Growing Sideways
growing sideways
pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader
summary: kuroo tetsurou is all grown up. you think you might have to learn to let him go. or: an exploration of love, and loving things.
note: sorry that it's been so long!! college has been so silly funny goofy (derogatory) but i'm on break now and pretending that i dno't have to go back in a week.
sort of spoilers for occupations (kuroo, kenma, yaku) post-timeskip! (but also doesn’t really follow canonical futures… sort of a mess, to be honest.) my attempt at reconciling what i’d hoped for him and what he becomes. title taken from a noah kahan song of the same name that has next to nothing to do with the actual fic.
cw: mention of throwing up (doesn’t actually happen, though)
___
When Kuroo Tetsurou gets scouted to a professional team in Russia, you’re the last person he tells. Technically, he doesn’t tell you at all – it’s Kenma who does, blinking up at you from behind a curtain of his hair.
“I thought he’d told you already,” he says, voice as apologetic as you’ve ever heard it, which is to say apathetic, as always, but with a dash of sympathy mixed in.
“No,” you say, because there’s nothing else left you can say. “He didn’t.”
Kenma doesn’t say anything, shifting his focus back to his game. You take the moment he offers you to exhale, quietly. To resituate yourself around this new hurt in your chest.
“Does everyone else know?” you ask. Kenma lifts one of his shoulders up, a half-shrug.
“Maybe not his mom,” he offers. This is poor consolation, and both of you know it – Kuroo hasn’t talked to his mother beyond stilted platitudes in years, not since she uprooted her life and his sister and half his chest and taken it with her, leaving a husband, a son, and a house with too many rooms.
“So he’s gonna take it, then,” you say. Kuroo is a lot of things – mercurial, bright, a pain in the ass when he puts his mind to it – but everyone knows that first and foremost, he’s a volleyball player. You’d realized it for yourself, back in your first year of university, when one of your friends had dragged you to a match and you’d spotted him, arms outstretched, fingers splayed and braced as if he thought he could hold a sun in his hands. When he’d landed, you’d caught sight of his grin, almost too large for his face.
Ah, you’d thought. So this is what it means to love something.
The next morning, at your eight-thirty introductory economics lecture, you’d shuffled in and put your head down on the desk, drifting closer and closer to sleep every second.
Then the person behind you had poked you, hard, and you’d let out a half-scream, jolting up in your seat in a way that made every single person in your lecture hall, including your professor, look at you.
The person behind you had started laughing – an ugly laugh, cackling like a hyena, the kind of laugh that made you want to join in, despite your burning embarrassment. You’d swiveled around to face him as the professor resumed his lecturing.
“What is wrong with you,” you’d hissed. It was the boy from yesterday– the middle blocker with the awful hair.
He’d raised his hands up in surrender, although there was still a crooked grin on his face. “Sorry, sorry,” he’d said. “Just was wondering if you had a pencil.”
“You know,” you’d said, fishing one from your bag. “There are easier ways to ask people for a pencil than giving them heart attacks.”
You’d passed the pencil to him, and he’d given you a jaunty little salute with it, one that made your lips curl up despite yourself. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he’d said, and you’d turned back around again, and that was that.
Except the next lecture, you’d arrived at your usual seat to find a disposable cup of coffee there, likely from the little cafe downstairs. You’d turned to the boy behind you, raising your eyebrows.
“As a thank you,” he’d shrugged, leaning back in his chair in a way you’d suspected was meant to be cool and casual. “And also so that you don’t keep falling asleep in lecture.”
“How do you know I’ve been falling asleep in lecture,” you’d said, a little grumpily, pulling the cup towards you and taking a sip nonetheless. It wasn’t your usual order, but it was drinkable, and if you were being honest, you’d need all the caffeine you could get.
He’d watched you take a sip of the drink, a pleased smile playing on his face. “I sit right behind you. I’ve seen you take a nap at your desk every single week.”
“I’ll have you know that that’s just the posture I learn best in,” you’d sniffed.
“What, drooling?”
“I do not drool,” you’d said, haughty. “And even if I did, how would you even know? You’re such a stalker.”
“Harsh,” he’d whistled, although the smile didn’t leave his face. “I’m just observant.”
You’d rolled your eyes at him, swiveling around to face the front of the room as the professor began his lecture. And if you’d managed – for the first time this entire semester – to make it all the way through without falling asleep, well, that was nobody’s business but your own.
The next week, another cup was waiting for you.
“You know,” you’d said, “I think you’ve repaid your debt from the pencil in full.”
“Oh, this isn’t about the pencil,” he’d replied. “I didn’t get the right order for you last week, did I? I wanted to try again this time.”
You’d blinked at him. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Kuroo,” he’d said. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”
“Well, Kuroo Tetsurou,” you’d said, “did you ever think about just asking me for my order?”
“What’s the fun in that?” he’d asked.
The drinks kept coming, every week, without fail, ranging from plain to ridiculously extravagant. He still hadn’t gotten your order, although at some point during the semester, he’d migrated from sitting behind you to sitting right next to you, passing you stupid notes and doodling all over your notebooks.
The last lecture’s drink was wrong, again, although you kept drinking it anyways. “You should come hang out with me and my friends sometime,” he’d said, sudden, and you’d nearly choked.
“What brought this on?”
“I dunno,” he’d said, uncharacteristically shy, looking away from you. “You know when you meet some people and it’s just like, they’re meant to be in my life, so you have to try really hard to not let them go?”
“So making a girl scream during lecture is your idea of an ideal introduction,” you’d said, and he’d rolled his eyes, leaning over to lightly push at your shoulder.
“You know what I mean.”
“I saw one of your volleyball matches,” you’d told him. Suddenly you’d wanted him to know. “At the beginning of the semester. Before we’d met.”
He seemed to understand what you were trying to say. “What’d you think?”
“You must really love it,” you’d said. “Playing volleyball.”
“I do.”
“Well, then, Kuroo-kun. I’ll come meet your friends, under one condition.” He’d raised his eyebrows at you, expectantly.
“I get to tell you my coffee order,” you’d said. “Some of these drinks are becoming downright disgusting.”
“You drink them anyway,” he’d replied. “But I suppose that’s a fair trade.”
You’d grinned at him, and he’d grinned back, and it’d all gone from there.
You’ve known since you started talking to him that Kuroo is a natural at getting people to orbit around him. He draws people near – crooked grin, warm eyes, quick wit – and then holds them there, at arm’s length, never quite letting them get any closer. You’d thought, perhaps, that you could be an exception to this. That he’d seen something in you that was enough for him to want to let you in. To pull you close. The thing is this: in your heart of hearts you are a romantic, and to you Kuroo has always been a little like the sun, like tilting your face towards the golden wash of afternoon and remembering, soft and gentle like falling into something, So this is what it is to love.
“I don’t know,” Kenma says, and you look at him looking at his game. He is, out of anyone, the most likely to understand how you feel: the air knocked out of you, leaving you gasping and breathless . But he has the reassurance of more than a decade of friendship behind him, built on neighboring houses and the squeak of shoes on a gymnasium floor. Some days you feel like what you have with Kuroo is fragile and insubstantial, playing-card houses on a precarious surface. Like if he left he’d take it all with him.
“Of course he’s going to take it,” you say past the lump in your throat. “He’d be an idiot not to.”
Kenma doesn’t say anything, but the little sound effects from his game pause. He blinks up at you through his bangs.
“We should throw him a party,” you say. “Or something. To celebrate.”
“If you think that’s a good idea,” he says, noncommittal.
There is an ache in your chest and you think that once you leave Kenma’s apartment you won’t be able to stop yourself from crying. “Of course it’s a good idea. You know how much Kuroo loves having everyone he loves in one place.”
“That’s exactly the thing,” Kenma murmurs, but you don’t hear him, already pulling out your phone to make a list.
“Invites, decorations, food… Oh! Kenma, do you think Kuroo would like it if we made him saba? Or went out to a restaurant that specializes?”
“Probably,” he says. The game resumes. “He’s always going on about doca-something acid.”
“Docosahexaenoic acid,” you correct absently, scrolling through a list of nearby restaurants. Kuroo’s talked about it enough – and despite your better judgment, you’ve listened to his rants enough times – for you to remember the name in full.
You miss the look that Kenma gives you, exasperatedly fond.
It turns out that Kuroo knows a lot of people. Even more than you’d thought. There are the guys that he plays with on the volleyball team, of course, but then there’s also his other business major friends and the other undergraduates who work in the same lab that he does in his free time (because of course he’d be the type of person to do that.) Then there’s the neighbors he’d had freshman year and still miraculously keeps in touch with, and the ones from sophomore year. Then Kenma casually mentions that Kuroo still frequently talks to everyone from his volleyball team his third year of high school, and you have to beg him to let you use his phone and ensure that everyone from there will be able to attend.
Then there’s the issue of getting enough food: you know from prior experience that volleyball players can eat, and there’s a part of you that worries that the budget you’ve scraped together from whatever your friends managed to donate won’t be enough for one of them, let alone the stampede you’re about to invite into your apartment. And besides, there’s decorations to think about, and maybe a present for Kuroo, and maybe it would be cute if you could get one of those places that rents out cats to send over a couple – do those places actually exist or was the whole thing just a stress-induced hallucination? Either way, the stress of budgeting is enough to make you understand why Kuroo had succumbed to his base capitalistic tendencies and become a business major. You’ll never be able to make fun of him for it again.
Kenma solves this problem readily enough, extending a credit card towards you with barely any hesitation when you mention it in passing.
“Stop stressing out,” he mutters. “It’ll be okay. Kuro’s not the kind who’d care about things like that.”
You blink at him. He determinedly avoids your eyes. “Kenma,” you say. “You know what I have to do, don’t you.”
He sighs, setting down his game. “If you must.”
You launch yourself at him in a bone-crushing hug, and although you hear him click his tongue at you, you can also feel the way his hands come up to rest on your back, soft and steady.
“He asked me if I’d seen you around recently,” Kenma mentions when you separate.
“What did you say?”
“Said you seemed busy. He said he hadn’t seen you and was worried he’d done something.”
There isn’t much to say back to that. You busy yourself by picking at one of the threads in your shirtsleeves.
Kenma says your name.
“I know,” you say. “I know. I just – I don’t know.”
Kuroo has many smiles, you know. There’s the one when he’s trying to get a rise out of someone, lazy and lean. There’s the one when he sees a cute animal or a small child or the old lady you always run into the market, the one that reminds him of his obaa-chan. There’s the one he gets when he sees you, sometimes, and doesn’t realize that you’re seeing him back, small and fond in a way that makes you a little afraid, sometimes. At the enormity of it. At how fragile it seems, some days. At what it could become, if given the chance.
And there’s the one he has when he’s playing volleyball, the one that makes his eyes go all squinty; the one that’s a little too large, just on this side of feral, because he’s so happy that he doesn’t remember to think about things like presentability and not scaring the people around him, both on his side and the other side of the net. The one he has when he hits a kill block, or a no-touch ace.
You don’t think you could stand to take that from him.
“I’ve just been busy. With the party planning, and all,” you finish, meekly. You know he knows you’re lying. Still, Kenma doesn’t push.
“If you say so,” he hums, turning back to his computer. “It seemed like he missed you, though.”
You hate yourself for the small spark of want that blooms in your chest.
Kuroo Tetsurou, in another life, could probably be yours. You’ve seen the way his ears turn red sometimes when you press a little too close, thighs close enough to be touching at one of the tables of your favorite izakaya. You know he knows your favorites the same way that he knows his own, know that in his head there’s a file of nothing but his knowledge about you, filled to bursting. You know that there are days, hours, moments where his touch lingers on your wrist, your cheek, the back of your arm – never long enough to presume, just long enough for you to notice.
In this life, you’ve seen the way he plays volleyball clearly enough to know that he loves it. That in terms of paths, this is probably the most natural one for him, as easy as breathing. That the world is so big and he deserves to go out and see it, that he’s growing up and some days you feel in your bones that he’s leaving you behind, in the same way that you’d left behind the yellow rubber rainboots you’d adored as a child, outgrown and overworn.
You busy yourself with party planning, so that at least everyone except Kuroo knows that you have a valid reason for ignoring him. Once the budgeting crisis is averted, things go surprisingly smoothly: money really does make the world go round, you think, in a rare moment of reflection between arguing with the caterer and double-checking that you have enough chairs in your apartment.
It’s good, to keep busy. Drowns out your heartbeat in your ears. He’s leaving, he’s leaving, he’s leaving. He’s leaving and you’re not gonna even ask him to stay.
The day of the party is bright and clear, because the universe loves Kuroo in the same way that you do. Bokuto – one of Kuroo’s teammates, and one of your favorites out of all of Kuroo’s teammates (although you’ve long maintained that it would be difficult for Bokuto not to be anyone’s favorite) – is tasked with distracting Kuroo for the day, then leading him to your apartment. This is a good plan because Bokuto is, himself, easily distractible, and Kuroo is, more often than not, perfectly willing to go along with Bokuto’s distractions. However, this is also a bad plan because Bokuto is, out of everyone you’ve invited, perhaps the second-most likely person to spoil the plans for the party. (The first being Lev Haiba, naturally.) To counterbalance that, you’ve asked Akaashi Keiji, one of your juniors, to go along – he has a natural talent for keeping Bokuto in check, more so than anyone you’ve ever met. But you’d feel bad, leaving Akaashi alone to deal with the two of them like that, so to ensure your plan had the greatest chance of success possible, you convince (read: bribed) Kenma to go along with the three of them. Odds are good that he won’t do much to curb Kuroo and Bokuto, but you’re willing to hope that his presence will keep Kuroo from doing something completely insane.
Back in your apartment, you’re adding the last finishing touches to the streamers hanging in the doorway. Yaku, next to you, squints at the streamers. “They’re a little crooked,” he says.
You bite back your immediate response, which is to tell him that if you had a stepladder tall enough that he could reach you’d gladly go get it for him so he could fix them himself. Instead, you ask, “How is it, over there, Yakkun?”
“In Russia?” he asks, and you nod. He pauses, considering. “It was rough, at first.”
“But you got through it,” you say, voice coming out a little more desperately than you’d like. “You like it there now.”
“Yeah,” he says. “It won’t ever be Japan, but I think I can make it home. And Kuroo’s always been able to land on his feet, wherever it goes. I don’t think you need to worry about him, even if he does decide to take the offer.”
“Of course he’s going to take the offer,” you say. “Why wouldn’t he –”
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You take it out to read a text from Akaashi. Heading back, it says. Be there in three.
Hurriedly, you jam your phone back into your pocket. “Okay, everyone, places!” you call, watching with a critical eye as everyone tucks themselves away.
“Lev, that’s not gonna work. Hiding behind the lamp’s not gonna do much.”
“Idiot,” you hear someone – Yaku? – mutter, and you laugh a little despite yourself. Your phone buzzes again. In the elevator, you read, and hastily you dive underneath a table with one of Kuroo’s kouhai from high school – Fukunaga, you think – to hide yourself, just as you hear the sound of a key in a lock.
“I just don’t understand why she’d ask you to take care of her plants,” Kuroo says as he steps through the door, sounding a little bemused. “I mean, I love you, bro, but I still haven’t forgotten what happened that one time –”
Three, two, one, you mouth silently, holding your fingers out where everyone can see them, then –
“Surprise!” you call out, stepping out of your hiding place. The others all scramble to follow, adding their own voices to the chorus.
It is, to your delight, one of the few times you’ve seen Kuroo properly surprised, enough that he actually staggers back a step, eyes wide.
“What – how – when – what is this for?” he asks, directing his question to you, standing right in front of him.
“To say congratulations, Kuroo,” you reply. Suddenly your throat is a little dry. “On getting the offer.”
This time his eyes widen with realization – and maybe a little flash of guilt. He covers it quickly, though, and you’re left a little uncertain, like stepping on uneven ground.
“So you didn’t actually ask Bokuto to take care of your plants,” he says instead, and you laugh. The sound is a little brittle in your ears.
“Of course not,” you say. “I haven’t forgotten that one time when he –”
“Did I mention we have cake?” Bokuto swoops in. “I picked out the flavor myself and everything. You gotta come see it. The lady at the store was so nice, though I don’t think she understand exactly what I was asking her to put on it at first –”
With a wry eye roll to you, Kuroo lets himself be dragged away. The rest of the partygoers take it as their sign to start mingling, and you let yourself fade into the chatter, becoming nothing more than background noise. It fits uncomfortably, now, where before it might have been a little more natural. Kuroo has always been good at creating space intentionally, whether it be for you or anyone else: a sly smirk for your eyes only, a joke directed towards you and you alone. It’s one of the reasons why you think everyone feels like they can fall into his orbit more effortlessly.
Kenma appears by your side, unobtrusive as usual. “You should talk to him.”
“And say what?”
“Whatever you want.”
There is a want in your throat and it chokes you. I want you to stay. I know you should go. I’m terrified that I’ll never see you again, either way – if I made you stay and you resented it, if I let you leave and you loved it.
“I’m worried that he’s getting bored here,” you say instead. “Like it’s not challenging him enough. Like he wants more.”
There are things that you’re willing to admit you can be slightly paranoid about: like putting too much of your heart on the table, like finding someone who loves all of you but the worst parts. Like loving someone and watching them start to resent you, like wanting to learn how to love in the right way but really only learning how to suffocate. And you know it’s possible that in this could be a combination of all those things, that rationally Kuroo knows better than anyone what’s his to keep and what’s his to give away. But you’ve known him for so long now, and there’s a part of you that likes to think you know him better than almost anyone in the world. It’s that part of you that insists you can see Kuroo Tetsurou getting tired, a little bit. He walks off the court with his head tilted back, eyes closed against the glaring lights on the gymnasium, far above. When he looms over the net, you think of it as less a state of being and more of a conscious action: a weary sigh. Another day at work.
Kuroo Tetsurou, you think, is learning to want new things. To love new things. And that’s okay – that’s more than okay. There’s just a selfish part of you that wishes you could be there to see him through it.
Kenma hasn’t said anything, staring at you patiently. You think you might throw up.
“I have to go,” you say, limp, and spin on your heel to slip out the back door. Somewhere behind you, Bokuto’s cheers rise above the din, followed by Kuroo’s cackling laugh. It makes your chest ache a little, but at the very least it provides you with some cover.
Your little apartment building stands at an intersection between two streets. Turn right and you’ll get to the park with the stray cats, the ones who’ve started coming around more frequently now that Kuroo has started showing up (now that Kuroo has started bringing them treats, although he denies it every time you bring it up.) Turn left and walk far enough and there’s a little embankment that slopes down to a river. Sometimes in the mornings joggers will pass through the area, but in the dead of the night like it is now the grassy slope is deserted. You sink down onto it, ignoring the way the cold sinks into your skin.
Part of you wants to cry. Most of you is glad you aren’t: can’t, maybe, or won’t.
You tell yourself the grand lesson in this is that you have to be better at letting go. That there is a lot that your hands could hold – a lot that your hands could want to hold, given the time. Given the opportunity – but not all of it is meant to be held by you. That there is a whole world out there and tonight it feels like it’s slipping through your fingers.
Perhaps the grand lesson is just this: that loss exists. That wanting perseveres.
“Hey,” a voice says from behind you. You know without turning who it is, fingers tightening in the grass.
“Hey,” you say back.
“Can I sit?”
You wave a hand listlessly at the space beside you. “There’s space available.”
He settles in next to you, close enough that your thighs could brush if you were a little more careless, if you hadn’t been holding yourself strung tight and stiff.
“Why aren’t you in there?” you ask finally, when it becomes clear that he has no intention of saying anything, that he’s planning on waiting until you start first. “It’s your party.”
“Why aren’t you in there?” he counters. “You planned it.”
“It was a little loud,” you offer. “Was getting a little sleepy.”
“You weren’t there anymore,” he says. “Kenma said he saw you heading out.”
The words stick in the hollow of your throat, between your collarbones. You can feel them lodged there. “Kuroo,” you say, careful to not let your voice shake, “you can’t say things like that.”
There’s a hand on your knee, long fingers and broad palms spreading over your skin easily. His hand is warm. You direct your gaze down to it. His hand is big enough that it nearly covers your knee.
“Why not?”
“It’s not fair,” you say. “I know you’re not that stupid, Kuroo. You can’t go saying things like that when you’re about to leave.”
He says your name, sharp and soft.
“And of course I’m happy you’re going. I know you’re not happy – not as happy here as you could be. I know it’s an incredible opportunity. I know you deserve it, and you deserve every incredible thing that comes your way. Or at least – I want to be happy for you, Kuroo. I want to be able to give you that much, at least.”
He says your name again. It sounds fond enough that you gain the courage to look up at him. He’s looking right at you. The hand on your knee reaches for your jaw, instead, cradling it tenderly.
“I think I’m gonna stay,” he says. “And I’m sorry for not telling you about the offer earlier. I just – I didn’t want you to think I was leaving. I wasn’t even sure if I was, at first. But then I kept coming back to it – the fact that I didn’t want you to think I was leaving. Not at all, not even a possibility. It made me realize that – well. Russia would be incredible. But I think – I know – I would rather stay.”
The words take a moment to sort themselves out in your brain. Then:
“Kuroo, you can’t,” you choke out. “This is your dream.”
“It was,” he says. “For the longest time, it was. And I thought it was something I had to keep loving. Something that I had to pursue. Like I would be doing a disservice to the me I was when I was little, if I decided I didn’t want to follow the path I’ve wanted since I first started playing volleyball.”
You say nothing. There is a sun rising in your throat. You are afraid to let it go.
“But you know,” he says, thoughtful, “I think there is a difference between loving something and being in love with something.”
“Yeah?” you say. He reaches for your hand, flipping it over from where it rests in the grass so that your palm is facing upward. Slots his fingers through the gaps between your own.
“Yeah,” he says, squeezing once, twice, three times. “Like – I love volleyball, you know.”
“I know,” you say, because you do.
“But I’m in love with it here. With Japan. With the connections I’ve made, with the people who keep me here.”
“I’m glad,” you say, because you are, selfishly so.
“And,” he says, hesitant in a way that you’ve only ever seen once before, back when he was just the boy with the awful laugh and the ugly hair and who kept getting you coffee and getting it wrong, “I’m in love with you.”
And the sun, blooming over the horizon.
More Posts from Bakersbucky and Others
i loved thissss!!! i cried jSDFHDEfgr U DID GREAT :)) i'd love a part 2!!
the night we met |tsu'tey x reader|
what: after spending her growing years pining after the future Olo'eyktan, y/n tearfully recounts the moving moments throughout their ‘friendship’ as she hears of his promising to Sylwanin
warnings: all the angst- sorry besties, not canon compliant (kinda?),
words: 2k
what have you: heyo this is my first avatar fic and first actual written fic in quite some time! so if you like it please let me know! Thinking of doing a part two (possibly in his pov?)- let me know if you’re interested in that! thanks for reading :)
I am not the only traveler
Who has not repaid his debt
I've been searching for a trail to follow again
Take me back to the night we met
Life with Tsu’tey by your side was nothing short of a dream. He was your longest friend and closest companion. It seemed as though from the moment you could walk, the two of you were joined at the hip. Always together, never far apart. This carried on well into your growing years, both of you nearing adulthood side by side.
You weren’t sure when you started to notice Tsu’tey becoming a man before your very eyes. His shoulders broadened and he seemed to grow a foot overnight. The clan started to come to him for problems instead of his father and he solved them with a grace foreign to you. Tsu’tey was no longer that awkward boy you once knew, he was officially the future Olo'eyktan. Eytukan had chosen him officially before Eywa and the people. Soon enough he was off training in the ways of leading the clan.
This didn’t keep him from visiting you. He always held true to his promises of hunting with you or simply sitting aloft a tree talking well into the night. Tsu’tey always had time for you and you for him. You can’t exactly pinpoint the moment you started to fall for him, but you fell hard. The two of you would often speak candidly of your futures and on more than one occasion he had insisted that you would still be just as important as you were now. Those words lit a spark of hope in your heart that he would one day choose you as a mate. Although the odds were stacked against you from the start, the promise in his words kept you praying to Eywa that he would choose you.
You heard the hunters before you saw them, screeching ikrans landing loudly in front of Hometree. As you watched Tsu’tey dismount his beautiful banshee with ease, celebrating with his fellow clan members. Celebrating the success of making it through his Dream Hunt. The beating of your heart increased as you watched your childhood friend. His proud smile radiating from across the camp
“If you stare any harder Y/N you’re going to set him on fire,” a voice startled you from behind. Slowly turning from your ‘hiding spot’, you came face to face with Arvok and his teasing smirk.
“Oh shove off you skxawng! Leave me be for once!” you hissed.
“Now is that how to address the brother of your best friend I’m wounded Y/N,” Arvok dramatically spoke, clutching his heart in faux hurt.
“Grow up, you child! I am just watching them all return, not just him,” you defended meekly, hearing the lie as clearly as you spoke it.
“Ah, of course. May I tell Tsu’tey you are watching his hunters closely then? Maybe you are looking to mate with one of them?” he teased, before quickly stepping away when your tail smacked his leg.
Rolling your eyes at the young na’vi, you pushed yourself off the tree that was previously hiding your form. Trust Arvok to catch you spying on his brother. A slight blush began to rise to your cheeks as you hurried out from the treeline. Walking towards the center of the clan, you heard talk of a celebration coming that evening. As you got closer to the fire, and to Tsu’tey, the former Olo'eyktan Eytukan called for everyone to join him.
“My people! The time has come! Our Tsu’tey has passed his last rights, he is now one of the people, tonight we will celebrate!” he praised. The air was filled with shouts and cheering as the clan took in their future leader. The clan was proud of the man Tsu’tey had become, a fierce warrior and kind friend.
Where you stood at the back of the pack you could hear a group of younger na’vi girls giggling while casting sly looks at Tsu’tey. Faintly you overhead one, Aythi asked, “Maybe he will choose a mate this night? Do you think he will mate with the future tsahìk? Sylwanin is quite lovely.”
Your heart ached as you watched the group nod in agreement at the possible pairing. This was always the way. The Olo’eyktan mated with the Tsahik, but you held onto those promising words Tsu’tey had spoken moons ago. You would always be in his future. Slowly a kernel of doubt weaseled into your heart, what if he only meant that you would be there as you were there now? What if he only intended to keep you as his friend and nothing more? Rationally this was always a possibility but you thought you had more time before you had to think about it.
Before you could sink further into your darkening thoughts, two strong hands clutched your shoulders and quickly spun you around. Plastering a smile on your face, you were graced with the golden eyes of your closest friend. Grabbing you by your waist, you soon found yourself being spun into a tight hug. A sincere laugh tumbling out of your mouth as you looked down at Tsu’teys happy smile.
“I did it, Ma’Y/N! I survived my dream hunt! All thanks to your guidance,” he cheered happily, oblivious to how your heart stuttered in your chest.
Ma’Y/N. Ma’Y/N. Ma’Y/N.
He had never let that slip from his lips. Not in the 18 years you had known him, always careful with his words and how he addressed you. But you couldn’t stop the hope that squeezed your heart tightly.
Pulling from his embrace, you fell into step with him as he talked quickly of his experience.
“It was amazing! The glow warm tasted odd but after I felt like I was floating on air. I could not tell where I ended and Eywa started. It was surreal, Y/N. I can not wait for you to experience it!” he spoke enthusiastically, hands waving to accentuate his point.
“I’m so happy for you ‘Tey! For you are now our fiercest warrior and we will celebrate that at eclipse! You are one step closer to your bright future my friend,” you responding happily.
The conversation flowed easily as the two of you discussed the coming events and soon enough you were at your families section of hammocks. After a brief goodbye, you waved gently to Tsu’tey as you headed towards the vines that served as an entrance to your home. Just as you reached the greenery, a voice called to you, “Wear the dark blue beaded top for me? It is my favorite on you Ma’Y/N.”
The answering smile you sent him almost spilled your feelings to you. Glee spread throughout your body and you were all too eager to appease his wishes. He had never been one to compliment anything about you, besides your hunting skills and finding out he had a favorite item of yours? That was almost too much for your delicate heart to handle.
And then I can tell myself
What the hell I'm supposed to do
And then I can tell myself
Not to ride along with you
You were never one to fret about your appearance, but something urged you to look your best tonight. For all you knew it could be the start of your future, so you took your time in getting ready. The taut braids that normally fell along your shoulders were undone, leaving your hair falling in soft waves along your back. You also took great care in arranging the dark blue beaded top, being extra mindful that it fell across your chest in the most tasteful way. By the time you had arrived at the celebration that evening it was in full swing. The fire was raging and the delicious smell of today's kill blanketed the area. You knew you hadn’t missed anything important when you scanned the area and noted that Tsu’tey was not yet there.
Walking towards the fire, you watched as mated couples danced together to the loud music of the drums. The longing look in your eyes is noticeable by anyone who actually cared to look. Luckily for you, no one usually spared you much of a glance. Quickly eating a bowl of meat, the crowd hushed. Following the clans line of sight, your breath catching in your chest.
There he was, in all of his magnificent beauty. Tsu’tey stood tall and proud as he walked towards the clan, head held high. With bright yellow and navy paint marking his body, he looked confident as he walked towards his fate, his future. Studying the markings, your heart beating faster as you took in the color that matched the top he requested.
Surely this was a sign that he was going to choose you, this must be a sign from Eywa that you two would be mated. Why else would he ask you to match him? He is allowed to choose his colors and he picks the color of your beads. Heart hammering against your ribcage, you pushed yourself closer to the base of Hometree eagerly. You wanted to be the first to grab him once he had been announced.
You watched him walk up the thickest root before taking his place beside Eytukan and Mo’at. He looked the picture of the perfect warrior, the perfect Olo’eyktan. The clan quieted down as Eytukan cleared his throat while approaching the crowd.
“My friends, let us gather this eve to celebrate the fierce warrior Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyitan. As he has completed his final rite of passage, the Dream Hunt. You are Omaticaya now. You may make your bow from the wood of Hometree. You have shown great courage and strength to our people. It is decided that our future Olo’eyktan will be mated with my Sylwanin, our future Tsahik. Before Eywa they will be chosen as our clan's future! Let us celebrate for both occasions this eve!” he bellows, chants erupting from the crowd.
Shouts of happiness and congrats emerge from the clan behind you. But you find yourself rooted to the spot and as you find Tsu’teys eyes, it feels as though Eywa herself is rooted to the spot. You’re not sure what you expected his face to show, but happiness wasn’t it. The despair in your heart as Sylwanin grabs his hand is almost too much to bear. The action that finally cleaves your heart in two, is when you notice the colors of her beaded top- yellow and navy. She was marked as his before you ever even knew.
Tears gathered along your waterline as you pushed yourself through the crowd. As you neared the forest edge, you were almost sure someone called your name but the ache in your heart wouldn’t allow you to turn around. Deep down you knew who it was and you knew if you faced him right now it would utterly ruin you.
As you laid in your hammock with the distant sound of music, you allowed the tears to fall freely. It was almost as if you could audibly feel your heart breaking in half. The one you loved was promised to another, promised to the one clan member who he should belong to. You knew now that you would have no place in his future, promised words no longer held meaning here. At least not in the way you believed they would. No, you would live your future with no more than passing hellos and seeing his family grow. You’ll spend your days as a ghost of his past.
I had all and then most of you
Some and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
Oh, take me back to the night we met
i def fw pornstaches
do y’all fw those thick 70s pornstaches on guys
loved this!! :)
dating neteyam as a human
| warnings: neteyam being cute lolzie?? idk what else honestly
| also reader lives at the lab, just to make it easier for me haha
kiri was the whole reason neteyam asked you out, she pestered him about his crush on you until he finally did something about it. so thanks to kiri !!
teases you about how short you are even though he loves it, he also picks you up a lot
talking of picking you up, if you fall asleep somewhere you shouldn’t. neteyam will gently pick up your head and swoop his free hand under your leg and pick you up, carefully and quietly as possible and bring you back to your bed.
he also likes placing his hands around the backs of your thighs and lifting you up, your hands finding their way around his neck. sometimes he just carry’s you like this for the fun of it, or when he thinks you shouldn’t be on the ground if your high up in the trees.
makes things for you, bracelets, necklaces.. you name it and he’ll (try) to make it for you. neytiri had taught him growing up how to make things. he used to always make things for his mother, kiri and tuk before he met you. his only problem is having to make them extra small so they fit around you, which is hard considering how big his hands are.
visits the lab as much as possible to see you, it’s easier for the both of you because you don’t have to wear a mask when your inside. so neteyam can touch and kiss your face whenever he pleases 💋
speaking of kissing, this boy lovessss to kiss you. kissed your lips, cheeks, shoulder, neck and even your hands. if you have any scars he kisses them aswell.
your very close with kiri, whenever neteyam is out with jake or doing his own things you hang out with kiri. neteyam thinks it’s adorable that his sister is your best friend.
SCREAMING RN
The F-Word
The F word
Poe Dameron X G/N reader
Rating : T+
Wordcount : 6500(ish)
Warnings : Angst, FLUFF, canonical style violence, mention of injury, mention of blood, talk of death, near death experience, language, idiots in love, Poe just being adorable
Summary : Poe Dameron often likes to say he's "fine", it's "fine", everything's "fine". But when a mission goes drastically wrong you no longer believe the pilot and his use of the F-Word.
A/N : Softer and fluffier than it sounds I promise…
GIF by the lovely Salome-C
Anon - I know you submitted this request forever ago. I'm sorry it took so long to write. Since I wasn't sure which prompt list you wanted number 45 form I picked number 45 from two lists:
"You're hurt. Please just let me heal it" & "I bought this. It's your favourite colour."
— — — — — —
There were two things you had quickly realised about Poe Dameron since joining the Resistance.
The first is that the rumours were true. He actually is the best pilot in the galaxy, and much more humble about it than you would have expected. And the second, is that whenever the pilot used the word "fine", things were, in general, very much not fine.
So listening to him grit out the word through clenched teeth, hammering buttons on the console in front of him as the ship groans and alarms blare around you, you already knew things were bad. Very, very bad.
Glancing over at him, you can see sweat trickling down his brow, he's breathing hard, one hand pressed tightly against his side, the glistening of red peeking through his fingers. He'd insisted that the glancing blow from a vibro-knife during the fight that had you running back to your ship, had been nothing. He insisted it barely grazed him, and he'd be perfectly fine, but that you needed to leave now. And with the First Order hot on your tails, you hadn't had time to question it. That is, until now.
"Poe, please tell me that's not blood I'm seeing!"
"I said I'm fine," he growls in response, slamming his hand down on the controls before swinging the ship around in a way that has you almost thrown from your seat.
"You're hurt! I need to patch that!"
"Now is not the time to play medic when we have the first order busting in our cargo doors!" He shouts, clearly frustrated with your concern.
"Now's not the time for you to bleed out over the kriffin floor, either!" You yell back, redirecting your fire to take out a Tie creeping up on you.
"I know that!" He snaps, swinging the ship again. "This is not good. Not good."
You can hear him mumbling to himself between stuttered breaths as he tries to get your hyperdrive back online, while simultaneously trying to evade the first order fire. You yourself are barely keeping pace with your shots, there's too many, too quick, and Poe's flying is too erratic.
"Poe, I'm having some real trouble here," you shout over the noise, taking out another two ties, which are quickly replaced by more.
"I just need…a few minutes." Something in his voice sounds wrong, it's quiet, barely whispered out above the blaring alarm. It sends fear shooting through you.
Taking your eyes from the battle in front of you, you look back over at him. His movements are sluggish, and he groans leaning over the console. When he catches you looking, he shakes his head.
"I'm fine. Just keep shooting."
You want to keep looking at him, to make sure he's still breathing at least, but trying to keep up with the enemy ships surrounding you needs all of your attention, and when the ship judders and groans under another hit, you have no choice but to concentrate on the battle. That is, until a soft series of beeps gets both your attention.
"Ok good. Hyperdrives up, mostly," the pilot nods, taking a deep breath. "It'll do what we need."
Another round of fire glances off your shields, making the ship give a shudder of protest before you spin to take out the Tie circling you.
"Shields aren't going to…hold...much…l-longer.' His words are slurred and spaced as he tries to breathe through the pain every jolt of the ship must be causing him. Even with the little medical training you have, you know the amount of blood spreading out across his shirt, the amount of pain he's in, is not a good sign.
"Poe?"
"Just shoot!" He yells, making you flinch at his tone.
Shoot. All you had to do was shoot.
~
With a shudder the ship blips into hyperspace, taking a series of quick timed jumps, designed to throw off anyone who would try to follow you. When you finally come to the last jump, deep in the heart of dead space, you check the tracking console and let out a woot.
"We did it! I don't think they managed to follow us! Poe we-" the words die on your tongue as you glance over at the pilot. He's deathly pale, sweat making his hair curl at the ends, staring at the beeping console display with a frown. "Poe, you're not happy? Why aren't we happy?"
"I don't…it's fine. We'll be fine," his fingers continue tapping away, watching the flickering statistics scroll past.
"Why aren't we happy?" You ask again quietly, worry creeping into your tone. Bringing your eyes back to the display, you pull up the same information he has, and your stomach drops. The shields were gone, life support was rapidly running out and worse your fuel tank had been hit. The last of your fuel had been burned up with the final jump, rendering the ship dead.
Poe must see the look of horror on your face, and he constantly tries to reassure you in a soft, confident tone. The one he used on you when you went into your first battle and froze. The one he uses to talk to the new recruits when they get scared.
"Hey, don't worry, ok? I can-I can get a signal…out…everything will be fine."
Drawing your eyes back to the pilot, you watch as he doubles over, red seeping out over his fingers as he clutches his side, gasping in pain. You're out of your seat and at his side in seconds, trying to peel his hands away, so you can assess the situation.
"Poe, you gotta let me look at it," you beg, kneeling down and placing your hands over his.
"We don't… have time," he grits out, panting for breath.
"Yeah and I don't have time for you to go dying on me, ok? You're going to bleed out, and I'm not going to be the girl that let the poster boy of the resistance die!" You hold his stubborn gaze steady until he finally drops his hand away from his stomach. Letting out a soft sigh of relief, you carefully lift up his shirt to look at the wound, flinching at his hiss of pain. Your stomach gives a sickening turn as you take in the ragged slice through his side.
"Ok, ok, so, it probably just looks worse than it is right? Sure, you're about to tell me you're fine." You force a smile to your lips as you press your hand over the wound, attempting to stem the bleeding.
The fact he's strangely quiet is what makes you look up again. His head lolls on his chest, eyes closed, sweat dripping off his brow, breathing…but barely.
~
"Keep still, I'm not done." You sigh as he moves for what feels like the thousandth time as you try to stitch his wound.
"It hurts!" The pilot complains, shifting again, which earns a growl of warning from you.
"Yeah, well I'm not a medical droid, so you're gonna have to put up and stop whining about it. Or shall I just let you continue to bleed out all over the cockpit? Besides, the painkillers will kick in soon enough."
He lets out another hiss of pain, and you do feel bad, really you do. If you had a med droid it would have been quicker, easier and Poe probably would have stayed asleep for it. Unfortunately for you, he'd woken with a start, ripping half the stitches out when he tried to jump out of the pilot seat, meaning you had to start over with very little medical equipment. And since then he seemed to do everything possible to make this job harder.
Pausing in your actions, you soften your approach, letting out a sigh and trying to bite down your building fear.
"You're hurt. Please just let me heal it?"
"I'm fine," he insists with an annoyed huff, but looking him over you can still see the sheen of sweat on his skin and the stuttered way he's breathing through the pain, especially since you had to remove his shirt to patch the wound.
"Yeah, course you are," you mutter, pushing him back down when he tries to get up. "Please don't move. I'm not a good medic, and the resistance needs you alive."
"Disagree." He lets out a hiss of pain as you put in another stitch. "Actually, bad medic part, I might agree with."
He groans as he tries to get up again, and this time when you press him down you hold your hands against his chest, pinning him in place.
"Poe, stop! I'm serious. Sit your damn ass down and let me finish this." Something in your tone seems to make him stop, gazing up at you and giving you an almost playful smile.
"Yes ma'am,"
"Remind me never to fly with you again," you mutter to yourself, going back to fixing a medpatch and bandage over the wound. Frowning at the blood still seeping through.
Taking off your scarf, you gently try to clean up some of the blood covering his side, checking for any further injuries. Poe gently catches your wrist, holding you still as his eyebrows pull together.
"You know that's going to get ruined? It's your favourite one."
You frown at the fact he knows that, but then the rational part of your brain kicks in. Of course he does, you wear it everywhere. It had been a gift from home, the last thing you'd taken with you when you left for the resistance, a reminder of what you would be fighting for. You're home, everyone's homes, families, loved ones.
"Yeah well, it's just material," you shrug, refusing to look up at him, "I can get a new one."
"It's not, though, is it?" He asks softly, letting you go. From the corner of your eye you see him fingering the chain around his neck, and you know he understands. Things are most often never what they appear to be.
You stay silent, going back to cleaning him up, and he doesn't stop you again or push you for an answer, instead he lets silence settle over you for a long moment.
"Sorry I've been a bit of a dick. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I know you're trying to help," You pause and lift your eyes to look at him, but Poe is staring at his boots.
"The state of you, I'd say you're in an immense amount of pain. If I was you, I'd have done a lot more yelling. So please don't apologise," you give him a reassuring smile, watching as his eyes flick over your face.
"Still sorry," he sighs softly. Catching your hand, he squeezes your fingers gently. "I just didn't want anything to happen to you. I just want to get you back safely."
Even though both your hands are covered in blood, and you're floating through space waiting to be blasted into stardust by the First Order, or suffocated when the life support runs out, the touch still makes your heart leap. You're fairly sure he has no idea of the crush you've been harbouring since meeting the resistance pilot, and in all honesty you're glad for that. Poe, with his good looks and reputation could have anyone he wanted, and you suspect he did. There was no need to embarrass yourself, or him, when he turned you down.
You can't find an answer to his words, so you allow the silence to drag out for much longer than it needs to, savouring the feeling of his hand in yours. Of course, Poe wants to get you back safely. He holds himself accountable for too many deaths already, although they aren't his fault. If you died out here he'd only blame himself and that's the last thing you want.
But you couldn't let yourself think like that. Someone would come for you and everything would be fine. There wouldn't be anymore bodies to add to his conscience today.
Letting go of his hand, you swallow hard and busy yourself clearing up the medical equipment.
"So, Commander, how are you feeling? Let me guess, fine?" You ask, still unable to look back up at him and trying to lighten the tension threading through the cockpit. His answer is so smooth you could almost think he's had it lined up for a while now.
"Like you're just using this as an excuse to see me shirtless."
You hope he doesn't notice the way your hands fumble on the medkit at his words, or the way the heat rises to your face. Instead, you try to cover them both with a sigh and a roll of your eyes.
"Not everyone is trying to get you naked, you know."
"I didn't say everyone. I said y-" he cuts off his own words, letting out a low whine of pain as he sits up, leaning over the console. "We gotta try and get some help or get moving before they catch up. Remind me again why we didn't bring an astromec?"
"Easy mission, in and out, non-hostile, won't need one, and BB is busy doing something for the General. I can handle this myself."
Poe gives a huff of laughter of your impression of him, one that ends in a gasp and has his hands flying to hold his side. Your own hands automatically cover his, as though you could make any difference to the pain he's in by pressing your palm against his knuckles.
"I'm fine, don't worry. Just don't make me laugh again," he smiles reassuringly, but you can feel his fingers trembling under yours.
"I'm banning that word as soon as we get back. The next time you use the word fine in my presence I'll-" you pause, not sure what your actual threat would be, and it earns you a lopsided grin.
"You'll what?"
"I'll do something terrible you won't like," you finish lamely. "Now just sit still while I see what we can do about getting a distress signal out."
~
"Fuck," the curse stutters out quietly, and he tries to cover it with a cough, but you catch the word, and the grimace of pain he tries to mask. It sends a spark of worry through you. He shouldn't still be in this much pain, not after the amount of painkillers you've dosed him with over the past hour.
His eyes catch yours in the dim emergency lighting and despite the pain, he still manages to give you a cheeky smile. "Caught you staring. Would you rather I put my shit…urgh…shirt back on?"
"You're in pain," is your flat response, no longer even taking any notice of his lack of clothing, "can I do anything to help?"
"You can kiss me?"
The data pad you'd been holding while checking for a rescue, clatters noisily to the floor as your hands forget to work, staring at him in shock.
"What?"
"I said you can kiss me." He wheezes out a small laugh with a grimace of pain, evidently entertained by your reaction. With a huff, you pick up the data pad, brushing down your clothes in distraction.
"Why would I do that?"
"Because it would distract me from the pain. It's my dying wish. You have to grant it."
"You are not dying. Don't talk like that," you frown at him, your stomach twisting as you look him over. He's too pale, and all too clearly trembling from the pain.
"Feels a lot like dying." The absolute lack of humour in his words is what worries you the most.
Kneeling down next to him, you press the back of your hand to his forehead, fear splintering through you at the burning heat that meets your skin. Glancing down at the wound, you can see blood still slowly seeping through the bandages and your stomach lurches at the sight, well aware he shouldn't still be bleeding this much. Carefully peeling down some of the bandages, you look over the wound, taking in the black threads creeping out under his skin from the cut. It's like nothing you've ever seen before - They run like dark veins, spider webbing out across his skin, spreading further with each passing moment. You have to carefully school your expression in order to not alarm him, but Poe is the most observant person you know, and he notices even the smallest stiffen of your shoulders.
"It's not looking good, is it?"
"No, it's not looking good," you admit quietly, noticing he doesn't even look down for himself.
"You know, I always thought I'd go out in battle? Pulling some heroic stunt in my X-Wing?" He sighs, leaning back in the chair and staring at the darkness through the transparisteel pane, his breathing shallow and laboured. "At least it's still out here, in the stars."
"Poe, listen, you aren't dying here. I forbid it. I order you to make it home and live a long, happy life."
He smiles, rolling his head onto his shoulder and flicking his eyes to you. It's clear the effort of holding it up is becoming too much, which only makes your heart pound harder in fear.
"I'm your boss. You don't make orders," he tries to give you a teasing grin, but he only manages a grimace.
"I'm staging a mutiny against you. So, now I'm the boss, and I'm ordering you not to die." You hope the words come out more firmly than they feel, desperate more to keep him talking than anything else.
"I've never been good at following orders," his lips twitch in a small smile as beads of sweat break free from his forehead, rolling down over his cheeks like tears. "I'll try, though, just for you. Need a better offer tho- fuck!" he doubles over, taking a few short shaking breaths.
Something was wrong. Something was so terribly wrong, and you have no idea what to do, how to help. You can feel tears pricking your eyes, helplessly pressing your hands over his.
Glancing down, your heart drops into your stomach as the SOS signal still pinging away on the datapad shows nothing, no incoming ships, no planets or moons, just the empty vastness of space and the quickly running out life support.
Poe was going to die out here. And soon after you would too. How poetic to die with the man you fell for, before you ever had the courage to tell him. Far from romantic like in the holovids you only feel a bitter disappointment of time stolen from you, and the sharp tang of fear on your tongue.
Poe goes quiet so suddenly that you think he's already gone, his eyes drifting shut, sweat dripping off him, his breathing barely there. Jumping into action, you grab his shoulders.
"Hey no, no, no sleeping. Stay awake, ok? Poe, stay awake," you desperately shake him until his eyes open a little, blinking blearily at you as though he can't see you properly. "I'll make you a better deal, ok? How about, you stay awake and make it home alive, and then I'll kiss you. I promise. But you gotta get home alive first," you warn him, reaching up to brush his damp curls away from his forehead.
Poe affords you a small, exhausted smile, his eyes half lidded and glazed.
"I always liked you, you know? Bit disappointed…I won't…be able to…accept that…deal," his sentence is broken between gasped breaths and fear tightens painfully in your chest.
You shush him softly, shaking your head.
"You're going to be fine, ok? You're fine. You're always fine." Grabbing his hand, you hold it tightly in yours, feeling the tears you'd been holding back break free, rolling down your cheeks as you whisper.
Poe doesn't even attempt to squeeze your fingers, his hand stays limp in yours as you desperately bite back sobs of fear. "I promise I'll kiss you when we get back. I promise you can have anything you like. Just don't die on me, ok?"
"Don't cry…I'll…be fine," he chokes out. He lifts as hand, as though he would brush the tears from your cheeks but it never makes it that far up, it drops limp to his side as his eyes roll back in his head, his breathing stutters, and silence engulfs the ship.
~
You sit back in your chair, stretching out your sore muscles, staring at the words on your report. They told you there was nothing you could have done. The blade had been tipped with poison and it was spreading fast through the pilot's veins, each beat of his heart pushed him closer to death. The medical training you had, the supplies on the ship, none of it was equipped to deal with something like that. No, you did everything you could. You couldn't have done anything more, or at least that's what they tell you.
It had felt like days sitting in silence, Poe's hand growing colder in yours, the only noise the warning beep of the failing life support. No matter how hard you tried to wake him, he wouldn't even stir. Dizzy from the lack of oxygen, you'd laid your head against his thigh, squeezing his cold hand as you waited for your own demise. You were grateful for the dim lighting then. It meant you didn't have to look, you didn't have to see if his breathing had stopped.
The image of Poe motionless, his head lolling to one side, as they carried him onto the rescue ship, had haunted your dreams for weeks. He was no longer the effervescent pilot, no longer full of life, teasing and commanding. The last image you had of him was a broken doll, limp and lifeless.
You can kiss me?
His words ring out so clear in the room it's almost as though he was standing beside you, with the playful smirk he always seems to have around you, dancing in his lips.
Maker, you missed him.
You'd gotten used to his presence in your life — the easy friendship and banter, the way he never made you feel like less, even though you're the least experienced pilot he's ever had in his squadron. You miss his laughter that happens at the most inappropriate times. You miss him distracting you on purpose when you're trying to concentrate. You even missed him being snappy and grumpy when he was tired. You missed him so much more than you could have imagined.
With a sniff, you hastily wipe your eyes. It was no good dwelling on what already happened.
"No point crying over spilt caf. Just get another cup," Poe would often tell you brightly when things went wrong.
Taking a deep breath, you go back to the report, determined to finish it in the hopes that once it was done, you'd never have to think on that day again. That's the reason you'd come here, all the way at the edge of the base, to the abandoned part, filled with empty rooms full of dust, to finish this damn report in peace. But even as your fingers hover over the keys to start typing, a hesitant knock on the door stops you.
With a groan of annoyance, you push the chair away from the desk, standing up on stiff legs that have been sitting too long and don't want to move. It’s a surprise that anyone has even come this far down the base, let alone appears to be purposely coming to find you.
Pressing your hand to the door panel it slides open with a soft woosh, revealing a head of messy curls, an impish grin and a pilot who should, to your knowledge, still be laid up in medical recovering for at least another couple of weeks.
"Poe! You're out!"
"Yeah, I escaped my captors, and I'm on the run! So I probably don't have long before they drag me back. Did you miss me?" He grins in an all too familiar way, as though you haven't been separated for weeks. "I've been looking for you for ages. Why are you here? Nobody uses this room anymore. Meeting up with a secret lover?" He pokes his head into the small room you've been using to work in, confirming that it's empty, as though you might have been hiding someone inside.
You blink in shock a few times, still surprised he's standing in front of you, when the nurses had exasperatedly told you for the tenth time, that his recovery would take at least a few more weeks. He didn't yet have his full strength, nothing had changed since yesterday and no you were absolutely not allowed to visit him. But the grinning man standing in the doorway, albeit a little less put together than he usually would be with his crumpled untucked shirt, tired eyes and messy hair, seems like he's perfectly fine.
"So, what are you doing?" He asks again, raising an eyebrow when you fail to answer his questions.
"Oh, I just needed somewhere quiet to finish some reports, you know, about what happened. And I guess I'm hiding a bit," you shrug, shuffling your feet, suddenly awkward in his presence after weeks of not being allowed to see him. "People keep asking me what happened, how you are, if I've seen you, blah blah. I swear, if I have to hear one more girl simper at the fact you got hurt, I might defect to the First Order just to save my sanity. How are you feeling?"
"Me? I'm fine, and I can't help being popular," he grins with an easy shrug. "Can you tell me who's been asking though? I'm hoping one person in particular might have been enquiring after me?"
You frown at him, trying to bury the spark of hurt at the comment. It isn't Poe's fault you have feelings he doesn't know about. But even so, your answer comes out snappier than you mean.
"Go ask them yourself instead of bothering me."
Poe raises both eyebrows this time at your tone, but there's still a hint of a smile on his lips as he shrugs.
"Alright, I will. In fact, I'll go ask them right now." He spins on his heel and walks two steps, barely giving you time to feel the stab of hurt in your chest, before he turns back around to face you. "Oh, hey, there you are! I just wanted to ask if you have been enquiring about me and my wellbeing since I almost died?"
"What are you doing?" You sigh with a shake of your head, your demeanour softening as he walks back to you.
"Asking the only person on base I care about, at least in a ‘I’ve fallen head over heels for you’ sort of way, if they asked about me while I was recovering?"
You flounder, opening your mouth and closing it again as he grins. Heat floods through every inch of your skin, and you're sure your expression is one of absolute shock.
"No? And here I thought they were upset and worried about me. Frankly, I'm a bit offended now because they made me a promise. And you know, promises made on people's death beds you have to keep. It's the law." He stares at you seriously, his expression almost grave but it's not hard to see him fighting back a smile.
You have to fight to keep your breathing steady, your stomach plunging down to your feet at his words. Part of you had perhaps hoped that he hadn't heard you say that, that maybe he'd be too out of it by then to remember it, that maybe the trauma had wiped it from his mind. Or, at the very least, he would have taken it as a joke. Now you can't tell now if he's using it to tease you, or he's actually serious.
"If I remember right," he pauses, tapping his chin with his index finger as he pretends to think, "I think you might have said I could have anything I wanted if we got home? Sound about right?" He raises an eyebrow at you as he watches you squirm in embarrassment.
"I-I…well… it was a stressful situation…" you stutter, heat prickling out across your skin, "I just…wanted to make sure you got home…and…I-I just…you know, said stuff to keep you awake."
His expression softens as you trail off, gesturing wildly and trying to defend your words.
"Oh, so you don't want to kiss me?" He tilts his head, regarding you standing frozen, still trying to process exactly what he's trying to tell you. "Listen, I'm an idiot. I should have told you this a long time ago. I know you like me. You're terrible at hiding it. But," he pauses with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, "I always thought you would make a move if it's what you wanted. But then out there, when you made that promise, I thought maybe… maybe you do want me as much as I want you?"
You could kiss me?
His words come back from the ship in stark clarity. You had assumed he was joking, trying to lighten the mood and tease you. But now you realise he was serious. He was asking for something he thought he couldn't ever have, because it was his last chance to do it.
A whole storm of emotions rise up quickly and overwhelmingly, the biggest being the regret that you hadn't listened, not truly listened. Not just that day on the ship, but always. The more you think about it, the more opportunities you know he's given you to say something, anything, about your feelings, and you'd let them pass by.
Taking a deep breath, you meet his questioning gaze.
"Well…I did promise you anything you wanted if you got home," you finally answer quietly.
The pilot pauses for just a moment, swallowing almost nervously as though he had expected your rejection, before he nods solemnly, taking a step closer to you. Bringing his hand up to rest against the side of your neck, he rubs his thumb across your cheek before down to softly trace your bottom lip.
"You did," he replies softly, as your breath catches at his touch.
"And it was your dying wish," you continue, your heart hammering against your ribs in anticipation.
"It was," he whispers, leaning into you and bringing his lips a breath away from yours, allowing his soft curls to brush against your forehead. The blood roars in your ears, deafeningly loud and you wonder if he can feel the heat currently blazing out across your skin.
"And you're sure you're in your right mind?"
"I am," he answers, and you catch the flicker of a smile before he presses his lips to yours.
It's nothing like what you imagined kissing him to be like. He's sweetly tender — first the slightest brush of his lips against yours before placing gentle kisses to your top and bottom lip. Only when you relax — the tension you hadn't realised you were holding dropping from your shoulders — does he sweep his tongue across your lower lip, deepening the kiss. His tongue slides against your own, carefully slow, as though he has all the time in the world to map each part of your mouth.
You can't help but allow a soft moan to escape as he kisses you, and your reaction seems to be the signal he needs, because he stops holding back.
His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close against him as his tongue battles yours with ravenous desire. Your hands tangle in his hair, kissing him back with as much desperate passion as he was giving you.
The way he kisses you is all consuming, wiping away thoughts of anything else that exists in the galaxy. You hardly notice the way he backs you up into the room, without ever breaking your kiss.
He doesn't pause until your legs hit the back of the desk. Only then does he pull away from you, taking your lower lip in his teeth and tugging gently. You let out a somewhat shaky breath, having only a moment to breathe before his mouth crashes into yours again, kissing you as though he's been starved of touch for years, not just a few weeks.
When you eventually break apart, giddy with excitement and breathing heavily, he continues to steal quick kisses from you, keeping you pressed close against him.
"Stars," he breathes softly, leaning his forehead against yours, as you bite your lip shyly, still trying to process the fact he kissed you, and like that. "Yeah, that was absolutely worth almost dying for."
"Yeah, maybe take out the near death experience next time though?" You laugh breathlessly, allowing your eyes to flicker closed as you enjoy the moment, trying to calm your heart to a normal speed again. Maker, there's no way you'll survive if he kisses you like that again.
"Do you mind if I sit down for a second?" He asks suddenly. Blinking yourself out of your kiss hazed daze, you notice how pale he's become, and you have a sudden stab of anxiety. It's a stark reminder that he's still not well and should be resting.
"Yeah, come on."
He doesn't walk like he needs your help, but he allows you to support him as you lead him around the other side of the desk to sit down in the chair. "This is why you were supposed to stay in medical."
"I'm useless sitting there, though," he complains. "They won't let me have visitors, they won't let me do any work. Apparently I'm too likely to tire myself out if I leave. Like they know," he scoffs with a roll of his eyes.
That at least makes your frown soften just a little. Imagining Poe confined to a small corridor of rooms was difficult, given his chaotic nature.
"You kiss a someone and you go weak at the knees. I think maybe you should be listening to people who know better?"
"I think that was because I had to look everywhere for you while evading capture," He complains, giving you a pointed look as though it's your fault. "I can't be cooped up in there any longer. I'd rather spend as much time as I can with you until they track me down. I've sent BB to tell them I'll be back later anyway," he grins proudly at his own plan to evade medical care, making you roll your eyes. "Let me do something useful, please."
"Poe," you start gently, leaning back on the desk, but he knows what's coming and gives you a pleading look, making you stop your lecture and sigh. "Fine, just tell me honestly how you're feeling now?"
"Really I'm fi-"
One glare from you stops him in his tracks. He gives you a small nod, remembering that the word is banned between you now.
"I feel like I could sleep for a month and still be tired," he sighs honestly, leaning back in the chair to stare at the ceiling, "I mean I feel like that all the time now. It's getting better but it's taking too long. I feel trapped. I need to be doing something to help. I can't just lie down all day and let everyone else do all the work."
His frustration is evident, and it makes your heart ache for him. You know this is Poe's worst nightmare, having to sit back and watch, unable to do anything to help. Pushing yourself off the desk, you instead stand between his legs, gently brushing your hands through his soft curls as he looks up at you.
"You did almost die. You just gotta take it easy for a little while. You'll be back in your X-Wing flying circles around everyone in no time." Leaning over, you hug him tightly, feeling his arms slide around your waist as he buries his face in your neck. "They said you'll be better soon. Just be patient with them, they are doing their job."
He sighs softly, squeezing you hard before he lets you go. Sitting back down on the edge of the desk, you look him over as he talks, glad the colour seems to be returning to his cheeks.
"I know. I'll go back later. But will you please let me stay for a couple of hours? I'll be fi-alright now, I promise. It just comes and goes when I overexert myself."
"Well then I guess kissing is off the cards for the rest of the day," you smile, and he gives you an unimpressed look. "Hey, you said you wanted to help. Kissing me is not helping anyone."
"It helps me," he grins. "Besides, I deserve them. I came bearing gifts!"
He fishes around in his jacket pockets, eventually slowly pulling out a length of material and placing it in your hands, his gaze hopeful and wide as you look it over. You run your fingers across the soft fabric, watching the lights catching the colour as it slips through your fingers.
"I bought this for you. It's your favourite colour, right? I know it doesn't replace the one I ruined, but still. It's a sort of thank you for saving my life. But you know if you don't like it…" he trails off, watching your expression.
He knew your favourite colour. Your heart swells, and your fingers tighten in the scarf, stopping yourself from throwing your arms around him, purely from fear the sudden movement might hurt him.
"I love it. It's honestly perfect. Thank you, Poe." Leaning over again you brush your lips sweetly against his as his eyes light up with relief.
"Wish I could take credit for anything but the colour," he smiles sheepishly. "I had to send Karè out with instructions because they wouldn't let me leave medical."
You lean back against the desk as he stands up holding his hands out for the scarf.
"Can I?"
Nodding, you hand it back to him, allowing him to carefully wrap it around your neck, his thumbs brushing softly against the edges of your jaw as he does. You wrap your arms around him as he leans into you, brushing his nose against yours, barely allowing his lips to ghost over yours, sweetly teasing you until you pout. With a soft laugh at your reaction he finally kisses you properly, with an intensity that makes your own knees go weak.
By the time you pull away, you're breathless, and the room is far too warm once more.
"If you keep kissing me like that, I'll end up in medical with you," you giggle before you pause, pulling back to look at him suspiciously. "Maybe I'm already in medical? This is just a really good dream, isn't it?"
Poe laughs softly and shakes his head.
"I really hope not, but if you do wake up, I'll kiss you again and remind you just how much I like you."
You roll your eyes and shake your head, "Ok being sweet is not going to stop me sending you back to bed."
He grins, knowing he's been caught out.
"How about we make a new deal? I’ll sit here with you, and I'll be very good and quiet, and then when you’re done with your reports I'll go back to medical for the night?” He gives you a soft kiss, and you're sure its purely in distraction.
“I feel like there’s a but coming,” you raise an eyebrow at him, and there's a look of absolute mischief shining in his eyes.
"But you have to sit on my lap,”
Maker, he was going to be a nightmare this entire recovery.
----------
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Metanoia - The journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life.
Ao3
You meet your neighbor You need a favor You go to dinner You have a secret You make a promise You don’t like silence You learn the truth You keep your promise You return a favor You need a date You go to tea You meet a ghost
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I hate it here is for all the girlies who grew up reading books as a precocious child and dreamt of worlds that exist only in a sophisticated imagination, for the girls who live in delusions
i want to see mama too⎥part one
you can read part two here and three here
→ summary: based off this request. seven years ago, you had died alongside grace while trying to protect pandora. a few months after your death it was discovered that you were pregnant; leaving tsu'tey to raise your son vu'ran without you. but, things start to get strange when vu'ran is certain he saw you move.
pairing: tsu'tey x fem reader warnings: grief, mention death, angsty word count: 1.3k authors note: finally getting around to this request !! so excited for this. this will more than likely be three parts
'hey, slow down!!' tsu'tey bellowed towards vu'ran and kiri as they ran as fast as their legs would take them through the forest. tsu'tey groaned as they completely ignored him before jake appeared by his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.
'there is no controlling them.' jake laughed as tsu'tey let a rare smile tug at his lips.
seven years ago, you were fatally shot alongside grace by the sky people while you were still in your human body. jake brought you to tsu'tey; and the both of them begged mo'at to try and save your lives. grace had sadly passed before you; the transfer from her human body to her avatar body was unsuccessful. but tsu'tey truly thought that you were going to be okay. your eyes lit up like the morning sun; only to lose all their light moments later. truthfully, he lost a lot of his faith in that moment as he felt his heart shatter and his world crash around him.
but, eywa had blessed him with a gift.
a couple of months after your death, max and norm had called tsu'tey and jake to the lab. they had informed them that after a few routine inspections of yours and graces avatars; they had discovered that you were both pregnant. you were two months along and grace was three.
tsu'tey wept. he couldn't believe that there was going to be a child in this world that was half of him and half of you; the woman he loved with all of his being. he felt a newfound hope.
'i want to see mama!' vu'ran called out as he ran back towards tsu'tey with a smile on his face. tsu'tey smiled back at his son, ruffling his hair.
'i want to see mama too.' he whispered; longing to see your beautiful face.
when the four of them had reached the lab, vu'ran and kiri bolted towards their mothers in an instant.
'be careful!! wiya!' tsu'tey shouted towards them as they ran through the lab, almost knocking over some of the scientists.
'hah... sorry.' jake chuckled to the workers as they shook their head. vu'ran jumped up onto the incubator and his wild mood finally began to settle when he looked down to see your serene face.
'hi mama...' he trailed off, tracing his fingers along the glass. tsu'tey slowly made his way over, wanting to allow your son a moment alone with you. 'i went fishing today and i caught a huge red fish!' he exclaimed; holding his hands out to show you the size of it. 'you would have loved it. it was so pretty; like you. not that you look like a fish...' tsu'tey chuckled to himself, watching your son talk to you with such love and excitement, but he was soon pulled out of his trance when vu'ran began to wave him over. tsu'tey walked over, gazing down at your motionless body as he felt a wave of sadness drown him. as much as everyone told him that time will heal all wounds, nothing seemed to heal him of your absence. 'dad caught a big fish too.' vu'ran beamed as tsu'tey smiled, putting his large hand up to the glass.
'i did, yawne. it was just like the one you caught the first time i taught you to fish.' he smiled sadly at you. vu'ran excitedly jumped up and down as he remembered another story he wanted to share with you.
'and i finally hit the long range target in shooting practice today! dad said that i'm almost as good as you.' he smiled, proudly.
'almost.' tsu'tey echoed, his eyes never leaving your form. as lucky as he was to have his son; he couldn't help but wish you were there to share these moments with him. to have seen when vu'ran took his first steps, or when he said his first word. mama. he looked down at you once more; taking in your beautiful features. he sighed deeply before turning away and allowing your son to continue talking with you. he glanced to the other side of the lab where kiri was talking with grace.
two kind, young children who were both cursed with the fate of not knowing their wonderful mothers. jake was leaning against one of the lab tables; looking towards the children with a sorrowful look laced on his features. tsu'tey made his way over to him and settled by his side.
'it isn't fair.' jake spoke, catching tsu'tey off guard. 'they should be here. they didn't deserve this.'
over the years, jake and tsu'tey had grown extremely close. they were brothers. jake and neytiri had been lifelines to tsu'tey, helping him raise vu'ran while he was still grieving; helping him cope with his loss. tsu'tey put a hand on jakes shoulder and sent him a soft smile.
'it is not fair. but that is why we must live our lives to the fullest. we must live for the both of them.... for all of them.' tsu'tey spoke as jake nodded, looking towards kiri.
'you're right.' jake said. 'you're right.'
'dad!!' vu'ran screamed as tsu'teys ears perked up. vu'ran looked towards him with terrified eyes before tsu'tey bolted over to him; pulling him from the glass.
'what? what happened?' tsu'tey questioned, frantically checking over his son. vur'an pointed towards you.
'mama! she moved!' vu'ran cried out as tsu'tey froze dead in his tracks. he looked towards your body which was still as lifeless as ever.
'vu... mama can't move.' tsu'tey tried to explain to his son with a heavy heart. 'she may look like she is moving sometimes but that is because of this incubator here.' he said, tapping the glass. kiri and jake had now made their way over, looking intensely at you. vu'ran shook his head incessantly.
'no, dad! she moved; her eyes moved!' vu'ran cried out again; this time with more excitement in his voice than fear. but tsu'tey began to grow irritated.
'hey, max.' jake called out as the scientist came running over. jake moved himself so his back was facing the kids as he spoke quietly to him. 'she can't move... right?' jake questioned.
'well...' max started. 'sometimes there can be some involuntary movement because of the receptors... it's not out of the ordinary.' he reassured but tsu'tey felt a strange sense of disappointment in his heart. he shook his head and turned back to vu'ran.
'see vu? that's what made mama move.' he spoke, firmly.
'no, dad! she-'
'vu.' tsu'tey warned.
'her eyes mo-'
'ENOUGH!!' tsu'tey screamed as vu'ran looked back at him in shock. tsu'tey glanced between jake and kiri who both looked to the child with empathetic eyes. his bottom lip began to quiver as he hung his head.
'sorry dad...' he trailed off as he began to sniffle. tsu'tey felt guilt overcome him. there were many times where he himself had been sat next to you; convinced you that had moved. that you were just sleeping. he didn't want his son to hold onto that false hope too. tsu'tey crouched down to vu'rans height.
'no... i am sorry vu. i lost my temper.. i shouldn't have shouted.' he apologised, bringing his son in for a hug.
'it's okay dad.' vu'ran promised. he had definitely gotten your heart. tsu'tey pulled away and smiled towards his son.
'how about we go home and get some dinner and then... we can go for a fly on my ikran later?' tsu'tey proposed as vu'rans eyes shined bright.
'really?' vu'ran questioned as tsu'tey nodded.
'of course. and then, we can come and visit mama again tomorrow.' vu'ran nodded excitedly as tsu'tey ruffled his hair before bringing himself back to his feet. he turned to jake who sent him an empathetic look.
'we'll be back tomorrow, max.' jake announced as max nodded.
'don't worry. i'll do some checks on the incubator and i'll make sure that doesn't happen again.' he whispered to jake who sent him a thankful smile in return.
'come on, let's go.' jake roared as he grabbed kiri and swung her onto his back while she screamed and giggled.
tags: @atokirina-writings @23victoria @randxmthxughts @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @taymaddie @aizawash0e @icarusthefoolish @blub-blub786 @live-laugh-neteyam @jakesully-sbabygirl @sharkybabe9 @neteyamslovrr @fanboyluvr @moonpie3000 @s-surreality @tarrynightss @dreamsholdpowers @honeymilkshakesblog @brisasinthewind @bothofm @n7cje @kittycow8875 @nilrilie @hislaevv @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @belos-simp69 @bewbz2110 @takeomisbitch @atwow69 @pxrtalchopped @mechformers @ikranwings @cherridile @myvath
© avatarbyamara 2023 | all rights reserved. do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own.
simon fell in love years ago, engaged to be married to an old colleague until she went MIA, assumed KIA. It took simon a few dozen bottles of bourbon and a few hundred therapy sessions to move on but he did, with you
let down his barriers enough to welcome the idea of marriage again, planting a big rock on your finger and is currently next to you on the sofa, helping you pick handkerchiefs
and when there’s a knock at the door, he doesn’t stop his conversation with you. only when you hear him open the door and drop the bottle of beer he was drinking
your eyes follow his and you’re grateful that you’re not stood right now. standing on the other side, fully-alive and not missing at all, is his first love. still wearing that ring he gave her
GOD FUCKING DAMN I AM INLOVE WITH THIS I LOVE RALAK AND READER OMG BEST AVATAR OC FIC FRRR
Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Chapter One
An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff
Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info
🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞
Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. I love her and all her art so much that when I saw Ralak I was so compelled to write a fic for him. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Teytey, you knocked it out the park with this one (as you always do, my love).
Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)
Warnings: shit ton of fluff, profanity, age gap, a lot of sexual tension, size difference, let me know if i forgot anything?
Word Count: 4.4k
Requested: Yes || No
Author’s Note: I hope I did this gorgeous man justice and wrote his character well. It was an interesting challenge to introduce his character and build a plot with it. Chapter two and three will be out shortly! I’m beyond overjoyed that you guys are excited for this 😊 I hope I don’t disappoint lool
Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.
Next ->
The Sully family adopted you from birth, taking you in as their own. They were more than patient with your delayed milestones, moving at the slow pace you set since childhood. You completed your iknimaya a cycle later than your siblings, despite your eagerness to prove your self-worth as one of the Sully’s. Being a late bloomer and smaller than the average na’vi never put a damper on your optimistic attitude, though. It only added fuel to the fire.
The news to seek uturu with the Metkayina came as a shock not only to you but the rest of your siblings, and soon became the leading topic of discussions at family dinner. Jake explained that this is what was necessary, and that you would need to ‘pull your weight’ and ‘make a real effort’. You knew he didn’t mean it as harsh as it sounded, but the words stung nonetheless, plucking out a couple heart strings when they pierced through your chest.
You’ll never forget the day of your arrival here.
War horns blew loudly, signalling your arrival to the village of Awa’atlu. All the members of the clan swarmed the shore to see what the fuss was all about. Even the little ones that could only toddle wriggled their way out of their parents’ arms to get a glimpse. It was overwhelming – to say the least – to have all these eyes on you, scanning every foreign feature of your body, walking around you to inspect you further. You’d never felt more objectified in your life.
When Tonowari and Ronal made their grand entrance on their skimwings, your heart thud furiously in your chest. Sure, the large, winged fish took you by surprise, but the man to Tonowari’s right shook you to your core. His head tilted in wariness, hunting knife secured cautiously in his right hand and the leather wrapped reign gripped tightly in his left.
Wet, long hair plastered to his chest; he eyed you down momentarily before averting his gaze to the rest of your family that calmed their ikrans. His eyes widened ever so slightly at the winged creatures, large with armoured skin, much like the beast he’s bonded with.
You couldn’t help but stare aghast at his sinewy, chiselled features – sculpted by Eywa herself. It didn’t take long for you to understand why he was Tonowari’s right-hand man. His expression of indifference remained fixed on his face. Embodying that of an akula, his presence brought an intimidation like no other.
But what you couldn’t understand were the butterflies that plagued your stomach.
Your gaze lingered for a moment too long, the akula himself now returning the leer. It sent shivers down your spine, turning your butterflies into knots. You looked away, gaze falling onto your toes that burrowed their way into the sand. You felt his eyes bore into you, taking in each dark blue stripe on your tiny body, your slender extremities and thin tail.
You peeked at him through the corner of your eye, to see his gaze locked on your tail as it swished side to side. You saw his ears perk up, and the minor curl of his lips, a sight only a person staring as intently as you would see. You watched as his expression morphed into one of confusion, just before he dropped his head all together.
You would later come to find out that he couldn’t quite understand his own butterflies in his stomach.
The giant stayed seated on his winged beast, as Tonowari and Ronal dismounted theirs and crossed the shore in only a few strides. Initially, they were wary of your arrival, thinking your family would bring war to their village. After your father reassured them, they were gracious enough to grant uturu for your family, and even dispatched their own children to teach you the ways of the people.
Naturally, you had a hard time adjusting to the new biome, water was never really your thing to begin with. You were slow in the water, slender body only holding you back more. The olo’eyktan’s son, Ao’nung, quickly grew agitated with you, handing you off to his sister, Tsireya, who was already overwhelmed with teaching your siblings. You felt like a burden, holding everyone back during lessons. There was absolutely nothing that you were getting the hang of, not even the ‘finger talk’ as you brother calls it.
For the first in your life, you felt completely defeated.
The sweet, determined girl disappeared, leaving nothing but her shell behind. You started missing lessons, making up reasons to stay back in your family marui pod. You often found yourself alone sitting on the shore in the height of the eclipse, dipping your feet into the warm water. Jake would always find his babygirl, demanding to know what was wrong. But you could never reveal the truth, not after what he said to you before your departure. Especially not now, not after failing so terribly for two entire months.
At this point, your siblings had passed their iknimaya, and you were the only one left.
----
Tsireya presses two fingertips right above your navel, resting her other hand on your chest, fixing your posture. “Breathe from down here. You must slow down your heartbeat, y/n.”
You’ve heard this a million times by now. You know this, but it didn’t matter. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get it. Frustrated, you exhale harshly, gritting your teeth so you won’t speak the words flooding your mind.
“Look. I know you’re frustrated, but you are getting so much better. If we just keep –”
“No! I’m fucking tired of this. I’ll never get it. Alright?!” you shout, shuffling to your feet to.
You scan the circle of surprised na’vi, all of which are staring up at you in disbelief. You could see Tsireya’s face screw with hurt, which only makes your heart ache more. An apology brews in your chest, when all five pairs of eyes flicker to something behind you. Turning on your heels, you see what everyone is looking at.
Jake, Tonowari, and his right-hand man all standing in front of you, presumably listening to your every word. You stand there for a bit, eyes bouncing between Tonowari and Jake before landing on the giant. He stands tall, staring off into the distance with that same deadpan look on his face. His hair is tucked behind his ears, revealing the stud in his lobe, the freckles on his jaw – the deeper blue markings on his neck.
This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him, seeing the first time you two met things were... eventful.
His freckles are conspicuous, even in broad daylight, beautifully patterned and abundant throughout his body. Perhaps it’s his lighter-cyan coloured skin and swirls for stripes, but his freckles twinkled just right from the reflection of the water. They even seemed to trace his stripe pattern on his forehead and brow bones. A single tahni under each eye... his ocean, impassive eyes.
A sleeve of tattoos covers his right arm, a sleeve on his right knee to his ankle, and a tattoo of stripes below his navel that went underneath his – oh. Your brows lift slightly, tensed facial muscles relaxing.
That’s an interesting place for a tattoo.
This tattoo continued between his prominent v-lines, under the band of his loincloth. You begin counting the stripes.
One, two, three, four, five... six.
It takes the sound of Jake clearing his throat for you to reluctantly peel your eyes away from this poor man’s crotch.
“Right, babygirl. Ralak here is going to be your teacher from now on.” Jake motions his hand over to the Metkayina, who’s now visibly, and unsuccessfully, trying to appear friendlier.
You couldn’t help but scoff, frustration now bubbling over in your chest once more. “So what? I’m so shit at this that I need a ‘special’ teacher?” you glance over at Ralak and roll your eyes.
“Language!” Jake whispers harshly, giving you that look. The look he gives you when you’re embarrassing him.
“No. I’m tired of this. I want to go home.” you shrug, storming past him just for him to wrap his hand around your upper arm and drag you back.
“That’s enough.” Jake growls, bending over to meet you at eye level. “Tonowari has been kind enough to arrange for Ralak to help you. He was once a fisherman.”
“The best. At about your age.” Tonowari stands proudly as he utters the words, “And now he’s one of the best warriors. I hand selected him myself.”
Your eyes flicker over to Ralak, whose ears lay flat against his skull, brows slightly pinched, jaw clenched. It’s hard to tell what he was feeling, his mask of indifference fixed tightly on his face. Was he grimacing? Or maybe he was trying not to.
Regardless, it looked as if the words upset him. Maybe there was something more beneath this cold exterior. Something that maybe you can pry out of him. Something that intrigued you. The corners of your lips curl upwards, an expression that any outsider would perceive as happiness, but Jake knew you had something else in mind.
Something more mischievous.
“I apologize, sir. I am... just frustrated.” your eyes shift from one giant to the next as you bow before the olo’eyktan. “It would be an honour to have Ralak be my...” you glance over at him, “...karyu [teacher].”
Jake remains silent, pursing his lips as he watches the scene unfold.
“Ah. I understand.” Tonowari smirks, shrugging his shoulder. “It is decided, Ralak will teach you.” he looks at Ralak, giving the order, “Today.”
Jake raises his brows at you, as if he were telling you to behave and not cause any trouble. You tilt your head and subtly stick out just the tip of your tongue. Tonowari walks away, a large hand brushing against Jake’s back to signal him to follow. Jake turns around and joins the larger na’vi, two olo’eyktans now making their way back to the tall mangroves.
“Hey, karyu.” you sing, eyes fluttering as you stare up at the towering man.
He looks down at you for a moment, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. His ears twitch as he swiftly turns around, walking away from you. “Come.”
So that’s what his voice sounds like.
It’s gruff, yet smoky. Deep and husky, thick with... nothing but his Metkayina accent. It was flat and monotone, revealing nothing of his true character. You follow closely behind him, already excited about how you plan to get him to reveal more about himself. He seems to be a man of few words, reserved and... composed. You couldn’t deny that there is a part of you that wants to poke at him, to see how far you can take things with him.
Before you know it, you’re standing in a secluded clearing on the shore, nestled far away where the fishermen tend to hunt. You look around, scanning your surroundings with curious eyes. You see a secluded marui pod, seemingly larger than all the others you’ve seen thus far. It's tightly woven with orange and red sturdy material, secured tightly to the thick mangrove roots around it.
“That yours?” you stick him with your first poke of the day, eager eyes trying to look inside the marui.
His gaze remains fixed on the fishnet that he’s gathering in his hands. “Yes.”
“Pretty big for...” you mumble, shifting your gaze towards him to be met with the sight of him unbuckling his cumberbund. “...just one person.” your voice dwindles in volume, fading out into a breathy whisper.
If your eyes could protrude from your head anymore, they would. You always had a hard time masking how you feel as your facial expressions were quick to give it away. His cumberbund falls into the wet sand, embellished razor sharp akula teeth piercing its surface. Your eyes trail up his body, settling on his bare chest.
“Today, fishing net. Tomorrow, ilu.” he mutters, putting his hair into a loose bun as he ventures further into the water.
“O-kay.” the word comes out broken and awkward.
Venturing out into the water, he settles in the spot he used to go frequently as a fisherman. Waist deep into the water, he looks behind him, chin meeting his chest to land his gaze on you, chest-deep in the water. He realizes that he's gone too far out for you, and walks towards you.
Your beaded top plasters to your chest, revealing your peaked nipples as your breasts bounce with the tide. His eyes quickly avert to the shore, eyelids fluttering a little faster than they should.
“Come.” he walks past you, prompting you to follow him once more. You bounce your way back to the shore until the water is crashing into your stomach. “Watch.” he says, fixing his stance to show you a demonstration.
You watch intently, focus being on the wrong thing, honestly. Your eyes had a hard time looking away from his chiselled body – from each dip and ridge of his muscles on full display. How could you focus? Especially now that he’s barely thigh deep into the water, loincloth clung to his bulge. You swallowed thickly at the sight, was that huge thing really his –
“Erm. Got it?” the sound of him clearing his throat snaps you out of your deep thought.
“Mhm!” you nod quickly, doe eyed and genial smiled.
He nods once, handing you the netting. You take it slowly, buying yourself sometime to figure out how to throw this thing. Standing with your left foot in front of your right, you bend your elbows out, holding the yoke of the net close to your chest.
He grunts in disapproval, settling behind you to fix your stance. He gently kicks your feet apart, putting your dominant foot in front. Large hands grip your tiny waist, shifting your stance slightly to the left. They slip up your sides, and run along the length of your upper arms, stopping at your elbows to tuck them in. He’s so focused on correcting your poor posture that he doesn’t even realize how he’s pressing himself against you.
“Like this.” he huffs, hand enveloping yours to shift it further from the yoke of the cast net. “Hold here.” his other hand grabs the lead line and plunks it into yours.
Heart pounding at a dangerous speed, you take a few deep breaths. Perhaps it was the nerves of casting your first net, or maybe it was just how this gentle giant is pressed against you. Either way, you can’t ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach again.
“Now throw.” he says barely over a whisper, backing away from you.
You twist your upper body, core tensing when you throw the net as hard as you can, only for it to clump together rather than spread out. Your shoulders drop and lips press tight, a wave of disappointment washing over you.
“Again.” he orders, pulling the net towards him.
--
Ralak had you throw the net half a dozen more times before giving you your first break. You prodded and poked at him, trying your best pry personal information out of him – to no avail. He remained unaffected by your persistent jabs, revealing nothing other than how he pined for the days of being a fisherman.
“Karyu. I-I’ll never get it.” you huff in frustration, gathering the fishnet from the surface of the water for a tenth time.
“Again.” he says patiently, unbothered by your frustration.
“Karyu. Please. It is not working. Can’t we try something else?” you beg, arms and back sore from throwing the fishnet so many times.
He looks at you for a moment, taking in the slouch of your back – the strain on your face. He felt bad for you, but he could also see that you were so close to learning the skill.
“No. Again.” he orders monotonously, taking note of your gaze drifting off to the mangroves nearby. “Focus. Eyes on me.”
“How am I supposed to focus when you look so, so –” you cut yourself short with a sigh.
“So, what?” he tilts his head and raises a brow.
You shake your head and roll your eyes, landing them right on that damn tattoo again.
Why was it so low? Didn’t that hurt? Why there of all places?
“Look. I see you –”
The words make your eyes snap up to his, heart thumping wildly in your chest.
“...staring.”
You didn’t realise you were lingering until he pointed it out. How could you not? Surely, he chose that spot for a reason. Perhaps his mate wanted it there, so she could trace the lines with her tongue, all the way down to his –
Am I... jealous right now? I don’t even know this man.
“Who did that tattoo?” you question harshly, green flame of envy igniting in your chest.
“This one?” he chuckles softly, tugging at the hem of his loincloth.
You drop your head, gaze locked on your hands fiddling with the net, hoping to hide the blood that’s rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah. That one.”
“Again. And I tell you.” he pulls the hem back up before crossing his arms over his chest.
Your gaze snaps back up to him, eyes wide with excitement. This is the first time he’d be revealing anything personal about himself. A smile splits your lips as you fix the net in your hands once more, burrowing your feet into the sand. Your eyes narrow on the target – a school of fish off in the near distance.
Twisting your torso, you cast the fishnet, watching it splay out perfectly and trap majority of the fish. You stare in awe, surprised that it even splayed out much less caught some fish. Once it registers, you jump up in glee, quickly turning to your teacher to see his pleased expression and slight nod.
“I did.” he utters, a smirk barely pulling at his lips.
Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you’re perplexed by his two words. “Huh?” you huff, brows pinching together in confusion.
“I did the tattoo.” he says, holding eye contact with you.
“Oh.” your lips pucker at the words, furrowed brows now raising in understanding. Being so surprised by yourself – finally getting something right – you forgot about your little deal.
He breaks eye contact to look over at your perfectly casted fishnet. “If you ride an ilu, maybe I show you the rest of it.” he says through his thick accent, making his way towards the fishnet. “Since you are so... interested.”
“I-I’m not – it, it is just in a – an interesting spot.” you stutter, eyes locked onto your twiddling thumbs.
“Ah.” he gathers the fishnet in his large hands, bundling it together to call it a day. “If you say so... vultsyìp [stick; tree branch]”
“What did you just call me?” your leer snaps up, eyelids squinting at his tensed back muscles that flex and relax as he gathers the net.
A smile pulls at his lips, although you can barely see it from the angle in which he’s facing. It’s contagious, causing your own lips to curl, and soon enough you’re giggling into your hand.
----
Ralak became the light in the darkness, pulling you out of your shell and filling you with the purpose that you once lost. Things came quick to you, thanks to him. He was a great teacher, always patient with you, never showing his agitation – or any other emotion for that matter.
You learned how to hold your breath properly in only a week, due to his persistence and confidence in you. He’d always be quick to praise you after you accomplished something, whether that be with a quick clap, a gentle tap on the back, or – in bigger accomplishments – a hug.
The bond between the two of you strengthened. Overnight. You put a crack in his walls, and bits of his true self began to shine through them. And that was your biggest accomplishment yet. To see a person with the strength of five men turn into a little water puppy in front of you, and you only.
There would be moments where his façade of indifference would drop completely. The moments where he would chuckle a little too loudly, a little too long. Where that shy smile grew wide enough to flash his lengthy canines, and a primal part of you that you tried to supress, desired to know what they felt like sunk into your neck. Clamping down on you while you writhe underneath him, being tamed by his touch.
The moments where you’d tease one another about your differences. His stature in comparison to yours. Pressing your hands together, only for yours to be lost in his palm. And when you pulled away, your fingers intertwined ever so slightly, prickling the skin all over your body. He loved to tease you. Honestly a little too much, poking at your chest with a figurative finger about how you favoured that of a vultsyìp. It’s what got you riled up the most and soon it became your nickname.
Until the day you successfully rode your first ilu.
It was an exhilarating experience, nothing like what you had experienced prior. You glided through the water effortlessly, flowing with the movements of the blubbery creature. When you broke the waters’ surface, Ralak stood proudly in the shallow end, arms crossed over his chest with a smile on his face. It was a rare occurrence – that smile.
And when you laid your eyes on such a sight, the butterflies flew back into your stomach, fluttering and flapping harder than they ever have. They soon became plenty in number, filling your stomach to the brim until you can no longer suppress the way you feel. The flutter in your stomach radiated throughout your body, sending your legs fluttering too. You swam quickly to him, surprising yourself with your speed.
--
“You did it. Like I said.” he smiles smugly.
“Hope you didn’t forget about our deal.” you grin, wringing out the water from your hair.
“You would not let me.” he scoffs, shaking his head as he uncrosses his arms. “Ready?” he asks, cocking a brow while his fingers glide down his stomach, finding purchase under the under the band of his loincloth.
“From the moment I saw it, karyu.” you say, voice feigned with confidence.
He could see through your disguise, though. It only makes him chuckle, to see such a little thing act so big – so dauntless. He tugs his loincloth down, taut strings now sinking into his upper thighs, revealing not only the entirety of his tattoo but also the base of his length.
“H-how did you manage to do that all on your own? Didn’t it hurt?” you ask sheepishly, voice laced with concern.
“Bottle of fermented fruit and a rag to bite. No pain.” he answers, Metkayina accent thick.
You examine it a little closer, leaning in to have a better look. It’s raised, very slightly – invisible to anyone not staring as intently as you are. Most definitely because it’s hand poked, by himself of all people. An innocent thought floods your mind, so loud that you couldn’t stop the movement of your own hand.
How does it feel?
“Can I –” you glance up at him briefly, hand hovering over the tattoo, “Can I touch it?”
His brows and ears shudder for just a few seconds. He quickly regains his composure, swallowing silently before giving you a single nod. Fingertips experimentally graze over the tattoo, taking in its bumpy texture. Your digits trace each line of his tattoo, down to his pelvis. A sudden jerk of his hips causes you to yank your hand back.
“S-sorry, Ralak.” you mumble, feeling a little ashamed that you may have made him uncomfortable.
But in all honesty, your innocent, little touches were arousing him and he didn’t want you to know.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” he states, fixing his loincloth.
You straighten your spine, a foot stepping back to create space that you think he wants, only for him to pull you in for a hug.
“You did well today, vultsyìp.” he mumbles, hands resting on your head and back. “Tsurak [skimwing] next and you will be Metkayina.”
“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” you giggle, warm embrace and snarky commentary ebbing away whatever feelings of doubt tensing your chest.
It’s the way his huge arms engulf you that make you feel so protected and accepted. It’s something you always looked forward to after a big achievement. You lean into him, laying your head on his chest. The smell of sea salt mixed with leather hide wafts up your nose. You take a deep breath, holding it in your lungs until you feel light in the head. Releasing your breath with a loud huff, you smile widely.
It’s so enticing, so addictive.
“You always do that.” he chuckles breathily, swiping back a few strands of hair stuck to your temple.
“’ts not my fault you sea people smell so good.” you mumble into his chest, taking in another deep breath.
“Ah.” he exhales, hand cupping the back of your head. “My hì’i vultsyìp [little stick]” he almost grimaces at his words, it just wasn’t fitting anymore. Not for situations like these. Not when his chest feels so tight.
You lift your head and stare up at him with eyes of innocence. He looks down at you, ocean blue eyes searching yours. You’d never even noticed the little yellow ring around his pupils until now, how they shimmer when the light catches them just right. There’s an unspoken tension, thick in the air – so thick it makes you swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks. Your smile fades, lips parting as your breaths turn hot.
Eyes growing heavy, they almost close in anticipation that he might – just might – kiss you.
“Tanhì.” he mutters, eyes minutely shifting between each freckle on your forehead. He’s counts them, admiring how they embellish your supple, dark blue skin.
Your smile returns like it never left, except it’s wider – brighter. The last ray of sun shines through the sliver of a gap between your silhouettes, averting your attention to the oncoming eclipse.
“Thank you, karyu.” you whisper, reluctantly pulling away from his arms to make the trek back home.
“Tomorrow...” he watches your small figure shrink as you walk away. “...my tanhì.”
--
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