TRUTHHHH UGHHH đđđđ
One thing golden era Wattpad writers had going for them was that they knew the importance of a buildup. I'm of the opinion that the sexual tension is WAY more satisfying to read than the actual sex and quite frankly there is a serious lack of non smutty writing.
Like I really miss reading fics/ x readers that start from scratch. Meeting the characters, initial reactions getting to know them, the tension the jealousy the TENSION the freaking tension.
Looking and looking away when they get spotted, touches that feel like they linger but perhaps they didn't and they're both so hot for each other that they think it's wishful thinking. And I don't mean just sweet sunshine romances, darker works can have a buildup too but it seems like so much is just about getting to the smut instead of the psychological aspect.
Bring back the build up!!!!!!!
Sheâs a 10 but is in love with fictional military pilots.
She = me đŻ
LOVE LOVE LOVE IM SO EXCITED FOR PART 2!!!!
⎠neteyam x human!reader â âwe are mated for lifeâ
âWhat is necessary to change a person is to change his awareness of himself.â - Abraham Maslow
synopsis: neteyam doesnât know whatâs worse. possibly having you as a mate or being in an arranged mating with a feisty woman thatâs already laid claim to him. he finds a little irony in the fact that he never planned on taking a mate at all, but now heâs got two. heâs stuck between a rock and a hard place, unsure of where to go from here but secretly finds a bit of solace with you.
genre: slowburn, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, 18+
tags/warnings: some sexual themes, this is a little more angsty this time, neteyam is going through it in this chapter so beware of a (lot) little horniness but also him dealing with his conflicting emotions as usual, slight kanu appearance (heâs as flirty as ever but will come off a tad bit distant â for good reason), some touchy âteyam, neytiri losing her shit (insert jake, the mediator) and the âonly one bedâ trope (its so cute until neteyam starts thinking a little too much about it and gets a littleâŠexcited)
word count: 21k (trust me, itâll go by quicker than you think lol)
âł notes: it feels like i havenât posted in a month when in reality, itâs only been a few days đ€Šđœââïž i swear, sometimes my perception of time is so off itâs not even funny but anywho! finally giving you all the first chapter, which is so exciting bc this is going to set the stage for the chapters to come ! there will be lots of questions, old and new, and i hope to answer most of them in the next two chapters so bare with me ;)) i have pretty much set myself up for a chapter a week, and since theyâll be fairly long, it should hold you guys until the next update. some wonât be as long as 20k+ but just know that i was insanely excited to get this out and made sure to include everything necessary to officially start the story so happy reading!<3
âł need to know info: iâve decided to change the naâvi speaking to where it will only be in italics when they are speaking it around her, otherwise itâll be presented in normal text. they will also be speaking in naâvi throughout the entire story unless said otherwise, which will be made very obvious, dw hehe
âł p.s. proofread by me, so pretend you donât see any grammatical errors or anything shsj
ê„ okok, enjoy n pls like/reblog! it is much, much appreciated, ty ê„
previous chapter âł series masterlist âł next chapter
âAgain.â
The young warrior closed his eyes to gather himself before exhaling a breath. How long had he been at this again? Since dawn? No, heâd had breakfast. He was sure of it. Maybe it was sometime early in the afternoon that he was pulled off to the training grounds to practice. It felt like heâd been practicing for ages.Â
Sunlight could only be blocked out by the trees for so long until it was forced to break through the dense branches and leaves, throwing shadows across his damp skin appearing drenched with sweat. He longed for a well deserved break, but neither he nor his father would allow it. He had to shoot a perfect shot or he wasnât going anywhere.
When the air was thick enough with tension and determination, he reached back and grabbed another arrow from the quiver against his back. Once the arrow was fitted to the string, he rested the shaft against the bow, and took in a slow breath.
âThatâs it. Slow, and steady,â he heard his father say a few feet away.
The warrior visualized his intended target, a big tree just a few yards away. Heâd done this numerous times.Â
Despite being among the finest of the bunch, he had some anxiety that he may miss. The fact that people were looking at him might have played a role. He was expected to perform at his absolute best because Neteyam didnât miss. Ever. He was perfect with a bow. A perfect leader in the making. His father had likely said this to comfort him as he had just missed a shot, owing the mishap to anxiety, but it didnât work. He was furious with himself. He felt angry because he was better than this. Much better. In fact, perfection didnât exist until he was born. Up until he gave it breath and birthed it from his bare hands. All of his hard work earned him that. Except, for some reason, he couldnât get himself to focus when he needed to the most. Because of how irresponsible he had been earlier, his mind was wayward. He was obviously still angry with himself for not paying attention earlier, which led to him squandering his shot.Â
He frowned, staring down the mark his first arrowhead made in the tree. It chipped the side, nowhere close to the middle where heâd aimed for. There was no more room for error. He had to get this right.Â
He had to.
âAnytime youâre ready, son.â
Neteyam was determined to show his dad that he could do this. That he could become oloâeyktan someday, and protect the people just as successfully as his dad had back when heâd gone to war with the sky people. He had the potential; he knew it. He couldnât let his old man down.Â
He drew in another long breath, then held it as he steadied his hand, pinpointing exactly where he wanted to shoot.
This time he wasnât going to miss.
He pulled back the string while oblivious to the sharp pain that shot through his raw fingertips, and when he was thoroughly confident, he let the arrow fly. It cut through the air and curved with the breeze. He watched it and waited while remaining as motionless and as stiff as a statue.Â
Itâs perfect, he told himself, Itâll make it.
He inhaled just before it thwacked into the tree, right in the center of it. The bow dropped carelessly to the ground as he knelt forward to rest his hands against his knees, struggling to get his breathing back under control. It seemed as though his body had released all the tension it had been holding. He felt like the weight of the world had dropped down onto his shoulders.Â
He kept his eyes locked on the dirt beneath his feet while everyone around him hooted and celebrated at the winning shot. He appeared unaffected on the surface, but inside he was jubilant. It was because of him. A center-of-the-frame shot; a flawless execution. Given how exhausted he felt, he nearly couldn't believe it, but it was perfect. He was perfect.
He rose back up to see his father approach, standing in front of him with a proud smile on his face. Before droplets of sweat had a chance to blur his vision, he quickly wiped it away with a single swipe of his arm.
Jake nodded, placing a warm hand on his sonâs shoulder, âYou did good, boy. Iâm proud of you.â
Neteyam wanted to cry, as embarrassing as that would have been, but he knew his friends would laugh in his face and he wouldnât have been able to handle the embarrassment so he trained his features into a blank expression instead. He gave his dad a firm nod, feeling safer with that response.Â
âGo on and get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready soon,â and walked away to no doubt spend the rest of the evening with his mother and his other siblings.
His friends didnât waste time circling around him, patting his back while praising him for his hard work. He couldnât keep his face from stretching out into a tiny smirk this time.
It felt good being the perfect son.Â
However, that feeling didnât last as long as he thought it would have.
When he reached his early 20s, he understood that there was a lot more to leadership than he had previously thought. Not everything was centered around working and improving oneâs abilities.
His mother pushed him about taking some time to find a mate on more than a few occasions. She told him that time was passing and that he wasn't getting any younger. Before she grew too old to watch her grandchildren grow and pass on the lessons she had learned as a child, she wanted to see him happy and with someone. She also hoped to see grandchildren soon, but she didn't appear to comprehend what it was he actually wanted. The last thing he wanted right now was a mate. He was actually fairly certain that it wasn't even on his list of things to do. He wasnât in any sort of rush, and wished she understood that.
In that respect, he was very similar to his uncle, Tsu'tey. Years after Tsuâtey let his mother move on with his dad, heâwho wasn't really his uncle but whom his dad had named as such years earlierâtook a mate. She had a softer side to her that occasionally could defrost Tsu'tey's icy cold exterior, even though he was still reluctant to show her physical affection outside of the comforts of their hut. Despite this, the two were a good match.
Neteyam liked to believe that he was very similar to Tsuâtey, in fact. That his sole purpose wasnât to settle down and find a mate, but instead, focus on his duties and become a great leader to the people. Eventually, he would set his sights on picking the perfect mate, but for now, he preferred to work hard and train to take his dadâs place as oloâeyktan.
Overtime, he learned that his fatherâs shoes were hard to fill.Â
Neteyam knew he had a lot more to live up to in order to get his dadâs blessing as a true leader, but his mother already considered him one; which was one of the reasons she used to try and convince him to start opening his eyes to the potential mates within the village. He had to admit, if he were looking for a mate right now, there was no shortage of prospective women to choose from. Most had made their affections towards him abundantly clear ages ago. However, if he were going based on fertility, beauty and skills in the basics of weaving and healing, the decision wouldâve been made a long time ago. If not just for his motherâs satisfaction, there had to be more than that to a potential mate in order to catch his eye.Â
He wasnât just attracted to beauty and what a woman was taught from birth. More than anything, he wanted someone that could protect herself. Prove that she could be soft and motherly while also having the skills and attributes of a warrior, like him. The idea of mating with someone that had no clue how to defend herself, that only knew how to be fragile and weak â he felt that there was no point in even looking. None of the women in the village exuded the sort of warrior-esque that he was looking for; if he were looking, that is. Therefore, he chose to prioritize his duties above all else.Â
âSon, it is nice to see you once in a while but I wish it werenât always under these circumstances,â Neytiri commented followed by a grieving huff as she rounded Neteyam to reach for the damp cloth that sat in a small, wooden bowl filled with water. She squeezed out the majority of the water, and began patting at the open wound, ear flicking back at his hiss from the sharp pain. She sighed, âYou know, you are very lucky that I didnât need to tend to your father this time. He came out of the hunting trip unscathed, unlike you,â his ears flattened at that, âAlthough, youâd always have someone waiting for you to come back from your hunting parties to patch you up if you would just start looking for a mat-â
âMother, please,â his head turned to the side, eyebrows furrowed.
Neytiri hummed, feeling a tug at the corner of her lips, âSo stubborn,â she finished up cleaning the wound and began to coat it with a special healing salve that would close it up within a few days or less. âI think a mate would do you some good. Would keep you at home sometimes with your family, your people. Always gone, always training or hunting. My son,â once done with that, she placed her hands on his firm shoulders, and tucked her chin into the crook of his neck, âIt is almost as if you are running from obligations to yourself.â
Neteyam sat cross-legged in front of the small fire, staring at the curling flames in thought. Running. If only he was able to truly do such a thing. If only he didnât have so much honor for his parents, he wouldâve ran away a long time ago. He didnât feel as though he was able to be himself. He never even knew what it was like to be a kid back then.Â
There had always been so much pressure on his shoulders. Right from the moment that he was able to hold a bow properly, he stood in the training field, day in and day out, learning how to shoot. Tsuâtey and his father never gave him time to breathe. To just be a kid, and to run around and play with the other kids. No. Heâd had âfuture oloâeyktanâ etched onto his back the moment that he was born. He couldn't escape that, so he made it the center of his world. Instead of viewing his fate as something to fear, he made himself see it as a blessing. Lately, he began to wonder if heâd done the right thing.Â
He still wasnât sure.
He could feel himself growing antsy by the minute. Deciding that it was late and that he needed to get some rest, he began to lift himself to his feet. Neytiri followed him with a disheartened gaze, wondering if her son was ever going to let himself be happy for once. From a motherâs point of view, she only wanted the best for him. For all of her children. She wanted them to experience all of the happy and beautiful things she had when she was as young as them. Especially Neteyam, who was the one she was most worried about.Â
Loâak, her youngest son, was someone she never liked to bring up. He was mated to a human woman. Heâd left the village and the clan entirely when he knew that their bond was never going to be accepted. It was painful for her to part ways with her son knowing that he was hurt by his familyâs views of his choice of a mate, but it couldnât have been helped. His mate didnât feel welcomed, and he wasnât going to subject his children to such a life so he fled. Found homage elsewhere, and never came back.
Kiri had even found someone that she became interested in, but things were still at a flirty stage. Not that Neytiri minded. Kiri had always taken her time with these sorts of things, but Neteyam⊠He wasnât showing any of the women in the village interest. Not even a spare glance or two. He fought with her every time she brought the subject up. He seemed to like being alone and to a point, she could understand that but the beauty of loving someone, having a strong connection with them and bonding with them through tsaheylu â it was unlike any other feeling in the world. She wanted him to experience that, but perhaps he had his own pace set.
Only time would tell.Â
She decided to believe in eywaâs will and guidance for her son for a period longer, and stood up as well. Neteyam brushed a few slippery strands of hair back over his shoulder before he gazed down at his mother. Just a few years ago, he was shorter than her. He was at her shoulders back then but now, heâd risen well past her head and could look down at her. It only made him recognize how much time had flown by within the last few years since theyâd come back to the forest. He understood her worries, but he wished she would see things from his perspective. He wanted to find the perfect mate, and knew that she was out there somewhere. If she could give eywa a little more time to present him with that person, then sheâd see for herself. Sheâd finally understand what all of the wait was about. Until then, he would continue to dodge her questions and wait himself.
Neytiri smiled as she coiled a finger around one of his loose curls, âYou should wear your hair down like this more often. It suits you.â
âHm,â He didnât normally wear his hair unbraided, but after coming back from hunting, it needed washing. Most of the time, he made clean kills. He wasnât messy, and never hardly expelled much energy. However, tonightâs kill was a bit more difficult than what he was commonly met with. Or rather, the kill was tough this time because his mind had been elsewhereâŠ
Either way, it wouldnât have made sense to leave it in braids so he took the time to unravel each one, and spent delicate time ridding it of the blood and dirt that had gotten into it. Now, he was letting it dry but that was half of an excuse since he didnât have the energy to braid it back into the same style heâd had it in. âIt wouldnât be suitable for hunting or battle.â
âWell it is a good thing you donât have to hunt again for a while, and we are not in battle now are we?â She quipped, causing his tail to sharply swish to the side at that. âMy sweet boy,â she pulled him into her arms, rubbing down the line of his back, âDo you know how proud I am of you? Your father talks to me all the time about how well you are doing in your training. You are already the warrior that you wish to be. You will be a great oloâeyktan someday, but you are much too hard on yourself. You must commend yourself for all of your hard work so far.â
He knew that. Of course he knew. He was his own worst critic, and he couldnât help it. Heâd learned most of his stubbornness and prideful nature from his father. Everything that he did, it couldnât be less than perfect. It had to be done right or else he wasnât satisfied.Â
Taking breaks might have been beneficial. He put in a lot of effort simply for himself. His parents respected him, as did those in the village and even those on the other side of the ocean. He had already established himself as a leader, but for some reason he didn't feel prepared. Not in the way everyone else felt he was.Â
âI know,â he muttered, and wrapped his arms around her, âI know.â
Neytiri hissed, and pulled her son back to smack his arm, âIf you are aware of this, then do you not think that you should stop being so hard on yourself?â
Neteyamâs lips pulled down, âI donât think Iâm that hard on myselfâŠâ
She openly stared at him silently for a moment before she shook her head, placing her hands on her hips, âAh, I give up. Youâre free to go,â he almost smiled to himself as he turned around to head back to the entrance of the hut, âRemember to sleep on your stomach for a few days until the wound heals, yes? No sleeping on your back or you will slow the healing.â When she patted his back close to the wound, he jumped, tail straight up. The look he gave her was almost comical, causing her to stifle back a laugh, âSorry.â
His ears twitched, almost wishing that he hadnât gone to his mother to get his wound looked at.Â
When he stepped outside into the cool, night air, he was welcomed to the smell of food. It seemed that his kill had finally been skinned and cooked, but he didnât feel very hungry. He was typically one of the first ones to get a bite, but all he wanted to do was climb up to his treehouse and sleep for at least ten hours. He knew that if his mother caught him skipping dinner, sheâd force feed him claiming that, âgrowing boys need to eat,â but his argument was that he was done growing and needed the sleep more. He smiled. What she didnât know couldnât hurt her.
So, as sneakily as possible, he tip-toed to where his home in the trees were, and climbed up. With each step, he could feel the tension in his muscles attempt to seize up. How his bones ached for a moment of reprieve from the constant exertion of moving about the entire day.Â
The treehouse wasnât that far from the village. When he had decided to move out of his parentâs hut a few years ago, he wanted to live in something that was closer to the trees. Something that felt a little more like home to him. Something that reminded him of hometree, a place he never got to see nor live but heard so much about from his parents. Especially his father. His mother grew up there, along with her family for generations, but his father raved on and on about how inventive the system of hometree was. How thereâd been a place for the entire village within the tree itself. From the sound of it, it worked the best and he knew from then on that since hometree no longer existed, heâd make the most out of what he had and built something of a similar concept. His father helped him whenever he was able to, so it turned out great. Neteyam was quite satisfied, and always loved coming home now.
Once he made it inside, he didnât waste any time setting his bow into its usual corner and began to peel off his protective wear. Once he was settled for bed, he cozied up in his very well made bed that was just multiple pieces of large fur on the floor. He preferred the fur over a hammock because it was the most comfortable. It was also warmer.Â
Before he laid down, he pushed his hair out to the side and sighed. A simple long braid wouldâve fixed his current annoyance, but he couldnât even do that. He was so tired, too desperate to rest his eyes and his body. Fortunately, sleep didnât take but a few quiet moments to loom over him, sinking him into a deep slumber that quieted the peaceful whistle in the wind and the singing of the wildlife that surrounded him.
The start to his morning was a bit of a blur.
Neteyam felt that he had a fairly good memory. He remembered how manageable Tuk had been when she was younger. How playful and hyper she was, bouncing off the walls and skipping with every step. A curious little thing that sometimes got into things that she shouldnât have. Ultimately, she was just being a kid but he never thought heâd miss that version of her compared to who was standing in front of him now. If only he could turn back time.
He sighed, tempted to run a hand over his face for the fifth time in a row, âTuk, listen. You cannot walk around without something to cover yourself witââ
âItâs Tuktirey. Not Tuk,â One of Neteyamâs eyes almost twitched. Almost. âMânot a little kid anymore, and why not?â She countered, arms folded to cover her naked chest; not to give herself some coverage but more in a teenage-rebellion kind of way. Her brows were even pulled down in an angry frown, âYou do it all the time so, why canât I?â
Heâd tried his hand at explaining the concept to her every time she got like this but she refused to hear it, saying that it never made sense. Again and again, she would argue him down by saying that girls could do whatever boys could do. Which he was all for because she was right. There had never quite been a stigma against things like that, but when it came to clothing, there had to be a line drawn somewhere. She couldnât prance around with nothing to cover herself with like sheâd been able to do plenty of times as a child. She was 13 now; a teenager with a figure coming in so she had to be a bit more modest, in a sense. He started to wonder if sheâd been spending too much time with Kiri, the self proclaimed womenâs activist, lately. Kiri learned the term from Norm who was nice enough to even expand on the meaning which Neteyam didnât see as a problem until she took it too far. Dare he say she could get a little annoying with it from time to time.
Seemed like Tuk was well on her way to doing his head in about it too.
Neteyam tilted his head back to stare at the tip of the hut, wondering how he was going to successfully dress his younger sister at this rate, âEywa, I need your guidance. Please send me a sign. Help, of any kind. Iâll take it, just please.â
And so his prayers to Eywa had been answered. Quickly, too. The flap of the hut flipped up, startling him in the process.
âHey, is Tuk ready yeâwha, why is she still naked?â Kiri asked him as she waltzed in without announcing herself. Seeing the predicament that her older brother was in, she couldnât hold back a teasing half smile, crossing her arms, âAh, I see. Sheâs not listening to you, is she? Shouldâve seen this coming.â
Ah. So Eywa indeed had it out for him then. Perhaps she was upset because heâd skipped out on dinner last night without his mother knowing. Or was it more about defying everyone, and throwing himself into his duties rather than putting some of that energy towards finding a mate? He couldnât really decide on which one Eywa had more over his head, but either way â he was dealt with a pretty shitty hand.
When he asked for help, he didnât mean the help of his other sister who could be just as smart mouthed as Tuk. Now he had to deal with double the trouble. He couldnât have thought of a more fun way to spend his morning. Truly.
Yet, Neteyam prided himself in being able to get himself out of situations such as these. He knew that if he acted fast enough, he could put all of this behind him and carry on with the rest of his morning. He was intent on having a good day, and that started with getting himself out of dressing Tuk. Easy.Â
He stood to his feet, dropping his palms against the sides of his thighs, shrugging, âThat's it. I give up.â If Eywa threw him a bone meant to be his saving grace then who was he to ignore it? Heâd always been more of a gentleman anyway so of course heâd take it. He walked to Kiriâs side, sparing her a smirk. He rested a hand on her shoulder, and winked, âItâs your turn. Have fun.â
âHey, no! Wait! Mom said she wanted you toâ!â
Heâd already left, and was out of sight leaving her to wrestle with their little sister. Again. It was never easy for Neteyam to dress Tuk. She shouldâve known this time wasnât going to be any different.
She looked at her younger sibling before she pouted, dropping her hands and walking over to her, âAlright, letâs get this over with.â
Tuk hissed at her, and Kiri mentally cursed her brother. She was definitely going to get him back for this.
Neteyam took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with the morning dewy air, pleased with the sounds of his sister struggling to get Tuk dressed for the day and walked on as if heâd wiped his hands clean of that situation and could get his own day started. He didnât last long on his high horse though when he saw a tall figure heading his way. He almost groaned. It was so early. Heâd just slinked away from his brotherly duties, now it was as if he was being punished. He was beginning to believe that Eywa had a sick sense of humor.
âHey, brother!â Neteyam was met with an irritating slap to the back that was thankfully a few centimeters away from the wound that was still healing. He jolted up all the same. When he glared at his friend, he was almost blinded by the big, goofy grin on his face. What could he have possibly been so happy about? The sun was barely over the trees. Could Neteyam get at least five minutes to himself before he had to entertain the daily nonsense that went on in the village? Would seem not. âGot some good news, and thought of telling you all about it first. Got some time?â
Neteyam was strong, but the kind of strength it took to hold back a quick no was a show of great fortitude that he didnât think he had in him. At least, not so early in the morning. In fact, it was so early, he was pretty sure the animals in the forest were still sound asleep. It was barely light out. He couldnât stand it. Not when he was bothered, left and right. Mornings had always been reserved for him to take a little walk about, and think. His life didnât always revolve around the villageâs incessant penchant for neediness. He used mornings to go over the dayâs list of things to do and even liked to slide in a bit of meditation if he had the spare time. He hadnât done any of that yet. One of the first things he did was head to his parentâs hut to tend to Tuk. Heâd just left that failed obligation, and was trying to think of what he needed to do next. Plans were put on hold again.
Luckily for everyone that loved bothering him, he was used to it.
âYeah, sure,â he said with a forced smile that came off a lot more convincing than he expected it to, âWhat is it?â
Kanu. He became Neteyamâs closest friend when Loâak was forced to leave the village with his mate a few years ago. It was hard for Neteyam when he came back and had no one to confide in, but once he delved into training to be the next oloâeyktan, he met Kanu. Eldest son to Tsuâtey, which forced him to live a similar childhood to Neteyam due to the pressures of being the eldest sons of highly respected men of the clan.Â
Neteyam was taller, but Kanu was older than him. Even so, it still made Neteyam feel like an older brother again. How he needed to watch over him, and guide him in the right direction, always. It was like Loâak never left. Neteyam wouldâve never realized that piece of him was missing if Kanu wasnât there. Heâd always been there, but Neteyam overlooked him when they were younger. His hands were full with his little brother and other younger siblings at the time so he never paid much attention to him. Still, he was there. Neteyam found it ironic that he was still there when he and his family came back. Kanu was just as receptive to seeing him again as he had been when they were kids. It wouldâve been just as heartwarming now if he wasnât always so bothersome.Â
âOkay so,â Kanu started walking so Neteyam trailed next to him, thinking about all of the things that he could be getting done if he wasnât being forced to listen to something he didnât give half of a ratâs ass about, âThereâs this girlââ
âHold on,â Neteyam cut his thoughts short and stopped him there, pausing in the middle of the village and in the conversation, âYou interrupted my peaceful morning routine to talk about a girl?â
Kanuâs eyes darted left of him then back, nervously. Neteyam could tell he was nervous by the ear twitches and his tail swinging back and forth. He almost sighed. Heâd never know true peace at this rate.Â
âUhâŠyeah?â Neteyam gave him a dead look before he turned right on his heel, and started to walk the other way. âWait!â Kanu caught up to him, laughing, âDoes talking about women really bore you that much?â
âYes. To death, in fact.â
Kanu blinked for a moment, maneuvering his body to the side to pass by someone, catching up to his friend once again, âYou canât be serious. You used to be so into it when we were kids.â
Neteyam looked at him funny, brow raised, âEmphasis on âused toâ. We are not kids anymore.â He shifted his gaze forward, hellbound on heading to the training grounds as he saw no opportunity to spend the rest of his morning doing the things that he wanted to do. Might as well get a head start on his training for the day. âSome of us have to focus on more mature things rather than women 24/7.â
Kanuâs face twisted up in an unappreciative frown, âI donât talk about them 24/7. I probably like them more than you do, but that doesnât mean Iâm always talking about them. I talk about other things all the time.â
âLike?â Neteyam sent him a look, genuinely curious because again, he had an excellent memory and knew that Kanu was infamous for constantly bringing up some new girl he started to like.Â
âUhâŠâ
Neteyam rolled his eyes, âExactly.â
Kanu groaned next to him, âBrother, understand! Women are one of the more greater pleasures of living,â he shook his head in disbelief, âI donât know how you resist the temptation. I mean, I donât always go to them. They sometimes come to me. Itâs almost as if theyâre drawn, you know? Really, itâs a phenomenon,â he smirked to himself, chin high in the air, âbut who am I turn them away whenââ
Neteyam stopped walking for the second time, and pressed a finger into his friendâs chest, teeth clenched, âAnd that is exactly why uncle is so hard on you now. He expects you to focus on your training, and what are you always doing?â Kanu visibly swallowed, face blank, âTalking, and not just talking but talking about girls. You are a year older than I am. It is time you grew up, and started thinking about your future and what you actually want to do. If you still want to be a warrior, you cannot be one who constantly salivates at the sight of someone with three fingers and a pulse instead of training to get better. Donât you get it? Uncle is counting on you, and so is my father.â Kanu stayed silent, hands opening and closing by his sides, finding the sudden shift in the conversation uncomfortable, âYeah. Remember him? The oloâeyktan? The one who has appointed you as my soon to be right-hand? Or did you forget while you were chasing after girls for the five years you couldâve spent honing your craft?â
Neteyam stared back, feeling his blood boil. Even though they shared a similar past, growing up with like-minded fathers and all, Kanu always had it just a little bit easier than he did. Never took things seriously, and lived above his duties like he could meet perfection at the door without the hard work of crawling his way there. He spent more time lazing about in the village than on the training grounds with a bow in his hand. He never even seemed interested in hand to hand combat or knife training. Always surrounded by girls, flirting and giving them false hope before moving on to the next.Â
It angered Neteyam sometimes because that was all he did in his free time. Work. Train. Get better. Do better, and help out. Some days, he ran around the village offering aid to those that needed it. Whether that was carrying logs back to some old womanâs hut or giving lessons to the younger warriors that were anxious enough to learn. There wasnât a single second he didnât spend doing something. That couldnât be said about Kanu. He blew off his obligations, and maybe Neteyam could admit he was a tad bit jealous of him. Jealous that his father didnât quite have as big of a stick up his ass like his own father. It felt unfair, and he was sick of being around someone that tended to unintentionally shove his privilege in his face all the time.Â
It was exhausting, and it was about time heâd had enough of it.
Kanu could tell looking at his old friend that there was more to it than what was on the surface of his mind.Â
He gently pushed Neteyamâs pointed finger away, and shook his head, âYour fight is not with me, brother.â Neteyam looked confused, like he wanted to say something but Kanu continued, âIt is with yourself, but I say we should stop wasting time going and forth and just go train.â He then smirked before playfully boxing at his friendâs shoulder, âLetâs direct your anger towards something useful, yeah?â
Kanu was good at that. Diffusing tension by cracking a joke or two. As annoying as it was, it always seemed to work on him.Â
With a deep sigh, Neteyam nodded. He needed to take his mind off of a lot of things, and what better way to do that than beat his best friend in an innocent game of friendly fire? Good thing he was an expert with a bow. Well, maybe not so good for Kanu. He was more of a runner. Made for good target practice though.Â
Suddenly, he smirked. He couldnât wait.
Kanu frowned at the disturbing look on Neteyamâs face, watching him walk past him towards the training grounds again. He visibly shivered. He could feel it. This wasnât going to be good for him but at least he had a good chance at surviving whatever hellish game Neteyam was up to. He was fast, and could handle whatever he threw at him.Â
Literally.
He just hoped the guy would have the decency to miss his face. He had a date later tonight, and didnât want to run her off before he got the chance to put some moves on her.Â
Neteyam glanced back at him, a brow raised in expectancy, âAre you coming?â
Kanu jumped at the sound of his voice, and squeaked out a quick, âYep, coming!â before he jogged forward to catch up to him. He shook his head, mumbling a prayer to himself, âPlease let me walk away with my head still intact. Please, oh great mother.â
Click.
Scribble. Scribble. Scribble.
Click.Â
Scribble. Scribble.
Click. Click. Click.
Scribble. Pause.
You inhaled, and stopped writing. Annoyed that you were interrupted by the constant camera flashes, you side eyed the young boy that stood in front of a tall tree. He had one eye open, looking through his camera lens as he watched a pack of prolemuris swing from branch to branch. He smiled to himself. They were such outstanding creatures. Werenât aggressive, but curious little things. Perhaps he could get another shot or twâ
âTheo, donât you think youâve taken enough pictures?â You sighed, shutting your journal, disappointed that your thought process was no longer there. For the past ten minutes, you fought to focus on what you were writing about, but ultimately lost the battle due to the distraction. You needed peace and quiet, and were getting the exact opposite. âJesus, youâve taken at least 200 shots by now and we havenât even moved from this area yet. Take a break, will yaâ?â
âYeah,â Theo tugged the camera down from his face with a sheepish smile, awkwardly hugging it as he looked around, âSorry. Itâs just,â his gaze glossed over the fauna and other animals in the nearby area unbothered by their presence, munching on the grass. âThis place. ItâsâŠmagical. Feel like if I donât capture it all, then Iâll forget it someday.â You sent him a strange look. He coughed, âYou know, get Alzheimerâs or something?â
âMhm,â You grunted as you stood to your feet, almost wishing that you had come out alone instead. Maybe you would have been able to finish your journal entry by now. âYeah. Know what you mean. Letâs just head back to the lab then, yeah?â You patted his shoulder but didnât wait for a response when you began to step through the tall grass and wide leaves that surrounded the both of you. âPlus, we have some distance to cover. I donât want to be stuck out here close to dark, so come on.â
Theo looked around him once more, thinking about being stranded out in the forest at night. He shivered. The mere thought of it was something out of his nightmares.Â
He quickly stepped forward, foot almost getting caught on a tree root, âYes, maâam!â and caught up to you.
Pandora was a beautiful planet. Home to some of the most extraordinary animals and plants youâd ever seen. It was sad that Earth was nothing like Pandora. It became overpopulated, and was dying from the amount of chemicals released into the air due to the overproduction of extremely harmful products. Mass production had always been an issue back on earth, but with overpopulation on the rise â it became a bigger problem than before. There was no other solution than to leave, and find another start elsewhere.Â
Full of life and vibrancy. Everywhere you turned, you were greeted with some sort of living, breathing thing. The entire forest was alive.Â
Theo was right. Pandora was magical, and there were still parts of it that you hadnât seen just yet.Â
You longed to travel around, and see what was outside of the forest. Wondered if there were any sea animals and what they were like. Different environments, different plants, different everything. Your mind buzzed with the endless possibilities, not paying attention to your harebrained partner.
Theo stumbled behind you, eyes on everything around him. He was mesmerized by life on Pandora, and wanted to capture it all with his little digital camera. He took a few shots of some wild plants then another couple of a low hanging tree with some sort of fruit growing from it.Â
âCool,â he breathed, and walked closer to get a better look at it.Â
Just then, a yerik came stepping out of the bushes just a few yards in front of him, where he was headed. He stopped in his tracks, and instantly crouched down behind some thick leaves. He held his breath, and paid no mind to you walking further and further away. He needed to get a picture. He just had to.
A few insects started to circle you, buzzing in annoyance. âUgh,â you swatted at them, stepping over a puddle of mud, âTheo, we really need to pick up the pace. Bugs like this only start coming out when it gets late so letâs try and find a detour andâŠâ once you realized that you werenât hearing footsteps behind you, you turned around and your mouth dropped. âTheo?â Your heart pounded in your chest. Had something happened to him? Where did he go? He was just behind you.Â
âTheo!â
He heard something in the distance and looked at the direction but was brought back when he noticed the yerik moving further away. He cursed under his breath, and shifted his pack back over his shoulder. A little closer. He just needed to get a little closer, and get one good shot. He figured you couldnât have gotten too far away. Heâd catch up to you. He wasnât worried in the slightest.
âFuck,â you trudged back the way you came, dodging the low wide leaves in your way with a grunt, âKnew he shouldnât have come. I fucking knew it,â you muttered to yourself.
As annoying as your partner could be sometimes, you couldnât live without him. He was around five years younger than you, and clung to you like a little brother. Naturally, you felt a bit protective over him and didnât want to see anything bad happen to him.Â
Norm thought it wouldâve been a good idea for him to come out and take some pictures. Moping about the lab was getting a little depressing. It was bothering everyone so it was mutually and collectively agreed upon that he went out with you for just a few hours, then came back.Â
However, you started to regret letting him tag along. If something horrible happened to him, you would only blame yourself. Meant to keep eyes on him at all times, yet failing at something so simple as that. It was your fault. You were the reason he was lost.
âTheo!â You tried to call out for him again, but was met with the same silence.Â
Even though you were able to retrace your steps, he was nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, you werenât taught how to track so you didnât have the first clue how to find him. Before leaving the outpost, youâd foolishly told Theo to leave the wristband comms behind, saying that the two of you wouldnât be gone long enough to need them. While out in the forest, Theo could get easily sidetracked so they wouldâve been useful.
You cursed under your breath. Unfortunately, you couldnât spend that much time looking for him. You had to find your own way back and hope he would do the same. It was going to get dark in a few hours. Even though the forest was illuminated by its natural bioluminescence at night, it was still best you started heading back. Theo wasnât incompetent. He knew how to defend himself, and unfortunately he had the pack with the weapons in them. Just two combat knives and some other miscellaneous defensive weapons. Still, you had none. You were in more danger than he was.
âGreat,â Your head sharply turned at a faint sound to your right, watching a pack of birds fly up to the sky. Relieved that it wasnât some predator watching you from the shadows, you released a sigh, feeling a bead of sweat roll down the side of your face, âJust great.â
If you made it back in one piece, you had half a mind to promise yourself to never go back out into the forest again.
Neteyam considered himself an expert in the art of forgiveness.
âStop, I didnât mean to!â Kanu shouted at the top of his lungs as he ran as fast as his long legs would carry him, âIt was a mistake, brother! A mistake!â When he looked back to lock eyes with Neteyam, catching a fiery look that he was all too familiar with, he couldnât help but belt out a laugh, tossing his head back, âFor Eywaâs sake, give me a break!â
However, whenever it came to Kanu and his repeated nonsenseâŠhe was not so forgiving.
It took a while but when Neteyam finally caught up to him, he grabbed him by the neck and forced him down to the ground, face first. Kanu grunted, feeling his friend hover over a pressure point.
âRun from me again, and see what happens,â Neteyam growled in his ear.
Kanu turned his head to the side where he could see Neteyamâs face, smirking, âDo not kid yourself, brother. Next time, you will not catch me.â
Neteyam raised a brow, âOh, is that so?â He wrapped Kanuâs tail around his forearm and gripped it in his hand before he yanked it. Hard, âYou sure are confident in yourself. Donât provoke me.â
Kanu howled out, tapping the ground.
âOkay, okay! I wonât run, I understand! Please!â
âHm,â Neteyam let him go and stood up, still looking down at him, âIf youâre done playing games, I would like to go back to training.â
Kanu stood up, and dusted himself off the best that he could. Some stains were a little harder to get rid of, but he didnât care all that much. It was what was in his mouth that he was more concerned about. He frowned, and spat out a few specs of dirt that got on his tongue.Â
âUgh,â he gagged, almost positive that he had swallowed some of it already.
Eager to get back to work, Neteyam walked away, going back over to his bow that heâd been forced to toss in order to chase his friend around. Kanu sighed, and placed his hands on his hips as he watched him.
âHey, question.â
âI have an answer,â After retrieving his bow, he walked over to the tree next to it to pull an arrow out of the wood then moved on to do the same to the next.
âDoes becoming oloâeyktan someday frighten you? Even just a little?â
Neteyam grunted once he pulled the final arrow out of a tree. He stood in front of it, pondering on the question.Â
Becoming oloâeyktan was one of the most important roles of the naâvi. One of the greatest opportunities as the first born son of a clan leader.Â
For as long as Neteyam could remember, heâd always wanted to become a leader someday. Had dreamt many nights of leading his people into boundless prosperity, keeping the peace within all of the existing clans. Being remembered as one of the greatest omiticayan leaders ever known. As soon as he began to realize the work that had to go into being fully prepared to take on such a role â his aspirations for his future started to waver with uncertainty. It wasnât just the work but what would come with being a leader that he didnât foresee.Â
That was taking on a mate.
He couldnât be a leader without having someone to help him lead by his side. Where he thought he could do it all alone as he had since he was young was nothing but hopeful wishing. Mostly to be able to produce an heir just in case something tragic happened to him. It wasnât ever forced, but it was recommended.Â
Being the oloâeyktanâs oldest and most proudest son didnât mean he held the privilege to take over his fatherâs leadership without a mate. It was unavoidable. He had to do it, and soon. So his mother told him.
Neteyam blinked, and turned around to face Kanu with a blank expression, âNo. It doesnât frighten me. Why would it? I look forward to the day that I can finally lead our people and take on the perfect mate to lead by my side. How can one not be thrilled by such an opportunity?â
âThatâs a lie,â Kanu said, frowning.
Neteyam narrowed his eyes at him, âA lie? What reason would I have to lie? You know that I want to be a leader for our peoplââ
âTrue, but you cannot say you are thrilled to be tied down to someone you may not love.â
The rumors were just rumorsâŠor so Neteyam had assumed anyway.Â
His mother was adamant on making sure he found a mate before he became oloâeyktan. A good way to ensure his place as the clanâs leader was arranging him a mate. It sounded outrageous and utterly unnecessary to him because he believed that she would never do that to him. She wouldnât condemn him to someone he didnât know, and would be expected to love. She was his mother. She always expressed how she wanted the best for him. Damning him to a woman heâd never metâŠit didnât sound like her. He refused to believe it.
Neteyam snorted, a smirk playing at his lips, âItâs just like you to believe every rumor that you hear.â
Kanu shook his head, âand it is just like you to pretend to not see what is so clearly in front of you.â
Neteyam walked up to him, getting in his face, âYeah you would like that, wouldnât you?â Kanu swallowed, looking him in the eye, âAnd what would be your role in all of this, hm? Surely you wouldnât just be some innocent bystander. No⊠Of course not,â he gave a breathless chuckle, jaw clenched, âI wonder⊠I wonder how you would aid my mother in determining my fate and ruining my life because rest assured,â he took a step back before he turned around, scoffing, âIt would destroy me.â
Kanuâs ears flattened at that. He was right. Mating with someone you didnât love⊠It was a fate worse than death itself. To live a life being with someone with no connection to them, starting a family and growing old with that personâ Kanu couldnât imagine a life like that for himself, but maybe that was what differed between him and Neteyam. Kanu had it a lot easier compared to him. He didnât have to worry about his parents shoving him into an arranged mating. He was privileged, in that aspect. He could see that clearly now.
âBrother,â Kanu took an apprehensive step forward, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him, âForgive me. Understand that the last thing I want to see is you living a life that you are unhappy with. I do not wish for an arranged mating. I want you to be happy.â
Neteyam arched his brow as he peered up at his friend. There was a sorrowful look on his face. It made Neteyam laugh.
âDonât worry, I believe you,â he bumped into his shoulder before dropping the arrows in his hand, save for one, back into his quiver, âNow, are you ready to get back to training or should I leave you to let you go and pick a tree to cry behind?â
When Kanu locked eyes with him, he growled at the teasing smile on his face. Kanu smirked, cocking his head to the side, âHope youâre ready this time because I wonât go easy.â
Neteyam drew an arrow against the string of his bow, aimed at him, âNeither will I,â and let the arrowhead pierce through the wind.
By lunch time, Neteyam was burnt out from training.Â
Deciding to take a break for now, Kanu left to go and do whatever it was Kanu did when he didnât have anything to do while Neteyam headed back into the village to meet up with his father for his usual hunting lessons with him.Â
Not that he needed the lessons anymore, but recently, itâd been more about bonding with him than actually hunting. Helping him with catching supper for everyone while talking to him about things. Mostly about the past and the future. What it had been like for his father as the new oloâeyktan of the omaticaya clan back then, and what Neteyam could expect as his successor. There wasnât much Jake could teach him now. It was more about letting him gain those experiences so that he could lead better when it came time for him to.Â
Just as he was about to enter his parents hut, he stopped when he saw Kiri running up to him, Tuk in tow. He wouldâve brushed her off, figuring that she was going to bother him with her usual drivel, but the look on her face got his attention. She looked like sheâd seen a ghost or worse, a thanator.
With furrowed brows, he touched her arm, âHey, what's the matter?â
For the first time since he could remember, she was silent. He could see the hesitation in her eyes as clear as day. She knew something or maybe sheâd seen something. Either way, it had to have been terrible enough to keep her from blurting it out loud.
âMomâŠsheââ her lashes fluttered as her eyes fell to the ground below her, taking in a breath, âShe invited some woman here, to our village,â looking back at him, she bit into her lip, âMom said sheâs going to be your mate, âteyam. I think this is the arranged mating I heard about, but I never thought she would actually go through with it.â
His arm fell back to his side. He stared at his sister, blood running cold.
So it was true, then.Â
He was expected to be with someone he didnât know.
To love her, mate with her.
Sentence the rest of his days to someone he wouldnât even have a connection with.Â
His fists balled up. He wasnât going to allow this to happen. He loved and respected his mother, but he couldnât let her dictate his life. He could make his own decisions, and this was one he was not going to let her control.
âWhere are they?â He asked his sister and when she told him, he didnât waste any time getting there.
Kiri could feel her brotherâs anger, and hated that she couldnât do a thing to help him. Arranged matings were rare. They became uncommon over the ages, and only used in certain situations. She didnât see Neteyam as a situation. He just wanted to take his time. Become oloâeyktan, and then worry about something as minor as finding a mate later on in his life. It wasnât nearly as serious as their mother was making it.Â
The tsahikâs hut.Â
Of course, Neteyam mentally seethed. Why go to him first? It wasnât like he was supposed to meet the woman he was mated to be with for the rest of his life first, no. Course not.Â
Livid, he roughly lifted the flap up and ducked inside, letting his sisters in as well. He saw them chattering around the fire, his mother sitting next to a woman heâd never seen before. A woman he was supposed to refer to as his mate now. What a load of bullshit. Heâd die over several times before heâd let something like this happen to him.
When he cleared his throat, their voices died down. All eyes were on him, standing tall with a tick in his jaw. He felt like he could explode at any minute now.
âMy son,â Neytiri breathed excitedly as she quickly got on her feet and walked towards him, âIt is good you are here,â she smiled, pressing her hand against the middle of his back, missing the tension in his muscles, âYou are just in time.â
He looked at her, his emotions bouncing all around the hut in a flurry, âIn time. In time for what, mother? In time to ruin my life, is that it?â
âOhâŠIâŠâ She blinked, taken aback by his interrogative tone. She glanced at the new faces in the hut, slightly embarrassed by his reaction. âAre you upset about something? I donât understand whââ
âWhy Iâm angry?â Neteyam asked her, chest visibly rising and falling. He needed to calm down, but he couldnât. There was a faint ringing in his ears that kept growing louder and louder by the minute. Her act of betrayal made him lose control. His entire life had been planned and dictated. All he asked was for this one thing to be his. His choice, and his alone. Ever the controlling, overprotective mother that she could be, took that away from him. That was all he had left. Why wouldnât he be upset? âYou just will not let me make my own choices. I told you that I would find a mate. Maybe not now, but later. Later when Iâve decided to settle down. Me. Not you.â
Neytiriâs ears fell in slight shame. She had planned on letting Eywa determine her sonâs fate, but when sheâd heard that a nearby clan leader was looking for a mate for his daughter, she thought about Neteyam. How he would end up getting consumed with his duties as the new clan leader, and forget all about starting a life of his own. A family of his own. She was only looking out for him. Did he not see that? Did he not see that she was trying to do a good thing for him? For his future?Â
Jake watched the scene unfold until he couldnât anymore, âExcuse me for a minute,â he told the clan leader before he got up, and walked over to his wife and son, âHey.â Neytiri looked at him, but Neteyam didnât. He hissed, and directed his gaze elsewhere, brows pulled in. Jake sighed, âSon, listen to me. Your momâs got your best interest at heart. You know that. Câmon,â when he rested a hand on his sonâs shoulder, Neteyam finally made eye contact. Jake smiled, âAt least meet the girl. You might like her.â
To say that Jake approved of this arrangement wouldâve been a bit far fetched. He didnât approve, per say, he just saw no need to cause a scene over it. He found it incredibly rude for his son to walk in, and not even acknowledge the people that were there for him. To see, and meet him. His intended mate was elated to be formally introduced to him. Had heard all the stories, and knew they would be the perfect match. However, Neteyam barely even looked at her. One glance, and that was it. Jake could tell her spirits had been blown out like a candle now in the dark. It made him grimace. He felt a bit sorry for the girl, and wanted his son to be more welcoming despite how he felt about the situation.Â
âLetâs sit,â Jake patted Neteyamâs shoulder, gesturing him to cross around the fire, âWe should talk, and get to know one another.â
Neteyam mentally sighed. He didnât believe that there was anything to talk about because he didnât want to be in an arranged mating but he held too much respect for his parents. It was best to just sit and listen.
As he was about to sit down next to the clan leader, the man directed him to the spot next to his daughter. She glanced up at him and when their eyes met, she looked away, shifting in place. Neteyam sat next to her, tail curling by his side so as to not touch hers (or any part of her, for that matter). It felt a bit awkward, but he chose to ignore his surroundings and pretend he was elsewhere.Â
Jake cleared his throat, gathering everyoneâs attention, âThis is my eldest son, Neteyam. Neteyam, this is SeynĂ€ Te Ayu Leyeyzo'ite. The chiefâs youngest daughter and princess of the Raâtecaya clan.â
Neteyam looked at the girl to his side, and pressed the tips of his fingers against his forehead, nodding, âOel ngati kamie, SeynĂ€ te Ayu Leyeyzoâite.â
She bloomed a tiny smile, repeating the same greeting, âOel ngati kamie, Neteyam te Sulli Tsâyekitan. It is a pleasure to meet you.â
The Ash tribe were exceptionally different from him and his people. They lived in the mountains, far away from the chaos of the rest of the world.Â
They were known for their strength in numbers, their well trained warriors and their strong leadership. Chief Tarang, one of the best clan leaders to ever live. He took great pride in many of their war achievements, having bested some of the strongest clans in history. As battle ready as the Ash tribe were, they were non-confrontational. Didnât seek out war and destruction just because they were good at it. They valued peace and honor above all else. It was one of the reasons why Jake and Neytiri hoped Tarangâs daughter would take a liking to their son. A union between the omaticaya and the raâtecaya clans would make them strong but also symbolize that two different clans could come together to form a good relationship. Something that hadnât been done in decades.
It was to also prepare Neteyam to become oloâeyktan. He needed a mate, and needed someone strong and ready to be by his side when it was time for him to take his fatherâs place as clan leader. Neytiri knew that it was going to take a while for her son to come around with all of this, but she hoped that one day, he would understand.Â
âGreat,â Tarang said, a big smile on his face before glancing between his daughter and Neteyam, âPerhaps these two could use the privacy?â
Kaâul, the chiefâs mate, hummed, placing a gentle hand over Tarangâs with a warm knowing smile of her own, âYes. That would be wonderful.â Her vermillion eyes sparkled against the fire, creating flames of their own. Tarang turned his hand over to intertwine their fingers, and gave her a look. He then nodded at Jake and Neytiri.
âThen we can discuss the details.â
Neteyam could care less what they planned on talking about. If it was going to get him out of that stuffy hut then he was more than willing to leave them all to it.
Like a gentleman, he stood up and held out a hand. SeynÀ looked at him in mild shock but pushed it aside, and took his hand. Feeling how warm and soft it was, her mind wandered as he helped her up and led her out of the hut. When the cool afternoon breeze hit her, she breathed. The sun that slithered through the trees decorated her skin beautifully. She let her eyes close for a brief moment to soak it all in, missing the way Neteyam stared at her.
He wouldâve been a fool to not notice how beautiful she was. Her long, white hair blew with the wind, splitting apart and dancing in its waves. How the two long beaded braids at the front curled around her neck and shoulders, desperate to join the rest of her hair in the current.Â
She looked otherworldly. She definitely stood out amongst the villagers, catching eyes from all around. They stopped in their tracks to stare at her, some men and women whispering amongst each other in awe. If Neteyam supported the arranged mating that he was in, his chest wouldâve swelled with pride for the attention that she was garnishing. He wouldâve stepped closer to her, drew her near to him and walked her through the village to show her around but to also show her off. Would feel proud to call her his, but unfortunately, he didnât feel that way about her.Â
From the intricate jewelry in her hair and what laid on her forehead down to her specially made white top and long white loincloth, she was a beauty beyond compare. Now that they were back under the sunâs bright rays, he could see that her eyes were a mixture of fire and gold. How dull her skin looked, almost an ash color. Not blue like him and his people were, but a faint blue. Barely noticeable, if he wasnât staring so hard.
âWill you show me around?â She asked him, a twinkle in her eyes, startling him. He quickly averted his eyes, and cleared his throat.
âYes, of course,â and took the lead once again.
Their trek through the village was a quiet one. It was awkward and tense for him but she was at peace, eyeing the villagers back and smiling at the children that followed them, oohing and aahing after her. Neteyam felt like falling through the earth. He didnât care for the extra attention, and didnât want anything to do with having a mate right now but truthfully, there was nothing he could do about it. He wasnât dumb. He knew that his parents and hers were going over the fine print of their arrangement by making a pĂ€nu. A promise between clans to seal the deal. There was no breaking a pĂ€nu unless you meant war.Â
Neteyam couldnât back out of it no matter what his feelings were about the situation, and that was why heâd gotten upset with his mother earlier. A mixture of things, but mainly because he remembered how sacred an arranged mating was. That was another reason why it wasnât very common now. It wasnât something clans practiced anymore unless they were forced to.Â
He mentally sighed. His life had just gotten a lot harder.Â
âHow do you feel about this arrangement?â She suddenly asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
âWellâŠâ
She giggled, and nodded, âRight. Better question. How do you feel about being mated to me for life?â
He sent her a strained look that only made her laugh. She figured that was her answer.
âMmm, your village feels like home,â she muttered, steering the conversation elsewhere, âReminds me of what I left today.â They passed by a hut with an older woman sitting outside of it, weaving together what looked to be a basket of some sort. A child was sitting next to her, seeming to help her by supplying her with the materials she needed. SeynĂ€ nodded at the two, giggling at the childâs shocked expression. She directed her attention forward again, walking gracefully, âA home away from home sounds like a dream, donât you think?â She looked at him, finding his profile rather distracting.
Neteyam didnât feel like engaging in a meaningless conversation, but he didnât want to be rude. His father would only dig into him about not being fully welcoming, so he indulged her.
âDo you like it here so far?â He asked her back, wondering if she would have to sleep with him tonight since they were going to be a mated pair. He hoped not. He wanted to hang onto his free will for a little while longer.Â
SeynĂ€ hummed, looking at her surroundings again. âI do. It is pleasant. Very lively, unlike my village. We areâŠâ she searched for the right words, eyebrows twitching together, ââŠfairly independent people. We stay to ourselves, and do not mingle often. Even the way your family sat by the fire back there,â the light in her eyes dimmed in thought, âWe do not do that.â
At first, Neteyam didnât care to converse with her but as he listened to her speak, he found himself unable to block her out. Maybe it was the sadness in her voice that he wanted to soothe. To let her know how repentant he felt for her. He had to admit, not spending several moments around his family everyday sounded miserable. He was also quite independent, but he liked being around his parents and siblings. They were a part of the sole reason he woke up everyday. Not just for himself, but for them. Their happiness, their well-being, all of that mattered a lot to him. The way SeynĂ€ spoke about her people and her family and the way they did things â it couldnât have sounded any more heartbreaking than that.Â
He schooled his features to remain indifferent, but there was a twinge of pain inside. He didnât know what that was like, but he didnât have to know to understand what life had been like for her. He could sympathize.
âWell youâre here now,â he commented, feeling her eyes shift back to the side of his face, âand because you are here,â he looked down at her, a corner of his lips twitching up, ââyou will get to experience all of that yourself. Know what it is like to wake up together, hunt and eat together, celebrate and dance around the fireâŠtogether.â SeynĂ€âs lips parted at his kind words, her heart thumping in her chest. âA home away home, is that how you put it?â He smirked, humming, âI guess this is where you are meant to be then.â
Was it foolish of her to feel this way about someone so early on? She had only just met the man⊠But something was there. She could feel it. This compelling pull towards him. It was undeniable. There was something about him that called to her. Something that she couldnât describe.Â
The feeling of finding a mate was a special one. It was a different for everyone, but it usually centered around seeing that person over everyone else. Like a light had come from the sky, shining down on just them. That was how she knew.
Right then and there, she knew that he was the one.Â
That he was her mate.Â
She cut their eye contact short by ripping away from his gaze, finding the ground she walked on a little more interesting. The tips of her ears burned.Â
âThank you, Neteyam. Youâre too kind.â
He hummed, peering forward with his hands behind his back, âNo need to thank me. I know this union isnât wanted by either of us, but we have to make the most of it or else we will just end up resenting each other,â he watched a group of children run past the two of them, giggling and chasing one another, âI, for one, do not want to spend the rest of my life hating someone I am supposed to love,â When he glanced down at her, he found her eyes back on him again. They were swirling with an emotion he couldnât quite place. âSo I will try my best to love you, provide for you and protect you. But know that this is not what I wanted for myself. You will not be alienated from me, but I cannot promise my heart to you. I will not cheat or lie. I will be faithful to you, but giving my heartâŠâ he shook his head, returning his focus back ahead, eyes hardened, âThat is something I will not promise to give you. I cannot.â
Just as soon as sheâd felt a pull towards him, she was immediately pushed back. Reality hit her harder than she couldâve expected. He didnât share the same feelings as her. He didnât even want this arranged mating to even happen. He didnât want to love her, didnât want to give her his heart, didnât want any part of her or this entire ordeal.Â
On the outside, she kept her composure and watched him walk ahead of her, thankful that heâd set his back to her because she didnât know how long she could keep the tears back. All she wanted since she was a little girl was to find the sort of love that her parents had. A connection made from the stars, kissed by Eywa herself. Even though their mating was arranged, she believed that there was still a chance for them. She thought that he just needed to see her, and would fall in love with her at first sight. But that didnât happen. He couldnât have shown his revulsion for their arrangement more clearer to her than he had.
Once he was done showing her around, he was going to offer her lunch that he had picked himself earlier but she told him that sheâd started to feel unwell. That she needed to lay down for a while. He figured it was because of the long trip her family made across the plains so he nodded, and wished her well. She didnât say anything but smiled, and went on her way. He didnât notice how forced her smile had been because he was relieved to be back in his own presence again. Kanu wasnât around and heâd just gotten rid of SeynĂ€ so he was rejoicing.Â
However, he couldnât get it out of his head that he was going to be forced to mate with someone he didnât even know, that he didnât even have an initial connection with. SeynĂ€ wasnât his type. Not by a long shot. Heâd heard about her accomplishments as a warrior and knew that she was strong, but her personality didnât match him. Didnât match what he was looking for. Plus, there was no spark. No banter, no meaningless arguing about nothing and no playfulness, even though he could come off quite stiff himself. He enjoyed the teasing comments and such, but he got none of that from her. It was disappointing, but expected because he didnât choose her. His mother did.
His teeth clenched again at that. It was going to take him a long time to move past her deceit, but he had to preoccupy himself with other things until then. And, perhaps, keep contact with her at a minimum, if he could help it.
Deciding that a breath of fresh air was needed to think without being bothered, he headed off into the forest in hopes to clear his mind, but had no clue what he was going to end up finding whilst on the trail.
âFuck this.â
You crumpled up the map in your hands before shoving it back in your pack. It was useless when you had no clue where you even were at this point. Everything looked the same. You were almost positive that youâd gone in a circle a few times.Â
A map that was supposed to lead you back to the lab. What a laugh. Youâd been roaming around the forest for so long, you knew that Theo mustâve made it back by now. If you were caught under the dark night sky, you hoped that he would relay the message that you were still out and definitely lost. Maybe some reinforcements would come running to your rescue or something.
âThis is not happening,â You said under your breath, plunging a boot into a muddy puddle, forgetting about dodging them now. You were much too tired to think about anything but escaping the forest and getting back to the outpost.Â
With a grim sigh, you shifted the pack back down your shoulder to reach in it. You pulled out your water canister, hoping that there was still some left. Theo had used it last, but before he couldâve downed the entire thing, you snatched it away from him. So, there was a good chance heâd left some. Putting it up to your lips, you were disappointed. Nothing. Just as youâd feared.Â
Your eyes begrudgingly searched the area for a water source, but found nothing. You stumbled forward, mindful of your step, and tried to listen for a river or something near. The silence was deafening.Â
It seemed as though the forest was against you, but you werenât ready to give up just yet.
It wasnât hot, but paired with walking for hours non stop with no water and carrying a pack on your back the entire time could feel a little stifling. After a few tiresome steps, you leaned your shoulder up against a nearby tree, taking a small break. There had to be some sort of water source around. Youâd come across plenty of animals to be sure of it. Surely they wouldnât flock somewhere that didnât contain a river or even a small stream. Hell, youâd take rain at this point. Anything to keep you from passing out.
Spurring you from your thoughts, you heard something. Craning your neck, you peered up into the trees above you, eyes squinted to fend off some of the sun rays. Aside from the rustling tree leaves, you didnât see much movement. Maybe itâd just been a figment of your imagination. You didnât doubt it. Without food or water, you were going a little delirious.Â
Just as you were about to give up and set up camp, another sound caught your attention.Â
Trickling.
Water?
You sprung off of the tree, and trampled through some low hanging leaves until you were met with a wide stream up ahead. The water was clear enough to see through, telling you that it was safe to drink from. There even looked to be fishes swimming through the water. You knew how to catch fish, skin them and cook them so you felt lucky. Though, for now, you were just grateful for the water.
âThank god,â you walked forward and let your pack slip from your shoulder as you dropped down in front of the bank, hands pushing off into the water.
You cupped a good amount in your hands, and drank until you couldnât anymore. Once you felt satisfied enough, you leaned back and sighed. The mud that covered your shirt made you cringe, looking down at it. Youâd tripped earlier, landing right in a pile of mud. With no way to clean it, you kept it on but now that you could, you didnât waste any time tugging it over your head to wash it.
You shoved it in the water, and started to wash through it, not caring if it came out perfectly clean or not. You just needed to remove most of the mud so it wouldnât feel uncomfortable when you put it back on.Â
Too distracted to notice, Neteyam sat crouched in a tree not too far from where you were stationed. He kept himself hidden, watching you. Heâd been following you for a while now. Initially, heâd wanted to take a walk to think some things over but didnât expect to come across a wandering human that was covered in mud, griping to herself. Odd scene, but curious enough.Â
A human, this far out, was peculiar enough but seeing you by the stream wearing nothing but a small piece of fabric to cover your breasts was enough to stir something in him. It was strange because he was used to his people wearing so little. There was nothing ever sexual about it, but you were human. He knew that your kind tended to wear a lot more than his people did. So, to see so much of your skin under the sunâs pure sunlight, unaware of him watching you the way he was â it made him unable to look away.
His tail curled at the sight of you looking around you before unhooking your bra. You set it at a spot where the sun could catch it, and pulled your drenched shirt from the water. After inspecting it, you nodded and put it near the other piece of fabric, right on the rocks. Then, you stood up, and shoveled through your pack for something. When you faced Neteyamâs way, for some reason, he looked away. His eyes fell elsewhere, embarrassed that heâd been staring at you. He didnât know why. You had no clue he was even there so why did he care?
After finding whatever it was you were looking for, you turned back around, back facing him again. He sighed, and looked down at you again to watch you wrap a long strip of what looked to be some sort of cloth around your midriff up to your chest. It didnât look like anything heâd ever seen, but it seemed as though you were using it to cover your chest again. Ah. He knew what you were doing now. Your shirt was too damp to put back on so you were letting it dry, as well as that other piece of clothing youâd had over your chest.Â
Once you were done with that, you moved on to stepping into the stream, after youâd taken your boots off. He imagined that you were getting ready to clean your feet or some other part of your body but what he witnessed next surprised him.Â
You stood there for a good minute, completely still. So still, if he looked hard enough, the fishes in the water forgot that you werenât supposed to be there and swam past you. You held your breath, staring down at the water as you timed you just right. Once a good sized fish swam between your legs, you dove down and caught it with your bare hands. Neteyamâs eyes widened at the sight. Without the use of a bow or a knife, youâd caught a fight with your hands. He was greatly impressed. He didnât think humans possessed intelligence this vast.
You cheered to yourself and tiptoed out of the water, happily with your meal. After killing it merifully, you dug through your bag again. Pulling out a sharp knife, you went back over and began scaling it.Â
Neteyam sat down on the branch he was on, and leaned his back against the tree, eyes still on you. He placed his bow in between his thighs, and got comfortable. He had a feeling he was going to be there for a while.Â
While he watched you, there was someone else lurking in the trees watching him.
The moment that you realized that you werenât alone was the exact same moment you watched a tall blue man jump from above, bow raised to save your life.Â
Because heâd saved you, he came out of the attack with a deep wound. He was reluctant to help you, but after some time, he let you into his personal space to treat him. Once it was cleaned and bandaged up, you thanked him and packed up. You were going to finish finding your way through the forest, but heâd suddenly picked you up and packed you off into the trees.Â
Breathless and surprised, you tried to ask him what that had been about but noticed that heâd saved you. Again. You were grateful, of course, but he was a stubborn one. Also a bit childish with the way he kept provoking you to get upset, obviously enjoying your reaction to him. Even though he was way taller than you and evidently stronger, you still held your ground well and told him exactly what was on your mind. He found it amusing and a little brazen, but he didnât back down either.
âIt sounds like heâs calling for you,â you mentioned again, taking a step forward, âWhy donât you go down and talk to hiââ
You didnât expect him to catch you in time, but he did. Held you close against him, making sure you werenât going to slip from his grasp. He was warm, that was your first thought. Then, you thought about how odd it was to feel his nose against your neck. You could hear a faint inhale from him, and wondered why he was smelling you. Did you have an odor? Well, you had been walking around the forest for a few hours under a hot sun and didnât have access to a shower anywhere so maybe you did. It made you want to curl up in embarrassment.Â
You struggled in his grasp, feeling awkward now, âWhat are you doing?â You tried to ask, but no answer.Â
Your face twisted up in surprise when you felt something hot and wet slide across your skin. With another gasp, you tried to pull away from him but he held you against him in a tight grip.Â
âNo,â he commanded in a deep tone, and ran his tongue up to your ear, âbe still, tawtute.â
The deep tone of his voice, the growling, it made you feel shameful because instead of being scared â you were awfully turned on.Â
That realization only made you try and get out of his hold all the more.
You struggled in his grasp, trying to get a look at his face, âWhat the hell is your problem?â
He didnât respond, and it angered you.
âHey,â you tried again, finally allowed wiggle room to look at him, eyes searching his face with a frown, âwhy did youâah!â You were dropped back on your feet, but didnât have time to find your footing. With a scream, you fell backwards off of the tree branch and soared down.Â
The fall felt longer than it was. There was no part in you that felt like you were going to make it. That you were going to survive falling from such a great height. Youâd said your little prayers, and to your surprise â they were answered.
Caught by another beautiful blue man, peering down at you with wild curiosity.
âPesu? A tawtute?â
Kanu was his name. Friendly, chatty and very flirty. At least he seemed bearable in conversation compared to the other guy. Someone that had just been all up on you a moment ago but walked a ways ahead like he didnât want to even be near you. Kanu talking to you the entire way to the village didnât silence the buzzing thoughts of what youâd done to make his friend hate you all of the sudden. It didnât make sense, and you aimed to ask him about it at some point.
However, the moment that the three of you entered the village, you were pulled from your thoughts and stared back at the villagers staring at you. Kanu walked past them without even acknowledging them and when you looked up at him, you noticed that he wasnât wearing his usual smile. His eyes were hard and focused, lips tight, and shoulders tensed. He almost looked a little uncomfortable, but also annoyed by something. Was it the villagers? You could hear some of them whispering but of course, you were unable to understand what they were saying. Maybe he could hear them.Â
âKanuââ
âNeteyam, will the tsahik see her?â Kanu asked his friend, his frown deepening, unintentionally interrupting you, âShe is a sky person. She is not welcomed, but she is wounded. Will she treat her?â
Neteyam grunted without looking back at him, âI donât know. For her sake, letâs hope so.â
You didnât understand what was going on or what they were saying so you remained quiet for the rest of the way.Â
Once the three of you arrived at a hut, Neteyam opened the flap and held it as Kanu carried you inside. It was warm. There was a fire lit in the middle, and a woman near a table at the other side of the hut, mixing something. You stayed silent, eyes following Neteyam as he crossed over to her, saying something to her too low for you to catch. You waited, and when she turned around to look at you, her eyes widened.
She looked at Neteyam, âShe is wounded, you say?â He nodded.
âYes, grandmother. She is in need of your aid. Could youâŠ?â
Moâat nodded, turning back around to gather her supplies, âOh yes, of course. Set her down on the mat over there, and have her remove her shirt. I will need full access to that wound to clean it.â
Kanu, having heard the conversation, moved around the fire as well to set you down on the mat he was told to. When he made a move to stand up, you grabbed his arm with a small, confused frown.
âWhat is going on?â
Kanu smiled, and bent back down, extremely close to your face. You made a move to back up, but he placed a hand at your nape to keep you there, âMmm, you are going to be treated, little one. You are hurt, but the tsahik can help you. Do as she says, and you will be fine. Okay?â
Feeling butterflies in your stomach, you gave him a slow, subtle nod to show that you understood him. Satisfied, he pinched your cheek and stood back up, rounding the fire to stand at the other side of the hut to give Moâat the space that she would need to treat you.
As Moâat was still busy gathering what she would need to help, you watched Neteyam bend down at your other side, fingering at your shirt. You inched away, not knowing what he was trying to do, disregarding the smirk that slowly spread across his face.
âShy, are we? One with such a filthy mouth shouldnât be so shy, am I right?â
He thumbed at the edge of your shirt again, tugging at it, causing you to try and smack his hand away, flushed from head to toe, âI donât know what youâre talking about, but why are you trying to take my shirt off? I would very much like to keep it on, thank you.â
Neteyam chuckled, leaning back a bit, âDo not think I would like to see a tawtute like you naked. Would much rather pluck out my own eyes than see something soâŠâ he eyed you down, finding the way you were protecting yourself from his touch amusing. ââŠdispleasing.â
You gasped, and he almost laughed. âDispleasing? Well why donât you leave if you donât want to see me? No oneâs forcing you to stay.â
He snorted, âI know, trust me.â He was going to elaborate further on why he really couldnât leave your side, but that was a conversation that needed to be saved for later. âAnyway,â he pulled at your shirt again, smiling at the slap across his hand again, âYou have to take this off. She has to treat you. She cannot do so with this on.â
You frowned, âYeah, but the wound is on my leg. Why would I need to take my shirt off if I donâtââ
Neteyam ignored your protesting and pushed your shirt up to reveal a fairly large scratch across your abdomen. How you didnât at least feel it by now, you had no idea but you stared in awe at it. You couldnât help but entertain the thought that maybe you had a few more injuries on your body that you werenât even aware of.
He grunted, and folded his arms.Â
âSee? Remove it.â He stood up, eyes never leaving you, âOr donât let her help you. Your choice.â He walked to stand beside Kanu, a bored expression now on his face.
You pouted to yourself, feeling silly for being so difficult. At first, you thought that he was trying to see something else but he was only trying to help you. Still, it didnât make up for the fact that he had let you fall out of the tree earlier. You planned on never letting him live that down.Â
Just as you were about to undress, you saw the flap of the hut fly open and a woman walk in. She was beautiful, if you didnât count the chaotic look on her face.Â
âOh great mother, Neteyam!â She raced towards him, and pulled him into a tight hug. He smiled a little, and hugged back but tried to pull away.
âMother, itâs fine. Iâm okayââ
âWhere did you go?â She asked him, brows pulled down in an angry frown, pulling back to look him over, âYou were gone for hours, my son. What happened?â
He was going to respond when he saw SeynĂ€, and her parents walk in. They mustâve heard the rumors about a human in the village and it was so late at night, of course they got curious. He couldnât blame them, but the last person he wanted to see right now was SeynĂ€.
She gave him a tiny smile that he didnât reciprocate. He wasnât in the mood. It was late, and he had you to deal with.Â
He could feel a headache coming on.
âNeteyam!â
Tuk came running out from behind her mother, and hugged his waist. He gently patted her head with a soft smile.
âTuk.â
Kiri waltzed in, and was about to say something snarky when her eye caught yours. Her mouth dropped open in shock.
âWhoa, whoâs that?â
Neytiri turned her head your way, and it was as if the room had been struck by lightning. No one said a word. It was like everyone had stopped breathing all at the same time. If not for the crackling of the fire that separated you from her, it would have been dead silent.Â
Her stare was cold. Scarier than anyone youâd ever seen.Â
Within a split second, she was rushing towards you with her fangs bared, hissing.Â
âWoah there,â Jake stepped in her way, physically holding her back, âLetâs take a second, yeah?â He caught Neteyamâs eye who looked ready to jump in at any second. Neytiri tried to push Jake out of the way, but he held her firm, âHey,â he blocked her sight of you by getting in her face, âStop, okay? What are you doing? We donât do that. We donât attack unless we have a good reason to, right?â
âWhy are you protecting that demon?!â She asked him, eyes feral and wide, âYou dare to stand in my way, to put yourself between a human and your mate?!â
Jake took a glance behind him at you, silently apologizing for the situation and looked back at her, âYes. Sheâs harmless. Neteyam and Kanu would not have brought her here if they didnât trust her so we have to trust her too.â
Neytiri hissed in his face, and broke out of his grasp. She didnât take the opportunity to advance on you, but she held her ground, âDo not tell me to trust. I trust who I trust, and that thing will not get it from me.â
Youâd long put the puzzle together that she was Neteyamâs mother and that Jake, the one youâd heard so much about, was his father. The great Toruk Makto and his warrior mate, Neytiri. Knowing this, it hurt to watch her get so upset by your mere presence. You knew that it was because you were human. Youâd learned from Max and Norm that Neytiri wasnât quite fond of humans and was on edge everytime one had to come strutting through her village. Understandably so, if what you heard about what happened to her family was true. Moâat was her only living relative from those dark times. Of course, with kids now, she was grateful, but she missed the ones sheâd lost. She had no plans of losing anyone else, and tensed up around sky people for a reason.
Under everyoneâs radar, Tuk moseyed over to you. Startling you, she smiled and apologized for the scare. She bent down, seeing that she felt a bit too tall standing up in comparison to you, and nodded.
âMy name is Tuk. It is nice to meet you. What is your name?â
Still shaken up, you hesitantly told her your name and she gasped, âPretty! Can I give you a nickname?â
You tilted your head, âNickname? WellâŠI donât see why not,â you smiled back and her eyes widened.
âOkay! I will think of one, and tell you later, okay?â
Her bright spirit and infectious energy made you almost forget that you were in the same room as the woman that wanted nothing more than to murder you right where you sat.Â
You nodded, âI canât wait.â
Tuk beamed happily and was going to say something when she was caught off.
âI will need all of you to leave,â Moâat said aloud, peering over her shoulder at the group still circled around the fire pit near you, âI will need to heal and dress her wounds. The girl deserves privacy, no?â
Jakeâs eyes darted from his children to Neytiri before he placed a hand at her back, ignoring the pointed look she gave him, âCome on everyone, letâs head out and give her some air. Tuk?â
Tuk blew out an exasperated breath, stood up from your side and nodded, âOkay,â she said in a dispirited tone and followed after her father but not before sending you a wave and a small smile, âSee you tomorrow.â
You smiled and waved back before you felt something hit you over the head. It only stung for a second or two. Moâat came around you, holding a wooden stirring tool in her hand. You reached up, and scratched at the spot you were hit at, âUm, ow?â
âUndress, child,â she retorted, shaking your head.
âAlright, alright.â
You took your shirt off, and sat there as she squatted down to your level to begin treating you.Â
You cringed, âah,â hissing at the sting of pain. You felt Moâat dab at the wound on your shoulder with a damp cloth in a not-so-delicate way. She rose a brow at the look you gave her, and continued on.Â
Once everyone left, Neteyam stood in place, arms folded with a deep set frown on his face as he watched yours twist up in discomfort. He could feel your emotions. They were everywhere but the ones he could pin down were fluctuating between feeling anxious, tensed and drained. He could tell that all you wanted to do was rest for the night, but he couldnât risk your wounds getting infected. Not like he was worried about your health. He just needed to make sure once you woke up in the morning, you would be cleared to leave the village and never come back. Although, since his father was aware of your presence now, it was unlikely he would let you go until you were fully healed and able to travel on your own.
Neteyam almost rolled his eyes. Much to his dismay, of course.
âOw,â you whined, and Moâat clicked her tongue, shaking her head.
âChild, do not be so soft,â she dipped the cloth in her bowl of water to drain it before gathering it with water again, cleaning another wound of yours, âThis is your doing, is it not? Perhaps you will learn to be more careful next time, hm?â You winced, biting your lip from hissing out again.Â
Neteyam clenched his teeth at the way your fists were balled up in your lap. He had the urge to tell his grandmother to stop what she was doing and let him take over, but the more sensible side of him kept him rooted in place. He didnât care about you. If he was right and his body had chosen you as his mate, then it was simple. His sudden feelings towards you werenât of his own volition. The need to protect you, harm anyone willing to harm you and officially make you his mate wasnât him. There was no reason to listen to any of the things his body wanted to do in thought of you. He still had control. He would continue to have control. He wasnât going to let himself be brought down and ruled by something so pitiful as this. He was much stronger than that.
SeynĂ€ stood next to him, rigid, glaring down at you. Her body rattled with anger. Your mere presence made her want to revolt. She couldnât stand the sight of you, but witnessing the way Neteyam was with you compared to how he was with her â it infuriated her in ways she couldnât begin to explain.
Fairness was a luxury in her world. She was aware that Neteyam didnât love her. That it would take time for him to see her and come to love her the way she wanted him to, but was it selfish of her to have wanted him to fall at first sight? He didnât even want to stand next to her, let alone be in the same room as her. Took one glance during their first meeting earlier, and ignored her ever since.Â
She wasnât expecting him to hold her hand or kiss her every two seconds, but could he at least acknowledge her and not make her feel as alienated as she had the moment she stepped into the village? He promised he would try, but it didnât look like he was upholding his end of the deal.Â
âSome of these wounds are deep, child,â Moâat frowned as she began to wrap one of your wounds with a roll of gauze, âWhat on earth happened out there?âÂ
You didnât feel like going into the subject as most of your injuries came from when youâd fallen out of the tree earlier. Especially when Neteyam couldâve prevented it from happening in the first place. Kanu wasnât around to save either of you from explaining it, either. Though, you were more focused on why Moâat was using modern wound care to treat you to think about a response.
Neteyam cleared his throat, eyes still on you, âIt was my fault, grandmother. Do not take it out on her.â
Appalled, Seyna snapped her head at him, lips pressed into a thin line, âMa âteyam, do not take up for that demon! You did nothing wrong, Iâm sure of it!â She exclaimed, speaking in naâvi on purpose so that you wouldnât understand their conversation. For some reason, that irked Neteyam.
When he looked at her, he didnât even turn his head. His intense gaze drilled a hole through hers from the side, causing her to take a step backwards from him. âWhy are you still here? Do you not have someplace else to be? Hm?âÂ
A whimper fell past her lips, eyebrows pulled together in disbelief.Â
âWellâ well because I thoughtâŠâ he stared at her, lip curled, jaw flexing. His presence was becoming so suffocating, she found it hard to breathe. âI thoughtââ
âI donât care,â he interrupted, shifting his gaze back onto you, ignoring the way you were invested into the conversation, appearing concerned. He switched to his native tongue, highly irritated now, âI do not need you hovering over me. It is pathetic, and below your status, SeynĂ€. Mind your manners or I will get the impression that you arenât as suited to be my mate as your father has told my father.âÂ
SeynĂ€âs lip trembled, clearly trying to hold back tears. Her nails punctured her skin, feeling the cool ooze of blood coat her fingers.Â
âI donât understand. Does she mean something to you? Why do you care about some human?â
Neteyam glared at her, âDo I need to explain myself to you? Someone I met today; a stranger, no less. What business I have with anyone is none of yours. Do you understand? Do not question me again, and I wonât be so nice the next time that you do.â He eyed her down, more upset than he had intended to get with her. âYou may go or was there something else?â
His quick dismissal of her made SeynĂ€âs stomach drop. It was utterly degrading, and it made her feel insignificant to him. Lower than low, less than dirt. She wasnât even a blip on his radar, and she couldnât help but entertain the idea that maybe there was something going on between you and him. That she had lost to a human before the battle even began.
How sickening. Her hands clenched tighter, settling the fire in her eyes onto you. She was angry, livid with the idea that you dared to even think you could match up to her. She was his mate. Not you. Why did he even care to stay with you if he hated humans so much? She couldnât even stand the smell of you so why wasnât he just as repulsed, if not more?
The questions spinning around in her head only made the dull ache thicken into a pounding thrum, mere seconds away from blooming into a full on headache. She couldnât stand the way he looked at her and spoke to her as if she was some bothersome child tugging at his clothing for attention. She was his mate. She deserved to be treated as such.
With a sharp sniffle, she stepped back into his space and tossed her hair back over her shoulder, âAs you wish,â and stomped to the entrance of the hut, roughly pushing the flap out of the way, stepping out into the night.
You watched the tension in Neteyamâs shoulders drop, catching a breath of relief slip past his lips. He set his bow against the wall of the hut, and sat down, folding his legs into a comfortable position just across from you, opposite of the fire pit. He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly exhausted from the dayâs events.Â
Moâat glanced at her grandson before giving you a firm pat on the back, âIâm finished.â
With a grunt, she stood up with her bowl and walked over to the table that was brought in from an outpost to help organize her herbs and other medicinals. As she worked to clean her station up, you stared into the fire, too apprehensive to look at the man across from you. You could feel his eyes on you, but didnât know what to say back. That conversation between him and the woman that had just left seemed intense, even though you couldnât understand a word that they were saying. It felt like a conversation you shouldnât have been in on.
You swallowed nervously, twiddling with your fingers.Â
Then, you watched from your peripheral vision as Neteyam stood up and rounded the fire. When he kneeled next to you, your body tensed up. His brows twitched at that.Â
âI am not going to hurt you, foolish woman,â He said in a low tone, almost close enough to feel his breath on your skin. He sighed, a soft look in his eyes that he was thankful you didnât catch, âYou are very troublesome, you know that?â
You looked up at him, having to stretch your neck to fully take in his entire face, lips pursed, âTroublesome? So youâre saying itâs my fault that I almost fell to my death earlier?â
He chuckled, and it made your heart skip a beat.Â
He tilted his head, and lifted a finger to your cheek to push away a stray piece of your hair from your face, eyeing the way your lips parted, âMmm. Yes.â You gasped, and he smirked, âThough, is it my fault that you are tiny and clumsy?â
His heated gaze made you drop your eyes to your lap again, suddenly finding your hands a lot more interesting than the conversation.
âNoâŠbutââ
âYou will sleep with me tonight.â
Your head snapped up at him, eyes wide, âIâhuh?â
He hummed and stared at you for a moment longer before he stood to his full height, fixing the leather armor on his arm, âI will wait outside. When you are finished here, I will take you to my home.â
âNeteyam, wait, but Iââ He didnât give you a chance to finish. He lifted the flap to the hut, and stepped out, leaving you alone with Moâat, who you forgot was still there in the first place. You deflated and slumped in place. âHe never lets me finish my sentences,â you moped bitterly to yourself. âAsshole.â
Moâat chuckled as she came walking back over, drying her hands on a clean cloth, âYou two are like night and day, I tell you,â you tilted your head back to look at her, catching a faint smile on her face, âVery entertaining, indeed.â
You dropped your eyes back onto the fire in front of you, realizing how warm your face had gotten. Your mind reeled with the imprinted image of him that you couldnât get rid of no matter how hard you tried. The way the flames of the fire danced across his face, lingering on his dark eyes and plump lips. How you felt his body heat pulse against your own, dangerously close. When slips of his dark hair fell over his shoulder when he had bent down to your level, almost brushing your shoulder. From the way heâd looked at you, how warm and gentle his voice had been when speaking to you just now â it all made you want to melt right into the ground.Â
Then, you remembered where he told you that you were going to be sleeping tonight.
Beads of sweat cascaded down from your temples, sneakily tumbling towards your chest wrappings, between the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitched.
Alone, with him.Â
With Neteyam, of all people.
âOh god,â you breathed, unable to fathom what a night with him was going to be like.Â
The sexual tension was obvious, but heâd made it clear how much he couldnât stand you. How were the two of you going to sleep under the same roof if you couldnât get along?Â
Oddly enough, he was the least of your worries. It was that woman from earlier that you had to really worry about. She seemed to like him, so the thought of her finding out that youâd slept in the same vicinity as him⊠Her possible reaction made you shiver. It wasnât going to be pretty, that was all you knew.Â
You put your face in your hands, and groaned.Â
Was it too late to run off into the forest without anyone noticing?Â
Only one way to find out.Â
Your plan of running back out into the forest without anyone noticing was snuffed out the moment that you stepped outside. It was pouring down with rain, but Neteyam stood there as if the sky was clear. He didnât let the rain affect him, and stood with his arms crossed, waiting for you like heâd said he would.Â
When you stepped out, his head turned towards you. He looked you over, slowly, before he bent down. You quirked your head to the side, not understanding what he was doing, watching as he put his hands out behind him.
After squatting there for a few moments, he looked at you over his shoulder with a raised brow, âWhat is it?â
You snorted, giving him a funny look, âI dunno. You tell me.â
He almost rolled his eyes. It seemed he would have to spell it out for you.
âGet on. I will carry you the way there.â His eyes fell on your legs, âYou are too tiny to keep up, and I will not slow down for you.â
âNot if youâre just going to insult me, no.â
Neteyam sighed. He shouldâve expected this from you. It was never easy to get you to do anything if it was coming from him.Â
Done with playing nice, he stood up, and walked towards you. You glared at him, but gasped out when you felt him sling you over his shoulder.Â
âHey, what the hell?!â
He smirked, and walked out of the village.
âPut me down! Are you crazy?!â
âYou are a noisy woman, did you know that?â
âI can walk, ya know!â
âNo. You are too slow.â
âNeteyam!â
He chuckled, âGood. You know my name.â
You glowered at him, âYouâre not funny.â
He laughed, and ignored you the entire way until you stopped talking altogether.Â
When the two of you approached a large tree, you did your best to look up at it. The rain seemed to be coming down harder than earlier, which made you want to get inside of wherever Neteyam lived all the more. He stood there, thinking it through. Usually, it wouldâve taken him less than a minute to climb up to the treehouse but then again, he was never carrying a small human in his arms while doing it. He had to think carefully and rationally.
âWeâre not going up this treeâŠright?â You asked him, eyeing both the tree and him.
Neteyam licked his lips, and gripped your legs against him tighter. âJust stay still.â
Your eyes blew wide, âUh, yeah can you put me down? I think Iâm okay with sleeping on the ground, actually,â you laughed nervously, trying to wiggle out of his hold. âIt can be quite comfy down here, trust me. Justâ no wait!â
Neteyam started to climb up the tree, ignoring your shrieking. He found it annoying and distracting but he had to focus on not dropping you and going up at the same time. Thankfully you were still or you wouldâve fell.
It didnât take long for him to reach the edge of his home. He had to flip you around and push you onto the surface of the treehouse by your bottom, which made you flush but you ignored it and pulled yourself up. Gasping, you laid there as he swung himself up as well, ducking inside. Groaning, you stood up and headed inside as well.
He busied himself with taking off his armor while you took a look around. You had expected the place to be pitch black due to no light, but you were wrong. Heâd had all sorts of vines and flowers weaved throughout the home, illuminating every nook and cranny. What you saw was to be expected.
There wasnât much there other than piles of miscellaneous things in one corner and a bunch of folded up fur in another. There were some folded up mats as well, but the home was quite vacant. Aside from the mild decorations of beading and such, there wasnât much there. It wasnât all that shocking to you since Neteyam didnât give you the impression that he was someone that liked hoarding a bunch of things that didnât serve a purpose. It wouldâve been a bit more alarming if he did have a clutter of stuff around.Â
Once he was done with ridding himself of his protective wear, he watched you walk about his place in slight awe. He tried to fight it, but felt a sense of achievement with how enamored you were with his home. It seemed that everything was to your liking after all. He wasnât worried in the slightest because he didnât care, but he did wonder what you would think about his place. He worked hard to make it as comfortable as possible. For him, of course. Not you.
Made sure that the house itself was stable enough since it was sitting in a tree. It could also get a bit colder than living on the ground or closer to it so he brought in a bunch of fur to keep himself warm and to combat the cold temperatures that blew in through the night.
He had to admit. Heâd done a pretty good job.
âDo you have somewhere where I can get out of these clothes?â You asked him, cringing as you picked at your shirt, âThese are wet, and I donât want to sleep in wet clothes.â
He didnât understand what you were asking him. Sure, your word choices sounded a bit strange to him, but it was the context of your question that he just didnât get. Did you mean somewhere to change your clothing? That was a silly question. He almost laughed.
âYou are standing in it.â
The moment you understood what he meant, you sent a weird look, âHere? LikeâŠright here?â
He nodded, âYes.â
You felt warmth from your neck build up towards your face. Of course you were meant to undress right in the middle of the floor. The naâvi were not shy when it came to the body. They didnât see a need to hide themselves away. It made sense, but you werenât one of them. You werenât raised with that sort of mindset so you felt more conscious of your body. Stripping in front of him, again, was something you couldnât do. Youâd done it back in the hut earlier, but that was for good reason. Now, howeverâŠ
Neteyam sighed before he turned around, rolling his eyes, âChange, woman. I would like to sleep at some point.â
Irritated by his sudden change in attitude, you grumbled bitterly under your breath as you pulled your shirt back off and began fumbling with your pants. After stripping down to your bra and underwear, you laid your clothes out to dry in a corner and noticed the furs next to it. Glancing back at Neteyam, happy to find his back still facing you, you grabbed one and put it up against your body to shield yourself.Â
âOkay. Done.â
He turned around, and smirked at you, âHiding yourself?â He began walking towards you, âDonât misunderstand. I do not lust for you, tawtute,â he leaned down, close to your burning face, eyes darkening, âYour body does not attract me, trust me.â
You squeaked when his arm brushed past yours, reaching behind you. He grabbed the rest of the furs there, and walked away from you.Â
âYou should sleep,â he commented over his shoulder as he began making a place on the floor to sleep for the night, âLong day, tomorrow. Rest.â
As he worked on fixing up his bed, you bit into your lip, and decided to sleep near the corner â as far away from him as possible.Â
The air was thick with tension, it felt like it was crawling up and down your spine no matter how far you were from him. You laid down, choosing to stare up at the ceiling. There was shuffling to your left, and you caught Neteyam settling down on his fur, giving you the view of his back once more. With a quiet huff, you turned your attention back to the ceiling. The dayâs events replayed in your head, over and over. How you got here, wondering how long it would be before you were back at the outpost, in your own cozy bed.Â
It all happened in a blur. Losing Theo, getting lost, meeting Neteyam and Kanu, meeting his angry mother and legendary father and laying under the same roof as him. If you thought about it too much, youâd feel like the room was spinning. So much had happened within the span of a few hours. It almost felt like a dream.Â
All you wanted was to be back at the lab. Safe and sound, and away from the very man that slept a few feet away from you. Someone who didnât want you near him in the first place.
You frowned at his sleeping form, wondering why he had insisted that you slept with him anyway. Especially if he hated you so much. Why did he care where you slept? You werenât his responsibility. It didnât make any sense.
You wouldâve much rather spent the night with Kanu, but he had disappeared earlier on. You couldnât help but wonder why heâd left so early, but then again, it was none of your business. You didnât exactly know him that well (or really, at all).
It was late, and you grew tired of thinking. Neteyam was right about one thing. You needed to rest. Too much had happened in one day, and the medicine that Moâat had you drink before you left her hut was starting to kick in. You could feel the drowsiness lurking up on you, and decided to not fight it.
The moment youâd fallen asleep, Neteyam knew. For some reason, his body wouldnât allow him to sleep until you did. It kept him up to make sure you were able to sleep, which was strange to him. He didnât understand why it mattered. You seemed cozy in your little corner. Why did he feel worried about you?Â
Aggravated by this connection he seemed to be having with you, he drew his fur up and over his head to hopefully block you out entirely.
Except, it didnât seem to work. Sometimes he hated to have heightened hearing.
He could hear your teeth chattering, and your sniffling.Â
He sighed. It sounded like you had a runny nose.Â
Great.
He willed his body to ignore you, but it was hard. Very hard. Especially when you sneezed. He cursed under his breath. On top of your injuries, you did not need to go and get sick on him. That would only prolong your stay, and he was fighting hard to get you out of the village within, at least, a day or two. If you got sick, he was positive his father would allow you to stay for more than that. He couldnât handle it. Especially with his mother still angry about you being around in the first place.Â
Sucking up his pride, he pushed back the fur blankets and stood up with a grunt. He needed to fix this before it became a situation. His life was already stressful. He didnât need you to continue adding on to it.
Standing over you, he took in a breath. He knew what he had to do. Your form visibly shivered under the single fur blanket you had on top of you. Other than that, you were just laying on the wooden flooring. He winced. It couldnât have been comfortable, and of course you were shivering. The blanket wasnât doing much to keep you warm. If anything, it was sending mixed signals to your brain making you believe you were comfortable enough to sleep, but was freezing you out at the same time.Â
âOkay, little one,â He bent down and carefully scooped you into his arms. Thankfully, you were deeply asleep and didnât wake up. âLetâs get you warm.â
Your slight squirming didnât bother him as he set you down on his makeshift bed of fur, and noted that it was warm because heâd been laying in it. You almost cracked a smile watching the way you snuggled against the bedding, but you were still shaking. He frowned, and covered you with the rest of the fur. Hopefully, now that he had placed you somewhere with more covering, that would fix the issue.
He was wrong.
You whimpered, and tried to press yourself further into the bedding, subconsciously seeking more of the warmth that was slowly dulling out now that his body heat was gone.
Neteyam feared this was something heâd end up having to do.Â
Swallowing his pride, he lifted the blankets and slipped inside with you. His first mind had been right. Heâd have to sleep with you, right next to you, in order for you to get warm. You needed to leech off of his body heat and if that was going to solve the problem, then why not?
He just didnât foresee you scooting closer to him until you were pressed right up against his back. He felt your cold fingertips against his warm skin, and let out a breath. You were freezing, just like he had suspected. Your touch was too cold to be normal so he turned around, and wrapped his arms around your tiny figure, bringing you against his chest. Your teeth continued to chatter and your whimpering didnât stop until after Neteyam could feel himself slowly falling to sleep. Youâd gone silent, and when he looked down, he could tell that you were finally warm.Â
He lifted a finger to your nose, and felt that it was dry now. No runny nose. Your body was also warming up. He knew that he didnât need to continue holding you this way, but he couldnât let you go. It feltâŠnice having you so close to him.Â
Your scent traveled into his nose again, and he mentally groaned. Not this again. What bad timing, at that.Â
He softly trailed his nose from the shell of your ear, to your neck. He took in a slow inhale, and let it out, his warm breath coating your skin. You smelled as sweet and as intoxicating as earlier. If not more now.Â
His body wanted more.Â
You made a small noise from the back of your throat but otherwise, continued to sleep. He let one of his hands slide from the middle of your back down, close to the swell of your ass. He needed to gain control of himself, but there you were, nearly naked and pressed against his own half naked body. How could he resist? It was like youâd been served to him on a silver platter.
Who was he if he didnât indulge just a little bit?
âOeya tawtute,â he growled against your skin, fangs itching to dip into you. He felt an aggressive need to mark you, to make sure that once you left the house, everyone knew you were marked by him. Especially his annoying best friend, Kanu. How Neteyam desperately wanted to see the look on his face once he saw the mark. Heâd know to not come near you ever again. That you were his, and no one elseâs.
âNeteyam?â You called in a groggy voice, trying to blink the sleepiness away. Youâd felt something warm against your neck, but couldnât figure out what it was. You knew that heâd taken you to his bed to get you warm, but you didnât expect anything else to happen. Youâd been grateful for his kindness, but thisâŠ
Your eyes popped open. This was similar to earlier when heâd had you in the tree. When he held you against him, nosing your neck and acting all strange. You went rigid. Now that the two of you were alone and half naked in the same bed, there was no telling what was going to happen.Â
âHey,â you tried to push him back, but he was stronger. He nipped at your neck, pulling a choked gasp from your throat, âNeteyam, waitââ
âNo,â He told you before he pushed you on your back, climbing on top of you. The first thing you noticed was how dark his eyes had gotten. Theyâd been such a bright and warm amber earlier, but now⊠They looked different. Much different. âYou are mine. Not his.â
His voice was deeper as well. He didnât even look like the same person from before. His fangs appeared longer, and his grip on your waist wouldâve hurt if you werenât so turned on by the entire shift of his personality. What was going on?
And who the hell was he even talking about?Â
âI think youâre dreaming? I donât know what youâre talking about, butââ
He hissed before he got off of you. He scooted away from you, panting, trying to get himself under control. You laid there, blinking up at the ceiling in confusion. What just happened?Â
His back was facing you when you sat up on an elbow, looking at him. Even though you didnât quite understand what he had going on, you still didnât think it was a good idea to get upset about it. Especially when it seemed like it was something fragile and personal going on. You could always ask him about it later, but right now, it was best to try and sleep it off.Â
You chose to not say anything, and turned on your side, away from him. It didnât look like he wanted to talk anyway, and you werenât going to force him to.Â
Neteyam felt like his head was spinning on his shoulders. He couldnât figure out what happened to him just now, but he feared that things with you would only get worse the longer he went without talking to his grandmother about what was going on. Only she would know what to do to help him with his littleâŠproblem.
He huffed to himself, and forcibly closed his eyes. If he forgot that you were only an inch away from him, he could probably get proper sleep tonight. It sounded easier said than done, though. Just moments ago, heâd been on top of you. You were looking at him with such fear that it woke up his arousal. He couldâve done anything to you, and you wouldnât have been able to do a thing to stop him. Probably wouldâve quelled the hunger he could deep within him, but not only was his gentlemen but he was also rational. A realist. It wouldâve been wrong, and he was not someone that laid with someone that didnât want to be with him. The connection needed to be mutual. Still, thisâŠthing between you and him â it was different. It was hard to silence.Â
However, he could keep fighting it back. He had to.
Feeling your feet slide up his leg by accident made his tail hit the floor rather hard. His body went rigid.Â
He knew, in that moment, it was going to prove to be more of a challenge than he thought.
taglist: [if you are not listed, i reached my limit, sorryy đ]
@powowowy @daydreamerbunny @itzmariaa777 @suntizme @neteyamforlife @blushhpeachh @makeup-stuff-and-such @ilovejakesullysdick @fantasico @iwanttohitmyself @mashiromochi @mae-is-crazy @lovekeeho @tpwkstiles @jellybeanstacey0519 @squidalapobre @crazy4books1 @hmt09 @danyxthirstae01 @desatando-me @zoetrope1997 @bajadotcom @maweysworld @ancientbeing10 @filmneteyam @kage-yaa @llearlert @jakesully-sbabygirl @dia-nne @reggiesslut @cerya @coldheartedmar @jdbxws @anxietydrogz @stillinracooncity @kyunasully @liluvtojineteyam @shadytalething @willowpains @itssomeonereading @luvvfromme @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @lordeleviathan @cleverzonkwombatsludge @love13tter @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @dreamtogether2000 @jjkclub @lyramundana
end notes: i just want to say thank you for all the support, i am still processing the amount of ppl that want to see this series continue bc i doubted myself a pretty long time before posting this :â) smooches to every single one of you, itâs made me so so happy istg, expect another update next week, xoxo
© all content belongs to thewayofhim 2023. do not modify, translate or repost without permission.
Tsu'tey and my OC Ayluna đ
He always looks after her, coz the TsahĂk told him to do so! After long time spending together, taking care of her and teaching her, how to life on pandora, he starts to fall for her.
I think, he only realises this, after the fear of losing her kicks in. When he starts to be over protective. Being afraid something happenes to her.
In this artwork I thought about, that he realised her beauty for the first time and his heart jumped a big. His body moved at his own, he goes into the water and pulled Ayluna in his arms. Keep her close, after the fear of maybe losing her one time too kicks in. Disclaimer : Ayluna is an Avatar but she is consciousness like Jake, she doesn't has a controller. She is 50% Human and 50% na'vi DNA she is NOT an albino
REALLLLL
I just want to read some fluffy (non-smutty) Steve Rogers x Reader fic where he doesnât abandon her and is not a dark alpha mob boss!!!! I hate the dark! Steve trope with a deadly passion, but the tag is filled with it! Makes me wanna gag.
def my fav neteyam fic
ONE OF US| neteyam x avatar!reader
summary: neteyam sully was the next olo'eyktan and for years had been focused on his training and his responsibilities only. he had never accounted for you to become one of them. when you got your avatar body and ended up in the forest alone, being brought to the village and offered to be taught the ways of the people wasn't what you expected. let alone it being neteyam, future olo'eyktan becoming your teacher.
pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader (aged up)
word count: 97,582 (completed: 02/01/23)
warnings/notes: enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, angst, swearing, mention of child abandonment, mention of sky people, mention of death, lo'ak x avatar!reader (if you squint), asshole!neteyam/protective!neteyam, smut in later chapters
masterlist | requests are currently open for now
please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+, and although I can't monitor who reads my work, if you are not 18+ I advise that you do not engage in my page or stories.
I. sngaâitseng â just the beginning
II. the ways of the na'vi
III. the outsider
IV. iknimaya
V. naâviyĂ€ hapxĂŹ â one of the people
VI. as the world caves in
VII. one of us
VIII. the deepest sighs, the frankest shadows
one of us spotify playlist - any songs you might think fit for the series? lmk so I can add them.
poem inspos: let him be soft the sun and the moon
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Doctor!Reader
Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.
CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's goofy af you've been warned
WC: 1800+
A/N: I don't know, you guys, I just couldn't get this scene out of my head hahah
Your back is turned when the two men enter the office, so you donât notice right away that one of them is practically shoving the other inside. You hear the grumbling though.
âIâm fine,â and âLet go,â and âThis is a waste of time.â
You glance over your shoulder as one of the nurses places a clipboard outside an exam room and gestures for the men to wait inside. Itâs a slow day at the clinic so, after finishing up the notes from your previous appointment, you head over to check the chart before walking in to greet your next patient.
The two men look up when you enter. The younger one is sitting in a chair and the older one has a firm hand on his shoulder as if heâs forcefully trying to keep him there.
âGood afternoon, Iâm Doctor Y/L/N,â you say, placing the clipboard on the table as the two men say hello. âWhat seems to be the problem?â
âHe hit his head,â the man whoâs standing says.
âIâm fine,â the other assures you.
âHard,â the first man points out.
The seated man rolls his eyes. âHeâs overreacting.â
You narrow your eyes slightly and approach them. âWhatâs your name?â you ask the man with the apparent head injury, crouching down so that you can look at his face up close.
âDonât you have my chart?â he asks. He's wearing a cheeky grin and you can tell that he's flirting.
âItâs Bradshaw,â the standing man says. âHis name. And Iâm Captain Mitchell.â
You glance up at the older man. âIf you could refrain from answering for the patient, please, Captain,â you say, slightly annoyed.
âRight,â he nods. âI apologize.â
The seated man raises his eyebrows. âWell, thatâs a first.â
You move to grab a chair and position yourself in front of him. âFull name and rank?â
âLieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. Whatâs yours?â the man asks with a bit of a smirk.
You tap on the name tag hanging off your lab coat coolly. Youâre not unaccustomed to receiving this kind of attention, however it doesnât happen too often at work. âWhatâs the date today, Lieutenant Bradshaw?â you ask casually, reaching for your clipboard.
âYou donât have a calendar, Doctor?â Bradley asks.
You glance up at him pointedly. âAre you always this cooperative?â
âThis is the kind of shit I have to put up with on a daily basis, Doctor,â Captain Mitchell mutters.
âWell, thatâs good news,â you say, smiling up at the man. When he furrows his eyebrows, you clarify, âNo noticeable change in personality.â
Captain Mitchell grins wryly. âWhat a relief.â
Bradley snorts and starts to get up. âWeâre done, then?â he asks.
âNot quite,â you say, indicating for him to sit back down.
Bradley sighs wearily but resumes his seated position across from you. He places his hands in his lap and lifts his eyes to meet your gaze with a skeptical expression.
âAre you experiencing any dizziness?â you ask.
âNo,â he responds, keeping his eyes locked on yours.
You glance down at the clipboard in your hand, slightly unnerved that heâs so boldly watching you. âHeadache or nausea?â you ask without looking back up.
âNope,â he responds.
âCan you count backwards from 100 by seven?â
âAre you serious?â he asks.
You glance up at him sharply. âWould you like to conduct the examination, Lieutenant?â
He sighs and starts counting.
You stop him after several correct numbers and ask, âWhat is your profession?â
Thereâs a brief pause during which Bradley lets his head dip to the side to study the contours of your face. You glance up at him expectantly and he looks into your eyes again. âIâm an aviator,â he says nonchalantly, although you notice his chest puff up with pride. As if you donât regularly meet pilots working at the health clinic on base.
You look down at your clipboard as though youâre reading the questions off the page but, really, youâre just avoiding his gaze because his eyes have a weâre-gonna-fuck look about them and youâre almost starting to fall for it. âAny previous head injuries?â
âNot that Iâm aware of,â he responds, and you notice the sexy rasp in his voice despite trying very hard to ignore it.
âHe crashed his bike into a tree when he was five,â Captain Mitchell chimes in.
Both you and Bradley look up at him with some amusement, having nearly forgotten he was there. You blink at the captain pointedly before returning your attention to the chart in your lap. âI hope heâs better at maneuvering these days,â you comment.
Bradley starts laughing which makes you look up at him in surprise. Captain Mitchell is also chuckling mildly. âHe has his moments,â he says.
 You give them a tight smile and rise from your seat, setting your clipboard down. Bradley stands too, towering over you because heâs still so close. You take a step back, nearly stumbling over your chair, and both Bradley and the captain grab your arms to keep you from falling.
âYou alright?â Bradley asks.
You nod, straightening out your lab coat and pointing to his chair. âSit, please,â you say, not meeting his gaze.
âYou got it, Doc,â he says, sitting back down. Captain Mitchell smirks in amusement.
âTell me what happened,â you say, approaching your patient confidently to perform a physical exam.
Both he and the captain start recounting two vastly different versions of the same event while you check Bradleyâs vital signs. Once theyâve finished speaking and youâve located the swelling on Bradleyâs head, you glance between the two of them skeptically. Then you pull a penlight out of your lab coat and say, âFollow the light.â
You watch Bradleyâs pupils constrict in response to the light but, when you move the penlight to one side, his eyes remain fixed on yours.
âThe light, Lieutenant,â you remind him.
Bradley shifts his gaze to the right as instructed, but every time the movement of your penlight crosses the midpoint, he lets his eyes linger on yours for a split second. You flick off the light and observe as Bradleyâs pupils return to normal size. His mouth quirks upward slightly but he never breaks eye contact.
âGood,â you say, dropping the penlight back into your pocket. âNow you can stand.â
Bradley gets out of his seat while Captain Mitchell watches on cautiously, as though he expects him to fall over. When the captain steps closer, Bradley holds out his hand.
âIâm fine, dad.â Bradleyâs sarcastic tone indicates that the captain is, in fact, not his father, but his companionâs affectionate expression in response probably puts him in the category of loveable uncle who has frequently â albeit unsolicitedly â stepped into the role. Bradley straightens his back and looks over at you calmly, awaiting your instructions.
âStand on one foot for me,â you say.
Bradley smirks. âAnything for you, Doc,â he says, bending his left leg upwards.
Captain Mitchell lets out a tired sigh, shaking his head, while you attempt to not roll your eyes. âYou can put your foot down, Lieutenant,â you say crossly.
âYou want me to put my foot down, Doc?â he responds suggestively.
âRooster!â the captain warns.
âIâm kidding!â Bradley chuckles. âShe knows.â He extends an arm out to point at you. âYou know, right?â he verifies, glancing over at you.
âI apologise.â Captain Mitchell shakes his head again.
âThatâs the second time,â Bradley notes.
You raise your eyebrows at the two of them. âWell,â you say. âThatâs another good sign.â
âWhat?â they both ask.
âHis sense of humor is intact,â you say.
Bradley grins at you. âYou think Iâm funny?â
The captain closes his eyes.
You fight to keep a straight face. âAs long as you think youâre funny, Lieutenant.â
âDo you recommend treatment, Doctor?â Captain Mitchell asks.
You look at him with a small grin. âFor the humor?â
Bradley snorts but the captain considers your question. âMight come in handy,â he says.
Bradley lets out a sarcastic, âHa-ha.â
âNo,â you say. âHeâs fine.â
âTold you,â Bradley mutters to the captain.
âBut,â you say, âif you start experiencing any of these symptomsâ â you hand him a brochure on concussions â âcome back in and we can do a more comprehensive assessment.â
Bradley takes the brochure from your hand. âIâll do that,â he says with a nod.
âŠ
As youâre heading back to your office, you notice Bradley eyeing you from the front desk. He mutters something to Captain Mitchell, in response to which the latter glances in your direction before looking back at Bradley pointedly. Then, he gives him a couple of claps on the shoulder and heads out the door.
Having arrived at the door to your office, you donât linger to find out what Bradley is up to. But, just as youâre about to sit down at your desk, Bradleyâs head peeks in through the partially open door. He drums on the doorframe with his knuckle despite already having gotten your attention.
âWas there something else, Lieutenant?â you ask, walking back around your desk toward him.
Bradley grins sheepishly. âMay I come in?â he asks.
Truthfully, youâre surprised heâs not already inside. You gesture for him to enter.
âI uh,â he starts, hesitating when you meet his gaze. âIâm sorry,â he says, grimacing. âFor being an idiot.â
You raise your eyebrows but give him a warm smile. âWe can blame the head injury.â
Bradley nods slowly. âLetâs,â he says. âAlthough, Iâm afraid itâs permanent.â
You chuckle. âWell, at least youâre self-aware.â
He cringes slightly but it quickly turns into a grin. He takes a deep breath, holding your gaze. âI like you,â he says bluntly.
Youâre slightly taken aback by his directness, so you simply stare at him for a moment.
 âI hope thatâs okay,â he adds when you donât say anything.
âUh, sure,â you respond awkwardly, panicking slightly because heâs so tall and broad-shouldered and charming.
âI sort of want to take you out,â he says, taking a step forward.
You sort of wonder how often he pulls this kind of thing. Youâre nothing if not a veteran skeptic. âI donât think thatâs a very good idea.â
Bradley watches you with a knowing smirk. âBut do you want to?â he asks.
You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. âDoesnât matter.â
Bradley sticks his hands into his pockets, his eyes sweeping you up and down. âIt matters to me,â he says.
âIâm sorry, Lieutenant. I canât go out with a patientâ â
âIâm not your patient anymore,â he says, the low rasp of his voice even more persuasive than his words.
âYouâre a patient of this clinic,â you say.
âI can find another clinic,â he responds.
You lower your gaze, pursing your lips to keep from smiling too widely. âI work long hours, Lieutenant. I donât exactly have much time to socialize.â
When you glance back up at him, Bradley flashes you a dazzling grin that demonstrates how fantastically unconvinced he is that your busy schedule is truly a reason for concern. âI haven't heard a no, Doctor,â he points out.
âYou haven't heard a yes.â
Bradley chuckles. âThatâs fine,â he says, taking several steps back toward the door. âIâm not in a hurry.â And with these words, he walks out of your office.
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EXACTLY!!!! i absolutely love how you said this
nah since marvel is trending again Iâm going to say it again louder for the people in back â canon steve rogers would never have chosen an âidyllic 1950s white pickett fence lifeâ because the only place that man belonged was a picket LINE. the whole point of his character was that his work was never done. there was always going to be another oppressor, another bully, another person who takes advantage of the underprivileged for him to stand up to. from the moment he gained consciousness he, a chronically ill son of a working class mother living below the poverty line, used his voice and his body to protect & fight for what he believed in. Iâm not sure there was ever a time pre-super soldier serum where he didnât have a black eye. he could put the shield down all he wanted but he could never retire from being steve rogers â someone who never once turned a blind eye, who never once wanted a ârewardâ for his work, who never once abandoned his friends. this isnât up for debate. this is almost a century of comic book & film/animated precedent. he may have been a man out of time, but in his words âitâs tempting to want to live in the past. itâs familiar, itâs comfortable. but itâs where fossils come fromâ
best bucky fic ive read period
summary: youâre asking yourself why he keeps coming back, heâs asking himself why you keep letting him in. itâs a treacherous slope but neither of you can turn back now.
pairing: outlaw!bucky barnes x female reader
warnings: SMUT (18+, minors DNI), swearing, fluff, angst, mention of: alcohol, blood, injuries, guns, death, murder, violence, and non-con (itâs alluded to in regards to an unnamed character).
length: 16.8k
a/n: written for my 3k celebration, the prompt is bolded. i know nothing of the old west but this is fiction so. title inspired by this song and one part of this fic is inspired by a scene in butch cassidy & the sundance kid (if u know which part ur cool). second time writing smut âđŹ.
You never could quite handle the sight of blood, nor could you ever hide your instinctual response to it. Your father used to terrorise you with the cuts heâd sometimes earn from a hard dayâs work, always finding your reactions humorous.
Each time he would smile and say, âYouâll get used to it one day, kid.â
That day didnât come while he was alive and it hadnât come now.
Opening your front door to the man youâd spied knocking on it from the kitchen window, you almost shut it again.
The stranger towers above you, his frame taking up the entire doorway, but your focus is drawn down to where his hands - covered in dirt and blood, press above his left hip.
âMaâam,â He greets in a gruff tone. âI hate to bother you, but I find myself in need of some assistanceâŠâ The man nods to his injury, as if it had gone unnoticed by you.
It takes a moment for you to respond and when you do itâs with a jerky bob of your head as you step out of the doorway.
One blood stained hand raises to tip his hat at you as he enters.
Your eyes follow him as he wanders into the kitchen to his left, a slight sway in his steps.
How long has he been bleeding out?
Shutting the front door, you finally find your voice. âWhat do you need?â
Grunting as he lowers himself into a chair at your small, rectangular table, he answers âRag, needle, thread, and alcohol - whiskey preferably.â
Removing his hat, he places it on the tabletop.
Okay, heâs done this before.
Focusing on the task heâs provided, you move around the kitchen and sitting room across from it, gathering each item.
The stranger is in luck. Your father had loved whiskey and thereâs still plenty of bottles stashed away in the cupboard.
When you come to stand in front of him with everything in hand, you find that heâs lifted his shirt, providing an unobstructed view of his injury.
Thereâs so muchâŠ
âBullet just grazed me.â The man observes quietly to himself. âStill made one hell of a mess though.â He grumbles, finally lifting his head.
Blood. Thereâs so much blood and the skin has -
A deep, rough laugh pulls you from your spiralling, making you swallow thickly.
âItâs alright darlinâ.â Thereâs a lighter edge to his tone. âJust put the stuff on the table, Iâve got it.â
You do as he directs but remain where you are.
The man opens the bottle of whiskey first and takes three healthy swigs before pouring the liquid over his wound, hissing.
Quickly averting your gaze with a wince, you focus on his face instead.
What skin you can see is dirty, like his clothes. Itâs clearly been some time since he last bathed or even tidied his appearance. His hair is long and tangled. You think itâs naturally a dark brown but itâs hard to be certain. A thick, wild beard hides most of his mouth and half his face, while a sharp nose -
Oh god.
Youâve seen the wanted posters hanging around town. Heard the stories that accompanied them.
Bucky Barnes.
The famed outlaw, responsible for some of the decadeâs most daring robberies and revered as the fastest gunslinger in the west, is sitting in your kitchen. Tending a gunshot wound.
For the briefest moment you wonder who it was that shot him and what their fate had been.
Then you realise thatâs something you really donât want to know.
âMa always said I could never be a tailor.â The man - Bucky mutters, eyeing his truthfully pitiful stitching. âBut itâll do.â
Placing the blood soaked rag on the table, along with the needle and leftover thread, Buckyâs eyes meet yours as he swallows another mouthful of whiskey.
You feel the shift in the air as he sets the bottle back down.
Somehow he knows.
âIâm not lookinâ for any trouble maâam.â
âSays the man famous for trouble.â You canât help but retort.
Did I seriously just smart mouth him?
To your shock Bucky merely grins, his teeth surprisingly white and clean. âThatâs fair, but a pretty girlâs house isnât exactly where I make my trouble.â Morphing his grin into a smirk, he amends âUnless Iâm asked.â
Your skin heats at the insinuation.
âI wonât be asking.â You state firmly.
âThen youâve got nothinâ to fear.â Bucky assures, his mouth returning to its serious line underneath his beard.
He regards you carefully and itâs only then that you notice his eyes are the most electrifying blue.
âI best be on my way.â
The sudden declaration should fill you with relief, but as you watch Bucky rise from the chair with an unsteady step, you hear yourself saying âYou can stay.â
Something tells you the last time he bathed was also the last time he had a decent meal or rest. He wouldnât be finding any of those things nearby, especially in his condition.
Itâs a miracle he even found you.
The downward tilt of Buckyâs eyebrows is the only indication of his confusion as he looks up from the hat in his hands. âAre you -â
âJust for the night and no funny business.â
Buckyâs eyes study you again and you swear no one has ever looked at you with such intensity.
Then he blinks, focusing on the front door over your shoulder. âI left my guns with my horse. You can keep âem with you if itâll make you feel better.â Meeting your gaze once more, his deep voice rumbles âBut I promise you wonât need âem.â
How much was an outlawâs promise worth?
Eyeing him in the same observing manner, you begin to understand what Bucky had been searching for.
Slowly shaking your head, you tell him âItâs alright.â
You had your fatherâs shotgun should it come to that and you were familiar with the weapon.
âIâll show you the bathroom.â You declare, striding out of the kitchen. âIf youâre gonna stay, youâre gonna be clean.â
Behind you, Bucky responds with a - dare you say, amused âYes maâam.â
â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·
Your eyes fall shut as you lean back against the front door, sucking in a deep breath of the crisp afternoon air.
Thereâs an outlaw in my bathroom.
Re-opening your eyes at that insane truth, you realise youâre not alone.
Buckyâs horse watches you curiously from where she stands in front of the porch steps, her gorgeous white coat shining under the setting sun.
Descending the steps cautiously, you extend a hand to the mare, letting her sniff you. When she makes a soft whinny and nudges at your hand, you move it to stroke her neck.
Her calm temperament surprises you, as she gladly allows you to lead her over to the barn not far from the house.
You settle her in a stall opposite your own horse, Chester. A gelding you aptly named after his chestnut complexion.
When you relieve her of Buckyâs saddle, you spot two guns amongst his belongings, just like he said you would. You leave them there in the barn.
Back in the kitchen, you clear everything except the quarter filled whiskey bottle from the table.
He might as well finish it off.
Wiping down the wooden tabletop to erase any trace of blood, you lift the bottle to clean under it and get a large whiff of the alcohol, making you pause.
Itâs been years since you smelt the once common scent and it has memories flickering behind your eyes as you realise youâve missed it.
Shaking your head, you put the bottle back down.
An hour passes, Bucky yet to emerge from the bathroom.
You stir dinner distractedly, staring out the window in front of you that overlooks the barn and the great nothingness beyond it as the sky slowly darkens.
âSmells good.â
Christ.
Heart thumping sturdily at the small fright, you let the wooden spoon rest against the side of the pot and turn to face Bucky.
Oh.
Itâs no wonder he took so long. Bucky had found good use in a pair of scissors and your fatherâs razor.
His wild, untamed beard has been reduced to stubble, highlighting a handsome jawline. Buckyâs hair - which is a dark brown and currently damp, curls under his ears instead of brushing against his shoulders.
Definitely trouble.
However, dressed in your fatherâs old clothes, itâs hard to find him as intimidating.Â
Your father had been a stout man, so you knew the clothes wouldnât be a perfect fit.
The pants are a bit baggy and come up short, ending above the ankles of his bare feet, while the shirt tucked into them is an even looser fit. Bucky has rolled up the long sleeves to keep them out of his way, revealing just how thick and muscular his arms are.
âI can wash your clothes if you like.â You offer, realising youâve been staring.
âNo need darlinâ,â Bucky responds smoothly âWashed them with me and hung âem over the porch.â
You hadnât even heard the front door open or close.
âKid, that wanderinâ mind aâyours is gonna get you in trouble one day.â
Nodding, you gesture to the table. âWell take a seat, dinnerâs ready.â
Dishing out two bowls of stew, you place one in front of him, along with a basket of bread rolls.
âCanât remember the last time I had a home cooked meal.â Bucky divulges, taking the spoon you offer him.
Sitting in the chair opposite him, you say âThereâs plenty more if you want it.â
The two of you eat in silence, Bucky at a much faster pace. Youâre only finishing your first serving when he begins his third.
Guess it has been a while since he last ate.
Or maybe this is just his usual appetite.Â
âIs it just you here?â Bucky asks after polishing off another bread roll, ending the quiet stretch.
In any other circumstance youâd think twice before giving an honest answer, but itâs pointless to lie to him now.
âYes, it used to be my father and I, but he died two years ago.â
The pain his loss caused wasnât something you could describe.
Your mother passed away when you were only four, taken by illness. If it werenât for the two photographs your father had of her, you wouldnât even know what she looked like.
After she died it was just you and him.
When his health began failing him some years ago, you both knew it was only a matter of time. You had just hoped for more.
Adjusting to life without your father had been challenging, but you were fortunate. Youâd been left with a home - having no one else to come claim it, and the money that came from loaning out the land to cattle ranchers. It kept you fed, warm, and content.
Bucky lifts his eyes to look at you. âIâm sorry to hear that.â
You nod, your throat tight with emotion.
Pushing up from the table, you take your empty bowl to the sink as Bucky continues eating.
The subject of your fatherâs passing stopped affecting you heavily some time ago, but it seems the turmoil of todayâs events has brought your pain back to the surface.
âIâll get your bed ready.â You announce, leaving the kitchen.
Heâll stay in the spare room - your fatherâs old room. Itâs bigger than yours, but you could never find the will to claim it as your own. You were happy in your childhood room.
Grabbing sheets from the bedroomâs wardrobe, you start making the bed.
The room is sparse, containing only the bed with a small table either side of it, the wardrobe, and a chair. On one bedside table sits the two photographs of your mother.
Youâre slipping a cover over the pillow when Buckyâs figure appears in the doorway.
âHave enough to eat?â
You doubt thereâs any leftovers.
âMore than, your cookinâs somethinâ else.â He declares.
A smile escapes before you can stop it.
Youâve always loved cooking and itâs been years since youâve had someone to feed or receive compliments from.
Dropping the pillow, you look over at Bucky and find his gaze fixated on the bed.
âIâll leave you be.â You state, moving towards the door.
Still staring at the bed, Bucky steps further into the room and out of your way.
Glancing at him one last time, you utter out a soft âGoodnight Bucky.â
Youâre startled by how quickly his dark blue eyes jump to you. Then you realise itâs the first time youâve spoken his name.
âWhatâs your name, darlinâ?â
A pause.
Softly, you tell him your name.
Buckyâs deep voice repeats it, adding âThank you, for everything.â
His tone is lighter again, like it had been earlier after he laughed, allowing you to hear the emotion in it - sincerity, in this instance.
Youâre not sure why it pleases you so much.
â·â·â·â·â· THE NEXT DAY â·â·â·â·â·
When you wake youâre not as well rested as youâd like, eyelids heavy and unwilling to open.
You spent most of the night tossing and turning, all too aware of the outlaw just two doors down.
Forcing your eyes open, you sluggishly get out of bed, taking your time getting dressed and fixing your hair.
Emerging from your bedroom, you peer down the hall to your right. The bathroom resides next to your room, the spare room next to it. Both rooms have their doors wide open, unoccupied.
Taking a few steps down the hall until you reach the opening on your left that leads into the sitting room, you walk in and find Bucky to your right, in the kitchen... making breakfast?
âMorninâ,â Bucky greets as you approach. Cracking two eggs into a pan, he answers your unspoken question. âFigured I at least owed ya breakfast.â
You werenât going to argue that.
Taking a seat at the table, you ask âHow did you sleep?â
Peering at you over his shoulder, Bucky replies âLike a rock.â
âAnd your wound?â
âHealinâ just fine.â
Buckyâs still wearing the clothes you gave him, but judging by the heat you can already feel in the air, you know his will be dry before you even finish breakfast.
â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·
You walk back to the house with Bucky on your right and his horse - Alpine, as heâd introduced, on his other side.
He doesnât mount the mare until youâve reached the steps that lead up to your front porch. When he does youâre stunned by the ease and swiftness his large body executes the movement with.
âThanks again darlinâ.â Bucky nods, touching the brim of his weathered black hat. âFor your cookinâ especially.â
Back in his own clothes with a gun belt around his hips, Bucky looks every bit like the outlaw he is.
For the second time since youâve met, your mouth takes on a mind of its own. âWell, if you ever find yourself this way again maybe Iâll cook you something else.â
The edges of his lips turn up in a smirk at your offer. âIâll keep that in mind.â
With a light press of his leg into Alpineâs side, the white beauty starts moving forward. You watch as she builds her momentum until sheâs galloping, her and her rider becoming nothing more than a dot on the horizon.
â·â·â·â· 7 WEEKS LATER â·â·â·â·
Truthfully, you never expected to see Bucky Barnes again.
The memory of his visit had been stored away at the back of your mind and some days you wondered if it ever even happened - if it had simply been a daydream youâd gotten too lost in.
However, the knocking you hear on your front door one afternoon weeks later is very much real. As real as the man you see standing on your porch through the window above your kitchen sink.
Once youâve opened the door, Bucky smiles in a way you can only describe as mischievous.
âHi darlinâ.â
Youâre relieved to find not one speck of blood on him, just dirt.
Buckyâs maintained his shorter hairstyle but his beard has thickened, though not to the wild state itâd been in when you first met.Â
You realise your memory had failed to capture the precise blue of his eyes, as well as the depth of his voice.
Quirking an eyebrow - but giving a small smile nonetheless, your only response is âBathroom.â
Chuckling, Bucky tips his hat at you, stepping out of his muddy boots before entering the house. You assume the bag in his hand contains clothes since he doesnât ask for any as he disappears into the hallway.
Walking out onto the porch, you meet Alpine at the bottom of the steps and stroke her neck in greeting, leading her over to the barn.
Buckyâs left his guns on his saddle once again and you place all his belongings on one of the workbenches before settling Alpine in the same stall sheâd occupied last time.
After stopping by Chesterâs stall to dote on the horse, you head back to the house and start making dinner.
Itâs not too long after when you hear heavy footsteps cross through the sitting room, followed by the front door opening.
Glancing to your left, to the window above the sink that looks out onto the porch, you watch as Bucky hangs his wet clothes over the railing.
He disappears from view and you hear the front door shut before his voice fills the room âHow ya been darlinâ?â
Shrugging your shoulders, you answer with a simple âGood.â
Youâre caught off guard when Bucky appears on your right, the smell of the soap he just used invading your senses.
Standing side by side, itâs impossible to ignore his imposing height.
The top of your head barely reaches his broad shoulders and you feel like you have to look up and up to see his face.
You lower your gaze as your heartbeat accelerates, unnerved by Buckyâs sudden closeness. However, it slows as you spy him inhaling the contents of the pot simmering on the stove in front of you.
ââM starvinâ.â He quietly groans.
Smiling, you roll your eyes and tell him âItâll be done soon.â Pointing to a cupboard at the end of the kitchen you add âThereâs whiskey in there if you want some.â
When Bucky doesnât move or say anything in response you look up at him again, startled to find him staring at you intently.
âYou a saint or somethinâ darlinâ?â
He speaks gruffly, but you hear a trace of humour in his tone.
Scoffing, your gaze drops again as you take a step towards him, so you can stand in front of the counter. Bucky takes a step backwards to accommodate you.
âWhatâs saintlike about offering someone whiskey? And to an outlaw no less.â
As the last part slips from your mouth, you tense.
âYouâre always talkinâ first and thinkinâ later, kid.â
Bucky merely hums in response, turning around to lean against the counter as his arms fold. The action pulls his shirt tight across his chest.
Not that youâre paying attention to that sort of thing.
âIsnât that what saints do? Help lost souls?â He drawls.
âYouâre lost?â You retort sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at him.
That earns a chuckle from him as he shakes his head. âNah, Iâm always right where I wanna be.â
Buckyâs midnight blue gaze hasnât left you once, while yours constantly shifts away, like it does now. âAnd thatâs here instead of somewhere nice?â
âNice costs money.â
Your eyes dart up to his for no less than a second before flitting away.
This time youâre smart enough to not say the first thing that comes to mind.
Concentrating instead on the corn in your hands, you jump when you feel the rough pad of Buckyâs index finger under your chin, nudging your head up until you meet his gaze.
âDonât start holdinâ your tongue now darlinâ.â Bucky states in a low tone, dropping his hand.
Your heart is racing again, but youâre not sure if itâs from fear or... something else.
Swallowing thickly, you manage to voice âI thought youâd have plenty of money.â
âSometimes I do.â
âSometimes?â
Really canât help myself, can I?
The left side of Buckyâs mouth twitches. âItâs not always about the money,â He answers vaguely.
You frown, âThen whatâs it about?â
At last, Bucky smirks. âCurious thing, ainât ya?â
The comment flusters you.
âWhy do you wanna know?â Bucky deflects, leaning in until his face is only inches from yours. âThinkinâ about joininâ the life darlinâ?â
âNo thank you.â The bite of your words is lost in your breathless tone, the result of his close proximity.
Bucky just huffs out a laugh, his breath tickling your face. Then heâs gone, strolling across the kitchen for the whiskey you offered hours ago - or so it feels, and thatâs the end of that.
â·â·â·â· THE NEXT DAY â·â·â·â·
Waking with a deep inhale, your eyes blink repeatedly against the bright sunlight your curtains do little to block.
You stretch with a satisfied hum, having found sleep much easier than the last time Bucky stayed the night.
Itâs well into the morning so you dress quickly, curious to see if Buckyâs still here, maybe even making breakfast again, or if heâs already taken off.
When you venture down the hall into the sitting room, you find the answer to your question lounging in an armchair, one of your favourite books in his big hands.
âNot an early riser, are you darlinâ?â Bucky drawls conversationally, not looking up from the page heâs reading.
You frown, crossing your arms. âItâs morning, isnât it?â
Heâs right though, youâre not one to rise with the sun - never have been. The few times you have are few and far between, the most recent being on his last visit.
Regardless, itâs not that observation that has you feeling defensive.
âTen oâclock is hardly morninâ, youâve missed half the day.â Thereâs nothing in his tone to suggest it, but you know heâs teasing.
It goes straight over your head however, as youâre too focused on whatâs in his hands.
âEnjoying the book?â You snark at him.
Bucky smirks.
Oh yeah, heâs definitely winding me up on purpose.
âTell me, are all your books so -â Bucky breaks off in a chuckle as you pluck the worn book out of his hands and press it to your chest. âSo... romantic?â
You grasp the book a little tighter, having half a mind to hit him over the head with it for the gleam in his eyes.
An urge you think he senses.
âI like their humour.â Is your only answer.
Bucky hums lazily, clearly finding your answer lacking as he raises out of the chair.
The visual reminder of his towering height briefly shortens your breath.
Gazing down at you, Bucky lightly brushes against your side as he heads towards the kitchen. âIâll go warm up breakfast.â
â·â·â·â· 5 WEEKS LATER â·â·â·â·
Youâre not sure what shocks you more when you open the front door. The fact that Bucky is clean, or the fact that heâs holding flowers.
Flowers.
Itâs definitely the flowers.
You recognise the handiwork too. Clara, an elderly woman who was as kind as they come, grew all sorts of flowers and sold them from a stall in town.
Theyâre a little wilted from the long ride here, but still vibrant and pretty.
Resting a shoulder against the doorframe, inadvertently bringing him closer, Buckyâs deep voice teases âWhatâs the matter darlinâ? No man ever bring you flowers before?â
Dragging your gaze up from the bouquet and narrowing it, you jab âIâm just wondering if theyâre stolen.â
Bucky only chuckles at your bite, like you expect him to.
Youâre not sure what to make of that realisation - that you expect things from him.
Holding the flowers out to you, he states âTheyâre paid for darlinâ, I promise.â
There he goes again, making another promise.
Kept his last one, didnât he?
Your facade doesnât last long either way, the corners of your mouth turning upwards as you accept the flowers, your fingers brushing over Buckyâs hand in the process.
Raising the flowers to your nose - and ignoring the tingle in your fingertips, you breathe in their scent, the stems of lavender standing out the most.
Before you can thank him, Buckyâs bending forward and ducking his head until his dark blue eyes are level with yours. âWas the money technically mine...â
Your mouth drops open as he trails off, his implication hanging clear in the air.
Bucky gives a genuine laugh at your reaction, the warm sound almost eliciting one from you as he pushes away from the door.
You watch him saunter down the porch steps to take Alpine to the barn, completely and utterly bewildered by this outlaw.
He looked dangerous with his imposing height, broad shoulders, and wide chest that peeked through the unbuttoned top of his long sleeve shirts. The same shirts that his muscled arms bulged beneath.
Not to mention his roguish features - the dark hair, thick beard, and piercing blue eyes.
He sounded dangerous, his voice deep and coarse in a way youâd never heard before, every word he spoke seeming to rumble out of him.
He just didnât act dangerous.
Outlaws werenât giving, they didnât tease, or smile, or laugh, and they certainly didnât let some girl smart mouth them.
However, you werenât a complete fool.
You knew there was another, more prominent side of him that you were yet to truly witness. You saw glimpses of it sometimes - of the outlaw.
A man who was used to being respected or feared, or both. A man who had the strength and skill to take whatever he wanted, when he wanted it, and without asking.
Then Bucky would blink or turn away, and that momentary glimpse you were afforded passed.
It shouldnât drive you mad, it shouldnât make you want to see that side of him, yet... it did.
If you thought about it too long - the image of him being rough and commanding like his lifestyle demands, well...
You jump when Buckyâs hand waves in front of your face.
Looking up from the spot on the porch youâd been staring at but not actually seeing as you lost yourself in your thoughts, you meet Buckyâs blue eyes below his furrowed brow.
âYou really get lost in there, donât ya darlinâ?â
Thoughts still scattered, you absentmindedly respond âI donât mean to.â
Bucky just hums.
Shaking your head to finally clear it, you walk back into the house, listening as Bucky shuts the front door behind him.
Grabbing the old, empty vase that sits on the small glass table in the sitting room, you bring it to the kitchen sink and fill it with water before arranging the flowers in it.
You can feel Buckyâs gaze following you as he takes his usual seat at the dining table, but it doesnât unsettle you.
Returning the vase to its place in the sitting room, you admire the flowers once more with a soft smile before treading back to the kitchen.
When you pass Bucky you let out a small, confused sound as you come to a sudden stop.
Spinning to face him, you feel the skirt of your light green prairie dress tighten around your legs, and you discover the cause when you spot Buckyâs hand holding onto the bottom of your dress.
âWhat are you -â You start, flabbergasted until you actually focus on the section Bucky has grabbed.
âWhat happened?â He asks, not even having to look up from where he sits to meet your gaze.
The fabric is ripped, splitting the skirt upwards about four inches. Thereâs a scratch to match it along the back of your right leg, which you assume Bucky must have seen.
You canât read any emotion on his face, but you sense that heâs not pleased.
Strange.
âI was trying to fix the curtain rod in your - the spare room, but the wooden crate I was using broke and I fell.â
Fell seems like an exaggeration.
There wasnât much distance between you and the ground, but you had landed awkwardly, the wood catching on your dress and scratching your leg - thankfully not deep enough to draw blood.
Currently, youâre more concerned about how you almost referred to the spare room as Buckyâs.
When did it become his room?
Bucky frowns at you but doesnât speak, making you frown back.
A moment passes before he finally releases your dress, standing up. Still silent, Bucky turns and strides towards the hallway.
By the time you catch up heâs already in the spare room, assessing the window.
Youâd been replacing the curtains when the curtain rod bracket came off the wall on one side. It just needed to be screwed back in but the bracket was out of your reach.
The screwdriver sits on the windowsill, where you left it while you tossed the broken crate outside with some unfriendly words as your leg throbbed.
Grabbing the tool, Bucky reaches up to screw the bracket back in, the height not even a stretch for him.
Picking the curtain rod off the bed, you sit down in the same spot and bunch the curtains in your lap, keeping them off the floor as you watch Bucky quickly complete the task.
Turning around, he takes the curtain rod from you and hangs it up.
âWhat else?â
You stare at him for a second before pointing to the wardrobe behind you. âThe right doorâs a little loose.â
Diligently, he rounds the bed to the wardrobe and opens the right door, tightening the screws in the top hinge.
âI thought it was you the first time I saw it.â Bucky says abruptly, nodding to the bedside table closest to him where two photographs sit.
Both are of your mother.
In one sheâs holding you as a child - youâre no more than two years old, on her lap with a smile. In the other sheâs by herself and younger, about the age you are now.
âI once told my dad that I wished I could remember what she looked like, he told me to look in the mirror.â
He hadnât been exaggerating, the resemblance between you and her was clear as day. Something that always made you wonder if it was hard for him at times - being constantly reminded of her when he looked at you.
You might not have been old enough to remember it, but the love your father had for your mother shone brightly, never once fading over the years that followed her death.
âHe said that was the only thing we had in common,â Grinning, you drop your voice to a faux whisper as you repeat your fatherâs loving words âShe was a horrid cook and complete trouble maker.â
Bucky grins at that, giving a slight shake of his head as he swings the mended wardrobe door shut. âI dunno darlinâ, I think youâre plenty of trouble.â
â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·
After dinner is eaten and the dishes are cleaned, you always move into the sitting room for a bit while Bucky heads straight to bed.
Tonight however, heâs joined you.
Each sitting in an armchair across from one another, he nurses a glass of whiskey while you stitch the ripped fabric of your dress back together.
You use the light provided by the oil lamp and candles on the glass table between you and Bucky, placed around your vase.
As you glance at the flowers you realise you never actually thanked him for them.
Drawing your eyes higher, youâre not alarmed when you meet Buckyâs gaze.
Heâs always watching you.
âThank you for the flowers.â
Bucky was right of course, no man has ever given you flowers before.
âMy pleasure darlinâ.â His deep voice rumbles.
Youâre not sure why you suddenly feel so warm.
âAnd for fixing those things for me.â
Itâs not like you donât do anything for him in return, but you still want him to know you appreciate the help.
âIâll fix anythinâ you need,â Bucky states a little rougher âJust donât go hurtinâ yourself again.â
I didnât do it on purpose, you almost huff out.
Bucky must anticipate the retort or something similar to it, because he stands, finishing the rest of his whiskey in one mouthful.
He takes his glass to the kitchen sink before returning, clearly on his way to bed.
âSee you in the morning.â You say as he passes you.
âYou mean afternoon?â Bucky calls back, his tone lighter.
This time you do huff, letting out a quiet âShut up.â
His chuckle echoing down the hall lets you know you were heard.
â·â·â·â· 4 WEEKS LATER â·â·â·â·
The fourth time you open your front door to Bucky Barnes is... different from the others.
Nothingâs wrong per se, but itâs not right either.
Buckyâs the dirtiest youâve ever seen him. In fact, youâre struggling to find a visible patch of skin on him.
His large hands rest on the top of the doorframe and his dark blue eyes bore into you the moment the door is open.
âDarlinâ.â The word is spoken bluntly and you instantly know heâs not in the mood to talk.
You have a short-lived thought of turning him away.
Instead, you step to your left, silently inviting him inside.
For the first time since youâve met, Bucky feels dangerous.
Especially when you eye the guns still on his hips.
If this had been the Bucky who knocked on your door while bleeding out, youâre certain you never would have let him stay the night - let alone return.
Bucky trudges off to the bathroom, your eyes trailing after him.
When you hear the bathroom door shut you release a short breath, looking outside to find another irregularity.
Your feet carry you out onto the porch and down the three steps without a thought, drawn to where Alpine patiently waits.
She greets you cheerfully, nuzzling into your hands and covering them with dirt. Sheâs filthy.
Every other visit her white coat has gleamed, leaving you no doubt that Bucky cared for her deeply. Yet, like her owner, itâs hard to find a clean spot on her.
Alpine makes a noise and seems to nod towards the barn, as if to tell you that she needs food, water, rest, a bath.
The irritation you felt at Buckyâs stiff demeanour is replaced with concern.
You were in town only yesterday and hadnât heard of any new incidents involving Bucky.
Not that you were keeping an ear out.
âWhat happened, huh?â You ask Alpine, leading her to the barn.
She simply whinnies in response.
â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·
Youâve just started drying Alpine when you hear heavy footsteps enter the barn.
Her white coat shines once more, the familiar sight easing you, unlike the man approaching.
Buckyâs body radiates warmth as he comes to stand behind you, the scent of soap filling the air.
Daring to glance at him over your shoulder, you find him clean but worn out, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by.
Wordlessly, you let him take over the task.
You prepare Alpineâs stall, stocking it with fresh food and water while Bucky dries her. Heâs quietly murmuring to the horse, but you canât hear his words over the sound of Alpine chewing hay.
When Buckyâs finished he leads Alpine into the stall, closing and locking the gate behind her.
Itâs almost humorous. Alpine and Bucky are clean but now youâre not. Your dress is soaked and covered in mud.
The walk back to the house is taken in silence.
âIâll start dinner after I clean up.â You tell Bucky once youâre inside.
He gives no response.
After your bath you change into a simple white dress, the fabric light and less likely to make you sweat until you switch into your nightgown later on.
Stepping into the kitchen, you find Bucky leaning back in his usual seat, a bottle of whiskey opened on the table in front of him and almost finished.
You decide to make one of your specialties for dinner, hoping it will... well, youâre not really sure what youâre hoping it will do.
As you move around the kitchen you feel Buckyâs eyes on you, tracking your every movement as you keep your back to him more often than not.
That is until you have nothing left to do but let dinner simmer on the stove.
Turning around, you rest your back against the kitchen counter and meet Buckyâs stare.
He doesnât shift his gaze and neither do you.
âWhat happened?â You ask quietly.
You donât expect an answer and Buckyâs continued silence tells you there wonât be one.
Probably for the best.
Instead, Bucky lifts the whiskey bottle and swallows another mouthful, emptying it.
Pushing off the counter, you tread over to him.
âYou should have some water.â You state, reaching for the bottle.
Before your hand can wrap around it, itâs grabbed by one of Buckyâs, the quick manoeuvre drawing your gaze.
He doesnât look at you as he turns your hand over in his, focusing instead on your palm as he runs his thumb over the lines of your smoother skin.
You watch in a dazed state, letting him do as he pleases.
Bucky slowly brings your hand towards him, closer and closer until heâs pressing his forehead into your open palm.
The action stuns you and for a moment you donât know what to do.
So, you go with what feels right.
Pushing your fingers back and forth timidly, you weave them between the strands of his damp hair.
The droop of Buckyâs shoulders boosts your confidence and you take a step forward, raising your right hand to join your left.
Buckyâs head remains bowed, his face hidden from you.
Taking another step forward to stand more comfortably, you release a small noise of surprise when Buckyâs hands grab at your waist, tugging you even closer until his forehead presses into your stomach instead.
Your heart stutters in your throat and your hands falter, but with a shaky breath you start stroking Buckyâs hair again, just as his strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you tight against him.
Being held in such a way makes you feel...
No, donât dare think it.
Growing bolder, your fingertips start drawing shapes on the back of his neck while you play with the ends of his hair. The longer you do this, the more relaxed Bucky becomes.
Eventually however, the sound of dinner bubbling concerningly cuts through the peace.
You look over worriedly, not wanting the meal to ruin.
Bucky seems to realise, his arms tightening around you before dropping completely. Without looking at him, you dart over to the stove and turn it off.
Dinner is eaten in silence.
ââM going to bed.â Bucky states once heâs finished.
His first sentence since arriving.
âOkay,â You reply softly.
â·â·â·â· THE NEXT DAY â·â·â·â·
You donât expect to find Bucky making breakfast.
Walking into the kitchen, you had been prepared to discover that Bucky had left long before you woke. Youâre glad he hasnât.
He doesnât appear as worn down either, and the brief upwards tug of his mouth when he turns to see you is more than enough to have you smiling back.
While Buckyâs still clearly dealing with whatever, his mood has at least improved.
Predictably, itâs quiet throughout the meal.
You wait at the bottom of the porch steps while Bucky retrieves Alpine from the barn, admiring the flat plains that appear to stretch on forever all around you.
The sound of Alpineâs hooves reaches your ears and you watch as Bucky leads the white beauty to you, stopping her by your side.
âYou gonna be okay?â
Youâre not sure why you ask, but you do.
Bucky looks at you over his shoulder, his hands on the saddle he was about to mount.
He studies you, his eyes dark under his hat, before doing something that muddles your brain.
In a blink-and-youâd-miss-it moment, Bucky drops his hands and turns from Alpine, covering the distance between you in a short step before pressing his mouth to your forehead, his beard scratching at your skin.
âJust fine darlinâ.â His deep voice rumbles as he pulls back.
Looking at you one more time, Bucky spins back to Alpine and mounts her in one fluid movement. Then theyâre gone.
You can still feel the touch of his lips as you watch their figures fade.
â·â·â·â· 2 WEEKS LATER â·â·â·â·
Town was a good hourâs ride from your home, and it was for that reason you only ever made the journey once a week, every Thursday.
Your main stop was the general store where you bought food and other necessities. The storeâs owner - Billy, would talk to you from his spot behind the counter, giving you a weekly rundown of town affairs.
Most of the time it was just mundane gossip you didnât really care for, but not today.
According to Billy, there was a new gang causing havoc around the plains, trying to make a name for themselves.
âTheyâve been robbinâ properties all over, startinâ fires and roughinâ up any fella in their way, they even -â
Billy never finished that sentence, but his averted gaze told you how it ended.
âDunno why Iâm worrinâ ya with this girl, God himself couldnât find ya all the way out there.â
The declaration wasnât that farfetched. Unless someone knew where you lived they needed to be lost to find it.
However, if someone was intentionally on the prowl...
You check over your fatherâs shotgun the minute you return home.
Some days itâs hard to forget that youâre a woman living on her own, with no help nearby. Tonight that fact looms over you like a dark cloud.
In fact, it keeps you wide awake, sitting at the dining table with the shotgun in reach until the sun rises again.
Youâre sluggish the whole day, tired and on edge.
When afternoon rolls around youâve cleaned the entire house in an attempt to distract yourself and for the most part, itâs worked.
That is until you hear the unmistakable sound of horse hooves in the distance.
Fear strikes your heart in a way youâve never experienced and you instantly wish to never experience it again.
Racing to the window above the kitchen sink with the shotgun in hand, you almost cry in relief at what you see.
A white horse and her dark rider.
Sucking in deep breaths, you close your eyes and focus on the fast thump of your heartbeat until it returns to a calmer rhythm.
Youâre putting the shotgun back in its place under your bed when you hear his heavy footsteps on the porch, followed by three loud knocks.
Thereâs no denying the way you immediately feel... safe.
âBucky,â You greet a little breathlessly as you open the front door.
âHi darlinâ.â He grins, eyes softening just slightly.
Itâs hard to picture the sombre man you invited inside only two weeks ago.
âBack so soon?â You attempt to tease, though you feel it falls flat in your drained state.
You wonder if Bucky can tell.
Ducking his head and pinning you under his stare thatâs regained its usual intensity, he responds âYou donât mind, do ya?â
No, never.
Smiling, you answer âLuckily for you, Iâm in a gracious mood.â
The tease lands better this time.
Humming, Bucky agrees âLucky me.â
â·â·â·â· THE NEXT DAY â·â·â·â·
After dinner it wasnât Bucky who retired to bed first, but you.
The moment your head hit the pillow you were out cold.
Maybe it should concern you how easily you let your guard down just because Bucky was close by, but you donât ruminate on it long enough to let it.
Itâs late morning, maybe even afternoon when you eventually wake. The heat in your room makes that much obvious.
Bucky doesnât say a word once you walk out into the sitting room where he waits, reading one of your books again. However, the smirk he occupies as he gets up and goes into the kitchen says it all.
While you eat the breakfast - lunch, Bucky has made, you feel fear start to leach back in.
You donât want him to leave you.
Unable to voice your plea, you take your time eating, dragging out the inevitable until youâre standing and taking your plate to the sink.
When you donât hear the familiar sounds of Bucky collecting his things, you peek over your shoulder and see heâs still seated at the dining table.
Your gaze meets his.
Bucky answers the question in your eyes. âIâm supposed to meet my - some friends east of here in a couple of days.â You donât miss his slip of tongue. âIf I wouldnât be overstayinâ -â
âNo.â You interject much too quickly. âNo, you wouldnât be.â
He nods and stands up from the table, gesturing to the front of the house. âYour porch needs fixinâ.â
While you kept the inside of the house to a spotless standard, the exterior was starting to show its age. The porch in particular, the boards old and beginning to rot.
âI know, Iâve got new wood to replace it with.â
You had it delivered out a couple of weeks ago. You just hadnât gotten around to actually starting the task yet.
The sun beams down on you both as you walk side by side to the barn, past the horse stalls where you give Chesterâs outstretched neck a fond pat, to the back where the tools and wood are stored.
Bucky hauls a bundle of wooden planks over his shoulder while you carry a crateful of tools behind him.
Thatâs all he lets you do, refusing your help when you go to walk back with him to collect the rest of the planks.
Standing on the bottom porch step, you watch him go back and forth from the barn until heâs brought out the last plank, creating a large pile.
âI can help.â You insist, feeling guilty about having him do all the work, even though he was the one who offered.
Bucky just shakes his head with a huff.
âDarlinâ, go inside and relax.â He instructs, bending down to pick up a hammer from the crate. âOr,â He adds, straightening and strolling over to you, forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. âSit out here and give me somethinâ pretty to look at.â
Your stomach drops as heat floods your face.
Managing a weak scoff, you avert your eyes and spin around, quickly retreating into the house.
Buckyâs hearty laugh follows you inside.
â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·
Taking Bucky up on his first suggestion, you spend the rest of the day in the sitting room, reading.
When late afternoon creeps around and Buckyâs been outside for around three hours, you mark the page youâre on and get up to make him a snack.
Using the door at your end of the hallway that leads outside to where you do the laundry, you balance a sandwich and glass of lemonade on a tray as you walk down the side of the house.
The sight that greets you when you round the corner almost has the tray slipping out of your hands.
Buckyâs shirtless.
His tanned skin glistens with sweat, the muscles in his back and arms prominent as he saws a wooden plank in half.
The longer you stare the more scars you begin to see, most small, others not, marking his body in a pattern unique to him.
You want to ask for the story behind each and every one.
Blinking out of your stupor, you step closer to where Bucky stands in front of the porch steps, sawing through the few remaining planks.
Swallowing thickly, you call out his name.
Buckyâs head lifts, looking over his shoulder at you before the rest of his body turns.
For a second time, you fight to keep the tray steady in your hands.
Youâve only seen peeks of the hair that covers his chest, but now itâs on full display and you canât help but sweep your gaze down, over his firm stomach, to another patch of hair that leads to -
âMade you something to eat.â You declare, lifting the tray.
It only shakes a little.
Striding over to you, Bucky grins âThank you darlinâ.â
His large, rough hands brush over yours as he takes the tray and warmth pools in your stomach.
âYouâve done a lot.â You observe, desperate to look at anything except him.
All of the old boards have been ripped up and Buckyâs already laid down new ones on the entire left side of the porch, as well as on the steps, where he now takes a seat.
âShould be done by sundown.â
Itâs... nice, you realise. So utterly nice to have a man around to help you - to help look after you.
Though not just any man.
Bucky.
Youâll admit that. To yourself at least.
The sound of Buckyâs glass hitting the tray draws your attention. It shouldnât surprise you that heâs already finished.
âYou keep eating that fast and your stomach will end you before anyone else gets the chance.â You comment with a raised eyebrow as you wander over to him.
Bucky smirks as he stands, handing you the tray. âDarlinâ, if your cookinâ is what takes me out, Iâll die a happy man.â
â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·
As the sun begins to dip behind the horizon, the front door opens.
You look up from where youâre curled into one of the armchairs with a book in your hands.
Buckyâs dark blue eyes roam over you for a prolonged moment before he husks out âCome take a look darlinâ.â
He disappears back outside as you stand and make your way over.
Opening the front door fully, you take in the restored porch with a wide smile, stepping out onto it.
âWow,â You gush âIt looks amazing Bucky, thank you.â
You glance over to where he stands in front of the porch steps and meet his gaze briefly before he breaks it, pointing to a pile of the old wooden planks a few yards away.
âThat woodâs no good for your fireplace so Iâll burn it tonight, that way itâs not takinâ up any space.â Bucky explains, moving to pick up the tools he left on the ground, dropping them into the crate.
You watch him quietly, leaning against the railing just down from where his shirt and gun belt hang.
It hadnât escaped your notice that Bucky was wearing it when he arrived yesterday, like he had on his last visit.
You hadnât thought much about it at the time and you donât now, too mesmerised by him.
Thereâs a sense of delight in watching him while his attention is focused elsewhere.
Suddenly you think you understand why he watches you.
âYou shouldnât look at me like that darlinâ.â
Buckyâs abrupt words startle you as he turns and captures your gaze.
Like what?
You canât find the courage to ask him.
Shifting your eyes, you act as if he hadnât spoken. âIâve been meaning to ask, what kind of name is Bucky?â
His chuckle makes you brave enough to look at him once more.
âItâs a nickname.â Bucky answers.
Watching him as he slowly wanders towards you, you press âWhatâs your real name then?â
Bucky comes to a stop in front of you and for the first time youâre the one that has to look down - if only just.
He runs a hand through his sweat dampened hair, pushing it back from his face as he studies you.
âJames Buchannan Barnes.â
The confession is gentle, meaningful.
âJames,â You repeat softly, giving a small smile. âNow thatâs a name.â
Vivid blue eyes - dark and electric, gaze upon you with something you canât name as you unexpectedly feel Buckyâs knuckles brushing against your cheek.
âSay it again,â He murmurs.
Your breathing grows heavier as your heart begins a wild rhythm in your chest, his touch so... addictive on your skin.
When your mouth parts to speak, his thumb catches on your bottom lip and itâs a miracle you remain upright, clutching at the porch railing.
Before you can utter his name again, you hear it.
Itâs faint, but it still manages to draw your attention.
Thereâs horses in the distance, kicking up a large dust cloud behind them as they race towards you, the sound of their hooves echoing across the flat landscape.
You canât tell how many there are yet.
The rough sound of your name returns your focus to Bucky, who is already marching up the porch steps. He breezes past you, reaching for his shirt and gun belt.
âGet inside and stay there.â Bucky orders sharply.
Just like that, the side of himself heâd just been presenting to you disappears, replaced by -
âNow.â He grits out, his eyes shifting to you.
That finally sends you rushing inside, leaving him as he buttons up his shirt.
Darting into the kitchen, you draw the curtain across the window that overlooks the porch.
Bending over the sink, you pinch the bottom right corner of the curtain between your thumb and forefinger, lifting it until you can just peek out.
Redressed, Bucky takes a seat on one of the two porch chairs and places his black hat on his head, tilting it down until his features are obscured and leans back.
He looks like heâs about to fall asleep.
You pick up on a faint noise and realise that Buckyâs whistling, as if truly unbothered.
A man like him would be.
Somewhere between a minute and an eternity passes before the horses - four of them, come galloping up to the house with their male riders.
Bucky keeps whistling.
The horses come to a stop beside each other in front of the porch, forming a line. The man to the far right urges his horse forward a step.
He eyes Bucky before glancing back at his comrades, pulling out a shotgun from behind him and placing it across his lap.
âOi!â
Buckyâs whistling fades out, the sudden silence unsettling as he straightens in the chair, hat still tilted.
âCan I help you?â Bucky drawls.
His reaction has clearly thrown the men into confusion as they all look to one another before three of them focus on the man who yelled - their leader you assume.
âYouâre not too bright, are ya fella?â
The insult makes you wince.
Bucky laughs.
Itâs a sound you should find familiar for all the times youâve managed to raise one out of him, but thereâs nothing familiar about it - itâs dark and without humour.
Maybe it should scare you.
It doesnât.
The men dumbly laugh with him, the one on the far left announcing âWeâre here to rob you fool!â
Laughter rings out louder from them, the gang appearing to relax in this odd situation theyâve found themselves in.
âYeah,â Another one echoes âEverythinâ ya got.â
Not to be left out, the only one yet to speak adds âThat means any ladies too.â
Buckyâs laughter abruptly ceases and the leader notices immediately, unlike his three cackling morons.
âYa gonna give us trouble fella?â He asks warily, the others falling silent at the sound of his voice.
Thereâs a pause before Bucky answers âDepends.â
âOn what?â A moron sneers, clearly unimpressed.
âOn whether or not you leave.â Bucky states, voice low and menacing. ââCos you make one move towards this house and the last thing any of you will see is the bullet I put between your eyes.â
He draws their attention to the guns on either side of his hips.
The leader hovers his hand above the shotgun on his lap.
Another moron lets out a guffaw, âTheyâre not even out!â
God theyâre dumb.
âNo,â Bucky agrees, his tone clearly revealing his dwindling patience. âBut Iâve been told I got pretty fast hands.â
Knocking his hat back from his face, Buckyâs hands drop to rest on the handles of his guns.
âBucky Barnes.â A moron gapes, looking like he just wet himself.
The atmosphere completely shifts amongst the gang, their leaderâs eyes widening as he moves his hand away from his shotgun, raising it in the air instead.
âMister Barnes, we ainât mean no disrespect sir.â He quickly appeases.
Heads bounce up and down as the others hurriedly agree, watching Bucky fearfully.
You canât stop the smile that pulls at your lips.
âWell boys, Iâm not too bright,â
Oh, heâs good.
âSo remind me what it was I just told yâall to do.â
Instead of actually doing it, one of the morons stutters out âUh, well, you told us to leave sir.â
Thereâs a lull, Buckyâs frustration palpable, and a part of you believes heâs going to shoot them. In fact, youâre about to turn from the window to avoid the sight.
Before you can however, Bucky speaks again, his voice harsh. âSo?â
Finally they gain an ounce of sense and urge their horses to move.
âThank you sir.â The leader gasps gratefully, turning his horse around.
Heâs smart enough to know heâs escaped a bullet, but not smart enough to see how his words irk Bucky further.
It doesnât matter now. He and his morons are already racing away like the devil himself is behind them.
Maybe he is.
Bucky doesnât move from the chair. Instead he watches as the gang disappears into the horizon.
When the sky grows dark, the sun all but gone, you pull back the curtain and move away from the window.
Youâre lighting the candles and lamp on the sitting room table when the front door opens and Bucky steps inside.
Looking up at him, you straighten and say âThat was...â
Trailing off, you frown as you realise you donât really know how to describe what that was.
Watching Bucky handle the situation, making the four men appear stupid and harmless had been amazing, even though -
Even though they werenât.
The realisation hits you then.
If you had been alone like you shouldâve been, those men, those four men would have -
âHey,â Buckyâs deep voice cuts through the terror settling in your chest - the terror he must see on your face. âYouâre okay darlinâ.â
But...
Youâre vaguely aware of Bucky striding over to you.
âIf you werenât here -â
âI was.â Bucky cuts in, his voice leaving no room for argument. Grasping your chin, he tilts your head up until you meet his gaze. âI was here and thatâs all that matters.â
The declaration is spoken gruffly, but the tender stroke of his thumb over your chin is comforting - the action belonging to your Bucky.
Your?
âOkay.â You reply quietly, after a few minutes have passed and his words have sunk in.
âYouâre safe,â Bucky assures. âYouâre safe with me.â
â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·
Itâs late at night, the moon high in the sky when you find yourself standing on the porch.
You canât sleep, your mind refusing to be quiet.
Too much happened today. Too many emotions were brought to the surface, bringing with them revelations youâd been trying hard to ignore.
Ignoring them now seemed impossible.
Youâve never had romantic feelings for anyone. You knew long ago that your future would be a lonely one, and you had made peace with it.
Then he came along.
Instead of finding your usual place of contentment in the loneliness each time he left, you found yourself counting the days between his visits, eagerly listening for his knock on your front door.
Then came the feelings.
At what point did your heart choose to swell and thunder in your chest at the mere sight of him? At what point did you find yourself missing his watchful gaze when it wasnât on you? At what point did you decide to trust him with your life?
In your relatively short time together, Bucky has somehow managed to carve out a space for himself within you, and you donât know how to get him out.
You donât know if you want to get him out.
âEverythinâ alright darlinâ?â
For a second you think youâve imagined Buckyâs voice during your ruminating, but his presence beside you is real.
âYeah,â You answer softly. âWas just looking at the stars.â
It was one of the reasons you came out here.
Humming, Bucky leans against the railing to your right, peering up. âThereâs no better sight to fall asleep to.â
You remember him once mentioning that most of his nights were spent on the ground in the great nothingness.
âIâm sure,â You reply. âBut I think Iâd miss my bed every once in a while.â
Bucky lets out a faint chuckle.
Thereâs a comfortable silence as you both admire the stars twinkling above, but soon a prickling at the back of your neck has your head turning to find Bucky openly watching you.
âYou drive me crazy like this.â He murmurs, almost to himself. âYou drive me crazy all the time,â He amends âBut especially like this.â
Like what?
You donât have to find the courage to ask this time.
âStandinâ in your nightgown, smellinâ like lavender,â Bucky admits freely, repeating âDrives me crazy.â
Your body comes to life at his confession.
Goosebumps erupt over your skin and your heart pounds faster as a warmth settles low in your stomach.
âJames...â You respond softly, not sure what to say.
âI havenât stopped thinkinâ about you since we met. Every day, youâre my first and last thought. Always wonderinâ if youâre havinâ a good day, if youâre safe, if youâre thinkinâ âbout me.â He shifts closer to you, ducking his head until youâre eye level. âWonderinâ what your mouth tastes like, how your skin would feel under my hands, what kind of sounds youâd make for me.â
Your breathing grows short and heavy as he leans in so his mouth is only an inch away.
âGonna let me find out darlinâ?â Bucky whispers against your lips.
âYes.â Breathless and desperate, you add âPlease.â
Desperate to be touched - loved, by him.
A thought youâll come back to another day.
Buckyâs mouth claims yours gently, his lips softer than you imagined as they press against yours, his beard grazing your skin.
Youâre tentative in your inexperience, but soon youâre pressing back with an eagerness Bucky happily returns. His tongue glides along your bottom lip, encouraging your mouth to open and when it does he consumes you.
Your arms anchor around his neck to steady yourself as his hands run down your sides to find purchase on your hips.
When you pull back for a desperate gulp of air, Buckyâs hands slip behind your body to grasp your bottom, making you gasp as he lifts you against him.
Securing your legs around Buckyâs waist, you cling to him as he carries you back into the house.
You use the time it takes to get to your room to feel him.
His beard scratches against the palms of your hands before you slip them into his smooth hair, all while you press light, shy kisses to the bare skin of his neck. The soft sigh Bucky releases enchants you.
Then youâre feeling the floor of your bedroom under your feet as he gently sets you down.
Bucky lowers to his knees in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hands close around the hem of your white nightgown, his knuckles brushing against your calves.
The only lighting is the candle you left burning on your bedside table and the moon beaming through your thin curtains, but itâs enough to see the desire in his eyes - which is surely reflected in your own, as you nod to his unspoken question.
In one swift motion Bucky stands, slipping the nightgown up and off of you.
Your legs press together instinctively and your hands twitch with the urge to cover yourself once more as youâre hit with the vulnerability of being completely bared to Bucky.
âNo darlinâ,â He husks out roughly, grasping your wrists and holding your arms still as his heated gaze peruses your body. âPrettiest fuckinâ thing Iâve ever seen.â
The fervour Bucky speaks with has you weak.
Pulling you to him, Buckyâs clothes rub against your skin and for some reason make you burn even hotter as his mouth swallows yours in a passionate kiss.
Walking you backwards until your legs hit the bed, Bucky breaks the kiss to lay you down, crawling over you still clothed. His lips seek out your neck this time, sucking and nibbling at the skin.
The sensations of his mouth are soon drowned out by the sudden feel of his rough hands on your lower stomach and you gasp as he slides them up your body to cup your pebbled breasts.
For the first time, you moan.
Buckyâs head jerks up from your neck to look down at you, his expression ravenous as he massages your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples as you feel the wetness pooling between your legs.
He lowers to kiss your mouth, this time slow and intimate as his hands continue their sinful touch, his right hand straying away from your chest to trail down and down and...
Gasping against his lips, your body shudders as you feel Buckyâs fingers push through the curls covering your sex, just millimetres from -
You reach for his wrist.
Bucky stops instantly, his hand stilling as he pulls back from your lips to meet your gaze.
Thereâs no way he doesnât already know, yet you still find yourself needing to say âI... Iâve never...â
âI know darlinâ,â Bucky soothes. âIâm gonna go nice and slow. Make you feel so good, I promise.â
You release his wrist.
Buckyâs left hand cups and rubs one of your breasts while his right continues its way down to where no man has ever touched you.
The whole time, you watch one another.
You gasp sharply when his fingers graze along your folds, feeling the wetness and warmth flowing from your centre.
It pulls a deep grunt from Bucky who dips down for a hot kiss.
âGonna treat you sâgood, sweet girl.â He whispers as he breaks away, moving down your body.
Heâs never called you that before.
Say it again.
Youâre torn from your thoughts when his mouth wraps around your left nipple while his right hand keeps caressing your sex.
Bucky switches his attention between each breast until youâre a wriggling, panting mess. With a smirk he moves even further down, planting kisses over your stomach as he goes.
Kneeling between your spread legs, Bucky wraps his large hands around your ankles before skimming them up your legs to grasp your thighs. He rests them on his broad shoulders, his warm breath fanning over your core.
Confused, youâre frowning down at him when he does the unexpected. Staring at you, Bucky lowers his head and licks along your slit.
Your hips buck up but donât go far in his hold, your stomach tightening at the strange sensation as you let out a strangled noise.
Bucky makes a sound of satisfaction as he glides his tongue over your sex, his hands clutching your inner thighs tightly to keep you open for him.
This...
Youâve talked about sex in hushed whispers with some women in town but they never, ever mentioned anything like this.
When Bucky closes his mouth around your sensitive bud your legs jerk while your hands seek him out, gripping his hair firmly as you moan so vulgarly you donât recognise your own voice.
âThatâs it,â Bucky praises, licking your clit. âKeep makinâ those noises for me sweet girl.â
Your brain is nothing but a puddle of mush as one of his fingers pushes into you experimentally.
How long Bucky spends working you over, you have no idea, but eventually heâs pushing three of his fingers in and out of you.
Youâre loud, making noises foreign to you as he licks, pushes, and sucks. Itâs too much, itâs not enough, itâs...
âIâve got you darlinâ, come on, come for me.â
With one final suck on your clit, your body tenses and then snaps.
You shout out in your pleasure, tugging on the strands of Buckyâs hair as he keeps licking, watching you explode.
Itâs not until your sounds turn into something small and pitiful at the overstimulation that he stands from the bed, his beard shining with you in the moonlight as he finally undresses.
You eye him hungrily in your dazed state, watching as his shirt flutters to the floor, followed by his trousers. Your stuttered breath fills the otherwise quiet room.
Heâs...
Subconsciously, you press your legs together again.
Bucky tskâs, his hands sliding under your knees and pulling them apart. âSweet girl, what did I tell you?â
Settling between your legs once more, he hovers above you.
You can only hold his dark gaze for a moment before your eyes drift downwards.
His cock is hard, and leaking, and big. You donât think theyâre supposed to be that big. Your hand wouldnât even be able to fit around it, so how was it supposed to fit in you?
âLike whatcha see darlinâ?â You hear the smirk in his rough tone before you look up and see it.
Flustered, you mumble out a breathless âItâs big.â
Bucky groans deeply, like heâs in pain, and swoops down to kiss you, dominating your mouth.
âDonât worry sweet girl,â He whispers against your lips. âItâll fit in your little pussy.â
Shivering at his wicked tongue, your eyes dart down to look at it again.
âCan I touch it?â
Bucky grunts, watching you from underneath his lashes. âSâall yours darlinâ.â
Timidly, you reach down between your bodies until you can wrap your hand around the base of his cock.
You were right, your hand doesnât fit around it.
Itâs hot and heavy in your palm as you give it a soft stroke before returning to the base. You repeat the action but this time you trail your thumb along the vein you had felt on the underside of his cock.
Buckyâs forehead drops onto yours, his breathing heavy.
A flick of your eyes upwards shows you that Buckyâs are closed, his jaw clenched tight.
The sight sends tingles through you and with a burst of confidence you tighten your grip around his cock and stroke him again, thumbing at his leaking head when you reach the top.
Hissing, one of Buckyâs hands shoots down to grab your wrist.
You look up and meet his open eyes.
Pulling your hand off his cock, Bucky husks âWonât last if you keep doinâ that sweet girl.â
The statement thrills you.
Buckyâs hands wrap around your thighs, placing them over the top of his and spreading you beneath him.
Grasping himself in one hand, Bucky keeps his eyes on you as he slowly pushes into you. The stretch burns, making you bite down on your lip as you try to take all of him.
Stopping, Bucky lowers to capture your mouth while his other hand sneaks down to gently circle your bud, relaxing and distracting you as he continues to push in bit by bit until he finally bottoms out.
âYou tell me when darlinâ.â Bucky pants above you, unmoving.
A few minutes pass and when you feel like youâve adjusted as much as you can, you say âOkay, just...â
âIâll go slow sweet girl.â Bucky promises again, reading your mind.
True to his word, Bucky gradually pulls his length out of you before pushing it back in at the same pace. Your teeth snag your bottom lip again as he moves in and out of you, the feeling just shy of painful.
Bucky never looks away from your face, catching every emotion that flashes across it. Youâre warm and tight - so tight, around his cock and it has him on the brink of madness. However, your pleasure is what he cares about most and when your face remains pinched on his fourth push into you, his eyebrows draw in concern.
As he pushes himself in on his fifth stroke, Bucky says âDarlinâ, do you -â
You moan loud and short, the sound a mixture of bliss and surprise as the pain suddenly gives way to pleasure.
Bucky grunts above you, the look on your face seeming to make him even harder as he puts a little more power behind his next thrust, watching as it makes you moan again.
âThere you go sweet girl,â He husks. âThat feel good darlinâ?â
âYes.â Your hands wind in his hair, bringing his face down to yours for a desperate kiss as Bucky continues his slow thrusts.
Somethingâs clawing at your stomach, wanton. You need more.
Your right hand untangles from Buckyâs hair to slide down his muscled back, brushing over the bumps of scars as you hold onto him.
Breaking apart, you pant against his lips âFaster.â You donât know how you know thatâs what you need, but you do. âHarder, please.â You plead in a lustful tone.
You havenât been oblivious to the wild look in his dark blue eyes, to the barely restrained control he exhibits.
However, your words, your tone, they undo Buckyâs control for a moment and in an almost uncontrollable action his hips slam up into yours as he grunts âFuck darlinâ.â
The powerful thrust claws a breathy whine of shock out of you.
âGonna kill me, arenât ya sweet girl?â Bucky murmurs thickly, reining his control back slightly as he does what you asked and pushes into you at a faster pace, his thrusts harder.
Your head pushes back into the bed beneath you as you moan out, the nails of your right hand digging into their hold on Buckyâs back while your left grips his hair tighter.
âLook at me.â Bucky commands in a tone so low you feel the rumble of it against you.
You tilt your head down to meet his heady gaze.
âJames,â You whimper, the sensations building within you.
âFuck.â He thrusts a bit deeper, pushes a bit harder, making you mewl. âI know, I know darlinâ, gonna come for me again, arenât ya?â
He gives another deep thrust, the force pushing you slightly up the bed.
It feels so good. Youâre so close, youâre right there...
âSay my name sweet girl,â Bucky groans, rubbing at your clit. âSay my name when I make you come.â
A pleasure so intense it has your eyes rolling back erupts in you, making your whole body tighten and relax repeatedly as you moan, whine, and pant for James as you swim in ecstasy.
The sight of you coming so undone for him - because of him, sends Bucky hurtling.
Pulling out of your pulsing heat, his right hand wraps around his painfully hard cock and squeezes as he tugs it roughly, consumed by lust. On the third harsh stroke he spills over your stomach with a wrecked moan of your name.
Buckyâs forehead drops to yours, your heaving breaths mingling together as you both come back to yourselves.
Pressing forward, Bucky claims your mouth in a brief, sweet kiss.
âYou okay darlinâ?â He whispers.
A drowsy, satisfied nod is all you can manage.
â·â·â·â· THE NEXT DAY â·â·â·â·
Youâre surrounded by warmth when you blink awake and it takes you a moment to realise the source isnât the sunlight streaming into your room, but Buckyâs body underneath yours.
If heaven was a feeling this had to be close.
âMorninâ darlinâ.â Buckyâs voice is raspier, a clear sign heâs not long woken.
Tilting your head up from where it rests on his bare chest, you meet Buckyâs gentle gaze and give a small smile, quietly returning âMorning.â
In a movement too fast for your sleepy mind to comprehend, Bucky grabs your hips and effortlessly rolls you onto your back so he can hover above you.
Nudging your nose with his own, he captures your mouth in a tender kiss.
âHow do you feel?â He asks after pulling back.
Images of last night rush back to you, flooding your body with heat as you answer honestly. âA little sore, but good.â
Humming, Bucky runs his left hand up and down your side. âJust good?â
You duck away from his burning gaze, making him laugh.
âStill shy after last night darlinâ?â He questions, though it comes across more like a statement.
Regardless, Bucky doesnât wait for a response, instead he leans down and kisses you again.
This one is deeper, his lips pressing against yours harder as you willingly open your mouth to him.
You feel the air in the room thicken as Buckyâs left hand continues to roam and grasp while both of yours stroke through his hair.
Despite the soreness between your legs, that desire from last night begins pooling in your stomach.
Breaking apart, you both breathe heavily as Bucky utters âAlready need you again sweet girl.â
Pressing soft kisses all over your face before moving down to your neck where he scratches his beard against you, Bucky speaks against your ear. âBut I gotta let you recover first before I ruin you all over again, donât I darlinâ?â
You shudder at his words as he places a final kiss below your ear before moving away and getting up.
He pulls on his trousers, his blue eyes swimming with desire as he peruses your naked body while doing them up.
Licking his lips, Bucky husks âIâll get breakfast started.â
â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·â·
âWhen do you have to meet your friends?â You ask Bucky as he takes your plate and sets it with his own in the sink.
âWhatcha mean darlinâ?â
âYou said you were waiting to meet them.â You remind him, recalling the conversation you had yesterday.
Yesterday?
It felt like a lifetime ago now.
Buckyâs back is still to you and his silence makes you frown. âYouâre... not meeting them?â You guess hesitantly.
Why would he lie?
If he wanted to stay longer, he just had to ask.
Turning around to lean against the kitchen counter, Buckyâs arms bulge as they cross over his still bare chest.
Despite the current circumstance, the sight makes your stomach flip.
Bucky observes you for a moment before admitting âI heard there was a new gang causinâ problems âround these parts.â
Thatâs all he says, leaving you to fill in the blanks.
Your heartbeat quickens at the possible implication of his words.
âSo...â You prompt softly, daring to hope.
Pushing from the counter, Bucky steps over to you, his gaze holding yours as he rests a hand on the table beside you before ducking until your eyes are level.
âSo I needed to make sure my sweet girl was safe,â He whispers, raising his other hand âAnd that she stayed that way.â Brushing a gentle finger over your cheek, Bucky finishes âIâve got nowhere else to be darlinâ.â
â·â·â·â· 6 DAYS LATER â·â·â·â·
For six days youâre in a world of your own, where only you and Bucky exist.
You knew it was only a matter of time, but that doesnât stop the disappointment you feel when life finally crashes in.
Waking up to an empty bed for the first time since you surrendered yourself to Bucky, you donât think too much about it as you slip on your nightgown.
Venturing out into the hallway, you freeze when you hear voices.
Fear begins to take hold until you push it back.
Bucky would never put you in danger. Of that, youâre certain.
âYou sure? The lawâs been gettinâ closer than I like.â An unfamiliar male voice states.
âWeâve been planninâ this for too damn long to back out now.â Is Buckyâs reply.
Sucking in a breath, you know you really shouldnât be listening to this.
Continuing towards the sitting room, you step louder than you normally would, alerting them of your presence.
Two men sit in your kitchen, their hulking figures making the small table between them appear child-sized. Their heads turn and two sets of blue eyes - one light, the other dark - land on you as you loiter awkwardly in the sitting room.
Glancing as long as you dare at the stranger, you note his dark blond hair which brushes against his dirty collar and wild beard that reminds you of Buckyâs the first time he knocked on your door.
You know youâve seen his wanted posters, but his name eludes you.
âDarlinâ,â Bucky crooks a finger at you, urging you over to him. âThis is Steve, weâve been friends since we were kids.â
Steve.
You could recall the name at the bottom of the posters now - Steve Rogers.
âHello,â You greet shyly, offering your name as Buckyâs hands settle on your hips and pull you onto his lap.
Not meaning to interrupt them, you look up at Bucky in question. He squeezes your hips, telling you itâs okay.
âItâs nice to finally meet you,â Steve declares with a secretive smile. âIâm sorry for barging in.â
âItâs okay.â
âAre you?â Bucky grumbles at the same time, making Steve chuckle.
This one laughs too.
âIâll give you two a moment.â Steve appeases, standing up and settling a worn brown hat on his head.
You realise heâs only wearing socks and find it oddly thoughtful that he took his boots off before coming in.
âWeâll have to get acquainted some other time.â Steve remarks, and by the way Buckyâs grip tightens you gather heâs only saying it to be a menace, especially when he adds âMaybe you can cook me somethinâ too.â
âFuck off.â Bucky growls, but Steveâs already slipping out the front door with a grin.
Grumbling, Bucky lifts you off his lap and onto the table, fusing his mouth to yours.
Once heâs thoroughly reduced your mind to empty space, Bucky pulls back and orders âDonât you dare cook him or any other man anything, ever.â
âJames.â You sigh, smiling.
âYou wonât like what happens if you do darlinâ.â He promises in a darker tone.
The thrill that shoots up your spine suggests that maybe you would.
Regardless, you playfully huff âIf you insist.â
âI do.â Bucky grunts before kissing you again.
When you break apart, the mood turns solemn.
âYou have to go?â You ask, already knowing the answer.
âYeah darlinâ, I gotta go.â
Forcing a smile, you whisper âOkay,â as if you have any say in the matter.
Rubbing his nose against yours, Bucky soothes âIâll be back darlinâ, like always.â
â·â·â·â· 3 WEEKS LATER â·â·â·â·
Sighing, you dry the plate in your hands and eye the dishes you still have left. You probably wouldâve finished the mundane task by now if you didnât move so slow while daydreaming.
You spent most of today in the barn, completing chores. It wasnât until the sun had almost set that you wandered back into the house and began making dinner.
Once these dishes were away you planned on taking a long bath.
Stacking the last plate, you pick up one of the candles on the dining table and blow out the rest, blanketing the house in darkness.
Using the light source in your hand, you check over the windows and lock the front door before trudging down to your bedroom.
Stepping into the dark room you canât help but miss the moon and the light it provides as you place the candle on your bedside table.
Clutching the bottom of your pale yellow dress you lift it up and off, leaving you in nothing but a thin slip when you hear the unmistakable sound of a match striking.
Gasping, you whirl around as your heart hammers in your chest.
âDonât stop on my account darlinâ.â Bucky drawls, seated in the chair at the opposite corner of your room.
Waving out the match he just used to light the candle on the dressing table beside him, his dark eyes watch you like a hawk. âGo on.â
A shiver races down your spine.
This isnât your sweet Bucky.
In an almost nervous manner you reach for the straps of your slip, hesitating for just a second before pushing them off your shoulders.
You hear Buckyâs deep inhale as the fabric pools at your feet.
âCome here.â
Your feet are quick to obey the order.
The candlelight flickers over his face, allowing you to take in his appearance.
He looks much the same as he left, beard full but tamed and brown hair reaching his shoulders. Heâs a little dirty, but you canât complain since you are too.
Bucky grabs your waist as soon as youâre within reach and pulls you down onto his lap, your legs either side of his as your naked breasts press into his shirt.
His hands move to grip your bottom roughly, drawing another gasp from you.
Grazing your lips with his own, Bucky whispers âIâve missed you.â
Youâre not given a chance to return the sentiment as his mouth captures yours.
The kiss is ravenous as Bucky takes everything he wants - everything he needs, from you. All you can do is hold onto him, your hands wrapped around his thick biceps as you let him take.
Both of you are panting for air when he eventually pulls away, his right hand gliding up your back to cradle the base of your neck and urge your head backwards, exposing your throat to him.
Running his nose under your jaw, all the way down to your collarbone, Bucky groans in satisfaction against your skin. âSmell sâgood.â
It was merely coincidence that you had been using your lavender oil more often since his comment on the porch.
You feel him bite the place where your neck and shoulder meet - as if in claim, before licking over the spot, making you moan.
Bucky nips and sucks along your collarbone, dipping lower until he tugs one of your nipples between his teeth.
You donât even realise youâve started rocking against his hard length under you until both his hands seize your hips, halting your movements.
Raising his head, Bucky taunts âDesperate for me darlinâ? Whereâd my sweet, shy girl go?â
Why those words make you whine at him you have no idea, but Bucky loves it.
Smirking, he slowly rocks you up and down on his length and hums âMaybe my girlâs not so good, huh?â
You moan as he moves you faster, pressing you down to rub harder against his erect cock straining beneath his trousers. Your hands tighten around his biceps as your head drops to his shoulder.
âThatâs alright darlinâ, âcos I plan on doinâ bad, bad things to you.â Bucky murmurs in your ear, beard scratching as your sensitive skin.
His words added with the light press of his thumb on your clit undoes you, making you cry out his name.
If it didnât feel so good, youâd be embarrassed at your quick climax.
Growling, Bucky stands while youâre still reeling in pleasure and carries you to the bed, manoeuvring your compliant body until youâre on your knees, face down.
Heâs never had you like this before.
The sound of Bucky removing his belt has your hands gripping the sheets.
âCanât wait any longer darlinâ.â He grunts, shoving his trousers to the floor before grabbing your hips. âBeen thinkinâ âbout this little pussy every day, dyinâ to feel it wrapped âround me again.â
Thatâs all the warning you get before Bucky pushes in, the intrusion tearing a shout from you, followed by a drawn out moan.
You feel so full. You didnât realise how much you missed this.
How badly youâve been craving it.
âThatâs it.â He purrs, your walls clenching around him. âFuck.â
Pulling out until just the tip remains, Bucky surges back in.
You whine again, clawing at the sheets beneath you.
âOh, you are a good girl, arenât ya darlinâ?â Bucky thrusts into you, pitching your whole body forward as he bends down and husks in your ear, ââCos youâre gonna take everythinâ I give ya.â
The way heâs talking is hurtling you towards the edge again.
You donât respond - you canât, but Buckyâs not looking for a response.
Straightening, he begins pounding into you relentlessly. You swear the bed is going to give out with how it creaks as the frame bangs into the wall, competing with the sounds coming from you.
When Buckyâs large, rough hand trails under your body to cup your sex, his fingers sliding up until they reach your bud, you almost scream.
Chuckling out a groan, he states âYouâre squeezinâ the life outta me sweet girl.â
Buckyâs fingers are as unforgiving as his cock as they rub tight circles on your clit, bringing you to that point.
âCome.â He growls, leaning over you to wrap his large body around yours as his fingers bully your bud. âNow.â
Youâre helpless to his demand.
âJames!â You squeal, falling limp as your release slams into you.
Moaning deeply, Bucky pulls out of your spasming centre and flips you onto your back. Tugging his cock, he spills onto your stomach, cursing your name.
Collapsing forward, Bucky catches himself on his left elbow, hovering above you.
Youâre breathless, eyes fluttering as he lowers to kiss your lips.
It starts out tender but soon turns into something lustful as you feel Bucky growing hard against your stomach. Your resulting whimper breaks the kiss.
âKeep those eyes open sweet girl,â He whispers. âIâm not done with you yet.â
â·â·â·â· THE NEXT DAY â·â·â·â·
You wake wrapped in Buckyâs arms and a smile instantly spreads across your face. Lifting your head from where it rests on his shoulder, your smile widens when you realise his eyes are still closed.
Bucky always woke before you, yet here he is, fast asleep.
He looks different. Peaceful.
For a while you just watch him, listening to his steady breathing as you feel his chest rise and fall under your right palm.
Eventually you canât resist the urge to brush his hair back from his face, which leads your fingertips to dance over his beard, down his nose, and over his mouth.
Your forefinger traces across his bottom lip before itâs suddenly snagged between his teeth, making you gasp then laugh.
Buckyâs eyes blink open and lock onto yours as he releases your finger.
âMorning,â You smile softly.
âMorninâ darlinâ.â His raspy voice after waking up is a sound youâll never tire of. âWhat you doinâ up so early?â
Huffing at his teasing words, you sit up and move until youâre straddling his firm stomach, both your hands pressed against his chest.
âItâs not that early,â You glare playfully.
Cupping your hips, Bucky smirks âI just know how much my girl likes her sleep.â
My girl.
Lowering until your nose bumps his, you respond âI like spending time with you more.â
Bucky gives a quiet groan, his hands gliding up to cup your face and pull you down further until your mouths connect. Itâs a slow kiss, every stroke of his tongue deliberate as he savours the taste of you.
He doesnât let you go far when you break away for air, his nose prodding yours as he whispers âI have to go.â
âYou just got back.â You canât help but protest, eyebrows furrowing.
Bucky sighs, âI know darlinâ.â
Rolling the two of you over so he can hover above you instead, Buckyâs forearms settle on either side of your head as he rests his forehead against yours.
âI got a... job to do,â Bucky explains vaguely. âBut, when I come back itâll be for a good while.â
You mull his words over for a moment before whispering âPromise?â
âPromise.â
He angles his face lower to place light kisses over your cheeks and down your neck where he then rubs his beard, well aware of how much it tickles your sensitive skin.
Once you have tears in your eyes and are stuttering for him to stop between giggles he finally relents, raising his head to meet your gaze.
The grin on his lips is much too boyish to belong to the man who spoke such sordid things to you last night.
âHow âbout I get breakfast started?â Bucky suggests.
Itâs at that moment, in the warmth and safety of your bed - of Bucky, in the little world youâve started to create together that you realise you love him.
That you have for quite some time.
Itâs in that moment, with his dark blue eyes shining down at you, his rough hands tenderly caressing your skin, and the lingering ache in your body from last night that you almost tell him.
Fortunately, common sense rears its head, snatching the words from you before they can tumble out and ruin everything.
You know he cares for you - maybe even adores you, but you donât think men like Bucky Barnes can do love.
So instead you say âThat sounds great.â
Youâll take everything you can from him before he leaves, knowing his absence will be even more palpable this time around with your realisation, and youâll wait patiently until he comes back and gives you more.
â·â·â·â· 2 WEEKS LATER â·â·â·â·
Securing Chesterâs reins around a post outside the general store, you give his chest a loving rub as he drinks from the water trough.
Moving around him to retrieve some money from the satchel on your saddle, the sound of running feet grabs your attention.
You turn in time to see a group of young boys race past, rushing towards the town centre.
âHurry up or weâll miss it!â One of the boys shouts back to his slower friends.
Frowning, you look around and notice that quite a few people are heading in the same direction.
Closing your satchel with the money still inside, you walk up the two steps leading to the general storeâs small porch, intent on asking Billy what all the fuss is about.
A piece of paper stuck to the front door informs you heâs not inside. The messily written âbe back soonâ only fuels your curiosity.
Striding back down the steps, you join the people making their way to the town centre.
Itâs an underwhelming reveal.
Your eyes roll when you round the final corner and see that the gallows have been erected.
A hanging, of course.
What else drew such a crowd?
Certainly not one to enjoy such a gruesome sight, you turn around and head back the way you came. Youâll simply wait with Chester until Billy gets back.
You take four steps before stopping.
The whole town seems to be gathering - if not more. Only someone with a name important enough to know would be worth so much attention.
Donât be stupid.
Fear turns your blood cold.
It canât be him.
Youâre thinking foolishly, you know that.
In what world did law enforcement ever actually catch a man like Bucky Barnes?
The notion was comical.
However, your need for reassurance has you spinning back around and trekking closer. You weave your way through the growing crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the criminal yet to be led up to the high platform of the gallows.
After a few minutes youâve only managed to make it halfway through the throng of spectators, the rough shoves of uncaring men hindering your progress.
Standing on the tips of your toes, you peer around the figures in front of you, looking to the left corner of the gallows where you know the stairs that lead up to the platform start.
Youâre not sure if itâs just a trick of your overactive imagination, but for a split second you swear you catch sight of familiar brown hair and your breath lodges in your throat.
No. It canât be. It canât.
The next few moments seem to occur in slow motion.
A brief gap in the crowd gives you a perfect, straight line of vision to the brown haired man. The reveal of his face almost brings you to your knees.
No. No, no, no -
Youâre frozen in denial at who you see.
James.
His hands are tied behind his back and two deputies flank him, ready to escort him up the stairs.
Your direct line of sight is broken by the crowd, causing everything to speed up as you finally kick into motion.
Like a desperate woman - because you are, you push through the crowd, ignoring the protests and elbows you receive. You donât stop until youâve reached the front.
Ducking around the unsuspecting deputy stationed to keep the mob at bay, you bolt to Bucky, sliding to a standstill in front of him, your shoes touching his boots.
âDarlinâ,â Bucky speaks like the windâs just been knocked out of him, his blue eyes wide.
âJames what are you - theyâre -â
You canât speak. You canât breathe.
This was Bucky Barnes, the famous outlaw. He didnât get caught and he certainly didnât die.
âYou promised.â You gasp out, eyes itching with tears âYou -â
âIâm so sorry baby.â Buckyâs voice strains in his effort to speak softly and you hate it.
As much as you hate that you canât give a second thought to his sweetest term of endearment for you yet.
âDonât -â
Regaining their wits, the deputies around you spring into action, one of them grabbing your arms from behind and pulling you backwards.
âHey!â
âDonât touch her!â Bucky spits vehemently, rearing forward only to be tugged back by the deputies either side of him.
Throwing your right heel back, you catch the deputy in his shin, forcing him to let go. You lunge at Bucky, clinging to the front of his shirt like itâs your only lifeline.
âPlease James,â You plead, as if he has any say in this. âI love you, please.â
You shouldâve told him. You shouldâve told him that morning.
âListen to me baby,â Bucky implores, his deep voice gentle like you know it can be with you - not soft. âI want you to know how much I love you, that youâve given a meaninâ to my life that I had no right to expect, that no one can ever take from me.â
âJames.â You choke out, throat tight with the tears that stream down your face.
He loves me. He loves me.
The beautiful declaration should fill you with happiness, not anguish.
âYouâre the best damn thing that ever happened to me.â Bucky declares, lips curling as his blue eyes admire you.
When the deputy grabs hold of you this time thereâs no chance of you breaking out of his tight hold even if you had the strength to try - which you donât.
Your body is limp, weak, and shattered as youâre dragged away from the only man youâve ever loved. The only man youâll ever love.
âItâs alright darlinâ,â Bucky insists over his shoulder as heâs pushed up the stairs, his gaze unwavering. âYouâll be okay, I promise.â
Youâre shoved into the crowd - which parts from you in disgust, while you watch Bucky ascend to the top of the platform, feeling anything but okay.
They stand him beside the noose and your legs tremble as you subconsciously start walking backwards through the horde of onlookers - as if you can escape whatâs about to happen next.
âBucky Barnes...â A big, well dressed man addresses him before reading out his sentence.
Theyâre going to kill him.
Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth as the reality sinks in.
Heâs going to die.
Only watching you - always watching you, Buckyâs mouth opens.
You canât hear what he says, but you make out the words.
âDonât watch.â
âPlease.â
The pain suddenly burns you and your shoulders shake from the force of your tears.
Gasping in a deep, shuddering breath, you look at him one last time before closing your eyes, forcing yourself to honour his final request.
Why? Why does death have to take him from me too?
Youâre barely aware of anything other than the affliction raging inside you, so you donât know how you even hear it over the jeering crowd, but you do - a low whistle.
It shouldnât mean anything to you, but something urges you to open your eyes.
Blinking through your tears, you turn your head to the right - where the sound had been loudest, and zero in on a man who towers over most of the spectators.
A black bandana covers the lower half of his face, but heâs looking at you, his bright blue eyes visible as he winks.
Steve.
Shifting his gaze from you to Bucky, he whistles again, this time a two tone note thatâs loud and piercing.
All around you, people scattered within the crowd fling back ponchos to reveal guns that they fire up at the sky or towards the gallows, sending the crowd screaming and running as all hell breaks loose.
me fr
love love love this!!!!! :)
hi hi hi!!! i saw that you were open to shadow and bone requests and i was wondering if youâd be willing to write a nikolai lantsov imagine? just imagine princess!reader being forced into an arranged marriage with the second son of the king of ravka, and instead of going through with it she runs away. she then stumbles upon a particularly charming privateer who just so manages to win over her heartâŠâŠ
Enchanted
Request: hi hi hi!!! i saw that you were open to shadow and bone requests and i was wondering if youâd be willing to write a nikolai lantsov imagine? just imagine princess!reader being forced into an arranged marriage with the second son of the king of ravka, and instead of going through with it she runs away. she then stumbles upon a particularly charming privateer who just so manages to win over her heartâŠ
and: btw I saw your post about sab season 2 and i would like to request something with nikolai. i dont really have any ideas but i love that blonde boy so anything that you'll write with him is going to make me happy- but if its angst please im begging for a happy ending im already depressed because im reading rules of wolves
and: omg omg omg enchanted x nikolai sounds so perfect đ literally written for him
Hi! I absolutely adore these requests, thank you for sending them in. And sorry for the long wait, Iâve been a bit busy. And please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing for Nikolai, this is only my second time. Also, this request was combined with two others, I hope thatâs alright, and sorry for anyone whoâs request was altered a little bit to fit this story. Iâm happy to accept another request if you donât like this one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!Â
(Warnings: arranged marriage, swearing, very very brief angst, very vague suggestive content, drinking, let me know if i missed anything)
â
You had nearly begged on your knees when you found out you were to be wed, pleading with your parentsâ advisors.Â
You were no fool. You knew that one day youâd have to marry, and you were prepared to do your duty. A Princess isnât awarded the luxury of a choice, and you knew any match that was made probably wouldnât be from a place of love. But you never thought your parents would be prepared to ship you off to a man none of you had ever even laid eyes on, and thatâs including the advisors.
A second son, and a rumored bastard at that. It was all happening too fast, and you werenât having an easy time processing it.Â
âYou canât send me! We already have an alliance with Ravka, why send me still?â
One of the men had stood, trying to ease you. âYou must go, Princess. We may have an alliance, but our forces need to be strengthened. Prince Vasily is already spoken for. Marrying you to Prince Nikolai is the fastest way.â
âI am told he is charming, if it is any consolation,â another man said, though his voice was firmer. âIt is time, Princess, for you to do your duty. You will marry.â
You finally relented, your fate beginning to set in. âThatâs it, then. When will I be expected to leave?â
There was a moment of silence, and an awkward shuffling of feet as the advisors stood. And then one of the men spoke, sending dread running through you like ice in your veins.Â
âYour arrival is set for the end of the week. The King and Queen are expecting you.â
â
The journey passed far quicker than you had anticipated. A trip like that should have been grueling, yet each moment felt more fleeting than the last. By the time you arrived on Ravkan soil, you would practically be theirs. Upon your arrival, you were escorted to the Great Hall to meet the King and Queen.Â
âMoi tsar,â you curtsied, keeping your eyes low. âMoi tsaritsa. It is an honor.â
The words tasted sour on your tongue, but you spoke them anyway. The King and Queen were not known to be the kindest of people, and youâd rather spend your time in a foreign country on the good side of the sovereign.Â
âPrincess,â the King greeted as he stood, his eyes racking your body. âYou are as beautiful as they say. My son will be pleased. Unfortunately, your arrival has preceded his. He attended a meeting with our generals, and is set to arrive in a few days. The wedding will be in a fortnight. Until then, please enjoy our hospitality. I look forward to this new found alliance between our great countries.â
âAs do I,â you said, forcing a smile.Â
â
As the days passed, you grew more uneasy. The weight of your duties were beginning to drag you down, and you didnât know if you could bear the burden any longer.Â
Nikolai had yet to return to court, but with his inevitable arrival looming, it became harder to face each day. You were practically alone in the castle, having yet to make any friends. And you doubted the arrival of a Princeâthe subject of scandalous rumorsâwould do anything to lessen the loneliness and fear you felt every night.Â
One evening, the pressure became too great.
Despite your duties, and the anger you knew both countries would feel towards you, you fled. It was a rash decision, and a stupid one at that. But it was the only option that could give you your freedom, so you took it.
It led you all the way down to the harbor, which you briskly made your way to with little more than the clothes on your back.
Your window of opportunity was closing, and you took it. In mere hours, someone would notice you were missing from your room. Guards would be sent all throughout the palace, and theyâd track you down if you werenât quick enough. One way or another, you would marry the second Prince of Ravka. Youâd be forced to. And although the thought of being alone in an open country you knew next to nothing about terrified you, it was less terrifying than the thought of being trapped in that castle forever.Â
So you went. Fled, more accurately. All the way to the harbor, in nothing but a dress and cloak, with a bag of coins hidden in your skirts.Â
As you approached the harbor, the shout of guards could be heard in the distance. âSpread out! She cannot have gone far.â
The Kingsguard.
You felt your chest tighten as you quickened your pace, pulling your hood over your head. You rushed as inconspicuously as you could, clambering to get as far from the palace as possible. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your wrist.Â
âWhatâs the rush for, My Lady? Youâre going to hurt yourself running in those shoes,â the woman said, her brows furrowing.
You stopped in your tracks to take her in, realizing she was standing next to a much larger man. She had axes sheathed at her waist, and a confused but intrigued grin.Â
âPlease, excuse meââ You stuttered out, trying to pull away.
âThereâs no need to be afraid,â the man said, in a tone much gentler than his appearance. âWe mean you no harm. What are you running from?â
âI need to get away from here, and fast,â you pleaded, deciding to trust these people who stopped you.Â
âThat wasnât an answer to our question,â the woman said, easing her grip.Â
You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to look over your shoulder before turning back. âPlease, Iâll pay you whatever you want. Just let me go. I have to get out of here, and quickly.â
The woman shared a glance with the man, and for a minute, you were beginning to think you had been found out. They somehow recognized you, and would know that the castle guards were looking for you. If that was true, the pair didnât show it, looking back at you.Â
âWe have a ship,â the man finally said, gesturing behind him. âAnd a captain. A name youâd perhaps recognize. Sturmhond.â
Sturmhond, you thought to yourself. The richest pirate on the True Sea? What was he doing in a port in Ravka? You shook your head, having no time for questions.Â
âWould he grant me safe passage? I can pay, I have the means. Please, I need to know if this is my only option of getting out of here. I havenât done anything illegal, I promise. I just need to go.â
The woman laughed, her relaxed disposition beginning to ease you. âIllegal would have been more fun. Donât worry, Princess. Weâll take you to our captain. Youâll be safe with us.â
Your eyes widened, and you stepped back to retreat, when the man raised his hands in surrender.Â
âWe mean you no harm, Princess. Clearly, youâre in trouble, and we have the means to get you away from the palace.â
âTrust me,â the woman said, offering you her hand. âWe have no wish to return to the palace.. Iâm sure our captain isnât too keen, either.â
You looked between the ship and back at the castle uneasily, when you heard another shout coming from the guards marching through the village. You turned towards the man and woman, who you just realized looked very similar. Siblings, perhaps, who had just gotten back from a journey at sea.
âSturmhond is quite the character, but heâs a good man. You have my word,â the man said.Â
âAlright,â you said, making your decision as you took the womanâs hand. âIâll go. Thank you, uhâŠâ
You trailed off, making the man smile. He led you towards a nearby ship, helping you climb your way onto it.Â
âIâm Tolya, and thatâs my sister Tamar. Weâre part of Sturmhondâs crew. Come along, heâll want to meet you.â
They quickly led you aboard a ship, ushering the crew to cast off. The crew looked around with confused faces, but listened anyway. As the ship slowly left the harbor, you were led downstairs to the cabins below.Â
âCaptain,â Tamar called, knocking on the first doorway below deck, before opening the door herself.Â
âDo you want to tell me why my ship is moving away from the dock?â Sturmhond asked without turning around, shuffling through his cabin as he pulled on his coat.Â
You cleared your throat. âThat would be because of me, I think.â
Sturmhond turned around at the sound of your voice, his eyes widening as he took you in. âI donât believe it. Good evening, Princess. I do hope you are well. Tamar and Tolya have treated you kindly, I expect?â
You shrunk under his gaze, letting out a nervous chuckle. âIs my title that easy to spot? Youâre the second to figure it out, is it something Iâm doing?â
âTamar has a keen eye,â Sturmond shrugged, grinning. âBut youâre also wearing an evening gown fit for court, and the jewels around your neck could buy a small country. Those things arenât exactly subtle, darling. Even with that cloak.â
You nodded, still nervous but relaxing with his calm demeanor. âI was told you could grant me passage away from the palace? I can pay, I donât expect you to do this out of the kindness of your heart. But seeing as weâve already left the harbor, I donât think you have any other option but to take me with you. Unless you intend on throwing me overboard into the bay, although Iâll thank you kindly not to do that.â
âIn that dress? Youâd sink to the bottom, darling. Thereâs no need to worry, Princess. Youâll stay dry on deck, that I can assure you,â he chuckled, motioning for you to sit.Â
âWeâll inform the crew our trip has been extended,â Tamar announced, pulling Tolya behind her to leave the cabin.Â
You sat in the chair on the other side of Sturmhondâs desk, and he sat across from you. He offered you a kind smile, one that surprised you. You had heard plenty about the infamous privateer. You hadnât expected him to be this young and handsome. His reputation matched that of an old tycoon, not of what appeared to be an ex soldier. He looked at you with curiosity, motioning for you to speak.Â
âSo, would you like to explain to me why my ship is sailing back out to sea? Not that Iâm upset or anything, I was dreading my return to Ravka myself. But as I understand it, you were asked to come to Ravka to strengthen a political allianceââ
âAnd how would you know about that?â You interrupted, raising a brow.Â
He smiled, shrugging. âI have my ways. It pays to know lots of things about lots of things. Including which Princesses are being married off to far away royalty.â
âDo you know him?â You asked, your voice a little unstable. âThe Prince, I mean. Nikolai. I could hardly find anyone who knew him, and any knowledge of him was limited. I went into this alliance blind, thanks to my parents and advisors.â
Sturmhondâs grin widened as he nodded. âI do know him, yes. We were briefly acquainted some time ago.â
âAnd?â
âHeâs alright,â Sturmhond laughed, leaning back in his seat. âDashingly handsome. A bit cocky for my taste, perhaps a little spoiled, but what royalty isnât, right? No offense.â
You smiled, shaking your head. âNone taken.â
âI suppose youâre lucky in that youâre set to marry him, and not the Crown Prince. Vasily isâhow should I put thisâwellâŠâ
âA bastard?â You finished, making Sturmhond chuckle, nodding.Â
âHe is, yes. Nikolai is, in another manner of speaking, the same as well. Is that why youâre running? You donât want to risk your reputation on a second son who may not even be the second son?â
Sturmhond looked at you through curious eyes, although there was a little apprehension in them. A little vulnerability that you didnât quite know what to make of. You shook your head, inadvertently easing his thoughts.Â
âItâs just rumors, Sturmhond. Whether there is any truth to them, I donât know, and I donât care. History records names, not blood. A true Lantsov or not, it doesnât matter to me. Itâs not Nikolaiâs fault who his true parents are, and he shouldnât have to bear the consequences of their actions. All that matters to my parents is what he means for my country. His reputation doesnât affect that.â
âAnd what matters to you?â Sturmhond asked, his eyes softening. âYour secrets are safe with me, and I promise to not throw you overboard for whatever your answers are. Why are you running, Princess?â
You sat in silence for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. Sturmhond politely waisted for you to start, nodding encouragingly for you to speak.Â
You fiddled with your hands in your lap nervously. âNikolaiâs blood doesnât matter to me, truly. All that really matters is that he has a kind heart, and he makes living at Ravkan court for the rest of my life more bearable.âÂ
Sturmhond nodded as he listened intently. You continued.
âFrom what I hear, heâs a perfectly good man. Compared to my list of options, he was probably the best I could have hoped for.â
âWas? Or is? Do you intend on running forever? Seems like a waste of time in what is already a fleeting existence, Princess,â he said quietly.Â
âI know,â you nodded, growing frustrated. âI donât know why I did it. I just thought about being alone at court for the rest of my life, and even the promise of a semi decent Prince wasnât enough to ease my fears. I just wanted control over my own life for once, you know? My own freedom. It was a rash decision, I admit. But it seems to be working well in my favor so far.â
Sturmhond nodded, standing up from his desk to pour two glasses of whiskey. You downed yours the second he placed it in front of you, deciding it was better to let the second one sit when he refilled your glass.
âAnd Nikolai? What are his thoughts on the matter?â
You shrugged, fiddling with the glass. âI donât know. He hasnât been at court since I arrived. I have yet to meet him. Although, once he hears of me running, Iâm sure any first impressions he could have had of me are ruined.â
âI donât know about that.â
You raised a brow, coaxing him to continue. âReally? Why is that?â
âFrom what I hear, Nikolai isnât really one for court, either,â he started, shrugging. âHe runs when he gets the chance, too. Why do you think heâs away from court so often?â
You pondered the thought for a minute. âI donât know. I always assumed his duties took him elsewhere. Heâs not the Crown Prince, so he doesnât need to remain in the palace. He serves in the First Army, doesnât he?â
Sturmhond nodded, grinning. âHe does. Or, to put it more accurately, he did. I think he just loiters around neighboring countries until his Mother forces him to come home and make an appearance now.â
You chuckled, letting out a deep sigh. âIsnât that a treat? Coming home for the first time in months, only to find out your bride to be has run away.â
âWith a face like that, I doubt heâll care much about anything once he sees you.âÂ
You felt the heat creep to your cheeks at his words, setting your eyes to your lap to avoid Sturmhondâs heavy gaze. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he breathed out a laugh.Â
âBesides, Iâm told the Prince isnât expected back at court for a few more days. Plenty of time for you to decide whether or not you want me to turn this ship around. Who would I be to deny a Princess?â
You smiled, your voice soft. âAnd if I donât want to turn around?â
âWell, youâre paying me. I donât really care either way, Iâll take you anywhere you want to go,â he said, grinning as he topped your glass off. âBut just between you and me, Iâd do it for free. Anything for a pretty face like that. Just donât go telling everyone I said that, I have a reputation to maintain.â
You laughed, nodding. âDonât worry. Your secret is safe with me.â
â
You spent the next few days on the ship, feeling more and more at ease the further you made it from Ravkan shores.Â
At night, you longed for home.Â
Not for you parents, or any of their advisors. But for your own bedânot on a constantly rocking shipâand the familiar trill of the birds outside your window on dewy mornings. For the library in the East Wing people seemed to forget was even there, and the soup the cooks would make when a chill was in the air. For the gardens midmorning where you could escape to when you wanted to avoid all the guards constantly watching you.Â
Sturmhond did a good job at keeping you distracted from saddening thoughts, though. It was sweet of him, really. Making sure you had someone with you during the day, taking all his meals with you in the evening.Â
Your time on the ship was the most relaxed you had been in a long time, actually, which you attributed to him.Â
Sturmhond had quite the representation amongst high societyâor any society, reallyâand he certainly met your expectations. He was charming, and attractive. Clever and ambitious, like everyone said he was.Â
You hadnât expected him to be as attentive as he is, however. He seemed to really enjoy a new guest on the ship, one that could keep up with his banter. He didnât make you feel like a burden like your parents so often did, actually including you in his daily routine.Â
Tolya and Tamar were great, too. Kind, and funny. Fiercely loyal and protective, both of their captain and of each other. They were the kind of friends you hoped to make during your time in Ravka.Â
So far, it was off to a good start.Â
As the days moved on, you found yourself growing closer to Sturmhond. You tried to stop yourself in the beginning. Despite not wanting it for yourself, you were engaged to Nikolai. Falling for another man wasnât exactly a good thing for your future
But that damned smile.
His ridiculously attractive smile, and his stupid mop of hair that had only gotten longer from his time at sea. The infuriating way heâd look at you and make you want to shrink away from his gaze, but you could never bring yourself to look away. The obnoxious green emerald ring he wore that could probably buy a small village.
He had charmed you, despite your reservations, and you were practically head over heels. It scared the absolute shit out of you.Â
Tamar had of course noticed already, confronting you about it one night after dinner. She joined you on deck, sitting next to you on a crate as you watched the stars twinkle in the sky. They were so visible out at sea, away from all the lights and clutter of the cities.Â
âYouâre not hiding anything from me, you know,â she smirked, sneaking your flask away to take a few sips from it.Â
You feigned innocence, shaking your head. âI donât know what youâre talking about, Tamar.â
âCome on, darling. Letâs skip the bluffingâŠyou like him. Itâs so obvious.â
âSaints, I hope not,â you groaned, scrunching your nose up at the thought of Sturmhond finding out.Â
Tamar grinned at your embarrassment, chuckling. âDonât worry. I may not swing that way, but I know the look when I see it. Heâs all puppy dog eyes and desperate looks of longing when he sees you. Itâs gross, really. I can actually hear his heart skip a beat when he sees you. He likes you, too. Iâd stake money on it.â
You swallowed down your excitement, trying to think rationally. âDonât even joke about that, itâs not funny.â
âIâm serious! Youâre a catch, Princess. He may be my captain, but heâd be a fool not to want you.â
âThatâs sweet of you to say, but we can stop there,â you nervously chuckled. âWe donât need this going to my head. Iâll do something stupid like staying on this boat forever.â
She grinned, nudging your shoulder with hers. âWould that be so bad?â
â
The next few days, you couldnât get Tamarâs words out of your head. You went on with your routine with Sturmhond as usual, trying not to put much thought into it.Â
Your feelings for him were true, thatâs for sure.Â
And when youâd catch him looking at you from across the deck, youâd swear by the look in his eye that he felt something for you, too. What it was, exactly, you didnât know.Â
But it was something.Â
On your last evening before you had to make a decision about where you wanted to go, you skipped dinner. You couldnât bring yourself to go along with your usual banter with Sturmhond, beginning to feel guilty about just how close and comfortable youâd gotten with him.Â
You still had a duty to your country and your family, which meant at least a little to you. Plus, it wasnât fair to make a promise to Prince Nikolai, only to leave him hanging when he returned to Ravka.Â
You were leaning against the deck railing, watching the way the moonlight bounced over the still waters. So lost in thought, you almost didnât register Sturmhondâs approaching footsteps.Â
âA bit chilly for stargazing, isnât it?â He asked, coming to stand next to you.Â
You turned to see him, smiling when you noticed he was wearing his signature blue coat. You couldnât remember a time since you met that he wasnât dressed to the nines, no matter what time of day it was.Â
âYou know, for a pirate, you donât really look like one.âÂ
He grinned, gently correcting you. âA privateer, darling, not a pirate. Thereâs a difference, I assure you.â
âAh, a privateer. How could I have forgotten?â You chuckled, hugging yourself in an effort to shield your arms from the biting cold. âBut seriously. The emerald on your finger is the size of a walnut, and that coat is fit for royalty. I find it hard to believe a privateer does well enough to afford things as nice as those.â
âMaybe Iâm just good at my job,â he retorted, that signature smirk on his face.
It was enough to stir butterflies in your stomach, making you turn to look back out at the water. His gaze lingered on you a moment, and you could feel the heat creeping up to your cheeks under the weight of his stare.Â
âYouâre cold,â he observed, breaking the silence.
âIâm fine,â you tried to say, but Sturmhond interrupted you.
âI can practically hear your teeth chattering,â he laughed, shrugging his coat from his shoulders. âHere. Seeing as my coat is fit for royalty, as you say, I think itâll suit you better.â
âSturmhondââ
âPrincess,â he mirrored, smirking when you relented, letting him place it around your shoulders.Â
âThank you,â you said softly.
You turned away from the water to face him, leaning back against the bannister. His eyes flitted up and down your form at his coat wrapped around shoulders, before his eyes met yours. He took a seat on the crate behind him, leaning back and settling into the post next to him. It was quiet a moment before he finally spoke.
âYou werenât in your cabin at dinner. Where have you been?â
You sighed, fiddling with the sleeve of his coat. âThinking.â
âThinking? About what?â
âAbout my future,â you said shakily, shoulders slumping. âBoth the imminent one, and the one to follow based on what I decide tonight.â
Sturmhond nodded, seemingly lost in thought. âIâve been thinking about that, too, if Iâm being honest.â
You raised a brow at his words. Heâd been thinking about your future? Heâd been thinking about you? The thought was both intriguing and terrifying, and you hoped the confusion on your face wasnât too apparent.
âWell, IâŠIâm sorry, what?â
âYour future directly impacts me,â he quickly corrected, suddenly steeling his face and meeting your confusion with his usual grin. âWhere you go I go, remember? You are paying me, after all.â
You tried to hide your disappointment, forcing a smile. It was a foolish hope to have, that heâd think something more of you. But it wasnât a hope you were ready to give up.Â
Not just yet, at least.Â
He seemed to notice your disappointment, brows furrowing. âHave I upset you?â
âNo,â you quickly replied, trying to brush it off with a laugh. âNo, itâs not you. Iâm just not quite sure what I should do. I know you need an answer, and Ravka needs an answer, butâŠI donât have one yet.â
âWhy?âÂ
You shook your head, sighing in frustration. âEarlier, I had more than halfway made up my mind. I value my freedom, but I think I value my dignity more. I donât think I could go anywhere and face anyone, knowing Iâve turned my back on my duties. It may have not been a promise I made for myself personally, but it is a promise I had every intention of keeping.â
âThen whatâs stopping you?â He asked, a genuine look of concern on his face.
His eyes softened on you as your face fell, and you turned away from him as you felt heat creep up to your cheeks. You could hear him stand and approach you, but you couldnât bring yourself to look at him.Â
âPrincess?â He asked, only worsening your embarrassment.Â
He spoke again, finally getting you to acknowledge him. âYouâre worrying me, darling. Surely it cannot be that bad.â
âBut it is,â you groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stave off the tears you could feel brewing.Â
âTry me,â he said gently, carefully placing a hand on your arm. âYou can tell me the truth. Whatâs stopping you from returning to Ravka?â
You could feel his touch even through the coat, which struck you like a punch to the gut when you remembered it was, in fact, his coat you were wearing. And to make it worse, that damned grin was on his face as he spoke with such a genuine kindness in his voice that it made you want to cry.Â
You finally met his eyes, taking a sharp breath. Shit, you thought to yourself. You were really going to admit it. He eagerly awaited your response, which you finally managed to utter.Â
âYou.â
He sucked in a breath, withdrawing his hand. He looked up at the sky for a moment, before taking another breath and turning back to you.Â
âMe?â He asked.Â
âYou,â you said again, exasperatedly laughing. âYou, and your ridiculous clothes, and your infuriating charm, and your kindness and ambitionâŠthat damned smile.âÂ
Sturmhondâs cheeks flushed, and he took a step back, although he was grinning like a fool. He couldnât stop himself if he tried. You didnât dare speak, waiting for him to say something. After an agonizing moment of silence, he leaned against the bannister, letting out a chuckle.
âWhat?â You forced yourself to ask, preparing yourself for his answer.Â
âSaints, PrincessâŠyouâve gone and done it now.â
You shook your head, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. âWhat?â
âYouâve managed to outdo me. On my own ship. Quite the feat, Iâll give you that,â he laughed, still grinning.Â
You narrowed your eyes, still shaking your head. âSturmhond, I donât have a fucking clue what youâre saying to me right now. Will you do the honor of enlightening me, or are you going to stand there grinning at me all night?â
âYou like my grin,â he mused, making you flush.
He spoke again, saving you from your embarrassment. âAnd it just so happens that I like yours, too. I like all of you. Very much so indeed, Princess.â
Your heart lurched into your throat at his words, and you had to grab ahold of the bannister behind you to keep yourself steady. He placed his hand over top of yours, his palm warming yours.Â
âI cannot believe you beat me to the punch. Itâs rude to upstage a captain on his own ship. Youâre lucky youâre royalty. Iâll allow it just this once.â
You had just now calmed your breathing, beginning to take in the weight of his words, and what it meant for you both. âSturmhond, Iââ
âI have a confession to make,â he suddenly said in a very serious tone, startling you. âI donât mean to interrupt you, but I must tell you something before either of us share something we canât take back.â
âAlrightâŠâ You said uneasily.Â
Carefully, he took your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. You let him hold it, waiting for him to speak. Absentmindedly, you comfortingly ran your thumb along the back of his hand, silently reassuring him.Â
âMy name isnât Sturmhond,â he finally said, the nerves in his voice the worst you had ever heard them.Â
Trying not to jump to any hasty conclusions, you nodded, squeezing his hand once more. âAlrightâŠif it isnât Sturmhond, then what is it?â
âWell, technically it is, but it also isnât. Itâs just a nicknameââ He rambled, and you placed your other hand on top of his to stop him.Â
âI gathered that much. What else are you trying to tell me? Go on, you can say it.â
He took a deep breath, his voice soft. âItâs true that people call me Sturmhond, but Iâm much better known for my birth nameâŠNikolai. Nikolai Lantsov.â
The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. You tried not to flinch in his grasp, but you knew he could feel you stiffen. You cleared your throat, feeling your voice begin to grow hoarse
âNikolai LantsovâŠas in Prince Nikolai Lantsov, second son of the Ravkan throne? Moi tsarevich,â you croaked out, attempting to curtsy.Â
âPlease,â Nikolai said, holding both your hands in his to keep you from bowing. âThere is no need for such formalities, darling. If anything, I should be the one bowing to you.â
You stood up straight, shaking your head. âWeâre long past that, donât you think?âÂ
He chuckled, nodding. âI suppose so.â
The reality of your situation began to set in, and you couldnât stop yourself from chuckling along with him. He smiled at the sound, raising a brow.Â
âWhat is it?â
âI suppose my little dilemma is solved then,â you said, shrugging. âI was beginning to spiral, thinking my annoying habit of not being able to contain my feelings had ruined any decision I could have made. But of courseâin your usual fashionâyouâve managed to upstage me. As is your right, it is your ship, after all. Well, I suppose thereâs no decision to make now. At least, I think there isnâtâŠright?â
Any nerves you had mustered up were immediately squashed when Nikolai brought his hands up to cup your face, running his thumbs across the tops of your cheeks.
âI wasnât lying when I said Iâd take you wherever you wanted to go. All I can hope now is that youâll allow me to join youâŠwherever that is.â
You brought a hand up to rest against his wrist. âDonât you want to go home? Youâre expected back in Ravka any day now.â
âI love my country, but Iâm in no hurry to return. Youâve told me multiple times how dreadful court was for youââ
âThat doesnât matter,â you quickly said, squeezing his wrist.Â
âOf course it does! I cannot ask you to return to a country youâll be miserable in for the rest of your days for a man you barely know.â
âItâs a good thing you arenât asking, then,â you reaffirmed, giving him a smile. âI told you. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. I said that I was afraid I would be all alone at court, and that I was afraid the man I am promised to wouldnât want a life with me.âÂ
âWhat a fool heâd have to be to not want that,â Nikolai joked, making your grin widen.
You continued to reassure him, not convinced that he was believing your words.Â
âYou say that youâll follow me wherever I go. Well, I want to go with you. Wherever that is. And I want you to go home. I may have not known you for long, but Iâve been around you long enough to know that you wonât truly be content if youâre tied to my wishes. And I know youâre too stubborn to admit that, so Iâll tell you my wishes, and I need you to believe me. I wish to be with you. I wish for you to return to wherever feels like home, and I wish for you to take me with you. If thatâs Ravka, then Ravka will be home. Court will become much more bearable with you there. And if it begins to become too much, I know a certain privateer that can whisk us away for a few days.â
He was doing it again. Smiling like an idiot. He seemed to be in disbelief at your words, this being one of the very few times in his life that he couldnât find the right words to say.Â
âI didnât mean to trick you, Princess. I should have told you who I was from the beginning.â
You shook your head. âI donât blame you, Nikolai. If I was given the chance, I wouldnât have told you who I really was, either. At least, not until I knew I could trust you. I would have done the same as you did. Itâs alright.â
âI canât believe my luck,â he grinned, taking your hand. âHow is it that my betrothed managed to stumble upon my ship the very hour I returned to Ravka?â
You shrugged. âI donât know. Iâm not one to believe in fate, and it sounds impossible.â
âNot impossibleâŠimprobable,â he corrected, smirking when you playfully narrowed your eyes up at him.Â
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnât help but smile at your turn of luck. âAre we doing this? Are you going home to Ravka?â
âAre we going home, you mean? I canât be expected to abandon my betrothed when she turns out to be the single most invigorating person Iâve ever met, now can I?â
âYou cannot,â you agreed.
A comfortable moment of silence passed between you both, and you looked down at his hands as you held them in yours. The familiar glint of green on his finger made you chuckle.Â
âI knew it, by the way,â you added, grinning. âThis coat and that ring are far too ridiculous for a privateer. Theyâre fit for royalty. Fit for a Lantsov.â
âAm I to understand that youâre not interested in a Lantsov emerald for your engagement ring?â He asked, smirking when you quickly shook your head.
You laughed, pulling his hand closer to inspect his ring. âI said nothing of the sort. I was merely observing how ridiculous it is, as well as this coat. But Iâm still wearing it, arenât I? If Iâm going to be married to a ridiculous man, I should begin preparing now, shouldnât I?â
He narrowed his eyes, playfully jutting his chin up at you. âYou just like the coat and want to keep it. Itâs alright, darling, you can admit it. We can have your own fitted for you, all you have to do is ask.â
Nikolai gripped the hem of your sleeve, tugging you closer by the arm of his coat. You let him pull you, chuckling nervously when he drew you nearer.Â
âI admit nothing, only that my future husband has a taste I will have to acquire. But Iâm sure Iâm up for the task. We have all the time in the world now, donât we?â
âWe do,â he smiled, settling his hands around your waist. âAlthough Iâll have to admit, I donât think we know each other well enough to become husband and wife.â
You tensed under his hold, and he quickly retracted his statement, shaking his head. He didnât give you enough time to truly panic, interrupting your train of thought.Â
âAnd thatâs perfectly fine, darling. Like you said, we have all the time in the world to get to know each other. I think Iâd like to take advantage of that starting now. After all, it is our last night on the ship, isnât it? At least, I assume it is. I expect youâll want to set a course for Ravka now. Unless youâd rather I get down on one knee, and make a big show of it first. I can do that, if you wish.â
âI certainly wouldnât stop you,â you chuckled, letting your hands rest on top of his as your tone shifted to a more serious note. âAre we really doing this, Nikolai? Returning to Ravka? Getting married?â
He smiled wider, a twinkle in his eye as he looked down at you. âIâve wanted you since the moment you stepped foot on my ship, the second I laid eyes on you. And Iâve wanted you more every day since. Iâm not one to believe in fate either, but I do think the Saints may have gifted you to me. Who knows what I did to deserve it, but you most definitely wonât find me questioning their will if youâre the result.â
You felt your heart swell at his words. He was right. Of all the ships in the harbor, his was the one you found yourself on. Of all the captains in Ravka, he was the one who took you in. The man you were supposed to marry, and you found yourself falling for him long before you even knew who he truly was. If that isnât fate, then what is?
âIâll take all the influence from the Saints I can get when it comes to explaining to your parents why Iâve disappeared right out from under them,â you said with a groan, leaning into him.Â
Nikolai chuckled, holding you close. âMy Mother will forget all about it when she sees my future safely secured with marriage. There is no need to worry, trust me.â
âI may not have to worry about her, but I do need to worry about Tamar,â you said, letting out a pained chuckle. âI think she staked money on our little situation.â
âShe most definitely did. I expect Tolya will be paying up when they hear the news. Who should break it to him?â
You grinned, shaking your head. âI think that duty lies with you, as my future husband. If Iâm going to have to listen to Tamarâs endless bragging about being right, then you should have to take half the burden in the form of telling Tolya. Thatâs how marriage works, isnât it? Half and half. Itâs only fair.â
It was his turn to groan now as he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, taking yours in the other.Â
âAlright, Iâll do it, but you have to accompany me. I think your presence will help soften the blow. What do you say, darling? After allâŠitâs only fair.â
You narrowed your eyes at him, squeezing his hand. âIf I must. Youâre lucky youâre pretty, Lantsov.â
âDarling, Iâm lucky for a lot more than that,â he smiled endearingly, and you couldnât help but smile back.
â A/N - Hi! This is SO long, Iâm so sorry. And Iâm so sorry for taking so long to get this out, Iâve been busy and had no time to write. But I finally forced myself to get this done, and now I have more time to write! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, let me know what you think! Thank you again for the requests :)