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makoodles · 8 months

Text

ミtìohakx

[tI.o."hak’] P F n. hunger

🍓 pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, tsu'tey pov, misunderstandings, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), reader has nipple piercings, size kink, human x na'vi sex

🍓 wordcount: 18k

masterlist

it's been far too long since i wrote for my grumpy boy, so here were go! tsu'tey is really horny in this one guys lmao i'm sorry

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

There is something wrong with Tsu’tey.

Like, seriously wrong.

This isn’t necessarily a new sentiment to him; he’s been wondering if there’s something fundamentally broken in him for some time now, as if Sylwanin’s death had damaged him more than he could even tell. In the long and painful years following her death, he never so much as glanced at another woman with passing interest. In fact, he had convinced himself that he was no longer capable of experiencing anything even close to romantic or sexual feelings with anyone other than his first love.

Even when he was betrothed to Neytiri, his feelings never developed past fond friendship. Their mating would have been a duty, albeit one he was content enough to perform if it meant that he could serve the clan and maybe, finally, put some of that awful, bone-deep loneliness behind him. But while he loved Neytiri dearly, he could never drum up any real physical attraction beyond the aesthetic appreciation of knowing that she was a beautiful woman.

And that was fine. Tsu’tey never really had a problem with that. He had mostly resigned himself to never experiencing that kind of love again, even if the thought left him hollow on the inside. He’s always been proud to be the kind of man that throws all he has into all into his community and friendships and duties, but he can’t help but wish things were different. It feels a little as though he’s standing stagnant while everyone around him moves on.

The Omaticaya rebuild when the Sky People leave; families are built, bonds are made, and the People move forward. Everyone but Tsu’tey, it feels.

Tsu’tey, instead, finds himself tragically, humiliatingly preoccupied with matters that would surely never have even occurred to him before the war with the Sky People. Well, only one matter, really.

Instead of doing what is expected of him by finding a mate and settling down, like most other men his age in the clan, Tsu’tey finds himself distracted in a way that is completely unbecoming. He goes through his usual motions of hunting, weaving, carving, training, and yet he feels distant from it all, as though his thoughts and attention are elsewhere.

When he’s not carrying out his duties, he’s mortifyingly distracted by just one of the little sky demons that lingers around the village. You.

It would have been unthinkable for him only a few years ago. Even now, Tsu’tey can’t help but wonder if some essential part of him is broken. It’s the only way he can think to explain why you have captured his attention so completely.

There’s nothing special about you. Tsu’tey’s not completely delusional; he can recognise that you’re just a regular Sky Person, nothing impressive. You can’t hunt, you are bad at weaving, and you look odd. You are so tiny and weak, nothing like the willowy and strong women of his clan.

And yet, all of your odd differences are what end up endearing you to him. Tsu’tey has always felt compelled to protect, to serve his clan and defend his people. You’re small and soft, with your strange little face and pretty eyes, and you have no way of defending yourself. Perhaps that was how his fascination with you had started, but it’s since grown into a tentative… friendship, almost.

You visit the village almost every day, to help out where you can or to accompany Norm or even sometimes (and Tsu’tey sometimes has to centre himself to make sure he’s not reading too much into your alien behaviour) just to spend time with him.

“Hey, big guy,” You call out, like you always do, sashaying your way across the village towards him.

Tsu’tey doesn’t look up from where he’s sitting outside his hut, carving a small wooden bowl. It takes quite a bit of effort to look unaffected and casual, especially when his tail had begun to curve around his legs from the moment he had picked up on your sweet scent on the breeze.

“Demon.” He greets back. He chances a quick glance up at you from beneath his eyelashes, hoping you don’t notice.

Then he does a double take, his head snapping up to look at you again as he completely forgets to feign disinterest.

Tsu’tey is used to having you around the village, and he’s used to stifling his embarrassing attraction towards you as best he can. What he’s not used to is the sight of you wearing such tiny little shorts, or such a tight top. The alien fabric is stretched tight across your breasts and so thin that he can see the subtle shape of your nipples beneath the taut fabric.

His stomach does an odd sort of flip, leaving him dizzy.

It's not that he’s shocked by your body – you are still entirely covered (and he tries to quash the disappointment that niggles in the back of his head), and he has seen many female bodies before.

But this is you, and he has never seen so much of you before. The sky demons are confusingly modest and oddly ashamed about their bodies, which means that Tsu’tey has simply had to tackle his odd embarrassing attraction to you with nothing more than his imagination. To see you now like this feels like a physical blow.

Tsu’tey inhales so sharply that he nearly chokes on his own breath. “Tawtute, what—?”

“You said we could go swimming in the river today.” You say, raising the weird little hairy ridges on your brows.

Ah, he thinks, a little dazed. He had said that. It had been a moment of madness, on his part. He had been trying to come up with an excuse to invite you to spend more time with him, and the added incentive of getting to show off some of his skills to you had made him over-eager and excited.

“Mn.” He grunts, his eyes glancing down over the length of your legs, your soft squishy skin all exposed by your tiny shorts. They’re hitched high on your hips, which draws his eyes to your waist and then up again to your breasts, where your top clings to the soft round shape of them.

His eyes follow your hips as you cock them to the side, your hands landing on the curve of your waist. Damn. He… he should really be familiar with the shape of you, by now. You’ve been a near constant presence in the village since the moment you had made the decision to stay behind on Pandora to live in the shoddy human outpost in the nearby forest.

He knows what you look like. But he’s never really seen you in clothes this tight and small before. It’s stupid. Really stupid. He can’t really explain why the sight of your squishy little thighs in those shorts has turned his thoughts into a pathetic buzzing mush of white noise.

You tilt your head, obviously waiting for him to say something. Your eyes are all shiny, looking at him with an expectant smile.

“Yes.” Tsu’tey swallows thickly, forcing himself to his feet. “You wish to swim.”

The thought is a little thrilling. Perhaps he will even be able to catch a few fish in front of you as well. Showing off physical prowess is just one way of impressing a potential mate, and while it’s not initially what he had intended with the offer, the idea of putting on a mating display for you makes excited heat simmer low in his belly.

“Well, you offered.” You remind him, biting at your lower lip under your mask. Your mouth looks all glossy and wet, more so than usual; he wants to touch your lips more than anything.

“Yes. I offered.” He nods, looking down at you as you stand in front of him.

Ah, the height difference is going to his head a little – your face is just level with his belly button, your head tilted all the way back so that you can gaze up at him. His cock twitches at the sight.

“Come.” Tsu’tey says, trying to shake off his distraction before he embarrasses himself.

Just like always, you happily follow after him as he leads the way away out of the village towards the forest. He glances over his shoulder a couple of times, just to make sure that you’re still there.

“I was thinking that after swimming, we could go for a walk,” You say, your little legs working overtime in an attempt to keep up with him. “I’ve been craving that fruit you let me try last time. You know, the one that looks like a blue balloon, but is pink on the inside and really sweet?”

He slows down so that you can keep pace with him more easily, his eyes drawn down to you as you walk. You don’t seem to be wearing your strange little chest covering that usually covers your breasts under your other top, which means that your soft breasts are bouncing lightly with every step you take. Tsu’tey nearly trips over his own feet when he notices, because now it’s like he can’t keep his eyes off you.

The Sky People are demons, a plague on his planet and his people. But you are so bright and sweet, always excited to see him and spend time with him. And your soft body is so different to the Na’vi women he’s used to – you have so much give to you, squishy and bouncy where Na’vi women are firm and lean, especially in places like your thighs and breasts and little tummy. Tsu’tey has never struggled with his self-discipline as much as he does around you.

“Kllpxiwll.” He says, his voice coming out a little less strong than he’d like. “Yes. We can walk later.”

You beam at him, making his tail lash around his ankles. Your cheeks squish up when you smile like that, and his fingers itch with the desire to squeeze at your face.

“Great!” You say brightly, before reaching out to take his hand in yours.

This time, Tsu’tey really does trip. He manages to regain his balance quickly enough that there’s a chance you didn’t notice, but then he looks down at you with wide eyes. Your hand is so small, your little slender fingers curling around his much larger palm, and Tsu’tey swears his heart skips over a beat at the feeling.

Ah, you need his hand for the balance – you hold tight to him as he helps you step over logs and through the long glowing grass between the huge trees. You use your grip on him both as leverage to climb over some of the obstacles before you and to make sure that Tsu’tey keeps his pace slow that you can keep up.

You even glance up at him, your expression uncertain and a little vulnerable, as though you’re unsure how he’s going to react to your touch. He can understand why; he’s never been shy about letting his distaste for your kind known.

But you’re different. He wonders if you know it – you must know, right? It must be obvious to you, how he looks at you with starry, moronic eyes.

He looks away, struggling to keep his expression cool and neutral. He lets you hold his hand but doesn’t squeeze back, nervous about how tiny your hand is in his and how he might hurt you without even meaning to.

After a moment or two you withdraw your hand, biting at your lip as a small frown tugs at your brow.

When the two of you reach the river, Tsu’tey turns to you and waits. He feels as though he’s holding his breath, watching and waiting as his stomach turns flips. He feels antsy and itchy, his fingers twitching as he forces his face to remain as still as possible.

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head as your mouth twitches in amusement. “Is there a reason you’re glaring at me like that, babe?”

Tsu’tey frowns reflexively; you’re always calling him strange little nicknames that he doesn’t understand, and he’s yet to decide whether he likes them or not. He decides to focus on the other part of your sentence.

“I am not glaring.” He protests, though he doesn’t relax his face. This expression mostly comes naturally to him, and he doesn’t really want you to see him open and mushy anyway. “I am—I am looking.”

“Okay,” You drawl, drawing the word out. “Looking at me?”

“No. Get in the water.” He says, and it accidentally comes out sounding like an order.

He’s lucky you’re used to his brash manner and blunt attitude, because you just roll your eyes at him instead of taking offence. That’s part of the reason he finds you so lovely, always so sweet and bright even when he makes a mess of communicating with you. His tail coils, so relieved that he hasn’t messed this up yet with you.

When your small hands reach for the button on your tiny shorts, Tsu’tey can’t help but stare. You push the strange rough blue material down over your thighs, and he takes a steadying breath through his nose as you push them down to your ankles.

It’s the first time he’s seen you so exposed, so vulnerable – so… human. Your body is perfect. Beautiful. Soft and curvier than a Na’vi woman, so much smaller than him. He feels a little guilty about the way he’s looking at you so lecherously, but he can’t seem to stop.

He feels his mouth go dry, but he can't bring himself to look away. He's never seen you like this, and he'd never forgive himself if he missed this opportunity just to look.

You step out of your shorts, left in just that thin white top and tiny bottoms that he has heard you call ‘panties’ before. They are small, more revealing than the loincloths worn by his people, so thin and dainty. They cling to you, and Tsu’tey swears he feels his thoughts dissolve into pure nothingness at the realisation that he can practically see the outline of your—

“You’re coming too, right?”

Tsu’tey blinks, a little dazed. When he speaks, his voices comes out a little too sharp yet again. “What?”

You’re looking at him, your eyebrows raised and scrunched a little as you stare at him. You’re confused, he realises, and it takes a moment to realise that it must look as though he’s been glaring at you yet again.

It’s just... That... is a lot of skin. It feels illicit in a way that he’s not used to, because he doesn’t normally see this much of you. It feels like human modesty is now rotting his brain if this is how he’s reacting to just the sight of your bare legs.

“You good?” You ask, and you sound a little uncertain now. “You look… you look kinda angry.”

Tsu’tey manages a grunt, but he doesn’t trust himself to actually speak. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, and he’s sure his words will just come out clumsy and thick. He glances away from you before picking at the ties of his battle band around his waist, drawing it away from him and settling it aside in the phosphorescent moss. He feels naked without it, though he doesn’t remove his tewng.

“I am not angry.” He says at last, pleased with how steady he sounds.

You just hum, and step away from him towards the water. He watches you go, his gaze trailing over all your soft flesh. This cannot be normal. Human women are not supposed to be this attractive, and Na'vi men are certainly not meant to be attracted to them.

And yet... he can't resist sneaking glances at you whenever the opportunity presents itself. Your bare skin, your soft body, your bouncing breasts, your lips... you’re driving him mad. His twitching cock beneath his loincloth means that there is no chance of pretending he doesn’t know how attracted he is to you.

You step into the water, letting out a breathy noise of surprise at the temperature. “Oh, it’s cold!”

He watches you walk ahead of him into the river, his eyes are drawn to your hips, then your waist, then... he feels his face grow hot. Get a grip, Tsutey. You're being ridiculous.

But... oh Eywa...

Tsu’tey just breathes. He closes his eyes for a moment, just to collect himself. He’s being an idiot. He’s better than this; he is a warrior, a hunter, he has been trained for leadership and has fought alongside Toruk Makto. There is no good reason for a human woman to bring him to his damn knees like this.

You wade in a little deeper, until the running river water gurgles around your thighs. Then a little further, until the current is rippling around the bare skin of your waist. Then you keep going, until you’re submerged up to your neck, and you’re making a scrunched up little face as you hiss through your teeth.

“Shit! How can the water be this cold when it’s so hot out!” You complain again, your nose all wrinkled.

Oh.. you’re just adorable. Tsu’tey feels his fingers twitching again, wanting so badly to touch and squeeze and pinch.

You glance back over at him, and give him an odd little look. “Hey, are you coming? I didn’t come here just to swim by myself!”

Tsu’tey stumbles slightly as he makes his way to the edge of the water. Fuck, he’s just a mess of warring emotions right now. All he seems to be able to do is stare at you with hot, hungry eyes.

He glances away again, unable to keep looking at you any longer. He takes a deep breath and dives into the water, keeping his body straight as an arrow as he spears through the water and surfaces only a few feet from you.

The water is cold, but he finds it refreshing. It shocks some awareness back into him, makes him feel a little more normal and less stunned.

You squeal with laughter as his dive splashes you, throwing your head back as you bob in the water nearby. You paddle a little closer to him, swimming a little deeper until you’re treading water next to him.

“It is cold.” He breathes. It’s the only thing he can think of to say that’s even mildly intelligent, yet it sounds like it falls entirely flat.

But you just giggle as though he’s told a wonderful, highly intelligent joke. His ears twitch, relishing the sound of your laughter.

Tsu'tey swallows thickly, his eyes drawn down to your chest. Your thin white top has turned translucent, and clings to the soft shape of your breasts. Through the thin wet fabric, he can see the prominent shape of your nipples.

“I’ve been looking forward to this swim all day,” You’re saying, blissfully unaware Tsu’tey going through his crisis right at your side. “It’s been hot – honestly, the cold water is a bit of a relief, right?”

“Mngh.” Tsu’tey makes an odd grunting noise, before inhaling sharply and tearing his gaze away from you.

He dips down, allowing the river water to engulf him as it rushes over his head. He half-heartedly hopes he drowns, too, but that thought only lasts a moment before he resurfaces and takes a deep, grounding breath.

He can do this. It’s fine. He enjoys spending time with you, especially when he gets to steal you away from the village and the outpost and gets to enjoy your company away from all the curious eyes of the clan. He likes the feeling of having you all to himself.

He swims with you for a while, enjoying the feeling of the water current running over his skin and stealing looks at you as often as he can without you noticing.

You’re so small and soft, and you look pretty in the glow of the sunlight filtering through the trees that shelter the river. He swallows thickly. It feels like he’s witnessing something he never imagined he’d be allowed to see. Your hips. Your waist. Your soft thighs. Your… everything. Fuck, he wants you.

Eventually, you tire, and paddle your way back to the riverbank. Tsu’tey follows as if he’s been magnetised, orbiting nearby you as you clamber your way back onto the sand. Then you lay out on the bank in the sun to dry off, and Tsu’tey feels his pulse throbs hot and heavy in his throat.

He climbs out after you, his tail swinging low as his eyes trail over your figure. Your wet clothes cling to you, the soft fabric of your panties sticking to your hips and your translucent white top revealing almost everything to him.

He settles next to you, unable to look away from the way your nipples are firm and stiff where they're pressing against the thin top. Then his brow furrows, and he cocks his head.

“Tawtute…” He murmurs before he can think better of it, laying on his side as he looks down at you. “I.. may I ask you a… question?”

“Mhm. Of course.” You say without opening your eyes, enjoying the gentle heat of the sun warming your skin.

Tsu’tey swallows, wonders very briefly if he should keep his thoughts to himself, but his curiosity burns at him. He knows very little about Sky People, and he’s never truly felt any real impulse to learn more. But you’re laying next to him right now, and he finds himself very intrigued indeed about your body and possible… physical differences between you.

“It—Sky People bodies are different to ours,” He says. He attempts to keep his voice steady and as confident as possible, and possibly overcompensates by simply scowling. “It looks—it looks as though you have more nipples than we do. Why is that?”

Your eyes fly open, wide and startled beneath the clear material of your mask, and you stare up at him for a long moment of bewilderment. “I—excuse me?”

Tsu'tey flounders for a moment, thrown off by your tone, heat rushing to his face. "It looks as though—”

You glance down at yourself as he gestures clumsily at your chest, barely covered in your translucent white human fabric. Your expression clears as realisation hits, and then you bite your lip as though you’re trying not to laugh.

“Oh.” You breathe, placing your hand over your breasts. “No, sweetheart. They’re just—they’re just pierced.”

Tsu’tey stares at you uncomprehendingly. “Pierced?”

You nod, and Tsu’tey blinks. The revelation takes him by surprise, though he’s still not entirely certain what you mean by it. Human women pierce their nipples? To him, your breasts are already the most beautiful thing in the world. Why would you want to poke holes through them? What is the thought process behind that?

"Why?" he finally asks, his tone bewildered. "What is the purpose?"

“It’s not.. it’s not that there’s a purpose..” You trail off.

In the ensuing silence you stare at him, as though begging him to understand what you mean, before apparently realising that he isn’t going to. You bite your lip, then glance around as though checking that you’re still alone with him.

“I guess… well, nudity’s not a big deal for Na’vi, right?” You murmur, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your top. “Is it alright if I take this off?”

Nudity certainly isn’t a big deal to his people, not in the way it is for any of the tawtute. The Na’vi are comfortable in their bodies, and so the strange modesty of the Sky People is completely foreign to him. He has seen female breasts every day of his life, the chest coverings worn by the women of his people designed to decorate rather than conceal, and yet he has never in his life been filled with such an all-consuming desire to see a pair of tits before.

“Yes.” He says immediately, keeping his face as cool and unreadable as possible in an attempt at hiding his sheer desperation. “It is no ‘big deal’.”

You hesitate another moment, looking shy and a little embarrassed as you fidget with the hem of your top.

His focus is fully on you now, all his senses trained firmly on the sight of you. The desire to see what lies beneath that flimsy garment is becoming overwhelming.

Let me see, He thinks to himself. Just let me see, and maybe I'll finally be satisfied.

Finally, finally, you tug your top up and off. Tsu’tey inhales so deeply and sharply he nearly chokes on it. His eyes are drawn to your bare chest, transfixed. Your breasts are soft and squishy, perfectly shaped. And for the first time, he sees the small silver bars nestled into your nipples, which are firmed up after the cold of the water. They glitter in the sunlight, capturing his attention and holding it in a vice.

Oh, no, He thinks desperately, feeling a pang of desire deep in his loins. Far from satisfy him, the sight has only made him hunger for more. He wants to touch, especially the odd metal that glitters at your breasts.

“See?” You ask, as if he could have ever missed the sight before him. “My piercings.”

“Mmm.” Tsu’tey manages to get out. His voice is deeper than he had intended, and a little stiff. “I see them.”

You smile, as though you’re waiting for a reaction, but Tsu’tey is a little struck dumb. He watches the light of the sun shining on your wet skin, the way your breasts gently swell and fall with each exhalation of your breath, the subtle gleam of the silver of your piercings. The longer he goes without reacting, the more your expectant smile begins to fade.

“What are they for?” He manages to swallow thickly as he asks.

The question makes you laugh, which isn’t a reaction he had intended but is certainly a sound that he always cherishes.

“They’re not really for anything,” You murmur, reaching up to touch your own breast. “They’re just meant to look good, I guess.”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes restlessly, and he wants so badly to replace your hand with his much larger one; he knows you would look so small beneath his palms. He glances swiftly at your face, and wonders if you would be upset if he touches the little silver bars that decorate your tits.

“This is… this is what is considered attractive to Sky People?” He asks. It comes out in a croak; too much of his energy is being diverted to trying to keep his hands still and to himself.

Your smile begins to fade again, your brow creasing. “Um… sometimes, I guess. You don’t.. uh, you don’t think so?”

That is a loaded question. How is he supposed to answer that when you’re laying on the riverbank beside him with only a thin, wet scrap of fabric covering your most intimate parts? He already feels as though most of the blood in his body had redirected downwards; his cock is pulsing, enough so that he can’t actually think anymore.

All he can do is grunt like a damn talioang. Your face falls further.

“I guess they must seem kinda strange.” You murmur. You must be growing self-conscious, because you start to cover your chest with your arms.

The sight of you trying to cover that perfect view from him sends a bolt of panic through him, and he just stops short of tearing your hands away again.

“You do not have to cover,” He says quickly, before he can think about it. “Like you said, it—nudity means little to us. I do not care.”

“Right.” You say, your voice gone a little bland. “It means nothing to you.”

Tsu’tey knows that your attitude has changed, fallen a little flat. But you’re laying right there, soft and small and squishy, displaying more of your bare flesh than he has ever seen from you, and he can’t pull his thoughts together.

He feels no better than the moronic young warriors that push each other around and whisper nonstop about the women of the clan. He is a skilled warrior, an excellent hunter, and a good provider for the whole clan – he is also experienced with women, so he can’t understand why the sight of you is turning him into a hormonal teenager again.

“Nothing.” He agrees stupidly, still struggling not to be too obvious with his staring.

You purse your lips, but drop your arms all the same. Tsu’tey tries not to goggle.

Oh no, He thinks miserably to himself as he watches the little barbells in your nipples sparkle in the sun. I really am broken.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

Tsu’tey is quite certain that he’s made a fool of himself in front of you.

He’s never been good at expressing himself or his emotions, and his attraction to you scares him as much as it excites him. He alternates between reticence and putting his foot in his mouth, between being unable to meet your gaze and being unable to look away.

He probably looks deranged. He feels deranged.

To make it worse, he knows that his interest in you is obvious to anyone in the clan that watches him interact with you for even a short time. He feels the eyes on him all the time, watching, often looking vaguely sympathetic, which is somehow worse than the horror he had been expecting.

Mercifully no one has said anything to him just yet. At least, no one of any great importance.

“So, you’re telling me that she was laid out next to you, practically naked, just to show off her pierced tits, and you did nothing?” Jakesully demands, his voice like the constant droning buzz of an irritating insect in Tsu’tey’s ear.

Tsu’tey chews sullenly at some roasted teylu, trying and failing to tune his Olo’eyktan out so that he can enjoy his meal.

“Come on, man, seriously.” Jakesully is nudging him now, like an infernal pest. “She took off all her clothes for you, and you didn’t try to—”

“Ma Jake, there are children here.” Neytiri says primly from Jakesully’s other side. She has also been trying her best to ignore her mate, rocking the baby in her lap, but now she sends him a warning glance. The sting of her glare is dulled due to the fact that she’s visibly trying not to laugh.

“Sleeping babies, they got no idea what I’m talking about.” Jake says dismissively, though he adjusts baby Kiri in his arms and leans into his wife’s side all the same.

Tsu’tey shifts where he’s sitting next to him, and allows his gaze to wander across the gathering. He is still waiting to catch sight of you, to see you approaching from across the campfire.

“I’m just saying, man, you’re so obviously into each other that it’s actually painful to watch—”

Tsu’tey grunts irritably. “I am not discussing this.”

“You like her, and she’s all over you!” Jakesully insists. In his arms, Kiri starts to gurgle, and Jake hurriedly raises her up to his shoulder to rub at her little back.

“She is my friend.” Tsu’tey says stubbornly, focusing on his dinner.

Jakesully scoffs. “I’m your friend, but you don’t see me sitting in your lap or holding your hand or getting naked—”

“We are not friends.” Tsu’tey scoffs.

“Ouch,” Jake drawls, rolling his eyes. “Damn, man. I thought we were close.”

Tsu’tey grumbles, scowling into the distance. The irritating thing is, he thinks that he and Jake are close. Admittedly, they still have their rocky moments; Jakesully has earned Tsu’tey’s respect, but he is also an infuriating man and Tsu’tey has always been easy to rile. But… despite their frequent bickering, Tsu’tey has come to trust his judgements.

Tsu’tey purses his lips and picks at the remaining teylu in his small carved bowl. “You… think that she may return my feelings?”

Jake groans, holding the baby with one hand as he covers his face with the other. “You’re killing me here.”

On Jake’s other side, baby Neteyam starts to fuss in Neytiri’s arms. She sighs, pressing a kiss to her son’s chubby cheek before beginning to rock him gently. She’s been listening with as much patience as she’s capable of, though the whole conversation has been punctuated with her eyerolls and scornful hisses.

“Why do you not talk with her, Tsu’tey?” Neytiri asks in a tone that suggests she thinks both men are idiots. “Explain how you feel to her.”

Tsu’tey just gives her a look of disbelief. It’s like she doesn’t know him at all. When has he ever talked about his feelings before? He prefers to just feel things intensely and then shove it all down very deep until it inevitably bursts right out of him.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt like this; not since he was a teenager fumbling his way through his feelings with Sylwanin. It’s especially embarrassing to know that it’s a sky demon that’s eliciting this reaction from him, and that his closest friends are witnesses to his humiliation.

“I am going to sit with the other tsamsiyu,” Tsu’tey sniffs, pushing himself up from the log. “Perhaps they will have some more intelligent conversation.”

Neytiri scoffs, sounding more scornful than offended. “I doubt it.”

“Besides,” Jake adds, grinning at him over Kiri’s little downy-haired head. “Here comes your little bestie.”

Tsu’tey nearly breaks his neck with how quickly he turns his head, and surely enough there you are. You’re stepping across the gathering, smiling politely at one of the old women who says something to you as you pass by her.

He hastily sinks back down beside Jake, ignoring his pointed snickers.

The closer you get, the more details Tsu’tey can see. You’re all neat and clean, still wearing those tiny shorts. But you’re wearing a different top now, this one green like the verdant leaves of the trees that tower overhead, and now he can see that you’re wearing your odd little breast covering under your top. It pushes your soft breasts up and together in a way that’s very enticing, although he is admittedly a little disappointed by the way your strange little decorated nipples are hidden beneath the padding.

“Hey, big guy.” You call out, your voice as cheerful and bright as always.

Tsu’tey’s ears twitch towards you eagerly, his nerves lighting up at the sound of your voice.

“Tawtute—” He begins to greet, but immediately chokes as you reach them and promptly climb right into his lap.

Oh fuck. His every muscle tightens, and all of his thoughts are frozen at the feel of your soft body moulding to his – you’re so small and so squishy, your soft body yielding so easily to the hard muscle of his chest.

He goes to grab at your hips as you nestle yourself into the cradle of his thighs, before panicking and grabbing at his own legs instead. He grips at his thighs harshly, his nails digging into his own skin hard enough to almost draw blood.

“Hello.” He manages to get out, sounding thick and a little stupid.

“Hi.” You reply, smiling up at him as though you think his inability to speak is adorable.

“Jesus Christ.” Jake mutters from off to the side.

Tsu’tey bares his teeth at him from over your head, but Jake is too busy sharing suggestive looks with Neytiri to even notice.

You shift, and he nearly swallows his tongue when your soft bottom settles neatly over his crotch. He panics as he feels blood rush south, and he hurriedly grabs at your hips to shift you from his crotch to his thigh, hoping that you hadn't felt his body respond in arousal.

“I—I have something for you,” He blurts, grabbing for the small carved wooden bowl he had set carefully by his side; he’s just been waiting for you to arrive. “I collected kllpxiwll berries for you earlier.”

Your eyes widen beneath your breathing mask, a pretty smile brightening up your face. “Oh, these are my favourite.”

“Yes, I know.” Tsu’tey says. His hands are still resting on your hips, enjoying how delicate you feel perched in his lap, but he feels a thin thread of panic underlying his delight. You’re so fragile, and he’s so terrified that his big rough hands will hurt you accidentally.

As you settle your bottom back onto his leg again with the bowl in your hands, he does what he does best and shoves his feelings deep, deep down. He will not allow himself to be driven mad by his desire for a human, however soft and warm and pretty you may be.

“Wow,” Jake drawls from his side. “That was really kind of you, Tsu’tey.”

"It is nothing." he replies, his voice coming out rough. "You are my friend."

It makes him want to bite his own tongue off to have you like this against him, but he forces a relaxed grin anyway. He can feel that it comes out strained, because inside he feels like he’s losing his mind. Your closeness is intoxicating, and he cannot stop himself from brushing his free hand against your thigh.

But you’ve tensed in his lap, the little bowl held tight in your lap. Under your mask, you’ve started to frown.

“Your friend.” You repeat blandly.

Jake winces at his side, and Tsu’tey suspects that he’s already put his foot in his mouth. But your soft, plump ass is seated so damn close to his cock beneath his tewng that he just can’t think straight.

“Yes.” He says dumbly. “We are friends.”

You purse your lips and look back down at the bowl of kllpxiwll berries, picking at them distractedly. “Right.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls, uncomfortable with your sudden silence. Are you angry with him? His eyes drop down to the fruit he had gathered for you, his stomach sinking. Is it not to your liking?

“Do you not like the kllpxiwll?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder to try and get a glimpse of your face.

He can vaguely hear Neytiri make a sound of pure derision off to the side, but he’s trying his hardest to block both Jake and Neytiri out.

“It’s nice.” You say, though you don’t sound very enthused.

Tsu’tey frowns, but then you move to get comfortable and your ass nestles itself right over the ridge of his hardened cock and he swears that his vision tunnels and turns entirely dark for a second. He panics, then grabs at your hips out of pure reflex and bodily lifts you off of him.

You yelp, obviously startled, your arms windmilling as Tsu’tey thrusts you at Jake before leaping to his feet. He can see the way Jake is staring at him as though he doesn’t know whether he should laugh or not, and the way that Neytiri looks faintly disbelieving, and the way that you look all ruffled and startled as you look up at him as though waiting for an explanation for why you’ve just been so unceremoniously booted off his lap.

“Sorry, I—” Tsu’tey begins, his throat tight and much too dry as he tries desperately to come up with an excuse that has nothing to do with his dick. “You were too heavy.”

Jake’s face screws up in yet another wince before he buries his face in baby Kiri’s shoulder as though he can’t bear to watch Tsu’tey humiliate himself.

You’re still staring up at him from where he had inadvertently dumped you on the ground, your face the picture of confusion and hurt. “I’m too—what?”

Tsu’tey dithers for a moment, feeling terribly exposed. Why had he stood up? It’s only a matter of time before both you and Jake notice that he’s had a very physical reaction to you sitting perched in his lap. Neytiri has already noticed, though she’s been kind enough to direct her gaze pointedly skywards.

“I will fetch you water.” He blurts, before turning on his heel and positively fleeing.

It’s a coward’s move, leaving you confused on the ground like that, but he feels as though if he doesn’t get away from your smooth skin and pretty smile he’s going to drown.

You’re just a human, he tells himself over and over. You’re not supposed to be that attractive. You’re not supposed to do that to me. That was just me being weak.

Tsu’tey only pauses when he’s on the very edge of the gathering, taking a moment to breathe.

You’ve always been such an affectionate little thing, but his nerves can’t take so much physical contact from you. You have no idea how much restraint he is attempting to exert, how difficult it is not to press his face into your throat and leave his scent behind all over you, or to keep his hands to himself instead of allowing them to wander all over your plush skin.

But he doesn’t want to make a move on you; harbouring these desires for a Sky Person is bad enough, but the possibility of being rejected is even worse. Both because of the humiliation of rejection, and because Tsu’tey doesn’t know what he’ll do if you decide it’s too awkward to be around him anymore. He doesn’t actually know what you want from him. You had laid out almost naked next to him, but you hadn’t made any advances either. He isn’t even sure if you like him or if the Great Mother just has a cruel sense of humour.

Tsu’tey is a little clumsy when he grabs at a waterskin, glancing across the gathering. Even from this distance, he can see the unhappy frown on your face as you speak with Jake, who is visibly trying to appease you. Neytiri has taken both of the babies in her arms, tucking Neteyam into the woven net carrier on her chest so that she can hold Kiri in the crook of her elbow as Jake speaks to you.

Tsu’tey winces a little and glances away again, reluctant to watch the aftermath of his outburst unfold.

A few of the warriors nearby are drinking fermented pasuk liquor, and Tsu’tey wordlessly takes a skin and takes a long gulp of it. His silent drinking earns him a couple of odd looks, but none of them seem willing to comment on it and he’s too busy drinking and trying to ignore the ache in his crotch to explain himself.

“Are you well, Tsu’tey?” One of them finally asks, a little hesitantly.

“Fine.” Tsu’tey says brusquely. His manner does not invite any further questions, and his peers fall obligingly silent. “I am taking this.”

He clutches the skin as he prepares to return to his place at the cookfire beside you, though he pauses to take another drink before he goes anywhere. From this distance, you look a little calmer; you’re listening closely to whatever Jake is saying, nodding with a little frown of concentration.

“Tsu’tey?”

He nearly jumps out of his damn skin. He had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed the soft-footed approach of Saeyla, who has come up on his other side.

“Saeyla.” He greets, his ears pinning back in apprehension.

Saeyla smiles, but doesn’t blink. The effect is unnerving, and gives the impression of a predator watching him. He takes another deep drink from the skin, hoping that perhaps it will help him come up with some way to salvage his pride.

“You look stressed, karyu.” She notes, taking a careful step closer.

Tsu’tey tenses, his brow drawing into his usual scowl. “I am not your karyu anymore. You have passed your iknimaya.”

Saeyla just nods, still smiling a little. The air between them feels uncomfortable, but Tsu’tey wonders if he’s the only one that notices. He still feels rather awkward about how he had rejected Saeyla so harshly that night she had approached him beneath the Tree of Souls. He does not regret rejecting her, but he does feel as though he could have perhaps done so a little more gently than he had.

But while Saeyla has been avoiding him in the months since, it seems that now she is starting to get over some of the hurt he had inadvertently caused. It is a relief to see that she has decided to take a mature approach.

“I was wondering if you could help me,” She says, tilting her head. “One of the beams in my kelku collapsed, and it is too heavy for me to lift by myself.”

From the other side of the gathering, Tsu’tey can see you get to your feet and a bolt of panic shoots through him. Why are you standing? Where are you going? Are you leaving?

“Uh, yes,” Tsu’tey says distractedly, beginning to step away from Saeyla and back towards where he had left you. “I can help.”

“Later? After the gathering?” Saeyla asks, beginning to follow him.

“Yes, yes, later.” Tsu’tey agrees, waving her off before hurriedly leaving her behind.

Walking through the dinner gathering is like attempting an obstacle course, and Tsu’tey is distracted as he tries to avoid stepping on the tails of the gathered clan. Luckily, many seem to sense his urgency, and they sweep their tails close to their bodies as they watch Tsu’tey hurry back over to where he’d left you with Jake and Neytiri.

“Tawtute,” He says when he reaches you again, his ears pinning back. “Your water.”

You look a little surprised at his abrupt return, though you bite your lip and take the waterskin he’s offering all the same. “Oh.. thank you.”

As you pull your mask up and raise the waterskin to your mouth to take a sip, Tsu’tey spares a glance at Jake and Neytiri. Their expressions are about what he had expected; Jake still looks as though he’s trying not to laugh, while Neytiri looks distinctly pitying. Tsu’tey winces, and quickly looks away again.

You’ve only just taken a sip of the water he’s brought you when you choke on it, coughing and spluttering. “Oh— what the fuck—” You gasp, hurriedly fixing your mask back over your face as you heave for breath.

Tsu’tey’s stomach sinks, glancing at the skin that he had handed to you and then at the second one still in his hand.

“Uh—wrong one.” He grunts, snatching the skin of pasuk liquor back out of your hand before handing you the other one that’s filled with water. “… Sorry.”

You’re staring at him with some disbelief now, your eyes watering a little from the strength of the alcohol beneath your exo-mask. “Have you been drinking?”

“No.” Tsu’tey scowls, then amends, “A little.”

You goggle at him with a look of faint astonishment, before you turn to look at Jake. Tsu’tey shifts, feeling rather unfairly jealous, and scowls when he sees you and Jake share a significant look.

“Right.” You say. You sound a little stiff, but you manage to conjure up a sweet smile all the same. “Well. I’m, uh, I’m going to head back to the outpost.”

“Oh.” Tsu’tey says. He hides his disappointment the best that he can, keeping his face still as his tail curls down by ankles.

“But, maybe you could walk me home?” You continue, your eyelashes batting at him.

For the first time, Tsu’tey realises that you look a little different. Your eyelashes are darker and longer, your skin tone smoothed out and even, your cheekbones a little shiny. Your lips look plumper and glossier too, a little redder than their natural tone.

He blinks at you, distracted and a little flustered by your appearance.

“Yes.” He says moronically, hastily passing off the skin full of liquor to Jake, who looks at it in bewilderment.

That makes you brighten, and you reach for his hand hesitantly as though you think he may pull away from you. Tsu’tey watches the way your small fingers intertwine with his much thicker ones, and feels his pupils expand as his tail coils in excitement.

He’s aware of the glances and whispers he’s getting from the rest of the gathered clan, and the irritating eyebrow wiggles he’s getting from Jake, the wolfish yet encouraging grins he’s getting from the warriors that he had taken the alcohol from, but he’s not focusing on any of it. All of his attention is directed towards you as you lead the way towards the forest.

“You look… nice tonight.” He murmurs, low enough that it’s just you that can hear. It comes out awkward, but he means it genuinely.

You glance up at him, and your face relaxes into a smile. You look so damn sweet, clinging to his hand and beaming at him. His heart is thudding hard enough against his chest that he swears it should be visible from the outside, and his own mouth twitches into a hesitant smile in return.

“Yeah?” You ask, your little white teeth gleaming in the remnants of the firelight as you lead the way towards the forest. “I put on a little makeup to come see you.”

Tsu’tey has no idea what that means, but he likes the idea of you doing something specially for him. He feels rather smug as he follows along after you, taking small steps to try to match your pace.

The two of you have only just reached the treeline when Tsu’tey hears a call of his name, and he pauses and glances over his shoulder to see that it’s Saeyla. She’s jogging after him, her ears pricked high in interest.

“Tsu’tey,” She says with a coy smile. “You are still coming to my kelku later?”

You pause at his side, turning to watch her approach. Tsu’tey feels flustered, though he can’t put his finger on why. Your gaze is intense when it comes to rest on the side of his face, waiting for his response.

“Yes, later.” Tsu’tey agrees, eager to be rid of her.

Saeyla smiles, satisfied, her eyes drifting once to you at his side before she turns and saunters away.

Pleased to be alone with you once more, Tsu’tey turns back to you. He can hardly contain his feelings; his ears keep twitching, his tail is coiling and flicking in anticipation, and he can’t tear his eyes away from you. It’s so far from his usual demeanour that it’s embarrassing, but you don’t seem to notice; you’ve never been very good at picking up on Na’vi body language.

You let go of his hand and start walking again faster than Tsu’tey had been expecting, and he jolts into action to try and catch up with you. Your lips are pursed, all glossy and very appealing, and Tsu’tey almost walks into a low-hanging tree bough as he’s staring at you.

His desire for you is simmering at a low boil in his belly, impossible to ignore. It makes him ungainly, clumsy with his limbs and his words, makes him uncharacteristically stupid.

How is he supposed to pursue this? The ways of Sky People confuse him, though he has tried his best to understand you and your ways of thinking. He doesn’t know the customs of human mating, and he doesn’t want to accidentally harm or offend you. Perhaps he would be better off waiting for you to make an advance, but to even think of you making such a move makes him feel so... vulnerable. It's terrifying.

It takes a few moments to realise that he’s been so lost in his own thoughts that he hasn’t noticed the silence that’s settled between the two of you. He clears his throat and increases his pace so that he’s fallen in stride with you.

“You are quiet, tawtute.” He says carefully, questioningly.

He’s not expecting you to scoff, nor shoot him such a bland, unimpressed stare.

“Are you being serious?” You demand.

Tsu’tey blinks. He’s surprised by your sudden change in mood, and wonders if he should be treading carefully now. These sudden attitude changes are bewildering; is this a human thing?

“Yes,” He says slowly. “I am being serious.”

“Unbelievable.” You mutter, promptly speeding up once more.

You don’t get very far – your legs are comically shorter than his, and it takes very little effort to keep up with you.

The outpost is not far from the village, and even with your short legs the two of you arrive at it in no time. To Tsu’tey’s confusion, you march up to the entrance with hardly a second glance at him.

“Tawtute—?” He begins, stepping after you as you ascend the little steps up to the door.

You whirl, startling him into taking a little step back.

“You’re going to Saeyla’s after this?” You demand.

Tsu’tey stares at you, wondering if you’ve gone mad. Why are you asking him this when you had been present for the conversation?

“Yes.” He says slowly. “She asked me to.”

You purse your lips again. “Saeyla, your old student?”

“Yes.” Tsu’tey repeats, beginning to frown.

“Saeyla, who asked you to mate?”

“There is only one Saeyla in the clan.” Tsu’tey points out, a little confused.

Your nostrils flare, and he realises a moment too late that you do not like that answer at all. He flounders for a moment, trying to find a way to salvage the conversation, but he doesn’t fully understand what you’re irritated about.

“She asked for help,” He says, keeping his voice low. “She wishes for help with her kelku.”

“No doubt.” You say archly, your eyes narrowing. “I guess she’s a friend of yours as well.”

Tsu’tey would not have gone so far as to call Saeyla a friend, but he supposes that she had made an extra effort to approach him to mend some of the awkwardness between them. Tsu’tey had always interpreted their relationship as a mentor-student one, so her abrupt confession the night before the clan had gone to war with the Sky People had taken him entirely by surprise.

“In a way.” He says, unsure how to express all of that.

Your funny little alien face seems to tremble for a moment, settling into an odd expression. Not for the first time, Tsu’tey wishes you had proper ears and a tail so that it would be easier for him to tell what you’re thinking.

“Right.” You say, your voice a little dull. “Well, that’s great.”

But then you turn around and march up to the door of the outpost, and it hisses open to let you in. Tsu’tey perks up, frowning. Are you leaving now? You’ve never left without giving him some kind of little hug or squeeze to his hand, or a promise to see him tomorrow.

“Tawtute—” He begins, but you don’t turn around.

“Goodnight, Tsu’tey.”

“I will see you tomorr—” He begins, but the door slides shut with a firm hiss before he can finish.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

It takes most of the day before Tsu’tey realises that something is wrong.

Hardly a day has gone by in the last few months that you haven’t shown up at the village to watch him train and cook, or to entice him out swimming or walking or gathering. While it was once met with annoyance on Tsu’tey’s part, he has come to enjoy your company. He looks forward to your arrival now, his whole body primed and eager as he waits for you to come to the village.

But the following day, you’re nowhere to be seen.

You don’t arrive for the morning meal, and you never come to watch him train. He waits around in the afternoon, trying to look busy as he waits for you to come to the village. When you don’t show up, uneasiness begins to creep in.

He waits for dinnertime, but you don’t come to eat with him either.

He eats in silence, frowning broodily into the fire and casting frequent glances towards the forest as he waits to catch a glimpse of you. He has to deal with sympathetic and questioning glances from Jake and Neytiri all evening, which makes his skin itch. They don’t ask questions, which arguably makes it worse.

Tsu’tey doesn’t even make it to the end of the meal before he stands, making the decision to seek you out instead of waiting around.

“Good luck, man.” Jake mutters rather ominously.

Tsu’tey doesn’t bother with a reply, abandoning his half-eaten food as he marches into the forest. He’s irritated to find that he’s worried. You had been in poor humour the night before, and he’s a little bit anxious about why.

It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that your mood and attitude had changed so drastically after the two of you had crossed the human boundary of nudity. Had he gone too far? Had you been uncomfortable? Perhaps you had realised that he was looking at you in a way that decidedly surpassed friendship, and you didn’t like it.

The outpost is a shoddy eyesore of human architecture, and it makes Tsu’tey’s nose wrinkle everytime he sees it. Despite all the time he’s spent with you, he rarely visits the outpost itself, but needs must.

It takes a frustratingly long moment for him to work out the mechanism of the door, and then he has to stand there with his tail whipping around impatiently as the door compresses shut and the atmosphere is forcibly converted to air that’s breathable for humans. When the second door opens up to allow him into the outpost itself, he muscles his way in and takes one of the stupid little masks to loop around his neck so that he can take infrequent sips of air.

The outpost is cluttered with demon technology and strange furniture, and Tsu’tey picks his way around the metal floor with his nose wrinkled. He dislikes the way it feels against his bare feet.

The first person that sees him is Norm, who’s sitting at one of the messy desks with his head in his hands. It’s rare to see him in his human form, his odd dreamwalker body tucked away for the night, but Tsu’tey grunts a greeting out nonetheless.

Norm doesn’t react the way he had expected. He jerks to his feet, eyes widening at the sight of him, and he blurts, “Oh, thank god. You’re here to apologise, right?”

That gives Tsu’tey pause, and he stares at Norm in some bewilderment. “Apologise?”

Norm doesn’t appear to hear him, too busy glancing over his shoulder towards the back of the outpost as he scurries a little closer.

“Man, she’s been upset all day.” Norm keeps his voice low, as though he’s worried you’ll hear. “Just—go in there and talk to her.”

Tsu’tey frowns, but he’s already drifting towards the back of the outpost. The shoddy building is split into several sections; one for working, one for recreation, one for sleeping. There’s probably more, but Tsu’tey has never bothered looking too closely at it. All he knows is that Norm has gestured to the back of the building, towards the sleeping area.

“She is resting?” He asks, keeping his voice low to match Norm’s.

Norm scoffs. “Uh, no, I wish. She got some of that fruit wine you guys drink at celebrations. She’s a little bit… uh…”

Ah. You have been drinking. Tsu’tey feels curiosity bubble up in his chest; he’s never seen you drunk before. In this moment, he wants to see nothing more.

“I will speak with her.” He murmurs, before leaving Norm behind in favour of ducking into the back section of the outpost.

The building is rickety and mostly partitioned with fabric curtains rather than the doors that the Sky People tend to favour. As such, Tsu’tey can hear the way Norm is shooing whatever other demons are left over out of the building, presumably to give him some privacy with you.

He finds you laid out in a bed near the back, floppy-limbed and sloe-eyed as you speak with another sky demon. You’re talking with your hands, clearly feeling very passionate about whatever the subject you’re discussing is.

Tsu’tey lets his eyes wander over you, enjoying the brief moment he has before you realise he’s there. You’re wearing thin white fabric shorts covered in some sort of blue pattern, and a small little top that only reaches your midriff. You look so comfy, so warm and soft in your cosy little bed as you drink Omaticayan fruit wine and complain to your friend. Tsu’tey feels a buzzing start up in his belly and the tips of his fingers; he wants to touch you so badly it hurts.

The other sky demon spots him first, her eyes widening at the sight of him as she leaps off the bed. It takes a beat longer for you to spot him, but then you’re scrambling to your feet as well.

“Tsu’tey—” You start, almost spilling the fruit wine in your hand all over your bed. “What are you—”

“You did not come to the village today.” He says before you can finish, stepping closer to your bed.

The ceilings in the outpost are high to accommodate the bodies of the dreamwalkers, so he towers over you as kneel up on your bed, frowning up at him. He feels his cock twitch; he knows he’s bigger than you, obviously, but the size difference between you feels so stark now that he’s looking at you all curled up in your bed, rumpled and a little disheveled from the wine.

“I’ll—I’ll see you later!” Your friend blurts, before turning and rushing out.

Satisfied now that he is alone with you, Tsu’tey allows himself to sink to his knees by your bedside. Even on his knees, he is slightly taller than you in your bed.

You look a little flustered, clutching your cup of wine to your chest as you blink at him with wide eyes. It draws his eyes to your breasts, and with a little thrill of delight he sees that the fabric is sheer enough for him to get a good look at the outline of your nipples all firmed up beneath your clothes.

He so rarely sees you without the mask, and he can’t help but notice how sweet your little face looks without the clear barrier. Your eyes are all glossy and a little hazy from the wine, and you’re looking up at him as though you can’t quite believe he’s there.

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly. The moment feels so delicate, as though he might inadvertently shatter it with a raised voice, so he keeps his voice low and even as he reaches out to stroke over your squishy cheek with a single finger.

To his surprise, you jerk away from him, once again almost sloshing the wine all over yourself. You roll off the bed, holding your cup high, until you’re on your feet in front of him.

“Yes!” You say, and your voice comes out high-pitched and a bit shaky. “Fine, I’m fine. Why are you here?”

For a moment, Tsu’tey just stares at you. You’ve never pulled away from his touches. It’s always been him that’s been jittery around you, nervous in case he hurts you or pushes too far. But now you’re wobbling away from him and avoiding his gaze, and that makes something that feels a lot like panic settle into his bones.

“You are upset.” Tsu’tey notes, shuffling a little closer to you on his knees as you retreat.

“No, no, everything is fine,” You’re insisting, visibly unsteady on your feet as you totter around. “I don’t know why you’re here.”

It shouldn’t be cute, but Tsu’tey is coming to admit to himself that he finds everything about you unnervingly endearing. He watches as you struggle to straighten out your rumpled little clothes, admiring the way the thin fabric clings to you. You look embarrassed and a little self-conscious, as though he’s caught you out.

“I was waiting for you,” He murmurs, reaching for you again. He keeps his hands slow, as though approaching a wounded nantang. You’re such a jittery little thing, but you don’t pull away this time, allowing him to place a hand carefully on your hip. “You did not come to see me today.”

“I figured you’d be busy.” You say, your tone snippy and a bit bratty. “Thought you’d go and hang out with Saeyla today.”

Tsu’tey stares at you. What does Saeyla have to do with this? Is this why you are so upset?

“Syulang,” He murmurs, foregoing his usual nickname for you for a much softer one. “You always have much to say. Please talk to me. I am not understanding why you are angry with me.”

For a moment, he thinks that you aren’t going to speak to him at all. But then you grip your little cup of wine and raise it to your lips, drinking one deep gulp before looking at him in the eye with fiery determination.

“I’m embarrassed,” You snap. “I’ve been basically throwing myself at you for months now, so excuse me if my ego is a little bit bruised. The least you could have done would be to let me down gently instead of letting me embarrass myself in front of everyone—”

Tsu’tey goggles at you, hardly able to believe what you’re saying. “Tawtute—”

“No,” You interrupt sharply, pointing your finger towards him. “Don’t. You said I could talk now.”

Tsu'tey falls obediently silent. His tail curls around his thigh; he’s a little surprised by the way he physically reacts to your sharp tone. He’s never heard you sound so firm before.

“I’ve been—I’ve been wearing all that silly makeup, and wearing all those skimpy tight clothes because I thought you’d look at me more!” You continue, your voice trembling a little. “I’ve been following you around like a pathetic puppy, and sitting in your lap at dinnertime, and holding your hand, and—and—”

You’ve been hoping for him to look at you more? Couldn’t you tell that all he ever did was look at you?

“And then you just tell me that I’m not attractive, and you toss me out of your lap, and tell me that we’re just friends, and you tell me right to my face that you’re going off to sleep with your ex-girlfriend—”

Tsu’tey sputters so hard at that that he nearly spits, horrified.

“I never—” He starts, his eyes wide as his tail curls under his legs, his ears pinning back.

“You did!” You burst out, teary-eyed. “When I was practically naked in front of you, I waited for you to say something, to give any sort of indication that you might like what you were seeing, but you just glared at me and said nothing at all!”

Ah. Tsu’tey has never hated his resting scowl as much as he does in this moment.

“And then yesterday! You said we’re just friends, then you threw me off your lap, and then you said you were going to Saeyla’s kelku right after walking me home—” You continue, beginning to really work yourself up.

“No!” Tsu’tey blurts, reaching out and grabbing at your hand. His blue palm engulfs your much smaller one, and he holds it as delicately as he can. “No, you have misunderstood, syulang.”

“God, I don’t even know why I like you,” You sniffle. “You’re so rude.”

“But you do,” Tsu’tey murmurs, his eyes still wide at the sheer novelty of it. “You like me. You cannot take it back now.”

“Oh, you’re such a dick,” You hiss, yanking your hand out of his. “Did you come here just to rub this in my face—”

“I threw you out of my lap because you were sitting on my cock and I didn’t want you to notice how hard you made me.” The words escape Tsu’tey’s mouth before he can think about it, but you finally fall silent.

You look a little stunned, actually, and Tsu’tey figures that he’d better start talking quickly before you come back to yourself and remember that you’re angry with him.

He pulls your cup out of your hand and raises it to his mouth, draining the wine in it himself in an effort to cultivate some liquid bravery. The taste bursts sharp and syrupy across his tongue. Of course, he thinks as he licks a dark drop from his lip, you would favour the cloying sweet wine. It suits you.

“Syulang, pretty girl, I do not like when you are upset.” He murmurs, shuffling closer on his knees. You don’t pull away, watching him come and allowing him to rest his hands on your hips. “Please listen.”

You’re still gaping at him, clearly a little thrown off by him stealing your wine from you. He takes advantage of your momentary silence by launching into his explanation. He hardly knows where to begin, but he decides to start with the most heinous accusation.

“I have never been intimate with Saeyla,” He murmurs, his thumbs stroking over your hips. “Never, tawtute. I have not been intimate with anyone in a very long time.”

Your throat bobs a little nervously, but you don’t interrupt.

“I have been taken with you for many, many months now,” He admits, and his ears flatten a little in embarrassment. He is not used to discussing his feelings, and it feels unnervingly vulnerable. “I know that I am grumpy, and rude, and I do not always express myself well. I have never been good at talking, and I can be too arrogant for my own good—”

You breathe out a shaky laugh and sway a step closer, as though you’re hardly aware what you’re doing. Tsu’tey’s grip tightens carefully on your hips, his breath catching in his chest as he urges you closer yet again.

“I have been so full of desire that it has been difficult to think,” He confesses in a low whisper. “It has been humiliating. I had thought— I did not want to scare you—”

He never gets a chance to finish his explanation. He’s partway through his sentence when you launch yourself into his arms, and he cuts himself off in favour of wrapping his arms around you to stop you from bowling the two of you over.

You start kissing his face all over, peppering eager little butterfly kisses all over the tanhì across his forehead and cheeks and all over his flat nose. He can’t help the delighted rumble that’s ripped out of his chest at the display of affection, and he tries to follow your lips with his face when you start to pull away.

“You’re so stupid,” You whisper, and Tsu’tey is so pleased that you’re smiling again that he doesn’t even feel offended about that. “I’ve been jumping in your lap and holding your hand every chance I’ve gotten. I took my clothes off and sunbathed practically naked with you, and showed you my tits—”

“I thought we were being friends.” He says thickly, leaning forward again in the hopes that you’ll give him another kiss. Even on his knees in front of you as you stand, he is so much larger and bulkier than you; it makes him want to tuck you away and keep you safe forever.

You groan, tilting your head back as though you’re in pain. “Tsu’tey. You’re killing me here.”

He can’t resist the temptation of your head tilted back with your throat bared, and leans forward to press his face into the crook of your neck. He rubs his cheek against your pulse point, feeling satisfaction bloom in his stomach as his scent is spread all over the vulnerable skin of your throat.

“I am sorry, syulang,” He murmurs, his lips brushing over your pulse. He feels you shudder against him, and clutches you tighter. “I thought it was obvious how I felt. The whole clan knows. Do you not see how they watch us?”

The laugh that leaves your mouth is a little thready, and your hands come to rest on Tsu’tey’s shoulders for balance as he nuzzles into your shoulder.

“I thought they were looking at me,” You whispered. “Because I was so obvious about how I liked you.”

Tsu’tey shakes his head, trying to hide the silly grin on his face into your soft shoulder. You like him. All of those months of ridiculous pining and yearning and humiliating stifled desire, only to find out that you desired him too.

“So…” You whisper, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “So, you did like my piercings, then?”

Tsu’tey groans, his fingers spreading wide over your back as he pulls you closer. You’re so much smaller than him that his hand spans almost the whole width of your back, and his heartrate picks up as he feels your soft body press into him.

“Yes,” He murmurs, his ears pinning back in muted shame at the admission. “I liked them.”

The smile that breaks over your face at that is almost blinding, and he’s surprised by your enthusiasm when you grab at his jaw and haul his face closer so that you can capture his lips with your own.

The fact that he’s kissing you nearly stalls his brain, but then he feels the softness of your lips and the wet heat of your tongue, and it feels as though his nerves are set alight. He grunts, using the hand on your back to hold you close against him as he kisses you back eagerly.

He’s trying to be as cautious as possible, worried about hurting you, but you don’t seem to share his concern. In fact, your fervor surprises him. You push at his shoulders, and though you’re not strong enough to shift him he follows your unspoken order anyway, until you’ve guided him all the way back to your bed.

He gasps, his vision going a little blurry as you begin trailing kisses along his jaw. He grabs at the mask to take a few clumsy breaths of air, his body hot and tense as you kiss him.

“Bed,” You breathe, pushing at his shoulders. “Get on the bed.”

“Tawtute,” He says, swallowing thickly. “Should we— do you wish to take this slow?”

You pause then, pulling back a little so that you can level him with a look. He’s always found your strange little face difficult to read, but even he can tell that you look decidedly unimpressed right now.

“You think I want to take this slow?” You repeat, nose crinkling. But then your expression grows a little unsure, and you start to pull away. “Oh. Do you want to take this slow?”

“No.” Tsu’tey says, far too quickly.

The two of you just look at each for a moment, blinking. Then Tsu’tey stands, his knees slightly wobbly after kneeling before you for so long, and sinks down onto your bed. It’s a tight fit, the bulk of his body hunching forward slightly as his knees bunch up, but his slight discomfort is forgotten immediately when you climb up into his lap.

Over the last few months, you have sat in his lap many times. This time is different – this time, you’re straddling his crotch, your lovely thighs bracketing his hips as your soft bottom rests over his cock. You’re still kissing him, your soft lips trailing all over his jawline then up to his mouth again, swallowing the appreciative grunts that pour from his mouth.

When he had imagined this, often late at night with his cock in his hand, he had pictured you soft and eager and sweet – and you are all of those things, but nothing could ever have prepared him for how hungry you are, how impatient and greedy you are as you push him back onto your bed and follow him down. Your bodies are pressed so tight together that there’s hardly an inch of air, yet you seem determined to wriggle even closer.

Tsu’tey moans quietly, leaning back among your threadbare pillows as you do your best to devour him. Your mouth is small, but you happily open it wide as you lick into his mouth, your little tongue tracing over his sharp canines in a way that makes him shiver.

“Can’t believe we had this conversation when I’m in my fucking pajamas,” You murmur into his mouth, pressing your soft fabric-covered tits against his wide chest. “I wanted to be wearing something sexy for this.”

All he can do is close his eyes against the onslaught of your lips and teeth on the exposed skin of his neck. Your small hands smooth over the planes of his chest, hot and possessive as they crawl over the front of his body.

“You are very beautiful, syulang.” Tsu’tey breathes, his hands finding a firm hold on your waist as your weight settles over him.

Then you grind down, and he’s already so aroused but now he can feel the heat of your pussy through those tiny damn shorts of yours and the noise that’s torn from his chest is completely undignified.

He grabs at you. It’s rough and presumptuous and honestly Tsu’tey isn’t even sure it’s a conscious decision, but before he knows it he’s grabbed you by the waist and is pulling you down to grind against his cock.

“Fuck,” You gasp, and Tsu’tey nearly loses it. “Oh god.”

You shuffle back a little, and Tsu’tey nearly audibly whines when he loses that glorious friction over his cock. But it turns out that you’ve only moved so that you have access to his loincloth, which you promptly begin to pull at.

“Mawey, yawntutsyìp.” He croaks out, though he’s already flexing his hips to help you pull his tewng off.

“Been wanting this for ages, you have no idea—”

Tsu’tey swears his head is spinning at the sheer irony of that, because he could have been experiencing this for ages?

His cock is freed from his tewng, slapping against his stomach with an embarrassingly loud smack. When you see how big he is, your eyes widen, and Tsu’tey has a horrible moment of panic where he worries that you’re going to change your mind. He would only be able to accept that choice, but he already knows that it will leave him with the worst case of blue balls he’d ever experienced.

But you don’t let his no doubt intimidating size stop you from reaching out with your small hands to stroke him. A guttural growl is pulled from him, and he tilts his head back against your soft bedding and bites hard at his lip in an effort to control himself as you stroke at him.

“Oh, fuck yes.” You breathe, your expression nothing short of delighted as you stare down at him. He feels vulnerable under your gaze, naked in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve pulled his tewng off him.

He reaches out, tugs at your top. “I wish to see you, again.”

That makes you smile. The little fabric top you’re wearing is so thin that he can see the outline of your breasts and little nipples already, and as you lean forward to tug at his cock it gapes open at the chest to give him a tantalising glimpse of your bare flesh, but it’s not enough. He wants to see you bare and wanting beneath him. Or on top of him. He’s not fussy.

When you pull your flimsy little fabric covering off, Tsu’tey feels as though he goes momentarily light-headed as his blood rushes south. He’s seen you like this before, that day at the river, but this is different. This time, he’s allowed to touch.

You’re as soft as he’d imagined – softer, even. Tsu’tey’s hands are eager, reaching up to grope and feel, and you tilt your head back and moan softly as he kneads at your delightfully squishy breasts. He just can’t get over how perfect and pliable you are, your supple skin moulding and giving around his hands. He’s never experienced anyone as soft as you; the Na’vi are bigger than the Sky People, and stronger too. His people do not have the same shape, are not soft in the same places as humans. And he’s never thought too much about it, but now he feels like he’s losing himself in your supple flesh.

And then there’s the delicate little barbells in your nipples. Tsu’tey stares, wanting so badly to touch but nervous about going too hard or fast and accidentally hurting you.

“Remember I said they were just to look good?” You breathe, pressing forward a little to encourage his hands to roam over your tits.

“Mm.” Tsu’tey grunts mindlessly. He does recall something of the sort, but he doesn’t think it is fair that you expect him to think when he has your tits in his hands like this, one hand almost spanning your entire chest.

“I lied,” You whisper, your lips curving up in a smile so cheeky that it makes Tsu’tey’s toes curl. “They feel good, too.”

Tsu’tey groans, running his fingers slowly across your skin before finally touching the piercings, his touch smooth and warm.

A low moan of contentment escapes him. "Soft skin. Pretty piercings."

His hands cup your breasts as his thumbs brush over your nipples. You were telling the truth about them; the piercings make you sensitive, and when you shiver under his hands, his gaze darkens.

"I want them in my mouth." He says suddenly, his voice rough and gravelly. His thumbs swipe over them yet again, and he looks up eagerly to you to wait for your permission as you sigh.

You laugh, though it's a breathless and weak sort of a thing. You’re trying to play it cool and casual, but Tsu’tey is holding your soft little breasts in his hands – he can feel your rapid heartbeat against his palm. "Go on, then."

He doesn't waste any time before he's bending his head and pressing harsh, biting kisses all along your chest. Then, getting sick of bending his neck down, he grabs at the flesh of your ass and hauls you up into his arms so that he can mouth at your nipples in earnest.

He licks over your left breast, feeling the little metal barbell against his tongue. It must feel good because you whine, arching your back and pushing your tits into his face even more. Your skin is so soft and sensitive, and it makes his rough tongue and big hands feel clumsy and coarse.

He wraps his lips around your nipple and suckles at it, his tongue playing with the strange little balls at the end of the bars. The metal is cool against his tongue, offering a pleasant contrast to your heated flesh.

“Ungh, shit,” You gasp, your little hands winding into his braids and gripping him there. “Tsu’tey… I wanna suck your cock.”

Tsu’tey freezes, his eyes going wide. Those words rock through him like a physical punch, and he groans as his cock visibly twitches against his stomach. He knows you can feel it, considering you’re still straddling him, and you begin to wiggle your way back as you try to get your face down to his crotch.

But as soon as you get your little hand on his cock, panic shoots through him. It feels good, so good, but he’s sure if you actually put it in your mouth he’ll die. He already knows that if you get your mouth on him everything will be over far too quickly, and he’s not ready to tap out just yet.

He grabs you and rolls, until you’re on your back staring up at him with a surprised little pout.

“I want that, tawtute,” He admits, his voice coming out in a gravelly rumble as he presses a careful kiss to your pouting lips. “But later.”

“But—”

He doesn’t let you finish. He’s too busy kissing your strange, alien little face, then down over your throat. You’re so addictive already. He wants to fuck you and have the whole clan listen, he wants to suck on your tits and have you crying, he wants to play with your clit until it’s puffy and swollen, he wants to play with your cute little hole, he wants to see you bouncing on his cock, on your hands and knees… He feels like he’s been set alight with desire, like the blood in his veins has turned molten.

His fingers hook into your little shorts and pull at them, and you lift your hips to help him tug them off. To his delight, you’re not wearing your tiny little fabric covering under them, and his tail whips in excitement at the sight of you bare beneath him.

“Oh,” He breathes, shuffling himself down your bed. It’s a narrow fit, and cramped, but Tsu’tey doesn’t care; his attention is fixed on you and the way your legs are spreading to accommodate the bulk of his body.

He takes in the sight of you eagerly, bare and glistening wet, and grinding against nothing, and he realises in that moment that his imagination could never have lived up to reality.

“I’m going to take care of you,” He mumbles mindlessly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your lovely plush inner thigh. “Going to make you feel so good, syulang.”

“Okay.” You sigh, the word coming out a little wobbly.

Tsu’tey’s tail whips from side-to-side as he gazes at your bare cunt, still hardly able to believe that you’re giving him access to you like this, that you like him too. It feels too good to be true, but Tsu’tey is not about to let this opportunity to pass him by.

“So pretty, yawntutsyìp.” He kisses his words flatly against your puffy lips before coaxing them open with his flat nose. His face is covered in you already, glistening across his lips and chin. But it’s not enough, it won’t be enough until he’s drowning in you.

You taste tangy and sweet, a heady mix of sweat and pheromones that pulls him in ever closer, desperate to drink his fill of you.

But even better than how you taste, is how you react.

You’re up on him so fast he barely has time to blink – no sooner has he laid his lips on your pussy, his mouth so big that it almost swallows you whole, than your hips are bucking up into his face. All he can smell and taste is you, and you’re so fucking wet and suddenly you’re rutting up against his face, not even caring if Tsu’tey’s mouth is open or not, as though you’re so desperate for him that all you can do is use him.

It’s the best day of Tsu’tey’s life. He’s going to mark this day and religiously celebrate it every year.

“Tsu’tey –!” You gasp, rutting your hips into his face. A wild, somewhat unhinged part of him hopes you break his nose. He uses his tongue against your clit and lets you rub yourself all over him, making his brain feel so blissfully empty.

He just moans into you, his hands wrapping around your plush hips and gripping at your squishy little bottom for leverage as he pulls you back against his face. He suckles at you so eagerly, tongue laving over your hole, over and over and over, delighting in the way you gasp and moan and grind into his mouth.

His tail coils as his arousal pulses, forgetting himself as his fingers clench into your soft skin. You sigh, and drop your head back against the pillows as you move your hips to push your pussy back against his tongue. When he spears his tongue into you, you whine, but the sound is muffled somehow—

You’ve bitten your pillow, Tsu’tey realises, and groans. He wants so badly to get his hands on himself, to stroke and tug at his cock as he devours you, but he can’t bring himself to let go of you. He feels as though he’ll die if he lets go of your squishy ass, and his fingers knead insistently at it as he dines on your cunt.

He fucks his tongue into you harder, mouth open and jaw aching in the most satisfying way. It’s all worth it when Tsu’tey realises that you’re crying, just softly, your moans and whines wet, your breaths choked.

Tsu’tey’s fingers find their way to rest against your pussy, pushing in gently when he’s satisfied with how well his tongue worked you open. Once the digits are wet, he pushes two in to the first knuckle. He groans at the feeling of how welcoming your pussy is, how responsive you are to his touch. You cry out, your thighs twitching as he stretches you out.

Your whimpering makes him feel bold, his cock weeping against his thigh. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, the frustrating ache in his balls is poured right into the quickening pace of his fingers. He wants you to break— to crumble into pieces just so he can put you back together.

“Tsu’tey,” You slur out, your fingers gripping at his braids as you writhe under his attention. “Need to slow down, or I’m gonna—I’m gonna come—”

Your words fall on deaf ears; Tsu’tey is practically hypnotised by your little whimpers and cries as he sucks and licks eagerly at your squishy wet pussy, his fingers twisting and rubbing all along your hot, clutching insides. He feels desperate to experience you come against his tongue, and his movements take on an edge of fervor as he opens his mouth wide to suck your whole cunt into his mouth.

You squeal, hips bucking, and your feet kick out until they’ve landed on his shoulders. Tsu’tey moans, pleased by your reaction, and his mouth seals firmly around you as his tongue laps at your clit.

Your thighs suddenly clench around his head, keeping it in place, and he increases his pace, keeping it rhythmic for you. He buries his nose into your little swollen clit, letting out a hungry little noise as he sucks at you.

And then you’re gasping, the line of your body going taut and stiff as your orgasm rolls through you. Tsu’tey doesn’t relent, sucking and licking at you as you tremble and shake apart. Your release tastes so sweet, like hot syrup on his tongue, and he can’t get enough of you. Your thighs grip his head so hard that the muscles tremble, and he relishes the pressure of your legs squeezing around his skull.

It doesn’t take long before your legs are kicking again, wheezing as you grow oversensitive and push at his head. With great reluctance, Tsu’tey pulls his mouth away with a wet ‘pop’, licking his lips before leaning in to suckle a series of biting kisses around your inner thighs.

He feels a little light-headed, still so hungry. He knows his eyes are heavy-lidded with his own arousal, his whole body throbbing with the need to take you, but he’s trying so damn hard to control himself.

“Oh god… fuck.” You breathe, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

That certainly strokes Tsu’tey’s male pride, and he looks up at you with a pleased, if slightly dazed, smile. He’s breathing heavily still from having devoted his entire attention to pleasing you and forgetting to breathe, and it takes a moment for him to realise he needs to sip from the stupid mask. He fumbles for a moment, grabbing at it and taking several deep breaths before dropping it again and leaning up to kiss at your cute little lower belly.

“It was good?” He asks. Judging by the look on your face he knows the answer, but he can’t help but want to hear it straight from your mouth.

You laugh, a little disbelievingly, then place a hand onto his chest and push lightly at him until he’s rolling over onto his back. You follow, swinging your leg over his hips and settling down so that your spit-slick pussy is nestled right up against his hard cock.

“So good,” You whisper, and it practically comes out like a purr. “So fucking good.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls and his ears fold back, his stomach swooping in anticipation at the coy tone of your voice. His cock twitches too, very interested in the way you’re sitting on it. When you rock your hips lightly, allowing your slick pussy to glide along his length, he groans breathily before reaching to grab at your waist, trying to hold you still.

“Wait, syulang.” He says, his voice coming out embarrassingly hoarse. “You are so small, I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s not expecting you to laugh at that, as though he’s said something that you find adorable. You lean in and kiss him, your lips soft against his hot, swollen ones.

“You’re not the first Na’vi I’ve had,” You whisper against his mouth, giving him yet another sweet kiss. “I know what I’m doing.”

He bristles at the thought of another Na’vi hunching over your little body, rutting into your hot wet softness. His hands tighten around your waist as a bolt of possessive jealousy flashes through him.

“Who?” He demands, his face scrunching up in a scowl.

You just giggle, leaning down to kiss the wide bridge of his nose. Tsu’tey’s ears fold down, a little mollified by how cute you are, though his scowl doesn’t lessen much. Your hand runs over his chest, your fingers stroking over his heated skin.

“Oh, shush.” You say with a fond smile, as though you think he’s joking. “What, did you expect me live like a nun while you were ignoring me all that time? I didn’t even think you liked me.”

Tsu’tey doesn’t know what a nun is, but he’s distracted before he can ask. You lean down slowly, running the tip of your tongue along his throat. You pause to bite him gently right where his vein pulses, and the rush of sensations from your touch nearly sends him spiraling.

“Besides,” You whisper, “I feel like you just sucked my soul out through my pussy, so I really don’t think anyone else is ever going to compare.”

The purr that your words pull out of him at that is embarrassing, but his body reacts before his brain does. Yes, he thinks smugly, I am better. It feels incredibly important to him that you know he is the best option, the man that can please you best.

Tsu’tey feels like he’s melting under you. The heat of your bare slick cunt against the length of his cock is fanning a fire in his blood. He bites at his lip as he feels your lips on his pulse, harder now, kissing softly, tongue flicking against the skin.

Your hand slides lower, and then finally your hand wraps around the base of his cock. He groans, bucks up, but didn’t mean to. Thankfully you just laugh, obviously amused as you’re lifted up by the momentum of his hips.

“Tsu’tey, baby,” You whisper, and oh, your voice is going to drive him insane. “Does it hurt, being this hard?”

Tsu’tey openly chokes, and you give him one slow stroke. The feeling of your small soft hand against him has his mind blanking entirely for a second. You pause to rub your thumb under his cockhead, against the bundle of nerves there, and Tsu’tey moans as his eyes flutter shut.

“Pretty boy,” You whisper, and Tsu’tey gasps, feeling his lip quiver. He cracks his eyes open, just to see you smiling down at him. “Do you like when I call you pretty?”

Tsu’tey looks away and says nothing – but you just giggle.

“You’re pouting, Tsu’tey.”

“I am not.” He grumbles, though his cheeks are uncomfortably warm.

Your hands move, one stroking around his cock, the other cradling his balls. Tsu’tey arches, pushes into your hand as you twist your fist around his glans. His mouth falls open, a breathy moan escaping, and you visibly shiver. He tries to push himself up on his elbows so that he can watch as you shift atop him, hips rocking forward gently as you stroke at him.

“Syulang,” He manages, licking at his lips as his voice comes out all breathy and desperate. “Please.”

You grin at him, your eyes soft and affectionate as you watch him disintegrate beneath your touch. Then you’re lifting up onto your knees, using his chest as leverage, and Tsu’tey holds his breath as you position yourself over his cock.

“Breathe, baby.” You laugh, taking his mask and holding it up to his face.

He takes several deep breaths, feels the blurred edges of his mind sharpen, and reaches down to grab his cock. He helps you to position it, his cockhead gliding along your slick folds.

He has to pause for a moment, closing his eyes as his ears flatten back against his head. You’re so damn soft, your cunt is so hot and sticky wet, and he already knows that the moment his cock pushes inside of you he’ll be fighting for his life not to come instantly. He just wants to last long enough to please you, to make you feel good.

You let out a soft noise, your hips twitching as you try to hump your pussy back onto his cock. He has to grab your hips to keep you still, grunting.

“You’re teasing.” You whine, clutching at his arms as you try to wiggle your way back onto him.

“Mph.” Tsu’tey grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to contain himself. “Mawey, syulang. Patience.”

But patience doesn’t seem to be your strong suit. Your bright eyes have gone dark, pupils blown, forehead glimmering with sweat – you look beautiful, and Tsu’tey feels like he’s dying.

You lean forward and crash your mouth into his, kissing him hard and messy as you wriggle in his lap, trying to coax his cock inside you. Tsu’tey moans into your mouth, but then you’re pulling back, and your lips press against his nose, his cheeks, his forehead.

Still breathing deeply, Tsu’tey aligns his cock against your pussy, and at the same time as his sweet girl peppers his face with kisses, he begins to push inside. You whine at the pressure of the stretch, your forehead pressed against his as he presses his cock into you slowly, as slowly as he can manage.

“Come on,” You groan, leaning forward and letting your blunt little teeth scrape over the sensitive tip of his ear. “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

“Calm,” Tsu’tey gasps, clutching at your plush little hips in an effort to keep you from slamming yourself down on him all at once. “Calm, yawntutsyìp, I do not wish to hurt you—”

But his words are lost when you shift over him right as he begins to press into you again, and from one second to the next he slides half-way inside, past the small ring of resistance and into the velvety hot inside of your cunt.

It’s like a gut punch.

He moans like a dying man and holds you as tight as he can in an attempt to ground himself enough not to start thrusting. You gasp, your features scrunching into a pained wince as you’re split wide around the thickness of his cock. He doesn’t need you to vocalise your discomfort, so he rubs your puffy clit to try and make it better for you. His calloused thumb rubs slow circles on it at the same time as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting and whimpering.

Fuck, he needs to move.

Just a bit –

Just to take the edge off –

His hips pull back and then quickly snap forward again. “Fuck.”

It’s so easy it’s sinful. He pushes through the tightest cunt he has ever been in and it feels like home. He groans roughly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tries to catch his breath. He can’t help but look down, and he almost whimpers at the sight of your cunt stretched wide around his thick length, at the aborted little twitching of your hips as you try admirably hard to take him in deeper. You’re so much tighter than he expected, and it takes everything in him to pull back again.

When he withdraws, your pussy grips him all the way to the tip, making him feel so insane he had to immediately dive back in, gasping. He’s too big to fit inside of you completely, but that’s okay; your tiny pussy grips hard enough at the length that you can take that Tsu’tey feels like he’s about to black out.

“Yes!” You cry out, arching your chest against his so that he can feel the cool sensation of your piercings against his skin, your fingers knotting into his braids as you lift yourself up then down on his cock, meeting his sloppy thrusts.

Tsu’tey feels as though the world is fracturing around him as he pushes himself into your tiny little cunt, feeling your pussy clench around his cock like a fist. It's so tight and sweet, his dick feels as though it's being pulled into paradise.

Being inside you is heavenly; it’s like your sweet little pussy is made for him, molding to him and stretching where it needs to, squeezing him tight to the point of pain. He pistons in and out of you from below, finding his own pace as the bed shakes from the force of his thrusts. You make soft, wet little sounds, a wanton creature in response in response as you undulate atop of him.

Your tits bounce every time he thrusts up into you, and he finds his eyes glued to sight before his self-control cracks and he’s leaning forward to take one of your breasts into his mouth. It takes a bit of contortion, his spine curving as his mouth locks around your tit, his tongue rolling against your little pierced nipple, his ears wiggling eagerly as they pick up your little mewls.

Oh, he’s not going to last long; he already feels like he’s losing his mind.

Soft, desperate little noises are babbling out of your mouth as you fuck yourself down on his cock, clutching at his shoulders for balance. Your jaw is slack and your mouth is open, and Tsu’tey can see flashes of your little pink tongue as you gasp and whimper everytime he rolls his hips up into you. Your movements have taken on an edge of desperation as you ride him, your pussy squeezing him so tight his vision is going blurry.

Then your little body is seizing, weak gasping moans spilling from your lips as your spine goes stiff. Your cunt clenches in sporadic little pulses, and Tsu’tey nearly roars at the intensity of it – your pussy sucks so tight that it almost hurts. It’s a weaker orgasm than your first one, but you still sob your way through it as you clutch at him.

“Oh, syulang, fuck.” Tsu’tey grits out, the human curse word sounding coarse and foreign on his tongue.

He wants to do this forever, to stay buried in you all night, but you’re sucking him in and clinging to him in a vice grip as you push back against him, and he’s about to explode. He’s overwrought, grunting against your sweat-damp skin as he clutches your soft little body close to him, the motion of his hips turning jerky and sloppy as he feels that tingly pressure grow in his stomach.

He lifts you off his cock with a cut-off snarl, grabbing at his cock with a clumsy hand as that pressure bubbles over. He comes with more force than he had been expecting, his come spurting out onto your belly and over your tits, dripping steadily over your smooth skin.

Part of him is a little embarrassed about how quickly he had come, but the larger part of him feels it was impressive that he didn’t spill the instant he got his cock inside of you. But you’re pouting up at him, clutching at his chest as you push back against him.

“No,” You whine, your voice quiet and tired as you try to grind your messy pussy back onto him. “Wanted you to come inside.”

Tsu’tey is already breathless, but the sweet little whimper in your voice nearly knocks him flat yet again. His cock is still throbbing, the last few drops of his release spurting out and glowing lightly against your skin. He takes in the sight of his seed spattered across your pretty little body greedily, committing it to memory. Nothing in his raunchiest wet dreams could have compared to the reality of this moment.

“We will have time for that, yawntutsyìp,” He whispers, his stomach clenching in excitement at the thought. “You will not need another man again.”

You grumble lightly, but he can see the satisfied little smile on your face as you go limp in his arms, burrowing closer to his chest as you collapse down next to him. Having you in his arms feels perfect; his tail curls in satisfaction when he realises how perfectly you fit against his chest, and he purrs smugly as he nudges his nose against your temple.

He rolls, scooping you up and arranging you so that you’re laying sprawled at his side, before curving his body around yours and wrapping an arm around your little body. Your body is still glistening with sweat and the dimly bioluminescent streaks of come that Tsu’tey has left on you – he’s torn between the urge to care for you, to clean you up and make sure that you’re sated and pleased, and to leave you marked and carrying his scent.

He’ll clean you up in a few minutes, he decides, allowing himself to enjoy the sight of you after being thoroughly claimed for a little while longer.

“If you ever say we’re just friends again I’ll kick your ass.” You mumble, pressing your face into his pectoral muscles.

You’re acting as though your bones have been dissolved into jelly, laying all limp and pliable against him even as you squirm closer. Tsu’tey allows himself to just stare at you, admiring all the subtle little bite-marks and bruising that he can’t remember leaving behind, admiring your puffy nipples and your still gooey cunt.

“Mm.” Tsu’tey hums, dipping his head down and laying it carefully on your chest. He’s a little nervous that he’ll be too heavy, but your small hands come up to tangle in his braids and scratch soothingly at his scalp. He allows his eyes to flutter shut, enjoying the plush softness of your breasts under his face.

“I like you very much, syulang.” He says, enjoying the pulse of your heartbeat beneath his head. “I am sorry that I have been slow to understand your interest.”

You laugh a little sleepily, craning your neck so that you can kiss his forehead before laying back again. “You certainly did a good job showing me your interest just now.”

“I will do more,” Tsu’tey promises, hardly even aware of what he’s saying. “I will collect kllpxiwll berries for you everyday, and go swimming as often as you like, and make you pretty jewelry, and keep you satisfied—”

You start to laugh before he even finishes.

“Who would’ve known a big grumpy asshole like you is capable of being so romantic.” You snicker as he nuzzles into your tits.

Your lack of a tail and blunt ears make it hard for him to read you, but he can tell by your tone of voice that you’re teasing him. He just curls around you, not minding at all. He enjoys the thought of proving to you exactly how romantic he can be – he has much to prove, and much to make up for.

“I am not grumpy now.” He mutters, turning his face so that it’s buried neatly in between your tits. He licks lazily over your left breast, savouring the feeling of the little silver barbell nestled in your nipple against his tongue.

You shiver, a soft little overwhelmed gasp escaping your lips as he kisses leisurely at your puffy and oversensitive nipples.

“No,” You murmur, and he can hear the fondness in your voice. “You’re not.”

Tsu’tey purrs, his whole body curving around you as he kisses absent-mindedly at your tits, his thoughts pleasantly hazy and somewhat nebulous.

“Breathe.” You remind him tiredly, your voice a little slurred around the edges with sleep.

Upon your urging, he lifts the stupid mask back up to his face and fits it clumsily over his mouth and nose. He wraps his arm around your waist, holds you tight, and just breathes as the two of you lay together, sated and satisfied.

#tsu'tey #tsu'tey x human reader #tsu'tey x reader #avatar wotw #avatar x reader #avatar 2009 #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human reader #terato #alien x reader #fics

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seravphs · 11 months

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — KNIGHT! GOJO x PRINCESS! FEM READER

Gojo has devoted his entire life to protecting you as your dedicated guard. A greater force is conspiring to keep you apart.

wc — 3.7k

tags — royal au, childhood friends, forbidden love, protective Gojo, sneaking around/flouting social etiquette, period drama-esque tension between repressed princess and rakish knight, mutually possessive, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

part 1 of the hand which holds the knife

Everyone knew Satoru Gojo was supposed to be yours.

You claimed him the day you knighted him. He wore your colors and answered to your demands. The physical evidence of your ownership was all over him, the way someone would mark a well loved pet. Even the neck of his jacket carried your embroidery like a collar. To anyone with eyes, he was your adored guard dog.

When all of your memories blur into one stream of consciousness, the day you knighted him remains clear. You remember everything, including your father stealing him out from under you.

You were the only one who truly thought he was ever going to be yours. It was part of the promise you had sworn to each other as children, playing princess and the guard with wooden swords and flower crowns.

Looking back, you can see the gears of court machinations turning. It was no simple coincidence that the only heir to House Gojo ended up in close proximity to you, any more than any other of your introductions to sons of highborn houses.

Gojo has no interest in pretending to be a prince. It was boring for him to be trapped in restricting uniforms complete with epaulets. He found more pleasure in protecting you from danger while you preened in your gilded cage, none the wiser through his efforts. Safe and unaware, the way he liked it. You would never have to know how dangerous the world was if he simply destroyed everything in your path before it got to you.

You didn’t understand the way the adults looked at the two of you. All you knew was that you couldn’t bear to be apart from him. You rose each morning looking for him, and went to bed waiting for the minute you’d be reunited again. He was your whole world, your one and only friend. It was his hand that guided you through childhood adventures. He was the sword and shield that had cut down kidnappers and serpents for you.

The first wedge in your relationship comes with his twelfth birthday.

You chase his back through the years, watching it broaden in front of your eyes. His body changes. His voice drops. The first time you hear it after the pitchy squeaks of puberty clear from his throat, you feel the sickening wrench of something in your stomach. It had never mattered before that Gojo was a man, potentially your betrothed.

Now it burns you to look at him. He became gorgeous while you weren’t looking, all long willowy limbs and snow white hair. The women of the court have started looking at him now. They call him the beautiful dragon, after his house crest.

Even though you know reasonably that you can do nothing about this, really, you have no right to, that galls you. You’re a princess. You’re used to being able to deal with things that upset you with little more than a nod to Gojo. But he can’t solve issues that he’s the root of.

The only way to show everyone that Gojo’s devotion belongs to you is to tie him to your side. At twelve, he’s already the strongest squire in the entire kingdom. Better than most knights, even. It’s a clear path to being the greatest knight of his time, throughout all of history, even. He already promised to be your sword when you were children. All you have to do is wait.

Gojo trains and you begin to learn the extent of your royal responsibilities. Study etiquette. Marry well. Become a dutiful wife. Give the king heirs.

Gojo becomes Lord Gojo. He calls you princess now. Although part of you rebels at the idea that he would ever call you anything other than your name, another part of you can’t help the queasy feeling you get when he says your title, low and soft. Like he means it for your ears only. Like princess is just another way of showing how much of him is yours.

Gojo is not usually a proud man because he doesn’t have to be. His abilities speak for himself. But he’s cocky to a fault. He knows the extent of his capabilities, which means he won’t capitulate to anyone. Why would he?

When it comes to you, however, he bends his neck and accepts the collar willingly. The strongest can only be tamed by what he allows to tame him and it’s you, it’s always been you.

Perhaps that’s why things turn out the way they do on the day you knight him.

Or, as you find out later, your father knights him.

It was the day after your sixteenth birthday. Gojo himself had turned seventeen three months and six days before. It was strangely old for a boy of his caliber. He was so talented he could’ve been the youngest knight in the realm, but no one could make Gojo do something he didn’t want to do.

There was no shame in it, either. Everyone knew Gojo was too talented and well-connected for it to be anything other than his own choice. The only heir of House Gojo, he was destined to become a knight even if he did nothing to earn it. And he had done much to earn it.

Winning wars single handedly tended to do that. There were already legends blooming from the battlefield by the time he came home and tossed the unlucky enemy commander’s head at the king’s feat. His bow wasn’t nearly low or respectful enough to be addressed to the king, but he had been lighter-hearted back then, more willing to forgive.

Especially for Gojo, who had cut a killing swathe through the ranks of the opposing army so ruthlessly they began to call him a god of death.

Gojo kneels at your feet, his white head still high. He’s a little too tall for you, even at this angle. Lord Commander Yaga clears his throat. Gojo looks up through the wisps of hair that have escaped to obscure his eyes. They’re piercing, an attractively violent blue.

“I’m sorry,” he says, so low no one else could’ve heard the two of you even if you hadn’t been standing alone on the podium in front of the king’s throne. “Am I too tall for you now, princess?”

“Don’t tease,” you whisper back, flustered despite yourself. The pommel of the sword is clammy in your grip. You’re scared to drop it and accidentally take a finger off with it.

You’re taking too long. It’s making you anxious. You’re distinctly aware of your father’s stare boring into your back. You’ve been sheltered since you were young by your father’s paranoia, but he’s recently begun letting you apply yourself more to your royal duties. You can’t give him any reason to doubt you.

Gojo dips a little lower.

With this change in angle, you can place the flat of the blade on each of his shoulders. It’s your father’s sword, too large and unwieldy in your hands. Standing over Gojo is a strange experience. It’s uncomfortable looking down on someone who’s been taller than you for all your life.

You wish he would stop looking at you like that. His gaze is searching. You feel naked underneath it, even with layers of dresses on. When he says his vows, it feels intimate, like he’s speaking them to you. For you.

Gojo rises, shaking his hair out of his eyes like a shaggy dog. Like this, you’re reminded suddenly of how strong he is. His shoulders are broad underneath his silver armor. Lean muscle cords his legs. There’s an easy, effortless grace to the way he moves - the confidence of a man who has never been bested in his entire life.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. He’s still standing too close. If it were any other man, your father would have demanded he be whipped by now, but Gojo has always gotten away with things no one could. He ducks his head so he can speak directly into your ear - dangerous, even for him. He says his piece fast. “I’ll see you in your rooms, my lady.”

Then he pulls back.

There are thunderclouds gathering across the king’s face, but when you shake your head, your father relents. He smiles and kisses your temple as you climb up the steps of the platform of his throne to return the sword to him.

Years later, you learn that the moment you leave the throne room, your shoulders sure with the knowledge that Gojo is finally secure in your grasp, your father takes up the sword you had held and knights him. Princesses have no authority to confer knighthood. Only kings.

You know your father means well. He loves you. You’re all he has left. If Gojo pushed for your hand to be one that he swears loyalty to first, then your father would have been happy to comply either way. You just wish you would’ve known that it meant nothing.

There’s a sharp rap on your door, followed by two short, one long. A code you had devised a long time ago. You pull open the door and Gojo all but falls into your room. He’s pressed up against you, front to front as he closes the door behind him, tumbling you into your bed.

“Hi, princess,” he says, his breath warm against your neck. You squirm in his hold, feeling heat rush through your veins. It’s getting harder and harder to hide the way he affects you, but you don’t want anything to change between the two of you. Though sometimes, you swear Gojo likes using your title so much precisely because he knows how you react to it.

“We have to stop doing this,” you tell him, like you tell him every time. “It’s inappropriate.”

He groans and pushes away from you. You mourn the loss of contact. “Come on, don’t make me do this again. Who cares if it’s inappropriate? Who says?”

“Dame Zenin thinks we’re too close.”

“Dame Zenin is an idiot,” Gojo says. “You know she only says that because she wants to get rid of me so you’ll look at Naoya. As if you would ever, even if I was gone.”

“Still.”

Gojo grabs your chin in his hand. “You are a princess and I am the only heir to House Gojo. We bow to no one, understand? What right do mice have to judge dragons?”

He’s the dragon, you think. Your crest is the rose. You exist to be judged. That’s the role of a princess.

Gojo sprawls out on your bed. He’s so tall he takes up more than half of it, even though your bed was built to be more than twice your size. His eyes are shut, his long white lashes soft. He looks gentle in repose, almost like a lamb with his coloring.

He’s beautiful. He always is. You want to touch, to hold, to claim. You want to press your ear against his chest and steal the thunderous beat of his heart for your own. You want to press your rouged lips to his neck and collarbones, to mark his body with a muted rose.

Instead, you sit stiff, prim and proper.

He opens his eyes. “Come here,” he says, his arm reaching for you. You let him pull you closer.

As always, he has to reach out first. You can’t allow yourself to take what you want. It’s not in your nature, the way you were raised.

You bury your face into the space between his neck and his shoulder.

“There we go,” he coos. Your face burns with the condescension of it, the way he treats you like an animal that has to be carefully coaxed closer. But he’s not wrong, and that’s why you let him pet you into submission, gently stroking your sides as he tangles his legs with yours.

You were never so affected by him as children. Somewhere along the way, Gojo had become unmanageable to you, and you don’t know what to do about it.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs against your hair. “Where are you going off to in that pretty head of yours?”

“I’m with you,” you whisper against his neck. “I’m always here.”

You’ve spoiled him, you think. When you were a child, you didn’t know any better. Gojo was just Gojo. Letting him stay by your side even as you got older was an indulgence that he now pushes the limits of. He’s never cared about propriety.

“You have to go back to your room now,” you whisper reluctantly. You’re always the more cautious one of your duo. It’s been too long. Someone will become suspicious. For once, you wish you could just let go of your worries, but someone has to check Gojo. If both of you just did whatever you wanted, it’d be the ruin of your houses. This is how it has to be: Gojo pushes and you pull back.

The dim light of the dying candles make his blue eyes appear black. “Give me something of yours first,” he says.

You know what he’s asking for. You climb up from the bed and go into your dresser to search, turning up one of your handkerchiefs. It bears the colors of your house and your careful embroidery.

He kneels at your feet.

“Stop,” you say, trying to pull away.

Gojo presses a kiss to your hand. His lips are soft against the skin of your hand, temptation incarnate. Your fingers tremble lightly in his grasp, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away. The enormity of your desire for him terrifies you. If you ever let him in for one second, you can see how easy your descent would be.

“I’m yours, princess. Don’t forget it.”

With that, he ties your favor around his wrist and finally leaves you to your room, panting like you’d run through the halls. No matter how old you get, Gojo always leads in your interactions. He plays with you, enjoying the way he can make you react to him.

It’s normal for a princess to visit the training yard, you try to convince yourself the next day. There’s nothing strange about stopping by while you’re on your afternoon walk. After all, you should keep abreast of everything within your castle.

Gojo stands in the center of the yard. He’s demonstrating one of his self created drills, a complicated set of maneuvers only he can pull off. In short, he’s showing off while pretending like he’s doing the class a favor by trying to teach them something.

Lord Commander Yaga notices you the moment you set foot in the yard. You should expect it. After all, it’s his territory.

“Attention,” he bellows. “The princess is here.”

Gojo perks up and finishes his final set of movements even faster. He throws his sword carelessly to the side, leaving a young squire scrambling to catch the priceless weapon as he strides towards you.

He’s a little sweaty. You want to wrap your arms around him anyways, but you restrain yourself.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” you say.

Gojo grins at you. It’s a sharp thing, his smile, hungry and wolfish. “Not at all. I was just thinking of you, my lady.”

You tilt your head at him curiously.

Around you, the men are scrambling to line up into neat little rows.

“I’m picking a squire,” Gojo says. “Would you like to make the decision for me?”

It’s a question that shocks you. You whirl to look at him again, see if he’s joking like usual, but he seems perfectly serious. “I don’t know anything about knighthood,” you tell him the truth.

He moves closer. You’re tempted to step back immediately, but you don’t. You don’t want a sign of discomfort to be misinterpreted and used against him. Besides, you relish the proximity. Seeing Gojo in public feels like dancing on blades. The adrenaline terrifies you, but you can’t stop wanting more of it.

“You may not, but you know people. I trust your judgement.”

A cursory scan of the boys in front of you reveals little. They’re all stiff and proper, their backs as straight as they can make them. Some stand with their arms glued to their sides, others fidget with their swords. Every single one of them is eager for the chance to be acknowledged by the princess. They’re equally hopeful for the chance to squire for the greatest knight in the kingdom.

None of them catch your eye on the first or second passes.

Only on the third, a boy with pink hair smiles at you. It’s such a small gesture. But for a boy who had looked just like everyone else at first, the toothy smile splits his features. It opens him up. He looks kind.

You gesture him forward.

Lord Commander Yaga nods approvingly. “Itadori is a good one, Your Royal Highness. He’s one of the best in this batch. Naturally strong, but just as hardworking.”

“See,” Gojo says. “I knew you would choose well.”

He touches your hand briefly, slipping a white scrap of paper inside your closed fist before he grabs Itadori by the shoulder and hauls him off for further training. Although disappointed, the other squires still look starstruck to be in his presence, though Yaga disperses them all to train themselves soon enough.

In elegant cursive, Gojo has written a time and place.

You shouldn’t go.

You can’t risk it.

All eyes are on you and Gojo as it is. People already suspect the two of you of something unsavory. Courtly love is one thing, but you and Gojo are too close for an unmarried man and a woman. As a princess, your sole purpose is to marry well and bring alliances to your house. You can’t risk damaging your reputation.

But every stolen encounter with Gojo steals your breath away. You sneak through the halls, quiet and empty.

A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor.

You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence.

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.”

You bite him.

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Why would you do that? You scared me!”

“You’re not careful enough, princess. There was a maid coming up on your left that you hadn’t even noticed.”

You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it.

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.”

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. It’s easy to relax when he’s with you, his presence the promise of security.

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he’s silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him.

“Gojo?”

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You laugh, picking it up and raising to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised.

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile, too. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.”

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease.

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s, too.”

You freeze.

“I’m sorry. I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to ask your father to be your dedicated knight tomorrow. Do I have your permission?”

You hesitate, worrying your lip with your teeth, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you, bandaging your scrapes that you refuse to cry over or avenging your honor after you pretend your pride hasn’t been hurt has taught him a lot. He can see right through you. You never need to hide when you’re with him.

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-”

“I know,” he says. “But I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him if I have to.”

“Don’t do that,” you gasp.

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor. Can I ask your father for you?”

You look at the crushed violet in your hand.

Who else but Gojo?

You press the flower back into his palm. “I trust you to do what’s right.”

His eyes soften. He leans closer.

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?”

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer.

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever.

You nod, not trusting your voice not to give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you.

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.”

“A new plaything?” Asks the Lord Commander. “I’m not so scary, am I?”

Gojo notices you tremble harder. He lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face even further. “Come here, darling,” he murmurs. “That’s right, what a good little thing,” he says as you press yourself into him. He pulls you over his lap, your legs straddling his waist as he runs his hand up and down your back. “Keep your head down,” he whispers to you. You tuck your face farther into the crook of his neck.

Louder, he responds to Yaga. “The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard.”

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?”

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully.

In hindsight, you’re still not sure if Yaga recognized you or not. On one hand, he’s known you since you were a child. He watched, a silent guard, as your father raised you. On the other hand, he’s never brought it up to you.

The only other reason you suspect he realized who you really were was Gojo’s induction into the kingsguard the very next day.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 5 months

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Unpredictable Part 3-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: AAAH, thank you for all the support on this. I didn't think it'd be a series but I can't stop writing.

Warnings: toxic parents, body shaming, eating disorders, alcohol abuse, and swearing

Words: 7.7k

Series Masterlist

“…and that’s how I knew that I was meant to do charity work,” the nasal redhead concluded.

That afternoon, the Si Chi house was packed with pledges in floral or puffy Selkie and Miss Selfridge sun dresses. A handful of servers circulated the foyer with trays of orange juice and mimosas. The combination of Prada Candy and Viktor Rolfe Flowerbomb made my head spin but I smiled through it as I nodded at different pledges’ stories. All of them were desperately trying to toe the line between interesting and bragging because one could never act too important for a potential house.

“That’s great news,” I glanced at her name tag, “Brenda since Si Chi regularly engages in philanthropic work.”

Brenda smiled widely, making the hot pink blush on her cheeks even more prominent. “I know, that’s why I’m so interested in joining this---your house.”

“Well, we are glad that you took the time to visit us. Would you excuse me?”

As I weaved my way through the foyer, I plucked a mimosa from a passing server and started sipping. Exactly five seconds passed until I was surrounded by a new crop of bright-eyed freshmen.

“Oh my gosh, are you Y/N Y/L/N?” a willowy brunette asked.

“Guilty, and you are?”

“She’s Justine,” a shorter brunette interrupted.

Justine narrowed her eyes and thinly covered the glare with a smile. “I can introduce myself, thanks, Renee.”

Renee shrunk a little in her oversized light blue sundress and I glanced at Justine.

“So, why are you interested in our house?” I asked.

Justine straightened up and smiled like a pageant girl. “Well, I’m perfectly aligned with all the values of Si Chi: Sisterhood, respect, and intelligence. I am all about women empowerment and I respect people from all backgrounds----I’m exposed to a bunch of different people as an actress, anyway.”

“What about intelligence?”

“Well, I think there’s many different kinds of intelligence and, as an actress, I’m emotionally intelligent to the point where I’m exhausted by everyone else’s energy.”

“She really has to prioritize self-care,” Renee added.

“It’s great that you’re aware of that for yourself.”

She had to be one of the least self-aware people I ever encountered and that was a difficult fete. However, her socials had decent numbers and she had been in a few Vought Plus movies, which would help her win Sydney and Lydia, the vice president, over. The next two years with her and her friend would be irritating.

A softer expression slipped across Justine’s face, and she took a step towards me. “I just want to say that I think it’s so brave that you’ve been participating in all the rush events despite your traumatic experience. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to see Luke,” she paused and placed a hand on her chest, “kill himself.”

Though it had been a week since, it still felt like a bomb rolled off Justine’s tongue when she said it. The wave of emotions that I experienced in that time was hard to describe; Shetty said that grief was a rollercoaster, and the influx of emotions was normal.

“As impossible as it may seem, one day you will come to accept what happened,” she’d advised. “You may experience more anxiety but, with your network, I am sure you will be able to cope.”

The network she referred to was strained at best and destroyed at worst. My “sisters” were as supportive as they could be: Alina gave me a Lush self-care kit, Sasha was not nearly as antagonizing as usual, Lydia gave me grief book recommendations, and Sydney let me pick what workout classes we attended. Emma and Cate were the only non-Si Chi people I spoke to since it was way too difficult to speak to the others.

Justine placed her hand on my shoulder. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can count on me.”

“Thank you for the thought,” I replied, smiling tightly.

“You must be so grateful that Marie was there to stop him,” Renee quipped.

I sipped some more juice to keep the confusing feelings from bubbling up. Nothing could have prepared me for Marie and Andre being propped as the Guardians of Godolkin, which was arguably the dumbest name Vought could give them. The less I wanted to see them, the more I saw their promos and videos. It was horrible that the last time we spoke we had a fight but every time I saw her, I felt a weird wrench in my chest.

At the very least, Emma seemed happy for her.

Then, Coco Allen, a Si Chi junior, appeared from the crowd and squeezed between the freshmen. “There you are, Y/N, I have a crim freshman with a water manipulation ability who wants to pick your brain.”

“Sure. Will you excuse me?”

“Bye!” Renee called as Coco pulled me through the crowd.

When we got to the less populated living room, I exhaled a breath I did not know I was holding. Then, I turned to the beaming Coco.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. You know I hate entitled freshmen,” Coco mused.

Coco was the only other black girl in Si Chi and happened to be the first one to talk to me when I visited the house last year. She was a little shorter than me with deep mahogany skin that always glowed. She always wore her waist-length jet-black hair in tight curls and accessorized solely with gold jewelry. That day, she wore a fitted white sundress with espadrilles.

“Were there this many last year?” I asked.

Coco shook her head. “But there are a few more black girls so it’s promising.”

“That’s great! I hope I can find them before the event’s over.”

“That would be great.” Coco eyed me. “So, how are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, the mimosas don’t hurt though.”

“They never do. You didn’t have to come today, you know, you could have taken more time, get out of here for a minute.”

I shook my head. “I needed this, it’s a nice distraction or, it has been. Besides, what would it look like if the secretary didn’t attend?”

Coco nodded slowly but I could tell that the gears in her head were turning too much for her to be convinced. “You’re already Sydney and Lydia’s favorite and they might have let it slide.”

I cocked my head at her and she immediately started chuckling half-heartedly.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. The hoops they make us jump through are ridiculous,” Coco reflected.

“It makes sense why you didn’t want to be an officer even though you’re poli sci,” I commented.

Coco grinned. “Hey, I’m making decent connections just by being in this house. This is just a steppingstone on my path to become the first black woman supe president.”

Even though the title was long, if anyone could do it, it was Coco. One time last year I sat in on one of her debates in class and she had a senior in tears and their debate partner ready to put their laser eyes to good use.

“Well, don’t forget little ole me when you’re a big shot,” I teased.

Coco frowned. “What do you mean ‘little’? You have done too much to talk like that.”

I shrugged. “Not that they’re not as important but my four-year plan is less impressive than yours.”

“Oh yeah, the plan where you basically end up a trophy wife? No shade but, I think you’d be way too bored in that role.”

“Hey, I would have a city contract too. Plus, it’s what I want and what I see for myself every time I look into the future. Every step I have taken up until this point puts me closer to that.”

My voice was much stronger than I thought it would be but Coco was always pushing me. Some days it was motivating and on others, it was infuriating.

“Like I said, I’m not trying to crush your dreams or your plan but is that really all you want for yourself? Especially thinking about all the good you’re already doing with your powers?” Coco questioned.

Her words plagued me for the rest of the event and bugged me when we gave our ratings of the pledges to Sydney and Lydia.

“Oh, and Y/N, don’t forget to send me that compilation with all the pledges’ socials,” Sydney requested as I was on my way out of the foyer.

“Of course, you’ll have it by the end of the day.”

Everything was much quieter underwater, except for my thoughts, but those were much clearer. Every time I thought about where I would be in five years, it was the same: smiling at a city event on the arm of some suit. I never saw the man’s face but I knew he had to be somewhat attractive. My eyes fluttered closed at the bottom of the pool and I focused on my future.

It was the same image, complete with flashing cameras and I was wearing a gorgeous rose pink Oscar de la Renta gown. My hair was piled on top of my head in Senegalese twists, and I was smiling widely. However, when I tried to look at whose arm I was on, it was like I could not turn my head. The harder I tried, the sorer the side of my neck got.

After a few more seconds of trying, I pushed myself up to the surface and sucked in the air. The sky was a mix of orange, purple, and blue. Sydney was blasting “My Head, My Heart”, which signaled that she was getting ready to go out with Eric Landon, the president of Sigma Kappa. It would be nice to be asked on a date, a proper one without the expectations of sex later.

My face warmed at the fact that I had never actually been asked out. People constantly told me how good looking I was but that did not translate into boys falling all over themselves for me. There were the occasional fun nights out but it would always end in that same venue. I didn’t think I asked for too much: flowers, good morning and good night texts, respect, intelligence, and ambition. Emma told me I watched too many movies once and while that could have been true, I also thought that it wasn’t too much to ask a guy to hold a door open.

It also did not help that Jordan was the last person I ever got close to being intimate with. I groaned at the thought and dove underwater, making my way to the other side of the pool.

An almost-kiss should mean absolutely nothing but I could not stop thinking about it, just like I could not stop thinking about how Jordan would throw me under the bus to save themselves. I would never do that to anyone, especially not someone I cared about.

But you already did, the voice in my head hissed.

Marie didn’t count, I didn’t mean to do that; Andre, Luke, Cate, and Jordan decided for me. I would have stayed if it was my choice but that didn’t matter to Marie or any of them.

I pushed myself from the side of the pool and butterfly stroked my way to the other side. Thankfully, the water was heated and soothed my aching muscles. As I was about to resurface, I noted a blurry tall blonde figure standing above me. When I pushed up, Cate stood over me, her eyes worried.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hi, can we talk?”

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, I was wrapped in a fluffy towel and standing across from Cate. Her eyes shifted around for a moment before she suggested we headed inside. When we got to my room, she immediately closed the door behind us.

“Is there any way someone would have listening devices in here?” Cate asked.

“No,” I said slowly.

“Are you sure? There’s shit out now where they put it in the tiniest crevices and you would never know,” Cate argued.

“I would have seen it or had a hint about it. What’s going on?”

Cate finally sat on my bed, and I opted to stand across from her. “Andre and I found some stuff that makes Luke and Brink’s deaths way more complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing, they totally cleared out his room the day after he died and I mean everything.”

My eyes widened. “Even the…special drawer?”

“Yes, and at first, I thought it was protocol but what would they do with all those----”

“I get it, Cate, what else did you and Andre find?”

As Cate continued to speak, I could feel my stomach sink further and further, until I was sure it was somewhere in the house basement. Nothing Cate said meant anything positive for anyone. If there was some kind of lab under us, that meant anyone could become a part of it.

“Have you told anyone else?” I asked.

Cate huffed and leaned back on my bed. “Well, Jordan’s been spiraling about Marie and the rankings, so I can’t get a word in about anything else.”

“They’re spiraling?” I asked.

“You haven’t talked to them since Luke died?” Cate asked.

When she said it like that, it sounded like I committed a cardinal sin. After that day, there was nothing else for me to say to them. Even though I saw them in class occasionally, I never spoke to them and desperately tried to avoid eye contact.

“They could have reached out too,” I muttered.

“You’re such a younger sibling,” Cate commented.

“It’s true!” I whined.

“Well, they’ve been freaking out about the rankings since they fell down to number five and Andre’s number one.”

Being in the Top Five was like Jordan’s lifeline. They’d always shared a friendly rivalry with Luke but I knew they wanted to be number one eventually. They spent almost all their time making sure they stayed in a high position and to drop to bottom of the Top Five must have been devastating.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“Yeah, and your new best friend cracked the Top 100 and is Jordan’s new nemesis,” Cate added.

I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a chocolate brown loungewear set. “Neither of them are my friends.”

Cate frowned. “Seriously, what is going on with you? The other night, you and Marie were inseparable, and you and Jordan were bantering. What happened?”

It must have been the fact that I was holding all my thoughts and feelings in because I burst.

“Marie and I can’t be friends since she thinks I’m a shallow bitch who would sacrifice her to save myself because I hang out with people who do. The funny part is that Jordan admitted they would backstab me if they could get ahead, which is definitely not something I would do to a friend or anyone I almost kissed!”

I was panting by the end and my chest felt a lot lighter. However, my nerves began to build when I noticed Cate’s mischievous grin.

“Who did you almost kiss?” Cate asked.

“That’s not the point,” I mumbled.

Cate stared at me for a second before lighting up. “It was Jordan, wasn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You hesitated which means I’m right. It could have easily been Marie though since you were all over her.”

“Why do people keep saying that? I was being nice!”

Cate held up her hands in a relaxed defense. “Chill, Y/N, it’s okay to like more than one person at once.”

“I don’t like either of them.”

“At all?” Cate quirked an eyebrow.

“No,” I pouted.

Cate looked unimpressed and I felt even more unimpressed since I knew that I liked Marie and Jordan platonically.

“Okay, we’ll save that for later but, I don’t think Jordan would tell you that they would backstab you and they would not think about it. They would do it to other people, but not you.”

“You’re just saying that because they’re your friend and you weren’t there.”

Cate cocked her head to the side. “Think, Y/N, did Jordan really say, ‘I would backstab you if it would save my ass’?”

As I recalled the memory, I slowly rocked back and forth on my heels. “They didn’t say that but, they didn’t answer me when I asked if they would.” “You probably caught them off guard,” Cate reasoned. “I’m sure if you talked to them, things would go okay.”

I hesitated and set my clothes on my bed. “Let’s say that I decided to speak to them, I don’t know what to say. Even if I did, my class tomorrow isn’t with them.

“You’re not going to the Think Brink gala tomorrow night?” Cate asked.

Earlier that day, Mom mentioned something about a gala on the phone but I was only half-listening. In my defense, there was only so much complaining about her clients and Dad that I could stand. I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and “Go to Brink gala” was in bright letters on my calendar.

“I guess I am,” I concluded.

“Then, you have some time to figure it out. You might get lucky and not even have to say anything.” I nodded and messed with the charm on my phone. “But what about Marie?”

“You’ll figure that out too. Indira’s taking her to the gala so, you can get both your ‘friends’ back,” Cate said, putting “friends” in air quotes.

“Why did you do it like that? Don’t say it like that.”

“Just because you’re in denial doesn’t mean I am. Think about it, would you be this freaked out if we had a fight?”

The “yes” should have come immediately but it didn’t; it died in my throat, and I couldn’t look at Cate. Why were things different with Marie and Jordan? Why did I stress out about them when I tried to stop thinking about them?

“Can you just make me say the right thing?” I asked.

Cate mulled it over for a moment. “I think it’s best if you do it yourself. If you don’t have a vision about it, something will come to you.”

“Thanks, Cate. If you and Andre need any help snooping----”

“You will be the first person I text,” Cate assured.

“I was going to say that I’ll probably know before you.”

I narrowly avoided the pillow Cate tossed at me and laughed at her effort.

“Maybe you are getting a little too cocky, Y/N.” She stood and walked over to me. “And for the record, I would never betray you in any way, neither would Andre or Jordan. If either of them did, they would have to deal with me.”

“Thanks, I would hug you but I’m still soaking wet.”

“Yeah, that’s smart. I know this might be useless but try not to worry about everything.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You’re taking the meds from Indira?”

“Yes, Mom,” I teased.

“Just trying to help.”

Strangely, that was the first night since Luke’s death that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The trend was that I would strain myself to have premonitions until I was exhausted and tried again in the morning. For once, sleep found me quickly.

After sitting through a two-hour lecture on trauma’s impact on villains and heroes, I was more than happy to wander back to the Si Chi house and decompress. In a few hours, Talia, Mom’s assistant, would arrive with options for the gala. Then, the glam team would arrive and do their best to ignore Mom while they did their jobs.

I needed all the relaxation I could get.

As I was mentally reviewing which movies I could watch, my phone kept buzzing in my back pocket. I thought it was another flurry of comments on the TikTok Coco and I made yesterday but it was from a strange number.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: Y/N, pls come 2 my dorm, it’s an emergency.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: Im srry we haven’t talked in a while but it’s important.

I frowned and typed back, ????

XXX-XXX-XXXX: It’s Marie. Emma’s in trouble.

My stomach dropped and I replied, B there soon.

As I raced around other people on campus, my thoughts moved faster at the possibility of what could have been going on with Emma. The last time I had spoken to her was two days ago and she was okay then. If anything, she may have been tense because Marie and I were not speaking but she had not said anything else.

I was halfway to their dorm when I ran into something solid.

“Watch where you’re going, Y/N,” Maverick sneered.

“If you put on some clothes, maybe I’d see you,” I shot back as I continued down the hall.

When I finally got to their dorm, I was panting and could barely knock. Marie pulled the door open, pulled me in, and closed the door behind me.

“Did you sprint here?” she asked.

I nodded. “You said…it was…an….emergency…Emma.”

In the middle of me grabbing my bearings, I noticed something tiny next to one of the supports on Emma’s bed. Slowly, I slid to my knees and crawled over to it. When I realized who it was, a choked gasp escaped my mouth.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“I don’t know. She was like that when I got here and I didn’t know what to do so I called you since you’ve known her the longest,” Marie rambled.

Her words barely registered in my brain as I went to one of Emma’s drawers, grabbed a small set of clothes, wrapped her in it, and carefully set her on her bed. Emma was barely breathing and was ghostly pale.

“Emma, I know you’re probably not going to like this but, you’re going to need to eat something.”

She didn’t reply and for a second, I wondered if she could.

I started rifling through all her stuff until I found a box of crackers. My hands trembled as I broke them into small pieces and kneeled in front of Emma. She never looked at me as she nibbled on each crumb I fed her.

Eventually, she grew back to her normal size. As soon as she was, she pulled her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry you saw me like that,” she muttered.

Slowly, I sat next to her and it was almost the same way zookeepers treated wild animals. If one moved calmly enough, they would not get attacked. Marie sat on her bed.

“It’s okay, I’m glad we were able to help,” I replied. “What happened?”

Emma sniffed. “I opened up to this girl in my class. We’re scene partners for a project and we were talking, and I guess I felt comfortable enough to tell her about how I get small. I thought it was just between us, but she posted this…this video on YouTube telling the whole world about it.”

“Who’s the girl?” Marie asked.

“How do you get small?” I uttered at the same time.

Emma froze for a moment and looked away from me. “I make myself…sick.”

When she said it, I suddenly remembered all those times she would go to the bathroom and then come out a miniature version of herself. However, all those times, it was for different commercials or other work-related events. Then again, there had to be times when she did it at home or at my house.

How did I never notice? “Emma, I’m so sorry. I wish you would’ve told me sooner,” I said.

Emma turned to me with a glare in her eyes. “Really? How would I work that into a conversation? ‘Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry to interrupt but, I make myself throw up to get small’?”.

“We’re friends, friends tell each other this kind of thing,” I insisted.

Emma scoffed. “Please, like you would get it if I told you. You’re perfect, you always have been. Your face, your hair, your body, your eyes, your life!”

“That’s not fair.”

“Emma, I think you need to get help,” Marie interrupted.

Emma’s gaze flickered to hers and I thought she might set Marie on fire. “I need to get help, that’s rich coming from you. You act like no one can see your scars.”

Marie flinched and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I do that for my powers, that’s different.”

Emma laughed callously. “Please, at least be honest. How about this: I’ll go to therapy when you admit to cutting.”

Emma’s voice had no tone and every word she said was like a hammer slamming into my chest. She wasn’t in the right headspace for any conversation and I kept reminding myself as I stood.

“We should talk later when we’ve all calmed down,” I suggested.

“I don’t want to speak to either of you again,” she hissed.

It took more effort than usual to swallow the lump in my throat as I let myself out of their dorm. Just as I was about to lean against the door and wallow, Marie slipped out behind me and shut the door. I took a step back, barely avoiding a pair of girls rushing past.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

“It’s fine.”

Silence filled the space for a moment, and I had no idea how to fill it. Cate said I would know what to say but I was at a loss.

“I’m sorry about what I said…that day,” Marie delivered gently.

My eyes snapped up at her. “Oh.”

She sighed. “I was just angry, and I thought you were a part of it but, Emma kept saying that you would never do something like that. I just didn’t know how to reach out or say anything.”

I know the feeling.

“I accept your apology but I’m also sorry that no one came back for you. I guess it worked out, though?”

Marie sighed and leaned against her door. “Sort of. The perks are nice and I’m in crim now but I feel like everyone’s looking at me and expects something from me; almost like they’re waiting for me to fail.”

“Really? They had me convinced you’d be the black Starlight,” I teased.

Marie laughed half-heartedly. “I still want to be a hero, though, someone like her people can look up to.”

“Anyone in particular?”

Marie hesitated. “My little sister. We were both obsessed with heroes when we were younger, but I was the one who got Compound V. She always looked up to me and I want to be someone who would make her proud.”

“That’s a really admirable goal,” I complimented.

She smiled softly. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be my competition to be the black Starlight?”

My expression faltered and I looked down at my French acrylics. “No, I don’t think I have the showmanship you do. Besides, my goal isn’t to be in the Seven.”

“Really? What do you want to do?” Marie asked.

“So, I have this four year plan and if I follow the steps I am on to a T, I will graduate with a city contract and be engaged to an eligible supe.”

Usually, when I told someone my four year plan, my chest swelled and my shoulders rolled back unconsciously. This time, it felt like I was a toddler showing my mom a drawing I made in school.

“Is that it?” Marie asked.

“I know it’s more traditional and maybe even a little lame but, it’s what I want,” I maintained.

Marie nodded slowly.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just imagined you doing something in, like, criminal AI or stopping criminals from re-offending.”

“Both are great, they’re just not me.”

“Which is fine,” Marie insisted.

She sounded a little too eager but I let it go as we started walking down the hallway.

“What should we do about Emma?” Marie asked.

“I’ve never seen her like that before but she’ll need time to cool off.”

“Sounds good, I just have nowhere to go until the gala tonight.”

“You could come to Si Chi for a bit. I can’t promise they won’t try to initiate you, though.”

Marie laughed. “Me, in a sorority?”

“Hey, we’re getting more black girls this year so you never know!”

“Whatever but, yeah, I’d like to hang out with you…at your house.”

Even though Marie rushed the last part, a smile quirked on the corners of my mouth. It would be nice to have a new friend over and it was even nicer that there was no more tension between us.

“You know, Emma never told us the name of that girl,” Marie pondered once we got outside.

“Oh, that’s easy.” I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I reached the right one.

Shelby answered on the first ring. “Y/N, hi!” “Hey, are you on your way to class?” I asked.

“Yeah, if I’m late one more time, Professor Elix is going to make me do an improv one-woman show!” she panted.

“Well, I don’t want to slow you down but, you have class with Emma Meyer, right?”

“Oh yeah, Intro to Stage, why?”

“Cool. She told me her stage partner has an incredible Insta aesthetic, but she never told me her name and I need new inspo.”

“Oh, that’s Justine. I don’t know her last name but I’m sure you’ll find her.”

“Thanks, Shelby. Have fun in class.”

“Thanks!”

I hung up and turned to Marie, whose eyebrows were raised. “What?”

“What was that voice?” Marie asked.

“It was my voice. Haven’t you heard of code-switching?”

“Fine. Did you get the name?”

“Yes, Justine and I’ve met her.”

“What? How?”

“She’s rushing Si Chi.” I couldn’t keep the devilish smile from working its way into my mouth.

“What does that look mean?” Marie asked.

“It means that there are many more perks to being in a top house besides living in it.”

For some reason, everyone thinks that white girls have a monopoly on passive aggression and relational aggression. That was not the case at all; black girls simply are more inclined towards active aggression but we’re capable of both. I proved as much during Brink’s gala.

The ballroom was packed with board members, trustees, alumni, and the wealthiest GOD U students, the latter being my target of interest. They were all easy to approach since I had met them at some function or another.

“Y/N,” Bianca Peterson gushed as she hugged me.

Her Gucci Guilty perfume tickled my nose and I willed myself not to sneeze as I politely pulled away from her. “Bianca, it’s been too long. I think the last time I saw you was at Beta Ro’s Brunch for Boy Scouts.”

Bianca nodded, light auburn curls bouncing around her sculpted features. “Yes, we bonded over jewelry.”

“And you still have fantastic taste,” I mentioned, gesturing to the gold buckle around her wrist.

“Thank you, it was a present from Theo but I gave him a few hints,” she bragged lightly.

“How is rush going?” I asked.

“Pretty well, our pledges are shaping up nicely this year, not that they don’t every year,” she quickly added the last part.

“Of course. Do you have a lot of girls from Counting?”

“We’re interested in a couple, why? Are you trying to poach?”

I shook my head. “Not at all, I just wasn’t sure if you heard what Layla from Zeta Nu discovered.”

Bianca raised a microbladed brow. “No, I don’t think I have.”

I took a deep inhale and slowly shook my head in disbelief. “Oh, well, I should let it come from her then.”

A moment later, Bianca glanced across the room at Layla Ruthers, the president of Zeta Nu, who was smiling politely at a pair of hunched-over old men.

“In case I don’t have a chance to talk to her, what happened?” Bianca asked.

I glanced around us for a moment before leaning closer. “Apparently, a freshman posted a video about another girl’s eating disorder.”

“Really?” Bianca’s eyes widened.

I nodded. “Layla was insulted for the other girl and banned the pledge from rushing Zeta Nu. She even said that no respectable house would accept someone so low-class.”

“Oh,” Bianca uttered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take up all your time. I should go mingle.”

I made it about two steps before Bianca gently grabbed one of my arms.

“Wait, Y/N. Did Layla say the name of the pledge?”

My eyes wandered around the twinkling lights of the room for a second. “Justine something, I think.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure!”

The rest of my conversations followed that pattern. Each girl I spoke to was shocked and horrified by my words. Plus, none of them would dare speak to the other; that would mean another house had better information than them. My final target was easily the most important one: Sydney.

In her ice-blue mermaid dress and intricate updo, she looked more like Cinderella than a gala attendee. She was standing at a table, nodding her head at something a shorter guy was saying.

“Excuse me,” I politely interrupted, “I need to borrow Sydney for a second.”

The guy deflated slightly. “Sure.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Sydney huffed a sigh of relief as soon as we were out of earshot. “Thank you, I don’t know what he was even talking about.”

“Anytime,” I replied.

She snatched a champagne flute from a passing server and downed half of it. “I can’t wait for this night to be over.”

I nodded. “It is morbid despite their attempt to dress it up.”

“Yeah, and my parents won’t stop bugging me about my future. I can only apply to so many internships and not everyone is looking for a telekinetic,” she griped. “Sorry, how are you?”

“I’m alright. Ironically, I think he’d hate the name they picked but I didn’t know him super well,” I admitted.

“Right.”

Here it goes.

“So, I think the event the other day was a success,” I commented.

“Definitely. The house was packed. It’s too bad we can’t accept them all.”

Sydney smiled as she spoke.

“I know. It’s great that there’s so much interest.” I paused for a second. “But, I wanted to tell you that something came up with one of the pledges.”

Sydney gestured for me to continue.

“Even though my social media deep dive on the pledges was thorough, something came up today that I thought you should know when considering the pledges,” I explained.

“Okay.”

“Today, Justine posted a video exposing another girl’s eating disorder. Several of the girls were upset when they saw it.”

“That’s awful,” Sydney responded.

“It’s also so disappointing since I met Justine during that event, and she was saying how women empowerment is important to her. I know that women empowerment is a huge passion for you and a foundation for Si Chi and to imagine a pledge so willing to tear down another woman infiltrating the safe space you building is horrifying.”

Despite the liquor, I could tell Sydney was processing my words quicker than any computer. Her expression shifted from shock to anger to coldness. Then, she finished the last of her champagne and set it on the table closest to us. “Thank you for telling me, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

As she walked away, I grinned widely at the response. Bid Day was going to be even more fun and interesting than last year. To celebrate, I grabbed myself a flute of champagne and sipped it as I started to wander the room.

“Y/N!”

My body froze at the masculine voice and my mind raced with what to say or do. Finally, I decided to face Jordan. They were in their masculine form and standing at a table by themselves. Though they looked fantastic in their navy suit, they looked like they hadn’t slept in days.

“Hello.”

I practically sang it and prayed for someone to make the floor swallow me.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Um, sure.” I walked closer to their table and rested my forearms on it.

“It’s good to see you,” he started. “Outside of class, I mean.”

“You too.”

Jordan nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s good.” He paused. “I’m sorry about everything.”

I looked up from tapping my nails on the tablecloth. “Wh---”

“Please, let me finish. That day…I don’t know why I didn’t just tell you that I wouldn’t throw you under the bus but I wouldn’t even think about it. How could I do that to my little freshman?”

For the first time ever, my chest warmed at the nickname. However, I tried to bite back the smile that was worming its way onto my face.

I glanced away for a moment, crossing my arms over my purple sleeveless satin gown. “Well, I guess I forgive you,” I playfully grumbled before turning back to him. “But you still did it pretty easily to Marie.”

Jordan’s expression faltered and he sipped some champagne. “Don’t mention her.”

“Why not? She’s my friend and we did a very mean thing,” I argued.

“Look, I protected myself and you that night, I won’t apologize for that. Besides, she’s still here and she’s doing great,” he spat.

“I know you’re pissed about the rankings but, those can change, especially with how hard you work and how powerful you are.”

Jordan scoffed. “That’s how it should work but no one wants to back a bigender Asian.”

His words made me stop for a second. In all the time I knew them, Jordan seemed invincible to punches, laser beams, electric shocks, and words. They made succeeding at Godolkin look so easy but it must have been anything but. Plus, Luke and Brink’s death must have impacted everything else.

“We’ll see about that,” I challenged. “There’s about thirty trustees and every board member in this room. There will have to be a few who will like you.”

Jordan hesitated. “I’m not really in the mood to promote myself.”

“Then let me talk,” I offered.

He eyed me for a while before crossing over to my side of the table and looping one of his arms with mine. “Don’t make me look bad, freshie.”

“I think that’s impossible.”

The first target was easy: a thirtysomething white guy with floppy light brown hair and an oversized gray suit. I focused on him for a moment, gathering as much information as I could.

“Trevor Emerson, GOD U alum and old money beneficiary,” I muttered to Jordan.

“Isn’t he supposed to hate me?” Jordan hissed back.

“He’s overcome by white guilt since his recent discovery that all the black and brown people who built and managed his family’s manor were not salaried employees,” I explained. “He’s dying to look as much of an ally as possible.”

Jordan straightened up. “Good job, freshie.”

“I haven’t even gotten started.” I painted a polite smile on my face. “Mr. Emerson, it’s so nice to meet you, can we bother you for a moment?”

Two guilty and three haughty donors later, Jordan and I found ourselves at a different table. It was the first time that I saw him smile that night.

“You were amazing out there,” Jordan exclaimed.

“Thank you but you also made my job a little easier being talented and whatever,” I joked.

“Seriously.” Jordan grabbed my hand. “You might have saved my ass.”

I tried to ignore the tingle that shot up from my hand into the side of my neck. “It’s okay, I’m happy to help.”

When they announced that the video was about to start Jordan sulked again. “I can’t believe they’re making us sit through this shit.”

“Me neither.” I rest my hand on top of his. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner but, are you okay?”

Jordan laughed humorlessly. “No but schmoozing with you did help a little. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.”

When we parted our separate ways, I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress skirt and approached my table. Fortunately, Mom and Dad had not burned down the ballroom with their arguing. In fact, when I got to their table, Mom was on her phone and Dad was rhythmically tapping his fingers against the tablecloth, looking anywhere but her.

“Hi, were you bored with me gone?” I asked, giving Dad a side hug.

“Not at all. I met a few board members and sold a few pictures,” he responded.

I nodded and slowly took the middle seat between them. The video was equal parts patronizing and infuriating. However, my parents’ whispers kept me from focusing too much on the video.

“Y/M/N, can you get off the phone for one second? They’re playing the video,” Dad hissed.

“I am about to cut the biggest deal of this quarter. They can send it,” Mom hissed back, waving a manicured hand for emphasis.

“Mom, people are starting to stare,” I quietly interjected.

“Let them stare. This is what’s paying for you to be here.”

“Don’t act like I don’t contribute!” Their words used to make me flinch but I forced myself to sit up straighter and breathe.

“I’m grateful for it, for both of you, really. You both paid to be here and I thought you would not want to miss the man they’re honoring,” I whispered.

Those words made Mom slowly mutter something into the phone before placing it face down on the table and leaning forward. At that same time, they flashed a picture of Brink and me across the screen. He had been meeting with my small group when the photographer appeared.

Dad squeezed an arm around my shoulder and I softly leaned into his touch.

“Thank God you lost that baby fat,” Mom commented.

“Y/M/N,” Dad said quietly.

“You know it’s true, Y/D/N,” Mom hissed back.

Suddenly, Dad’s arm felt like a boa constrictor, and I gracefully slipped out of its grasp. When the video ended, I drank a fresh flute of champagne. The bubbles instantly went to my head as I giggled at Dean Shetty introducing Marie.

She looked really pretty even though she was nervous.

“Do you know her?” Mom asked over the applause.

“We’re friends,” I replied.

“So why is she a guardian and not you?”

“She was more involved in stopping Luke than me,” I lied.

When Dean Shetty cued everyone to return to socializing, Mom turned to me.

“Your grades are fantastic and your standing in your house is good,” Mom began. “But eligible bachelors will not notice you unless you stand out like her.”

“Y/M/N, leave her alone. Anyone who doesn’t notice Y/N isn’t worthy of being in our family anyway,” Dad defended.

Mom ignored him. “That girl, Marie Moreau, is not your friend, she is your competition. You are in the prime setting to have everything you’ve ever wanted but she could snatch it from you. You’re supposed to be able to see things like this coming, Y/N.”

“I do see things coming and I know Marie wouldn’t do that to me,” I quipped.

At that moment, Mom’s eyes bore so deep into me that I didn’t think that anyone could claw them out. Her eyes looked like they were going to bug out of her head at any moment and I could feel my breathing pick up.

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out,” I promised.

It felt like forever until she leaned back in her seat and grabbed her phone.

“Make sure it doesn’t ‘slip out’ again. Now go socialize.”

“I need a minute, Mom, I’ve been socializing since we got here.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “This again.”

“What?”

“Y/M/N, please.”

“No, no, Y/D/N, she is constantly using, what, anxiety to get out of speaking to people. You are always too soft on her and make me look like the bad guy. I’m the one helping her be normal,” Mom snapped. “Anxiety didn’t exist when we were her age, we just did what we had to do, and look where we are now.”

I wondered if Emma ever felt as small as I did in that moment. Then, I wondered if she ever made herself small to hide from people, even her mom. Wordlessly, I left the table and tried to avoid any cameras as the tears burned in the corners of my eyes.

I tried to take deep breaths to calm my trembling chest and keep my throat busy. My chest shifted from trembling to heavy and I started looking around the room.

“I hear one piano…feel two fingers…smell three different alcohols…and see---”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Cate’s voice broke me out of my rhythm and I glanced to see her sitting with Marie and Jordan, who was in their feminine form.

My chest felt much lighter and I quickly wiped away my tears. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” Jordan called gently.

Cate pulled me into a hug and had me sit between her and Marie. “What happened?”

“My parents, well, my mom mostly. I guess I got too anxious for her, and she yelled at me,” I rambled.

Cate smiled softly. “Then you came at the perfect time. We were just talking about our horrible parents.”

My ears perked up. “Really?”

“Well, mine are dead,” Marie commented.

I turned to her and placed my hands on top of hers. “What? I’m so sorry. How did it…”

“I accidentally killed them with my powers,” Marie explained.

“That must have been horrible.”

Marie barely nodded and I squeezed her hands. “I just told my little brother to go away during a camping trip. He never came back and my mom pretty much locked me away,” Cate confessed. “I was seven.”

“What?” I whispered.

“I killed my grandpa with my powers,” Jordan interjected.

We all turned to her and I cocked my head to the side.

“No, you didn’t,” Cate countered.

Jordan smiled. “You’re right, I was feeling left out.”

I didn’t think that I could laugh the way I did but it felt so nice. At least I had friends again.

When I started sipping on the whiskey Cate stole, I saw a brief image flash before my eyes. There was a guy with curly brown hair covered in dirt running away from several bloody bodies. He paused for a moment and opened his hand, revealing a tiny sleeping Emma. When the vision left, Andre was standing in front of us.

“Seriously?” I complained before he even spoke.

#black!reader #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #limoreau x reader #marie moreau x reader

203 notes · View notes

loaksky · 1 year

Text

— 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘸𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦

the lowdown — the one where you and lo'ak are words apart, but not a thing can come between you.

the who — lo'ak x fem human!reader

the word count — 5.2k (could i even still call this a drabble i–)

the tags & warnings — perhaps some language, slight idiots-to-lovers (the signs are there and lo'ak is a dummy), reader is really sweet and just loves life hehe, arguably too much tension lmaooo

the notes — based off of this request! read more notes at the end!

masterlist

Something in the forest smells…off.

Against better judgment, Lo’ak tails it, ears twitching as he creeps through overgrown leaves and rustling foliage. His hand is on the hilt of his knife, eyes keen as he searches high and low for any shift or change in the terse atmosphere.

He’d wandered off, a little too far from where his father warned him the boundary lied, but there was a scent that clung to the trees, that slunk around his willowy figure and it belonged to no creature in the forests of Pandora.

It’s quiet, almost eerily so, the only sounds in the dense habitat is the pad of his feet against the grass and the chirping and croaking of the animals hidden among the trunks of trees and stems of flowers.

It’s like they’re watching, waiting, and Lo’ak’s heart begins to thud nervously in his chest as the scent strengthens like a haze.

I could turn back now, he reasons with himself. Because whatever lies ahead could be his very demise. It’d be a horrid way to go, alone and in the thickening brush.

But then he hears it. A voice so delicate and lilting, and like a sailor hooked by a siren’s call, he follows it, deeper and deeper. The trees begin to twine closer to each other, roots sprawling and the pathway overgrown.

Pandora is beginning to glow, the only indication that eclipse is drawing near now that the canopy of leaves overhead knit so close together, the sun can’t cut through to the ground.

It’s singing, he realizes. The voice is, but he can’t make out the words, a slurry of syllables and smooth melody that makes his eyebrows dip.

As he draws nearer, the voice becomes clearer and he’s stricken when the words he makes out aren’t in Na’vi. Like a predator hunting prey, Lo’ak crouches and moves the brush to the side to peer into the clearing, breath catching in his throat when he finds you, a peculiar little thing who sings as you hunch over something in your lap.

You’re angled away from him, but the sleeveless shirt you’re wearing shows earthy skin, so far removed from the blue Lo’ak’s been accustomed to seeing. The curls of your hair are unruly, piled high as neatly as you can to keep it out of your face.

His eyes are wide, finding a human so far from the camp established near his home. There’s something about how relaxed you are, your grace as you fiddle and hum like there aren’t dozens of predators on the prowl who could pounce at any moment, Lo’ak included. You can’t be with the enemy, it’s impossible, you’re too unaware and too soft.

And he can’t peel his eyes away, fingers wrapped around the handle of his dagger loosening as he watches you with bated breath.

After another moment of fiddling, you cheer quietly, triumphantly, as you hold up what you’d been tinkering with.

Lo’ak’s only seen one once before, one of those little film cameras that develop instantly. You point it towards a patch of grass and a split second of flash goes off before the mechanical whirring of the film feeding from the camera echos through the clearing.

It’s only when he moves forward for a better look that his rustling catches your attention. Your head snaps up, towards his direction and you’re brushing the strands of stubborn hair behind your ears as your eyes, big and round, survey the area.

“Hello?”

Lo’ak’s gaze flits over every curve of your face, eyes dipping to take in the swell of your cheeks, the expanse of your neck and the shoddy beadwork fastened around your throat.

He sizes you up as you stand to your feet, ratty gingham of your yellowed skirt swishing around your ankles.

“Hello?” you try again, hand coming up to a holster slung across your chest.

You unsheathe a knife so tiny, Lo’ak can’t help but snort out a laugh and your steps stutter when you make out the familiar blue whorls behind the flora.

Lo’ak’s severely underestimated his hiding spot, spine going rigid when he notices the way your eyes grow as big as saucers. He’s been found out and your jaw nearly unhinges.

“Whoa,” you whisper, sheathing the knife as you take a tentative step towards Lo’ak’s post.

He’s sure you can hear the way his heart thuds against the cage of his chest, know that he’s caught like a hideous game of cat and mouse.

Your movements are slow, calculated, as if anything sudden will spook Lo’ak away. But he’s rooted to his spot, eyes unblinking as he watches you close in on him. He waits, almost with anticipation as your fingers close around the leaf, a hairsbreadth from his nose, and move it out of the way to get a good look at his face.

For what seems like melding moments, you both are still, eyes searching and bodies frozen.

“Hi,” you squeak, throat bobbing.

Lo’ak is huge, shoulders broad and legs long as he squats before you. His lean muscles flex as he shifts in his spot, eyebrows furrowing a fraction as he takes you in before him.

You’ve got a flower stem tucked behind your other ear and he notes that your cheeks are red. But what’s more peculiar is the fact that you have no oxygen mask, seemingly breathing the dense air with ease.

“Hi,” he warbles, voice catching as you take another step forward.

One of your hands is outstretched, like you’re reaching to touch him, but like a flash of lightning in the sky, his fist closes around your wrist to stop you, jostling you with narrowed eyes. The other hand has pulled his dagger from his hip and the tip, razor sharp, is aimed towards your trachea.

“Sorry,” you breathe, swallowing down the knot in your throat. “I’ve never…”

You’re breathless, absolutely in awe at the boy who crouches before you.

You’d spent the latter half of your existence on Pandora watching the Na’vi from afar, opting instead to center your time and attention to the sprawling habitat of the forest. For years you documented the change in weather, the flora, the fauna. More seldom, you’d jot down the brief observations of the Na’vi you encountered, three instances you can count on your fingers.

You’d been enraptured with the moon, your home away from home. But as the memories of the dingy planet, decaying and falling to the greed of humans, continue to dull, all you seem to recall is the lush jungle.

“Who are you?” Lo’ak’s tone is accusatory. “What are you doing here?”

You’re stunned, his voice seemingly rumbling from deep within his chest. You wonder if his English is from a language school, but others from the small commune said that the last institution closed decades ago after an attack.

“________,” you introduce quietly, shakily, as the weapon pointed towards your throat doesn’t relent. “My name is ________.”

“Are you with the RDA?”

He has to be sure, watches every inch of your face for a tell.

Instead you look horrified at the idea.

“God no,” you shudder. “I would never.”

He lowers his knife, but doesn’t lose his edge.

“You can breathe without a mask,” he observes. “How?”

You’re still tense, frozen as you watch Lo’ak rise to his feet to tower over you. You barely reach his diaphragm and a ripple of fear slinks down your spine knowing that Lo’ak could crush you with no hesitation.

“Lab rat,” you admit, almost shamefully.

Before Lo’ak even knows what you’re doing, you’re lifting up the hem of your shirt to reveal a raised scar that travels across your abdomen, from bottom rib to bottom rib. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be looking at, just stares down at you as your pointer finger brushes over the fused flesh.

“The atmosphere in Pandora has enough oxygen for the average human to survive, but that survival factor is squashed by the amount of carbon dioxide in the air,” you say simply, like you’re reciting a fact. “Na’vi have an extra organ that acts as a filter to—”

You stop talking when Lo’ak blinks at you and you feel sheepish over your word vomit.

“Well…” you divert.

“Well what?”

“What about you?” you ask, scratching the back of your head.

“What about me?” Lo’ak asks uncomfortably, eyes flitting as he takes in the way you seem to light up.

You are so starkly out of place, but something in the way the forest melts around you makes him feel like this is where you belong.

“What is your name?” you ask, tilting your head.

He hesitates for a moment, but you look hopeful, excited.

He takes a step back, still wary despite dwarfing you.

“Lo’ak,” he answers skeptically.

You test the name on your lips, beaming up at him when he nods. When you advance upon him again, he doesn’t retreat, just reluctantly lets you circle his towering figure with wide eyes.

“You’re the first Na’vi I’ve seen up close,” you admit softly.

There’s adoration in your voice that makes Lo’ak shiver.

“You’re in the middle of nowhere,” he observes. “We don’t venture out this far.”

“Except for you,” you amend with a hum.

He’s used to being the exception, the sore thumb. His father always reminds him as such whenever he steps out of line, but coming from you, something in the way you acknowledge makes him feel like you can see right through him.

“Yeah, I guess,” he agrees.

Your hand reaches out to him, but you pause, finding his gaze unrelenting. He watches your every move.

“Can I touch you?” you ask gently.

“I mean…sure? I guess?” he forces out, throat suddenly hoarse.

Your palm presses into the smooth expanse of his abdomen and his stomach caves with a deep breath at the feeling of your fingertips brushing against his skin.

You grab his hands, turning them so that they’re palms up, and if possible, your eyes are comically larger than life when you count his five fingers.

“You have–”

He snatches his hand away from you, expression souring as he tucks them behind his back.

“I get it,” he gruffs. “It’s weird—”

You hold your hand out to him, so much smaller in comparison to his and offer him a weak smile.

“No,” you assure him softly. “It’s okay.”

He’s opening his mouth to say something, but the comm crackles to life in his ear and his father’s voice is grainy.

“Lo’ak, do you copy?”

He takes in a deep breath, pressing the button to speak into the air.

“Yes.”

“It’s getting dark,” is his father’s way of apologizing. “Be home soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Your eyes are still pinned to him as he straightens, taking another step back from you the survey the scene before him.

“Where are you…” your voice trails off as you watch him retreat.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” he warns you.

“But—”

“I’ll kill you.”

You don’t even flinch, climbing over the same branches and ducking over the same vines he does so with ease as he makes for the same path he’d taken there.

“Wait, Lo’ak!” you call out as he picks up the pace, unable to keep up with his hulking strides. “Will I see you again?”

He throws you a look over his shoulder, like you shouldn’t be so noisy, and you shrink, watching his form diminish in the glowing forest.

You count almost nine eclipses without Lo’ak, something heavy like river stones anchored to the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t been able to sleep much since your encounter with him, so fascinated with the glow of his eyes, the stripes of his skin, his extra finger.

He was all you could sketch in your journal, all you could write about, think about. After years and years of quiet, distant observation, of hearsay from the villagers, you’d finally seen a Na’vi, up close and personal, and you were aching to see him again.

You don’t know if Eywa had heard you, if she pitied your poor soul, but on the tenth morning, you sit in the same clearing when you hear rustling in the brush. It comes from the same little patch it had last time you were here alone, and when your gaze flits to the swaying foliage, you yelp when you find that Lo’ak hadn’t even tried to hide this time.

The smile that spreads across your face is sunny, blinding, as you climb to your feet and close the distance between the two of you.

“You’re back,” you observe happily, peering at him from head to toe, then you giggle. “I can’t believe you’re back.”

You’re looking at him like you’re looking for anything out of place since you’d last seen him and it makes him incredibly warm under such a brilliant gaze. When the pads of your fingers glide from his wrist to forearm, like you can’t believe he’s really standing right in front of you again, his tail involuntarily swishes.

“I thought you said Na’vi don’t really come out this far,” you tell him, taking a step away from him.

He finally breathes the air he’d been holding in his lungs.

“We don’t,” he agrees. “Except for me.”

Your grin widens, if possible, at the subtle implication that maybe he’d been thinking about meeting you as much as you thought about meeting him.

“Well…” you trail off, turning on your heel so that he doesn’t see the hope in your expression. “Is there a reason why you returned? Last time we saw each other you told me you’d kill me if I said anything.”

“Have you?” he retorts, unmoving from his spot.

“Never,” you say quietly. “Wanna keep you to myself.”

The words stun Lo’ak, make something twist in his stomach as you turn back around to face him.

“Where’s your family?” he pries, the courage the ask you all the questions that had culminated over the past week finally teeming at the brim.

“Don’t have much left,” you answer honestly, openly. “A lot of them didn’t survive the journey here. I only have my sister and my mother.”

Something akin to sympathy squeezes in his chest as he watches the way you fidget.

“And your village,” he presses. “Who all is there?”

“My own and four other families,” you reveal. “It’s not much, but we don’t really need a lot when we have such a vast forest to survive off of.”

He doesn’t know what to do with the information, still in awe that humans so far removed from the RDA and the scientists he’d grown up knowing take up residence in the very jungle he thought he knew like the back of his hand.

“Can they breathe like you?” he asks bluntly.

You blow out a small laugh, seemingly finding the interrogation amusing rather than intimidating if the way that you walk away from Lo’ak is anything to go by.

“No,” you tell him, returning to your station in the middle of the clearing.

You’ve got a blanket spread neatly on the grass, stacks of books and a rucksack pinning each corner down to keep the fabric semi-taut. You’d been reading through a book about the herbs on Pandora, the page still flipped to a beautiful bundle of petals and stems that resemble Earth’s baby’s breath.

You don’t realize that Lo’ak has followed you, standing half a meter away from your setting to observe your belongings, so tiny in comparison to the things back at camp. He pauses, weary like he’s crossing a threshold, but you lean forward, fingers grabbing his own to yank him gently.

He’s toppling onto the woven blanket, shifting comfortably like a baby touching grass for the first time when he feels the odd texture against his skin.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you admit to him, leaning back on your haunches as you shamelessly stare at him with that soft smile on your face.

“I was debating,” he whispers under his breath, eyes still wandering.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you remark simply, hands folded in your lap. “The first time around.”

“I could say the same for you,” he responds, gaze finally settling on your own.

You breathe another laugh, taking his hand in yours to compare the difference.

“Don’t think I could’ve even I tried,” you breathe, and something eases in Lo’ak at your acknowledgment that he has the upper hand.

But he doesn’t think he could hurt you. He wouldn’t. Not when you’re so soft and curious, and especially not when you insinuate that you’ve been waiting for him patiently.

“What do you do here, ________?” he asks you, genuine interest as he folds one long leg under the other to settled before you.

You shrug.

“Research, read, live,” you answer. “We left Earth with no real agenda. Just wanted to live a better life.”

Lo’ak skims your features.

“You like to swim?” he asks you, and you perk up.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Love it.”

“Good,” he says. “I know a place.”

The two of you become like polar opposites of a magnetic field, so drawn to the other, not a single thing could drive a wedge between the two of you.

Lo’ak can’t help it, not when you talk a million miles a minute about your love for life, for Pandora. Not when you first break the barrier and sit in his lap with a book, reading him your favorite children’s stories or blurbs that accompany the research materials you’d crafted from years of exploring the moon.

And he can’t just chalk it up to being able to see his home from your perspective, but being able to see the wonder that oozes from you when you see it from his. How in awe you are when he carries you on his back to climb the looming trees, seeing above the canopy of leaves for the first time since you touched down on the lush terrain. Or when you run your fingers over the spines of fish during your swims in the nearby streams, when you coo at the cubs of creatures that would otherwise devour you whole.

It doesn’t help that you take your life by the reigns, seemingly invincible after you divulge the entire story behind your scar. To know that they’d experimented on you, grown artificial organs, used you as a trial and then left you for dead after a seemingly failed test run. You live your life to the fullest, find no fear, but still tread with compassion.

You beguile Lo’ak, have him wrapped around your finger as the two of you teeter over a very fine line.

And your village sees it. No one has to utter a word to know that something, someone, has been occupying your attention these last few weeks. Humans are few and far in between, so they turn the other cheek, waiting until you feel comfortable enough to tell them that a certain native has captured your heart.

Lo’ak, on the other hand, toes his friendship with you with great caution. He slips through the cracks undetected, crossing the forest to see you when he can. He keeps it hush, locked tight like a vault, but his family knows better. Knows that if he’s not audacious in the way he’s causing trouble, he’s still stirring it up somehow.

Neteyam pounces first.

“Where are you going?” he asks, fingers tight around his younger brother’s shoulders.

“Out,” Lo’ak answers simply.

“Out?” Neteyam mocks, expression flat like he doesn’t believe him.

“Yes, out,” he reiterates, pulling his shoulder from his grasp. “I’ll be back.”

He’s paranoid on the way to you, taking a few detours in the case that his brother, the ever diligent and doting eldest, is tailing him. It weighs heavy on his mind even when he finally makes it to your corner of the jungle unfound.

“Does your village still not know about me?” he asks suddenly, one of the first words he’d uttered since settling behind you, large hands braiding your hair gently as you read quietly to yourself.

You look up from your book, spine straightening.

“No,” you answer honestly. “You told me not to and I honor your wishes.”

He’s silent for a moment before asking another question.

“How would they react?” he asks, starting another braid in hopes to quell the tremor in his fingers. “If they knew about me? About, you know…”

“I think they’d love you,” you say honestly. “Especially if they know you like I do.”

He’s putty in your hands and you don’t even know it. It makes his heart ache and stomach tie because he’s not so sure he could say the same. If his family, or his village, would welcome you with open arms like you say yours would.

“Why?” you ask, turning to face him.

He simply shrugs, doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s brimming with feeling. That the weeks, months he’s spent intermittently spending time with you makes him feel the most alive he has in years. And he especially doesn’t know how to tell you that even if he’s scared shitless, a part of him wants to try, wants to be with you if you’ll have him.

But he doesn’t know what your life is like back at your camp, doesn’t know if you have someone waiting for you. And what would his siblings think? His parents, if he told them he was falling for a—

“Would you like to?” you ask him, hand coming up to touch his face. “To meet them?”

“I mean…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck. “Could be nice to, you know, see where you—”

You’re staring at him so intently, he stops mid-sentence.

“But I couldn’t return the favor,” he says suddenly, biting the inside of his cheek as he watches the way your expression screws up in confusion.

“What do you mean?” you ask, taking his fidgeting fingers in yours.

“I wouldn’t be able to take you to meet my village,” he says in one breath. “It’s too risky. They’re not really fond of humans and—”

You squeeze his hands, a sad smile gracing your lips that makes his heart wrench.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you, Lo’ak,” you tell him. “I know what the dynamics are like, and rightfully so. Humans have taken a lot from you, from the people. It would be disrespectful to expect them to welcome me.”

He nearly melts, doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve someone like you in his life.

“You’re too good,” he whispers.

“When you’re ready,” you say softly. “If you’re ready, just tell me.”

Neither of you bring up his clan or your village again after that, just enjoy the moments that you spend with each other in the glittering jungle.

“Smile!” you coo, film camera held in both hands as you nestle back against his chest and aim the lens towards your huddled figures.

The motors whir and while you wait for the photograph to develop, you’re turning to face him. Your cheeks warm when you find that he’s already staring down at you, golden eyes soft and lips slightly parted.

“Have you ever listened to the radio?” you ask him, pinching the photo between your fingers to fan it through the air.

“Radio?” he parrots, pulling himself from his reverie.

“Yeah, it plays music,” you tell him. “Sometimes it broadcasts the news, but obviously we don’t get signal here.”

“News?” Lo’ak’s expression is pinched in confusion as you pull away from him and your laugh flutters through the air.

Your skirt pools around your figure when you crouch to rummage through your bag, items clinking and clunking together as you search for the battery-operated music player you smuggled from your friend’s family in the village.

“Here!” you call excitedly, pulling the red and blue player from where it's buried under one of your dozens of leaflets and rolls of film.

You pop the back open to make sure the batteries are still intact, the radiant grin spread across your full lips widening when you fiddle with the buttons and it creaks to life.

The tinny sound of Phil Collins starts playing from the weak little speaker, but you set it on top of a fallen tree trunk and take Lo’ak’s hands in yours.

“Let’s dance,” you giggle, moving in time to the beat of his drums.

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak calls, embarrassed. “I don’t really…”

“Oh, come on,” you prod, arms gliding through the air as your skirt twirls around you in tandem with the rhythm.

Lo’ak is mesmerized, swallowing down the knot in his throat as you dance like it’s the only thing you’ve ever done. Your movements are fluid, amateur, but makes his heart thrum violently nonetheless.

You sing along with the words, voice smooth and lilting as your feet pad against the grass.

The scene before him is picturesque against the eclipsing sun, your skin warm and dewy under the growing glow of the forest’s glimmer. He itches to capture this moment, freeze it in the frame of a photograph for his eyes only. So when your face arches skyward and you continue singing along with the quiet music, Lo’ak picks up your camera and snaps a clumsy picture.

“Hey!” you burst out laughing, rushing towards him just as the photo begins feeding out of the camera.

“What?” he whispers innocently, jerking the photo from your grasp when you try to reach for it.

“Stop,” you whine. “What if I look stupid?”

“You could never,” he hums, tucking the photograph in his woven satchel.

He knows there no going back from this, going back from you. The night you watch the stars seals his fate.

“There she is,” you croon triumphantly, pointing to the glowing orb.

You and Lo’ak are nestled high above in one of the tree branches. You’re bundled against him, your back to his chest with the warmth of his skin cocooning you as you both watch the slowly shifting sky.

“My dad came from a star,” he says after a pregnant pause, one that makes you lean your head back against his shoulder and play with the fingers splayed across your stomach.

“Really?” you whisper, watching as something flits across the midnight sky.

“Yeah,” he chuffs, other hand pointing eastward. “That one, right there.”

You squint, eyes straining as you try to make out the twinkling blurb.

“What’s he like?” you ask, knuckling the fatigue from your eyes.

“Who?” Lo’ak hums. “My dad?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “He must be pretty great if he raised someone like you.”

Lo’ak’s at a loss for words, can't admit that while he thinks his dad’s incredible, that all he wants in life is to be like him, he’s not sure if his father feels quite the same. If the disappointment in his gaze and the stone in his voice is anything to go by every time Lo’ak fucks up and gets lectured, he could argue that his father’s efforts to rear a good man have gone in vain.

“Something like that,” he opts to say, cheek nuzzling against yours as you shift further into his hold.

“And your sisters?” you prod, pinkie linking with his.

He’s silent for a moment before a small smile stretches across his lips.

“I think they’d like you,” he says sincerely. “You remind me of both of them, actually, so I think that if you were to ever meet them, they’d love you.”

Like I do, he wants to add.

You hum in response and he can tell you’re getting tired with the way you’ve fallen slack and completely relaxed against him.

“And…your mom?” Your words are coming out slowly, like you’re fighting against sleep and losing.

“She’s amazing,” he says softly. “She’s sacrificed a lot and–”

A long, steady puff of air blows from your nose and Lo’ak shifts a little to see that your eyes have fluttered closed and you’ve pulled the shawl you’d brought with you tighter around your shoulders.

Lo’ak’s always felt that lingering feeling that you could feel it, too. You had to. You wouldn’t wait for him before every eclipse, let him hold you, let him treat you like he loves you if you didn’t.

He gets his answer on a random afternoon in your clearing.

You had bound a thin journal, scrawled your names on it, and now you were in the middle of pasting a picture of you and Lo’ak in the stream to the section you titled Adventures.

“Have you ever been in love?” Lo’ak asks crassly, then clears this throat, backtracking a little to save face. “Like on Earth…or…”

“I was ten when I left home,” you chuckle, flipping to a fresh page.

You start setting leaves and petals against the paper, arranging photographs of you and Lo’ak on various excursions.

Lo’ak swallows.

“So never?” he asks.

You pause your crafting to lean back on your haunches, peering at him through your lashes with the glue brush still in your hand.

“Why?” you deflect.

He fiddles with one of the flowers on the page, shrugging his shoulders.

“Just curious,” he murmurs.

“No,” you answer honestly, after a moment. “I haven’t.”

He nods.

“Do you think you will?” he prods, busying himself with thumbing through the dozens of pictures the two of you have amassed through your time together.

You watch him closely, see the way his ears are flat and his tail thumps quietly against the forest floor. You can’t help but smile when he glances over the top of one of the photos to peek at you.

“It’s very possible,” you respond coyly, picking at a piece of lint on your skirt.

Lo’ak goes rigid, dropping the photos in his lap to look at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“There is someone,” you say seriously, willing the grin creeping at the corner of your lips to relax as you search Lo’ak’s expression for any fissures. “Someone who’s become quite special to me.”

Lo’ak wants to roll his eyes, but you light up and he can’t find it in himself to be ugly.

“All he has to do is say the words,” you whisper, closing the contents of the journal in on itself as you ease closer to him.

He’s sitting with his legs folded one into the other, but you’re eye level as you stand on your knees. One of your hands move a braid behind his ear, settling on his shoulder as the other traces his cheek softly.

Something like hope sizzles in his stomach when he sees how close you are, when he smells the sweet aroma of fruit and herbs in your hair as you inch forward.

“Do you think he will?” he swallows, breath warm against your lips.

Your nose brushes his, waiting for the final plunge.

“I don’t know, Lo’ak, will you?”

A smile grows from ear to ear as Lo’ak leans forward, lips slotting against yours as he seals every last bit of emotion and affection that pools in his gut into a kiss that takes his breath away.

His hands settle on your waist, thumb brushing your scar as you climb into his lap and he pulls you closer.

He doesn’t see the woodsprite that settles on your shoulder as he kisses you feverishly, a silent sign from the Great Mother that being worlds apart will never transcend what the two of you have.

Differences be damned.

an; okay WHEW this one was actually such a challenge! i grappled with wanting to include angst, but i feel like a lot of my writing veers in that direction, so i decided to gift you guys with lo’ak and reader who are in love despite the odds hehehe. although i consider this a long drabble, i do have a lot of cut scenes that i’d be willing to share to turn this into a mini drabble series *side eye* lmaooo. love you all <3

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e, @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts , @athenachu

#lo'ak x reader #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak fanfiction #lo'ak fic #lo'ak fluff #lo'ak sully #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar the movie #avatar the way of water #atwow #avatar 2

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a-god-in-crime-alley · 1 year

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DPxDC prompt #1

(Or baby’s first fic prompt that’s more of a ficlette. It’s going under the cut because it ended up longer than a prompt. Sorry.)

Jazz is reincarnated in the DC Universe. Her new family is no longer in the picture and she doesn’t remember her past life at all. She ends up taken in by the League of Assassins. She is named Yasmina.

She grows up there, learning to be a skilled fighter and trains to be Talias bodyguard. Sometimes she helps protect baby Damian, even though she is only a teenager.

She grows up to be a tall girl with a strong build. Not willowy like Talia. She still has red hair but it’s darker now and naturally violet eyes because of a latent meta gene.

Talia eventually switches her to helping Jason during his training, acting as a go between. She occasionally has Yasmina spar with Jason to gauge how his training is going. The two teens get close, Talia sees this as a chance to manipulate Jason. She encourages Yasmina to pursue her interest in Jason, and encourage Jason to do the same.

(Talia is also kind of hoping Jason decides not to leave because she’s started to think of him as her own. Son, apprentice, just something intrinsically hers. She doesn’t want to give him back to her Beloved. She’s also seeing a bit of herself and Bruce in Yasmina and Jason. It’s nostalgic, but painful. She kind of wants them to have a better end than her.)

Yasmina and Jason end up spending a lot of time together. Feelings get stronger. They find a kind of happiness in each other for a time. It might be love blooming.

Then Jason’s training comes to an end. He still chooses to return to Gotham. Yasmina’s heart is broken, but when she looks in his eyes she knows Gotham is his first love. He’s just as Talia described The Bat to her, on one of her vaguely vulnerable days. Too determined. Too focused. The mission will always come first, even as he says he’s nothing like his father.

They fall into bed for the first time, desperate with the knowledge that they might never see each other again; And if they do, it might be as enemies. She sends him off with memories of her, and he ends up leaving something behind unintentionally.

That’s right, Yasmina is pregnant. But she doesn’t know that for a while. She hardly has any symptoms and miraculously, no miscarriage during all her training and any fights she gets into in that time.

Until her luck runs out.

She takes a killing blow for Talia, and earns her first dip in the Lazarus Pit. She goes in complete loyal to the League, she comes out with her memories as Jazz Fenton, and the soul of Danny inhabiting her unborn child.

She gets a medical check up after her Lazarus Spa day and look at that! Pregnant! Talia is kind of having flash backs. At least when She got pregnant and sent Bruce away, she Knew she was sending away the father of her child.

Talia helps Yasmina through her pregnancy and with the care of the baby; all with the understanding that this child will become Damian’s right hand. A couple years pass. Damian has gone to live in Gotham, and now 5 year old Danny (who kind of remembers his past life) is showing sighs of having suspiciously Lazarus water adjacent powers. Ra’s is getting nosy, uh oh. So Talia sends Yasmina away to Gotham.

Armed with the knowledge of her past and the skills of her present, Yasmina is determined to introduce her son to his father. Weather or not Jason will help convince The Bat to let them stay is another matter.

She also has to deal with her dip in the Lazarus pit activating her meta gene. Now she has her own Liminal powers to deal with on top of Danny’s ghost powers resurfacing.

(I know that was long. I know it’s practically a fic. I have no intention of writing more myself. If you want to, go ahead. But Tag me please I want to read a fic like this. This premise has been swimming in my brain like soup for days.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #anger management ship #Jazz is reborn in the Leage of Assasins #Assassin Jazz #Danny is her son this time #and Jason is the father #lol. he got damian’d #free to good home #just tag me and give credit if you pick it up #jason todd #jasmine

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yourclownpal · 2 years

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Hi hi hi willowy and penny(@brocolibun ) comic thingy because they r silly!!!! (Also mention of Sara made by @sporesgalaxy )

#my art #reblogs > likes #digital art #sexyman descendants #creepypasta slenderman #slenderman #willowy tag #pennywise #creepypasta #it movie

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pastshadows · 4 months

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Shadows of the Past

Chapter 3: Escape & Evade

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.7K

Content: Explicit 18+ - [Intended for mature audiences]

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

The forest is dim and obscured by a thick, opaque fog. You’re running through it in nothing but your night dress. The viscid milky haze parts around you as you advance, ducking and dodging around thick trees and willowy branches. The cool air is damp, leaving a sheen of clamminess veiling your skin. Your eyes search frantically through the dense foliage.

A profound sense of dread grips you, and tears stream down your reddened cheeks. You’re trying to scream, but your throat is tight, and sound can’t escape your constricting esophagus.

You catch the faintest glimpse of him before he disappears into the dense, chalky vapour like a ghost.

You try to call out to him as you swiftly change directions. Your bare feet skid on the soggy forest floor. Your muscles tighten and twist instinctively, and you regain your failing balance. When your feet finally find purchase, you launch forward. Sharp stones and sticks bruise, scrap, and cut the soles of your feet. Branches batter at your face, pull at your hair and gouge your satiny skin.

He’s not here.

You turn rapidly, wet hair sticking to your face, and your eyes scan the trees again. Your breath comes in heavy, rapid gulps. The muscles in your legs twitch and tremble with over-exertion.

You catch slight movement in your peripheral vision. Spinning, you sprint as fast as your fatigued legs can carry you.

I have to be quicker.

Gritting your teeth, you bolster yourself and try to force your body to accelerate.

You spot him briefly before he turns and disappears behind a tree.

“Astarion!”

You finally find your voice, and it rings deafeningly, echoing in the murky night air.

“Astarion, please! Don’t go!”

He stands still momentarily.

“I’m here.”

His lips don’t move, and his voice sounds oddly far away. He slowly backs off and dissipates into the thick, pasty air.

Your lungs burn with anguish you have never known. You whirl around, squinting your eyes, trying to peer into that dense pale haze.

Movement.

You push your body forward with all that’s left of your energy. Your muscles seethe ferociously, and your heart feels like it’s about to explode in your chest cavity.

You hurtle out of the thick forest to a clearing with a sharp cliff face that drops off into nothingness. Your breath wheezes as you inhale raggedly, trying to devour the air.

Astarion stands at the precipice, vibrant crimson eyes staring at you with a happy smile.

You catch the first glimmer of the golden rays of light brightening the sky behind him.

“Astarion, no! I’m begging you, please!”

The sun breaches the horizon, the brilliant glowing sphere rising fast.

Much too fast.

Astarion’s skin starts to turn grey, crack and fissure.

“Don’t go. Please, don’t leave me!”

He doesn’t move, that unsettling happy smile is still worn on his lips as he begins to dissolve into ash, being carried away by the wind.

You scream at the top of your lungs, “Astarion!”

“Wake up, my love. I’m here.”

Wake up?

“Wake up.”

Launching your eyes open, you surge upright in a cold sweat. Your heart pummels against your ribs and thrums in your ears. Tears cascade in salty streams down your cheeks.

A cool hand touches your face, cradling it, gently directing your gaze towards familiar crimson eyes bathed in candlelight.

“Easy, darling. It’s just a dream.”

“Astarion?” You gasp breathlessly.

You throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your entire body trembles with the remnants of the nightmare. Astarion wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. His hand comes to the back of your head.

“I’ve got you, my love.” He whispers, “I’ve always got you.”

Desperate sobs wrack your quivering body as you bury your face into his shoulder, and your chest heaves with rapid, shallow breaths.

“Deep breaths, my dear. With me.”

Of course, Astarion doesn’t need to breathe, but he still can, even if it is not required. He would often breathe to keep up appearances purely out of habit. Cazador had forced his spawn to breathe off palace grounds while hunting their marks so they didn’t raise any suspicions, and it was a habit that he hadn’t been able to shake.

His chest begins to move under you as he inhales slow, deep breaths. He pulls you even tighter to him so you can feel it well.

“In and out, with me.”

You try to sync your breaths with his as best you can.

The door swings open, and Gale shouts, “What did you do now, Astarion?”

“A nightmare.”

“Another one?” He relaxes with a sigh, “They’ve been near-constant since she got here.”

Astarion’s jaw tenses slightly, and he starts rubbing your back with slow, comforting circles.

“I’ve got this, Gale.”

Gale bows shallowly, “I suppose you do. I’ll be in my room if you have need of me.”

“Gale?”

Gale glances at Astarion, “Yes?”

“Thank you for… for taking care of her.”

A small smile creeps across Gale’s face, “Of course, my friend. Anytime.”

The door closes, and you’re left sobbing into Astarion’s shoulder. As the nightmare fades from your mind, so does the intensity of your sobs, and you eventually untangle yourself from around his neck.

Astarion wipes the last remaining tears streaking down your cheeks away with his finger, “How long has this been going on?”

You glance away from him, unable to meet that penetrating glare, “A while.”

“How long?”

You shrug, “Does it matter?”

“It does to me.”

Your shoulders slump, “Does it?”

He left me.

Sadness clouds the sculpted planes of his features, and his brows pull down slightly. He reaches out and slips the strap of your night dress back up your shoulder, such a small gesture but so full of compassion and humility.

“I’m sorry. That was unfair of me.”

Astarion looks at his hands, “I had it coming.”

“No, I-”

He cuts you off, “Apology accepted. There’s no need to speak more on the subject right now.”

“How did you know?”

Please tell me I wasn’t screaming in my sleep this time.

His eyebrow cocks, “Know what?”

“That I was having a nightmare.”

“Darling, you were positively screaming my name, and not in the delicious way I want you to be screaming it.”

Fuck.

You groan and cover your face with your hands as you feel your heart leap again. A muffled laugh escapes his lips, and he sweeps the hair clinging to your wet cheeks behind your ear.

“Sorry about your shirt.”

He smirks, “Don’t worry about it, my dear. I am well acquainted with all of your fluids. Although, I would have preferred happy tears, but beggars, choosers, and all that.”

A small giggle rumbles in your throat.

“There’s my girl.”

Astarion always knew how to make you feel better, and he seldom failed to do so, even when you were at your lowest.

“You should get some rest. You do look terrible.”

You huff at him, exasperated. He slips off the bed, and you’re suddenly terrified to let him go, so you quickly grab a handful of his shirt.

“Please, don’t go. Stay with me?”

Your tone is more pleading than you would like, and your voice shakes with the unmistakable declaration of fear.

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

You can feel the tears start to well up in your eyes again. You have perpetually relived losing him in your nightmares time and time again. You will never admit it to him aloud, but you need him now.

“Okay, darling. Since you asked so nicely.”

You get up and close the shutters of your bedroom window and pull the drapes shut tight, making sure absolutely no sunlight would be able to filter in. The last scenes of the dream drift through your mind, making you shudder noticeably.

Astarion looks at you with a cocked brow but doesn’t comment further on your strange behaviour. You crawl back into bed, and he slides in easily beside you. He stays above the covers, and you whimper at the barrier between you.

He tucks you in and lays flat on his back, his hand behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Astarion?”

He shifts, rolling over and turns towards you. His face rests on the pillow just inches from yours. Astarion’s crimson eyes drift to your lips with a longing look before meeting yours.

“Yes?”

You can feel your rationality starting to slip. He’s here, right in front of you, so close you can almost feel the chill of his skin and smell that signature scent. His presence is intoxicating.

I’m home.

You sweep his silvery-white curls behind his ear and leisurely run your fingers along the silky skin of his jaw. You search his face for any signs of discomfort but find none.

I should stop.

Astarion runs his thumb tenderly along your bottom lip. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your eyes lock with his. You give him a heated stare, drawing him in. Your heart picks up its pulsing rhythm, and arousal spreads like a liquid flame between your legs.

But it’s been so very long.

His scarlet eyes are half-lidded in a sultry gaze, and you bite your lower lip in anticipation. He leans forward, closing the distance between you, but hesitates when his lips ghost over yours. A moan escapes you at his delicious proximity, and that’s all he needs to spur him on. A low growl vibrates in his throat as his lips meet yours with a hungry fervour.

All rational thought dissolves as he sends your senses spiralling. The coolness of his soft lips on yours, his fingers on the back of your neck, while his thumb sweeps affectionately across your cheek. He is like a black hole, and you’re dragged in, being consumed by him.

His expertly parts your lips, and you sigh, relishing him, soaking in his familiar taste. His tongue explores your mouth, sending waves of pleasure rocketing through you. Every nerve in your body hums, and you drink him in. Your hands grip handfuls of his shirt, and you tug it free from the waist of his trousers. The intensity of his mouth on yours deepens, his tongue teasing and dancing with yours.

The world drops away, and it’s only you and him in this moment of feral passion.

You’re embarrassingly wet, and your clit pulses in tempo with the drumming of your heart. You squeeze your thighs together in a hopeless effort to relieve the intensity of the yearning throb between your legs. A small smile tugs at his lips, and a sonorous, visceral groan resounds in his chest.

He knows. He always knows.

He runs his fingertips up your spine, and you arch your back instinctively. The coolness of his fingers on your heated skin sends a jolt running through you, and you sigh at the sensation of his touch. Your hand desperately squeezes the sculpted muscles of his side.

He bucks his hips into you with a growl, and even through the blankets keeping you apart, you can feel his erection jutting into you, straining against his trousers.

You’re all instinct, passion and desire. You want him, all of him, right now. The longing ache of your clenching core begs for his hard length, and you whimper at your emptiness, hungering to be filled. Your hand falls to the outside of his trousers, brushing his bulging erection.

With a hiss, he breaks off the kiss and jumps out of the bed.

No, no, no, no, no.

“Astarion?”

Astarion squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw clenches, and you recognize that look immediately. You took it too far, allowing your passion and arousal to cloud your judgment.

“Astarion, I’m so sorry.”

“Hush, darling. A moment, if you please.”

Well, this answers one question I had.

You wait for him to collect himself in an awkward silence. His body slowly relaxes, and his eyes finally open to meet yours.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha-”

He cuts you off, “This is not your doing. The blame is not your burden to bear.”

“I’m still sorry.”

You know your next question is selfish and one you shouldn’t ask of him, but it spills from your mouth before you can stop it.

“Will you still stay? Tonight, I mean.”

“I’m not sure if I should…”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, pulling your knees to your chest.

“Right.” You shake your head, trying to part the arousal obscuring your thoughts, “Yes, of course. I understand.”

He turns towards the door, and his hand rests on the handle. The muscles in his forearm tense and relax as he stands there pensively. Astarion glances at you sitting in your bed and his hand drops from the door.

“Move over.”

Move over?

You look at him, and your eyebrows pull down as you attempt to figure out what he means. He comes towards you, and it dawns on you.

You shake your head vehemently, “No, Astarion. Don’t do something you’re not comfortable with.”

You are more than used to him pushing himself to do things he didn’t want to. He had learned to say no and mean it, for the most part. Enforcing his boundaries had always proven to be a challenge when it came to you.

No matter how often you tried to nudge him to tell you what he needed, he consistently kept it from you. It meant you had to try and read his mind, which was a formidable hurdle all on its own.

He observes you with a defiant glower, “Move over.”

With a gentle shove, he nudges you to the other side of the bed and settles himself back beside you.

“Astarion, you don’t have to stay. I shouldn’t have asked. It was selfish of me.”

“I’m fine. Truly.”

You eye him with a probing gaze, looking for all his usual signals that he’s discomforted. As you examine him intently, he glances at you and giggles. It’s an adorable sound and eases the tension that thickens the air and the knot in your stomach.

“You can stop stripping me bare with your eyes anytime, darling.”

Your face twists into a scrutinizing glare, “If I could trust you to tell me the truth, I wouldn’t have to strip you with my eyes.”

Astarion shakes his head at you with a sly smile, “Far be it from me to deny you what your heart desires most.”

Ugh.

“You said you didn’t want to stay. You should return to your room if that’s how you feel.”

“I’m quite comfortable, actually.” He makes a show of further settling into bed, in his usual resting position, “You’ll have to force me to leave if that’s what you truly want. You can cast Telekinesis, no? Throw me out if you wish.”

He closes his eyes, and his face relaxes in a serene expression.

Your eyes roll so hard you swear you can nearly see the back of your head, “You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told, darling.”

You grunt your exasperation and make a dramatic show of rolling over, effectively ignoring him.

Astarion merely snickers at your theatrical performance, “Sleep tight.”

Your eyes peel open slowly. Your vision is still fuzzy, with the remnants of sleep clouding them.

A familiar, comfortable weight blankets your body, and you roll over. Astarion is resting peacefully beside you. His arm is slung over you in an embrace you have not known for some time. His eyes crack open with your movement, and he groans tiredly.

“Well, hello.” Astarion’s scarlet eyes are still heavily lidded with the residue of his trance leisurely dispersing.

“You stayed all night?” You can’t hide the surprise in your voice.

You had expected him to sneak out as soon as he detected the tranquillity of a deep trance overtaking you.

“I suppose I did.”

His voice is deep, saturated with sleepiness, but carries a hint of astonishment.

He wasn’t planning on staying all night.

He clears his throat, “You were positively thrashing about all night. You only settled when I held you. How could I leave?”

Was I?

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, beautiful.”

Glancing toward the window, you see only the hints of sunlight permeating the edges of the heavy curtains shielding the room.

You vaguely recall the nightmare.

Astarion’s pristine ivory skin split apart in glowing fissures.

The half smile on his lips as he dissolves into ash.

The wind that swept past carrying his remains.

You cringe inwardly, trying to force the images from yourself. Your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of your hunger.

Astarion undrapes himself from you and turns onto his back, “Gale is making breakfast.”

“Oh…”

You can’t hide the disappointment in your voice, and Astarion lets out a loud laugh.

“Don’t tell me the wizard's cooking still hasn’t improved. He’s got a whole kitchen at his disposal now!”

You suppress a low laugh but don’t bother answering him. He can surely smell whatever Gale is cooking, and, more than likely, he can tell that the quality of Gale’s cuisine hasn’t improved too much.

You roll out of bed with a shiver and throw on your robe.

“Remember, the upper floors are not curtained.” You remind him as he watches with you with a fixed intensity.

“Dually noted, my dear. Who is up there anyway? I can hear someone pacing about.”

“Gale’s mother lives up there.”

Astarion shoots upright in bed, laughing hysterically.

“The wizard still lives with his mother?!” The amusement dances over his face, “Why am I not surprised?”

You click your tongue in disapproval, imitating him, “Astarion, don’t get any smart ideas.”

He cocks his eyebrow at you in a devious, snake-like expression, “Oh, darling,” his hand goes to his mouth melodramatically, “I would never dream of mocking him… much.”

You shoot him a warning scowl.

“Fine!” He throws himself back to a lying position, “I shan’t mention it.”

“Good. You better not.”

His eyebrow cocks, “Is that a threat?”

“Do you want it to be?”

He looks at you suggestively, “Depends. What would be my punishment for disobedience?”

“Astarion!” You scold him.

“You’re no fun.”

He hops out of bed and straightens his wrinkled clothing, tucking his shirt back in, “I’ll see you later?”

You nod in agreement as he walks to the door. He hesitates before opening it, looking at you to see if you’re appropriately dressed.

Astarion opens the door and peers down the hall. No doubt checking that no rays of sunlight snuck through the heavy curtains. When satisfied that he’s safe, he winks at you and strides down the hallway, vanishing into his dark room.

You waltz down the stairs with more energy than you can recall having in years despite the dreadful nightmare. The manor is usually brightly lit at this time of day, and the darkness takes you by surprise for a second.

The joys of living with a vampire again.

You give Tara a chin rub before heating some water and making yourself some fresh mint tea.

“Good morning, Gale. Would you like some tea?”

You faintly remember seeing his concerned face last night through your blurry vision.

Did Astarion actually thank Gale, or was I still dreaming?

Gale smiles, “I would love some, thank you. I made breakfast. Help yourself."

You look at the soupy porridge and decide to change the subject.

“Thank you for coming to check on me last night.”

“Always.” He hesitates, “Although it seems our nocturnal friend got there before I.”

Your stomach knots slightly at the intonation of his voice. He sounds a little disappointed that he hadn’t gotten there first.

“You can’t compare yourself to him, Gale. He can hear a rummaging mouse a mile away. He likely heard the second my heartbeat started to pick up.”

Gale chuckles slightly, leaning back in his chair while you put the mug of hot, steaming tea down in front of him.

With the mention of mice, Tara peeks out from behind her fluffy tail, “The vampire better not hunt my mice!”

The aggravation in her voice is tangible, and you snicker.

Astarion’s voice echoes through the halls from his bedroom, “I don’t eat vermin!”

Gale’s eyes widen, and he leans in, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Can he really hear that well?”

“Yes, Gale. I hear everything.”

Gale’s eyebrows shoot up, wrinkling his forehead, and he flushes red, looking sheepish.

I don’t even want to know.

You bring your tea to your lips to hide your amused smile.

Gale’s eyes drift to the floor, “Well, that’s certainly disconcerting.”

You reach out and quickly pat his forearm comfortingly, “Don’t worry, you get used to it… eventually.”

Your fingertips plod along the rough spins of the old books stacked on shelves from the floor to the high, ornately carved ceiling in the library.

Candlelight flickers around the room, and dancing shadows caress the walls. Gale’s collection of rare tomes and books was impressive. You have spent many days and nights curled up in here.

Picking a leather-bound book, you sit on the plush couch, curling your legs up under you, and lose yourself in the story.

You feel Astarion sit beside you on the couch before you hear him, “Do you have nothing better to do all day than sit in the dark and read by candlelight?”

“What exactly did you imagine I do all day, Astarion?”

“Oh, I don’t know, darling. Skip merrily about in the sun looking for kittens, puppies and children who need a hero to save them?”

You scoff at him, “My hero days are behind me.”

I was never a hero.

“Finally, some good news!”

You give Astarion’s leg a nudge with your foot in response to his pretentious tone, and he smirks happily at you. Astarion looks around the library scrutinizingly.

“The wizard has quite an impressive collection.” He shoots you with his best warning glower, “Don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

You smile and wink, “Your secret is safe with me.”

Astarion slides his hand across the cushioned seat, and his pinky brushes against your bare foot. Keeping your eyes on the page, you gently nudge his finger in reply. He beams, and his cool hand envelopes you, his thumb pressing firmly into your sole, massaging it.

Your eyes drift closed at how good it feels. Your heartbeat kicks up a notch, and you sharply inhale. A devious, haughty half-smile quirks the corner of his mouth up, and his crimson eyes shimmer provocatively.

“Are we going to talk about last night?”

You shake your head, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I beg to differ, my dear.”

“Let me rephrase that then. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He sags into the couch, leaning back, staring straight at the ceiling. His thumb still skillfully massages the sole of your foot.

He sighs, “There was a time when you would talk to me about anything.”

You slam the book closed and pull away from him, jumping off the couch, “Yes, there was, and then you fucking abandoned me in the dead of night!”

Gale walks in with his book in the crook of his arm, “Sorry. Am I interrupting?”

“Yes,” Astarion says sharply.

“No, I was just leaving.”

Gale’s eyes shift between you and Astarion scrutinizingly.

A disarming smile widens on his face, “If you’re going into the city, would you mind if I joined you? I have a shipment of rare books that needs collecting. If it wouldn’t trouble you too much, I could use some assistance carrying them. I may have overdone it a touch.”

“Of course, Gale. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Lovely!” He bows, “I’ll fetch my boots, and we can be on our way.”

You slide your book back into its spot on the shelf and head toward your room.

Astarion’s voice drifts hauntingly out of the dim room, “You can’t run from this forever.”

I know.

You wind through the high lacquered shelves of Blackwell's Fine Books and Good Tomes while Gale speaks to Mr. Blackwell. It smells pleasantly of sandalwood incense with a slight hint of vanilla. The light in here is dim. Closed shutters garnish the windows to keep the sun’s bleaching rays off the rare texts.

You’ve been here before with Gale when you were searching for books, tomes or any documents relating to vampirism. You never stopped searching for a cure, even after Astarion left.

“It’s nice to see you again, Saer.”

“Good afternoon, Aldous. How are you?”

Mr. Blackwell’s son assisted in the shop from time to time. Aldous had been intrigued by your rather odd fascination with vampires. He had agreed to keep an eye out for anything that may be of interest to you. He was mostly pleasant and well-mannered but obviously born of privilege.

“I’m well, thank you. Looking for more information on vampires? I’m sorry to say we have not received anything new on the subject.”

“No, I’m just here with Mr. Dekarios today.”

“Ah, yes, he had us procure quite the shipment.” His eyes slink over you in a way that makes your stomach churn, “My Father and Mr. Dekarios tend to gossip for quite a while. Perhaps I could interest you in a drink? The Tavern of the Flagon Dragon is not far from here, and I’m sure my father would not want our esteemed guest to be bored.”

Esteemed guest? Spare me.

“No, thank you, that’s quite alright.”

He gives you a haughty look. He was an attractive man from noble money, and you expect he doesn’t get rejected often. His mouth twists into a wicked grin that makes your palms heat up, ready to defend yourself, but it’s gone almost as soon as it was there as he reins in his expression.

“Saer, there’s no reason for us to be dulled out of our minds listening to the languor musings of these two fine gentlemen. It would be my treat, my lady.”

No never means no to the noble class.

“I said no.”

The intonation in your voice is a little coarser than you meant it to be, but you try to plaster on a smile, feigning indifference to his repeated attempt to persuade you.

“Of course. I did not mean to offend.”

His words roll off his tongue in a pleasant and apologetic tone, but his eyes and body language tell you differently. His hand is squeezed into a fist at his side, and his jaw is clenched so hard you’re surprised his teeth haven’t started splitting.

You can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself.

Someone needs to teach this arrogant arse some humility.

You beam a grin at him, “Of course you didn’t. I best check on Mr. Dekarios. It was nice to see you again, Aldous.”

He gives you a shallow, rigid bow, “Saer.”

You stride away confidently, but you can feel the man’s indignant stare boring into the back of your head. It sends a shiver down your spine as if your body is alerting you to a lurking threat.

As you approach, Gale looks at your cross expression and blanches.

“Well, Mr. Blackwell, I best be going. Thank you again for the chat and your hard work obtaining these for me.”

By the look of the small chest, it’s not even a large shipment, but you already knew that. Gale would never ask you out to carry his things for him. He would use magic to do the heavy lifting as he always did.

Gale leans close as you depart the store, “You look rather sour. What happened?”

“Noble hubris knows no bounds.”

Gale chuckles, “Young Aldous, I take it?”

Exasperated at the interaction, you nod, “The man can’t accept no for an answer.”

“My friend, I have no doubt you will teach him the meaning eventually.”

“Someone has to. Gale, what did you really want to do out here? That’s not nearly enough books to require both of our fine magical talents.”

“Things seemed… tense. I thought it best to get you out for some air before you burned down my library.”

You laugh and wait for him to continue. You know what’s coming next.

“And I was hoping we could have a chat. Far away from overly sharp vampiric ears.”

There it is. The real reason Gale asked to join me.

You nod, “I was wondering when you were going to bring this up. Come on, let’s find somewhere to sit.”

You and Gale sit on a stone bench near The Lady Dreaming, one of many enormous statues you could find throughout the city. The sun is hanging low in the sky as night prepares to extinguish its golden light.

“Well, my friend, how are you holding up?”

Running your fingers through your hair to get it out of your face, you look at him with sad, downturned eyes, “I’m a mess.”

“Quite the unforeseen turn of events, eh?”

“I thought he was gone for good, Gale.” You sigh, “I gave up this fantasy. I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I’m not sure anyone could have prepared for this, my friend. Be gentle with yourself.”

Gale’s hand gives your shoulder a light squeeze, and his brows knit together with worry.

Fidgeting with your hands, you give Gale a woeful expression, “What am I going to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

Be his again.

You shake your head, “I don’t know.”

“You still love him, yes?”

“Always.” Your voice comes out in a whisper as if admitting a secret.

“Then what makes you hesitate? I have seen you run headfirst into far greater danger with far less favourable odds.”

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive him.” You pick at your hands in your lap, “Much less trust him again.”

“You’re still angry with him.”

You rise from the stone bench so suddenly it makes Gale jolt and scan the surroundings for danger, a behaviour remaining from your adventuring days that has never gone away. You pace back and forth, your boots slapping loudly on the paved stone ground.

“You’re Gods damned right I am!” How could he do that? How could he just so easily leave, as if I was nothing as if we were nothing?! After everything we had been through… how could he…”

The flash fire of your rage fizzles out just as quickly as it spawned into life, and your heart suddenly feels heavy and sinks in your chest. Tears brim in the corners of your eyes, escaping the prison you had locked them in.

Gale pulls you into a friendly, comforting hug, “You know, I only ever truly like Astarion when he’s not talking.”

You pull out of the hug and laugh. Gale’s hands rest on either side of your shoulders.

He continues, “But, and I do hate to admit this, it’s obvious that he cares for you deeply. Have you spoken to him about how you feel? Asked him all the questions that have been plaguing your mind since he departed?”

You shake your head, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I fear the answers, Gale.”

“Fear… Fear holds us mortals back so often.” He chuckles with a faraway look in his eyes, “An obstacle we shackle ourselves with that stands in the way of progress.”

Stupid wise wizard.

“Do not let it shackle you in your unhappiness, my friend.”

By the time you and Gale return to the manor, night has blanketed the city in its frosty grasp. Tara wakes up from her bed by the unlit fireplace with a stretch and a yawn. She walks over to you lazily, rubbing herself on your leg.

“The vampire told me to tell you he went out.”

You give her a stroke, “Did he? And what persuaded you to deliver this message?”

“He warmed my milk.”

Gale and you look at each other wide-eyed with mutual surprise.

“Surely, he wouldn’t?”

“Are you telling me the vampire gave you milk, and he even warmed it up?”

Tara glances at you as if you are stupid, “Is that not what I just said?”

You look at Gale with an expression of pure bewilderment and shrug your shoulders, “Apparently, he would.”

Gale’s laugh booms, “The wonders never cease!”

Saying goodnight to Tara and Gale, you go to your bedroom. You light the little brick fireplace with the whisper of a cantrip, imbuing the room with a welcome heat and tawny glow. The fire crackles and pops as the timber starts to ignite.

Sitting on your bed, you think back on the day. Astarion had tried to talk to you, and you ran from it, ran from him and the pain his words might bring.

I have gotten so good at running.

You try and remember when that change took place. When did you get so good at avoidance?

I avoid everything these days - my feelings, thoughts, and memories, even slipping into my trance.

You had never been one to run from your problems before. You had always faced things head-on, preferably with fire in hand. You sigh and push yourself to search your memories, looking to pinpoint the exact moment you decided that hiding or just outright ignoring things was an acceptable solution. Your memories are tinged with tragedy and laced with heartache, and you force them back into the depths of your mind with a shake of your head.

Running again.

Looking at the wardrobe, you slip off your bed and walk towards it hesitantly. Your bare feet pad softly on the chilled floor and your heartbeat spikes. This was one of the things you avoided. This silly, unassuming wardrobe had been opened and shut once when you arrived, and you never dared to do it again.

The hinges creak as you open the door for the first time since you got to Waterdeep, and you peer inside. Everything is as you left it, never to look at it again, until now. Reaching in, your fingers tremble as they brush over the remains of your old life.

You pick up the hefty, carefully wrapped mirror. Gold trim peaks out from the cloth, protecting it from harm. Your heart drums so harshly that you can feel the thumping in your head and hear it in your ears.

Lowering yourself to the floor, you cross your legs, anchoring the mirror protectively in your lap. You carefully unwrap it and stare into the blemished reflective surface. Your image is distorted by the deterioration of time.

How long has he had this thing?

A barely audible soft rasp on your door makes you jump.

Propping the mirror against the wardrobe, you throw the cloth back over it before answering. Astarion is standing there leisurely. The low amber light from the ebbing fire reflects off the vibrant scarlet of his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You blink at him, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I can hear your heart beating fiercely. I… I was worried.”

You laugh, “Naturally. Untold dangers could be lurking in my room.”

He shrugs, “Perhaps you saw a spider. You always did get squeamish around those and call for me to kill them.”

“Hey! I fought and killed the phase spiders, didn’t I?”

“Oh yes, my dear, I remember it well. You were positively recoiling the entire time, repulsed, and yelping when even the little ones neared. Had I not been there to shield you from them, I worry you, our fearless leader, may have jumped into the chasm to her death to get away from them.”

He laughs hard, “You couldn’t even look at the corpse when we finally felled the bloody matriarch! You made me loot it for you!”

“Made” isn’t the word I would use.”

“Oh? What do you call pointing at it with your eyes squeezed closed, whimpering “Astarion? Please. Astarion, can you?”

Astarion does his best imitation of your whimpering voice.

“That is not what I sounded like!”

“Sure, darling. Of course not. If my memory serves, you even chucked a rock at me when I laughed at you!”

“That’s what you get for laughing at your fearless leader!” A shudder courses through your body, and your face twists into a cringe. “It’s all the legs and beady little eyes.”

“Of course! The legs and eyes trouble you, but not the enormous venomous fangs.”

“You, of all people, should know that fangs don’t frighten me.”

He chuckles, “I suppose they don’t at that.”

“Do you want to come in?”

He smiles, “I thought you would never ask.”

Astarion’s eyes peruse your room. Not having bothered to add additional garnishing, it’s sparsely decorated and furnished, remaining the way it had been when you arrived except for a few scattered books and half-burnt candles. His eyes fixate on the open door of the wardrobe before falling to the floor.

Astarion’s brows rise, and his mouth falls open, “You kept it?”

You follow his gaze. The corner of the mirror peeks out from behind the cloth draped over it—the golden pipping glinting.

“Of course.”

Did he think I would leave it all behind? Leave him behind? Like he left me...

You hadn’t taken many of your belongings when you set out in search of him all those years ago, but you had kept everything he had left behind. His discarded belongings had been the only things you had left of him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to part with them.

He slowly walks to the antiquated mirror and crouches, pulling the cloth covering it away. His fingers gently caress the rough, worn trim with a wistfully nostalgic expression. A small smile quirks his lips up at the corners.

“I never thought I would see it again,” he says in a low whisper.

He was never planning on coming back to me.

Walking over to him, you give his shoulder a comforting squeeze. His eyes trace up to the open door of the wardrobe, halting at the neat bundle housing all his things.

“You kept everything…” He reaches out and plucks the faded envelope resting atop his other belongings, “even this.”

Astarion rises back to his full height, and he turns the letter over and over in his hands, examining it. The yellow colour has faded to a light flaxen hue. Creases are strewn over its once flat surface from all the times you had crumpled that letter up intending to dispose of it.

You had spent many nights staring down at it, willing yourself to relinquish it, burn it, throw it in a chasm, or destroy it in some kind of dramatic fashion, hoping it would make you feel better.

You could never bring yourself to go through with it.

In truth, when his scent had long faded from the articles of clothing he left behind, that damn paper still retained it, and it had brought you some comfort during those lonely years.

Astarion deftly takes the old letter out and unfolds it. The ink has paled over time and, in some spots, has run and become smudged where your tears had fallen on the page.

His fingers graze the blotchy blemishes, “Why?”

“It was all I had left of you.”

“I’m s-”

You put your hand up, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Gale’s words echo in your head, “Do not let it shackle you in your unhappiness”

I need to stop running.

“Not tonight, at least.”

He nods, “I understand.”

Astarion’s jaw clenches as if about to say something, but he stops. Folding the faded letter, he slides it back into the envelope and returns it to the wardrobe.

“You should get some rest.”

“Don’t you want the mirror and your things?”

He hesitates at the open door. Astarion gazes into your eyes intensely. They are brimming with profound love and intimacy.

“Everything I could ever want or need is standing right in front of me. Goodnight, my only one.”

The door shuts with a low click of the latch, and you’re left alone again. You return to the open wardrobe and hesitantly finger the envelope. Carefully wrapping the mirror back up, you put it away and close the door.

He is not going to make being friends easy, is he? But, perhaps, I don’t want him to…

As always, big thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. It really does brighten my day, and I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.

Chapter Master List - Shadow of the Past

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

AO3: Crossposted

Happy Holidays!

#astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion romance #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion and tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fic

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helloporcelain · 7 months

Text

Retrouvailles

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Astarion/Tav (gender neutral) Rating: Teen Tags: Reincarnation (Tav dies/Astarion doesn't), au-ish, Astarion's POV, oneshot.

Summary: “Until the day you draw your last breath, they will always return,” the god warns you. “And you will always find them. But they will never be the same, and they will never remember you.” Note: I got a little brainworm after seeing this lovely fanart by @cheesy-cryptid.

Read on AO3 if you prefer

–

Long ago, when you were a slave, you used to pray.

Beneath the lashes that were etched onto your flesh, you would pray. When your master abandoned you to the cruel clutches of starvation, you would pray. And on the evenings where your exhaustion was so heavy you nearly died under the weight of it all, you would still pray. You would pray tirelessly, and in as many broken tongues as you knew, and to as many gods as you could remember. Yet none deigned to answer your pleas.

Many centuries later, you pray once more.

This time, Velsharoon, the archmage of necromancy, the patron of liches and god of the undead, embraces you.

–

You’re not sure if this is a dream.

“Little love,” you murmur. “You should be resting.”

They sit on a bench in your garden, a willowy figure tending to the belladonnas and foxgloves you planted for them when they became too frail to stand on their own. Water spills out from the pot as their fingers tremble under the weight, splashing at their bare feet and brushing the edges of their tattered cloak.

“Even the prettiest flowers die,” they hum in response.

You watch them for a while with fondness — then you realize that this isn’t real.

“Are you a memory?” you ask.

“I am always myself,” they answer.

They pluck a blossom from the damp earth by the stem and gesture for you to join at their side, and when you draw near, they face you; yet you cannot see them, only the wilted flower that they press into your hand.

“Tell me, Astarion. Will you scoop the pleasure of existence out from the soil with your fingers? Will you have your fill until you are so full, you overflow?”

–

They gift you many paintings, each one a magnificent attempt to capture you, but you are never satisfied. They’re all just replicas , you complain, beautiful, pale imitations!

But the years pass on by, and vanity doesn’t hold as much sway on you as it used to. There is an old saying: time leaves its mark not on the faces we see, but in the hands we hold.

You long for those changes, to prove that you have shared this messy life with your darling.

Your fingers stay smooth, and you feel just as strong as you were when you first met them all those years ago on that fateful day out in the wilderness. And though you can’t see your own reflection, you know it remains unchanged.

In contrast, they bear the unmistakable signs of age: silvery wisps of hair, wrinkles tracing the counters of their eyes, and bone thin fingers. You think they are exquisite this way— that they are more beautiful than they have ever been– and you make sure to whisper this into their ears every time you make love.

Oh, they don’t believe you for a while. You’ll find me frightful, just a withering old thing next to you, they joke once, trying to hide their insecurity.

But they grow to accept their aging body– it is, after all, a gift that very few are fortunate to receive.

Occasionally, in the presence of strangers who think of you as their protégé, or sometimes even their son, they playfully call you their ‘little prince’. The nickname grates on you, a reminder of your unchanging curse, but you never voice your displeasure. Seeing them smile is just enough for you.

–

One winter’s season, just shy of their 700th year, they fall ill.

Nothing unusual for a person of their age, and certainly nothing a carefully concocted potion can’t remedy.

You kneel at their bedside, tenderly propping them up against the velvet headboard, tilting their jaw back to sip on some darjeeling tea. You raise the back of their delicate hand up to your lips and press a gentle kiss against a vein.

“Little love, I’m going to visit the cleric. I won’t be long.”

“Little prince,” they cough, smiling weakly at you. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

You have no reason to believe that the gods will claim them before the sun even gets a chance to rise.

–

You pray that they understand.

“Until the day you draw your last breath, they will always return,” the god warns you. “And you will always find them. But they will never be the same, and they will never remember you.”

You’ll wait a thousand lifetimes for them – you’ll love them regardless of the form their soul inhabits.

“When your time eventually comes– and it will come, vampire– you will not join them. Your soul will be bound to me, tethered for eternity. You will never know rest.”

You’ll forsake the afterlife, if that’s what it takes to allow you a glimpse of your beloved.

“Are you absolutely certain?”

You’ve never been more certain of anything else in your life.

“Bring them back.”

You pray that they forgive you.

–

Twenty five years and sixteen days pass.

It’s not as though they would be born again as an adult and delivered onto your front door step immediately— you understand this, but at some point, you wonder if the notoriously capricious god has forgotten all about you.

But one day, you sense their presence, just as Velrashoon said you would. Something compels you to Neverwinter – and you follow that feeling without a second thought.

Not knowing when you’ll come back, you lock up your home and bring only what is necessary for the journey there. The voyage by boat takes roughly fifteen days to reach land and you can’t wait to get off the ship; the seas are unforgiving and on the nights you do come out of your cabin, you strain your eyes out over the waves, wondering who they will be in this life.

Neverwinter is true to its name – there is an otherworldly warmth in the air that reminds you of them, even during the nighttime, which you welcome. You missed the heat of the sun while they were alive, but you longed for it even more after they passed away.

When you reach the city, you should be in awe – and in any other lifetime, you would be eager to explore it. But today, you’re frantically racing to find them. Your feet lead you to the front door of an assuming little bookshop tucked away from the busy streets.

If your heart had a pulse, it would be racing – it would be threatening to burst out of your chest. You push through the front doors, the bell above sweetly announcing your arrival, and search around the crowded shelves and stacks of books. No one stands out – until you notice someone perched at the top of a ladder, rearranging a few volumes.

It’s them.

You know it’s them.

“Ah, hello! I’ll be down in a second. Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Yes.” A wistful smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “I most certainly am.”

–

In this lifetime, they are human.

You visit their bookshop often – you purchase a humble manor in the city and you come in every week to search for a new book.

Every book is one that they once cherished, and every week that you return they greet you with unbridled excitement, curious to see which book catches your interest this time.

Truth be told, you’ve read these books a hundred times over, and they all go onto a shelf in your new home, patiently waiting for your sweet to finger through their pages again.

It really doesn’t take long for them to fall in love with you – humans have always fallen prey to vampires the easiest, something about being so fragile makes dangerous creatures like you so alluring. They tell you that they’ve never experienced a love like this, and you lie and tell them that you never have, either. Your second life with them is more or less like a fairy tale, picturesque, sometimes even boring in its loveliness. Still, you adore it all the same.

But they’re human, and humans only live so long.

–

I’ve missed you so much, darling, you confess in your third life together.

They are a nomadic bard in this life; just a wild, untameable bird when you first find them with a traveling troupe in Waterdeep. You will never wish to lock them in a gilded cage so they go where their heart pleases, and most of the time, you follow. Your sweetheart is a wanderer – and you fly along with the winds of their dreams.

They laugh, having come to expect your flair for the dramatic.

I’ve only been gone a few days, Astarion.

A few days too long, little love.

–

In their fourth reincarnation, they are born a bastard to a vicious pirate king.

You feel them around fifty years in, but don’t actually manage to track them down in the Moonshae Isles until their eightieth year – it never occurred to you that they would be thrashing around in the seas. It's not exactly your preferred territory to be adventuring in, but it certainly offers a change of pace.

The way they first greet you with a sword to your neck reminds you of the time you once held a dagger to theirs. Ah, such fond memories. This variation of your darling is one that you secretly cherish the most – the one that just cannot seem to stay away from trouble.

It’s easily one of your most exciting lifetimes, despite the fact that living amongst the ocean is one of your worst nightmares. It’s a true weakness of yours, one that you are willing to brave only for them.

“Such a strong and fearsome vampire,” your love teases, on a night where the waves are particularly strong and you can’t stand up straight. “Yet the water terrifies you so.”

Their life begins with the ocean – how fitting it is that it ends with the ocean too, screaming and struggling amidst the violent tempest, their existence reduced to bubbles as they plummet like an anchor to the sea’s depths.

You barely make it back onto dry land with your life intact.

Even if you knew how to swim, you wouldn’t have been able to save them anyway.

–

It takes a hundred years for you to find them in their fifth life.

It’s never taken this long, and you go slightly mad trying to keep yourself busy while you wait for that phantom tug in your chest.

When you do find them, they’re a paladin, hardened by loss. They don’t tell you about it, and you never ask.

Every reincarnation of them after their first form has been unfamiliar with the version of you that lies – up until the night you decide that you just need to share the burden of your profound secret.

There is an excruciating loneliness in keeping it all yourself, and though you are well aware they won’t — can’t — remember, you long for them to grasp the depths of your love. You want them to understand that your devotion spans the abyss of time, that it transcends the limitations of flesh and bone, that your eternity means absolutely nothing without them.

However, you’re just not brave enough to admit to your beloved that you have lived four lifetimes with them now, but you are able to tell them a half truth: that you were lovers, that they were reborn, and that you brought them back.

They are furious, which you expected, but they are also completely inconsolable; that, you are not prepared for.

“How dare you?” they sob, their words fraught with anguish. “How entitled you are, Astarion, to think you can play as a god.”

"Little love. Please— I’m so sorry.”

You don’t know how to apologize for this, you just do, over and over. And it doesn’t matter, don't you realize that good intentions never matter? Their cries carry the agony of a soul caught in a never-ending cycle – a suffering of which you had a hand in weaving. Nothing in the world brings you more pain than having to witness them crumbling, wishing that you could take back something you simply don’t have the power to.

Once they’ve finally calmed down, they make a request: “I want to see it. Take me to my grave.”

You bring them to their first resting place, thinking that it will help them.

They don’t leave you, but their despondency settles like a boulder on their back. They don’t have the heart to muster a smile at you during your inadequate attempts to console them, and you often find them staring out of the window, fixating on the garden beyond.

“You water the plants too much,” they say one morning. “You’ll kill them faster that way.”

And sometimes, when you kiss them, they respond, but their gaze is glassy and distant, as if lost in another plane entirely. It’s a familiar expression, one you stopped wearing a long time ago.

Your chest feels like it’s being ripped open. You’ll sooner die than let them go through this again – you promise that this is their last life, that their soul will know peace. It’s not a lie, you tell yourself, if you believe it.

–

You call on Velsharoon countless times in the years that pass. You get on your knees to pray and pray, as you did centuries ago. You offer your soul every time, imploring to him that you have no use for it now, that he may grab it if he is content to – and you beg him to please, please allow for your love to finally rest.

He does not answer.

But, you also don’t feel them anymore.

Nothing pulls at you. There are no whispers in your consciousness, no echoes of their presence reverberating through your chest. There is only silence. You wonder if Velsharoon simply became bored, after all this time, and has decided to cut you from the strings that tie you to them.

Relief mixes with your sorrow, like a strange potion you have to choke down.

Eventually, you decide that you want to open a gallery – you don’t plan on staying in one place anymore, but you also don’t want to let go of all the things you cherish. And even if you did have a permanent residence, there would be no one left to appreciate the things that make a house a home.

So you get to work and fill it to the brim.

Everything they ever loved graces the halls of your exhibition. The jewelry that once adorned them sit on silver trays, protected behind glass. The luxurious robes you draped upon them are now pinned on mannequins; ancient books from centuries past lie open, their yellowing pages forever open on their favorite passages, never to be turned again. This gallery becomes your shrine, the only way to show the world that you loved something once.

Then, it is all too painful to bear.

You leave it in the hands of a trusted curator, corresponding with her through letters and sending her any new treasures you find during your travels that might suit the gallery. You leave Baldur’s Gate.

Time stretches on, each day merging into the next. The days turn into weeks, and then into months, as hundreds and hundreds of years flow by faster than ever. You dedicate your life to seeing everything the world has to offer, crossing into different lands and learning new languages and occupying yourself with pretty new lovers. You don’t keep track of what year it is anymore, but soon it’s the age of lightbulbs and airships and the world is alive in a way you’ve never seen before – it’s spectacular.

You are so empty, and you wish more than anything that you were dead already.

Velsharoon told you that your time would come, and the morbid curiosity of how you will go is the only thing keeping you from sitting in the sun on your own.

–

One year, you find yourself returning to Baldur's Gate on a whim.

You haven’t seen your gallery in what seems like forever, but you have kept a close hand on it all this time – you’ve passed it down through the family, so to speak. Upon your arrival, the newest curator is practically tripping over themselves to greet you. They marvel at your uncanny resemblance to your great, great-grandfather – strong genetics, you tell them.

The hallowed halls of your life's memories stretch out before you, pristine and frozen in time. As you absorb every detail of every item, the reality of your age weighs heavily on you, and you find yourself feeling more ancient than you ever have. You get a sense that this lifetime might be your last – that perhaps Velsharoon is warning you.

That’s when you hear it - the voice that has haunted you through so many lifetimes.

You tell yourself that you merely wish to see what they look like.

Just a glimpse.

It’s curiosity, that’s all it is.

Then you’ll sell the gallery and never step foot into Baldur’s Gate again.

Their attention is fixed on the very first painting they had ever gifted you— their favorite one, the one that captured the sadness in your eyes so well. You’re nearby, concealed behind a column, pretending to admire a statue before you. Their hair veils their face as they study the portrait, and the longest of minutes pass before they finally move on.

You attempt to turn away just before they reach you, but your nerves betray your reflexes and your shoulders collide. When you finally lay eyes on them, it feels as though a musket has pierced your chest.

This time, they look as if they've been plucked straight from their first life with you, not a single strand of hair out of place.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

A breathless moment lingers between the two of you, and then, a smile ghosts their lips. It’s an echo of a smile – a déjà vu so uncanny that it would unsettle you if you didn’t know any better.

“I’m sorry... Have we met before?”

“I’m afraid not.”

"I can't quite put my finger on it," they muse, their brows furrowing in thought. “But there's something remarkably familiar about you."

“Hmm… that portrait of my handsome ancestor might provide a clue," you suggest, pointing to the painting. "Though – I am also the owner of this gallery."

“Oh!” They look at the painting with alarm, then back at you, chuckling. “Yes, perhaps that’s it. My husband brought me here many moons ago, and I’ve continued to visit whenever I return to the city. It is such an enchanting collection. You’re wise to keep it in the family.”

Husband. This is the first incarnation where you've seen them with a spouse. Ah, it appears that Velsharoon has, at long last, granted them respite from you, and is revealing it in the cruelest way… you always knew he had a depraved sense of humor.

"Your husband has an impeccable eye for beauty," you complement, making no effort to hide the way your gaze lingers over their body.

“Yes…”

They turn away from you with a faint blush creeping up their neck, eyes drawn back to the painting.

“He did have a deep appreciation for the arts.”

You hold your tongue, understanding that fate is tempting you once more.

“It’s really not the painting,” they say, this time with conviction. “I know you. I don’t know how I know you. But I do.”

It’s time to make your exit , you chastise yourself, trying to recall the promise you made to them centuries ago.

Ending a conversation with a complete stranger and walking away would be the most sensible thing to do – you’re an aristocrat, and who are they to you? You have many lovers waiting for you, scattered in different homes across Faerûn – you’re a vampire, you should have a restless appetite for both adventure and wanton delights; you should be reveling in your eternal existence, savoring it with the kind of ravenous abandon that mortals can only dream of.

And yet, you are also simply just a man.

Perhaps your love was correct when they thought you fancied yourself a small god. In the grand tapestry of your existence, you ask yourself – what difference does one more thread make for a soul already condemned to damnation?

Well, there’s one thing you know for sure – you've always possessed a remarkable talent for deceit. All it takes is one look at the face that you once loved so much, and it seems that you truly cannot remember the vow. Yes, now that you think of it – perhaps it was all just a melancholy dream…

“I don’t know you, my dear. But I would love to.”

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