him to your couch, guiding him down as you sit down beside him.

“I’m fine, Jungkook. Perfectly fine. He just asked me out again and I said no. Nothing else happened.”

Jungkook looks relieved. Then he turns back to you.

“Again? You know him?”

“It’s… no, not really. Just some guy.”

You avoid his eyes, picking at a thread on your jeans. He puts his hand on yours.

“Tell me.”

“It’s no one. You don’t know him.”

“Y/N…”

You sigh. “It’s that guy you saw hanging out in front of the convenience store. He had asked me out back then and somehow found me at the coffee shop today. But don’t worry, I told him…” You pause when you notice his eyes clouding over, seemingly in a trance as he stands up, hands tightening into a fist.

“Jungkook?”

“It was the same guy? You’re sure?” He’s looking at you but you know he doesn’t see you. He sees him.

You stand up to face him directly, trying to wade through the fog in his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, Jungkook. He won’t—“ He doesn’t wait for you to finish as he pulls his hood over his head, slamming your door behind him.

You run out into the hall but he’s already gone.

Jungkook isn’t responding to your texts or calls. You’ve spent the last two and a half hours walking the streets trying to find him, terrified he might do something incredibly dangerous.

He has a habit of being overprotective and you’re worried he might land himself in the hospital again.

Or worse.

You scan every possible spot he may be, checking in with Taehyung every few minutes ever since you asked him to join the search, but so far neither of you have had any luck.

It’s cold and you can’t stop the disturbing thoughts, the ones with a badly hurt Jungkook. You’re hoping Jungkook doesn’t find him. That asshole is undoubtedly dangerous and if he happens to be with the thugs he usually surrounds himself with, you can’t bear to imagine what they’d do to Jungkook.

A few more hours pass and Taehyung’s roommate forces him to come home, leaving you to continue the search on your own.

You feel helpless and completely alone, letting your feet guide you as you continue to beg the universe to let you find Jungkook safe and sound.

Without realizing it, you’re in the middle of the park where you and Jungkook first met. You look up, almost pleading by now and feel droplets hit your face. You didn’t even realize it was raining.

“Y/N…?”

You turn around to see Jungkook standing a few metres away. Without warning you cry out, hot tears free falling onto your cheeks. Through the tears, you can only see the outline of Jungkook standing in the moon light and wonder if he is really there or if he’s just a beautiful mirage.

“Where were you,” you shout through the tears, nearly wailing at this point. “Why didn’t you answer my calls, idiot? I thought you…you might…”

Jungkook had started walking towards you at some point because his arms are now wrapped around you, his hand cradling your head against his chest. “Shhh, I’m here.”

“I thought you might…might be hurt,” you mutter between breaths, your tears spilling onto his chest and you’re not sure if he even understands what you’re saying.

“I’m ok. Really.”

You sniffle, and Jungkook tilts his head back to look at you. But you immediately pull your arms out from his hug and punch him on the chest. “You jerk, you could have—“

You pause mid sentence when you notice Jungkook wince in pain, far more than you would have expected. You blink a few times and notice the cut on his lip. His eye also seems quite a bit more red and swollen than you remember.

You pull back and stare at him. Although he attempts a smile, it doesn’t fool you, especially when the action causes his cheek to twitch.

“What happened, Jungkook?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking away now. “Nothing.”

You tilt his face back to you and run your finger over his cut lip. His lip twitches though you know he’s trying to keep a brave face. You trace up to his eye and catch another flinch, and the very beginnings of a bruise.

“You’re hurt.”

“You should see the other guy.”

It takes quite a bit of convincing to get Jungkook back into your apartment. He keeps insisting he can clean himself up and you know it’s because it’s past midnight now.

But you can’t let him take care of himself. Especially when you’re the reason he’s hurt.

Jungkook is sitting on your couch and looking the least comfortable you’ve ever seen him, his leg bouncing so fast you fear he may take off.

“Stay still. I need to get the ointment on your lip or it’ll scar.”

“Wouldn’t I look handsome with a scar?”

Jungkook laughs when you huff in annoyance, but immediately winces in pain, reaching for the cut.

“You’re lucky your lip ring wasn’t ripped out, Jungkook. I can’t believe you would stoop to violence.”

You’re leaning into him now, tilting his chin up so you can get a closer look at the cut.

You notice your heart racing and can’t figure out why. Then you realize Jungkook is staring at you.

“It might be easier for me if you close your eyes.”

“Who says I want this to be easy?”

Groaning, you leave the couch, returning a few seconds later with a bag of frozen peas. You press it against his blackening eye, a little carelessly given his last comment.

“Such gentle bedside manner,” Jungkook mutters, taking the peas from your hands and gently pressing it against his eye.

“Shut up.”

You stand back and survey his face, noticing a crusted cut above his eye. Grabbing the wet towel, you start wiping it off when he grabs your wrist.

“You’re shivering.”

“Hmm?”

Looking down, for the first time you notice you’re drenched, having been far more preoccupied with getting Jungkook cleaned up.

He reaches over and pushes a wet strand from your eyes. You’re staring at him now, swallowing when he wipes away a droplet from your cheek.

“Maybe you want to change into something warmer?”

“Yeah, ok. Give me one sec,” you reply, jumping up to grab a change of clothes. You pause mid-step and look back. “I’ll bring you the hoodie you left last time.”

You let him hit the shower first, standing back in awe when he emerges 20 minutes later in his old hoodie (it’s yours now, but whatever) and a pair of your baggy sweats. He really looks exceptional in sweats, you think to yourself. When he catches you staring, you clear your throat.

“Right. My turn now.”

His reaction to you after your shower is not nearly as… complimentary. You had grabbed the first pair of clothes in your drawer and maybe that was a mistake.

“Duckies?” He looks like he’s fighting back a laugh, but you don’t see anything wrong with the pyjama set. “It looks like someone barfed ducks on you.”

“What? These are normal pyjamas,” you reply, eyes narrowing. “What do you wear? Ironman shorts?”

A grown man is now giggling in your living room. You’re livid.

“How did you know I was wearing Ironman shorts? Did you peek?”

“What the heck? Seriously?” Ease sets in again as you laugh freely, walking over to playfully shove him. He winces in pain again, prompting you to stare at him. “Are you hurt here too?”

You place your hand on his chest and slide it over to where you shoved him. He sharply inhales, the action answer enough for you. You blink a few times and consider the options before landing on one. You realize you need to go with the one that feels the least comfortable.

“Take it off,” you say, vaguely gesturing to his chest.

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” you repeat, grabbing the layer covering his top half. “I need to see what I’m working with.”

“What, again? You really like making me take my clothes off, huh?”

Despite the annoyed groan you let out, you’re actually grateful for his attempt at lightening the mood.

He struggles for a few moments but manages to remove the hoodie with your help. Once it’s completely off, you can’t help but stare at his chest.

“What the fuck, Jungkook. Your boobs are bigger than mine.”

When you look up, you expect to be received by a smug grin or at least a smirk. But he seems to be avoiding your eyes, his ears turning an impressive shade of red.

Instead of teasing him further, you lean in to examine the injuries. Thankfully it’s not as bad as you feared. There is definitely the beginnings of bruising, but nothing major.

You run your hand over the bruised spot on his chest to check for swelling, noticing him jump a little.

“Too cold?”

He nods.

Rubbing your hands together, you try again, resting a fingertip on his skin. He looks up at you and nods. You slide your hand lower to his ribs and Jungkook groans in response. The bruising is a bit worse there and you decide to apply an ice pack to reduce the risk of further swelling.

Unfortunately, ice is not very comfortable.

Every time your hand glides over his chest, he jumps, pulling away from your touch.

“I need to hold this in place for it to work.”

“Fine. Be quick.”

He inhales but the second your hand touches his chest, he jumps again.

“Sorry, try it again.”

You place your hand on his chest again and notice him tensing his body, his abs distracting you momentarily. As you glide it over to his bruised rib, you hear his muffled groans. A few minutes pass as you continue holding on, noticing how cute he looks with his eyes squeezed shut and his self restraint as he bites his lip, willing himself to endure a bit longer.

You let go one hand to reach for his face when you feel him grab your other wrist again.

With his eyes still shut, he whispers so low you almost don’t hear it. “How much longer?”

You blink at him and when you don’t respond, his eyes flutter open.

Suddenly there isn’t enough air. His breath sounds shallow and you wonder if yours sounds the same. With how close he is, you almost forget he asked you a question.

Clearing your throat, you glance into his eyes momentarily before averting your gaze to his hand wrapped around yours. “A few more minutes. Think you can hang in there a bit longer, hmm?”

He sighs, grip loosening but staying where it is. You chance a glance at him again and he is looking at you. The intensity of his gaze runs through you, an intensity you assume stems from his pain. Pain you wish you could take away.

Your eyes drift to his chest and your mind to somewhere further away. You would have never guessed he looks like that under all those baggy clothes. He’s always been so shy about showing his body, and now you can’t help wondering why.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of thumping. Jungkook’s leg is bouncing again and you reach over to rest your free hand on his leg. Your eyes meet and he gives you a small smile before looking away.

You lift the ice pack and press it higher. He hisses, biting his lip again, so hard you fear he may draw blood. Suddenly his hand squeezes yours again, eyes snapping shut. “Ok, enough, Y/N. I can’t take it any more.”

You exhale the breath you’d been holding, removing the ice pack from him. “Ok, fine. I guess that’s enough.”

A shiver passes through him and you watch as he rubs his arm, looking up at you with a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”

As you wrap up the ice pack, Jungkook reaches over you to grab his hoodie. With his face so close to yours, you notice how long his eyelashes are, and how cute his nose looks sitting above his pretty lips.

You quickly look away and wait for him to put on his hoodie. Once it’s on, you look at him again. He looks really tired, the very picture of how you feel.

“You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Jungkook quirks his brow and then shakes his head, pushing himself off the couch very slowly. “I’ll be way more comfortable in my own bed.”

You quickly run to your door, covering it up with your body. “Absolutely no way I’m letting you walk home in this condition. Besides, I’m taking you to the doctor first thing in the morning.”

Jungkook reaches behind you but in his exhaustion he ends up collapsing onto you. You let him lean on your shoulder, cradling his head as you imagine what he’s been through.

He slowly wraps his arms around you, and you two stay like that for a little while longer, standing perfectly still in each other’s arms. These last several hours have been hell.

“Ok fine, I’ll sleep here,” he whispers onto your shoulder, inhaling deeply before pulling away. “But I’ll take the couch.”

You manage to convince Jungkook to share the bed with you, something that Jungkook fights you on even as you’re guiding him under the covers. But you insist, especially since it means he can tell you immediately if he feels worse.

After you tuck him in, you leave for the washroom. When you return, Jungkook is already asleep.

You chuckle when you notice the little pillow barrier he built between you two. You flip off the light and get into bed, leaning over the barrier to give Jungkook the lightest kiss on the head you can manage. “Love ya, dork,” you whisper with a smile, flipping onto your side.

Before long you’re fast asleep. He chances a look over the barrier and confirms it.

Sighing, he lies back down, staring at the ceiling.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You toss in bed, realizing you’re now awake. With a few blinks to adjust to the darkness of the room, you tilt your head up and catch the red glare from your clock. 3:42am.

Not morning yet.

Blinking some more, memories of this night float to the front of your mind.

With the utmost care, you twist towards the other side. The breath you’d been holding releases as you see Jungkook laying peacefully beside you.

It wasn’t a dream. He’s still here.

You prop up on your elbow as you lean towards him, reaching over the pillow partition to brush a strand that has fallen over his face. He stirs a little, one hand coming over his stomach as the other twitches under the covers.

You watch him breathe.

In and out.

He’s such an idiot.

You shiver as that thought hits you. The thought of what could have happened to him.

Behind that rough exterior lies the gentlest person you know.

To the world, he is the bad boy. The tattoos and face piercings. The bruises on his knuckles from boxing. The sound of his motorcycle in the dead of night.

To you, he is the only good thing in your world. The bunny nose scrunches and elmo giggles. The giant hugs when you have to let go first. And the way he always shows up when you need him.

When you two first met, your father warned you away from him. He went so far as to threaten disowning you.

Well. Turns out it wasn’t just a threat. And when the final bell rang, you chose Jungkook.

He has no clue, though. He just knows you as that annoying rich girl who now struggles to make ends meet.

And he’s always been way too considerate to ask what happened. Instead, he offers his ramen whenever you come over and always gets two cups of Starbucks.

And he doesn’t need to know. All that matters is he is the best friend you could ever ask for. The one person who has stood by you through it all.

And the only person you have ever been in love with.

You only wish you could be brave enough to tell him that.

Maybe you could…

You feel an urge to lean over and kiss his forehead.

That should be ok, right?

You stare at him a bit longer, watching his chest rise and fall, soft sounds escaping his lips.

You lean across and rest your hand at his side, taking care not to touch him.

He is still as night itself.

You dip down and let your lips hover over his forehead.

His eyes are closed. Even with his eyes closed, he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

You wish he could see it too.

It’s comical, actually, because he truly is beautiful. But when you told him so, he made some offhanded comment about Taehyung being the handsome one and asked you not to lie. You just brushed it off but at this moment it bothers you. What does he mean?

Look at his cute lil nose.

If you had a nickel for every time you wanted to boop it, you’d be rich again.

And those perfectly pouty lips. Like rose petals on top of each other. You’ve always wondered how…

Only a split second and suddenly your lips are on his. Just the gentlest touch but it’s enough.

You gasp the slightest bit before you pull away, embarrassed and ashamed. But your hand remains planted at his side. When you look back you see Jungkook’s fingers circled around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jungkook’s eyes are still closed but he’s smirking now. With a quick tug at your wrist you fall on top of him and he groans, prompting you to prop yourself up again.

“Jungkook—,” you gasp but his other hand pulls you down, your lips crashing onto his again. He sighs against your lips and then kisses you, soft and hard all at once. You smile, kissing him back. When you finally pull away, his eyes are still shut.

“If this is a dream,” he murmurs, his hand making its way up your back. “I’m never waking up again.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper again, sliding your hand up his chest and he groans when you touch a sore spot, “oh, sorry,” you add, glancing down.

He hisses, pulling you onto him and wrapping his arms around you. “Hold me. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

You press a kiss against his chest before snuggling into him.

Then it hits you.

Just for tonight.

You wonder if he wants this to be a one-off thing.

Or he could still be half asleep.

Worries cloud your mind as his arms envelope you. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.

You inhale deeply and lift your head a bit. “Just for tonight… is that what you want?”

He sighs, pulling you in tighter. “I want this forever. Just you and me.”

You notice he hasn’t said your name once. Maybe he is still dazed. You did give him some pretty strong painkillers.

He groans again and you lift your head. “Maybe you could…,” he starts and when he doesn’t say anything else you rest your head again.

“Wha—,” you exclaim as Jungkook then pulls you across him, dragging you over his body to his other side, the less bruised one.

“There,” he says, kicking away the pillows and nestling himself into the centre of the bed. “This is perfect. You comfy?” He looks down at you with the biggest smile and warmth spreads across your chest. You can only nod. He chuckles, pulling you in tighter.

And somehow you fall asleep like that.

Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Morning comes much too soon.

You blink open your eyes to white and yellow haze. The blinds must be drawn.

Fear creeps up your throat as you run your hand across the bed. The tangle of white sheets are just that. Sheets.

He’s gone.

The doubts start to swirl in your head as you remember what he said.

Just for tonight.

He probably regrets it. The kiss. The cuddling. Everything.

Was it too much? Are you too much?

Lost in your own world, you don’t hear the sound of footsteps growing louder as they approach.

Or the sound of something hitting your night table.

But you do feel the arms that snake around you, a hard body gently setting against yours, and warm breath on your neck.

“Mmm,” he hums, kissing your neck, “time to eat.”

When you open your eyes, Jungkook is staring at you. Contrary to the soft and easy way he spoke, there is uncertainty in his eyes. A searching look. A car waiting for a green light.

And it hits you.

He’s just as worried as you are. This is new territory you two are exploring.

He opens his mouth then shuts it, his teeth peeking out to catch on his lip ring. You watch, fascinated, as you wait for him to speak.

He comes in a bit closer then hesitates. “Is this ok? Should I leave? I didn’t know if what happened last night—“

You lift your head and kiss his nose. “More than ok. I want you to stay.” And just like magic, the lost look disappears. His nose scrunches up as he smiles down at you.

“Hungry?”

“Mhmm.”

He helps you up and pulls the sheets from your legs. You can’t help noticing the ease with which he’s moving.

“You seem a lot better than I expected. You’re not hurting still?” When he gives you a quizzical look, you gesture to his chest and ribs. His eyes widen and then he grins.

“I’m JK, remember? Here, I made these special,” he replies, setting a plate of pancakes on your lap. He then pushes off the blanket and sits next to you, setting a plate in front of him. “Do you wanna… maybe take a shower with me after this?”

You nearly choke on your bite, pancake spraying all over the bedspread. “What?” You manage to turn to him and he’s smirking at you.

“I ran home to check on Bam before you woke up and now I’m kinda sweaty. And too tired to wash myself,” he replies, throwing in a quick wink that almost stops your heart, “Don’t you wanna help me wash?”

You groan. Jungkook might be the best person you know but he’s also the most annoying.

Maybe that’s why you two are a perfect match.

“Here,” he says, reaching over to grab the cups from the tray. “Thirsty?”

“Yep,” you reply, taking the cup he’s holding out to you. You sniff it.

“Wait, what is this?”

Jungkook giggles as he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Try it.”

You bring it closer but one sip has you gagging and nearly spitting it out. “Fuck, Jungkook, why?”

He’s laughing, but the moment you look back at him, his expression turns serious. “What? You drink coffee for Tae but not me? I see how it is.”

He starts to get up but you grab his arm. “One sip! I had one fucking sip! You can’t possibly be angry about that,” you yell back, reaching for him. When he turns back around, he’s grinning.

Then he holds out his own cup. You eye it suspiciously and he laughs. “This was yours,” he says, smiling, “It’s hot chocolate. Your favourite.”

He swaps the two cups and pulls you in for a hug.

“And you’re my favourite. I love you, Y/N.”

You’re startled by how suddenly and easily those words fall from his lips. Then you realize you might not have imagined those same words last night.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his hug and the way it engulfs you in a feeling of safety and security. The way Jungkook always makes you feel.

“I love you too, dork.”

so…? did you like it? ♡

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #stay #lilo fics

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incognit0slut · 6 months

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (15)

She ever thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer is determined to find her whereabouts. wc: 3.5k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

A/n: I want to thank everyone for sticking to this series, don’t worry, I didn’t forget it, life has just been weird lately😔 Also I want to mention there’s like 5 parts left? I think

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"REID, NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT."

Spencer wasn't sure how many times he heard those words. He knew they were told to bring him comfort, something his team members kept on reciting, yet a sense of skepticism gnawed at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were nothing more than lies. How could he not when the only thing he could do was blame himself for what happened?

His shoulders slumped, his eyes were filled with anguish, and his heart held a heavy burden of guilt.

He should've deduced the real Unsub.

He should've been the one keeping her safe.

You also should've never left her fucking house, you idiot.

He hated swearing, even if it was in his own mind—which, truthfully, was so much worse considering he despised being trapped in his own head. Possessing a psychology degree enabled him to understand the detrimental effects of being trapped within one's own thoughts, yet he couldn't escape the clutches of his own mind. The knowledge of this predicament weighed heavily on him, a cruel irony that he understood all too well.

"Pretty boy, are you even listening to me?"

He was, he just didn't want to respond. Morgan was the third person to say those words to him. The first came from JJ, who was the first one to assure him when he had a panic attack at the warehouse. Second was from Prentiss, who he met when he rushed to Y/n's house after collecting himself. And now Morgan was cornering him at the hospital as they waited for Sandy, laid in one of the rooms, to recover from her concussion.

"Reid."

"I heard you," he snapped. Then a thought occurred to him at Morgan's sudden knowledge of his involvement with their witness. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"The reason why I'm acting this way." He had to elaborate when Morgan merely raised his eyebrows. "Why I'm... blaming myself so much."

"Everyone knows you're involved with her. Heck, I knew it the first time we met her that night. Remember that? You pretended you didn't know her," Morgan recalled. "You weren't as subtle as you think."

God, that night seemed like it happened yesterday. He couldn't believe how much had happened, and to think she was just a stranger when he first met her, a stranger he would never see again... now all he could think about was her. Her smile. Her safety. His stomach churned. The guilt he felt was a relentless, gnawing ache that refused to let go.

Morgan suddenly pulled him. His sudden, determined grip propelled him toward the vending machine stationed at the far end of the hospital corridor. Irritated, he couldn't help but drag his feet along the floor. "What are you doing?"

"You need coffee," Morgan replied, "you function better with caffeine in your system."

"We need to wait for Sandy—"

"She's not going anywhere, Kid. There's no use hovering in front of her door now."

Reluctantly, Spencer gave in. He allowed his friend to pour a cup of coffee; the warmth and aroma offering a small comfort amidst the hospital's stark surroundings. Slowly, with a nod of gratitude, he accepted the cup from his outstretched hand.

"How are you holding up?" Morgan asked.

Spencer took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding to the question. "It's hard to process everything."

A heavy silence hung between them. Morgan's sigh broke the stillness, and he began, "Look, it's not—"

But Spencer cut him off, his voice tinged with guilt and self-blame. "Not my fault?" he said with a mix of frustration and anguish. "Morgan, I was there before it happened. I was at her house before I left to check the warehouse, just to step into his trap. The Unsub managed to pass through Officer Anderson and hurt her closest friend at the same time. If I was still there..."

"Reid, it's not about placing blame. You couldn't have known what would happen. The Unsub's actions were calculated and malicious, even if you had stayed, we can't predict how events would have unfolded." Morgan gave him a pointed look. "Blaming yourself won't help her, and it won't help you either."

Spencer's head shook with regret as he leaned against the cool hospital wall, his thoughts consumed by the painful memories of that night. "I hurt her," he confessed, his voice filled with remorse. "My words were hurtful, and so were my actions, and the thought of... the thought of her being in danger with the last thought of me—"

"We'll find her," Morgan assured him. "And when we do, you'll apologize to her for whatever happened."

Spencer gazed at him with a sense of desperation. In that instant, he unearthed a deep, previously unrecognized truth buried within his heart. It was a stark revelation, an understanding that struck him like a bolt of lightning amidst the storm of emotions he was weathering.

For the first time, he comprehended the true extent of his feelings. Until now, her presence in his life had been a catalyst, a spur-of-a-moment he never expected. He had taken her warmth for granted, never fully appreciating the depth of his attachment to her.

However, the threat to her safety had shattered his complacency. The fear of losing her, coupled with the regret of leaving their last interaction on such a bitter note, had awakened a realization within him. It hit him with a force that was as terrifying as it was enlightening. It was a moment of clarity, a realization that his feelings were far more significant than he had ever allowed himself to admit.

"You really like her, don't you?"

Spencer looked up, but before he could respond, his brief moment of vulnerability was abruptly interrupted by a sudden commotion. Without a second thought, he hastily left his coffee on a nearby chair and rushed toward the end of the hallway, Morgan following closely behind, as a doctor rushed into Sandy's room.

Between the flurry of medical staff, Spencer spotted a passing nurse and stepped into her line of vision. His voice was urgent, laced with concern as he asked, "What happened?"

The nurse delivered the news, "She's gaining consciousness," before swiftly disappearing into the room.

"We'll get some answers," Morgan reassured him from behind. "Don't worry, Reid, we'll find her."

Spencer nodded, his heart filled with a renewed sense of determination. The fact that Sandy had woken up was a glimmer of hope. It wasn't until a few minutes later the doctor emerged from the room, regarding the two men waiting in front of the door.

"She's awake and stable, but we'll need to monitor her for any potential complications." After a brief pause, the doctor continued, "It's apparent that she's still quite shaken. I would recommend that only one of you Agents speak with her."

They both nodded in agreement as the doctor left. Morgan turned toward Spencer. "You should talk to her."

He hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Morgan confirmed. "I'll go check on Oliver in the meantime."

Spencer's thoughts swirled with unease at the mention of Oliver, their suspected Unsub who had turned out to be a pawn in a larger scheme, who was lying unconscious on another floor. He nodded, and as Morgan walked away, he slowly gathered himself and entered the room.

Stark, white walls greeted him as he stepped inside, followed by the beeping sound of the monitors rhythmically punctuating the silence. Sandy lay in the bed, a fragile figure amidst the pristine white sheets. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling as he called out to her.

"Sandy?" Spencer carefully addressed her, observing the way she shifted on the bed before her gaze slowly met his. "I'm Dr. Spencer—"

"Reid," she finished for him, locking her gaze onto his with a surprising familiarity. "You're the FBI agent she's been talking about."

A moment of surprise shot through him, the realization that she had been talking about him caught him off guard. "She told you about me?"

"On a few occasions," she confessed, and then her gaze sharpened as she looked at him. "You hurt her."

Spencer's heart sank deeper, a heavy burden of guilt weighing him down. "What did she say?"

"She never really told us why she looked so sad that night, and considering you were mostly the topic of conversation when I was with her, I just assumed you had something to do with her mood swings."

His guilt deepened, yet he couldn't help but notice Sandy's choice of words. "Us? You both weren't alone?"

Sandy's gaze held a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What happened?" she pressed instead, her brows furrowing. "What happened after I passed out?"

Spencer took a hesitant step closer to the bed. "What do you remember?"

"I remember inhaling something disgusting."

He nodded gravely. "We suspect the Unsub used Chloroform on you."

Sandy's furrowed brow reflected both her confusion and unease. "What's an Unsub?"

"Unknown Subject, it's a term used when we haven't yet identified a suspect in a crime."

A heavy silence enveloped the room as Sandy absorbed the information. Her thoughts churned, and a growing sense of unease gnawed at her. A thought suddenly hit her. She glanced around the room, her anxiety mounting in the absence of her friend.

The question escaped her lips with an anxious edge to her voice. "Where's Y/n?"

Sandy didn't like the expression that crossed Spencer's face. It was a look that confirmed her worst suspicions, and a wave of dread washed over her as she braced herself for what he was about to say.

"We don't have that information," Spencer confessed, and the shock in her widened eyes was unmistakable. Her lips quivered as her thoughts raced, grappling with the gravity of the situation. She found herself haunted by guilt that this had somehow happened because of her.

"It's my fault," she whispered, her voice a mere breath, but the weight of her confession carried regret.

Spencer now understood what Morgan meant about avoiding self-blame. "It's not your fault," he reiterated. "Listen, there's no use in blaming yourself, what you can do is help us by recalling what you remembered that night."

Sandy's gaze remained troubled, but she eventually opened up about what had transpired, something he didn't see coming.

"I- It was Eric," she admitted, her voice trembling with the admission. "Eric came with me to her house."

Spencer was struck by shock and disbelief, his mind racing to process this revelation.

"Eric Adler?"

She nodded in confirmation, and his world collapsed.

Spencer wasn't perfect. He knew that, like anyone else, he could make mistakes. Typically, he accepted his humanity and the occasional errors that came with it. However, now was not the time for him to make any mistakes, not when her life hung on the line.

He felt like a complete idiot. He was renowned for his intellect and now it seemed as if his stupidity was mocking him. The realization of his own oversight infuriated him and a storm of anger surged through his veins. He was mad at himself, seething with frustration. He hastily fished out his phone and sent a message to Garcia.

Find everything you can on Eric Adler. Now.

Turning his gaze back to Sandy, his features shifted to a more grave demeanor. The urgency in his voice was palpable.

"Tell me everything you know."

Her head was spinning. Y/n groaned at the relentless ache throbbing inside her head. It felt as though a sledgehammer was pounding her skull, every throb sending ripples of pain through her. Her body felt heavy, each limb an effort to move, and her eyelids seemed to be fused.

She managed to shift, and it was at that moment, as her fingers brushed against the coarse bedcover, that she realized she was lying on what appeared to be a bed. The mattress beneath her was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos inside her head. She shifted again, and after countless attempts, she finally managed to blink her eyes open.

"Took you long enough, Sleeping Beauty."

The voice sent a jolt of panic surging through her, eyes widening as she strained to focus on her surroundings. The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint, flickering glow of an old lamp perched on top of a crate. Occasional beams of moonlight pierced through the dusty window panes, casting eerie, uneven patterns on the wooden floor.

The unmistakable scent of hay filled her senses, reinforcing the realization that she was in an old, rustic barn, long past its days of use. The walls, rough and weathered, seemed to close in on her, the space surprisingly narrow with the mattress beneath her positioned by the floor.

But that wasn't what surprised her the most. It was Eric, seated on a wooden chair that had clearly seen better days, watching her intensely with a smile on his face.

"If you hadn't woke up earlier, I would have resorted to my own methods," his smile looked even more ominous. "And I can assure you, you wouldn't have liked it."

Her wide eyes remained fixed on him. What happened to her kind coworker? Or her good friend? This was an entirely different man that she knew of. The eerie smile, so out of place in their past interactions, was etched onto his face like a sinister mask.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he pondered, leaning forward, his voice carrying an unsettling calmness. In his hand, she now realized, was a glinting knife, pointed at her way. "It's just me, Y/n, I'm no stranger to you."

He wasn't a stranger then, but he certainly was now. She stared at him, a creeping realization dawning as she slowly sat up, her fingers brushing against something cold and unyielding, and her heart sank.

"I wouldn't move too much if I were you."

Her eyes moved to the chain holding her, the metal bolted securely into the wall. It was a thick, unforgiving shackle, the links rough against her skin, the very sight of it sent shivers down her spine. Fear took a firm hold of her, like a vice squeezing her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She trembled, her voice shaking as she finally managed to speak, "W-Why are you doing this?"

"You're seriously questioning me when you should be thanking me instead?"

Her voice wavered as she responded, her fear making way for a touch of anger. "Thanking you for what? Murdering people?"

"They weren't innocent,” he spat, his anger flaring as he glared at her. "You should know better than to act as if you didn't want them dead."

"I didn't," she assured him.

"You resented them."

She let out a shaky breath. "...maybe, but I would never wish any of them harm." Then she choked out, "Why are you doing this, Eric?"

His features softened, his gaze locked onto hers as he leaned closer. "You really want to know the reason?" He held her gaze with a disturbing tenderness as he whispered, "Because I love you, Sweetheart."

Her heart pounded as his words hung in the air. "No, you don't," she quickly responded, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "If you did, you wouldn't have—"

"I said," he pressed on, the knife still pointing toward her, his eyes locked onto hers with an eerie intensity. "Because I love you."

She knew it was best not to provoke someone holding a knife. Instead, she carefully asked, her voice trembling, "Since when?"

"Ever since you started working with us," he replied with a smile that felt more disconcerting than affectionate. "You've always been very special to me."

"Why... why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I was scared of rejection, I guess. You never took any interest in me, and surprisingly I was fine with that, so the only way I could care for you was to be your friend." He grinned, his smile devoid of any warmth. "And kill people who hurt you, of course."

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and streaming down her face. Her trembling lips caught them, the taste of her own despair lingering on her tongue, a bitter flavor that seemed to confine the darkness of the moment.

"Oh, stop crying. They were never good enough for you," he chided. He got up and started to pace in front of her, his words steeped in a delusional justification for his actions. "Your scumbag of an ex? He should've seen it coming. That pervert of a lawyer? Should've cut him into pieces. And Jamison? Well, I honestly think I was doing a favor for everyone who hated him."

He gazed at her with a mixture of pity and disdain as she continued to cry, his expression an eerie blend of false sympathy. "Don't worry, I didn't kill them all..." He let out a sigh. "I took pity on Oliver."

"W-What did you do to him?" She cried, her voice breaking with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Gave him a few stabs, but nothing too serious," he replied casually, waving the knife through the air as if discussing a minor inconvenience. "He'll be fine."

Her heart sank at his callous response. "I thought you grew up together."

"I lied about not being close with him the other day, you know? We were best friends, actually. But that's another story to tell," he admitted, his words revealing a chilling aspect of his twisted psyche. He then glared at her, a mix of frustration and hostility in his eyes. "You seriously need to stop looking at me like that. I spared him, it was only a few stabs."

Anger surged within her, ignited by his disturbingly casual demeanor, and she found herself unable to suppress her mounting fury any longer. "You're fucking sick," she spat.

He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he loomed closer. "You shouldn't talk to me like that," he emphasized, pointing the knife at her once more. "You're chained to the wall, I could do anything to you."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic beat of her heart, though the horror still gripped her like a vice. Her face was etched with a stark, unmistakable expression of fear and disbelief. He rolled his eyes.

"Don't act so scared now, I won't do anything—well, not now, at least," he stated with a laugh, taking a step back, as if he were granting her some temporary respite. "For now... I have yet to finish my vengeance for you."

"V- Vengeance? You think of them as vengeance?" She asked in disbelief. "Oliver didn't even hurt me."

"He kept pestering you when you clearly weren't interested in him, he needed a little lesson," he explained, a chilling justification in his tone. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. "But there is one person who has hurt you recently, and I think we both know who that is."

His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, filling her with a growing sense of dread. Her eyes widened, her voice heavy with desperation. "No! Eric, no, please, don't hurt him—"

"He's not good for you, Y/n. He never will be."

"Eric! Please!" She was beginning to wail, her pleas filled with anguish and despair, as she felt the walls of her world closing in on her. The chains rattled ominously when she moved. "Please..."

"I need to punish him, Sweetheart, he hurt you," he said with a chilling detachment. He gave her a pitiful look. "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows."

"Please—Please don't, Eric," She pleaded desperately, her voice shaking with an overwhelming fear. "No..." She shook her head and sobbed, "Don't h-hurt him... please..."

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, and the disturbing determination in his gaze made it clear that he had made up his mind. He turned around, leaving her in a state of helpless dread. "I'll see you later," he added with a sinister remark. "Don't cry too much while I visit your FBI boyfriend."

As he walked away, the barn's shadows seemed to close in around her. She did exactly the opposite—she relentlessly cried herself to sleep, seeking solace in the safety of her dreams, however fleeting, as she yearned for an end to this nightmare that had somehow become her reality.

>> NEXT PART

a/n: y'all can stop cursing poor Oliver now😭

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 5 months

Text

concert, part 1

part 1 here (cw: age gap)

👑 (king): can I come pick you up? Me: yeah, sure, I’m almost ready 👑 (king): good, be there in 10

I look down at his text, smiling to myself, then I get myself ready. Checking my makeup, checking if I have everything in my little bag. Then I wait for him, nervously tapping my foot, thinking about our interactions over the last week.

I haven't seen him since the bar, we've just been texting and my god. He isn’t the biggest texter, but he never fails to answer a single one of my messages. Setting a new standard for sure.

My first message he answered within five minutes, making it a deal and asking me for the details on the concert. And then I had to send him all of my favourite songs, not just by Lorna Shore, but all the bands I talked about that he didn’t yet know. We were just talking about all the topics we could think about.

Like I wanted to know what accent it was that laced through his words when talking English and he told me that he actually was from Austria. I’ve never met someone who was from this country, so naturally I was curious. Especially why he lived here then and didn’t go back to Austria for his leave, which he just answered with a simple “I don’t have anything to go back to.” I didn’t want to pry, so I left it at that.

And he asked me what I did for a living and all my little hobbies. I could talk about those all day long, so there was a lot of back and forth (maybe a little bit more back from me than it was forth from him). I still was curious about his job as well, but I was too afraid to be called nosy again.

By the third day I got confident enough to accompany my messages with pictures. And no, not that kind of pictures. I just snap moments during my day and just them to him. My morning coffee, some scenery from my commute, a screengrab from the game I’m playing in the evening. Because I want to show what’s going on during my day.

It’s nice. It feels nice to talk to him. And we’re still kind of shy, holding back, but some of the texts even get flirty. My favourite thing to do during last week was to call him old every chance I got. Just to get a rise out of him.

I can’t help but feel that the last message has a double entendre. Like I should be the one worrying about keeping up. With him.

The doorbell rings and I go to open my door. It swings open and I almost rear back when his hulking figure towers over me. My god, I have forgotten how huge he is. I mean, I only saw it once when he got up from the table.

He's wearing the same worn leatherjacket and a shirt underneath. A Lorna Shore shirt. He got it right on time for the concert. I know because he sent me a picture when the package arrived.

"Hi.", I say looking up at him.

"Hi yourself.", he answers with a smile. "Looking good."

"Thanks.", I say as I do a little twirl for him, my skirt swaying while I do the turn. When I land on my two feet again, my DocMartens stomping onto the floor, I see his gaze wander up my body.

His lids are hooded, his mouth is slightly opened and I can see the row of strong teeth blink through. Our eyes meet and I feel a zap of excitement running down my spine. It just got harder to breathe. Because he looks at me like I would taste good. It’s actually making me a bit nervous. And I don’t think anybody ever looked at me like that.

“What?”, I throw in his direction, swaying from one foot to the other.

"Nothing…” is all he says, shaking his head. But it doesn’t feel like nothing. “Come on, let's get going. You have the tickets?", he asks.

I point at the little bag clasped to my belt. "Got everything in here." He nods and gestures me to exit the flat. I do so and lock the door behind me, following him down to the street where his car is parked.

It’s a Mercedes G-wagon. A fucking G-wagon. I don’t know which car I suspected, but I guess not this one. Although it makes sense when I see him right next to it. The kind of military look of the car, the colour (black, of course), it being quite an expensive brand, but also an older model, judging from the wear on the outside. Also a spacious enough car for a big man like him.

He stops at the passenger side and opens the door for me. And I can't help but melt a little. The gentlemanly gesture with him looking just like he looks. The big stature, the worn leatherjacket with the tattooed hands showing, the slight aura of danger around him that makes much more sense since I know he’s a soldier, that part of him not fully vanishing even when he’s on leave. The timid smile he gives me when I thank him for holding the door open for me emphasizing the contrast between his hard looking exterior and the softer core.

He waits for me to climb up into the seat, shutting the door for me and going around the car, to the driver's side. I snuggle into the leather of the car seat and look around a bit. His scent engulfs me, a warm, manly note, and I suppress a sigh. This man is just too much, and I'm going to a concert with him.

He gets in and starts the car which also turns on the sound system and a flurry of guitar sounds, drums and the distinguished voice of Chuck Schuldiner blasts from the speakers. I recognize the song instantly. "Oh, I love Spirit Crusher. The whole album actually."

He grins at me. "I thought so, that's why I put it on." He hands me the CD sleeve. "I bought this when I was like... maybe 16 or 17?"

"Oh my god, really?", I exclaim, inspecting the case. I turn to him pointing at the release date on the back, a mischievous grin forming on my lips. "That's the year I was born."

He sighs and rolls his eyes, snatching the CD case from me. "Yeah, yeah, we've already established that I'm old, ancient even." I bite back a laugh, doing a bad job at it. He leans forward, inching closer to my face. “Now what’s so funny, huh?”

I shake my head still grinning. “Nothing.” I pause for effect. “Old man.”, I add teasingly.

His gaze is burning into me. “Uh-huh, ain’t that right.” The slightly threatening undertone is not lost on me and it makes me shift in my seat.

He doesn’t say anything else, just pulls out of the parking space, and drives us to the concert location. The atmosphere gets a little bit more relaxed when he asks me about how work has been today (because we haven’t texted about that yet). I go on a rant because work really has been kicking my ass lately and my boss keeps getting on my nerves. So the car ride to the venue is filled with me explaining all of the details of what’s going on which would’ve have been too much to type out.

I’m still complaining about my boss’s antics when we enter the tall concert building. I show our tickets to the security guys at the entrance and they check us for stuff that you can’t bring into the venue. Well, they check me without hesitation, the security lady patting me down and taking a look into the little bag I have with me.

The security guy that has the pleasure of checking him hesitates for more than just a bit and I can see the little grin on König’s face as he’s towering over him, almost a head taller, and looking the most intimidating I’ve seen him yet.

“Don’t worry, he doesn't bite.”, I joke with the security guard who rolls his eyes, but finally goes to pat down the big guy.

König’s grin turns mischievous, looking down at him while he’s being checked. “Only if asked to.”, he says, glancing at me. And then he fucking winks. And I almost trip over my own feet. I steady myself, going down the stairs, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. Because that planted an image in my head I wasn’t ready for.

He catches up to me. “I’ll drop my jacket off and then we can get a beer?”, he suggests and I nod, following his lead. His hand drops to the small of my back, guiding me as we maneuver through the crowds of people. And I try to ignore how this light touch is making me feel.

We get in line at the bar and something I wanted to talk to him about burns at the tip of my tongue. Especially now that I’ve seen the expression on his face when somebody pushes past me, accidently brushing against me.

“Can you promise me something?”, I ask, putting on my nicest face to heighten the chances of him agreeing to it.

His lips curl into a sly smile when he sees the way I’m looking at him. “That depends on what you want me to promise.”

“Please don't stomp on any of the people if they bump into me.”, I tell him.

“Hm, I don't know if I can promise that.”, he answers with an honest tone in his voice, but the mischief in his eyes is telling a different story. “I have to look out for my concert companion, don’t I?”

“Well, can you at least leave them in one piece? I wanna leave the concert a free woman and not an accomplice to murder.”, I explain, not even taking myself seriously.

He laughs. “I think, we can arrange that.” He playfully nudges me with his arm and I almost topple over because I didn’t expect that. An “Oh shit” drops from his lips while his hands reach for my waist to steady me, and my first reaction is to hold onto him. His arm to be exact. My fingers grab onto his lower arms and I can feel the strong cords of muscle beneath my fingertips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“, he says.

I shake my head, interrupting him. “Don’t apologize, it takes more to break me.” Which sounds completely wrong and dirty in my mind, now that I think about it. But the sentence already left my lips. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his heated gaze on me, even when I don’t look up at him, still holding onto his arm when we reach the front of the line. Ordering beers that he pays for, just like we agreed to. I snatch up the two glasses and head to a quieter corner.

König isn't a big talker, although he seems more relaxed now, so it's still mostly me yapping about stuff that comes to my mind while we wait for the concert to start, him asking questions in between, nodding along, listening, and sipping his beer.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I’m talking too much.", I finally interrupt myself, smiling up at him apologetically.

He shakes his head. "No, it's fine, don't worry about it. I like hearing you talk." And his words make me blush and actually shut up for a brief moment where I can just smile into my beer and bask in the compliment.

“I think they’re starting soon, you want to go in?”, he asks me, smiling down at me.

“Yes, we can do that.”, I nod and we make our way into the hall. It’s already packed, but with König it’s easy because the crowd parts, looking up at the tall man when he passes. We find a spot that’s more in the back of the room, so he doesn’t obstruct the view of too many people.

I stand right in front of him, looking up at him, to see him scanning the people around us, observing every little bit that’s going on. His arm wraps around my waist, in theory a small little gesture. But his touch makes me light up, his fingertips softly digging into my hips. His fingers stroking ever so slightly, skimming over the fabric of my skirt, seemingly not even thinking about it. And I take the chance to lean myself against him, feigning the same innocence as he does.

Suddenly, the symphonic part of 'Welcome Back, O’ Sleeping Dreamer' starts playing over the speaker and the concert begins. I smile up at him and jump up and down all excited, pulling at his shirt to get his reaction. He laughs, even though I don’t hear the sound because the whole room erupts in cheers and shouts, only getting louder when the band comes on stage and the drums and guitars set in.

I get the impression that he’s enjoying it as well and the smile on my face gets even wider when he starts headbanging with the crowd. And it makes me happy to see him like that. The music sweeps me up and carries me away and I start to move with the harsh sounds blasting from the speakers.

What I don't know or see is the way he's looking at me when I scream the lyrics from the top of my lungs. How mesmerized he seems when I jump and mosh to the next song, dancing without a care in the world. How my wild and energetic euphoria of being at a concert infects him, even if he's still being a bit self-conscious.

It's been a long time since he actually has been to a concert. And he hasn't been all too sure why he even offered to go with me other than seizing the opportunity to see me again. But right now, standing in the crowd experiencing the thrill of live music once again, he remembers why he enjoyed it so much when he was younger.

to be continued - the concert is not over yet!

part 3 or more stuff in the Masterlist

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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petrapalerno · 1 month

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Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #10

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, pregnancy, overstimulation, anal play, gagging and violence.

MASTER POST

At some point in the journey, you’ve fallen asleep against Drohako’s back. There’s something soothing about the padding on Graysi’s feet on the dusty ground.

Your eyes flutter open, only to be met with a landscape that falls far short of the wild, untamed beauty you were expecting.

“Drohako,” you whisper as he guides the cat to round the corner of a very austere looking building. “Where are we?”

In the dim light of the night, you let your eyes wander, taking in your surroundings. The towering structure in front of you casts a shadow that obscures the moon’s gentle glow.

“Quiet, we’re at the nesting grounds.” He slips a hand quickly over your mouth as you gasp.

The nesting grounds? Isn’t this the one fucking spot you don’t want to be?

“We need a nesting pod. Our child won’t survive for long without one,” he tells you all while keeping his hand clamped tightly shut over your lips.

Frustrated, you sink your teeth into his rough, calloused fingers with all your might.

Drohako, unaffected by your efforts, rolls his eyes, but releases his hand all the same.

“We’re a team asshole,” you mutter. “You tell me the plan, always.” You keep your scowl even as he dismounts the big cat and lifts you off its back like a doll.

“Fine.” the brute agrees.

“So let’s go in there and get the damn pod and then get the hell out of dodge, yeah?” You tighten the knot on your pants, cursing the fact that your attire is far from practical. What you wouldn’t give for some fucking leggings right about now.

“Informing you of the plan is a much different request than including you in it.” His lip curls back in disbelief, as though he can’t fathom that you’re requesting to accompany him.

“So you’re just going to leave me out here? That doesn’t seem any safer!”

As you cross your arms and pout, he reaches for a dagger on his hip, carefully transferring it into your hands.

“I don’t even know how to use a knife,” you complain.

A look of surprise crosses his face as his eyebrows shoot up.

“Put the blade into any soft spot you can reach. Don’t talk you way out a conformation, I know that mouth of yours. You go for your opponent’s eyes, groin, throat. Inflict as much damage as you can and when we’re safe at the hunting cave, I’ll teach you the proper way to wield a blade.” He seems overly confident in your skills. “And Graysi will rip the throat out of an attacker well before you even realize their presence.”

You feel the presence of the enormous feline behind you, its claws tugging at the fabric of your pant leg, dragging you towards the ground. Once you’re seated, he wraps his body around you, resting his enormous head on your lap.

“I don’t like this,” you scowl up at him. “Hurry, be safe, don’t do anything stupid.”

“You worry about me for nothing. I am the strongest in my clan,” He tells you as he saunters towards a door at the far side of the wall. With a forceful swing of his sturdy leg, he kicks the door so hard that it almost breaks off its hinges.

“Don’t be a dick, don’t showoff–you have to come back to me, to us.” You place a hand on your stomach.

“Don’t be a dick, don’t show off—you have to come back to me, to us,” you whisper, placing a gentle hand on your stomach. The heaviness of your words lingers in the air. Deep within you, a tiny life is growing. In this moment, you need Drohako to understand the gravity of their actions, to realize that their choices not only affected themselves but the future within you.

In a momentary lapse, Drohako’s haughty demeanor falters, and a flicker of fear crosses his face.

Just as quickly as it faltered, the mask slide back up.

“You have my word. Now stay put.” He jabs his pointer finger in the air at you.

So you listen for once. Staying put, you trace the stripes on Graysi’s head with your fingernails as he purrs.

You count his whiskers and once you’ve done that three times in a row; it doesn’t do much do calm your anxiety. You lift his hulking head as the cat grumbles and you shift the direction your legs are going. The adjustment just leaves your thigh full of pins and needles, and you try to flex your foot to get the blood pumping again.

Annoyed by your incessant squirming, Graysi places a heavy paw on your leg, demanding stillness.

“You’re a moose,” you huff as you shove his leg to the side.

Petting his yellow fur, you continue to wait, your eyes locked on the open door.

But with all this waiting comes thoughts, and bad ones. This plan doesn’t seem well thought out enough. It seems really risky. Why wouldn’t you wait to do this?

A ball forms in the pit of your stomach.

What if Drohako doesn’t come back?

You have little time to spiral into your own thoughts as a bright flash and heat pours out of the door.

Your breath catches in your throat as you see a charred Drohako, arms wrapped tightly around some kind of plastic pod, come flying through the doorway.

His body hits the ground with a crack, and you can actually hear the wind knocked from his chest.

Graysi scrambles to stand, his claw pushing deeply into your skin. The rush of adrenaline as you hurry to his side masks the pain, making it feel dull and distant.

As you roll him onto his side, his eyes remain closed, giving no hint of his consciousness.

“Drohako!” You yelp as you thwack him hard on the back.

His eyes shoot open as he’s sputtering, gasping for breath. When his eyes lock with yours, he coughs and sweeps you into his arms. As he gets his legs underneath him, he wobbles unsteadily. But with each bounding leap, his confidence surges.

“What the fuck happened?” You yelp as he throws you over Graysi’s back. Stuffing the egg-shaped device into the rucksack on the cat’s hips.

He swings his own leg over, mounting the beast. With a kick to its ribs, you’re off like a shot. The surrounding darkness grows as you ride into the night.

As you gallop into the darkness, you can hear the raised voices and the clank of boots. They’re after you, but they’re too slow compared to the feline to catch you.

Drohako kicks again, and Graysi pushes us even faster into the night.

“Complications caused a fucking explosion?” You demand an answer from him, turning your body as much as you can to get a better look at him as you ride.

Noticing your struggle, he quickly intervenes and flips you around. Now, facing him, your legs intertwine with his as you straddle both the cat and the alien.

“I have the nesting pod. It shouldn’t matter how it was obtained,” he grunts out.

You’re ready to yell at him again, to give him a piece of your mind, but as you brace your hand against his side, you feel wetness. When you pull your hand back, it’s covered with his black blood.

“You’re hurt!” You squeak, quickly putting your hand back to apply pressure to his wound.

“It is nothing.” He blinks rapidly as the dust from the cat’s paws flies into the air.

You jab a finger close to the wound. You shouldn’t—It’s cruel. His body recoils at your touch.

“Nothing?” You parrot back to him. “You get us to that cave as fast as you can!” you tell him before wrapping your other arm around his torso and burying your face against his wooly chest.

“I thought you didn’t know how to stab,” he winces as you reapply pressure.

“Shut up,” you tell him as tear fall from your eyes.

I’m angry, so why the fuck am I crying?

What started as a casual arrangement for rough sex has grown into a connection that goes beyond physical intimacy. You haven’t wanted to admit it before, but the constant knot in your stomach and the racing thoughts are forcing you to confront the undeniable fear of losing him.

You know what this emotion is.

“I love you, idiot.”

“You’re a warrior, whether you admit it or not,” he says, putting his free arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

#monster fucker #monster romance #monster smut #monster lover #smut #terato #monsterfuqqer #aliens #alien romance #alien #Petra palerno #STTABshort #i love aliens #monster fuqqer #alien x human #alien x reader

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charmandabear · 17 days

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Office Hours - Chapter Ten

Summary:

It's bowling time! You and the gang get a little closer over this highly unsexy game. Definitely no sexy things will happen in this chapter. No, don't look at the tags. Stop, what are you doing.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags/Warnings: thigh riding, dry humping, rough kisses, fantasies of bondage, cumming in pants, vampire bites/blood drinking, conversations about academic research, semi-public semi-sex

So I didn't actually mean to wait a week and a half between posting chapter 10 on AO3 and posting it here, but as a result, I can tell you that the un-beta'd chapter 11 is now up on my Kofi! You can read it for free, or you can wait until it's fully edited on AO3. Up to you, guy.

As always, @zipzoomzaria is responsible for the devastatingly handsome professor in the banner.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

Admittedly, you kind of delight in the look on Astarion’s face as you cross the threshold into the bowling alley. His nose wrinkles while his eyes dart around the space, cataloging everything from the stained black and neon rainbow carpet, to the bored employee sitting in front of rows and rows of dirty rental shoes, to the group of noisy teengers eating nachos covered with a thick liquid cheese.

He lets out a low growl and you giggle, almost giddy at the evening ahead of you. There is absolutely no chance in hell you’ll be able to do anything even remotely sexual in this environment. You grab his hand and drag him over to the shoe rental.

“Hi, can I get a 7 ½?” you ask the employee, and they languidly pull their chin off their hand and turn around to grab the shoes. Astarion hovers behind you, still uncomfortably taking everything in. You take the shoes from the employee and drop them in front of you, stepping out of your flats and into the bowling shoes.

“Ugh, gods, I don't know why you insist on taking part in this,” he says with a sneer, well within earshot of the employee, whose eyes have already started to glaze back over. “It’s not enough to put your fingers into a grease-coated ball, you choose to play dress up with a hundred other people’s feet?”

“I mean I wouldn’t choose to, I just have to if I want to actually do the bowling part of it,” you tell him as you wiggle your ankle to get the shoe to settle.

“Sorry, what?”

You had been waiting for this moment and you try to hide your glee as you say, “Yeah, you have to rent special shoes so you don’t fuck up the floor.”

His face remains frozen for a moment in a look of utter disgust as he processes what you said. “So you’re telling me,” he drawls, waving his finger like a disgruntled valley girl, “that in order to play this asinine game that you’re making me play, I must pay money to let my feet bask in the foot sweat residue of several hundred strangers?”

“You also have to leave your shoes with them while they’re rented,” you add, handing your flats over to the employee, who slips them in the cubby whence they retrieved your rental shoes. Astarion splutters incoherently.

“That’s it, you’ve lost me, this was a very cute idea but I am absolut–” You grab his hand as he starts storming away and pull him back towards the rental counter.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun, I promise!” You grasp his hand in both of yours, an exaggerated gesture of a pleading child. “Just do it for me, please?”

He scowls at your beaming face for a moment before rolling his eyes and approaching the counter again.

“I’ll take a 9 ½,” he grumbles through gritted teeth. The employee continues to display an almost impressive amount of apathy as they grab the requested size. Astarion makes a show of his disgust as he takes off his patent leather oxfords and puts on the grubby shoes that were presumably red and blue at one point.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he mutters out of the side of his mouth and your grin widens.

“You absolutely will not,” you tease. He stands suddenly, closer than you had realized, and looms over you.

“Would you like to test that theory?” he hums in a low voice, and your breath catches in your throat. He turns away from your reddening face with a smug sense of satisfaction as he hands his shoes to the employee. He starts to walk away when their voice interrupts him.

“Sir, you need to pay for those,” they call out halfheartedly. He turns around to you, just staring back innocently.

“Oh, I’m paying,” he confirms blankly, and you shrug.

“You’re the one with tenure, you make more than me,” you state matter-of-factly. He scowls again but doesn’t protest, and instead just taps his phone on the pin pad.

You scan the lanes to see if you can spot any of your friends. Gale sees you and waves you over to where he and Wyll are sitting together stiffly. Shadowheart and Karlach aren’t here yet.

“Hello, there,” he calls, grateful to see faces he recognizes. A paper boat of fries sits on the table between them, along with two plastic cups of water.

“Any word from Karlach?” you ask Wyll, leaning over the hard plastic bench to grab a fry.

“She apologized, she said they’d be here soon,” he replies, glancing at the text from her.

“Took them longer to get ready than they expected,” you say with a grin, and Wyll clears his throat, cheeks darkening slightly.

“Oh Tav, have you caught up with If Books?” Gale asks you, taking off his glasses to clean them with his knit sweater vest.

“Yes, I couldn’t stop listening to it,” you reply enthusiastically, “some episodes have been very illuminating.” You cast a quick glance at Astarion and he petulantly shoves his hands into his pockets and shuffles his feet. “But it’s so hard waiting for each new one,” you add, and Gale nods.

“Yes, and they’ve switched from a bimonthly schedule to a monthly schedule, so the wait is even longer,” he agrees.

“What’s up, fuckers?” Karlach’s voice booms across the lanes and Astarion mutters, “Oh thank the gods,” under his breath. Shadowheart and Karlach saunter over, Karlach double fisting pitchers of a pale amber beer. She puts them down onto the table, only one of them sloshing beer over the edge. Shadowheart narrows her eyes at Astarion, sizing him up.

“Shade, this is Astarion, Astarion, this is my best friend Shadowheart,” you awkwardly introduce them to try to cut the tension as early as possible.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Shadowheart says with disdain, looking down her nose at Astarion. “I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“Only the best, I’m sure,” he lobs back. “Funny, I don’t think she’s mentioned you.” You shoot Astarion a dirty look as Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs. You can tell that she’s unaccustomed to sparring with someone who has as much snark as her, but the verdict is still out on whether or not it’s a good thing.

Oblivious to the heated standoff behind her, Karlach types away at the console, putting in slightly wrong initials for everyone and giggling maniacally as she does. In order, the names say ASS, TAV, CAR, SAD, GIL, and WIL.

“Soldier over here’s lucky, her name is already three letters,” she laughs and winks at you. Astarion fiddles with the roll of his sleeve and looks at the ball return with apprehension.

“I suppose my ‘ass’ is first?” He hits Karlach with the look over the glasses and she throws her head back, cackling like a hyena.

“Good on ya, Cardigan, there’s a sense of humor under that mop after all.” She kicks the toe of her red and white shoe at him from where she’s sitting, but he dodges out of the way. He walks up to the ball return and shudders before he decides on one, visibly gagging as he picks it up.

“Okay you drama queen, we get it, it’s gross,” you laugh at him, “now just knock as many pins down as you can, okay?”

“That much would seem obvious,” he smirks, and walks up to the edge of the lane. He glances back at you one last time, almost as if he’s assessing if you’re really worth the humiliation, before throwing the ball down the lane. It glides towards the pins in a smooth straight line before crashing into their pyramid, knocking over all but one. He stares at the lone pin in shock as you and Karlach whoop at him.

“Hey, you might actually be good at this game after all!” you shout as he walks back to the bench, looking just a little more pleased with himself. He’s about to sit down when you stop him, saying, “No, you get two frames.” He looks back down at the end of the lane just in time to see the mechanical arm sweep away the fallen pins and leave the remaining one standing. He makes a dramatic show of sighing heavily and picks up the ball again. He approaches the lane, calculates the pathing, and throws the ball. It knocks down the last pin.

“Okay Ancunín, comin’ in hot with the spare!” Karlach laughs and he puffs his chest slightly at the compliment. “I think you might need a better nickname than Cardigan.”

“Gods please, I’ll take anything,” he begs, and you stand up to grab a ball.

“Perhaps Dr. Bowling?” Wyll pipes up, and Gale adds, “A doctorate in Bowling Studies with a concentration in spares and strikes?” Astarion’s scowl is icy, but even you can tell he’s having fun.

“I’ve spoken too quickly,” he says, gritting his teeth.

You find that the six of you get along quite well. The conversation is easy and light as you cycle through your turns, laughs flowing between you as freely as the terrible watery beer.

You take a gulp from your plastic cup, your legs draped over Astarion’s lap as Gale takes his turn. Astarion scoffs at the smell.

“Nine hells, how can you possibly drink that piss?” He turns his face away from the yellowish liquid.

“I don’t know, I have low standards for myself?” you answer with a shrug.

Shadowheart lets out a high pitch giggle. “Clearly, considering you’re dating him,” she snickers, and Astarion fixes her with a playfully snide look.

“Big talk coming from someone who needs aloe vera after a romantic evening,” he retorts with pursed lips. Shadowheart tries to suppress a smile – talking shit is her love language.

“At least she and I agree to it prior,” she says coolly, and Astarion goes even paler than usual. He shoots you a nervous glance, a sort of are we allowed to joke about that? But you laugh and take another sip of your beer, surreptitiously rubbing the back of his hand resting on your knee in assurance.

You’re enjoying watching Shadowheart and Karlach navigate the awkward early stages of the relationship. Shadowheart has her hands clasped around her knee, bent in front of her as her foot rests on the plastic bench. Karlach’s arm is draped across the back of the bench, leaving enough plausible deniability as to whether or not her arm is actually around Shadowheart. You suspect by the end of the evening, it’ll be less ambiguous.

“So tell me, Gale,” Wyll asks as Gale waits by the ball return. “I’ve never met a wizard with a PhD, what was your research in?”

“I’m so glad you asked, because I think you in particular would find use of it,” he responds enthusiastically. “It was in ethical uses of high powered spells. There’s a stigma around mortals chasing too much power, but I feel very strongly that some spells simply have no downside.”

Astarion quirks an eyebrow, his hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who’s power hungry, Dekarios,” he says with a smirk, and Gale emphatically shakes his head.

“No, the power isn’t for me, it’s for– well, hold on.” He quickly grabs his ball from the return and throws it down the lane. It hits the gutter within seconds.

“Too bad!” Karlach calls, her arm slipping ever so slightly around Shadowheart’s shoulders a bit more.

“It’s fine. Anyway.” Gale is quick to return to the benches, excited to talk about his research. “I strongly feel that Globe of Invulnerability, Heal, and Heroes’ Feast simply have no downside. We should implement systems in which they can be used for the greater good.”

“Fascinating. Do doctors not already use Heal in hospitals?” Wyll muses, then turns to Shadowheart as he stands to take his turn. “Shadowheart, you’re a cleric of Selûne, you must use Heal all the time.”

Shadowheart shakes her head. “We’re not permitted to use anything more powerful than Mass Cure Wounds, and even then it’s only in the most dire situations, like war zones. I don’t even know how to perform it.”

“See, this is precisely what I’m saying! Imagine all the good that we could do if there were more medical professionals who knew Mass Cure Wounds and Heal.” Gale gesticulates wildly with his almost empty cup of beer.

“Heroes’ Feast could end world hunger in a matter of minutes!” Wyll nearly shouts from the lane right before he bowls his second frame, almost as excited as Gale.

“Yes!” Gale returns the excitement and then downs the last sip of his beer. “In fact, I think many of these high level spells are outlawed in some countries without even considering how they might impact our society.”

“Hey Ass, you’re up,” Wyll calls, heading back to the bench.

“Darling, could you move your legs?” he asks you, his tone saccharine. You make a show of deliberating, holding your finger to your chin.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure. Wyll, who’s winning right now?” you call out to him and he speaks through the fry in his mouth.

“Ashtarion,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I don’t think I will move,” you smirk obstinately, pushing your calves down into his lap. He raises his eyebrows at your challenge, peering at you over his glasses. He grabs your ankles and sharply turns you in your seat, his rough handling sending a subtle jolt through your core.

“Don’t pick a fight you can’t win, love,” he hums, his lips barely brushing against yours. He stands and turns towards the lane, leaving you slightly breathless. Karlach and Shadowheart titter at your dazed expression, the distance between them having all but disappeared.

Astarion gets yet another strike, and you briefly wonder how this English academic got so dexterous before remembering the feel of his long smooth fingers working inside you. You blink several times to banish the needlessly dirty thought as he turns around with an insufferably pompous look on his face, his newly discovered talent feeding his already overinflated ego. You try to play it cool as you stand and walk toward the ball return, but he blocks your body with his. You look up at him and he runs his knuckle up the front of your throat, stopping it right under your chin.

“Don’t choke,” he purrs and you press your lips together tightly to prevent an embarrassing noise from escaping. You shake your hair over your ears to cover how red they’ve become, but you’re certain your cheeks still give you away. You grab a ball and throw it down the lane, hardly aware of how many pins it knocks down. You stare into the ball return with glazed eyes as you watch your pink ball slide out of its mouth. You grab it, barely registering the shouts of encouragement from the others, and throw it down the lane as quickly as you can. You turn around before seeing the outcome of the frame, your mind occupied by one solitary thought.

“Excuse me, I’m going to run to the restroom,” you mumble, wrapping around behind the plastic benches as Karlach stands to take her turn. As discreetly as possible, you run your fingers across Astarion’s shoulders as you pass behind him. If you’re lucky, he’ll get the hint. If not… well, you need to take a breather anyway.

You duck into the hallway branching off the main lanes and settle yourself behind an ancient payphone. You have no idea if it’s meant to be kitschy and retro or simply a relic of a bygone era. You take a deep breath as you try to clear your head.

It didn't take long for Astarion to swing around the corner, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you up against the wood-paneled wall. His lips are hard on yours and his fingers tangle in your hair – a roughness you’re all too happy to accept. You grasp at his lower waist, pulling his body further into yours. Your lips pop open as a small moan escapes when his knee slides up between your legs, pressing against your already aching mound.

“I thought this was meant to dampen our appetites,” he murmurs through breathless kisses. You clutch the back of his head as you grind down wantonly on his thigh.

“It’s not my fault you get fucking hot when you’re competitive, ah–” you swallow the moan as he slides his chilled hands up the back of your shirt, pressing into the dip just above your ass.

“I take it you like seeing me win?” You can feel his lips smiling against your earlobe, and you let out a small squeak when he gives it a gentle nip.

“I like seeing you cocky,” you groan, desperately chasing the friction that his thigh provides. He chuckles and pushes his leg up further into you, causing you to grunt through your teeth and pull on his hair as you try to keep the obscene noises that he’s tearing from you under control.

“Tell me how else you like me,” he rasps, and you can feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

“I like it when you’re domineering,” your voice cracks as you continue to roll your hips against him. “I like when you tell me what to do. I like it when you’re just a little mean but even more when you tell me I’m a good girl.”

His hips buck against you and you shift on top of his leg, trying to relieve your own throbbing cunt while rubbing your leg against the bulge in his pants. His lips are still on your ear and he lets out a hissing breath when you lightly brush against his cock.

“You are my good girl, don’t stop.” His breath is cool against your skin and he runs the tip of his tongue along the shell of your ear, pulling a deep shudder from you. You can already feel how wet he’s made you, and if he keeps this up you might just come undone.

“I want you to put your hand around my throat when you fuck me,” you whine, your slick folds sliding against each other as he grinds his thigh into you. “I want you to put me in a collar and hold the leash tight and tell me I’m yours.” The fantasy is pouring out of you at this point. You’re hardly aware of your surroundings, all that matters is you and Astarion.

You can tell your words are affecting him, too. The rutting of his hips grow frantic and you tighten your hand in his hair and you can feel that familiar spiraling heat blooming out from your core.

“Gods, Astarion, I’m–” you mewl, fully riding his leg at this point. “Please bite me, I want you to bite me, I’m begging–” The moment his fangs sink into your flesh you come, your hand pressed tight over your mouth to muffle the sound, your hips stuttering with each rippling wave of pleasure. As he takes long dragging sips of your blood he makes barely audible whimpers into your neck, his hips still thrusting into your thigh. You bring your hands to his ear, gently pinching his velvety lobe between your fingers.

“Fuck, come for me Astarion,” you whisper into his hair, and it’s enough. He inhales sharply through his nose, teeth still latched onto your neck, and the rest of him stills, save a few subtle jerks of his hips as he spills inside his pants. You let out a breathy chuckle as you card your fingers through his hair affectionately. He pulls away from your neck and you’re blessed with one of your favorite sights – his lips slightly bloody, his eyes wild and frenzied, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You kiss him, lapping up the metallic droplets from his lips, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

“I do so love it when you do that, you know,” he sighs, and you stifle a giggle.

“Make you come in your pants?” you tease.

“No– well, yes, I mean– I mean no!” he stammers, uncharacteristically flustered, and you hum with approval. “No, when you kiss me just after I’ve fed on you. It makes me feel… closer to you, I suppose.”

“Plus I bet it’s, like, really sexy,” you joke, skating over his sincerity, afraid of what you might accidentally say in response. You’re so not ready to write a check that you can’t cash.

“Yes, it is,” he murmurs and kisses you again, unphased by your deflection.

As though an impenetrable barrier had been lifted, someone rounds the corner to head to the bathroom and the two of you straighten up like you didn’t just dry hump like a couple of horny teenagers. You try to tidy your appearances, but there’s no accounting for the noticeable stain on the front of Astarion’s pants. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up onto his forehead.

“I can’t believe you… ugh. I can’t be seen by the others like this.” He sighs deeply, the consequences of both of your actions finally catching up to him. You bite your lip guiltily, then suddenly gasp, recalling the machine you’ve seen in hundreds of restrooms throughout your life but never had any use for.

“Do you have a quarter?” you ask him frantically, and he stares at you, completely flummoxed.

“No, who carries cash anymore? What, why do–” You’re gone before he can finish his sentence, dashing around the corner to find Shadowheart. Karlach sees you first, and her face lights up as she waves her whole arm at you.

“Hey, we were just about to send out a search party,” she laughs as you round the corner of the benches.

“Itoldthemnotto,” Gale adds quickly, and you appreciate that he learned his lesson from last time. Shadowheart strides up to you and grabs your chin, pulling it to the side to expose your neck.

“Ugh, Tav, you shouldn’t drive when you’re like this,” she groans. “Te absolvo.” She flicks your forehead as she casts the spell and you flinch before a sheepish grin slides onto your face.

“Hey, where’s Astarion?” Karlach asks, making like she’s going to head towards the bathrooms to look for him. You grab her arm before she can get too far.

“No no, don’t worry about that,” you speak frenetically, “Does anyone have a quarter?”

“Who even carries cash anymore?” Karlach asks with a bemused face, but Shadowheart glowers at you.

“Why, what do you need it for?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, and she rolls her eyes. She grabs her purse and pulls out a sleek black leather wallet embossed with a crescent moon. “I only have ones,” she says, and you yank the bill out of her hand.

“That’s fine thanks love you be right back.” You take off with her dollar and make a beeline for the change machine near the arcade. After several attempts to flatten the bill enough for the machine to accept it, you hear four clangs as the quarters drop into the metal tray. You quickly scoop them out and run back to the hallway outside the bathrooms where poor Astarion is pretending to talk on the payphone.

“Where in the sweet hells did you go?” he hisses, and you finally get a good look at his appearance. His hair is still slightly disheveled, and he’s untucked his shirt to let it hang over the wet spot on the front of his trousers. You don’t answer him, but rather grab his wrist and duck into the women’s restroom that is, thankfully, empty.

You turn to the metal machine hanging off the wall that dispenses three invaluable items for a bowling alley bathroom: tampons, condoms, and scrolls of prestidigitation. You drop a quarter into the slot above the third item, crank the knob, and out falls a tightly rolled scroll.

“They’re usually for mothers to clean up after they’re done changing their baby’s diaper,” you say, nodding your head towards the plastic baby changing station. “But clearly they have other uses. Infame.” You recite the spell’s incantation and the scroll vanishes along with the stain on Astarion’s pants. He lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank the Gods.” He unbuckles his belt and begins to tuck his shirt back into his pants. “You owe me,” he adds wryly.

“Um excuse me, who just traipsed all over just to hunt down a goddamn quarter so you could clean up after yourself?” you pout and he slides his hands around your waist.

“But who’s responsible for getting me into this mess in the first place?” he hums in a low voice, brushing his lips against yours. You’re about to melt into his kiss when suddenly the door to the restroom opens and a bewildered looking halfling walks in. You and Astarion spring apart and he quickly redoes his belt buckle. You embarrassedly shuffle out the door without a word.

The two of you reemerge to see all of your friends waiting impatiently by the shoe rental. Your and Astarion’s shoes have already been removed from their cubbies and the employee is just waiting for you to return the bowling shoes. The two of you jog over, and Shadowheart rolls her eyes as you approach.

“Fucking degenerates,” she mutters under her breath, grabbing Karlach’s hand and storming out the door.

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lewmagoo · 2 months

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six summers | bob floyd

description: it's been six years. six years since you walked away from the man you loved. six years since the night that your own foolish actions led to the disappearance of sixteen-year-old melissa seresin. you’ve spent these last few years living with crippling guilt. and after everything that happened, the last thing you are expecting is an invite to return to the camp and reassume your role as counselor. but here you are, staring in disbelief at a letter asking you to do just that. providing you with the opportunity to make things right. will you be able to come to terms with the past and allow yourself to accept this second chance? or will you let your guilt consume you?

characters: bob floyd x reader, the dagger squad as their respective characters, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, a number of my own ocs

warnings: 18+ only, mentions of death, guilt, references to sex, mentions of anxiety

series status: ongoing

listen to the playlist here!

this story is inspired by @ryebecca and this fantastic moodboard she made ; i also drew some inspiration from riley sager's the last time i lied

*this is my own original work - i do not consent to having it reposted or redistributed in any way

July 30th, 1980

1:15 am

All you felt was terror. Icy cold, like someone had shoved their frigid fingers beneath your shirt, digits pressing harsh, angry bruises into the skin while they were at it. Your arms were wrapped around yourself as you stood in the damp morning air, your eyes flitting about nervously, your gut churning with nausea.

“You do realize that your negligence in this situation is going to come with consequences, right? How could you be so stupid?!” Penny Mitchell’s voice had a sharp edge to it, despite her lowered tone. Her eyes were piercing. You couldn’t look at her.

“Don’t try to pin this all on her. I’m just as much to blame.” That was Bobby’s voice, coming from beside you, an air of protectiveness emanating from him as he stepped closer, standing in solidarity with you.

“Oh, trust me, I’m holding you responsible, too. But she’s the one who was supposed to be in charge of that cabin. If she would have been at her post, this wouldn’t have happened. But no! The two of you were off doing God knows what, while one of our campers wandered off into the night!”

Penny got into your face, pointing her finger, her anger palpable, radiating off her in waves. “You had better pray that girl is still alive, because if she winds up dead, her blood is on your hands, counselor.”

May 18th, 1986

10:30 am

“Mail’s in!” The voice of your roommate carried through your apartment, pulling your attention from the rhythmic tapping of the antique typewriter you’d picked up from a yard sale. Without a second thought, you sprang from your chair, flinging open your bedroom door, bare feet quick against carpet as you hurried toward the kitchen, where Margie was just walking through the door with a stack of mail.

“Any of it addressed to me?” You asked, a hopeful inflection in your voice.

Margie nodded, tossing the envelopes onto the countertop. “Yeah, you’re popular, got two letters addressed to you.”

Eagerly, you shuffled through the stack before you located the letters she was talking about. One had no definitive markings, so you had no idea where it was from. But the other had a promising logo on the front– The Capital Gazette.

“The Gazette sent something back!” You exclaimed, flipping the envelope over, fingers trembling as you tore into the seal.

Margie gasped, her attention immediately zeroing in on the letter you held. “What did they say?!” She exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Gimme a minute!” You shot back as you rushed to unfold the paper. Your eyes hurriedly scanned the contents, but within moments, your shoulders fell, the thrill of hope fading away to heavy disappointment. The words we regret to inform you were all you needed to read to know what the letter was about.

“I didn’t get the job,” came your glum statement.

“What?” Margie snatched the paper off the counter when you let it drop, reading it for herself. “Oh, come on! You’re the best damn writer I know, how could they turn you down?!”

You shook your head, fighting the tears of disappointment that had gathered on your lash line. “They don’t need me. They’ve got better writers.”

“That’s bullshit!” She huffed, shaking her head, knocking some of her unkempt curls loose from her haphazard ponytail.

“Whatever,” you said, bitterly. “There are other newspapers I can apply to. Other magazines. People are hiring all over the place,” you said, hoping to instill hope in your own heart. But it did little to lift your spirits.

Your roommate sighed softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “I’m sorry. Really.”

“Thanks, Mar. So am I.”

Her attention shifted to the other, unopened letter on the counter. “What’s that one say?”

With a clueless shrug, you reached for it. All it bore was your address in handwriting that was oddly familiar. Tentatively, you tore into the envelope, brows furrowed as you unfolded the paper and began to read.

And then, “holy shit.”

“What is it?” Margie demanded, curious. When you looked at her, she noticed the expression of worry etched into your brow.

“Camp Mitchell,” you whispered.

At that, the woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God.” And then, she waved her hand, motioning you on. “What does it say?”

“They…they want me to come back as a counselor.”

I hope this letter finds you well. I am reaching out to you because I wanted to extend a formal invitation to return to camp as a counselor this summer. I know that things ended on a sour note for all of us involved, but Pete and I desire to breathe new life into this camp. We want to give other campers the chance to experience the wonder and magic of summertime at Camp Mitchell. I understand if you would prefer not to return, but it would be an honor to have you back with us again. Think we can agree to let bygones be bygones? I sure do hope so. Please give me a call at the number below and let me know if you would like to return and reassume your role as a camp counselor. Arrival deadline for counselors is May 24th. Hope to see you soon!

Best wishes,

Penny Mitchell

You stared at the words in absolute shock. They wanted you to come back? After everything that had happened? After your own foolishness had resulted in a girl going missing? You had to admit, it was a bold move on Penny’s part.

The police had heavily investigated you when young Melissa Seresin went missing six years prior. Penny had even blamed you for the girl’s disappearance. It was hard to imagine her wanting you to come anywhere near her camp ever again.

“I need to sit down,” you muttered, tossing the letter back onto the counter and stepping toward the kitchen table, where you hurriedly pulled out one of the chairs and lowered yourself into the seat. Two life-altering events had just taken place in the span of five minutes. You needed to process all of it.

As you tried to regain your wits, Margie scanned over the letter. Then, she sauntered over to you, letting out a sigh as she pulled out the chair across from you and flopped down into it, her legs parted, arms falling down to dangle over the sides. She blew a pesky curl away from her face.

Sympathetic brown eyes landed upon you, and the girl before you smiled softly. Understandingly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I really don’t know,” you said. “Since the job with The Gazette fell through…I might have no choice but to take up the offer to go back to camp. At least I’d be making some kind of income during the summer while I try to figure things out.”

Margie raised a dark brow. “Listen, you do what you think is best for you. But…after everything that happened there, are you sure you’re ready to go back? It’s only been six years.” She was not coming from a place of judgment. She was coming from a place of genuine concern for her friend.

You groaned softly, placing your head in your hands. “I dunno know what to do. Honestly, I’m not ready. But then again it might give me closure. And maybe that’s what Penny is thinking. If she wants to make things right with me after the way things ended…maybe I should go.”

The girl sighed. “Yeah, I guess closure might be something that comes outta this. I just don’t want you to have to go through all that shit again, though.”

Your mouth quirked into a grateful smile. “I know, Mar. I’ve gotta think about it, first. I’m not making any decisions yet.”

“Well, let me know what you decide. Whatever choice you make, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

As Margie left you at the table to be alone with your thoughts, you considered the weight of the situation. It had all happened so fast, and you felt as if you were caught up in a whirlwind. You only had a week to make a decision, because you had to be at camp on the 24th if you decided to go.

Were you ready to go back, after only six short years? The thought made your stomach turn. Camp Mitchell was a place that held a lot of trauma for you. Your life had fallen apart there.

You had been a first-year counselor in the summer of 1980. A job meant to get you through the summer, before you returned to college in the fall. You remembered being so hopeful and excited about what the summer held.

Camp Mitchell was a camp situated in Michigan’s wilderness. Secluded, surrounded by forests as far as the eye could see. Quaint little wooden cabins. A mess hall. A volleyball pit. A lake. All the other amenities that a typical summer camp would have.

You were put in charge of the junior/senior girls' cabin. Eleventh and twelfth graders. You were slightly intimidated because you were only a few years older than they were. You worried that they would not respect you. But much to your relief, the girls accepted you with open arms.

Throughout the many weeks of camp, you bonded with several different girls who passed through your cabin. But none of them connected as well with you as Melissa Seresin.

July 1980

She was the younger sister of one of the other counselors, Jake Seresin, and she was sweet as could be. She attended camp most of the summer, because her brother worked there, and she didn’t want to remain stuck at home alone while her parents traveled for the summer.

So, she tagged along with Jake. Unlike her brother, she was not cocky. She had a very kindhearted demeanor. A little spoiled, once in a while, due to being the youngest and only girl of rich parents and a doting older brother, but nothing you couldn’t tolerate.

Melissa remained a semi-permanent fixture in your cabin, even as groups of girls from different places — schools, church youth groups, family groups, so on and so forth — passed through all summer.

She knew the camp like the back of her hand, and had spent a few summers there already. You didn’t have to worry about her like you might other campers, because she was well aware of the camp’s procedures.

That was why it was so jarring when, one night in the middle of the summer, she disappeared without a trace.

Late one night, after lights out, the girls in your cabin noticed her absence. Melissa was always in bed come lights out. Not always asleep, but certainly always present. Her neatly made, unoccupied bed raised suspicions, but it was her missing backpack that made the girls think that she had left altogether.

You were not at your post like you were supposed to be. Earlier that night, you had enforced lights out, but soon after had slipped out into the night to meet someone. The girls ranged from fifteen to eighteen years old, so you were not particularly concerned about them getting up to mischief. But in your haste to leave, you neglected to double-check that Melissa was present.

To your utter shame, you had left to meet up with another counselor. The head counselor of the seventh and eighth-grade boys' cabin, Robert Floyd. Bob to his friends. Mr. Bob to the campers. Bobby to you, and only you.

It wasn’t in your nature to sneak around. Neither was it in Bob’s. But you had gotten tangled up in an impassioned summer fling, and you took advantage of every free moment you had to be together.

It was in that time span of you and Bob sneaking off to the lake, that Melissa had gone missing. And when you returned to the cabin an hour later, the girls were all awake, in a slight state of upheaval.

“Where have you been?!” Asked Claudia, one of the senior girls. “I was about to leave and go find Mrs. Mitchell!”

“I needed some air. Why, what’s up?” You cautiously asked.

Claudia motioned to Melissa’s empty bed. “Melissa never made it in for lights out.”

You stared at the bed, its covers untouched and meticulously tucked in, as a hotel bed would be. That was the way she made it every morning. She hadn’t been in that bed since last night. “No, she was here when I left!” You insisted.

“Um, no she wasn’t,” Marissa, another senior, piped up. “Plus, her backpack is gone.”

“Oh, God. Well, that’s my bad for sure. Okay, um, I’m sure she can’t have gotten far. She knows this camp well. Don’t worry, I’ll go take a look around. The rest of you, stay put. Lemme just do a count to make sure nobody else went off with her.”

After a headcount, you came up with fourteen girls. Melissa would make fifteen, so she was the only one missing. Huffing out a sigh, and attempting to keep yourself calm and neutral so the girls wouldn’t panic, you squared your shoulders.

“I’ll go grab another counselor and we’ll take a look. Claudia, you’re the oldest, so you’re in charge. Make sure no one leaves. The rest of you, try to get some sleep. I know you’re a little freaked right now but it’s gonna be okay.” The biggest lie you could have told them. It was, in fact, not going to be okay.

“What should we do if she comes back?” Claudia asked, running a nervous hand through her thick brunette locks. Her dark eyes were fearful, although she was trying to appear brave, just as you were trying to do.

“Just make sure she stays put. I’ll come back and check in a bit, if I don’t find her, and we can touch base then.”

Once you were certain the girls understood the plan, you excused yourself again, stepping out into the humid July night. Crickets sang as you ambled down the path that led to the boys’ cabins, but the pounding of your heart in your ears drowned out the sound.

Your hands shook, unsteady as you held your flashlight before you. Tears blurred your vision, and the heat of embarrassment washed over you. How could you be so stupid? Here you were, off getting laid while one of your girls was nowhere to be found.

You had to look for her, but you weren’t going to do it alone. Hurriedly, you ascended the steps of cabin 13, the first of the boys’ cabins. Light on your feet, so as not to step on any squeaky boards, you crept closer to the door.

Three soft raps, five seconds apart. That was your code. And sure enough, within moments, the door inched open, and there was your Bobby. You had just seen him twenty minutes prior, but he’d already changed into his sleep clothes. An old camp shirt and basketball shorts.

Brow furrowed, he quietly closed the door behind him, stepping out onto the porch. You reached for his hand and guided him off the porch, onto the soft, sandy ground. “What’s goin’ on, Kit?” He asked. The nickname he’d dubbed you for reasons so much more lighthearted than the situation you were facing.

“Melissa’s gone,” you whispered. “The girls said she was never there for lights out.”

“Huh? But you checked on them before you left.”

“I did, but I…I guess I just missed Melissa. I thought she was there, but tonight was so chaotic…God, I can’t believe I could be so stupid” You despaired.

“Shh,” Bob soothed, reaching out to run comforting hands down your arms. “Hey, she probably just went for a walk. I’m not close to her, but I know she likes to go and write in that journal of hers a lot. She’s probably doing that.”

“But that’s not like her. Yeah, she writes in her diary but she’s never done this before. Just…up and left like that. I’m scared, Bobby. I think something might’ve happened to her. And it’s all my fault.”

But he was already shaking his head. “No, don’t even let your mind go there. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” His hands had moved to cup your cheeks. “Tell you what, I’ll help you look for her. If we don’t find her in the next hour, we can tell Penny and get a search party goin’.”

You prayed it wouldn’t come to that, but the sick feeling in your gut told you otherwise. It was your fault, no matter how much Bobby tried to assure you it wasn’t. If Melissa was truly missing, then you were the one to blame. But you didn’t dare speak it into the air. You couldn’t.

“O-okay. We can look together, then.”

And so, the two of you set off on the search for Melissa Seresin. Missy, as her brother liked to call her. You thought of Jake, who was in charge of the senior boys’ cabin. You knew he’d be pissed that you didn’t wake him up immediately and tell him what was going on. He was very protective of his baby sister. But you didn’t want to involve him just yet. You had to try to find her yourself, first.

You set out to search all the places she frequented. Melissa wasn’t as outgoing as her brother. She had a vibrant personality, but also had introverted tendencies. She cherished her alone time, so it wasn’t odd for her to be at the lake, or the horse stables, writing. But she was always visible, and she had never sneaked off before. And certainly not after dark, either.

These woods were terrifying at night. It was easy to get lost in their vastness. Even a girl who knew her way around could get lost. But you prayed that wasn’t the case.

You took to searching her usual hangout spots. The lake, even though you and Bob had been there a half hour ago, and hadn’t seen her. Sure enough, she wasn’t there. Then, you took a peek in the horse stables. The camp had not yet obtained horses to occupy the stables, so it was just an empty building.

Hopeful, you followed Bob inside, holding your breath as he called out, “Melissa? You in here, honey? It’s Bob Floyd.”

But you were met with dead silence, so deafening it brought a shiver down your spine. “Oh, my God. She’s gone. She’s gone forever. This is all my fault!” You panicked, burying your face in your hands.

Bobby, ever the calm and steady one, gently soothed you. “Hey. Hey! Look at me.”

You lifted your tearful eyes to his face, illuminated by the yellow glow of your flashlight.

“It’s gon’ be okay, alright? We’ll find her. We just need to go get Penny and Pete and tell ‘em what happened. We can get a search party organized. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

Lovingly, he took your hand, and together, you made the trek back toward the main part of camp, where the office, mess hall, and staff quarters were. The entire walk, your mind was spiraling with all the possibilities of what could have happened to Melissa.

Something was wrong. You knew it.

And, as it would turn out, you were, unfortunately, right. Melissa Seresin never was found. Not when you and the other counselors organized a search party. Not when the police got involved. Not when Jake and Melissa’s dad, an agent in the FBI, got his team involved. It was as if she’d vanished into thin air. Gone without a trace.

Jake blamed you. But that was okay, because you blamed yourself, too.

Your own negligence was the reason Melissa was gone. And the police grilled you for it. Much to your utter relief, the Seresins chose not to press charges. But you were left to live with the guilt, and that was punishment enough.

And now, here you were. Six years later. Wounds from the past only partially healed. Presented with an opportunity to go back to the place where it all started, and ended. If you did return, would those wounds reopen, and drain the blood from your veins? Or would those wounds finally heal?

And most importantly, did you have the guts to find out?

One Week Later

A ticket reading Harper, Michigan was clutched tightly in your hand, the paper rumpling from your grip. Your suitcase and duffel bag were beside you, as you stood at the bus depot, waiting for the Greyhound to pull up and take you to your destination.

“I still think you’re crazy for this,” Margie spoke from beside you. She’d come to see you off.

You turned to her, taking in her soft smile, despite her disapproval of your choice. “I know,” you replied.

“But I also understand why you want to do this. I really hope it gives you the closure you’re looking for.”

You threw your arms around your friend’s shoulders, hugging her tight. “Thanks, Mar. I’ll try to give you a call at some point in the next few weeks, but the only phone on the property is the one in the main office and I doubt I’ll have time.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can tell me all about it when you get back,” she assured you.

You took one last good look at her, as you knew you wouldn’t see her for a few months, if you fulfilled your commitment to work the entire camp season. The late morning sun shone down from the sky, illuminating her dark curls. Always so unkempt, but the style suited her.

“I’ll be seeing ya,” you finally said.

She nodded, squeezing your hand. “Take care of yourself. And good luck.”

The bus pulled into the stop as you bid your final goodbyes, and then, you handed off your luggage to the attendant to pack away beneath the bus before you climbed the steps into the large vehicle, flashing your ticket to the driver. You took a seat toward the back, settling in and placing your purse beside you, hoping that you would get two of the tackily upholstered seats all to yourself.

As soon as you were settled, you fished your Walkman out of your bag, unraveling the headphones and placing them on your head. As soon as you hit play, the opening sound of the 1975 Eagles album, One of These Nights, filled your ears.

You had purposely chosen this tape to accompany you on your trip, because it held a lot of nostalgic memories for you. Namely, it had been a gift from your Bobby. He’d given it to you in the beginning stages of your romance, after you’d expressed to him that the album was one of your favorites.

“I want you to have it,” he insisted. “A memento that you can have all the time, to remind you of what a great time we had together here.”

And you did have a great time. But the trauma of Melissa’s disappearance had soured the whole thing. All you had left of Bobby was this tape, and a few braided jute bracelets he had made you, from plant fibers. You still wore them on your wrist to this day.

He had tried to keep in contact with you after the camp shut down. He’d sent letters. Called your home phone. But you never answered. As much as you loved him, the reminder of what had happened was too painful, and you let your connection to him fizzle out.

But as you listened to the familiar cords, a rush of memories flooded you, the wave so intense that it took your breath away. Flashes of Bob’s beautiful face. Twinkling eyes, blushing cheeks, a crinkled button nose. The prettiest laughter you’d ever heard.

Large, warm hands exploring. Lips trailing searing kisses down your sternum. Whispers of your name. Groans of pl–

With a gasp, you snatched the headphones off your head, eyes flickering about, as if someone around you could have heard your thoughts. But everyone else was in their own little world, completely oblivious to the salacious flashbacks you had just experienced.

But they made you warm with shame nonetheless.

You’d be foolish not to admit that you’d thought of Bobby over the years. Looked back on your encounters with fondness. With desire. You’d been sexually involved with a few other people since then, but the entire time, you could only think of him. It was why you’d stopped seeing other people. They weren’t your Bobby.

You wondered if he thought about you, too.

More importantly, you wondered if he’d be returning to Camp Mitchell like you were. Were you ready to face him again? The thought made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

You imagined he’d moved on. He had to. Hell, he probably had a wife and kids already. Imagining such a thing sent a queasy rush through you. You still weren’t over him, and you supposed you never would be. He was your first great love.

But he wasn’t the only person you would potentially face from your past.

Your mind went to the other counselors you’d worked with that fateful summer. Specifically, you thought of Jake Seresin. Surely he wouldn’t return to camp, right? Not after his baby sister had disappeared from that very place. It had to be too painful for him.

Little did you know, everyone you had worked with was also traveling from their own respective homes and cities, headed right for Camp Mitchell, just like you were.

The camp was founded by Pete and Penny Mitchell, a husband and wife duo. They had started it with the best of intentions. It was in its fifth successful year when you came on staff. And that just so happened to be the last year it was in operation.

Until now.

What had made the couple decide it was a good idea to reopen the camp, you had no idea. But you were going to give it a chance. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

But several hours later, as the Greyhound pulled into the station in Harper, a tiny town boasting of a general store, a bus depot, and a long, winding road that led up to the camp itself.

As you stepped off the bus, you realized one very important detail: you had no idea how you were even getting up to the camp. Would they send a driver down to retrieve everyone?

Your question was soon answered when you caught sight of a large white poster board propped against a nearby lamppost. CAMP MITCHELL STAFF WAIT HERE. A DRIVER WILL ESCORT YOU TO CAMP.

With a sigh, you rolled your suitcase over to the post, hoping you wouldn’t have to wait long. And you didn’t. About five minutes later, an old teal-colored truck came down the road, its engine obnoxiously loud. On the side, Camp Mitchell was printed in bold letters.

You straightened, smoothing out your travel-rumpled clothes as you grabbed your belongings, prepared to help load everything into the truck. It didn’t even occur to you that you might know the driver. You expected to meet someone entirely new.

As soon as the vehicle pulled to a stop at the curb, you were already moving to the truck bed, hoisting your duffel bag over the side, letting it land with a satisfying thump.

“Here, let me,” a familiar voice spoke up, and in moments, a pair of hands were stealing your suitcase away, heaving it into the bed.

You looked up at the man assisting you, and your blood ran cold. As he turned from putting your luggage in place, he froze, too. Wide blue eyes, no longer hidden beneath a pair of wireframes, locked with your own.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

But he did. In a voice as smooth and soft as butter, yet breathless with surprise. “Kit?”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Kit. The nickname he’d dubbed you six years ago. It was something so simple. So silly. You’d had an affinity for KitKat bars that summer. They were the only candy bars you liked from the camp store. As a joke, Bobby had said “I should call you KitKat, since you like those things so much.”

And thus, it was shortened to Kit. The name stuck.

Hearing it again made your head spin. You felt woozy on your feet. You swayed a little. A memory flashed in your mind. You and him. Sitting under the old weeping willow. His fingertips wiping chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

It sent a burning ache through your chest.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “B-Bobby.” The first words you’d spoken to him in six years.

He let out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

You gathered yourself, trying to regain your composure. “I didn’t either,” you whispered.

He offered a tentative smile. “That doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you, though.”

You lifted your head, brow furrowed in confusion. “You are?”

“Gosh, I am. It’s been too long. I didn’t…didn’t know what happened to you. You never responded to my calls or letters. I thought maybe…” He wouldn’t speak it out loud. He couldn’t.

But you inferred what he meant from his tone. He’d feared that the trauma of what had happened had been too much for you to handle. That you’d succumbed to it all.

“I was working on myself. Trying to heal.”

He nodded. “Understandable.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled again. “I really am glad to see you, though. You look well.”

You shrugged. “I’m workin’ on it. And I’m glad to see you too.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and you realized how much he’d changed, but also stayed the same. He’d filled out. His shoulders were more broad. Muscular. His glasses were gone, presumably replaced with contacts. His hair, once close-cropped, was longer now, curling at the nape of his neck, peeking out from beneath the baseball cap he wore. His jaw was shadowed with stubble.

He looked like a man.

But there was still that boyish glint in his eyes, and hiding behind his smile. Still that same gentleness reserved particularly for you. It was overwhelming, and you could feel your chest beginning to tighten.

“Are you, uh, are you ready to head up there? Or do ya need a minute?” Bobby asked, his voice low. Laced with concern.

You stepped back. “I thought I could do this. Maybe I can’t.”

He let you have your space. “Take all the time you need.”

The rush of memories flooding you was overwhelming. The last time you saw him. The last thing you said to him.

Six Years Ago

The day you left camp, it was raining. Pouring from the sky in sheets, washing everything in a gray hue that made the world look like a watercolor painting.

The sandy ground squashed beneath your feet as you walked toward that old truck, with the camp’s logo on the side. Your luggage was stuffed into the truck bed, wrapped in plastic garbage bags so it wouldn’t get wet in the downpour.

As you climbed into the cab, Bobby came running out of the main office, making a beeline for the truck. He scrambled to wrench open the door and join you inside, breathing labored as he settled into the seat.

For a few moments, it was silent, save for the sound of him moving to start the engine. He fiddled with the heat dial, hoping to reduce the fog on the windows, as the rain had made the air unseasonably chilly that morning.

You both sat there, staring out the windshield, watching the water trickle down the glass. He made no move to put the truck in gear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Bobby—”

“No, listen to me. I’m sorry it came to this. It shouldn’t have.”

“What’s done is done. Please, let’s just get out of here. I can’t stay in this place another minute.”

Bobby lingered for a moment, his eyes on you, even as you refused to look at him. You were afraid that if you did, you’d melt into a fit of tears. So, with a soft sigh, he put the truck in drive, and began the journey down the winding dirt road that led out of camp.

The trip was silent. You had nothing left to say, because you’d exhausted all your words these last few weeks. Countless hours of interrogation. Recounting that night over and over again. The conclusion was that a girl was missing, and it likely would not have happened if you’d been doing your job. That was a sense of guilt that you would have to live with for the rest of your life.

Bob pulled into the bus station fifteen minutes later, and you didn’t hesitate as you hurried to slide out of your seat, shoes colliding with wet asphalt. Your chest was tight, eyes blurring with tears as you rushed to grab your luggage.

“Would ya stop for a minute?!” Bobby exclaimed, reaching out to gently grab at your arm.

But you jerked away from him. “Please, don’t…don’t make this harder than it is,” you whispered.

He stared at you, brilliant blue eyes wide, filled with emotion. “So, what, you won’t even say goodbye?”

You feared that saying goodbye would break the dam, and you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together. You’d fall into his arms, sobbing your heart out, and you would never get on that bus. The man before you sighed, shaking his head before he moved to haul your suitcase out of the truck, placing the plastic-covered bag on the sidewalk.

“That’s it then?” He spoke, his tone grim.

Squaring your shoulders, you nodded, forcing yourself to hold it together. “Goodbye, Robert.”

You turned to leave, and he watched you go, his heart falling to pieces within him. He was losing you, perhaps forever, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wanted to go after you. Wanted to shake you and tell you to just listen. But you were so entrenched in the trauma of what had happened that he wasn’t sure you could listen to reason at all.

So he let you leave. He watched you climb onto that Greyhound, bound for home, all while he was left there with a wound in his heart, wishing that things could have ended differently. Wishing that your love for each other had been enough to keep you with him.

But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. And that was something he had to live with.

May 1986

Seeing you again was a lot for him. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. Even more so, now, if that was possible. He was also hit with a rush of emotions. He never thought he’d see you again. When he’d received the letter from Penny, inviting him back to camp, he had thought about you, and was sure you wouldn’t come back.

But here you were, standing before him, uncertain and anxious, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and comfort you. But he kept his distance, not wanting to invade your personal space. You weren’t his any longer. He could not touch you the way he used to.

You took a moment to pull yourself together, taking a deep breath, counting to ten, trying to ground yourself. Then, you fixed your posture, and nodded in Bob’s direction. “Alright. I think…I think I’m okay. We can, um, we can leave if you’re ready.”

“Okay. Let’s go then.” He opened the passenger door for you, and you climbed into that old truck once again, just as you had six years ago.

Everything had come full circle.

Bobby rounded the truck and settled into the driver’s seat, and soon, he’d started the engine, pulling away from the curb, turning onto the road that led up to camp. Your gut churned with anxiety. You were really doing this. There was no turning back now.

The radio played softly as Bob drove. Some old country song. Hank Williams, you thought. Its grainy, peaceful tune did well to calm your anxiety. Your hands had stopped trembling.

“It’s been a while,” the man beside you murmured. His accent seemed to have gotten thicker, a slight twang to it.

“I know,” you replied, staring down at your lap. Then, “God, I’m so sorry, Bobby. I shouldn’t have gone no contact like I did. I got the letters you sent. And I got every message you left on my answering machine. But I just…I couldn’t bring myself to respond.”

He shook his head. “No, I get it. I should’ve given you more space. I know everything that happened was a lot for you.”

“But that’s no excuse for me to just ignore you. It wasn’t right of me. I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted. It’s in the past, Kit. We can leave it there.”

It was that easy. A soothing sense of relief washed over you, warming you from head to toe. That exchange made you feel a little more at ease, and the conversation soon shifted.

“Did everyone come back this year?”

He nodded, humming lowly. “Most of ‘em, surprisingly. Bradley, Natasha, Mickey, Reuben, Javy. Half got here last night. The rest came earlier this mornin’.”

You hesitated, picking at a jagged nail on your right hand. “And…Jake?”

Bob was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, him too.”

You recoiled in confusion. “But…why would he come back?”

“Penny didn’t say it in her letter, but they’re doing a dedication ceremony for Melissa. There’s a new garden area they installed in the main part of camp. It’s gonna be called Melissa Jo’s Garden. They had a plaque made and everything. Jake agreed to come for the ceremony. I dunno if he’s staying all summer though.”

“Oh.” It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from your lungs. You had not left things on a good note with Jake. He harbored deep resentment toward you for neglecting to watch over your cabin. He blamed you for his sister’s disappearance.

“He seems to be handling everything alright. He might actually be okay with seeing you again.”

But you weren’t so sure. There was that nervousness again, roiling in your gut. Did you have the nerve to face him? And how would he react? You doubted he’d welcome you back with open arms.

You’d soon find out, because just up ahead, the Camp Mitchell sign could be seen. Large, deep green in color, with white lettering. So familiar, yet so foreign all at once.

You couldn’t believe you were back. What if this turned out to be the most foolish decision you’d ever made?

You didn’t have time to consider that, because Bobby was pulling into the common area in no time, and killing the engine. It was time to face the past you’d been running like hell to get away from.

As Bob got out to gather your luggage, you pushed the old, squeaky passenger door open and let your feet land in the soft sand.

The scent of pine and honeysuckle filled your nose. It sent an intense wave of nostalgia through you. So much had changed, and yet nothing had, all at the same time.

The layout was still the same. Clinic. Main office. Mess hall. Common area. But in the middle of the main entrance was a small garden. Stone paths weaved throughout. Spindly bushes, multicolored flowers, and other plants decorated the soil. Right in the middle of the garden was what appeared to be a large stone, covered with a tarp. You assumed the plaque for Melissa was hidden beneath the tarp.

And then, a voice caught your attention. You looked up to find Penny Mitchell approaching you. Blue cotton shorts, accessorized with a belt. A blue and white striped t-shirt tucked into them. A pair of hiking boots were on her feet. Practical, that one was. Always ready for an outdoor excursion at a moment’s notice.

You braced yourself, unsure of how she would behave toward you. She had rightfully held you responsible for Melissa’s disappearance, and you weren’t sure if she’d moved on from that. But, if she’d invited you back, she had to have at least found it in her heart to forgive you. You hoped so, anyway.

“Welcome!” She said, sweeping her arms out in greeting. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Oh, um, thanks. Me…me too,” you said, unsure of the proper response.

Bobby sidled up beside you. You didn’t feel so alone with him there.

“Did Bob fill you in on everything on the drive up?”

“Kinda, yeah,�� came your answer.

Penny nodded. “Once everyone is settled, Pete and I will take you on a tour. We’ve made a lot of changes these last few months.” Then she looked at Bob. “Would you show her to her cabin? We’ll put her in cabin five.”

“Sure thing,” he replied.

“We’ll have a little orientation meeting after dinner. There’s a whole itinerary we have to go over. I put a schedule in your cabin. Any questions?”

Yeah, lots. You stared at her for a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you invite me back? After everything that happened?”

She regarded you silently, her expression neutral. Then, she said, “Because I believe in second chances. Or, rather, my husband does. He wanted to bring all of you back and start with a clean slate. Whether or not you’ve earned that second chance remains to be seen. But I hope you have.” Her words sent a painful ache through your chest. You didn’t blame her for being wary of you, but it still hurt.

As she excused herself, you were once again left alone with Bobby. “Y’alright?” He gently asked, cadence low and comforting.

You processed his words for a moment. “Yeah…yeah. I’m okay.”

“You need a minute?”

“No. Let’s just get my stuff to my cabin.”

With a single nod, he grabbed your suitcase and duffel bag, moving to walk up the hill. You followed closely behind, letting the rush of memories ebb through you. The cabins were small, build from dark wood, with green paint detailing the shutters and doors. They looked like they’d received fresh coats of paint, but otherwise, everything was still the same.

It didn’t take long to reach cabin five. Bob carried your things inside, and you slowly followed, your heart quickening as you stepped through the door. The scent of cedar and pine was familiar and painful all at once.

This wasn’t the cabin you’d been in when you were here last. You were in cabin two then, just one over from this one. Even so, it looked so eerily similar that for a moment, you were transported back to the summer of 1980.

Funnily enough, Bob had been the one to show you to your cabin for the first time that year, too.

“You’ve still got ‘em.”

Your eyes flickered to him, and your brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“The bracelets I made you.”

Oh. You looked down, eyeing your wrist, where the two braided jute bracelets remained, from when he’d made them for you that year. Dyed faintly with berry juice. Fraying at the edges, but still intact. “Um, yeah…I do. Guess I just could never bring myself to take them off.”

He stepped forward, reaching his hand out. You let him gingerly take your wrist into his palm. His fingers brushed against the braided rope, and his touch sent goosebumps across your skin. “After all these years,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his voice would fail him.

All at once, you were floored with an intense wave of emotion, so powerful it nearly drove you to your knees. It hit you out of nowhere, like a gut punch. “Bobby,” you whimpered.

Shocking blue flickered to meet your wide-eyed gaze, and his face crumpled, bottom lip quivering. “Kit.”

You weren’t sure who moved first, but you were in each other’s arms then, holding on tightly, as if the other would float away if you loosened your grip. The sound of soft sobs reached your ears, and you realized that they were coming from you.

“I never should have walked away from you. Never, ever!” You cried against his chest. “I’m sorry!”

“No, shhh,” he soothed, cradling your head against him. “Don’t do this to yourself. It’s okay, you’re forgiven.”

You pulled back to look at him, shaking your head. “It’s not okay!”

Two large hands came up to hold your face. “It hurt me, alright? I’ll admit that. Broke my heart in two. But I never held it against you, because…because I knew everything you’d been through. I know that summer was the worst time of your life. It made sense to me if you didn’t want to speak to me ever again. I would’ve just been a reminder of everything that happened.”

“But I did want to talk to you, Bobby. I did. I just couldn’t get past the goddamn trauma.”

He shook his head, his face kind. “I know. But we’re here now, together. That’s gotta count for something.” Maybe we’ve been given a second chance, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to move too fast. He was well aware that your romance might never be rekindled. However, he was content to just remain friends with you if it meant that you would be in his life again.

You went quiet, letting your head fall against his chest again. You couldn’t believe you were here, standing in the middle of a cabin at the place where you had lost everything. It felt so surreal. It was as if a million years had passed since you saw him here last, and yet, it also felt like no time had passed at all.

There was so much that needed to be discussed. But there was no hurry. For now, you were just relieved to know that you had not burned a bridge with your first great love. If nothing else went right for you this summer, he was the one good thing that would come out of it.

“I’m glad…I’m glad it was you who picked me up at the station,” you admitted.

Bobby smiled softly. “So am I.” He searched your face, as if memorizing it. “I really thought I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

You hummed in agreement. “Me too. But I guess fate wanted us to meet again.”

“She’s a tricky one, that Fate.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Finally, he parted from you, though the absence of his body made yours feel cold. He didn’t want to overstep. “Well…I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He moved toward the door, but your voice gave him pause.

“Actually, wait for me. I don’t want to face everyone alone. I’d prefer it if we walked together.” Bobby might be the only person in this damn place to accept you again. You wanted to cling to that, and the security it provided.

He gave a single nod. “Alright. You want any help getting settled, then?”

Together, you set about getting everything situated. Bob went around and checked the cabin for spiders, because he knew you weren’t a fan of the little (and sometimes big) guys. He found one, which he very gently coaxed into his hand (murmuring “c’mon, little buddy” as he did) and released it outside.

Once you had your stuff organized, and did a quick clean sweep of the cabin, you were ready to join everyone else. There was a paper posted on the wall just beside the door, detailing the itinerary for counselors and other camp staff. In about fifteen minutes, dinner would be served in the mess hall.

Directly following that, there would be an orientation meeting in the meeting hall, a place where staff meetings usually took place. Assemblies with the campers were also held there. It ws in that hall that you would be forced to face people from your past. Namely, you’d have to face Jake again.

The thought made your stomach churn, and your hands tremble. But then, Bob’s gentle presence brought you back to the presence, and your racing heart calmed down a little.

He offered you a kind smile. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod.

Together, you walked out of that cabin and into the camp grounds, falling into silence as your steps synced up. There were so many things Bobby wanted to say, but he didn’t want to inundate you with questions and confessions, so he left it. He knew you had to be terribly overwhelmed as it was. He didn’t want to be the cause of more stress.

So, silence it was, all the way until you got to the mess hall. He stopped to open the door for you, and you hesitated.

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

You liked the sound of that.

So, with a deep breath and squared shoulders, you stepped through that door, entering the room. Dark wood stretched out before you. The mess hall was a similar design to the cabins, just much bigger. High ceilings with unfinished wooden beams. Wooden floors and walls. Dark green paint detailing. Windows on each wall to let in natural light. A large stone fireplace in the middle of the room.

It was very cozy, but as your gaze shifted to the table of faces to your left, you felt a chill run over you. Here goes nothing.

You appraoched the table, taking in each person seated there. At the head of the table was Pete Mitchell, Penny’s husband. He lifted his head and offered a smile, but you couldn’t quite place the look in his eyes. Beside him, Penny glanced up at you.

Then, to her right, you saw Natasha Trace. Another person you had once had a connection with. She was good friends with Bobby before you met him. The two of them had gone to school, and eventually college, together. Beside her was a woman you’d never seen before, but judging by the way Natasha held her hand, you inferred that they were in a relationship. It was no surprise to you. Nat had always made it clear that she only had eyes for women.

Then, on the other side of the woman was Mickey Garcia, another one of Bob’s good friends. His best friend, in fact. Mickey offered you a smile, and you took that as acceptance of you. He always had been rooting for you, all those summers ago.

Beside Mickey was Javy Machado. You couldn’t get a read on him. His face bore a neutral expression as he regarded you. Back then, he’d been best friends with Jake, and had therefore been completely on his side. You assumed the sentiment was still the same.

Then, of course, there was Bradley Bradshaw. He was Pete and Penny’s surrogate son, in a way. After Bradley’s mother died when he was a teenager, Pete had brought him on to learn how to run the camp. One day, he would take charge of the place, after the husband and wife duo retired.

All of them were seated around that table, but you noticed that one was missing. You had no idea where Jake was. Maybe he wasn’t joining everyone for dinner. Maybe he’d left. A part of you hoped so.

“Wanna sit here?” Bobby asked, motioning to two seats next to Bradley.

You nodded, and he pulled out your chair for you. Once you were seated, he took his own seat beside you, between Bradley and you. The other man leaned over the table, and you got a look at his face for the first time in six years. He’d lost his baby face, and was now sporting a defined jaw. A neatly kept mustache shadowed his upper lip. You thought it suited him. “Good to see you again,” he said.

Bradley’s statement seemed to break the ice, and a few murmurs of greeting echoed around the table. Even still, an air of awkwardness hovered over the group. You wanted to crawl out of your own skin. But you were here now, and there was no turning back.

The food was set up around the table like a regular family dinner. Simple foods. Sandwiches. Veggies and dip. Chips. You grabbed a sandwich, but you found your stomach in knots, and the thought of eating anything nauseated you.

“Well, Penny, you did it. Got us all to come back. Good on you,” Natasha spoke up.

Penny shrugged. “Pete and I have been talking about it for a while. I know the way things ended back in ‘80 was…bad, to say the least. But we really feel that this place has potential, and we could breathe new life into it.”

“What do the Seresins think about that?” Javy asked, his brow raised.

“We think it’s an okay idea,” a voice spoke up from across the room.

The group looked up all at once to see the man stepping through the door. You tensed, taking in a breath. Your heart rate picked up, thudding against your chest as the chill of anxiety crawled along your spine.

“Really?” Natasha piped up.

Jake nodded as he approached the group. “Yeah. Seeing as how Penny wants to dedicate this place to Missy. We all remember how much she loved it here. I firmly believe she’d want it to keep going.”

Penny smiled. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Jake.”

He stopped at the empty end of the table, hands coming up to rest upon the back of the chair there. “But I do have one question.”

“What’s that?” The woman asked.

Jake smiled, but you could tell is wasn’t a real smile. In fact, when you looked at his eyes, the pale green was filled with snake’s venom. “What the fuck is she doing here?” He jabbed his finger in your direction, and you froze, your eyes growing wide.

That was more like the reaction you’d been expecting.

Penny faltered, her smile fading. Beside you, you felt Bob stiffen. But you didn’t dare pull your eyes away from Jake’s accusatory glare.

“I-I just thought that–”

“I don’t care. Look, Penny; I really appreciate you putting this all together, but in what world did you think it was okay to invite the person who had a hand in my sister’s disappearance?”

“She isn’t the one who wanted to invite her. I am.” Pete stood from his seat, his eyes narrow. “I thought that she deserved a second chance. And I wanted you to find it in yourself to allow her that chance.”

“Oh, really? What, is she gonna bring my sister back? Hm?” Jake’s gaze was so cold. You wished the ground would swallow you up. How on earth could you have thought this was a good idea?

“No, but–”

“If she stays, I’m refusing the dedication. She’s the reason I lost Missy. She doesn’t get to just stand there and pretend she’s sorry, while my parents and I are still grieving.”

Your eyes had blurred with tears, and your chest was tight. You should never have come.

But then, “leave ‘er alone, Jake.” Bobby stood up, facing the other man.

“Oh, you coming to her rescue is rich, Baby on Board. Wasn’t it your dick she was sucking when my kid sister went missing?”

The room went dead silent.

Bob took a breath. Then two. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. She’s here, whether you like it or not. And she deserves another chance, just as much as anybody.”

“No, you know what? You’re right. This was a mistake. I should never have come,” you spoke up, rising from your chair.

But Bobby grabbed your arm. “No. Don’t let him drive you away.” His eyes were pleading.

You pulled away from his grasp, sadly shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Then you turned to Jake. “I wish I could bring your sister back. But I can’t. You need to know that I cared about her. And I should have been more thorough when I did bed check that night. I regret it every day, and I’ve lived with that guilt for the last six years. But my guilt is nothing compared to the loss you and your parents have had to endure. And for that, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll leave, if that’s what you’d prefer. I never should have come in the first place.”

With that, you ducked your head, pushing your chair out of the way as you scrambled toward the exit. You could hear Bob calling your name, but you ignored him, your legs carrying you quickly toward the door. Your vision had tunneled, and your chest was heavy. You had to get out of that building. You felt like you were suffocating. Like someone had pulled a plastic bag over your face.

You threw your arms out in front of you and shoved the door open, letting out a great heaving sob as you stumbled down the front steps. You made it a few feet from the stairs before you leaned forward, hands braced on your knees as you fell apart.

“Oh, God!” You cried. You heard footsteps quickly approaching. It made you whirl around. “Just leave me the fuck alone!” Came your wail.

“No! I don’t care what he says, you deserve to be here!”

It was Bob, you realized.

“What do you want me to do, then?! He doesn’t want me here, Bob! And I never should’ve come. So just…just pull the truck around and I’ll get my luggage and get the fuck out of here.”

“No.”

“Either you take me back to the station, or I’ll get someone else to do it!”

“No other buses are running until tomorrow morning, so you can’t leave anyway! You’re stuck here for the night.”

“Goddammit!” You yelled. “I just want to leave!”

He grabbed you by the shoulders. “You’re not listening to me! I can’t handle watching you walk away from me again. I lost you once, and I’ll be damned if I let Jake Seresin be the reason I lose you again!”

And then, silence.

“Oh.”

He released your shoulders suddenly, his face stricken. “I-I’m sorry. I’m coming on way too strong. This is probably super overwhelming for you and I’m just making it worse.”

“No. No, you…you aren’t.” A pause. And then, “I don’t want to walk away from you again, either.”

“If you want to leave, then I’ll take you to the station tomorrow morning. But I just want you to try and stay. I know Jake doesn’t want you here, but I’m sure Pete can convince him to at least give you a chance.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

However, back inside the mess hall, a discussion was happening. “I’m sorry, Jake. I know we should have told you we invited her back. I take full responsibility for that oversight. But your parents…they knew she was coming. We checked with them beforehand. Your mom is of the belief that we should give her another chance.”

“What?” Jake asked, incredulous.

“Yeah. So, I know it’s hard for you, but if your mom is willing to forgive, then I’m going to respect that, and give this girl a chance. You know she’s lived with this guilt for so long. I think that’s punishment enough.”

The blonde sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t like it. If it was up to me, she’d be on the next Greyhound outta here. But if my mom wants her here…” He looked out the window, eyeing you and Bob as you spoke to each other. “It boggles my damn mind, but I’ll respect my mom’s wishes. That doesn’t mean I forgive her, though. I don’t think I ever will. But you go ahead and keep her on staff. Something tells me it ain’t gonna end well, but what do I know?”

And with that, Jake stalked off in a huff.

He swung the screen door open, and your head shot up, your eyes widening as you saw him coming down the steps. Bobby took a protective step toward you.

“You can stay,” Jake said as he walked past. “But only because my mom is the one who wanted you here.” Then he leaned in close. Well, as close as Bob would allow him to get. “But just know this. If you fuck up in any way, shape, or form, I’ll ship you back home myself. We clear?”

“Y-yes,” you responded with a curt nod.

“Good.”

And with that, Jake Seresin walked away.

You let out an unsteady breath, your shoulders slumping. Bobby looked at you, his gaze questioning. “What are you gonna do?”

You shook your head. “I…I don’t…”

“You don’t need to decide now. Just sleep on it. Make your decision with a fresh mind, alright?”

“Yeah,” came your whispered reply. “Yeah, that’s–that’s what I’ll do.”

He took his baseball cap off, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot for you. Do ya wanna just turn in early? I’m sure they’d understand if you skipped orientation.”

You considered his words, and finally, you shook your head. “No. I’ll, uh, I’ll try to go, and see how I do. But I think I’m going to just go and lay down for a while until then.”

“Want me to walk you back?”

“I’d like that.”

With a soft smile and a nod, Bobby began to guide you back toward the cabins. Your hands were shaking, and your head was spinning. It felt like someone had shoved their hands into your chest and taken hold of your lungs, squeezing them with all their might.

It was a painfully uncomfortable feeling, and you hoped that it would pass soon. But as long as you were here, in this place that held so many memories, it would probably remain a permanent fixture in your body. The only thing that soothed it was Bobby’s presence.

Even after all these years, and after the sour note you’d left him on, being near him still felt so comforting and peaceful. It was an odd, but welcome, sensation. You hadn’t expected it to be this way. When you thought of seeing him again, you imagined it would be painfully awkward, or that maybe he would refuse to speak to you.

But this was Robert Floyd you were talking about. He didn’t hold grudges. And if he did, then he’d been deeply hurt beyond repair. It was a relief to know that things were not beyond mending between you. At the moment, you were too overwhelmed and emotional to even consider what it might mean for you in the future. You were just grateful that he was near you again.

So much had changed. When you’d left him, he’d been more gangly. Twenty-two years old. Large wireframes perched atop his nose. All round cheeks and softer features. Now, he seemed a little taller. Or maybe, his slight bulk made him appear so. Gone were those gangly limbs, replaced with muscle that had been defined by physical labor.

His hands, though. His hands had stayed the same. They’d always been big, but he’d grown into them. They suited him now. Strong and steady. Farmer’s hands.

“You want me to come get you when it’s time for orientation?” The low cadence of his voice jarred you from your daydream.

“If you would? I forgot to pack my battery alarm clock, so have no way of keeping time.”

He nodded. “Sure. I can get ya one of those clocks. I actually have two, you can have one of mine.”

“You sure?”

“Yep, I don’t need two anyway. I’ll bring it to you later tonight.”

You shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Together, you stopped just outside your cabin, lingering at the foot of the stairs. Bob’s face was gentle, his eyes kind. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s a for you lot to be back here. And Jake didn’t help anythin’ by reacting the way he did. But if no one else is happy to see you, I want you to know that I am. I’ll respect whatever decision you make, but I really do hope you’ll stay.”

You considered his words, mulling them over in your mind. He didn’t expect you to decide at that very moment, and you knew your brain was too overworked to make that decision then as it was. So, the best you could do was nod your head. “I’ll see you in a bit, Bobby.”

He hummed, mouth quirking into a smile. “See you in a bit, Kit.”

You watched him walk away, his footsteps sure, his stance confident. He had a swagger to him that he didn’t have six years ago. It suited him well.

With a soft sigh, you finally turned and made your way into the cabin. As soon as the screen slammed behind you, you surged forward, collapsing into your bed, which was right near the door. Immediately, you buried your face in the pillow, and everything you’d been keeping inside came spilling out of you in bitter waves.

What had you gotten yourself into?

to be continued...

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@withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @up-thereinthesky @oldfangirl30 @attapullman @sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @fairyheart @hangmanapologist @laracrofted @callsignspark @bobfloydsbabe @milesmillergf @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @floydsmuse @senawashere @creatchie8

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd smut #bob floyd angst #story: six summers

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luvergirl777 · 7 months

Text

If Not With You - N.S

Pairing | Neteyam Sully x Human Reader

Word Count | 19k, whoops.

Genre | Acquaintances to lovers? Fluff, they're both dumb and can't drop a hint to save their life, SMUT.

Summary | Neteyam never understood you, and he doesn't think he ever will. Your skin is a different color than his, you're a solid 5 feet shorter than him, your native language is different than his, he could go on forever. He doesn't think he'll ever understand, until he watches you struggle with a knife for 10 minutes and graciously offers his services to you. Suddenly, he's bitten off more than he realizes.

Index | Bickering back and forth, the reader takes every chance she can get to be snarky, Neteyam does too though, purring Neteyam, two idiots in love, smut, creampie, soft!dom Neteyam (service dom kind of), a brief mention of breeding lol. Let me know if I missed anything that should be noted!

You confuse Neteyam in almost all aspects of your being. You’re human, so painfully alien as you run around the high grounds, scurrying to climb around the home tree to the best of your ability, scurrying to provide his grandmother with herbs for the wounded. So painfully human as you sit on the ground, weaving clothes 3 times your size for protection for warriors during time of battle. Painfully human as you cling to Kiri’s ikran (it’s the “least scary” you say) when you join foraging trips, not used to flying. And so painfully human despite having an Avatar sleeping less than 20 feet away, perfectly fine and ready to be used. His father had mentioned something about you not feeling comfortable or welcomed in your avatar body, not taught how to use it properly yet, somehow feeling more accepted as a human.

You’ve lived your entire life here as a human, mostly. You were given your avatar more recently within the last couple of years, the Avatar taking a while to fully grow and become yours. Still, he’s maybe only seen it once. You wear the clothes, join the songs, dance in the festivals, forage and gather, weave, fish, help the wounded, everything you can physically do, you do. Because of your size, you sometimes struggle with preparing, gathering, and foraging through the forest. It takes you much more effort and time to scale fallen logs and rocks than others. It’s never made any sense, it still doesn’t to him. As you prepare a sturmbeest with some of the others for tonight’s meal, you bewilder him even more.

“Here, let me help you.” Neteyam offers quickly as he sees you struggling to cut. He's afraid you’re going to slip and hurt yourself, the effort it takes to cut makes your hands shake where they hold your blade. It would be no issue in your avatar body, he’s sure of it but he doesn’t bring it up. After cutting through the hard part, he’s quick to hand you back the small knife to avoid taking over your village duty. “You know if-“

“If I was in my Avatar body I’d be able to do it?” You finish his sentence, glancing up at him. While you quickly divert your gaze, he catches the small look of shame you have before you return to the task that requires all your attention.

“No, no. I was going to say if you need help, you can just call again.” He smiles, shaking his head softly. At this, you can’t help but jokingly scoff at him.

“But you were thinking about it.”

“Hmmm, I was not! You have no proof.”

“That’s how everyone thinks, it’s fine to admit it Neteyam.” You chuckle, resuming your complete focus on the sturmbeest you’re more determined than ever to cut up now thanks to him. “Plus, shouldn’t you be preparing for the meal? Making sure everyone is accounted for and what not.” You're essentially telling him to get back to his tasks.

“I am, making sure you’re accounted for. The way you’re wielding that knife I'm afraid you’ll go missing.” He teases you, pointing out the amount of effort you’re using to cut through the meat. “Also, if you don’t mind me asking since you brought it up, FYI, why aren’t you in your Avatar?”

You sigh, and for a brief moment Neteyam thinks he’s overstepped his welcome. “No one really taught me how to use it. I suppose it’s all the same mechanics as controlling myself, but to an extent I don't feel connected. Your father said he felt the same at first, and offered to teach me but got busy with olo'eyktan duties, which is understandable. I haven't felt comfortable enough to ask him, it takes a lot of time that I'm sure he doesn’t have, you know?”

“I can help you.” Neteyam offers before he has a chance to rethink it.

“I think you’re also too busy, future olo'eyktan .” You turn your attention to him for a brief moment before resuming. “Plus, it’s not the culture or village life. I've grown up here, I understand that much. It’s the connection, and being in my body. I don't think you’d understand what I mean.”

“I think you just need practice in a safe area where you don't have to worry. I can be your lookout while you get used to your body, who better than me?” Neteyam’s confidence grows as he offers you his gracious services. His smirk threatens to fall a bit as you glare up at him, but he’s determined to convince you regardless.

“Your dad.” He interrupts your train of thought with a pained expression, making you giggle. “But I suppose since he’s unavailable, you’re the next best option.”

“Ouch.” He jokes, placing a hand over his heart. “So we'll start tomorrow, little human?” He cheekily adds, beginning to step away from you to return to his head counting job.

He smiles softly as you stick your tongue at him, turning back to finish your job as well. His heart beats hard in his chest, his adrenaline slowly beginning to run off as he checks to make sure everything is going as it should. As he sits next to his mother, the slight panic begins to settle in as he waits for you to join the feast.

His mother notices the odd, out of place, anxious energy from her son. He’s not usually like this, his demeanor is off. “Neteyam?” She asks, nudging him softly.

Neteyam faces her with more confidence now, attempting to get his mood back. “Yes, mother?”

“Are you feeling okay?” She reaches out for a brief moment, pressing her hand against his forehead. At this, he smiles softly before pushing her hand away by the wrist. She smiles softly at him, returning to talking to the others. Small cheers erupt as everyone begins to bring in the food, carrying trays and trays of food. He catches a small glimpse of you, following behind the others carrying trays. You’re not carrying anything, preoccupied with cleaning your knife before placing it back on your hip. You settle down behind most of the others, allowing others to get their food before you. He’s extremely observant of you now, he always has been, but it’s even more now.

Dinner goes by as always, everyone talking, joking, telling stories with one another. You conversate every now and then, happily listening to stories that the other villagers tell you about hunts and raids they have been on. He feels hyper aware of your presence now, watching as a tail jokingly wraps around your waist and knocks you off balance. You smile, jokingly hitting the other people while saying something he can't pick up. Your smile is pretty, so pretty.

It almost feels impossible tearing his eyes away, but eventually he does. He begins to actually engage in his family conversation, listening to his mother and fathers stories. He can't wait for the next day to come, fighting to fall asleep. It feels like hours before he dozes off.

Neteyam is grabbed by his father before he can actually slip away, a firm hand on his shoulder stopping all of his momentum. “Where are you off to?” His father asks, tugging slightly to turn him around to face him. Neteyam groans in his head, tail flicking slightly behind him. His ears quickly pin down as a reflex.

“To the labs.” He answers plainly, hoping his father just lets him go with no further questioning. It’s all hopeful thinking, he knows that he will be questioned further. He wants to go, you’re probably waiting for him there now. You’re always on time, never keeping anyone else waiting on you for too long.

“For what? Are you not coming on watch today?” Jake asks, the grip on his shoulder tightening slightly. Neteyams ears flatten further, tail flicking more aggressively.

“I promised someone I would help them in the lab.” Neteyam answers. “I will be back later today.”

“Later today?!” Jake asks, releasing him in return for putting his hands on his hips. At the commotion, Neytiri comes out to see what’s going on. Jake gives her the rundown, “He is skipping watch to help the labs.” At this, Neteyam groans softly, the description not at all accurate or reflecting him.

“Sa’nok,” Neteyam mumbles softly, “I promised,”

“He hasn’t missed a watch in weeks.” Neytiri points out. “He’s also helping someone, he doesn’t need to come on every watch. Go, Neteyam.”

At this, he bows softly before hightailing it out of the area as quickly as possible. He thanks Eywa for his mother intervening, moving as quickly as possible to get to the labs. Sure enough, you’re waiting for him inside. You seem agitated already, sitting on one of the tables as you swing your legs back and forth. He’s quickly apologizing for keeping you waiting, explaining his situation as quickly as possible.

“It’s okay, Nete.” You shrug, hopping down and walking over to the pods, known as link units. “Are you sure you want to do this? I’m gonna look like a baby deer and complain the entire time.” You whine, trying to convince him otherwise.

“Are you trying to get me not to, or do you not want to? It sounds like you don’t want to.”

“I’m scared.” You admit, sighing softly. Neteyam offers a solemn expression, encouraging you softly as he pops open the link pod. He helps you climb in, offering a hand as you hop backwards into the memory foam. The beads on your chest cover clink loudly at the momentum, filling the otherwise silent lab. Max enters the lab, late, but still there. You trust him the most to help you link and check all of your vitals, others making you too nervous.

“I’m going to come and get you once I make sure you link, where is your Avatar?” Neteyam asks as you lay down, holding the top of the pod as he leans down to talk with you. Your breathing is irregular, nerves shaking you to your cure. “I will be there, Y/n, to get you. I’ll be there for every step.”

“My Avatar is all the way at the high camp.” You tell him, “I’ll wait for you though.”

“I’ll be there, as fast as possible.” He ensures you, stepping away to let Max do his job to link you to your Avatar. Neteyam fiddles with the oxygen mask around his neck, playing with the strings as he watches you get settled in. As the pod closes, he turns to the screens that show your vitals. Your breathing is increased, but Max explains that’s to be expected when someone hasn’t linked for a while, “Normal nerves,” He calls them.

“She should be in, I would hurry to make sure she's not freaking out.” And Neteyam does. He doesn’t think he’s ever flown as fast before, his ikran cutting through the air. He gets to high camp as fast as possible, running to the Avatar sleeping area. You’re sitting up, playing with your hands as you wait for him.

“Y/n! Look at you! You look like me.” Neteyam beams happily, running over to you. He helps you up, offering his hand as you stand. You stand easily, but still have a look of uneasiness written across your face. He notices your ears remain down, pinned back with worry. Every now and then, they’ll perk up for the briefest moment before going back. Cute. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel fine, I just think I'm a bit hungry since I haven't been in this body for a while.” You explain, beginning to walk through the Avatar area. Your Avatar reminds him of his siblings, five fingers and toes, eyebrows, etc. You’re walking fine, a bit wobbly on certain areas of uneven terrain, checking a couple of times behind you to make sure he’s close. The camp is busy as always, people running around to fulfill their duties. You navigate the commotion easily though, heading over to the edge of the base.

“Are you okay to fly?” Neteyam asks, clicking and calling out to his ikran. You nod, shakily, but still saying yes. His ikran is quick to land on the rocks, calming down as Neteyam connects his tswin and readies to mount. He gets on first, reaching to grab your hand and help you sling your leg over. “You can use the saddle and the hold here.” Neteyam speaks, guiding you to sit. He reaches around you, holding your hand and wrapping it around the leather hold. The strong animal flaps his wings underneath you, making your nerves set in as you already begin slipping off to one side.

“You’re okay, It’ll get easier once he’s moving.” He reassures you, using one arm to wrap around your waist, pulling you back upright. A small blush spreads across your face, your bodies extremely close to one another as he’s focused on your well-being.

“What about you? Are you going to be okay with flying?” You ask, seeing as he has no secure hold. He’s not using the saddle, nor the holds.

“Yes, I will be okay.” He reassures, holding where his tswin is connected. You trust him, and you trust his ability to fly more than anyone else. Even still, nerves bubble in your chest. “I’ll fly as carefully as possible for you, just hold on, okay?”

“Yes, I will.” You nod, tightening the hold on the leather underneath your palms. Even though you prepared yourself, the shriek that leaves your body as his ikran drops is involuntary. You can hear Neteyam’s faint chuckle in your ear, leaning forward as he guides his ikran. His hair brushes along your shoulder as he leans forward, goosebumps spreading across your arms. His arm tightens the slightest bit around your waist, ensuring you don’t lean too far forward and lose your balance. “Where are we heading?” You yell over your shoulder, the wind loud in your ears.

“To find you something to eat!” Neteyam calls back, “We’ll be walking around the forest, give you some time to get used to your body without anyone else being around to pressure you.”

You nod, looking forward to observe where you’re going. Neteyam flies as smoothly as possible for you, communicating to his ikran to stay calm as much as possible. The forest is extremely dense, flying through the trees and hanging vines with expert skill. Neteyam once again chuckles as he sees your grip tighten, both on the leather hold and your legs where they squeeze his ikran for purchase. Landing, the jungle is dense as he hops down.

You land right after, the grass underneath your feet soft and plush. “Are we finding fruit?” You smile, beginning to trail off from him. Neteyam has to hide the smile, unconnecting as he dismisses his Seze. The grass is so soft underneath your feet, each step cushiony. You’re good at foraging, using all your skills and knowledge you’ve learned over the years. “Here, Nete,” You smile softly, handing him two fruits. Neteyam becomes your Navi basket, arms carrying everything you collect. He's more than happy to follow you around, eventually coaxing you to come sit once you’ve got enough.

“You need to eat,” Neteyam says, soft but firm as he begins making his way to the river. He finds a soft area of grass, plopping down before softly letting the fruits follow. You join, watching Neteyam carefully as he dips the fruits into the river, cleaning them before handing them over with a big smile. “They’ll taste even better in this body,” He almost promises.

And they do. They genuinely do.Your taste buds are alive and so heightened, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you eat. “It’s good,” You grin, devouring the fruits that your body so desperately needs, gaining some semblance of energy back.

“Do you still feel okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s still weird, I know it’s me, but it doesn’t feel like me. Moving is weird, everything is a conscious effort.” You try to explain to him.

“Does that include your ears being down?” He asks, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he teases softly. “It's cute, don’t get me wrong, but not normal.”

Once again, you have to consciously pull your ears up like the natural position they’re held at. When you forget, they fall back down. Neteyam pins his ears, signaling to you that you’re doing it again. It works perfectly, your ears perking up once more.

“See? It’s too hard.” You smile, “We should just go back, say we tried hard.” You plead, making him laugh. You know he’d never, too much determination and pride in his chest to ever allow it.

“You just need more time in this body, I’m sure of it.” Neteyam answers, shaking his head no as you whine. “We haven’t even got you running yet.”

At this you groan, flopping backwards on the soft grass as you complain. You quickly get lost in it, the ground so soft, the sun so warm on your skin. It's comforting, much needed vitamin D.

Despite ALL of your complaining, which was a lot, your body does prove more efficient than your human body. It moves through the terrain easier, scales the rocks and jumps over the fallen trees with no problem, runs as if it was made to do only that. Climbing was nothing you've ever wanted to do until now, and you find yourself playing in the trees like a child again. Climbing as a human is too hard, but this is easy, so it’s FUN.

“Neteyam! You’re not joining!” You call from treetop, Neteyam watching carefully from the ground. He follows along when you stray too far, watching with careful eyes. It's endearing, how careful he is.

“It's okay, you’re doing great!” He calls happily.

You take it as enough confirmation that he’s okay with what’s happening, you having fun while he remains down there. Soon enough, he’s running on the ground to keep up with you. Not that he minds, he has the stamina for it. “Are you having fun!?” He happily calls, splashing through a shallow river as he follows you.

“Yes! This is amazing,” You answer before beginning to come down. Your hands and feet are sore, unused to the rough nature of aggressive use. You don’t pay much attention, joining Neteyam in the cool water of the river, finding some relief. “It's nice, feels nice.”

Neteyam fights off the urge to say “I told you so,” instead providing you with encouraging praise. Neteyam wants to teach you everything, he almost itches for it. He's already making a list in his head of everything he could offer you that you don’t know in this body.

Hunting, riding, flying, swimming, scaling home tree, fighting if you’d like, archery. You know how to weave, arguably better than him, so that’s not something he can claim he taught. Along with foraging and gathering, healing, you also know the dances and songs, and basic craft skills that he can’t claim credit for. But what he can, he will. For today though, he lets you run, and play, and frolic through the grass. He follows you, never losing sight of his surroundings. He'll provide some knowledge here and there, but nothing too crazy.

You’re exhausted as the sun begins to set, leaning against Neteyams seated body. “We should head back,” You mumble, praying he’ll let you go back this time. He agrees, not wanting to stay out too late for the creatures that come out.

“We should, we can eat with the people,” He sees another learning opportunity. He stands, leaving you to support your own weight. You watch as he clicks and calls, his ikran coming down soon after. You can feel the exhaustion from the soon-ride, getting up with a grunt.

“What if I just hold onto you?” It’s a real question, you’re trying to find out if that would be more or less tiring.

“If you'd like,” He blushes the slightest bit as he faces away from you. Neteyam gets on first, now sitting on the saddle and holding the leather hold. He helps you climb behind him, “You still sure?” He asks, double checking with you since you have no secure holds. Your arms wrap tightly around his waist, torsos flush together. You can hold here, and with your legs.

“Yes, this is okay,” It feels slightly unsafe compared to the saddle, but it’s less taxing on your body. You also can’t see much over his frame, but you don’t mind. “Thank you, Neteyam, it’s fun,” You talk with him. Your voice vibrates off him, bouncing off his skin.

“Of course,” He beams even though you can’t see it. You arrive at the home tree soon enough, high in the trees where the ikrans stay. Neteyam leads you to the people for dinner, extremely careful that you don’t lose your balance in the high branches. When you have to hop down a considerable amount, he’s extra careful, going first as an example. He waits each time for you, always ready to catch if he ever needs to. With a relieved breath, he doesn’t need to, and you both make it to dinner without a hitch.

“Sa’nok, Sempul,” Neteyam greets his family, bringing his hand to his forehead. You immediately follow along, greeting the leaders of your clan. “Would you mind Y/n eating with us tonight?”

“Oh, no no it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to intrude-“

“Of course,” Jake smiles happily, genuinely excited to see you in your Avatar body. His hand lands softly onto your shoulder, examining your body. “How’s it feeling?”

“Good! Good. It’s a lot of fun,” You smile, giving him a brief overview of your day spent doing nothing but pushing it. He grins, remembering his own days of running with his body for the first time. He tells you the story, beckoning you to sit with his family as he does so. You do, sitting next to Neteyam and Kiri. You know Kiri well, always working together in the healer's hut with her and Tsahìk.

You know Lo’ak as well, but the two of you don’t talk much besides brief, common interactions. Regardless, you have nothing against him. And Tuk? Tuk is just adorable. You briefly remember gifting her an ikran toy when she was younger, handmade by you. You’re sure she has no recollection of it, much too young. But you don’t mind at all. You all share stories, you mainly listen as you don’t have many that are as exciting as theirs. Neytiri’s intrigue you the most, ears naturally perking up every time she speaks about something.

Neteyam notices, a small smile spreading across his face as he eats. They flatten when silence takes over the conversation, obviously uncomfortable. The night wraps up like always, but Neteyam is sure to check on not only your Avatar, but also your human body. He makes sure both of your forms get to bed safely before he returns to his family's area, settling in.

The days turn into weeks of getting used to your body. Neteyam teaches you everything he can, everything that comes to mind. You’re surprisingly good at archery, but guilt kills you when hunting. Even with the knowledge of clean, respectful kills, it’s not your favorite. Riding also comes natural to you, connecting with Pa’li as if you were born native. You become comfortable in your Avatar body, trusting your body’s movements and mind. You run, scale, leap, climb, crawl, swim, everything as if you were born in this body. As you land clean kill after clean kill, and join in on the hunting festivals, Neteyam begins to push you softly in the direction of iknimaya, taming your ikran.

“Neteyam, it’s scary.” You defend yourself as you prepare meat for tonight’s dinner. Your Avatar body slices through easily, never struggling for more than a couple of moments. “They’re scary.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs, “But-“

“Neteyam, I don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s scary, and I could die.”

“You can die at any time.“ You send him a strong glare, ending the conversation without another word being shared with each other. You’re done talking about it for tonight, placing the meat on a serving platter. You don’t talk about it for a while, going on about your lessons and training, learning more and more each day.

You’re out in the forest, a routine day unfolding. Your body and mind feel like yours, Neteyam also begins to wander away from you further and further. If it comes down to it, you can defend yourself to some extent. He's doing just that when a blood curdling scream rips through the forest, catching his attention immediately. His feet are moving faster than his brain, running.

“NETEYAM!” You scream again, feet remaining planted firm in front of the animal in front of you. Your heartbeat is rapid as you stare down the creature, trying to figure out its next course of action. Stepping a couple of feet back, your fingers immediately begin to reach for the knife that’s secured across your chest. “It’s not moving, Nete. I don’t know what to do.” You speak, more calmly now as the palulukan has made no action to pursue you yet. Still, you unsheathe your knife just in case. It wouldn’t help much if it attacked, but it gives you some peace of mind for the current circumstances.

“Is it not pursuing?” Neteyam asks, and you can hear his faint footsteps running to get to you in the distance. It’s still in the same place it was, still staring at you.

“No! It’s just staring at me!” You yell back, trying to hold your ground as much as possible. Your knees shake the slightest bit, which you try to calm. If you turn and run, you could possibly outsmart it. However, as soon as you turn you’re sure it would immediately begin its pursuit on you. Neteyam eventually finds you, keeping his distance as he accesses the situation as much as possible.

“I know what I’m going to say, you will not like-“

“Nete!”

“I know, I know! But step up to it. Slowly, you’re not pouncing on her, but stepping up.” You want to scream at him, it sounds like a stupid idea. However, you don’t think there’s anyone you trust more with your general well-being than him. “Trust me! If something happens, I'm right behind you, jumping in.”

“You promise?” You never break your eye contact, but you know Neteyam is staring directly at you. Taking a step, you can hear the faint “Promise” that Neteyam mumbles out softly. Another step comes, and the creature still hasn’t moved a single inch from where you were first confronted by it. Now you’re in attacking distance again, if you reached fully out you would surely touch it on the head. For the first time, it moved. It leans down, and it takes everything in your willpower to not start instinctively booking it at the first sign of movement, “Neteyam?”

“Tsaheylu, make the bond. She’s offering to you.” Neteyam explains, stepping a bit closer as the tense environment of the situation has lessened. “It’s okay, she’s submitting to you, Y/n.”

You’re still too afraid to break eye contact to look at Neteyam, your eyes never leaving her as you reach back for your kuru. As soon as the tsaheylu is made, a rush of relief washes over you. “Thank Eywa, thank Eywa,” You mumble, walking to its side and swinging yourself over the animal. Your heartbeat calms down with the animals, and you finally are able to feel her strength and power. She's unlike anything else you've ridden, not a ikran, not pa’li. Once you’re fully bonded, Neteyam feels safe enough to approach.

“Scary?” He giggles, his hand coming to rest on your calf where it sits on the palulukan’s side. You can feel his thumb run across your skin comfortingly, making you smile as you face away from him.

“Just a bit, she feels…kind?” You ask, despite him having no idea. “Her thoughts, her power and strength, is kind?”

“I see, you feel her? You’re getting the hang of this whole, tsaheylu, kuru thing.” He smiles at you, walking behind you and hopping on. Even at the sudden movement, she still doesn’t think of any harm or reaction in a negative manner. You absolutely beam, reaching forward and petting the space at her forehead essentially. “Should I hold on?” Neteyam chuckles behind you.

“Oh yes, 100%. Strong.” Is all you offer him before beginning to move, just walking but still feeling the absolute power she holds.

“I trust you.” Neteyam smiles, leaning forward to wrap his arms around your waist. The contact makes your face flush hot, immediately pushing it away from your thoughts as you begin to run, easily jumping and clearing anything in the forest floor. Once again, it’s a completely different ride than you’re used to, you and Neteyam whooping, laughing, and shrieking when you particularly jerk and almost slide off. Slowing to a stop, you find yourself at the edge of the river. You gently rub her shoulder in warning as you slide off, patting her gently. You break the tsaheylu, watching in case she flees. Instead, she stays, drinks water, settles down with the both of you where you sit on the soft grass.

“What about her family?” You ask Neteyam as if he would know the answer. Neteyam shrugs softly, unsure himself. He has no answer for this, logically.

“She seems to want you more.”

“I see,”

“Y/n, you are more than ready for iknimaya,”

There’s a loud sigh filling the peace of the forest. You hum, finally giving in. “Fine, Neteyam.” You sigh, watching as the thanator creeps towards you, laying down next to where you’re seated. “I’ll complete my iknimaya.” You nod, finalizing your statement.

“The next trip is in one week,”

You nod. You have one week to fully prepare yourself and the people around you. If anything, you’ll retreat at the first sign you can’t do it. Still, you dread the trip.

You and Neteyam decide not to bring your thanator back, scared of the commotion she may cause. You promise to return to her in the forest in the opening you met at, bidding her goodbye in the meantime. With one final reassuring pet, she runs off.

The days creep by, anxiety beginning to find its hold over you for your upcoming rite of passage completion.

“It's my day off from lessons, Neteyam!” You poke your tongue out at him as he peels open your hammock, giving you no other option but to fully wake up. The hammock, suspended on two branches of the home tree, sways hazardously as he kneels down. He's almost, he is, towering over your human form like this, poking and prodding you until you get up.

“Just because it’s your day off doesn’t mean we can’t hang out. What, I have to make reservations now?” Neteyam jokes, beaming at you as you finally rise, easily jumping onto a nearby branch to get going. Even as you stretch out completely, he’s a solid 3 feet taller than you still. “I was thinking we can just chill today, though. Nothing crazy, no village duties.”

“Your father let you off village duties?”

“Well no, but-“

“He’s gonna end up hating me.” It’s half joking, half not. You stop walking, instead turning around to face him. “Go back,” You chuckle, pushing Neteyam’s stomach. There’s enough force for little imprints to appear in his skin, but not nearly enough to move the giant. “I'm serious, he’s gonna start blaming me for you being absent all the time.”

“Hmmm,” Neteyam pretends to think for a moment, tapping his bottom lip. “No.” Before you have a chance to react, Neteyam easily grabs both of your wrists in one palm. With one easy motion, you’re being swung through the air before landing on his back. He chuckles as you smack his shoulder for endangering your life like that, swinging you over the open area of the home tree sleeping area. (Even though you know he’d never drop you, even accidentally.) “C’mon, don’t worry about him. I'll be the one answering anyway.”

“I’m serious, you’re gonna get yourself in trouble. Like Lo’ak.” You chuckle, and he scoffs at the accusations.

“Never in a million years,” While the two of you talk, Neteyam easily scales the home tree and arrives at the ikrans in no time at all. “Plus, we can’t get in trouble if he can’t find me.”

“This is stupid, and you know it.” You smile hard despite all your scolding, a specialness filling your chest that Neteyam would want to spend your days with you, even though it meant trouble for him. Once again, he nonchalantly shakes his head before calling down his ikran, quickly calming her for your sake.

“Come on, we only have all day.” He jokes, offering his palm for you to climb up. You still hate flying, especially as a human just because of the size and how scary trying to hold on is. (Balance isn’t your thing and Neteyam is basically an expert flyer, aka, crazy ass flyer.) Still, you suck it up as he takes you to your destination. It's a familiar area, pretty river, pretty flowers, and nearby fruit trees that you’re for sure going to devour when the time comes.

You beam, hopping down before Neteyam and running over to dip your feet in the clear water. If Neteyams is lucky, you won’t start a water fight the moment he walks over. He approaches with caution, attacked one too many times to not be. Even as no attack ensures, he’s still sure to sit down carefully in case there’s some other sneak attack waiting around the corner.

Instead, you both sit and watch the water for a bit. It’s a comfortable silence, a shared one at that. “I made you something.” You speak softly, finally breaking the silence, nerves flashing across your face when Neteyam doesn’t look over right away. “Just a small thing, nothing serious.”

“Sorry, the fish over there- you were saying?”

“I made you something.”

“No, no-“

“It’s already made, it’d be rude to not accept it.” You chuckle, beginning to dig through your medicinal pouch (That’s supposed to be used for plants and herbs.) Neteyam watches carefully as you pull out a riding visor, carefully braided and woven to very little details. The small wings that make up the visor are in perfect condition, not even a small crack on them.

“I know you have one, but I feel bad about the wings I broke on it.” You chuckle, handing it over to him. You were once riding with him in your human form and felt uneasy. As you slipped off to one side, you instinctively reached up to him, breaking the fragile protective wings on his visor. As you place it in his hands, your hands linger against one another’s for just a moment too long before you pull away. “And one more thing.”

“You shouldn’t have-“

“I wanted to, Neteyam. In my free time, or days where we couldn’t practice because you had work.” You interrupt him, watching the soft smile slowly spread across his face. “This is your last gift, so don’t get all excited, it’s nothing crazy.”

“I will get excited, it’s from you.” Neteyam hums softly, watching as you prepare to present your gift.

“Shut your eyes, don’t open until I say.”

“How is that fair!”

“Warriors honor!! Shut your eyes!” You giggle loudly, standing up next to Neteyam. You’re not much taller than him even when he sits, but neither of you mention it. “No peeking, or else I'm taking it back.”

“Fineee,” He sighs, finally following along with your shenanigans. Finally, you pull out your gift. It’s a simple necklace in theory, however you modeled its design after traditional warrior necklaces that have gone out of trend in recent years. Small goosebumps spread across Neteyam’s skin as your fingertips graze his skin, jumping slightly as you gently move his kuru.

“Sorry, sorry.” You quickly apologize, watching as the goosebumps spread across his nape. You didn’t even think before you did it, out of instinct. You finish quickly after that, wanting to put some distance in between you two. “Look in the water.”

He does, a giant smile spread across his face when he finds your eyes again. “You made this for me?”

“Of course, who else?” You giggle, reaching out to run your fingers across the beads. Neteyam catches your forearm before you have a chance to move away once more, accidentally jerking you forward into his arms. You land with a huff, Neteyam quickly wrapping you in his embrace. So small compared to him, fitting in his arms like nothing at all. Your skin is so soft against his, his fingertips easily making small indents in your arms where he holds you close.

“Thank you Y/n.” Neteyam mumbles softly, eyes falling shut as he gets lost in holding you, your scent, your voice. His eyes peel open the slightest bit as you begin to shuffle, preparing to release you as soon as you make a move to. Instead, you’re reaching up, wrapping your arms around his neck as you hug him close. Your knees are resting on his thighs, having to kneel in order to even reach. He can feel your beaded top against his chest, feel your heartbeat if he focuses hard enough on it. He’s sure you can feel his too, now beating a million miles a second.

“Of course, a warrior necklace for a mighty warrior,” You mumble, almost directly into his ear unintentionally, goosebumps spreading all along his body. He shudders, making you pull back softly, peering at him with a careful look. Suddenly, he’s even more aware of the proximity and you on his lap.

“Sorry, I just got a chill. Must be because my father is looking for me,” He smiles, covering up for himself. You laugh softly, carefully climbing off and sitting back by the river. You lay down, sun washing over your skin. Neteyam’s eyes soak it all in, not a sight that’s very common. He joins you after a bit, talking about any random topic that comes to mind.

“Nete, can I ask you something weird?”

“Anything,”

“What does your kuru feel like? I'm not sure if it’s different for me, but you seem to be much more sensitive.” You ask softly, scared of overstepping your welcome when it comes to his teaching.

As he lays next to you, he’s acutely aware of how much larger his frame is. “Hm, I suppose I am sensitive. But only when I want to be, with people I want to be.” He answers, hinting slightly. He's more than aware it’s going to fly over your head.

“Uhm. When Na’vi chooses their mate, and they, uhm mate, is it the same tsaheylu as our bond with animals? With our mounts?”

“Hmm, I'm not sure. I haven’t been there yet.” He chuckles softly, but still does his best to answer. “I suppose they are connected in the same way, but you cannot control them as if you are on a mount. You cannot think about going, and expect the other to go. It’s more of a spiritual connection, being completely with the other. I suppose we also feel the other's sensations and emotions, but control is not the aspect of it.”

“Why are you so sensitive with yours?”

“It is my nervous system, if I wasn’t something would be seriously wrong.” He answers sarcastically, making the both of you laugh.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, your eyes closing as you soak up the sun.

“Neteyam?”

“Hm?”

“I'm scared.” It’s vulnerable and the truth, you’re terrified. “If I fall, will you catch me?” You’re completely dead serious, terrified of falling off the cliff.

“Of course, I'll fly Seze.” He promises you. You sigh, nodding your head.

The day slips through your grasp before you can even hold onto it for a second, night quickly approaching. You and Neteyam slowly make your way back to home tree, you much slower, as you purposely get further and further behind. Neteyam knows, and he could definitely guess why you’re acting so strange. He doesn’t push you, just slows down his pace tenfold to allow you to catch up and even pass him. Ever so observant, he watches as your fists clench tight as your feet come to a gradual stop.

“Neteyam, spend tonight with me.” You rush, quickly. You quickly turn around to peer up at him, catching the small smile that’s already pulling at the corners of his mouth. Your fists are still clenched as you wait for his response to your borderline demand.

“It doesn’t sound like you’re asking, demanding the future Olo'eyktan around?” Neteyam boasts, jokingly puffing out his chest before he’s dropping into a squat to be more eye-level with your form. “Y/n?”

You almost knock him off balance as you ambush him, smaller body crashing against his as your arms fly around his neck. He regains his composure just as quickly, arms wrapping around you. “I'm scared.” You mumble against his ear, goosebumps shooting down his spine. “Just in case something happens.” You continue to mumble, borderline against his skin. “I want to spend tonight with you.” Your arms never loosen their hold, not giving him much leeway.

“Nothing will happen, Y/n.” He reassures you, easily picking up both of your body weight as he stands. He doesn’t pry you away, instead he wraps his arms around your torso as he easily carries you through the branches. “I promise, you will do amazing.” He fights to reassure you, lips brushing against your ear.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, I do.” He giggles softly, finally arriving at the sleeping hammocks after what feels like forever. (The close proximity is going straight to his head.) “You need rest though, my mighty warrior.” Neteyam gives you a wide grin as you pull away, smiling back softly at him. “I won’t leave you, if that’s what you want.'' He carefully maneuvers your weight into one arm, the other assisting him as he climbs into the hammock. Laying on his back, a content sigh slips through your lips as you rest on his chest.

“Neteyam, if I fail, what will you do?” You mumble, avoiding his gaze as your head never lifts as you speak to him.

“I will catch you.” He answers back almost immediately, not missing a single beat. It makes you smile, reassures you, calms your nerves just the slightest bit as he promises.

“Neteyam?”

“You're supposed to shut your eyes, syulang.” He teases as you continue your questioning.

“Can we go to the labs?” It's now Neteyam’s turn to ask questions, you never want to be in the lab. Never once have you asked to go there.

“Huh?”

“My mask is annoying, I'm getting used to not having it on.” Okay, he supposes that makes sense. Eases his nerves that you’re falling into your more human side than that of the culture and of the people. He lets out a puff of air he didn’t realize he was holding, climbing onto his feet carefully with you still in his arms. He wobbles like an idiot climbing out, regaining his balance once his feet hit the tree branch.

As always, Neteyam moves swiftly despite your weight remaining fixed to his back. You're tired, slowly slipping further and further down, making it hard for him to move as easily. “Y/n, you’re killing me,” Neteyam chuckles softly, reaching behind him to pull you up his back. He easily drops you onto his shoulders, continuing the fast pace he was previously at. He’s dumb, he definitely did not think this one through. Each movement has your legs clenching tightly, scared to fall from so high up. He can feel your warmth, so close. Each time you shuffle, he can smell you, so close it’s making him dizzy. Mustering all his strength up, he pushes on.

He thanks Eywa under his breath when he sets you down, still feeling the warmth on his shoulders where you once were. He hums softly as he grabs a mask, fiddling with the annoying thing as he places it over his head. He watches as you happily rip off your mask, rubbing at the red lines it left behind on your face. The lab is empty, everyone out for the night, likely sleeping up at high camp with the Avatar lab. Neteyam follows you loosely as you wander around, eventually slipping into a room. It’s small, for Neteyam. However, for you, the bed is giant as you plop dead in the middle of it.

“Neteyammm,” You sing-song to him, beckoning him over on the small bed. He curls and concorts, knees coming up as you lay almost encircled by him. Your face is engulfed in a smile, hands reaching up to play with his hair. “Maybe after I become a warrior I’ll rebraid your hair. You’ve been so busy.” You mumble softly, continuing to play softly with it. Your fingers brush over his kuru, a shudder running down his spine before he can stop it. You’re so close, smell so good, so warm, it makes him 100% more sensitive, he thinks. “Sorry, sorry,” Your hands retract just as fast as his reaction happened.

“No, no, it’s okay.” He reacts, stopping your hand before it has the chance to fully leave his head. “It’s okay, it’s not bad. You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re curious, it’s okay.”

“Neteyam,”

“It’s okay,” He smiles softly, gently placing your hand back where it once was. He encourages you to do whatever you’d like, bending to your every will. He would, he does. Another shudder runs down his spine when your little hands graze over it once more, goosebumps spreading along his skin. He can see the apprehension on your face, uncertainty. “It doesn’t hurt, syulang. It’s just sensitive, a new feeling.” He hums, pressing his face into your neck, hiding the blush that begins to spread across his face and ears.

You fill up his senses entirely, and he likes it. He wants you to. He bites back a softly whimper when your fingers trail down the braid, nose flat against your skin as he inhales. He can feel you warm up, feel himself warm up as well. His kuru seeks out your touch almost, wrapping around your fingers before you even realize it. Trying to make some form of tsaheylu, likely. Your fingers twitch slightly through the exposed part of his nerves, gaining confidence as you brush through them carefully, watching for any pained noises. Neteyam cant bite back the whimper when you carefully wrap your fingers around it, entangling back. He pitifully moans against your skin, embarrassment coursing through his veins as he refuses to meet your eyes.

“You need to rest, mighty.” Neyetam hums against your skin, afraid if he glances into your eyes now it would be too much for him, he’d give in. Another shiver runs, this time just from the thought of you, your skin, the proximity of your bodies as he curls around your form on the bed. “Let’s rest for tomorrow.” He can feel you nod, carefully moving your hands away from his kuru. He’s about to mourn the loss of contact, maybe even complain, before you’re running your fingers with his braids, holding his head close. Everything is good.

You thank Eywa for the blessing that makes Neteyam not look at you, you’d surely be read like a book. Face red, lips bitten bright red, slick with saliva. Thank Eywa.

You wake up with dread, genuine dread. Terror racks your body the whole trip. Not at the thought of scaling the mountain, or climbing the vines. At the thought of failing. Neteyam has so much faith in you, you don’t know what you’d do if you were to fail. You can almost feel the disappointment rolling from him. Shaking the thought from your head, you continue climbing the hard rock, pulling yourself out of autopilot. Neteyam whoops every now and then, encouraging you and the other group of warriors you’ve traveled with. It's nice, knowing he’s close, but terrifying at the same time.

As you come to the opening of the cave, just before you cross over, your heart drops. Seze comes into your view, landing and allowing Neteyam off.

He presses his fingers to his forehead, greeting everyone in the surrounding area. You all follow along, greeting your future leader. “I will not be watching, I'll be on lookout. Just in case.” He announces to the group, watching as the dread still doesn’t leave your face. He announces you’ll go last, trying to make you feel better. It fails, miserably. But you don’t tell him.

When it’s finally your turn, he comes back to the mountain, beginning to carefully walk you underneath the waterfall. People have failed today, scurrying back underneath the water in a desperate attempt to miss the near-death attack. They all come back ashamed, disappointed, and you’ve done your best to reassure them. Of course, some also succeeded, flying off with loud cheers and chants cheering them on.

“Neteyam, if I think I’m going to die, I am going back.” It’s dead serious, eyes dead serious, as you stare back at him. You’re scared, and he knows it, but you’re trying desperately to hide it all. “I don’t want you to be disappointed, but I'm scared.”

“I understand,” Neteyam nods, “I am not going further, I have to get back to Seze. I will be close,” You know he will, you know it. Carefully inching closer, most of the ikrans are already scattered, scared off by ten other hunters. The entire process is a blur, fear and adrenaline taking over your mind. You can barely remember what happened as you force your tsaheylu to connect, terrified pants calming out.

You briefly hear Neteyam’s chants fill your ears, hands pressing against your face in excitement. “What happened?” It's a genuine question. You can’t remember.

“Once you captured it, it did not fight. You didn’t have to lock it down.” He answers, a crazy look coming over his face as if he’s realizing something. As the adrenaline begins to mellow out, your brain begins working again.

“I have to fly, Neteyam move,” You demand, his hands still carefully holding your head in his palms as he forces you to look at him.

“Yes, yes. Fly, I’ll follow.” He smiles, ducking out of the way. He can hear the shriek that leaves your lips as you take off, the sound bouncing off the nearby rock. His feet are sprinting as quickly as possible over the wet rock, finding Seze and taking off just as quickly to search for you. You’re doing decent, still shaky, but alive when he finds you. You grieve the absence of a proper saddle and hold, Neteyam more than aware as he laughs at you.

“IT'S HARD!” You scream over the wind, voice just barely making its way to his ears.

“YOU DID IT!” He’s screaming back, a giant smile plastered across his face. The hours tick by quicker than he would’ve liked, signaling for you to follow as he leads you back to home tree. He supposes it’s because you went last, the time seemingly running past him. As you land in the top branches of the home tree, your unsteady legs buckle as you make contact with the mossy branch, toppling down.

“I’m tired,” Is all you offer, disconnecting your kuru as you allow your ikran to perch wherever she pleases. Neteyam lets out a hearty laugh as he reaches to pick you back up.

“You did it, I told you you were ready,” He smiles, the smile taking up his entire face. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his embrace in a flurry. Your legs still feel weak, but you muster enough strength to wrap your arms back around him. “Come, we must meet with the others for dinner, announce it to the clan,” He blurts, excitement running through his veins for you. A giant smile spreads across your face as you agree, following him down with interlocked pinkies.

As you make it down, Neteyam lets out a loud whoop, announcing your success. Cheers and chants follow, everyone beginning to congratulate and praise you. Your official ceremony will be held in a week, commemorating and celebrating your achievement of having your place within the people. Neteyam is busy telling everyone the story, voice bubbling with excitement, growing in volume as he gets to the good parts. You beam beside him, listening. You couldn’t tell it anyway, you partially blanked.

Some of the elder members of the clan have a look you can’t quite decipher, unsure of what it means. You choose not to ask, scared of getting an answer you don’t actually want. For once, you choose ignorance.

Eventually the commotion begins to die down, everyone beginning to eat as usual. Neteyam practically begs you to eat with them as always, but Neytiri has the same look that so many others have given you. “Thank you, Nete, but I’m really worn out,” You offer softly, placing your hand on his bicep to try and calm him. He offers you a sad, kicked puppy look, but it didn’t work. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You smile, beginning to make your way back to the hammocks.

“Child,'' Neytiri speaks softly once you depart, swooping Neteyam away for a brief moment. He knows he’s going to get some sort of lecture, good or bad, so he follows without saying another word. “She is special, no?” She asks, plain and simple. They both know the answer to this, Neteyam’s ears pinning in worry.

“…No.” Fear leads him as he lies.

“Neteyam.” It is kind but firm.

“She has something.” Is all he offers. He doesn’t know what it really is, but he knows it’s something. “Does that matter?” He avoids her gaze in worry.

“No, no. It doesn't matter. But it's something to be noted and watched, you know that.” She speaks, gently placing her hands on his shoulders. “Is she something special…to you?” She asks delicately, placing a careful hand over his heart as she asks.

“I'm…not sure.” He answers honestly.

Neytiri nods. She also knows the answer to that question, but figured she’d ask anyway. “Come, my child, let’s eat.” She smiles warmly, leading him back. He earns a lot of “ouuuus” from his siblings when he gets back, assuming he got in trouble.

He hisses softly, resuming his natural place with his family as he begins eating.

The days once again fly by before he can even think too long about it, a sturmbeest hunt following just days after your iknimaya.

“Come with us, Y/n,” Neteyam pleads alongside Lo’ak, begging you to come to the hunt with them. Your small human frame is still wiping the sleep from your eyes, glaring up at him as you devour your fruit. You pop your mask back on as you chew, the mask becoming more and more frustrating as you grow accustomed to your Avatar body.

“I can't hunt and fly at the same time, I'm not good at flying yet.” You answer genuinely, allowing your neck to relax as you look down, no longer peering up.

“You can be our lookout,” Lo’ak offers, also wanting you desperately to come along. He knows he hasn’t talked to you much, and as he watches his brother fall head over heels for you, he’s determined to grow closer.

You huff loudly, eyes still all squinty from sleep. You struggle up to your feet, the two blue boys giant next to you. “I'll meet you guys by the ikrans,” You whine, beginning to lazily make your way to the labs for link.

“Yay yay yay!” Lo’ak and Neteyam chant, easily lifting you and absolutely spriting you to the labs. You scream and laugh, body jostled around as if you weighed absolutely nothing to them. Your ribs hurt from laughing as they arrive at the shack, placing you down in front of the front door. They usher you inside.

“We’ll be at the tree,” Neteyam smiles, waving as you step inside. They both take off before the door even closes all the way. You can only laugh as you imagine them going crazy, sprinting up the tree branches. Just as you imagined, when you finally get up there, both boys are panting and disheveled, bowed over at the hips as they fight for air.

“Skxawngs,” You laugh wildly, a giant smile on your face as you call your ikran down. She’s calm as you connect, quickly rising and falling backwards as you wait for the other two.

The hunt goes smoothly as possible. Some shots are always missed, some Navi and their pa’li are always knocked over, some sturmbeests are wounded but not killed, always a tragedy. You watch Neteyam and Lo’ak very closely, terrified that one of them was going to get themselves in some sort of trouble or hurt. Neteyam lands a hit on one, the arrow not deep enough to kill the giant male just get. You’re a considerable distance ahead, flying further in front.

“Y/N, SHOOT! THE BIG MALE!” His voice screams to you, wanting to put the animal down with as little pain as possible. You let out an annoyed growl as you draw your bow as quickly as possible, using the wind to whip back as quickly as possible. Your arrow is aimed and shot quickly, the male about to run past where you’re flying, charging wildly. Your arrow hits on the same area, successfully knocking the prize winner down.

You, Neteyam, and Lo’ak cheer loudly, flying quickly next to one another as the adrenaline courses through your veins. Lo’ak screams in english, Neteyam in Navi, and you in a weird mix of the two. You're met by the people with loud calls and cheers, celebration soon to be underway as you bring in the prize kills.

“Y/n, come to the ceremony with me tonight.” Neteyam calls you softly as you feed your ikran, tending carefully to her. He watches as you loosen the saddle and reins, allowing your ikran to have more ability and flexibility while you’re not riding.

“The ceremony, with you? Are you courting me?” You chuckle softly. You know the culture, he knows you know the culture. Even at your accusation, the both of you giggle and brush it aside.

“You? Of course not. I'm giving you the gracious opportunity to take your Avatar to a ceremony, and just so happen to go with the clan leader's son.”

“Uhhhh huh.”

“Seriously, you’d be missing out if you don’t.”

“Fine, I suppose I will.”

The night is hectic, fermented juice being passed around like no one’s business, dance, games, and food all being shared among the clans members. You’re a topic of conversation, everyone inquiring about your appearance in your Avatar and not how you normally show up. Even still, it’s a good time. Everything goes generally as planned, until Tarsen approaches you later in the night, smooth voice talking with you.

He's sweet, and you suppose he’s just as accomplished as Neteyam in terms of earning their place within the clan. You know he’s respectful and hardworking, but besides that you’ve never really talked to him.

“You look very beautiful tonight.” A giant smile spreads across your face before you even have a chance to stop it fully. “Please, allow me to get a drink with you.” You have no chance in hell, nodding like an idiot as he takes your hand to help you up off your seat. The drinks are strong, making you warm in seconds flat.

“How is the ceremony going for you, Tarsem?” You smile softly, turning to listen to his answer. He steps a bit closer as he talks to you, leaning forward to tell you about his day in your ear. There’s small goosebumps spreading across your arms from the proximity, listening nevertheless to him. It takes a lot of effort to not jump when his tail comes to wrap around your waist, a classic courting gesture. He's bragging to you about his kill in the hunt, and your mind begins to wander to yours and Neteyam’s joint kill.

“Y/n?” You turn to find the voice, losing your balance temporarily as you search. “Can I have this dance?” Neteyam appears out of nowhere, standing up straighter and broad in front of you.

“Nete! Of course!” Once again, your balance falters as you step towards him. You quickly mumble a string of apologies to Tarsem, promising to come back as you excuse yourself from him. Neteyam’s chest rumbles as you fall towards him, finally breaking free of Tarsem’s hold on your waist. “Let's go!”

He waits until you get away from the table to speak once again, “Are you drunk? You’ve been drinking?”

“Yes, well no. Tarsem wanted to drink with me, but that’s it.” You struggle, beginning to make your way over to the clan's traditional dance line. Your hand reaches for Neteyam, pulling him along to follow. He stands in place, solid as a rock despite your pleading. Your costume makes soft clicking sounds as the beads and feathers move, a pretty hanging assortment that Neteyam had gifted you. Before arriving at the ceremony, you realized you had no ceremony outfits for your Avatar, only for your human body. It sits on your shoulders, connecting at your wrists to almost resemble wings hanging down.

“And his tail?” His jaw is clenched hard.

“Neteyam? What’s wrong?” You finally give up trying to pull him to the dance, it’s clear he doesn’t actually care to dance at this moment. There's a small frown on your face that Neteyam threatens to crumble under. He pulls his composure together, reaching out and pulling you close by your elbow.

“He was courting after you, and you let him.” Neteyam mumbles, eyes searching yours for answers.

“I didn't think you’d mind…you said we were just going to give me a chance to use my Avatar, Nete.” You sigh, confusion evident. “You’re confusing me, really badly. I don't understand why you’re upset. Please, can we just dance??”

Neteyam once again doesn’t budge. Even in your Avatar body, his strength easily overpowers yours and he’s suddenly an unmoving force. The two of you are away from the crowd, able to talk more freely and hide from any peering eyes. “Would you have continued?” Neteyam grits, unable to hold eye contact with you as he peers down.

“What do you mean? What are you accusing me of?”

“Would you have mated?”

“Neteyam! What are you on about?” You slur your speech, balance losing temporarily as you fall forward into him. He catches you despite technically being upset. “I’m not mating with anybody, the person I want doesn't want me. He told me so today,” You drunkenly babble, arms wrapping around his neck as you hold yourself up. “Told me he won’t go to the ceremony with me in that way, doesn’t want to court me.” Your costume tangles with him as his arms come to wrap around your waist, the proximity going to his head.

“He told you that, huh?” Neteyam feels his face heat, knowing who you’re talking about. You lift slightly onto your tiptoes, pushing yourself closer against his chest. “I think you should tell him that.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” Your words came out mumbled, “He’s a really busy guy, you know? Don’t wanna be an inconvenience.” You continue, and Neteyam can feel his heart contract a bit.

“You’re not an inconvenience.”

“Hmmm,” You hum, goosebumps sprouting against his skin. “Can we dance, Nete. Please?” You ask again, beginning to untangle yourself from him. He mourns the loss of closeness, holding tight to your hand in his. Your face is bright pink, but you still lock eyes with him. “Come, let’s dance in the ceremony,” You softly pull, this time Neteyam moves with, giving in. The two of you dance and sing, play some of the games, share food as you begin to settle down for the night. You’re holding the leaf on your lap, you and Neteyam both picking from it here and there.

Unknown to you, Tarsem is making his way over, ready to ask about your promise of returning to him. Neteyam locks eyes, giving him a heavy glare that’s almost unmistakable even in an inebriated state. To solidify his claim, he’s moving closer to you, legs now pressed together, his arm wrapping around your shoulder. He gets the message loud and clear, turning around and beginning to make his way elsewhere.

“Nete, I’m tired,” You call his attention back without realizing, head falling onto his shoulder. “Can I go back to home tree? You can stay if you need to, future Olo'eyktan,” You smile, beginning to stand as you hand him the leaf in case he’s sticking around. “I’ll see you for our lessons, yeah?”

“I’ll walk you back,” He’s quick to offer, wanting to make sure you get back safely, and by yourself. Neteyam does as promised, safely walking you back to home tree to allow your Avatar to rest. He thinks hard, would your human body remember what you said and did? Are you going to steer clear of him now? You’re beyond wobbly, scaring Neteyam half to death as you wobble side to side on the tree branches. Your body has enough muscle memory to easily guide you to the hammock, still, Neteyam gasps hard as you freely jump into an open one. “Oh Eywa! Y/n!” He scolds.

You laugh softly, peering up at him. “Goodnight, Nete. Get back safe okay?” You lazily smile, gently pulling at the edge of the leaf to cover yourself. You’re out quickly, body exhausted. Neteyam is now racing on foot to the lab to check on human you.

“Y/n?” He calls as he walks through the lab, struggling with the mask as he holds it.

“Neteyam? You should probably get back to the ceremony,” You mumble, stretching your legs and arms out. He smiles softly as the beads clink together, “People are probably waiting on you.”

“Yeah, but you should get some rest. I wanted to make sure you’re okay, you drank a lot.”

“I suppose it doesn’t cross over, that’d be weird if it did. I don’t remember much though,” You smile, a bit embarrassed that you can’t remember the ceremony that Neteyam took you to.

“I see, I see.” He nods, “Here, I’ll run you up to home tree so you can get some sleep.” Neteyam smiles as he offers, turning around and squatting to offer his back. You climb on, wrapping your legs around his torso as much as possible given his size. Neteyam takes you there easily, jumping, climbing, and scaling the tree with little to no difference with you on him. He's careful as he climbs into a leaf, allowing you to climb off of his back. You laugh as he wobbles in it as he tries to get up around you.

“Careful, you’ll knock both of us out,” You smile, grabbing his arm where he’s trying to push himself up without leaning too far to one side. He can only balance with both arms, awkwardly placed on either side of your head, your smaller frame engulfed by his much bigger one.

Neteyam makes the mistake of looking, his body easily covering yours entirely, your face bright red as you bite on your lips, avoiding eye contact. Your small hand grips hard as you balance yourself, not helping. He's so close he can practically smell the heat rolling off of you. “Sorry, Sorry! I’m just, this is, it’s fragile,” He stutters, his own face warming. He wants to stay here, like this, with you. He's sure you can see the blush on his ears, stuttering like an idiot when he accidentally looks in between both of your bodies. But he can’t, so he reluctantly climbs away, barely making it to the tree branch. “I’ll see you soon,” He grits out, closing the hammock for you.

Neteyam knows he should go back to the ceremony, make his rounds as the chief's son. But he has a bigger issue at hand, said issue? In between his legs.

Your’s and the other warrior’s ceremony is quick to come, your body being painted traditionally for it. White paint is drug along your torso and face, finger paths making pretty even lines. You begged Kiri to help you, knowing she’d be the most careful and intricate. As she drags her fingers over your lips, the both of you giggle wildly. Tuk, who joined the both of you for fun, stares at you with stars in her eyes.

“Y/n, I have a gift for you,” Kiri speaks, springing up and running off. She comes back quickly. She comes back with a decently sized box. “It’s for tonight.”

Your heart aches as you open it, a giant smile spread across your face. “You didn’t have to-“

“It's not just from me.”

Its beautiful ceremonial pieces, bottoms, a top, accessories galore, and a few pieces to decorate your hair with. “Most were woven and made by Neteyam,” Kiri almost whispers, a knowing smile spread across her face at the confession.

“I see…” You smile, trying to avoid the blush that threatens to come across you. Kiri is very receptive, even more so to you since she’s known you for so long. “They’re beautiful, I’ll be sure to talk to him and thank him later tonight,”

Kiri smiles, “I'm sure he’d like that a lot.” She nods, climbing to her feet. She offers her hands, helping you up. “Me and Tuk will leave you to get ready,”

You thank her repeatedly as she leaves. You kiss the top of Tuk’s head goodbye when she complains about leaving, promising her you’ll see her later. Getting changed makes your stomach flip wildly, nerves beginning to set in for the night. Everyone is busy with their preparations, running wildly around the tree. Dressed and painted, you make your way down.

Neteyam spots you immediately, having to run off to help with preparations. His mind is filled with you, just the brief glimpse he caught. He tells himself to distance himself, too scared that once he’s in your grasp he won’t be able to break himself away. He watches the entire night, eyes never once leaving your frame. Hours fly by like minutes, too entranced in the way you dance, speak, sing, smile, interact, everything about you. You can feel his stare, burning into your skin. He watches as you join in the dances, accept praise and congratulations, turn down courting and mate offers left and right. His eyes never leave once.

“Sa’nu,” Neteyam soft voice catches Neytiri’s attention, quickly walking off with him. Far enough away from everyone else, Neteyam speaks freely. “I am going to ask Y/n to be my mate tonight.” His voice is firm and strong. He's not asking in the slightest, he is telling her.

Neytiri nods softly, fighting the smile that pulls at the corner of her lips. “She will make a good mate for you, my eldest.” He smiles, reaching to softly cup his face.

Neteyam nods, “I know.” The two of them walk back to the party, Neteyam standing much stronger, more confident as he searches for you once again.

“Syulang,” Neteyam calls, watching as your head immediately turns towards him. His heart beats hard. “Are you having fun?” He asks softly when you make your way over, a glow radiating off of you.

“Yes, I am. Are you having fun?” You smile back, sitting with him on one of the logs.

“Yes, I am.” He nods.

“Watching me? Because I haven't seen you do much else,” You tease softly, leaning forward towards him as you speak. It’s the truth, he hasn’t done much else.

“Yes, making sure you’re safe,” He nods, coming up with an excuse that’s semi-believable.

“My warrior, forever and always being my lookout,” You grin at him, thinking about when he first promised to be your extra set of eyes, keeping you out of harm's reach. A couple of braids fall from behind his ear as he shuffles slightly. Before you’re thinking, you reach forward, gently tucking them behind his ear.

The grin on his face is irreplaceable, his hand gently reaching for your wrist before you can pull away. He softly pulls your hand down, kissing the pads of your fingers softly. “Y/n? I want to show you something, whenever you’re ready to go.” He gently releases your wrist after pressing another kiss to your pinky, your extra finger that makes you different.

Your mind goes numb, essentially, eyes widening as you stare at the man in front of you. “Ye-yes. I was going to get going soon anyway,” You mumble, not entirely the truth but you digress. He grins, a love-sick grin as he’s the first to get up. He offers his palm, smiling even more when you take it.

“You are one of the people now, physically and spiritually now.” Neteyam begins as the two of you run through the forest, taking turns passing one another in brief sprints. The two of you laugh like dummies, leaping and hopping over logs. “Eywa has heard you, acknowledged you.” He continues, slowing his pace when he approaches his destination. It's the tree of voices, a place you know from stories and pictures. You’ve never visited yourself, never being able to connect or truly listen. “These trees are our people. We connect with them through here, hear their voices, listen to their stories.” Neteyam speaks softly as he walks through the trees. “It is one of our most sacred places. It is our memories, our history.”

Neteyam’s voice is honey to your ears, watching his actions closely. His movements stop, reaching to gather a few of the branches and bringing them to himself. Reaching for his braid, he connects his tswin. You watch him, unsure of if you should follow. Neteyam smiles, nodding towards you to follow when you don’t immediately mirror him. You follow, connecting. It’s different than anything else, your pupils grow giant, listening to the voices, stories, songs. Goosebumps grow all along your body, eyes falling closed as you listen to the advice of mothers passed down for thousands of generations.

“Y/n,” Neteyam speaks softly, hands gently taking your elbows in his hold. Your eyes peel open, gently pulling your kuru away. “I have a gift for you,”

“Neteyam-“

“It’s already made.” He uses your own logic against you from the past. You giggle softly, following him to the soft grass when he sits. He tenderly presents a necklace in his palms, holding it with both hands as he presents it to you. “It’s for you, marking our training together.” Neteyam explains nervously, feeling his tail flick wildly behind him in anxiety.

“You shouldn’t have, you already made me my outfit Nete.” Your voice grows soft as you scooch closer to him, leaning in to examine the necklace in his hands.

“This is the first day, where we spent all day in the forest. This is when you learned archery, your first clean kill, bonding with Midnight, your iknimaya, your kill in the sturmbeest festival, your celebration tonight.” He explains each of the beads, face warming as you continue to draw closer to one another. There's one remaining, a soft pink stone.

“Which is this one?” You ask, reaching and pointing.

“This one…is to represent tonight,” Neteyam mumbles, extremely soft. Your eyes catch one another’s for a brief moment, breaking off when you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “The trees, the people, us.”

“Neteyam, it’s too sweet,” Your voice is smooth and heavenly to him, hands holding his bicep firmly. You then release him, turning your back so he can place it onto you. His touch makes goosebumps spread anywhere they brush, a shudder going down your spine. Your fingers reach to feel it, “It’s perfect, Nete,” You mumble as you turn back and face him. Your hands find his shoulders naturally, eyes connecting.

“I see you, Y/n.” He mumbles, hands once again falling to hold your arms where they rest on him.

“Neteyam, you see me, I see you.” You mumble softly, your hands gently cupping his face in your palms as you shuffle closer to where he’s kneeled. He smiles, leaning his head into your hold and almost nuzzling into you. There's a rumble in his chest, a purr as you always call it, as he feels so completely intent in your hold. He always denies purring with a passion when anyone else brings it up, but you, sure, he’d purr for you. “Nete, I see you.” You speak again, sitting so close that your knees are between one another.

“You’ve grown up here, you know the culture. After coming of age, all of the people are permitted to make their bow or weapon, and find their mate if they wish to." Neteyam speaks softly to you, pressing his forehead to yours. “You may do this as you wish, with whoever you wish.” Neteyam’s chest tightens as his mind goes to Tarsem.

“With whoever I wish?” You ask softly, pulling your head back slightly. Neteyam looks confused, eyes squinting in confusion at your move. “What are the conditions of, “whoever?” I feel that some people are definitely off limits.”

“Who is off limits to you?” Neteyam mumbles, his hands dropping down from your elbows to the ground behind him, holding his torso up.

“Hmmmm,” You pretend to think for a couple of moments, tapping your chin as Neteyam makes himself comfortable, now sitting as he rests on his palms. He looks especially handsome, the smallest look of smugness on his face. He’s almost beckoning you closer, inviting you onto his lap as he sprawls out in front of you. “Olo'eyktan, he’s definitely off limits. Hmmm, I think the future Olo'eyktan is also off limits.”

“Yeah? Did he tell you that it’s off limits?” His confidence grows even more, chest booming. Finally, he reaches forward, hands finding your waist and finally pulling you close once more. Your knees are on either side of his thighs, hovering over his lap. “I think that the future Olo'eyktan has already chosen his mate though, a very special person, someone who he didn’t think he’d be with right now.” Neteyam speaks gently as he continues to pull you close, allowing you to sit on his lap.

“So if he’s already chosen his mate, then he IS off limits.” You continue the game you’re playing, a giant smile spread across your face as your thumb rubs along his cheek. Finally caving in, you speak again “You really think the future Olo'eyktan would want to be with me? A little human?” You giggle like a school girl gossiping, pretending that you weren’t talking directly to him.

“I think he would, definitely. In fact, I know he would.” Neteyam speaks, leaning forward and gently connecting your lips. You pause for a moment to relish in the moment, soft lips pressed against one another, breathing mixing together. You’re the first to move, sliding your lips against his. You can feel the rumbling growing in Neteyam’s chest, the purring that you love so much coming out. Moving closer, your chests press flush together, his arms wrapping around your back.

The kiss consumes you, lights your skin on fire as his palms trail along your skin. It feels like your oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, Neteyam greedily taking it as he kisses you harder. Your hands find the back of his head, pulling him closer if it’s even possible at this point. You break the kiss, panting heavily as you fight to fill your lungs with air.

“Nete, I can't. I can't be Tsahìk, I cannot lead the people.” You pull away, hands still cupping his face. Neteyam presses his cheek into your hold, a gentle smile plastered across his face. Your heart aches, thumbs gently rubbing across his cheeks. “You should look elsewhere-“

“You have a bond with Eywa, I see her with you all the time. You and the forest, her children, your mount, they are all special. You can. You have helped my grandmother from the day she allowed you to, you know how to heal and help. But if you don’t wish to, we will be simple weavers together-“

“Don’t.” Your voice cuts him off.

“Okay, hunters,”

“Neteyam!”

“Songwriters?”

“You have worked your whole life training, ensuring your place as leader. You will likely take over in just a few years time. I will not let you throw it away for me.”

“I don't want to lead the people, if not with you.” He answers completely honestly, leaning forward to press your forehead together. “That life is not worth living.” His eyes fall closed as he relishes the feeling of your hold, holding him so closely, so delicately. “It is not the life I want. I don’t want to lead if you’re not by my side.”

“Only if you want to, no pressure,” Neteyam mumbles against your lips. One of his palms leaves your skin, instead beginning to reach behind him for his tswin. He pulls it over his shoulder, resting it there and waiting for your reaction. Reaching back for yours, it’s a choice you’ve already made long before now. “Y/n, I see you.” Neteyam mumbles, trailing down his braid and watching as you mirror him. “I see you, I see every form of you, every body, my sweet mate.'' Connecting your kuru’s sends electricity down your spine, both of your pupils dilating as the connection is sealed, releasing your kurus.

“Neteyam,” You mumble, hands immediately wrapping themselves around him and pulling him as close as possible. Your breathing is heavy, chest heaving against his as you stare into his eyes, both of your pupils giant. Your lips crash together, body seated securely on Neteyam’s lap as he pulls you close. “I need you, haaa fuck, I need you Neteyam.” You whine softly against his lips, pulling roughly on the ties around his hips.

“I know, paskalin, I know.” Neteyam mumbles against your lips, reaching down to pull your hands back up. He places a soft kiss on your palm, “Relax, pretty. Wanna make you feel good, please you.” Neteyam speaks, hands wrapping around to hold your back. He's extremely strong, pushing both of your weights up to gently place you on your back.

“Neteyam,” You whine, reaching back to try to pull at his ties. He easily dodges your prying fingers, pinning your hands to the soft moss underneath you.

“Patience, Y/n,” He speaks softly but firm, “Want to do it right, want to mate you right,” He mumbles, beginning to kiss along your skin. An involuntarily whimper leaves when he makes his way down your neck, slowly getting closer and closer to where you need his touch. You pull softly on his grip, unable to break it. “Make you feel good, so you never want anyone else,”

“I don’t, never Neteyam,” Your voice breaks off into a whine as he nips at the soft flesh on your chest, reaching to untie your top. Goosebumps spread across your skin as he touches as he pleases, hands trailing from your thighs, up to your breast, and then back down to your thighs. Teasing, he’s teasing you. You whine as you squeeze his hips in between your thighs, pulling him closer. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“You mean that?” He asks softly as he carefully takes a breast in his mouth, tongue gently lapping. He watches your reaction, gauges what you don’t like and do, and adjusts all of his movements perfectly. As he nips, a small cry falls past his lips. “You didn’t answer me, yawne.”

“Yes, yes I mean that.” You answer, body steadily heating as he makes his way in between your thighs, kneading the soft flesh.

“So soft.” He bums to you, placing his head on your thighs as if they were a pillow. He's still teasing, unmoving as he looks up at you from where you want him.

“Nete,” Your voice breaks, reaching down to pull softly at his braids, growing impatient. His palms rub along your skin soothingly, moving from your outer thighs, up to your hips where he grabs and holds. “Please, take it off,” You plead as be toys with the ties on the side of your hip, twirling them around his finger.

“Of course, pretty.” Neteyam finally caves in, pulling your loincloth off carefully. You feel his heartbeat increase, pupils growing even more. Your adrenaline masks your embarrassment, wanting him more than ever. Neteyam peers up at you, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches your reaction. His breath fans over you, making your thighs tighten where they sit on his shoulders. “So pretty, so beautiful.” He mumbles, lightly licking along your heat.

You can feel the lightning shoot up your back, a moan ripping through your throat. You can feel him inhale hard, nose pressed flat against your skin as he breathes in deeply. “Neteyam! Don’t!”

“Too good,” He ignores you, breathing in your scent in deep, greedy gulps. He ignores your whining, face buried as deep as possible into your cunt.

“Neteyam, you need to rel-AH!” His arms wrap tight around your waist, dragging you along the ground. He pulls your hips easily up to his face, now kneeling and sitting on his feet. “Eywa, Nete,” A moan travels through the trees as you balance on your upper back, hands reaching down to grab his knees to try and talk sense into him. Your nails dig where they can reach, Neteyam lost to you as he licks, sucks, and flicks along your clit with ease you would expect from someone experienced.

“Need you,” He moans into your pussy, only worsening your circumstances as he sends you closer to the edge. He moans into you, enjoying eating you out as if he was being pleasured currently. Your moans are impossible to hold back, whimpering, moaning, and crying out his name. “Taste better than, fuck, anything I’ve ever bad,” He growls, tightening his hold, folding his arms more.

It’s ridiculous, how you’re positioned, completely helpless from his assault. Your knees are resting on his shoulder, accidentally flexing and sending you grinding against his face, a loud moan coming from both of you. “Do it again, ride my face,” Neteyam growls softly.

You whimper as you do so, flexing your legs and consistently pulling your pussy across his face. When your legs begin shaking too badly to continue at the same pace, he picks up the slack for you. “Going to cum,” You cry, nails digging in deeper, beginning to break skin. He doesn’t even register the pain, desperate to get you there.

“Cum, cum on my tongue,” He growls, never slowing his ministrations. You whimper as he pushes you closer and closer, legs beginning to tighten around his head.

“Cumming, Nete,” You cry, head falling against the soft moss as you do so. Your legs tighten around his head, holding him there as you ride out the orgasm. They finally loosen when the overstimulation kicks in, unable to remain locked down.

“So good, so pretty for me,” Neteyam coos, carefully moving your body so you’re once again laying flat on the ground. His palms soothe over your thighs, rubbing the shakes out where they sit around his hips. “So good, such a perfect mate for me, such a perfect girl,” He mumbles.

“Nete, need you,” You whine, using the last bit of your strength to sit up. Your hands push softly at his shoulders, switching the positions as you straddle his hips once more. His loin cloth is stretched, body wanting you more than he could ever tell you. Your lips crash against his, tasting yourself on his face. Heat immediately spreads across your cheeks, slight embarrassment, as you fumble with his ties. This time, he lets you.

“You okay, pretty?” Neteyam coos as you untie him, eyes never leaving your face. His hands slide along your hips, making their way in between your thighs once again. “Are you going to be able to take me, hmm?” His voice has a slight teasing tone, but you know there’s concern underneath it as well. Your head falls forward as he slowly sinks a finger into your heat, allowing your face to nestle in his shoulder.

“I want you, Neteyam. I want your cock,” You complain softly, body aching with want.

“I know, but I don't want you to hurt yourself,'' Neteyam has a purr rumbling in his chest. He cares for you, so deeply, even as he tortures himself with the amount of restraint he’s exercising. Another whine is pulled past your lips as another finger slips in, curling to hit just right. “There it is, there you go,” Neteyam coos as you turn to putty in his hold, fingers exactly where you need him. He stretches you thoroughly, to his liking. Pleasure shoots through your spine, mind melting. “Okay, you got this,” He smiles at you, fingers rubbing comforting circles on your hips.

Your shaky hands line him up, excitement and nerves shooting through your body. Your breathing is uneven as you sink down, panting as you sink down to the base, hips pressed together. “Fuck, fuck,” Neteyam pants, one of his hands holding your hips and encouraging you to grind against him. It draws soft moans from the two of you, the spiritual and physical connection between the two of you making your mind feel fuzzy, almost numb. “You’re doing so good for me, my sweet mate. Taking me so well, taking it so well.” He encourages, gently rocking up into you.

“My mate, my mighty warrior.” You pant, gathering all of the strength you still have to rock yourself along his cock, doing your best to take all of him each time. Neteyam feels feral as you pant on top of him, thighs shaking on either side of his hips. Only he can make you feel like this, only he can see you in this state, all for him. You’re taking him so well, so warm and welcoming as you coax him inside with each thrust. You’re so close, holding his body completely flush against yours. All of his senses are full of you, one hand holding your back and the other has a death grip on your hip.

“So good to me, all for me, only for me.” Neteyam continues to encourage you, your whimpers and mewls filling his ears as you hide in his shoulder. Possessiveness grows, consumes him as you shudder into him, his sweet mate. He's never felt like this, his skin hot, a strong desire growing in his chest.

“Want to cum, Nete.” You’re so sensitive, so hot just because of him. You whimper, words slurred as you fight to think even the slightest bit straight. Your arms are wrapped around him for purchase, the only thing providing you stability as you grind down on his cock. Your small whimpers and moans fill your ears, making you flush red in embarrassment. Biting them back, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip is the best you can manage. Neteyam picks it up instantly, both due to your connection and his ears alerting him.

“What is it, my mate?” Neteyam draws, not able to use the term enough. “Not feeling good anymore?” The confidence and smugness oozes from each work, he knows the answers to his questions before he even asks. “Don’t want to give me your little whines anymore?” Neteyam knows what he’s doing, punctuating the end of his sentence with a gentle snap up of his hips. A broken sob falls from your lips, mewls and whines quickly following it. “There she is, are you going to come for me? Let me hear you, yawne. Use me to make yourself feel good, pretty.”

His voice is intoxicating, feels like you’re on drugs as you pant and whine on top of him. Your hips grind down, no longer bouncing as you whimper as his tip repeatedly hits where you want him, where you need him. Neteyam happily allows you, fondness growing stronger as you do as you please, following his instructions. It doesn’t feel as good to him this way, but god damn it, seeing you in this state easily makes up for it.

“Feels good, hm?” He asks softly, words muffled by your hair as you pull him close. One hand slides down, gently circling the little bud that he knows makes you tick.

“Ah, ah, gonna cum for you, Nete,” Your voice mewls, soft pants breaking up your words as you ride him how you like. Your thighs are shaking worse now, chasing your high like nothing else matters. “Can I cum, please?”

“Of course,” His abs clench hard as he fights off his orgasm, your pussy clenching hard around him as you become more sensitive. His restraint is wearing thin, patience being tested like never before. As you teeter closer, his fingers circle just the slightest bit faster. And you’re cumming around him, hard. His own lips part with a moan as you squeeze his length, shaky thighs continuing to move as your determination to ride it out takes over. Your pants fill his senses, heartbeat filling his own chest, minds molding together.

Eventually, your hips slow, one hand quickly grabbing and pulling his wrist away from your heat. “Nete,” You whimper, squeezing around him. Your arms wrap around his back, chests flush together. “Want you to feel good,”

“I am, yawne.” Neteyam smiles at you, rolling his hips up into you. “Wanted you to feel good, first.'' His voice is gentle as he maneuvers the both of you. Your back hits the ground once again, Neteyam still in between your thighs as he follows close. “Absolutely killing me, doing all I can to hold myself back,” A small growl rumbles through his chest, pressing his hips against you, filling you as deep as possible. “Absolutely losing it,” He growls as he pulls out, snapping his hips forward. You moan, loud.

“Don’t hold back, feel good, Neteyam.” You whimper, his palms slipping underneath your thighs. Your breath catches as he hikes your legs up, hands meeting the bend of your knees as he folds you.

“I'm sorry, yawne,” Neteyam moans softly, pressing his forehead against yours as he absolutely ravishes you. His hips snap hard into you, no longer holding back as he chases his own release. You moan loudly against his lips, not quite kissing, but lips brushing together. He groans and growls, eyes falling shut as he slams his hips into you, filling your cunt completely up each time.

Your noises are unrelenting, unable to bite them back as pleasure shoots through your body with each thrust. Neteyam is feral, chasing the high that he’s edged himself off of for the last hour. “Neteyam, gonna cum, you feel too good,” You whimper, biting at your lips as you peel your eyes open to look at him. Your arms shakily move, clawing softly at his back.

“Cum, cum for me.” Neteyam mumbles, “Gonna cum with you this time, okay paskalin?” He asks softly, pressing a shaky kiss to your cheek. His hips twitch and abs tighten as he focuses on how tight you’re wrapped around him, twitching and clenching down harder as you’re about to cum for him once more. “Gonna fill you up, okay? Put a future clan leader into you,” He groans harshly, feral, animalistic. “My baby, you’ll be a good mama for me,”

“Nete, oh fuck,” You cry, cumming hard around his cock. A broken sob falls from your lips, face leaning forward. Before you even have a moment to think of it, your teeth sink deep into his shoulder, your mating bite. Neteyam shudders as you mark him, hips continuing as he fucks you through your orgasm, soon spilling into you.

“Fuck, fuck yawne, good girl,” Neteyam groans, letting go of one of your legs and holding your head. He doesn’t pull you away, but relieves the strain on your neck as you bite into him. His hips slow, every now and then thrusting into you as he fucks his cum deeper into your pussy.

You release your hold, pulling your fangs out of his skin. Laying back down, there’s blood and drool on your lips, eyes glazed over as you stare up at him. Neteyam lazily thrusts once or twice more, overstimulation kicking in before he’s slowly pulling out. “Paskalin, you okay?” He mumbles gently, carefully moving your legs to a more comfortable position. Kissing your forehead, you begin to come back, more aware of his words. “You did so well,”

“Neteyam, I see you,” You can’t help but smile at him. Your heart is so full, so fond, as your eyes water. “I love you,” It’s more human, Neteyam isn’t entirely familiar with it.

“I love you too,” Regardless, he doesn’t miss a beat, “I see you.” Neteyam nuzzles his face into you, arms wrapping around your back as he lays down, pulling you close. “We are mated for life, I am with you now.”

little extra lol

A couple of days have passed since then, and Neteyam has never felt so secure and confident in his life. His father was a bit upset he didn’t get the run down before like his mother did, but nothing serious. Kiri and Lo’ak saw it coming, and Tuk? She’s just as excited as Neteyam. You’ve started your official Tsahìk training now, alongside copious amounts of support from the Sully family.

While he is your #1 supporter, he can’t help but feel annoyed that he’s barely seen you the last couple of days. His mate, and they only meet after sunset for rest. He hasn’t even seen your little human body in days, always falling asleep with your Avatar and your human form staying at the lab (It’s easier, you start training extremely early in the morning.)

He almost cries from relief when you wake him, small human body basically sitting on his chest. “Nete, I have a day off,” You grin, still shaking him slightly. The excitement quickly shoots south, but in a surprising way. He can feel your heartbeat, it’s as if you were back to the night you had officially become one. But you were human.

“Y/n?” He mumbles, thinking he’s still half asleep. As he sits up and becomes more aware, he’s not imagining it. “I see you,”

“I see you-“

“No, I see you.” He mumbles, placing his hand over his heart. “Like we’re connected, I can feel your heartbeat right now…” Neteyam thinks hard, and he thinks hard for hot minute, “Like, our tsaheylu works even in your human body, I feel you, sense you,”

Neteyam’s mind runs fuzzy at the realization, big head falling into the crook of your neck and taking a deep, long inhale of your scent. He's suddenly way too aware of you sitting in his lap, small frame draped over his much, much larger one. “Y/n,” He groans, deep as his arms wrap around you, caging you in. His hands knead at your soft flesh, well-fed, healthy, fertile. His mind absolutely reels at the thought, the embodiment of fertility.

“Neteyam, we can’t,” You mumble against his skin, voice close to his ear, goosebumps spreading. He knows why, he does. As his frame easily hides your entire body just with his torso, he knows. He’d break you, truly. “I can link with my-“

“No, no.” He shakes his head, palms groping at the soft meat of your thighs. He doesn’t want your Avatar, he wants you. He feels this body, he’s connected not with your bodies, but with you. The thought sends him.

“Nete, I physically can't,” There’s humor in your words, a slight giggle as you pull away to peer at him. His pupils are giant, mind cloudy as he stares at you. You chuckle, hands pulling at your mask. With one deep breath, you pull it off.

“What are you-“ His panicked tone is quickly cut off when your lips press against his, soft and careful. It doesn’t help his situation, lips so unbelievably soft where they’re connected with his own. His mind melts, eagerly kissing you back as if he was starved from it. He whines, a genuine sound, when you pull back, yanking your mask on quickly.

“You worry a lot,”

“I worry for you,” Neteyam rolls his eyes. Maybe if he ignores you, and his unbelievable attraction for you, the tightness in his cloth will go away. It's all wishful thinking, impossible thinking, given how you’re currently straddling his thighs. “You have to give me a bit to calm down, yawne. I can't do it with you sitting like this,” He whines, growing uncomfortable with each passing second.

“Why can’t I help you?” You whine, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck, a small pout on your face.

“Because I’m scared I will lose it and hurt you,”

“You’d never hurt me, Nete,” It’s a genuine statement, both of you know it. “Not in a way I didn’t want, anyway,”

“Yawne,” He groans, “Not helping.”

“C’mon, let’s go find somewhere private.” You almost have it in you to laugh at him when you climb off his lap, a genuine crazed look in his eyes.

“Do you not feel it in this body?” Neteyam asks as he runs after you, picking you up to more easily scale home tree. You think for a couple of moments, shrugging.

“I think I feel it all the time, I thought it was normal,” You answer him honestly, arms and legs wrapped around his body as he climbs and runs. His ikran meets him hastily, and he’s taking off before he even asks you if you’d like to sit on the saddle instead.

“Maybe I couldn’t tell because I haven't seen you in this body in awhile,” He concludes as he lands, hoping down with you still death gripped to his back. “Been killing me, Y/n. It’s like torture, being away from you for so long,” He whines, immediately turning to wrap you in his hold when your feet touch the soft grass. He kneels carefully, more level with you as he continues the dramatics. “Missed your little human body tripping over sticks,” He teases, knowing the sticks are logs for you. His head finds itself against your chest, listening to the way your heart beats.

“Oh the drama,” You laugh, making yourself comfortable when you sit down. “Can't kiss you in this body, it’s unfair,” You complain as you lay down, knowing Neteyam is soon to find his place in between your thighs. It takes almost no time, legs widening to accommodate the large Na’vi.

“We can work out a system,” He really wants to kiss you, “Deep breath,” He barely lets you finish before he pulls the mask off, immediately slamming his lips against your own. He’s desperate and needy, the feeling only multiplying as you’re finally close. He can feel the heat in between your legs, making him lose his judgment. He kisses you as if his life depends on it for a bit, before his care for your well-being overrides his thoughts and he’s placing the mask back on. “Fuck, just missed you so much,” He grins, trailing down to your chest as he kisses along your sensitive and thin skin. It’s like torture when he trails down, his mind melting as his fingers trail over the edge of your own beaded cloth.

“It’s okay Nete,” You’re quick to reassure, watching as he immediately takes the go ahead and unties it. Wasting no time at all, he genuinely wastes no time as his head immediately buries in between your legs. “NETEYAM, FUCK!” You yelp, his giant head occupying all of the space. He's starved, so starved, and he eats to reflect that. You’re cumming once then again, then again, and then-

“One more for me paskalin, just too good, tastes too good, it’ll be the last one,”

Once his face finds its way out, he’s absolutely covered in your arousal and cum. His fingers find his own cloth, an idea popping in his head, “Do you trust me, love?”

“Of course,” He grins softly, allowing himself to finally be free of his constraint. He moans softly at that alone, so turned on, so drunk on you that his mind is definitely not working to its full capacitors. He whines loud as he slides in between your legs, big, angry cock easily slipping through your wet folds. You whimper as his tip brushes your sensitive clit, continuing to push past it until your hips are flush together. He moans, loud, when he looks down, angry cock just barely nudging at your breasts.

“I'd break you, yawne,” He growls softly, sliding his hips back before snapping them forward, “I'd break this little body,” He lets out more of a whine when you squeeze your thighs together, giving him more friction, more touch. “But oh, you’d be so full, stuffed full of my cock,” He groans, shuddering slightly on top of you.

“I know, Nete,” You whimper back softly, losing your mind as he fucks himself against your pussy, shuttering each time he slips into where your thighs squeeze. He genuinely would, likely fuck up your lungs and all vital organs in the process.

You’re absolutely soaked from his touch, providing more than enough lubrication for him as he easily slides between your lips, constantly hitting your clit right where you need it. It’s obscene, the sounds it’s making, you would think he’s fucking into you. “Nete,” You whimper, hands pulling at his arms to try and get him closer. He obliges happily, leaning forward to press himself against

you. He whines loudly, cock in between either of your bodies. “Love you,”

“Love you too, paskalin,” He smiles softly, kissing the top of your head, “I’m gonna cum for you, hm?” He smiles, watching your face as you eagerly nod. “Deep breath for me, pretty girl,” He grins hard, a giant smile on his face as you follow his instructions. He carefully pulls your mask off, wasting no time in slamming his lips onto yours. He devours your whines, whimpers, and moans, greedily taking them as his hips continue to pump against you. He kisses you until he cums, getting lost in the feel of your lips against his. You whimper as you feel him moan into your mouth, hands beginning to press against his biceps.

“My mate,” You whimper, reaching for his hand that still holds your mask. He quickly gets the message, placing it back onto your face.

“Yawne, my girl,” He sighs softly, hips still grinding against yours as he rides out his high with you. “Need you to cum again,” He mumbles against your lips, knowing you weren’t able to cum with him. “Just one more, one more. This will be the last, I promise love,” He almost babbles against your skin, kissing it.

“I can't, Neteyam,” You whine as his hands trail in between your legs, gently spreading your thighs to allow for more access. Your thighs are no match for his strength, whimpering gently when his fingers ghost across your clit.

“You can, yawne, for me, please?” He grins softly, a bit of a smirk spreading across his face. The smile never leaves his face as your hands grip hard at his wrists, discoloring his skin from the pressure. Neteyam is obsessed with the way your skin flushes for him, puffy swollen lips parting as he fingers slide in between them. He could watch it for hours, sit here and please you for hours if you’d let him.

A moan rips past your lips when two of his digits slip into your heat, filled to the brim from just his fingers. Your nails dig into his skin, clenching down around him almost impossibly tight. His eyes are narrowed in, mesmerized as his fingers disappear into you. Neteyam curls his fingers just right, an even louder moan. Your hips jerk hard, legs lifting and wrapping around his arms. “Feels too good,” You whine, thighs locking around him.

“Cum for me, Y/n,” He groans, prying your legs apart and replacing it with his head. The pleasure is still too much, legs wrapping around his head as his mouth and fingers never cease for a second.

“Gonna cum for you, gonna cum hard,” You groan, flexing slightly as you grind against his face. Your orgasm blinds you when it washes over you, legs shaking, chest rising and falling rapidly, stomach clenching hard as you rise up. You cum hard, squirting as Neteyam’s fingers still curl and grind into your soft walls. Neteyam has a crazed look on his face, eyes wide as he stares up at you. He's covered in your cum and arousal, just like you're covered in his currently.

“Y/n,”

“Neteyam I’m sorry I’ve never done-“

“Do it again,”

“No, please, Nete,” You whimper loudly, as his fingers curl just right, pleasure washing over you just right. It takes the last bit of your energy, cumming all over his arm in waves as you shake in his hold. Your hands immediately pull his face out from your thighs as you calm him down. He slowly relents, gentle as he removes himself from you.

“Thank you, my mate,” He smiles, “Love you so much,”

“Love you too,”

“Come, let’s go clean up,” He’s careful as he picks you up, leaving your items where they lay. He carefully makes his way over to the river, slowly stepping in as you hold onto his neck, legs wrapped around his torso. A giant smile spreads across your face as he lowers the both of you in, water up to your necks now.

“I'm sorry I’ve been so busy recently, Neteyam,” You smile, pushing back some braids that have fallen from his efforts. “Trying hard to get everything quickly,” You grin, hand softly holding his cheek in your hold, “So I can be a good Tsahìk for the people, for you,”

“I know you will,” He speaks softly, allowing his head to fall forward, pressing his forehead against yours, “I understand, I just miss you,” He instinctively curls into your touch where it rests on his cheek.

“I miss you too, your grandmother asks me about you sometimes. She told me Eywa sees us,”

“Oh, is that so?” He entertains you, smiling when he pulls back. He's standing, but you’re solely relying on him to not have to tread the water and use up what little energy you have left. “What does she wanna know?”

“Eh, you know. The basic grandma stuff, if you’re eating well, staying safe,” You smile, cupping some of the water and dragging it along his face. You clean him up, leaning back in his embrace when you’re satisfied with the job. His arms hold you, hands splayed across your back. “If you’re happy these days.”

“Of course I am, yawne, I have you,” His voice is sincere and gentle as he pulls you close, tucking your head into his shoulder as he holds the base of your neck. “All I need.”

@rainbowsocks @nerys-nerie bc you guys commented on the other post, luv uuuu

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