OKAY YOU ATE THIS UPPPPPPP I LOVE THIS SERIES SM. Like I Kid U Not Imo This Is One Of THE Best Written

me fr

me and the besties in july

i loved this sm!!!! pt 2 of tsu'tey as a dad? id love to see his relationship w baby spider :)

tsu'tey with baby fever

tsu'tey with baby fever

TSU'TEY WITH BABY FEVER

alright babes, ya got me. i got so many asks about how tsu'tey would handle catching baby fever around his little human mate, so here we are! this is kind of a continuation of tìtunu, but it can be read as a standalone either!

pairing: tsu'tey x fem!human reader

word count: 6.8k

tags: fluff, pregnancy mention & discussion, tsu'tey catches baby fever bad, he is also very whipped

masterlist

baby fever

If you were to ask Tsu’tey, he would tell you that he’s never been happier. His life is truly as close to perfect as possible. The Omaticaya have reclaimed the forest as their home, he has established himself as an experienced warrior-teacher, and he has the sweetest little mate he could have ever asked for. It doesn’t matter that you’re human; you fit in his life so perfectly, he can’t stomach the thought of anyone else taking your place.

Life is good. He can’t remember the last time he was this content with himself and his place in the clan. Things are finally getting back to normal now that the Sky People have returned to wherever they came from, and the people are high-spirited and joyful.

When Jakesully and Neytiri choose to take on the child born from Grace’s demon false-Na’vi body, Tsu’tey hardly takes notice. He spends his evenings and nights nuzzling into you and losing himself in your body, and his mornings foraging for fruit for your shared breakfast. It’s an impossibly easy lifestyle, lackadaisical and whimsical, and he enjoys every second of it.

He can’t think of a single damn thing he’d change. At least, he couldn’t. But that starts to change around the time that Neytiri and Jake welcome their first son into the world.

The clan celebrates for days. The birth was quick and easy. Tsu’tey has never seen his old friend glowing so bright, and he joins in with the feasting and the dancing and the singing along with the rest of his People. The elation is almost palpable in the air; the people are happy for their Olo’eyktan and for Neytiri, and they take the easy birth of a strong baby as a good sign for the future.

Neteyam. He is a happy child. Even as a tiny baby, he rarely cries. He just takes in the world around him with wide, curious eyes. Neytiri holds him close and watches him as though she has birthed the personification of her heart, smiling and whispering soft words and songs to him every chance she gets.  

Tsu’tey thinks it’s all very sweet, but that’s really all he thinks about it. He is pleased for his friends, but other than that he doesn’t think too much about things. He is busy, after all; much of his day is spent training the young warriors and hunters. It’s fulfilling, and he enjoys his work.

The change in his thinking doesn’t occur gradually – rather, it hits all at once, like a punch to the gut.

He returns to the village one evening to find your little form next to Neytiri and Jake by the cookfire. His hackles raise instinctively at the sight of you so damn close to Jakesully (an irrational reaction considering he is holding Kiri in his arms and Neytiri is also sitting right there, but he can’t help it), but he relaxes slightly as he approaches and sees that you’re just chatting.

When he gets close and gets a proper look at what you’re holding in your arms, he nearly trips gracelessly over his own feet. 

Even as a newborn, Neteyam is almost comically large in your arms. His pudgy limbs wave in the air, and his big golden eyes gaze up at you in fascination. You return his look right back, your expression soft and awed as you coo at him.

At your side, Neytiri watches your every move carefully. It has taken her some time to warm up to you, given that you’re a living reminder of the people who had caused so much loss and destruction of her planet, but the two of you have slowly but steadily built up a sense of trust between each other. Still, she is visibly cautious when it comes to allowing you to hold the baby.

“Tsu’tey,” Jakesully calls, waving him over with a grin. “Come here, brother. Have you eaten?”

Tsu’tey feels as though he’s been struck between the eyes. He can’t tear his attention away from the baby in your arms nor the way you’re smiling at him. When you finally look up from Neteyam only to smile softly at Tsu’tey instead, he thinks his heart might actually explode. He tries to smile back at you, but he’s sure it comes across as a pained grimace instead. 

His steps are less sure than before when he continues forward, choosing to settle down by your side. His eyes dart down to the baby in your lap and stick there. Neteyam stares back at him – it seems like neither of them quite know what to make of each other.

When he finally looks away from the baby, it’s just in time to see Neytiri and Jakesully exchanging an amused sort of look, as though they’re both trying not to laugh. You, on the other hand, look a little concerned.

“Are you alright?” You murmur, leaning into him.

You’ve rested against him like this a thousand times before, and yet Tsu’tey feels his mouth run dry. Oh, what is happening to him right now?

“Yes.” He says a little woodenly, before turning to Jakesully. “I have not eaten yet.”

Jake is still watching him with an odd little smirk, but he nods and hands him a nikt'chey filled with sweet meat and vegetables. Tsu’tey takes it with an appreciative nod, before tearing a bite out of it a little more savagely than he intended.

You’re still watching him confusedly, but you obviously decide not to ask any further questions. Instead, you look back down at Neteyam and run the pad of your index finger down the bridge of his wide nose. The baby’s mouth opens in a gummy little smile, and you smile behind your breathing mask on reflex.

“Sweet thing,” You coo at Neteyam as his little hands grab at your fingers, and Tsu’tey nearly chokes on his nikt'chey. 

It’s just a baby, he thinks frantically to himself. Pull yourself together.

He’d be lying if he said that he never thought about starting a family with you, but it wasn’t ever a real, serious thought. It was just little daydreams, idle fantasies after mating with you so soft and lovingly and leaving you full of his release. But now, seeing you holding Jakesully and Neytiri’s baby, he starts thinking of you carrying his own baby. Thinks of you plump and round, belly swollen with the baby he put in you.

His fingers squeeze the wrap a little too hard, and some of the filling spills out over his fingers. 

 Jake laughs, a stupid little snicker that has Tsu’tey scowling at him. It’s unlikely that the Olo’eyktan knows exactly what he’s been thinking, but the demon has always been perceptive – he likely has a vague idea. Tsu’tey imagines that his expression has likely been rather telling.

“Hey,” Jakesully says suddenly. “Why don’t you hold Kiri for a moment?”

Tsu’tey goes still, before checking over his shoulder in case Jake was talking to someone else.

“Ah,” He says, a little uncomfortably. “I do not think-”

“Oh, yes!” You smile, shifting your hold on Neteyam so that he’s cradled to your chest as you look up at Tsu’tey. “You haven’t met either of the babies properly yet, have you?”

“I attended their birth celebrations-”

“That’s not meeting them.” You interrupt with an eyeroll, before gesturing Jake’s way.

Tsu’tey is still protesting when Jake deposits the other baby in his arms, and he stiffens as he scrambles to support Kiri’s head as it lolls on her weak little neck. His nikt'chey falls half-eaten to the ground as he tries to hold the baby as securely as possible.

If Neteyam looked small in your hands, Kiri looks tiny in his. Something in his stomach twists. Oh. Alright then.

“Aren’t they so cute?” You whisper to him, laying your head against his bicep and grinning down at the baby in his hands.

Tsu’tey just grunts. He’s not sure that he’ll actually be capable of making words right now if he tries.

His reticence doesn’t bother you – you’re so patient with him, never minding all that much when he goes broodingly silent. You’re so good at giving him space and time to think, to come to terms with all the thoughts that spin wildly around his head. But now, the space you offer only gives him more time to consider things that he really shouldn’t be considering.

“Yeah,” Jakesully drawls, and he wraps an arm around Neytiri’s shoulders before pressing a kiss to her temple. “We make cute babies.”

“You didn’t even make Kiri yourselves.” You point out with a laugh, rocking Neteyam softly against your chest as he lets out a quiet little babbling sound.

“Yeah, she just picked up on the cuteness by being around us,” Jake grins. “Like that science shit. What’s it called… osmosis.”

“That’s not how osmosis works, moron-”

Tsu’tey hardly hears a word either of you are saying. Kiri is shifting in his hands, her tiny pink mouth opening as she yawns with a flash of her gums. Her hair is downy and soft, and her tiny hands clench around air as she reaches out, seeking a grip on anything. Were all babies this lovely? He had no idea – he’s never really been around any. 

His gaze slides sideways, towards you once more. On a good day he finds it difficult to keep his eyes off you, but now? With you holding a little Na’vi baby to your chest as though it’s all so perfectly natural, and smiling as though you’ve never been happier? Now, he’s finding it impossible to keep his eyes off you. 

He would make cute babies with you. He just knows it. 

A throat is cleared, and Tsu’tey is jarred from his thoughts. When he looks up, he finds that Neytiri is looking at him with a particularly knowing look. You’re still talking to Jake, laughing at whatever he’s saying, but Tsu’tey still grows flustered. He feels caught.

“Take her back.” He says, his voice gruff as he proffers the baby back to her parents.

Kiri’s tails waves lazily in mid-air before wrapping around his wrist, and Tsu’tey nearly crumbles entirely. Why was this happening right now? He was fine before this – now, he feels as though his mind is melting into absolute mush.

Neytiri raises an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed by his manner, but she accepts the baby back all the same. Kiri gurgles, and Neytiri coos softly at her before holding her protectively to her breast.

Still embarrassed at having been caught out, Tsu’tey’s eyes slide right back to you. This time though, you’re looking back at him. Neteyam’s head is resting sleepily against your chest and you’re stroking at the fluffy bits of hair on his head, but you’re watching him closely. There’s a little crease between your brows – you look concerned.

You look to Jake, and offer Neteyam out with a smile. “Better take the little guy too, then.”

Jake takes his son back, and Tsu’tey watches with a twitching tail as he smiles down at his son so proudly. He doesn’t fully realise that he’s staring until he feels your small little hand on his forearm, and then he looks down to see you peering up into his face. He knows that you would be able to read him all too easily, so he hurries to wipe his expression clean.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, low so that Jake and Neytiri can’t hear. “You’re quiet. Even more so than usual, I mean.”

“I am fine, ma’muntxate,” He says mechanically. He thinks once again of you with a rounded belly, happy and sated in your shared kelku, and wonders if his brain is rotting.

You’re still squinting at him, clearly unconvinced. “Is it because you dropped your food? I can get you more-”

“No,” He says, though it comes out distracted and unconvincing. “I am tired. I will go to bed now.”

“But don’t you want-”

Tsu’tey has always prided himself on being a fearless warrior, a mighty hunter. And yet in that moment, he ran from the cookfire like a coward to take refuge in the dark shelter of the kelku where no one could see how shamefaced he was.

Tsu’tey is embarrassed to admit that for several days, he avoids you like the plague.

He’s afraid that you’ll read his thoughts right off his face. He can barely even make eye contact with you. Now that he’s started thinking about it, it feels like he can’t think of anything else.

The thoughts of family, of children, have set into his thoughts like an infection. The thought of you carrying his baby is wonderful (and the thought of making the baby even better) but that’s not the only place his thoughts stray to. He thinks of raising the child, with you by his side. 

Parenthood doesn’t suit everyone, he knows that, but you? You have so much unconditional love to give, he knows that you would be wonderful. When he thinks of himself as a father, a curl of excitement licks at his stomach. He imagines how it would feel to hold his child close, to teach them the ways of the people, how to hunt and provide. He thinks of how he would teach you how to weave a songcord, how you could both add on to it for every milestone.

It’s not fair, and he knows that. He was content before – he is content now. His life is good. He doesn’t need anything else, but he just… he can’t help but think. You are stronger than you look, but you are still delicate. There are many things your body can take, but a Na’vi pregnancy? Not likely. And that’s assuming that you actually could get pregnant. You may be sexually compatible, but that doesn’t mean that you’re going to be reproductively compatible. And that’s fine – really!

He’ll get over this moment of madness, he just needs a little bit of space to get his thoughts together. 

He spends the next few days hunting deep in the forest, or lurking around the village in spots that you’re not likely to come looking for him. He ends up spending a lot of time in the hot springs north of the village, hoping that the hot water will soothe the ache in his shoulders from all that tension he’s been carrying around.

He had thought that he was being subtle, but he is not entirely oblivious to the looks that he’s been getting from others around the village. It was rare for him to spend so much time away from you, and he knows that everyone is wondering about it.

“Trouble in paradise?” Jakesully asks one day, following him around the village like an unwanted little pest.

“What?” Tsu’tey snaps; he is still unused to those irritating little human idioms.

“What is going on with you, man?” Jake asks, reaching out to grab at his arm.

Tsu’tey wrenches his arm free and bares his teeth in warning. Jake throws his hands up in surrender, but he doesn’t look sorry. 

“Nothing is wrong.” Tsu’tey grumbles, rolling his shoulders and attempting to look unaffected.

Jakesully just raises an eyebrow. “Right. Look, whatever you argued about, just talk to her-”

Tsu’tey is surprised at that, though he tries not to show it. “We have not argued.”

“No?” Jake’s brows furrow. “Oh. Well, why are you being so weird, then? She’s all upset, you know. Thinks that you’re angry with her.”

Tsu’tey’s stomach sinks. Fuck, he knew that he was handling this badly. Now he’s gotten himself into one big mess.

Jakesully is still looking at him thoughtfully, but then his expression unfolds into realisation. “Oh, man. Is this about the baby thing?”

Tsu’tey nearly chokes at that. How could Jakesully have known?

“What?”

“Oh, come on,” Jake rolls his shoulders, and glances around quickly to ensure that no one is listening in. Tsu’tey has a furtive look around of his own, and then Jake is leaning in to talk quietly, “Look, I’m not judging. When Neytiri said she wants kids, I swear I couldn’t keep my hands off her-”

Tsu’tey whirls, baring his teeth in warning, but Jake just keeps going.

“Just talk to her, skxawng. It doesn’t matter if you have some weird pregnancy kink-”

“I do not!”

“She’s been sniffling around the place for days now, thinking that you’re not into her anymore!” Jake steamrolls over his protests. “Just tell her you want babies and that you’ve been acting like a total dickhead about it. You know she’ll forgive you, but she has to understand first.”

Tsu’tey stands there, feeling as though he had just been slapped around the head. 

“She thinks I am not interested in her?” He repeats, bewildered. “But- we have mated before Eywa. She is my mate. How could I lose interest?”

Jakesully has a look of longsuffering about him, as though this conversation is ageing him years. “Yeah, well. Didn’t I tell you before that mating doesn’t work the same for humans? She’s worried you changed your mind.”

Tsu’tey is absolutely floored. He had tied himself to you for life when he had mated with you. Every success and failure, every triumph and heartbreak, every low and high, it was all to be shared with you. There would never be anyone else – the thought of there being anyone else made his stomach rebel. 

“Why would she not tell me that she is feeling like this?” He wonders, a little hurt.

He’s not expecting the harsh shove that comes to his shoulder, and he hisses at Jakesully before stepping out of the way of another hit.

“You’re avoiding her, moron!” Jake snaps, apparently having officially lost patience. “How the hell can she tell you anything if you keep running from her?”

Tsu’tey’s ears flatten. He recognises that he is being unreasonable, and he shuffles uncomfortably on his feet.

“My desires are not fair to her,” He mumbles, shame-faced. “She is enough for me, she will always be enough for me, but I keep thinking…” He trails off, uncertain about how to voice his feelings. “I am thinking of possibilities.”

Jakesully is watching him with an expression that is uncomfortably knowing.

Tsu’tey clears his throat, embarrassed and irritable over his vulnerability. “She was very good with your children. Did you see?”

Jake’s face twitches into a smirk. “Yeah, man. I saw. Your reaction was pretty obvious.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t see any point in arguing. It probably was obvious.

Jake sighs, and reaches out to push at his shoulder again. This time it’s more gentle. “Go on. Go talk to her. This is stuff that she should be hearing.”

Jakesully has a point, to Tsu’tey’s irritation, and he bows his head.

“I will talk to her.” Tsu’tey mumbles, looking away.

As it happens, Tsu’tey doesn’t have to go looking for you at all. You find him.

He’s in the forest outside the village, hovering around the stream as he waits to spot a fish, when you emerge from the trees behind him.

His ears perk up in surprise at the sight of you. “What are you doing here, ma’yawntu? It is not safe for you to come into the forest alone-”

You don’t appear to be listening to him at all. Your eyes are narrowed and you glare at him as you hop down the rocks so that you can stand in front of him. When he reaches out to help you climb down to the shore of the river, you slap his hands away with a scowl.

“For fuck’s sake, will you just tell me what’s wrong?” You hiss, your expression all crumpled up and hurt. “Jake said that you weren’t angry at me, but I don’t understand why you’re avoiding me like this!”

His ears pin back against his head. He had planned to come and find you, but now it feels as though he’s been cornered. He hasn’t planned what he was going to say to you, and he finds himself floundering. How could he tell you? There was no easy way to put his desires into words.

“Of course I am not angry at you.” He mumbles, slinging his bow over his shoulder. After a beat of hesitation, he steps forward so that he’s kneeling in front of you at eye-level. “Sweet girl. I am sorry.”

“For what?” You demand. Your expression is all scrunched – he is confusing you, and his stomach sinks at the realisation that he has been upsetting you so much.

His tail lashes anxiously. How is he supposed to look you in the eyes and confess this? It is so selfish of him.

“You were very good with the babies.” He murmurs, fixing his gaze on your shoulder. 

Even without looking directly at your face, he can see your look of bewilderment. To you, that probably seems like a non-sequitur. 

“The babies?”

“Mm.” 

You’re still staring at him blankly. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

“No,” He mumbles, his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. “It is the same subject.”

Very slowly, comprehension is beginning to dawn over your face. “So all this is about babies?”

Oh, he wants the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him whole. You must think him disgusting. Do you think he is a bad mate? It is so selfish of him to wish for this, after all.

“Oh, Tsu’tey,” You sigh. “You idiot.”

His ears flatten as he frowns at you. “Why idiot?”

When you step forward and loop your arms around his shoulders, he perks up a little. Does this mean that you are not angry with him?

“Why wouldn’t you talk to me about this, skxawng?” You murmur, reaching out to run your fingers through his beaded braids. His eyelids flutter at the pleasant feeling and he leans into your hands. “You want a family?”

“You are my family.” He says quickly, shifting on his knees before raising his hands to rest against your little hips. That makes you smile.

“I know,” You breathe, thumb stroking over his cheek. “I know that. But I’m asking you about children.”

Tsu’tey’s sure that his pupils have expanded, and he can feel his tail swishing slowly from side to side. You’re not judging him at all; you’re just waiting for an honest answer. He feels his heart swell impossibly larger.

“I… have been thinking about it,” He says. His voice is low and embarrassed, but he raises his gaze so that he’s looking right into your eyes. “About you having my children.”

It feels like a dirty little secret, but you’re smiling at him so fondly. 

“Yeah?” You breathe, grinning. “Well, why the fuck were you hiding from me, then?”

His ears twitch. “It felt… selfish, tìyawn. To wish for something you cannot give.”

That makes you frown. “Can’t give?”

His thumb strokes over your waist, his eyes drawn to your belly. “You are so small. You could not carry my child. It would be too dangerous, even if it were possible.”

You’re watching him thoughtfully, lips pursed. “Is this like, a thing for you? You just want to see me pregnant?”

He certainly can’t deny his interest in that, but it’s important that you know that’s not just it.

“Not only that,” He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss the base of your throat. “I keep thinking… I think of you raising our child. I think of teaching them, of loving them. You would be wonderful with them, I know it. And I… I would like fatherhood, I think.”

Your expression has gone so soft, and when you lean in to kiss the top of his ear a shudder rips through him. His hands tighten around your waist, and he leans in to nuzzle insistently at your throat. 

Oh, this little confession feels like having a weight lifted from his shoulders. You weren’t angry at him – you just listened, so full of understanding. How could he have expected anything less from you?

“Tsu’tey,” You murmur, tilting your head back with a sigh as he nips a soft kiss into your throat. “Come with me.”

He glances up at that, interest piqued. “Where?”

“The science outpost.”

Oh, now you have his attention. He perks up in delight, and moves to stand immediately. You have not lived among the other humans in the science outpost since you had mated with Tsu’tey and moved into his kelku, but that does not mean that you have not been back to the little human encampment since. It is the only place where it is safe for you to remove your breathing mask, and so the two of you make good use of your old bunk whenever you feel the need to.

“Let’s go then.” Tsu’tey says, doing a poor job at concealing his eagerness.

You just laugh, and take his hand as he leads the way through the forest. Several times he gets a little too impatient when you slowly clamber over roots or rocks, and he ends up scooping you right up into his arms as he barrels his way through the forest. 

The science outpost isn’t too far away, but it still feels as though it takes an age to reach it. When the shoddy building finally looms up in the distance, Tsu’tey feels his stomach leap. It has been too long since he’s had full access to his little mate’s face, and he longs to kiss you properly. What will likely follow after the kissing is even more thrilling, and he feels his tail lash eagerly at the thought of taking you in that cramped little bed.

You’re laughing at his eagerness as he attempts to shoulder his way inside the building, clenching his jaw in irritation as he’s forced to wait for the pressurised doors to close behind them and regulate the atmosphere before the two of you are allowed past the entryway.

“Someone’s excited.” You say coyly, reaching up to remove your mask as soon as the doors slide open with a hiss, allowing you to enter the outpost properly.

Tsu’tey doesn’t care that several of the human scientists turn to look at the two of you when you step inside. He has not had access to your face for over a week now, and he catches you by the waist before leaning in for a quick, passionate kiss. He is excited, and he likes letting you know exactly how you make him feel.

The scientists are very used to the two of you by now, and he can hear them start to hastily gather up their things as they prepare to give you some privacy.

Good, He thinks smugly. They know when to leave.

But then, to his confusion, you break away from him. 

“Wait, Norm!” You call out.

The lanky human scientist pauses, looking up with a visible wince. He looks anxious at the sight of you, and his gaze cuts towards Tsu’tey with a grimace.

“Ah. Hey.” He says weakly, lowering his files back down to the desk he had just scrambled to pick them from. “We’re actually headed out now! So, um, you can do whatever-”

“No,” You say quickly, growing visibly flustered at the insinuation. “We’re not here for that.”

Tsu’tey’s head swivels around to look at you, his brow drawing low. “We are not?”

You ignore him, swatting absently at his side as you focus on Norm. “Where’s Spider?”

Norm is looking from you to Tsu’tey, and Tsu’tey is looking blankly back at him. He has no more idea about what you’re doing here than the scientist does – especially since it appears that you hadn’t brought him here with mating in mind. He feels a little put out, honestly.

“He, uh… He’s been running wild all morning. He’s totally tuckered out now – he’s sleeping in the back.” Norm says at last, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” You smile at him, before reaching to take Tsu’tey’s hand in yours. 

He goes easily when you tug at him, following you with a confused scowl as you lead him towards the back of the building. When you lead him into the living quarters, he looks wistfully towards your old bunk, but you pull him on insistently.

“Why are we here?” He mumbles, still scowling a little. He is happy to be here with you, but he doesn’t understand why you’ve brought him amongst the Sky People.

For a moment, you don’t answer. You just pull the little CO2 regulator off your bunk where it had been left the last time he was here, and push the breathing mask into his hands. He takes it with a grumble, and takes a deep inhale before looping it around his neck.

“I want to show you something.” You say simply, before raising his big hand to your mouth and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

His ears rotate forward, pleased with the sensation of your soft lips against his skin. Unable to deny you anything, he follows you without complaint.

As you approach the back of the room, ducking under the privacy curtains, his ears pick up on soft, snuffling breathing. 

“What is that?” He mutters to you, tugging at your hand.

You hush him, before pulling back one last privacy curtain to reveal a small bunk. The bed is occupied by a figure so small that Tsu’tey squints at it in bewilderment. It is a human child, obviously, no older than two years old, but he hadn’t ever imagined that human babies were so small.

Your eyes are fixed carefully onto his face as he steps forward to peer down at the child, but he doesn’t look at you. The child is fast asleep, his mouth dropped open as a little bit of drool glistens on his cheek. Golden, tangled curls are plastered to his forehead, and he snuffles sleepily as he nuzzles into the pillow under his head. He’s clearly being well-fed, but there are streaks of dirt around his plump face and across his legs.

“The science guys have been taking care of him as best as they can, especially Norm,” You murmur, your voice very soft to avoid waking the baby. “But you know how they are. Sometimes they forget to eat and shower themselves, nevermind a baby.”

Tsu’tey is still watching the child sleep, a confused frown beginning to creep across his face. He is not stupid. He has heard of this child before. His existence alone has been controversial for the People, though he has gone unseen and unheard of for the most part. Are you suggesting what he thinks you’re suggesting?

“He has no one,” You whisper to him, soothing in the dim light of the room. “I’ve been thinking of suggesting this for a while, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”

“Yawntutsyìp, I know who this child’s father is.” He tries to keep his voice low like you, but he can’t help the rough edge that has crept in. 

“He has no father.” You whisper back stubbornly. “He has no mother. Look at him.”

Ears flat, Tsu’tey obeys. His eyes travel over the child’s grimy skin, and he grimaces as his tail tucks low. 

“He is a sky demon.” He grumbles, though he is already leaning closer to look at the child’s face.

“So am I,” You point out grimly. “You don’t always get to choose how your children turn out, you know.”

His children. Tentatively, he reaches out and rubs at a spot of dirt on the child’s leg. Instead of flinching away from his touch like he had expected, Spider leans into his hand. His throat tightens, and he wonders how often this child actually experiences physical contact – even asleep, he chases after it as though he’s starved of it.

“How will he breathe in the village?” Tsu’tey wonders, brow furrowed. “Your masks will not fit him.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see you biting at your lip. He realises that he’s just inadvertently conceded to you, and he tries not to sigh.

“Norm has made him a smaller one that will fit.” You murmur, edging closer to him. “You’re thinking about it?”

“It will be hard for him.” Tsu’tey is frowning, reaching for your hand and squeezing lightly at your hands to ensure that you’re listening to him. “He is too small. Too weak. This world is not made for him, and the People will find it difficult to accept him.”

You hum softly and edge closer, laying your head against his shoulder. The proximity makes him relax a little against you, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“You could say the same about me, you know.” You say pointedly, nuzzling at his shoulder. “But you’ve taken care of me so far. I know you’d look after him, too.”

Even in this circumstance, he preens lightly under your praise. It means a lot to hear that you believe him to be a strong care-taker and a good provider, to both you and to a possible child.

“If we don’t care for him, he’ll be raised here,” You breathe. “He won’t get any proper care. Look at him – he’s not even two yet, and he’s being overlooked already. He needs attention, and looking after. And you just told me that you are willing to offer those things to a child.”

He is already nodding. He can see that you’re right – the human scientists are not capable of raising anything, they are not capable of seeing. They lack the ability to connect to anything, only able to appreciate his planet on a surface level. 

Your attention shifts back to the child on the bed, and your face softens into a smile. “Hey, Spider. You remember me?”

Tsu’tey’s head snaps back around to find that the baby has awoken, and is staring up at him with wide eyes. Tsu’tey stares back, uneasy and curious. Slowly, Spider nods.

Your smile brightens. “This is Tsu’tey. Can you say hello?”

Spider does not say hello, but he does sit up so that he can peer curiously into Tsu’tey’s face. He doesn’t appear afraid at all, and Tsu’tey wonders if he is the first Na’vi that he has ever seen.

“Hello,” Tsu’tey rumbles, his English heavily accented.

The child’s fearlessness is admirable, especially in the face of one so much larger than him. Tsu’tey finds himself reluctantly impressed.

“Come here,” You murmur, reaching out your hands.

Tsu’tey watches with avid interest as the child crawls forward into your arms. You wrap him into your arms and pull him against your chest, stroking his mess of curls as he lays his head against your shoulder. What a quiet little thing.

Something odd curls in his chest at the sight. His small human mate, holding such a tiny human child. Cautiously, he curls his arm around your shoulders and feels you lean into him.

Oh, he thinks. The rush of emotions at the feeling of holding his mate and a child in his arms is startling, and he takes a deep breath as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. It feels right.

“I will have to finish building the rope bridge to our kelku,” He grumbles. “He will need a safe way of getting up there without breaking his neck. The ladder will not be enough for one so small.”

A big grin is blooming across your face, and you twist around to look at him over your shoulder. “Protective daddy mode activated already, huh?”

He doesn’t understand half of what that means, but he can’t stop the eager thump of his tail. Yes, he will be a good father. He will keep the child safe.

A very tiny smile begins to curl around his mouth, and he brushes his nose along your shoulder. With his face hidden from you, he finally has the courage to say, “I have always wanted a big family.”

He feels your little laugh more than he hears it, and then you say, “I have something else to show you.”

When you stand up straight, Spider clings to you. It’s a sweet sight. He doesn’t look like a demon, like this. He looks small and delicate and weak.

“Hey,” You murmur to Spider. “Want to go up high?”

When the child nods, you turn and hand him to Tsu’tey. He freezes, staring at the child that you’re offering him. Spider stares back at him, wide-eyed and inquisitive as his limbs dangle in the air. 

“He wants to go on your shoulders,” You whisper pointedly, raising your eyebrows.

“Ah.” Tsu’tey manages, finally reaching to take him. It’s scarier than he had expected, taking the child into his hands. Spider is very small, and Tsu’tey’s hands practically dwarf him.

When Tsu’tey reaches to settle the baby on his shoulders, Spider’s tiny hands grab at his braids and tangle there. A quiet, almost impossible to hear, little laugh comes out of his mouth, and Tsu’tey feels the child leaning heavily against him for balance.

You’re looking up at them both so softly, and you smile as you reach to tug at Tsu’tey’s hand. As always, he follows you without asking questions.

When the two of you emerge from the living quarters with Spider on Tsu’tey’s shoulders, the two of you are subject to a lot of raised eyebrows and surprised sort of looks. Tsu’tey meets those looks with a dangerous glare of his own, and the curious human scientists are quick to look away.

He follows you through the laboratory, one of his hands settled cautiously over Spider’s very tiny thigh to prevent him from falling off his shoulders. Every so often the child will giggle softly, and one of Tsu’tey’s ears will flick in response.

At the back of the lab, there’s a large glass tank, and you gesture at it as you approach. 

“Do you know what that is?” You ask, reaching out to tap lightly at the glass.

Tsu’tey frowns at it. The tube is not empty. It’s full of some kind of liquid, and floating in it is a body that is very familiar. It’s Grace. Or at least, what was once Grace’s avatar.

“A tube.” He says, rather unintelligently. He does not want to admit his ignorance, but you pick up on it anyway.

“Avatars are grown in tubes just like this.” You say, peering in at Grace with a sad smile. “Whole Na’vi bodies grown from half human, half Na’vi DNA. Impressive, isn’t it?”

“Demon technology.” Tsu’tey comments with a frown. Spider shifts on his shoulders, and he hurries to adjust his grip on the child.

You roll your eyes. “I thought you’d be used to demon technology by now, muntxatan,” His tail swishes at the term of endearment, but you just smile and continue, “My body might not be able to sustain a hybrid pregnancy, but it doesn’t need to. There’s no reason that this demon technology couldn’t be used to grow a baby from human and Na’vi DNA. It’d be kind of like IVF, in a way.”

That gives Tsu’tey pause, and he turns to look at the tube with a new perspective. He had never considered that the demon technology could be used for something like that. It is… a lot to absorb.

“You don’t have to think too much about it just yet,” Your voice is so soft, as though you know he has been overloaded. “But if you want a big family… well. I just wanted you to know that it’s possible.”

He doesn’t have the first idea of what to say. He has gone from believing that he was aberrant for wishing for this with you and being terrified to so much as voice his desires, to agreeing to take on a little demon baby, and already planning for more. 

His ears swivel, his eyes wide and thoughtful. Slowly, he nods.

“We will discuss more later,” He murmurs, bringing his free hand low to rest on your lower back as Spider tugs at his braids. “We must take the child back to our kelku, first.”

“What’s the rush?” You ask, teasing at him.

Tsu’tey squares his shoulders, some of his old confidence returning. This is a challenge he is fit for, he’s sure of it. He will provide for his tiny weak mate and his new tiny weak son, and he will protect them to the best of his ability. You have been quick to learn the ways of the People – Spider will learn too, with guidance. His mouth twitches at the thought of teaching him customs, teaching him how to hunt, making him a songcord. All those nonsense dreams he had, now a reality.

“I have to finish that rope bridge.”

I LOVE THIS SM AJSDHFASJDFG

Of Duty and Desire | Chapter 2 | Neteyam x Metkayina!reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the love I got on the first part 🥰 and thank you for your patience waiting for this one. I hope y’all enjoy it, and while you’re waiting for the next part, allow me to shamelessly plug my other finished fic here.

5.2k words, which in the words of my roommate @britany1997 “you write long ass fics.” (I know, Brit, I know)

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

It had now been over a year since the Sullys' arrival in the reef, and you couldn't imagine your life without them anymore. Tuk was as good at diving as any Metkayina child her age. You and Lo'ak bonded over your ongoing friendly competition over who was the better ilu rider (you were, but he was getting better everyday). Kiri had truly blossomed in the reef, and nobody treated her differently anymore.

But out of the four of them, Neteyam was the one you felt closest to. Even though you enjoyed laughing and joking together, you both understood what it meant to have a responsibility to your clan, a sense of duty to your people. It was a shared experience that was part of the reason you had become friends so quickly. When you would feel overwhelmed or frustrated by the high expectations of your parents or Ronal, he was always there to listen and cheer you up.

On warmer nights, when you felt stressed, you would sneak out to enjoy the peace of the water on the beach alone. You spent so much of your day busy with things to do that you felt as though you rarely had a moment of peace with yourself.

On one such night, you walked along the edge of the beach before settling down in the sand, the waves of the water gently lapping at your feet. The night air was warm, and you lay back on the sand to look up at the stars. You stayed like that for some time before the sound of crunching sand behind you broke the peaceful silence.

You sat up quickly in alarm and found that it was Neteyam walking along the beach. He seemed just as surprised at finding you there on the beach by yourself. "You startled me," you told him as he drew near. "And you startled me," he countered. "I didn't think I would find anyone out so late." You hummed and explained, "I couldn't sleep." He sat down in the sand next to you. "Nor could I," he replied. "Do you often come out at night?"

You shrugged and leaned back on your hands. "Sometimes," you admitted. "I enjoy looking at the stars." Neteyam looked up at the clear night sky. He searched for a while before a slow smile appeared on his face. "Do you see that one there?" He asked, pointing at a star. You looked after him, but you weren't sure which he was referring to. "Which one?" You questioned.

He moved in close next to you, bringing his face right up next to yours. His shoulder leaned against yours as he lifted a hand to point at the sky. "There," he said softly as he pointed at a star flickering above. "The yellowish one." You stared up at where he pointed and noticed the yellow star he was referring to. "I see it," you said quietly with a small smile.

You turned your head to look at him, and you suddenly became aware of how close he was to you. Neteyam seemed to have the same realization because he pulled away gently and looked away self-consciously. "My father came from there," he explained as he looked back at the sky. "That very star."

You looked back up at the flickering light in amazement. "That is incredible," you whispered. "Your father is legendary amongst the Na'vi." He shrugged nonchalantly. "It is hard to see him as such when I have seen him embarrass himself countless times," he told you with a wry grin.

You suppressed a laugh. "I suppose to you, he is just your father," you mused. He smiled down at you. "Everyone sees him as this fearless leader," he explained, and his voice suddenly became very somber. "But I know what really scares him." You watched him expectantly, trying to think of all the great beasts that could inspire fear in such a renowned warrior. Then, with a sly smirk, he leaned in close and whispered, "My mother."

That time, he actually did make you laugh. "Tonowari is the same," you told him, and Neteyam nodded emphatically. "That is understandable. Ronal is very formidable," he said. You shrugged your shoulders casually. "She's not so bad," you defended. Your mother was a lifelong friend of the tsahik, and you had become very familiar with Ronal and developed a better understanding of her strict demeanor during your time as her apprentice.

Neteyam shot you a disbelieving look. You sighed before admitting, "She is formidable, yes, but she is very loyal and fiercely protective." You sifted the sand between your fingers and looked up at him with a smirk. "But I see how she can be scary. Even Tonowari thinks so."

Neteyam chuckled at you. "Something about the role of Olo'eyktan seems to attract fearsome mates," he observed humorously. You hummed in amusement. "I hope I will inspire the same fear in Aonung one day," you joked.

You weren't quite sure what it was, but you sensed a slight shift in Neteyam's demeanor. It was the prolonged silence between your statement and his reply, almost as if you had unwittingly said the wrong thing. You looked over at him, but when he glanced back, he offered a faint smile. "Perhaps you will," he said finally. "But for now, I have to admit, you don't seem very intimidating."

You scoffed lightheartedly and tossed some sand at him. "How dare you," you told him with false offense. "I will be even more fearsome than Ronal and your mother combined." He chuckled at your theatrics and brushed the sand off of his arm. "If that is true, then you will be like a palulukan," he stated.

You tilted your head at him in confusion. "A palulukan?" you echoed questioningly. Neteyam seemed to remember that the fierce, feline creature he spoke of did not live around the reef, and therefore you had no knowledge of it. "Palulukan, the bringer of fear," he explained. "They are large, dangerous predators in the forest. There is nothing they are afraid of, and there is nothing that is not afraid of them."

You smiled thoughtfully at his words. "That does sound fearsome," you conceded. "And I thought the ikran were intimidating." Neteyam huffed in amusement. "They certainly can be," he agreed. "But they are excellent companions when they're bonded." You hummed in consideration and replied, "That doesn't make them any less intimidating."

Neteyam was staring at you with a thoughtful face, a slow smile forming on his face. "Would you like to see them?" He asked mischievously. You looked over at him quizzically. "Right now?" You clarified. He shrugged, his lips still turned up in a grin. "Sure," he replied. "But we don't have to if you'd rather not."

You felt your own lips twist into a smile. You had wanted to see the great beasts the Sullys flew up close since they first arrived, but for some reason, you had felt a little awkward about asking them. Now, you finally had an invitation to go.

"I would love to see them," you told Neteyam sincerely. He stood up eagerly and held his hand out to you. You took it, and the two of you headed over to where they kept their ikran. The great, flying creatures preferred to stay up on the rocky precipices above the water, so the two of you had to walk quite a distance, but neither of you minded when you were in each other's company.

When you made it to the base of the cliff, Neteyam made a strange calling sound that carried up the side of the rock. After a moment, you saw the silhouette of his ikran glide over the edge of the cliff and settle down in front of you. You couldn't help but laugh in amazement as Neteyam stepped forward to greet his ikran.

"Do not look at his eyes," he warned as you approached carefully. You averted your gaze obediently and instead focused on the size of its powerful wings. "He is beautiful," you told him earnestly. "You chose well."

He chuckled as he stroked his ikran's neck. "He chose me," he corrected you. "Ikran are not like ilu or skimwings. They only bond with one rider. It is one of the trials of the Omatikaya." You listened attentively as you wandered around the ikran in admiration. "It must be very difficult," you noted as his ikran rustled its wings a few times. He huffed in amusement and muttered, "Very."

You wanted to touch the ikran, but you hesitated, not wanting to agitate it by accident. As though he could read your mind, Neteyam offered you a reassuring smile. "You can touch him," he told you. Giving him a quick glance, you carefully reached out and brushed your hand along its leathery skin.

His ikran snapped its head to look at you, causing you to jerk your hand back quickly. Neteyam chuckled at your reaction. Coming up behind you, he placed his hand on the back of yours and brought it back up to the body of his ikran, guiding your hand over its smooth, green skin.

You gave a small laugh of amazement. Under your palm, you could feel its tense muscles around its wings. "He is very strong," you observed. Neteyam hummed quietly in response right beside ear.

You turned your head to face him better. Even in the dim light, you could make out every detail of his face, the pattern of the stars on his face and his amber eyes that seemed to glow. In the silence between you, he seemed to be studying your face as well, his eyes flicking back and forth between your own.

Neteyam seemed to pull himself out if his thoughts. He withdrew his hand from yours and stepped back to stroke the head if his ikran. You ran your hand over the leathery wings as you took a moment to shake yourself out of your thoughts as well.

"It was a startling sight when your family first arrived," you said, finally breaking the silence. "Few of us had ever seen Na'vi fly in the sky." He smiled over at you thoughtfully. "Would you like to fly?" He asked, his corners of his lips turned upwards playfully.

You turned to him in surprise. "Are you being serious?" You questioned skeptically. He shrugged. "If you'd like," he replied simply. "We already came all the way out here." You looked back at the powerful creature beneath your palm, and you couldn't deny the excitement you felt at his proposal.

"Are you sure?" You asked nervously. "Is it safe?" Neteyam's face softened as he smiled at you. "I will keep you safe," he assured you. "I promise."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and looking up in his face, you knew he would keep his word. "Okay," you said softly, then added playfully, "but you better not let me fall." He laughed at you. "I won't," he promised.

Attaching his queue to his ikran, Neteyam hoisted himself up on its back. He held out his hand to you, and after a brief hesitation, you took it. He pulled you up to sit on the space behind him. Since there was no saddle to sit on, you drew yourself close to Neteyam's back.

"The takeoff will be the worst part," he warned over his shoulder. "Just hold on to me, I won't let you fall." You wrapped your arms around his torso and replied softly, "Okay." The ikran crawled away to the edge of the cliff. "Ready?" Neteyam asked, and you could tell by his voice that he was smiling. Wrapping your arms tighter, you replied, "Ready."

His ikran lurched upwards and quickly began beating its wings. The sudden movement made you gasp and squeeze Neteyam's torso even tighter. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were almost starting to regret agreeing to this, but almost as quickly as it started, the frantic flapping stopped.

The wind was rushing through your hair as you glided gently through the air. The wings of the ikran moved gently to maintain its height, but it was not as hard or as fast as when it left the ground. After the startling takeoff, you couldn't help but laugh in giddy delight over the thrilling feeling of being in the air.

Neteyam cast a quick look over his shoulder at you and returned your wide smile. He held your thigh securely as his ikran turned right over the water. You could see the reflections of the stars above you in the water below. Neteyam brought his ikran just above the surface of the water, its wings barely skimming the top.

You marveled at the feeling of flying. The warm air felt cool as it rushed around you. The world seemed to be moving slowly around you. You felt your stomach flutter as you swooped upwards, and you began climbing through the air again.

"This is incredible!" You shouted over the sound of the wind. Neteyam laughed in response. "Not like an ilu, right?" he called out. You laughed too before replying, "Not at all."

You continued rising through the air steadily, and when you leveled out, you gasped at the sight below you. Everything was so beautiful. The bioluminescent plants below lit up the village, and the sea was sparkling with the light of the stars.

You leaned your cheek against Neteyam's back as you took in the image of everything under you. It was so incredible that, for a moment, you thought that maybe you were dreaming, but you knew this couldn't be the case. You never could have come up with this feeling in your sleep, and the rushing air around you and the warmth of Neteyam's body against yours was too real to be a dream.

You weren't sure how long you were both in the air, but it didn't feel like long enough. Eventually, Neteyam had his ikran settle down on the beach right at the edge of the village before he leapt down off its back. He took you by the hand and helped you dismount easily.

"That was exhilarating!" You gushed in excitement. He grinned at you and admitted, "I was worried you were going to back out last minute." You pushed him playfully. "Not me," You laughed. "I wasn't going to miss out on being the first of the Metkayina to fly!"

He chuckled at your giddy bravado. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said. "It's easy for me to take flying for granted." You shook your head in amazement and sighed. "Thank you," you told him, staring up at him earnestly. "It was very generous of you to take me." He had a soft smile as he gazed down at you. "It was nothing," he replied gently. "If you ever want to go again, just ask." You grinned and nodded. "I'd like that," you said softly.

A brief silence settled over the two of you as you looked up into his face. In the same way as earlier that night, you found yourself studying his face again. His smile was contagious, and the way his eyes looked down at you so softly made your face grow warm.

After a moment, Neteyam sighed reluctantly. "It is getting late," he mentioned. "I think it would be best for us to go home." You closed your eyes and sighed as well. You knew that he was right and that you should do the same.

He gave his ikran an affectionate pat before disconnecting his queue. His ikran took to the skies, blowing the sand as he flapped away. You both watched for a moment before turning back to the village.

Neteyam walked quietly back with you to your home, careful not to disturb anyone around. When you arrived, you turned back to face him. "I will see you tomorrow," he whispered softly. You couldn't suppress the smile on your face as you responded, "I will see you then."

You watched for a moment as he walked away, still wearing a faint smile on your face. As you settled into bed, you replayed the night in your head. You could still feel the rush of wind on your face, the warmth of his body against your own, and you could hear his laugh ringing through your head.

You stared at the canopy above you for a long time, growing more and more perplexed. Neteyam was a close friend, and you had always thought he was kind and intelligent, but now, your thoughts were wandering back to the feeling of your face resting against his back, his steadying grip on your thigh as you swooped over the water, and the way he looked at you in the silent moments between laughs.

What perplexed you was that you found yourself missing his touch, missing his presence. You wanted to hear more stories about the forest and to see his face light up as he told them. You wanted to hold him close again as you flew into the late night sky.

Worst of all, you felt a faint, dangerous desire growing in you hoping that he felt the same way.

A welcome distraction came the following week after your late-night adventure with Neteyam. With the water growing warmer again, you and your clan were overjoyed to welcome the return of the tulkun. Along with the rest of the Metkayina, the day that they returned, you spent hours in the water with your spirit sister, Tanati. She was a talented storyteller, and she regaled you with her adventures away from the reef.

Every year with the return of the tulkun, the Metkayina held a great feast at night. All along the beach, there were several fires lit. A great supply of food was provided, and the night was to be filled with music and dancing. Everybody dressed in their finest clothing, and you even changed your hairstyle for the occasion.

This was your favorite time of the year. The whole clan was buzzing with excitement as they prepared for the feast. Being reconnected with Tanati brought you so much joy, and the happiness of the rest of the clan made it all the sweeter.

You sat with Tonowari's family as you all began eating. A wide variety of fish and vegetables as well as sweet nectar from the tropical plants on shore were all distributed among the people. You laughed with the Sully children, Tsireya, and other friends as you ate in the diminishing light of the evening.

After a short interlude of time to eat, Tonowari stood up, drawing the attention of the rest of the clan. "Tonight," he called out loudly for everyone to hear, "we celebrate the return of our tulkun brothers and sisters!" Cheers rose up from the masses. As they died away, he continued, "We are reminded of the cycle of life, and we celebrate new life as well as the lives of those who have gone on to be with our Great Mother."

There was a brief silence as everyone reflected on his words. Both the Na'vi and the tulkun had celebrated the births of children as well as mourned the deaths of loved ones in the community that year, but it was important that the balance of life be honored and celebrated, especially on a night like this.

"Now," Tonowari said, "let us sing and dance in celebration to honor our tulkun family." More cheers rose up from the people, and soon after, drums began pounding in the open air.

As the music began, you perked up. The opening song was an easy dance for everyone to join. You grabbed Neteyam's arm in excitement. "You must join us!" You said eagerly, pulling him gently as you stood up. He let out a small laugh and shook his head. "I don't know these dances," he pointed out, resisting your pulling.

You gave an imploring smile. "This is easy!" you explained. "Just watch." He didn't budge, but he looked up at you with a playful grin. "I will watch," he agreed before adding, "from here." People were already lining up to begin the dance, and since you didn't want to miss out, you dropped his arm with an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes with a smile.

Before leaving, you held a hand out to Kiri. "Join me," you offered her pleadingly. After a brief hesitation, she grabbed your hand and skipped across the sand to join in the dance. As you all began moving, you demonstrated the fluid motion of the dance to her, your arms moving around you and your body rocking in a motion that imitated the pull of the sea waves.

As you danced, you didn't see the Omatikayan boy staring at you. He had a soft smile on his face as he watched you dancing with his sister, admiring your graceful movements in time with the drums. He almost regretted not following after you to dance, but he enjoyed a better view from where he was sitting. While watching you, he didn't notice his mother's discerning gaze watching him instead.

As the night wore on, the dancing continued. You hardly stopped, only taking the occasional break to catch your breath. Neteyam's eyes always followed you as you dance. You were practically glowing as you moved, and he marveled at how you looked in the flickering light of the fires adorned in your pretty accessories with your new hairstyle.

At one point, Aonung took you to dance. The two of you were facing across from each other in a line. Neteyam stared hard as the two of you mirrored each other's movements in time with the music. You were beaming as you twirled in the sand, and Aonung seemed to reflect your delight. Neteyam watched you dance with him for entire song, unable to tear his eyes away from you, and Neytiri didn't miss it.

Later on, you sat out a song to catch your breath. You wandered over to where the Sullys sat. Tsireya was already seated next to Lo'ak and was explaining the significance of the moves to him. You sat down beside her, breathing heavily from all of your dancing in the sand.

Neteyam moved to sit on the other side of you. "You have not danced once," you scolded him playfully. "Even Lo'ak joined in." It was true. Tsireya had actually managed to convince him to join her in the sand, though he moved awkwardly as he tried imitating the motion of the dance.

"Believe me," he said, "watching that from here was much more enjoyable than joining in." You laughed at his words. "At least he's joining in the celebration," you retorted playfully. Neteyam didn't respond, he just smiled at your joking attitude.

The dance ended, and the participants and onlookers alike laughed and cheered. After a brief respite, the musicians began a new song. You nudged Neteyam's arm gently. "The night is nearly over," you said. "This is your last chance."

He looked at you, and you saw a slow smile spread across his face. Without saying a word, he held his hand out to you. You beamed and took it immediately. Standing up together, you headed over to where the line was forming. "I still don't know the dance," he told you with a grin. You laughed and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go to move across from him. "Just copy what I do," you said.

This particular song was slower, and so it was easier for him to follow along. With every step, every turn, and every move, his eyes stayed intently focused on you. He mirrored your movement almost perfectly, and you smiled as you drew close together. In the dim evening light, his face was illuminated by the fires around you, and his normally yellowish eyes were almost a flame-colored orange

The same flustered feeling you had felt the previous week began fluttering in your chest. Your movements were automatic as you became transfixed on Neteyam. He seemed to be a faster learner than Lo'ak when it came to dancing because his movements were fluid and almost perfectly in time with yours. Watching him perform the Metkayina dances so well made you beam with pride, and you felt as though nobody else was present but the two of you.

The whole time, Neteyam's enchanting smile never wavered, and you hardly realized when the dance had ended. The two of you stood in the sand for a few moments, slightly winded and grinning widely. The sight of the other dancers walking away from the open dancing space pulled you out of your daze finally, and together, you and Neteyam headed back to where his family was sitting and his mother was watching closely.

You sighed happily as you plopped down in the sand besides Tsireya. She nudged you playfully, and you nudged her back with a grin. On your other side, Neteyam sat down with a quiet grunt. "I thought you said it was my last chance," he said cheekily, nodding at the next round of dancers lining up in the sand.

"This dance is for mated couples only," you explained. "It will be over soon. Then, we will sing together before the celebration is finished." He nodded his understanding at you, his eyes fixated on the dancing couples on the sand.

"This is a wonderful tradition," he said earnestly. "I only watched from a distance last year." You followed where his eyes were fixed on the moving figures. "It is one of my favorite nights of the year," you admitted with a sight of contentment. He glanced back at you with a soft smile and said, "I understand why."

The dancing came to an end at that moment, and all of the couples returned to where their groups were seated. Ronal stepped up at the center of the beach with all eyes on her expectantly. After a few moments of quiet, she opened her mouth and sang the opening verse to the Song of Thankfulness.

As her clear, melodic voice rang out, you and the other women joined in the song, repeating the same line. Eventually, the deeper voices of the men joined in the song. There were no instruments used, it was all just a chorus of voices that carried across the beach. You closed your eyes and lifted your face to the stars as you sang, absorbing the moment of peace and happiness with your people.

As the song came to an end, you opened your eyes reluctantly, not wanting the night to end. From the corner of your eye, you could see Neteyam watching you, but when you turned to look at him, his gaze quickly darted away. From your other side, Tsireya moved to stand, and you knew it was time for everyone to retreat back to their homes.

"Good night," you told Neteyam quietly as you began to stand up. He quickly jumped up from his sitting position and offered his hand to you. With a soft smile, you accepted it, and he pulled you up gently from the sand. As you stood up, he held onto your hand for a beat and gazed down at you, the dying fire casting flickering shadows across his face. "Good night," he said finally and let go of your hand.

You missed the feeling of his touch immediately, and you were grateful that it was too dark for him to see your face blushing. You managed to pull your attention away Neteyam and turned to the rest of his family. Lo'ak and Kiri were also standing to their feet to go home. Tuk had fallen asleep long ago and was being carried by her father while Neytiri watched closely as you turned away from Neteyam.

"Good night," you told them with a polite nod. The weariness of dancing was finally affecting you, and you were eager to fall asleep. They all bid you goodnight in return, and you turned and walked back to where your family was waiting.

The Sullys headed back to their own place. After all of their children were tucked away to sleep, Neytiri gave her mate a squeeze on the shoulder and motioned with her head to the entrance of their tent. Understanding her silent request, Jake followed her outside.

Outside of their tent, Neytiri turned to face him. "You need to speak to your son before he does something stupid," she whispered to him in English in case any of the Metkayina were nearby. Jake raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You're gonna have to be more specific," he responded quietly. Neytiri made a disapproving face. "Your eldest," she clarified. "He has grown very fond of the tsakarem girl."

Jake let out a little sigh. He had noticed his son's affection for you as well, but he hadn't really considered it particularly urgent. "What do you want me to do?" He asked. Neytiri stepped closer to him and spoke in a low voice. "He needs to—" she paused to find the right word in English. "He needs to separate from her."

Jake gave her an uncomfortable look. He knew that you had been very kind to all of his children, and he didn't like the idea of pushing you away from his family. Neytiri caught the meaning in his face and turned away from him in mild exasperation. "She is tsakarem," she whispered insistently. "She is spoken for. This can only end badly."

After a moment, Jake's lips pulled upwards in a sly grin. He hummed thoughtfully and walked up behind his mate, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her against his chest. "I think I've heard this story before," he whispered teasingly in her ear. "A young warrior from a strange land being welcomed into a new life, learning new customs, meeting a pretty tsakarem who is spoken for."

Despite herself, Neytiri began smiling softly as Jake nuzzled her cheek affectionately. "In fact, I remember falling in love with you on a night like tonight," he said gently. "It didn't turn out so bad for us, did it?"

She sighed reluctantly. "This is different," she insisted quietly. Jake gave a light chuckle. "How?" He questioned. Neytiri opened her mouth to answer, but she found that anything she could say about her son was almost identical to the situation she had lived through herself, and for the first time, she could truly understand the headache she probably gave her parents all those years ago.

"We are here under uturu," she said finally. "If something happens, they can revoke their shelter, and we will all be in danger again." Jake sighed, knowing that she was right. "I will speak to him," he conceded quietly.

Neytiri nodded without reply. After a moment, she muttered, "He gets it from you. You are a bad influence." Jake chuckled again. "Charm and good looks are the Sully curse," he said as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Neytiri's mouth twisted in a grin at his words. They both stood there for a while with Jake holding her from behind. Even though they didn't say it, they were both reflecting on the beginning of their relationship, him being a strange foreigner and her being betrothed to another man.

Despite the fact that he was going to try to discourage Neteyam from being with you, Jake couldn't help but feel that if his son was anything like him, he wasn't going to listen.

Chapter 3

______

Taglist: @mashiromochi @eywas-heir @kafanizdakicokiyi @plzfeedmebread @peachinsomnia

---

I just wanna say something real quick.

I love all of you so much, and don't get me wrong, I love seeing you guys read my work.

Please don't take this the wrong way.

Why don't you guys reblog? I'm just looking at the like to reblog ratio on my most recent fics and drabbles and it's honestly so disappointing. And it's not just on my fics, I've noticed it on my friends fics too.

Here are two examples:

And yeah, those reblog numbers aren't the lowest but you've gotta keep in mind that a lot of those are me responding to comments or doing timezone reblogs to make sure my friends are seeing it in the first place. So, half those numbers at least is how many people are sharing my work with their friends. Half.

Tumblr doesn't work like twitter or tiktok or any of the other social media platforms where likes get your work circling the community. On tumblr, only reblogs do that.

And why wouldn't you want to share something you enjoyed? Because you'll be embarrassed? Because people might think "oh this person's weird" and unfollow you? If that's what they think of you, then they weren't worth keeping on your page in the first place.

Surround yourself with people and blogs who're into the same things you are. Who's gonna see you share a fic and go "ooo lemme read it too."

Reblogging is how you support authors on this hellsite, and I don't think we're asking for much when we ask you to share our work. You don't even have to put anything in the tags or write a comment if you don't want to - it's okay. Seeing you share it is more than enough. (Though we do love seeing your reactions)

Please. Support your authors. Show them some love. Share their work.

something something your friends howling with laughter when you send “john mactavish — the better john” back to the table he shares with a bunch of wide shouldered sorts with a careless “sorry, i prefer my “johns” with experience” after a cursory up-and-down over his body.

those same friends staring slack-jawed when an absolute bear of a man drops heavily into the seat opposite you with a “heard you like a john with experience, s’that right, sweetheart?”

meanwhile you’re staring at the grey hair in his beard and at his temples with something approaching stars in your eyes

---

I hate it here is for all the girlies who grew up reading books as a precocious child and dreamt of worlds that exist only in a sophisticated imagination, for the girls who live in delusions

best bucky fic ive read period

•°∘∗ treacherous ∗∘°•

summary: you’re asking yourself why he keeps coming back, he’s asking himself why you keep letting him in. it’s 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 (it’s 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 ✌😬.

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 he’d sometimes earn from a hard day’s work, always finding your reactions humorous.

Each time he would smile and say, “You’ll get used to it one day, kid.”

That day didn’t come while he was alive and it hadn’t come now.

Opening your front door to the man you’d 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.

“Ma’am,” He greets in a gruff tone. “I hate to bother you, but I find myself in need of some assistance…” 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 it’s 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. “What do you need?”

Grunting as he lowers himself into a chair at your small, rectangular table, he answers “Rag, needle, thread, and alcohol - whiskey preferably.”

Removing his hat, he places it on the tabletop.

Okay, he’s done this before.

Focusing on the task he’s 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 there’s 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 he’s lifted his shirt, providing an unobstructed view of his injury.

There’s so much…

“Bullet just grazed me.” The man observes quietly to himself. “Still made one hell of a mess though.” He grumbles, finally lifting his head.

Blood. There’s so much blood and the skin has -

A deep, rough laugh pulls you from your spiralling, making you swallow thickly.

“It’s alright darlin’.” There’s a lighter edge to his tone. “Just put the stuff on the table, I’ve got it.”

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. It’s clearly been some time since he last bathed or even tidied his appearance. His hair is long and tangled. You think it’s naturally a dark brown but it’s hard to be certain. A thick, wild beard hides most of his mouth and half his face, while a sharp nose -

Oh god.

You’ve seen the wanted posters hanging around town. Heard the stories that accompanied them.

Bucky Barnes.

The famed outlaw, responsible for some of the decade’s 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 that’s something you really don’t want to know.

“Ma always said I could never be a tailor.” The man - Bucky mutters, eyeing his truthfully pitiful stitching. “But it’ll do.”

Placing the blood soaked rag on the table, along with the needle and leftover thread, Bucky’s 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.

“I’m not lookin’ for any trouble ma’am.”

“Says the man famous for trouble.” You can’t help but retort.

Did I seriously just smart mouth him?

To your shock Bucky merely grins, his teeth surprisingly white and clean. “That’s fair, but a pretty girl’s house isn’t exactly where I make my trouble.” Morphing his grin into a smirk, he amends “Unless I’m asked.”

Your skin heats at the insinuation.

“I won’t be asking.” You state firmly.

“Then you’ve got nothin’ to fear.” Bucky assures, his mouth returning to its serious line underneath his beard.

He regards you carefully and it’s only then that you notice his eyes are the most electrifying blue.

“I best be on my way.”

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 “You can stay.”

Something tells you the last time he bathed was also the last time he had a decent meal or rest. He wouldn’t be finding any of those things nearby, especially in his condition.

It’s a miracle he even found you.

The downward tilt of Bucky’s eyebrows is the only indication of his confusion as he looks up from the hat in his hands. “Are you -”

“Just for the night and no funny business.”

Bucky’s 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. “I left my guns with my horse. You can keep ‘em with you if it’ll make you feel better.” Meeting your gaze once more, his deep voice rumbles “But I promise you won’t need ‘em.”

How much was an outlaw’s 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 “It’s alright.”

You had your father’s shotgun should it come to that and you were familiar with the weapon.

“I’ll show you the bathroom.” You declare, striding out of the kitchen. “If you’re gonna stay, you’re gonna be clean.”

Behind you, Bucky responds with a - dare you say, amused “Yes ma’am.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Your eyes fall shut as you lean back against the front door, sucking in a deep breath of the crisp afternoon air.

There’s an outlaw in my bathroom.

Re-opening your eyes at that insane truth, you realise you’re not alone.

Bucky’s 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 Bucky’s 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.

It’s been years since you smelt the once common scent and it has memories flickering behind your eyes as you realise you’ve 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.

“Smells good.”

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.

It’s no wonder he took so long. Bucky had found good use in a pair of scissors and your father’s razor.

His wild, untamed beard has been reduced to stubble, highlighting a handsome jawline. Bucky’s 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 father’s old clothes, it’s hard to find him as intimidating. 

Your father had been a stout man, so you knew the clothes wouldn’t 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.

“I can wash your clothes if you like.” You offer, realising you’ve been staring.

“No need darlin’,” Bucky responds smoothly “Washed them with me and hung ‘em over the porch.”

You hadn’t even heard the front door open or close.

“Kid, that wanderin’ mind a’yours is gonna get you in trouble one day.”

Nodding, you gesture to the table. “Well take a seat, dinner’s ready.”

Dishing out two bowls of stew, you place one in front of him, along with a basket of bread rolls.

“Can’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal.” Bucky divulges, taking the spoon you offer him.

Sitting in the chair opposite him, you say “There’s plenty more if you want it.”

The two of you eat in silence, Bucky at a much faster pace. You’re 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. 

“Is it just you here?” Bucky asks after polishing off another bread roll, ending the quiet stretch.

In any other circumstance you’d think twice before giving an honest answer, but it’s pointless to lie to him now.

“Yes, it used to be my father and I, but he died two years ago.”

The pain his loss caused wasn’t something you could describe.

Your mother passed away when you were only four, taken by illness. If it weren’t for the two photographs your father had of her, you wouldn’t 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. You’d 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. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

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 father’s passing stopped affecting you heavily some time ago, but it seems the turmoil of today’s events has brought your pain back to the surface.

“I’ll get your bed ready.” You announce, leaving the kitchen.

He’ll stay in the spare room - your father’s old room. It’s 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 bedroom’s 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.

You’re slipping a cover over the pillow when Bucky’s figure appears in the doorway.

“Have enough to eat?”

You doubt there’s any leftovers.

“More than, your cookin’s somethin’ else.” He declares.

A smile escapes before you can stop it.

You’ve always loved cooking and it’s been years since you’ve had someone to feed or receive compliments from.

Dropping the pillow, you look over at Bucky and find his gaze fixated on the bed.

“I’ll leave you be.” 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 “Goodnight Bucky.”

You’re startled by how quickly his dark blue eyes jump to you. Then you realise it’s the first time you’ve spoken his name.

“What’s your name, darlin’?”

A pause.

Softly, you tell him your name.

Bucky’s deep voice repeats it, adding “Thank you, for everything.”

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.

You’re not sure why it pleases you so much.

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

When you wake you’re not as well rested as you’d 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?

“Mornin’,” Bucky greets as you approach. Cracking two eggs into a pan, he answers your unspoken question. “Figured I at least owed ya breakfast.”

You weren’t going to argue that.

Taking a seat at the table, you ask “How did you sleep?”

Peering at you over his shoulder, Bucky replies “Like a rock.”

“And your wound?”

“Healin’ just fine.”

Bucky’s 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.

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You walk back to the house with Bucky on your right and his horse - Alpine, as he’d introduced, on his other side.

He doesn’t mount the mare until you’ve reached the steps that lead up to your front porch. When he does you’re stunned by the ease and swiftness his large body executes the movement with.

“Thanks again darlin’.” Bucky nods, touching the brim of his weathered black hat. “For your cookin’ especially.”

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 you’ve met, your mouth takes on a mind of its own. “Well, if you ever find yourself this way again maybe I’ll cook you something else.”

The edges of his lips turn up in a smirk at your offer. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a light press of his leg into Alpine’s side, the white beauty starts moving forward. You watch as she builds her momentum until she’s galloping, her and her rider becoming nothing more than a dot on the horizon.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 7 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

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 you’d 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 you’ve opened the door, Bucky smiles in a way you can only describe as mischievous.

“Hi darlin’.”

You’re relieved to find not one speck of blood on him, just dirt.

Bucky’s maintained his shorter hairstyle but his beard has thickened, though not to the wild state it’d been in when you first met. 

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 “Bathroom.”

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 doesn’t 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.

Bucky’s 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 she’d occupied last time.

After stopping by Chester’s stall to dote on the horse, you head back to the house and start making dinner.

It’s 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 “How ya been darlin’?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you answer with a simple “Good.”

You’re caught off guard when Bucky appears on your right, the smell of the soap he just used invading your senses.

Standing side by side, it’s 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 Bucky’s sudden closeness. However, it slows as you spy him inhaling the contents of the pot simmering on the stove in front of you.

“‘M starvin’.” He quietly groans.

Smiling, you roll your eyes and tell him “It’ll be done soon.” Pointing to a cupboard at the end of the kitchen you add “There’s whiskey in there if you want some.”

When Bucky doesn’t move or say anything in response you look up at him again, startled to find him staring at you intently.

“You a saint or somethin’ darlin’?”

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.

“What’s saintlike about offering someone whiskey? And to an outlaw no less.”

As the last part slips from your mouth, you tense.

“You’re always talkin’ first and thinkin’ later, kid.”

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 you’re paying attention to that sort of thing.

“Isn’t that what saints do? Help lost souls?” He drawls.

“You’re lost?” You retort sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at him.

That earns a chuckle from him as he shakes his head. “Nah, I’m always right where I wanna be.”

Bucky’s midnight blue gaze hasn’t left you once, while yours constantly shifts away, like it does now. “And that’s here instead of somewhere nice?”

“Nice costs money.”

Your eyes dart up to his for no less than a second before flitting away.

This time you’re 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 Bucky’s index finger under your chin, nudging your head up until you meet his gaze.

“Don’t start holdin’ your tongue now darlin’.” Bucky states in a low tone, dropping his hand.

Your heart is racing again, but you’re not sure if it’s from fear or... something else.

Swallowing thickly, you manage to voice “I thought you’d have plenty of money.”

“Sometimes I do.”

“Sometimes?”

Really can’t help myself, can I?

The left side of Bucky’s mouth twitches. “It’s not always about the money,” He answers vaguely.

You frown, “Then what’s it about?”

At last, Bucky smirks. “Curious thing, ain’t ya?”

The comment flusters you.

“Why do you wanna know?” Bucky deflects, leaning in until his face is only inches from yours. “Thinkin’ about joinin’ the life darlin’?”

“No thank you.” 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 he’s gone, strolling across the kitchen for the whiskey you offered hours ago - or so it feels, and that’s the end of that.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷

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.

It’s well into the morning so you dress quickly, curious to see if Bucky’s still here, maybe even making breakfast again, or if he’s 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.

“Not an early riser, are you darlin’?” Bucky drawls conversationally, not looking up from the page he’s reading.

You frown, crossing your arms. “It’s morning, isn’t it?”

He’s right though, you’re 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, it’s not that observation that has you feeling defensive.

“Ten o’clock is hardly mornin’, you’ve missed half the day.” There’s nothing in his tone to suggest it, but you know he’s teasing.

It goes straight over your head however, as you’re too focused on what’s in his hands.

“Enjoying the book?” You snark at him.

Bucky smirks.

Oh yeah, he’s definitely winding me up on purpose.

“Tell me, are all your books so -” Bucky breaks off in a chuckle as you pluck the worn book out of his hands and press it to your chest. “So... romantic?”

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.

“I like their humour.” 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. “I’ll go warm up breakfast.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 5 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

You’re not sure what shocks you more when you open the front door. The fact that Bucky is clean, or the fact that he’s holding flowers.

Flowers.

It’s 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.

They’re a little wilted from the long ride here, but still vibrant and pretty.

Resting a shoulder against the doorframe, inadvertently bringing him closer, Bucky’s deep voice teases “What’s the matter darlin’? No man ever bring you flowers before?”

Dragging your gaze up from the bouquet and narrowing it, you jab “I’m just wondering if they’re stolen.”

Bucky only chuckles at your bite, like you expect him to.

You’re not sure what to make of that realisation - that you expect things from him.

Holding the flowers out to you, he states “They’re paid for darlin’, I promise.”

There he goes again, making another promise.

Kept his last one, didn’t he?

Your facade doesn’t last long either way, the corners of your mouth turning upwards as you accept the flowers, your fingers brushing over Bucky’s 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, Bucky’s bending forward and ducking his head until his dark blue eyes are level with yours. “Was the money technically mine...”

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 you’d never heard before, every word he spoke seeming to rumble out of him.

He just didn’t act dangerous.

Outlaws weren’t giving, they didn’t tease, or smile, or laugh, and they certainly didn’t let some girl smart mouth them.

However, you weren’t 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 shouldn’t drive you mad, it shouldn’t 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 Bucky’s hand waves in front of your face.

Looking up from the spot on the porch you’d been staring at but not actually seeing as you lost yourself in your thoughts, you meet Bucky’s blue eyes below his furrowed brow.

“You really get lost in there, don’t ya darlin’?”

Thoughts still scattered, you absentmindedly respond “I don’t mean to.”

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 Bucky’s gaze following you as he takes his usual seat at the dining table, but it doesn’t 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 Bucky’s hand holding onto the bottom of your dress.

“What are you -” You start, flabbergasted until you actually focus on the section Bucky has grabbed.

“What happened?” 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. There’s a scratch to match it along the back of your right leg, which you assume Bucky must have seen.

You can’t read any emotion on his face, but you sense that he’s not pleased.

Strange.

“I was trying to fix the curtain rod in your - the spare room, but the wooden crate I was using broke and I fell.”

Fell seems like an exaggeration.

There wasn’t 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, you’re more concerned about how you almost referred to the spare room as Bucky’s.

When did it become his room?

Bucky frowns at you but doesn’t 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 he’s already in the spare room, assessing the window.

You’d 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.

“What else?”

You stare at him for a second before pointing to the wardrobe behind you. “The right door’s a little loose.”

Diligently, he rounds the bed to the wardrobe and opens the right door, tightening the screws in the top hinge.

“I thought it was you the first time I saw it.” Bucky says abruptly, nodding to the bedside table closest to him where two photographs sit.

Both are of your mother.

In one she’s holding you as a child - you’re no more than two years old, on her lap with a smile. In the other she’s by herself and younger, about the age you are now.

“I once told my dad that I wished I could remember what she looked like, he told me to look in the mirror.”

He hadn’t 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.

“He said that was the only thing we had in common,” Grinning, you drop your voice to a faux whisper as you repeat your father’s loving words “She was a horrid cook and complete trouble maker.”

Bucky grins at that, giving a slight shake of his head as he swings the mended wardrobe door shut. “I dunno darlin’, I think you’re plenty of trouble.”

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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, he’s 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, you’re not alarmed when you meet Bucky’s gaze.

He’s always watching you.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

Bucky was right of course, no man has ever given you flowers before.

“My pleasure darlin’.” His deep voice rumbles.

You’re not sure why you suddenly feel so warm.

“And for fixing those things for me.”

It’s not like you don’t do anything for him in return, but you still want him to know you appreciate the help.

“I’ll fix anythin’ you need,” Bucky states a little rougher “Just don’t go hurtin’ yourself again.”

I didn’t 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.

“See you in the morning.” You say as he passes you.

“You mean afternoon?” Bucky calls back, his tone lighter.

This time you do huff, letting out a quiet “Shut up.”

His chuckle echoing down the hall lets you know you were heard.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 4 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

The fourth time you open your front door to Bucky Barnes is... different from the others.

Nothing’s wrong per se, but it’s not right either.

Bucky’s the dirtiest you’ve ever seen him. In fact, you’re 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.

“Darlin’.” The word is spoken bluntly and you instantly know he’s 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 you’ve 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, you’re 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. She’s filthy.

Every other visit her white coat has gleamed, leaving you no doubt that Bucky cared for her deeply. Yet, like her owner, it’s 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 Bucky’s stiff demeanour is replaced with concern.

You were in town only yesterday and hadn’t heard of any new incidents involving Bucky.

Not that you were keeping an ear out.

“What happened, huh?” You ask Alpine, leading her to the barn.

She simply whinnies in response.

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You’ve 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.

Bucky’s 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 Alpine’s stall, stocking it with fresh food and water while Bucky dries her. He’s quietly murmuring to the horse, but you can’t hear his words over the sound of Alpine chewing hay.

When Bucky’s finished he leads Alpine into the stall, closing and locking the gate behind her.

It’s almost humorous. Alpine and Bucky are clean but now you’re not. Your dress is soaked and covered in mud.

The walk back to the house is taken in silence.

“I’ll start dinner after I clean up.” You tell Bucky once you’re 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, you’re not really sure what you’re hoping it will do.

As you move around the kitchen you feel Bucky’s 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 Bucky’s stare.

He doesn’t shift his gaze and neither do you.

“What happened?” You ask quietly.

You don’t expect an answer and Bucky’s continued silence tells you there won’t 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.

“You should have some water.” You state, reaching for the bottle.

Before your hand can wrap around it, it’s grabbed by one of Bucky’s, the quick manoeuvre drawing your gaze.

He doesn’t 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 he’s pressing his forehead into your open palm.

The action stuns you and for a moment you don’t 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 Bucky’s shoulders boosts your confidence and you take a step forward, raising your right hand to join your left.

Bucky’s head remains bowed, his face hidden from you.

Taking another step forward to stand more comfortably, you release a small noise of surprise when Bucky’s 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 Bucky’s 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, don’t 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.

“‘M going to bed.” Bucky states once he’s finished.

His first sentence since arriving.

“Okay,” You reply softly.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷

You don’t expect to find Bucky making breakfast.

Walking into the kitchen, you had been prepared to discover that Bucky had left long before you woke. You’re glad he hasn’t.

He doesn’t 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 Bucky’s still clearly dealing with whatever, his mood has at least improved.

Predictably, it’s 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 Alpine’s hooves reaches your ears and you watch as Bucky leads the white beauty to you, stopping her by your side.

“You gonna be okay?”

You’re 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-you’d-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.

“Just fine darlin’.” 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 they’re gone.

You can still feel the touch of his lips as you watch their figures fade.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 2 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

Town was a good hour’s 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 store’s 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 didn’t 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.

“They’ve been robbin’ properties all over, startin’ fires and roughin’ up any fella in their way, they even -”

Billy never finished that sentence, but his averted gaze told you how it ended.

“Dunno why I’m worrin’ ya with this girl, God himself couldn’t find ya all the way out there.”

The declaration wasn’t 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 father’s shotgun the minute you return home.

Some days it’s hard to forget that you’re 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.

You’re sluggish the whole day, tired and on edge.

When afternoon rolls around you’ve cleaned the entire house in an attempt to distract yourself and for the most part, it’s worked.

That is until you hear the unmistakable sound of horse hooves in the distance.

Fear strikes your heart in a way you’ve 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.

You’re putting the shotgun back in its place under your bed when you hear his heavy footsteps on the porch, followed by three loud knocks.

There’s no denying the way you immediately feel... safe.

“Bucky,” You greet a little breathlessly as you open the front door.

“Hi darlin’.” He grins, eyes softening just slightly.

It’s hard to picture the sombre man you invited inside only two weeks ago.

“Back so soon?” 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 that’s regained its usual intensity, he responds “You don’t mind, do ya?”

No, never.

Smiling, you answer “Luckily for you, I’m in a gracious mood.”

The tease lands better this time.

Humming, Bucky agrees “Lucky me.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷

After dinner it wasn’t 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 don’t ruminate on it long enough to let it.

It’s late morning, maybe even afternoon when you eventually wake. The heat in your room makes that much obvious.

Bucky doesn’t 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 don’t want him to leave you.

Unable to voice your plea, you take your time eating, dragging out the inevitable until you’re standing and taking your plate to the sink.

When you don’t hear the familiar sounds of Bucky collecting his things, you peek over your shoulder and see he’s still seated at the dining table.

Your gaze meets his.

Bucky answers the question in your eyes. “I’m supposed to meet my - some friends east of here in a couple of days.” You don’t miss his slip of tongue. “If I wouldn’t be overstayin’ -”

“No.” You interject much too quickly. “No, you wouldn’t be.”

He nods and stands up from the table, gesturing to the front of the house. “Your porch needs fixin’.”

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.

“I know, I’ve got new wood to replace it with.”

You had it delivered out a couple of weeks ago. You just hadn’t 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 Chester’s 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.

That’s 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 he’s brought out the last plank, creating a large pile.

“I can help.” 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.

“Darlin’, go inside and relax.” He instructs, bending down to pick up a hammer from the crate. “Or,” He adds, straightening and strolling over to you, forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. “Sit out here and give me somethin’ pretty to look at.”

Your stomach drops as heat floods your face.

Managing a weak scoff, you avert your eyes and spin around, quickly retreating into the house.

Bucky’s hearty laugh follows you inside.

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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 Bucky’s been outside for around three hours, you mark the page you’re 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.

Bucky’s 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.

Bucky’s 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.

You’ve only seen peeks of the hair that covers his chest, but now it’s on full display and you can’t help but sweep your gaze down, over his firm stomach, to another patch of hair that leads to -

“Made you something to eat.” You declare, lifting the tray.

It only shakes a little.

Striding over to you, Bucky grins “Thank you darlin’.”

His large, rough hands brush over yours as he takes the tray and warmth pools in your stomach.

“You’ve done a lot.” You observe, desperate to look at anything except him.

All of the old boards have been ripped up and Bucky’s 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.

“Should be done by sundown.”

It’s... 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.

You’ll admit that. To yourself at least.

The sound of Bucky’s glass hitting the tray draws your attention. It shouldn’t surprise you that he’s already finished.

“You keep eating that fast and your stomach will end you before anyone else gets the chance.” You comment with a raised eyebrow as you wander over to him.

Bucky smirks as he stands, handing you the tray. “Darlin’, if your cookin’ is what takes me out, I’ll die a happy man.”

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As the sun begins to dip behind the horizon, the front door opens.

You look up from where you’re curled into one of the armchairs with a book in your hands.

Bucky’s dark blue eyes roam over you for a prolonged moment before he husks out “Come take a look darlin’.”

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.

“Wow,” You gush “It looks amazing Bucky, thank you.”

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.

“That wood’s no good for your fireplace so I’ll burn it tonight, that way it’s not takin’ up any space.” 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 hadn’t escaped your notice that Bucky was wearing it when he arrived yesterday, like he had on his last visit.

You hadn’t thought much about it at the time and you don’t now, too mesmerised by him.

There’s a sense of delight in watching him while his attention is focused elsewhere.

Suddenly you think you understand why he watches you.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that darlin’.”

Bucky’s abrupt words startle you as he turns and captures your gaze.

Like what?

You can’t find the courage to ask him.

Shifting your eyes, you act as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what kind of name is Bucky?”

His chuckle makes you brave enough to look at him once more.

“It’s a nickname.” Bucky answers.

Watching him as he slowly wanders towards you, you press “What’s your real name then?”

Bucky comes to a stop in front of you and for the first time you’re 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.

“James Buchannan Barnes.”

The confession is gentle, meaningful.

“James,” You repeat softly, giving a small smile. “Now that’s a name.”

Vivid blue eyes - dark and electric, gaze upon you with something you can’t name as you unexpectedly feel Bucky’s knuckles brushing against your cheek.

“Say it again,” 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 it’s a miracle you remain upright, clutching at the porch railing.

Before you can utter his name again, you hear it.

It’s faint, but it still manages to draw your attention.

There’s 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 can’t 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.

“Get inside and stay there.” Bucky orders sharply.

Just like that, the side of himself he’d just been presenting to you disappears, replaced by -

“Now.” 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 he’s about to fall asleep.

You pick up on a faint noise and realise that Bucky’s 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.

“Oi!”

Bucky’s whistling fades out, the sudden silence unsettling as he straightens in the chair, hat still tilted.

“Can I help you?” 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.

“You’re not too bright, are ya fella?”

The insult makes you wince.

Bucky laughs.

It’s a sound you should find familiar for all the times you’ve managed to raise one out of him, but there’s nothing familiar about it - it’s dark and without humour.

Maybe it should scare you.

It doesn’t.

The men dumbly laugh with him, the one on the far left announcing “We’re here to rob you fool!”

Laughter rings out louder from them, the gang appearing to relax in this odd situation they’ve found themselves in.

“Yeah,” Another one echoes “Everythin’ ya got.”

Not to be left out, the only one yet to speak adds “That means any ladies too.”

Bucky’s laughter abruptly ceases and the leader notices immediately, unlike his three cackling morons.

“Ya gonna give us trouble fella?” He asks warily, the others falling silent at the sound of his voice.

There’s a pause before Bucky answers “Depends.”

“On what?” A moron sneers, clearly unimpressed.

“On whether or not you leave.” Bucky states, voice low and menacing. “‘Cos you make one move towards this house and the last thing any of you will see is the bullet I put between your eyes.”

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, “They’re not even out!”

God they’re dumb.

“No,” Bucky agrees, his tone clearly revealing his dwindling patience. “But I’ve been told I got pretty fast hands.”

Knocking his hat back from his face, Bucky’s hands drop to rest on the handles of his guns.

“Bucky Barnes.” A moron gapes, looking like he just wet himself.

The atmosphere completely shifts amongst the gang, their leader’s eyes widening as he moves his hand away from his shotgun, raising it in the air instead.

“Mister Barnes, we ain’t mean no disrespect sir.” He quickly appeases.

Heads bounce up and down as the others hurriedly agree, watching Bucky fearfully.

You can’t stop the smile that pulls at your lips.

“Well boys, I’m not too bright,”

Oh, he’s good.

“So remind me what it was I just told y’all to do.”

Instead of actually doing it, one of the morons stutters out “Uh, well, you told us to leave sir.”

There’s a lull, Bucky’s frustration palpable, and a part of you believes he’s going to shoot them. In fact, you’re about to turn from the window to avoid the sight.

Before you can however, Bucky speaks again, his voice harsh. “So?”

Finally they gain an ounce of sense and urge their horses to move.

“Thank you sir.” The leader gasps gratefully, turning his horse around.

He’s smart enough to know he’s escaped a bullet, but not smart enough to see how his words irk Bucky further.

It doesn’t matter now. He and his morons are already racing away like the devil himself is behind them.

Maybe he is.

Bucky doesn’t 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.

You’re 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 “That was...”

Trailing off, you frown as you realise you don’t 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 weren’t.

The realisation hits you then.

If you had been alone like you should’ve been, those men, those four men would have -

“Hey,” Bucky’s deep voice cuts through the terror settling in your chest - the terror he must see on your face. “You’re okay darlin’.”

But...

You’re vaguely aware of Bucky striding over to you.

“If you weren’t here -”

“I was.” Bucky cuts in, his voice leaving no room for argument. Grasping your chin, he tilts your head up until you meet his gaze. “I was here and that’s all that matters.”

The declaration is spoken gruffly, but the tender stroke of his thumb over your chin is comforting - the action belonging to your Bucky.

Your?

“Okay.” You reply quietly, after a few minutes have passed and his words have sunk in.

“You’re safe,” Bucky assures. “You’re safe with me.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It’s late at night, the moon high in the sky when you find yourself standing on the porch.

You can’t sleep, your mind refusing to be quiet.

Too much happened today. Too many emotions were brought to the surface, bringing with them revelations you’d been trying hard to ignore.

Ignoring them now seemed impossible.

You’ve 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 wasn’t 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 don’t know how to get him out.

You don’t know if you want to get him out.

“Everythin’ alright darlin’?”

For a second you think you’ve imagined Bucky’s voice during your ruminating, but his presence beside you is real.

“Yeah,” You answer softly. “Was just looking at the stars.”

It was one of the reasons you came out here.

Humming, Bucky leans against the railing to your right, peering up. “There’s no better sight to fall asleep to.”

You remember him once mentioning that most of his nights were spent on the ground in the great nothingness.

“I’m sure,” You reply. “But I think I’d miss my bed every once in a while.”

Bucky lets out a faint chuckle.

There’s 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.

“You drive me crazy like this.” He murmurs, almost to himself. “You drive me crazy all the time,” He amends “But especially like this.”

Like what?

You don’t have to find the courage to ask this time.

“Standin’ in your nightgown, smellin’ like lavender,” Bucky admits freely, repeating “Drives me crazy.”

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.

“James...” You respond softly, not sure what to say.

“I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since we met. Every day, you’re my first and last thought. Always wonderin’ if you’re havin’ a good day, if you’re safe, if you’re thinkin’ ‘bout me.” He shifts closer to you, ducking his head until you’re eye level. “Wonderin’ what your mouth tastes like, how your skin would feel under my hands, what kind of sounds you’d make for me.”

Your breathing grows short and heavy as he leans in so his mouth is only an inch away.

“Gonna let me find out darlin’?” Bucky whispers against your lips.

“Yes.” Breathless and desperate, you add “Please.”

Desperate to be touched - loved, by him.

A thought you’ll come back to another day.

Bucky’s mouth claims yours gently, his lips softer than you imagined as they press against yours, his beard grazing your skin.

You’re tentative in your inexperience, but soon you’re 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, Bucky’s hands slip behind your body to grasp your bottom, making you gasp as he lifts you against him.

Securing your legs around Bucky’s 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 you’re 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 it’s 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 you’re hit with the vulnerability of being completely bared to Bucky.

“No darlin’,” He husks out roughly, grasping your wrists and holding your arms still as his heated gaze peruses your body. “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

The fervour Bucky speaks with has you weak.

Pulling you to him, Bucky’s 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.

Bucky’s 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 Bucky’s 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.

There’s no way he doesn’t already know, yet you still find yourself needing to say “I... I’ve never...”

“I know darlin’,” Bucky soothes. “I’m gonna go nice and slow. Make you feel so good, I promise.”

You release his wrist.

Bucky’s 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.

“Gonna treat you s’good, sweet girl.” He whispers as he breaks away, moving down your body.

He’s never called you that before.

Say it again.

You’re 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 you’re 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, you’re 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 don’t 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...

You’ve 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 don’t recognise your own voice.

“That’s it,” Bucky praises, licking your clit. “Keep makin’ those noises for me sweet girl.”

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 he’s pushing three of his fingers in and out of you.

You’re loud, making noises foreign to you as he licks, pushes, and sucks. It’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s...

“I’ve got you darlin’, come on, come for me.”

With one final suck on your clit, your body tenses and then snaps.

You shout out in your pleasure, tugging on the strands of Bucky’s hair as he keeps licking, watching you explode.

It’s 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.

He’s...

Subconsciously, you press your legs together again.

Bucky tsk’s, his hands sliding under your knees and pulling them apart. “Sweet girl, what did I tell you?”

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 don’t think they’re supposed to be that big. Your hand wouldn’t even be able to fit around it, so how was it supposed to fit in you?

“Like whatcha see darlin’?” You hear the smirk in his rough tone before you look up and see it.

Flustered, you mumble out a breathless “It’s big.”

Bucky groans deeply, like he’s in pain, and swoops down to kiss you, dominating your mouth.

“Don’t worry sweet girl,” He whispers against your lips. “It’ll fit in your little pussy.”

Shivering at his wicked tongue, your eyes dart down to look at it again.

“Can I touch it?”

Bucky grunts, watching you from underneath his lashes. “S’all yours darlin’.”

Timidly, you reach down between your bodies until you can wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

You were right, your hand doesn’t fit around it.

It’s 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.

Bucky’s forehead drops onto yours, his breathing heavy.

A flick of your eyes upwards shows you that Bucky’s 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 Bucky’s hands shoots down to grab your wrist.

You look up and meet his open eyes.

Pulling your hand off his cock, Bucky husks “Won’t last if you keep doin’ that sweet girl.”

The statement thrills you.

Bucky’s 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.

“You tell me when darlin’.” Bucky pants above you, unmoving.

A few minutes pass and when you feel like you’ve adjusted as much as you can, you say “Okay, just...”

“I’ll go slow sweet girl.” 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. You’re 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 “Darlin’, do you -”

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.

“There you go sweet girl,” He husks. “That feel good darlin’?”

“Yes.” Your hands wind in his hair, bringing his face down to yours for a desperate kiss as Bucky continues his slow thrusts.

Something’s clawing at your stomach, wanton. You need more.

Your right hand untangles from Bucky’s 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 “Faster.” You don’t know how you know that’s what you need, but you do. “Harder, please.” You plead in a lustful tone.

You haven’t 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 Bucky’s control for a moment and in an almost uncontrollable action his hips slam up into yours as he grunts “Fuck darlin’.”

The powerful thrust claws a breathy whine of shock out of you.

“Gonna kill me, aren’t ya sweet girl?” 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 Bucky’s back while your left grips his hair tighter.

“Look at me.” 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.

“James,” You whimper, the sensations building within you.

“Fuck.” He thrusts a bit deeper, pushes a bit harder, making you mewl. “I know, I know darlin’, gonna come for me again, aren’t ya?”

He gives another deep thrust, the force pushing you slightly up the bed.

It feels so good. You’re so close, you’re right there...

“Say my name sweet girl,” Bucky groans, rubbing at your clit. “Say my name when I make you come.”

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.

Bucky’s 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.

“You okay darlin’?” He whispers.

A drowsy, satisfied nod is all you can manage.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷

You’re surrounded by warmth when you blink awake and it takes you a moment to realise the source isn’t the sunlight streaming into your room, but Bucky’s body underneath yours.

If heaven was a feeling this had to be close.

“Mornin’ darlin’.” Bucky’s voice is raspier, a clear sign he’s not long woken.

Tilting your head up from where it rests on his bare chest, you meet Bucky’s gentle gaze and give a small smile, quietly returning “Morning.”

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.

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling back.

Images of last night rush back to you, flooding your body with heat as you answer honestly. “A little sore, but good.”

Humming, Bucky runs his left hand up and down your side. “Just good?”

You duck away from his burning gaze, making him laugh.

“Still shy after last night darlin’?” He questions, though it comes across more like a statement.

Regardless, Bucky doesn’t 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 Bucky’s 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 “Already need you again sweet girl.”

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. “But I gotta let you recover first before I ruin you all over again, don’t I darlin’?”

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 “I’ll get breakfast started.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

“When do you have to meet your friends?” You ask Bucky as he takes your plate and sets it with his own in the sink.

“Whatcha mean darlin’?”

“You said you were waiting to meet them.” You remind him, recalling the conversation you had yesterday.

Yesterday?

It felt like a lifetime ago now.

Bucky’s back is still to you and his silence makes you frown. “You’re... not meeting them?” 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, Bucky’s 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 “I heard there was a new gang causin’ problems ‘round these parts.”

That’s all he says, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

Your heartbeat quickens at the possible implication of his words.

“So...” 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.

“So I needed to make sure my sweet girl was safe,” He whispers, raising his other hand “And that she stayed that way.” Brushing a gentle finger over your cheek, Bucky finishes “I’ve got nowhere else to be darlin’.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 6 DAYS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

For six days you’re in a world of your own, where only you and Bucky exist.

You knew it was only a matter of time, but that doesn’t 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 don’t 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, you’re certain.

“You sure? The law’s been gettin’ closer than I like.” An unfamiliar male voice states.

“We’ve been plannin’ this for too damn long to back out now.” Is Bucky’s reply.

Sucking in a breath, you know you really shouldn’t 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 Bucky’s the first time he knocked on your door.

You know you’ve seen his wanted posters, but his name eludes you.

“Darlin’,” Bucky crooks a finger at you, urging you over to him. “This is Steve, we’ve been friends since we were kids.”

Steve.

You could recall the name at the bottom of the posters now - Steve Rogers.

“Hello,” You greet shyly, offering your name as Bucky’s 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 it’s okay.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Steve declares with a secretive smile. “I’m sorry for barging in.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you?” Bucky grumbles at the same time, making Steve chuckle.

This one laughs too.

“I’ll give you two a moment.” Steve appeases, standing up and settling a worn brown hat on his head.

You realise he’s only wearing socks and find it oddly thoughtful that he took his boots off before coming in.

“We’ll have to get acquainted some other time.” Steve remarks, and by the way Bucky’s grip tightens you gather he’s only saying it to be a menace, especially when he adds “Maybe you can cook me somethin’ too.”

“Fuck off.” Bucky growls, but Steve’s 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 he’s thoroughly reduced your mind to empty space, Bucky pulls back and orders “Don’t you dare cook him or any other man anything, ever.”

“James.” You sigh, smiling.

“You won’t like what happens if you do darlin’.” He promises in a darker tone.

The thrill that shoots up your spine suggests that maybe you would.

Regardless, you playfully huff “If you insist.”

“I do.” Bucky grunts before kissing you again.

When you break apart, the mood turns solemn.

“You have to go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah darlin’, I gotta go.”

Forcing a smile, you whisper “Okay,” as if you have any say in the matter.

Rubbing his nose against yours, Bucky soothes “I’ll be back darlin’, like always.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 3 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

Sighing, you dry the plate in your hands and eye the dishes you still have left. You probably would’ve finished the mundane task by now if you didn’t move so slow while daydreaming.

You spent most of today in the barn, completing chores. It wasn’t 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 can’t 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.

“Don’t stop on my account darlin’.” 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. “Go on.”

A shiver races down your spine.

This isn’t 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 Bucky’s deep inhale as the fabric pools at your feet.

“Come here.”

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. He’s a little dirty, but you can’t complain since you are too.

Bucky grabs your waist as soon as you’re 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 “I’ve missed you.”

You’re 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. “Smell s’good.”

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 don’t even realise you’ve started rocking against his hard length under you until both his hands seize your hips, halting your movements.

Raising his head, Bucky taunts “Desperate for me darlin’? Where’d my sweet, shy girl go?”

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 “Maybe my girl’s not so good, huh?”

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.

“That’s alright darlin’, ‘cos I plan on doin’ bad, bad things to you.” 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 didn’t feel so good, you’d be embarrassed at your quick climax.

Growling, Bucky stands while you’re still reeling in pleasure and carries you to the bed, manoeuvring your compliant body until you’re on your knees, face down.

He’s never had you like this before.

The sound of Bucky removing his belt has your hands gripping the sheets.

“Can’t wait any longer darlin’.” He grunts, shoving his trousers to the floor before grabbing your hips. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this little pussy every day, dyin’ to feel it wrapped ‘round me again.”

That’s 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 didn’t realise how much you missed this.

How badly you’ve been craving it.

“That’s it.” He purrs, your walls clenching around him. “Fuck.”

Pulling out until just the tip remains, Bucky surges back in.

You whine again, clawing at the sheets beneath you.

“Oh, you are a good girl, aren’t ya darlin’?” Bucky thrusts into you, pitching your whole body forward as he bends down and husks in your ear, “‘Cos you’re gonna take everythin’ I give ya.”

The way he’s talking is hurtling you towards the edge again.

You don’t respond - you can’t, but Bucky’s 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 Bucky’s 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 “You’re squeezin’ the life outta me sweet girl.”

Bucky’s fingers are as unforgiving as his cock as they rub tight circles on your clit, bringing you to that point.

“Come.” He growls, leaning over you to wrap his large body around yours as his fingers bully your bud. “Now.”

You’re helpless to his demand.

“James!” 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.

You’re 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.

“Keep those eyes open sweet girl,” He whispers. “I’m not done with you yet.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷ THE NEXT DAY ⊷⊷⊷⊷

You wake wrapped in Bucky’s 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 can’t 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 it’s suddenly snagged between his teeth, making you gasp then laugh.

Bucky’s eyes blink open and lock onto yours as he releases your finger.

“Morning,” You smile softly.

“Mornin’ darlin’.” His raspy voice after waking up is a sound you’ll never tire of. “What you doin’ up so early?”

Huffing at his teasing words, you sit up and move until you’re straddling his firm stomach, both your hands pressed against his chest.

“It’s not that early,” You glare playfully.

Cupping your hips, Bucky smirks “I just know how much my girl likes her sleep.”

My girl.

Lowering until your nose bumps his, you respond “I like spending time with you more.”

Bucky gives a quiet groan, his hands gliding up to cup your face and pull you down further until your mouths connect. It’s a slow kiss, every stroke of his tongue deliberate as he savours the taste of you.

He doesn’t let you go far when you break away for air, his nose prodding yours as he whispers “I have to go.”

“You just got back.” You can’t help but protest, eyebrows furrowing.

Bucky sighs, “I know darlin’.”

Rolling the two of you over so he can hover above you instead, Bucky’s forearms settle on either side of your head as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I got a... job to do,” Bucky explains vaguely. “But, when I come back it’ll be for a good while.”

You mull his words over for a moment before whispering “Promise?”

“Promise.”

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.

“How ‘bout I get breakfast started?” Bucky suggests.

It’s at that moment, in the warmth and safety of your bed - of Bucky, in the little world you’ve started to create together that you realise you love him.

That you have for quite some time.

It’s 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 don’t think men like Bucky Barnes can do love.

So instead you say “That sounds great.”

You’ll take everything you can from him before he leaves, knowing his absence will be even more palpable this time around with your realisation, and you’ll wait patiently until he comes back and gives you more.

⊷⊷⊷⊷ 2 WEEKS LATER ⊷⊷⊷⊷

Securing Chester’s 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.

“Hurry up or we’ll miss it!” 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 store’s small porch, intent on asking Billy what all the fuss is about.

A piece of paper stuck to the front door informs you he’s not inside. The messily written ‘be back soon’ only fuels your curiosity.

Striding back down the steps, you join the people making their way to the town centre.

It’s 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. You’ll 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.

Don’t be stupid.

Fear turns your blood cold.

It can’t be him.

You’re 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 you’ve 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.

You’re not sure if it’s 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 can’t be. It can’t.

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 -

You’re 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 don’t stop until you’ve 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.

“Darlin’,” Bucky speaks like the wind’s just been knocked out of him, his blue eyes wide.

“James what are you - they’re -”

You can’t speak. You can’t breathe.

This was Bucky Barnes, the famous outlaw. He didn’t get caught and he certainly didn’t die.

“You promised.” You gasp out, eyes itching with tears “You -”

“I’m so sorry baby.” Bucky’s voice strains in his effort to speak softly and you hate it.

As much as you hate that you can’t give a second thought to his sweetest term of endearment for you yet.

“Don’t -”

Regaining their wits, the deputies around you spring into action, one of them grabbing your arms from behind and pulling you backwards.

“Hey!”

“Don’t touch her!” 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 it’s your only lifeline.

“Please James,” You plead, as if he has any say in this. “I love you, please.”

You should’ve told him. You should’ve told him that morning.

“Listen to me baby,” Bucky implores, his deep voice gentle like you know it can be with you - not soft. “I want you to know how much I love you, that you’ve given a meanin’ to my life that I had no right to expect, that no one can ever take from me.”

“James.” 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.

“You’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me.” Bucky declares, lips curling as his blue eyes admire you.

When the deputy grabs hold of you this time there’s no chance of you breaking out of his tight hold even if you had the strength to try - which you don’t.

Your body is limp, weak, and shattered as you’re dragged away from the only man you’ve ever loved. The only man you’ll ever love.

“It’s alright darlin’,” Bucky insists over his shoulder as he’s pushed up the stairs, his gaze unwavering. “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

You’re 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 what’s about to happen next.

“Bucky Barnes...” A big, well dressed man addresses him before reading out his sentence.

They’re going to kill him.

Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth as the reality sinks in.

He’s going to die.

Only watching you - always watching you, Bucky’s mouth opens.

You can’t hear what he says, but you make out the words.

“Don’t watch.”

“Please.”

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?

You’re barely aware of anything other than the affliction raging inside you, so you don’t know how you even hear it over the jeering crowd, but you do - a low whistle.

It shouldn’t 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 he’s 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 that’s 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.

---

EXACTLY!!!! i absolutely love how you said this

nah since marvel is trending again I’m going to say it again louder for the people in back — canon steve rogers would never have chosen an “idyllic 1950s white pickett fence life” 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. I’m not sure there was ever a time pre-super soldier serum where he didn’t have a black eye. he could put the shield down all he wanted but he could never retire from being steve rogers — someone who never once turned a blind eye, who never once wanted a “reward” for his work, who never once abandoned his friends. this isn’t 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 “it’s tempting to want to live in the past. it’s familiar, it’s comfortable. but it’s where fossils come from”

pen pal simon - original post

every day after work, you found yourself sat at your desk attempting to write back a response to the soldier who referred to himself as ‘ghost’. crumpled up stationary surrounded your desk space, along with different types of pens as you obsessed over your handwriting. if one letter of your penmanship looked wrong, the paper would become another ball added to the collection of half written letters that contained slightly different, if not the same, wording in response to the thank you letter from ghost.

the simple questions he asked to get to know you suddenly felt like the hardest questions to answer, as if you were being graded on the facts about yourself. was he going to find your hobbies boring? maybe your hobbies were boring the more you read your response. the easiest question to answer was regarding how long you had been doing the care packages - a few years since one of your friends had a significant other that joined the military. stories often mixed with people who received packages and cards from family members frequently, but the ones where some received little to none are the ones that made you upset. so, you had decided to explain that to ghost and it was probably the easiest response of them all to write out. not single moment did the pen leave the paper for you to collect your thoughts or how to word your answer.

but then, you continued to answer the questions he asked you, and in return you asked him similar or different ones. again, you weren’t positive he would reply this time around, but you figured you’d still return the gesture of asking him questions as well. and when you finished writing it all, reading through it god only knows how many times for errors, you finally slipped it into an envelope. this time, no ‘treats’ were included, instead you had opted to ask him if he had any favorites, that way if he did end up writing you back then you could buy him what he preferred.

and after you mailed out the letter, you pushed the thought of it to the side to try and forget about it. but, you couldn’t deny every time you arrived home and checked the mail you were secretly hoping there was a response. but then a few weeks went by and there really was no response waiting mixed in with your other mail.

then after almost two months, after a shit day at work, you didn’t even think twice as you grabbed the mail and walked into your home. going through the motions of your routine - showering, cooking dinner and anything else you had to take care of, you finally sat at the counter towards the end of the night to sort through the mail. a small card was tucked between a bunch of other trash mail, your eyes immediately recognizing the handwriting. quickly, you opened up the envelope and sure enough, that same notebook paper was tucked into it, this time three pieces of paper unfolded in your hands. 

..it’s been quite hectic over where i’m currently at, so sorry for the lack of my responding…

...i’m a bit upset of the lack of treats, it definitely beats what we have to eat sometimes.

the reason you do the packages is quite sweet. is your friends’ partner still alive? you use the past tense when you speak of them. sorry if that is rude to ask.

you read every word of the letter, not once, but twice. and he didn’t just read your response to his, he took notice of the small details. you didn’t even realize you had used the past tense, but he wasn’t wrong in his assumption either when he thought they might have passed. it was like reading a full blown conversation he had to himself in his head; the way before or after some sentences, he would write out interjections. some sentences were followed by parentheses where he made his own little comment as well about what he had just written.

again, i hope you forgive my delayed response. hope it doesn’t stop you from writing back. don’t always have the time, but promise i’ll get back to you. maybe in your next letter you can send me a picture of yourself, i think it would be nice to put a face to the name that signs off on these. i can’t do the same, but i’ll find a way to make up for that. ‘til the next letter, ghost.

and while you didn’t get started writing your response that night, you did make your way to your room with a smile on your face. excitement was already brewing about what you would say in your response and the next anticipated response he would give back, even if he did take a bit to respond.

---

JDAHFSDHFEGHF I LOVE THIS IS LITERALLY THE CUTEST THING EVER

okay so this is a request (bare with me i’ve never done this) BUT

so imagine it’s the final battle from the first movie and tsu’tey is shot but navi!reader happens to be in the woods because she wanted to be helpful to the clan and stumbles upon tsu’tey and helps heal him but he passes out before he can get her name but like love at first sight type beat

so fast forward he is healed and walking around the clan and he tells jake and neytiri about her but they don’t know who he is talking about and BOOM just one day he sees reader and like falls inlove with her even more because she is so helpful with the clan and mo’at loves reader (sorry if this is too long i’ve never done this and i’ve just been thinking about this for ages)

hi my love! thank you so much for the request; i absolutely loved this idea!! i had to change a couple of details; i hope you enjoy xx

i'm tsu'tey

pairing: tsu’tey x fem na’vi reader warnings: angst, fluff, detailed injury, blood word count: 1.2k

tsu'tey lay on the forest floor as he groaned out in agony, looking down at his extensive wounds. dread began to set in as he realised he was alone; and if he did not get medical attention right away, he wouldn't make it. he tried to slow his rapid breathing as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the pain.

'okay… okay…' he muttered to himself as he tried to reposition himself; causing him to scream out in pain. after what felt like an eternity, he managed to position himself up against a rock. he never thought he would be afraid of death, but his instincts began to kick in as the severity of the situation drowned him. he spat at the ground as he watched his crimson blood soak into the dirt; his vision beginning to falter. but suddenly, he heard footsteps running towards him over the slight ringing in his ears.

seeing the olo'eyktan in such a state made your heart sink; you had always admired tsu'tey from the shadows. he was extremely strong willed and fierce, and you had always felt safe knowing he was the one leading your clans warriors.

you were suddenly extremely thankful that you had ignored mo'ats orders to stay put. you couldn't just sit by and do nothing while others were out there risking their lives, so you decided to stay close by and aid those who were injured.

you desperately kneeled by tsu'tey as you pulled out your supplies from your pouch; immediately getting to work on fixing up his wounds. even in his dazed state, his eyes widened as his eyes adjusted; his gaze falling on your beautiful face.

then, he realised that he did not know who you were.

he had tried to make it an obligation to know everyone from the clan; and yet he somehow missed you. he had no idea how he could have done such a thing. your beauty mesmerised him. it distracted him from the pain; put him at peace. you placed a healing paste on him as you closed your eyes, pleading to eywa for her assistance in his recovery. your voice was like silk; soft.

'…great mother, heal tsu'tey…' you pleaded. tsu'teys heart fluttered at hearing you speak his name; it rolled off your tongue as if it were meant to be spoken from your lips. with what little strength he had left, he reached his hand to hold yours; looking into your honey eyes.

't- thank y…you.' he spluttered as you felt your heart skip a beat. his eyes were beautiful; they looked right into your soul. but, they soon began to grow drowsy. 'your… y-your… name…' he trailed off as his body betrayed him. as a defence to preserve his energy, tsu'tey passed out against the rock; his hand still holding yours.

it had been a couple of weeks since you had saved tsu'teys life; and you had gone back to being invisible; hiding in the shadows. but, tsu'tey hadn't forgotten. your image was engraved into his mind and he spent every single day searching for you amongst all the other faces.

tsu'tey was sat by the fire of the hometree with jake and neytiri as jake sat back on his elbows.

'are you sure this girl even exists?' jake teased. tsu'tey shook his head in annoyance as he began to grow frustrated. if it wasn't for his healed wounds, he would have actually considered that you may have been an angel that was sent to deliver him to eywa.

'perhaps she is of another clan?' neytiri suggested but tsu'tey shook his head.

'no, she is omatikaya.' he persisted as he groaned. 'i know it.' tsu'tey instinctively glanced toward the entrance of the hometree as something caught his eye. there, floating through the air of the hometree was an atokirina; a woodsprite. tsu'tey followed the spirit with bewildered eyes as it twirled in the air and floated towards the edge of the structure.

'what the…' jake trailed off as he and neytiri also took notice of the seed.

you were stood on the other side of the hometree, talking to se'vi about your day; but she soon lost interest in anything you were saying as her gaze shifted above you. you furrowed your brows as you looked up; wonderment quickly taking over your senses as the beautiful spirit floated above you. you looked back in awe as you instinctively held out a hand; and the seed took refuge in your palm. you blinked back in shock as you looked towards the spirit; other clan members beginning to gawk at you in astonishment. you turned your head around, noticing all the faces staring at you; and you began to feel extremely nervous. you were used to being invisible and yet here you were with an atokirina in the palm of your hand; as if eywa wanted you to be seen.

tsu'tey felt his heart skip a beat as you looked around the room; your heavenly form sending goosebumps down his entire body.

'that's her.' tsu'tey whispered as jake and neytiri looked at one another; sharing a knowing look.

eywa was trying to bring the two of you together.

'go!' neytiri encouraged as tsu'tey scrambled to his feet. he made his way over to you; his eyes never leaving you; afraid you may vanish into thin air if he looked away for even a second.

you noticed him making his way over to you as you suddenly felt extremely small under his gaze. maybe he was angry at you for vanishing after you had healed him; maybe he was angry at you for helping him at all. you turned to se'vi as she looked at you with a wide grin; you had told her all about what had happened that day, and she was convinced that eywa had a plan for the two of you.

after what felt like an eternity, tsu'tey stood in front of you; looking down at you with adoration in his eyes. the atokirina flew up from your palm; dancing between the two of you for a moment before it disappeared from the hometree as quickly as it had appeared. you gulped hard at the sight of tsu'tey standing in front of you; intimidated by his authoritative demeanour. but, you noticed a glint of something in his eye.

'you saved me.' he whispered as you relaxed slightly. his tone was thankful and soft. you nodded with a smile as you bowed your head towards him in an act of respect.

'i did.' you spoke; your voice much smaller than you had intended. tsu'tey reached for your hands; holding them in one of his own as he brought them close to his chest. a deep blush formed on your face as your body began to feel warm; your insides beginning to flutter.

'i'm tsu'tey.' he introduced himself. even though it was clear that you knew exactly who he was, the introduction felt personal. he wasn't introducing himself as tsu'tey the olo'eyktan; or as tsu'tey the warrior. he was introducing himself as tsu'tey. a gentle smile tugged at his lips as he felt a warm feeling in his heart. 'what is your name?'

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