Entombed

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[adrunkskeletonsduck]

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@urmomschocolatemilk | @urdadssideho3

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All synopsis’s written by @compulsivewriter111

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

i love headcanons so much. like those 2020 tiktok anime slideshows people would make about "how this character would act if ___" type headcanons.

yeah i love that shit.

[m0rbidapocalypse]

i was doing some henna for eid the other day (hope everyone that celebrated had a great eid) and i happened to think of ghost, as one does. since he has tattoos, the idea that he wouldn't mind having henna done on his hands/ arms was quite nice to think about.

like i can imagine a younger south asian recruit catching sight of his tattoo sleeve and potentially thinking the same thing, so they muster up the courage to ask to do henna on him one day. he's hesitant at first, but in the end he's like what the hell, sure. they sit down and he watches the recruit do their thing, and he's honestly a little mesmerised with how well they do the intricate patterns. once the stain darkens, he is for a fact taking every chance to admire the work on his skin while it lasts. every time he sees them after that, there's a small hope they'll ask him to do henna again.

[cyberdrream]

you find simon in the parking area of your flat's building, clutching his arm, eyes unfocused and glazed as he stares upwards. you find him covered in his own blood, and filth, a black muscle shirt that's ripped and frayed. that's how he tells everyone how you met, no shame in telling his friends that he was halfway to death when he met you.

"i'm calling 999." you say, firmly, placing a hand on his wrist, one he immediately grabs with some sort of desperation.

you see his army tags, the blood, the wounds, "please, no hospital." and then he falls back limply, and you can't do anything more.

but you can't let him, die.

you wish you could say you had an easier first meeting, and yet you do your best to drag him to the lift, he's too tall and big to carry, and so you drag him by his armpits to your flat on the first floor. he lies on the floor of the lift, and then your carpet once you've dragged him into the living room.

"fuckin' angel she was," he says, smiling as he puts an arm around you when having drinks with the 141, in a pub near hereford, a year later, "pulled me back up to her house with sheer bear strength."

you laugh as you bury into his chest, you know when humans get scared enough, they go beyond their own strengths, which is what you see here.

the days after meeting simon, you don't call it your first meeting, you consider it you finding simon - the days after finding simon are strange. you take three days off your dumb corporate job to nurse a man you've very well never met, back to somewhat health. you wipe his face down as you lay him on the convertible sofa bed, put a warm towel over his head. he breathes with rattles in his chest, rattles that worry you.

you call your friend in her last year of med school for advice, and she shows up anyway with an iv bag and some supplies. supplies to bandage the cuts and wounds, the burns - he must have been in an explosion, there's no other way. running away, concussed, scared. your hands still hover his forehead, feeling for a temperature, even days later.

he opens his eyes on the fifth day. brown eyes, as wide as a doe's that was caught, and then let go.

"simon riley." you know his name, you've been running your thumb over the dog tags for the past odd week, riley, S.J, blood type AB+.

that's when you meet him for the first time. half in love already with the man you've cared for for five days. half in love already with the person who dragged him from a certaind death.

"and such a pretty angel too," he growls, still having an arm wrapped around you all tight, his muscles are tight around you.

"shut up si," you blush, but there's no hate in your words.

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

Its always good to be reminded that my writing is meant to be self indulgent and the point is to write about characters I like the way I understand and see them in the places and scenarios I want to see them in because that’s literally the point of fanfiction.

[nondelphic]

you say "that sentence is grammatically incorrect" i say "it sounds like the internal monologue of a man unraveling in a fluorescent-lit hallway and that’s the point"

[danitoru]

i want what they have

[nondelphic]

writing? oh, i’m definitely writing. in my head. during the most inconvenient times. like in the shower or when i’m about to fall asleep. actual typing? no, no, we don’t do that here.

[dasvidny4]

what does this mean? — neteyam speaks the least english of his siblings, but since you asked, he couldn’t say no, and teaches you a thing or two. tags slangs, kissing, slightly suggestive (?) & obvs lo'ak being an annoying little bro (1.0k wc)

Neteyam knows his father came from the stars—Earth, they call it—and that the words he spoke before even knowing Na’vi had a name: English. He doesn’t hear it all the time, not really, though some sky people wander through their forests and settle quietly among them, murmuring in a tongue he’s only half-familiar with.

He doesn’t spend much time with them though. Most of the English he knows comes from his father, or from Lo’ak and Spider, whose daily routine probably includes tossing out words Neteyam doesn’t know, just to see him chase after them and ask what they mean. Usually it’s something ridiculous. Like how cooked isn’t food and cooking isn’t just preparing a meal. Lo’ak thinks it’s so funny.

And maybe that’s why, when you climbed into his Marui pod one quiet evening, eyes wide like the stars themselves had spilled into them, asking him to teach you English. He couldn’t say no. Not with you looking at him like that.

So he starts with the easy ones.

You sit cross-legged in front of each other, pointing at yourself like a diligent student, mimicking his movements. “Eyes,” he says, and you repeat it, pointing at your own, then giggle when he nods. “Nose,” he says, and you do the same. It’s ridiculous, but fun, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

Then he decides you’re ready to do it on your own. “I think you’re ready, sevin. On your own now.”

You do. Only you don’t point at yourself. You point at him.

Eyes, nose, ears…

Your fingers tap his lips. “Lips,” you say, mock-serious. Then his shoulders. “Shoulders,” with a little teasing tilt of your head. Finally, your hand hovers near his chest. “Heart,” you add, eyes glinting, barely holding back laughter.

Neteyam freezes for half a heartbeat, caught somewhere between amusement and—he won’t admit it—flustered. He tries not to smile too big, but it slips anyway. Just a little. And you catch it immediately, grin widening, satisfied.

“On your own,” he repeats, though the corners of his mouth betray him. “But that works too.”

"At least I know it better now,” you say innocently, like that explains everything.

And he can’t argue with that.

Then comes the hard part. Words that twist your tongue, force your lips into shapes they’re not used to, make your mouth feel like it’s learning a new language on its own (which it actually is).

He leans in. “Jewelry,” he says. His lips move slowly, and you can’t help but stare—really stare—at his mouth, tracking every movement. And he won’t lie: your focus, the intensity in your eyes, makes him giddy. It almost makes him want to forget the lesson altogether.

“Jew…wel…ry,” he repeats.

You try, mimic his shape of lips, your tongue curling awkwardly. “Jew…welr…ree—” You hiss in frustration and lightly smack your own forehead.

“Hey, hey,” he says quickly, stopping your hand before it hits again. His voice is calm, patient, but the little tremor of amusement in it makes your cheeks heat. “It’s okay. Let’s do it again. Together, okay?”

You nod, hum a quick agreement, and repeat after him. His lips move slowly and you follow, mimicking each subtle shift, each careful curl of the tongue.

Finally, you get it. The sound rolls off your tongue just right. You clap your hands together, triumphant. “I did it!”

“That’s good, tìyawn,” he says softly, eyes warm, voice carrying that quiet pride. And before you can even think about it, he leans in and kisses you, just a quick, soft press of lips.

You think: that’s always the best part when he’s teaching you.

Sometimes, you’d ask him words you’d heard from Lo’ak or Spider. He knew they were more fluent, of course, but some words were better left unspoken. He’d stumble through excuses, fumble explanations, and hope you’d forget before he had to actually teach them.

He knew it made him a bad teacher. But what you don’t know won’t hurt you, right?

And then, one lazy afternoon, just idling in the forest while the sun filtered through the leaves, you tilted your head at him and asked, casually, “What does fuck mean?”

He choked on his own saliva. Literally. Heart skipping a beat. He didn’t even have to ask where you’d heard it from. 

A few days later, you were sharpening your arrows, humming softly, and then casually asked, “Can you pass me that knife, bro.”

He froze. Knife in hand. Confused. Slightly exasperated. “…Bro?”

You tilted your head, grinning, waiting. Waiting for him to react like he always did when you learned something on your own.

“Don’t… bro me,” he finally said, voice tight, trying not to smile too much.

Loosened, you teased back, “Lo’ak calls you that, though?”

“Yes,” he admitted, jaw tightening slightly. “But you don’t call me that. Okay?”

Your smile faltered, a little. Face falling.

He noticed immediately. Sighing softly, he crouched beside you. “…Alright,” he said, eyes softening. “I’ll teach you something. Something you can call me, okay?”

He didn’t really get the chance to teach you that when the next day, deeper in the forest, you ended up at the falls. The water rushed around you both, cool and soft against your skin. You sat with your back to him, submerged up to your shoulders, and he leaned over, hands gentle as he washed your hair, careful not to tangle it.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the water run through your fingers, letting him work. Then slowly you turned. Hands on his shoulders, soft smile on your face, eyes catching his in the spray of the falls.

“It’s your turn now,” you said quietly, voice a whisper over the rushing water.

Then a pause, just long enough to make his heart skip. “…Baby.”

And somewhere, buried beneath all the sweetness, the teasing, the giddy warmth—he doesn’t know if he wants to hit his brothers or treat them with extra meat later.

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

Rᴇᴄᴏʟᴏʀᴇᴅ

➜ Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!human!reader

➜ Summary: After a gone wrong adventure through the forest with Neteyam, you wake up injured and unresponsive. With limited time and resources, Neteyam begs the help of Eywa to save you. However in the process, Eywa bestows an unfavorable twist of fate upon you.

➜ Warnings: none(?)

➜ Word Count: 2k

➜ Notes: should I open my requests?

Pᴀʀᴛ 1 | Pᴀʀᴛ 2

Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

The next time you wake up, you're greeted by fluorescent lights and large glass windowpanes. Your body tenses at the unfamiliar setting, your eyes darting between pieces of unfamiliar machinery.  

Your mind beginning to spiral, all the worst case scenarios jumping to the front of your brain. You mustve passed out and gotten taken by the Sky People-   

The muffled sound of a door swinging open and footsteps as they approach closer to the glass, interrupt your thoughts. Your heartbeat picks up, body tensing as you prepare yourself to lunge at whoever's taken you. You hear someone speaking, although their words are muffled by the clear barrier. You listen intently for a moment. 

The voice sounds vaguely familiar to you, and you frown, brows furrowing in confusion. Another moment of you trying to put your finger on who’s voice it is and it hits you.  

Norman!  

You were in the human hospital back at High Camp. Not some twisted RDA facility.  

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body relaxes, muscles loosening. You close your eyes, trying to steady your pounding heart. Your head rests back onto the pillow, it plush body comfortable and soft. You were alive, you were safe.  

A moment later the glass door is pushed open and Norman walks in, Max in tow. 

They’re buried in the screen of the device being held in Norms’ hand. Muttering scientific gibberish. Something about mycelium this, mycelium that.

You just watch quietly, waiting for them to realize you’re awake.  

The longer you look at them, the more confused you get though. Something looked off. They seemed... 

“You guys don't look as small as youusually do.” You blurt suddenly. Frowning as you hear your own voice. 

Weird, your voice didn’t sound the same either. 

Their heads snap up at your voice, eyes widening and mouths opening slightly as if to gasp, but no sound leaves their lips.

Norm stutters, shock written all over his face.  

“Y-you’re up!” He notes, eyes wide as if he was looking at a ghost.

He reaches behind him to tap Max, turning his head quickly and mouthing something you can't make out from where you sit. 

Max nods quickly, almost frantic, and hurriedly leaves the room, his lab coat trailing in the air behind him like a cape.

You nod, tipping your head, still confused.  

“Did you grow or something?” You ask, ignoring his statement of the obvious. How long had you been asleep for?  

“Um no no, I didn't grow you um-” Norm starts, then cuts himself off. His voice sounding unsure as he stumbles over his words. He pauses for a second, searching for the right words.

Your frown deepens as you watch him.

You?  

After a moment he finally speaks again voice steadier as he mutters “It’s easier to just show you...”

He turns his head, eyes raking over the different appliances before his gaze lands on a small mirror lying on a table standing next to the entryway.  

He grabs it, walking towards you and jutting it out so you can take it from him by the handle.  

You reach for it, then pause, blinking at the small pinkish-tan hand that extends towards the mirror as you reach for it. Confusion riddles your mind.

You draw your hand back, then you reach for the mirror again, but the same hand moves to grab it again.  

You stare for a moment, blinking in confusion. Then your face drops, eyes widening as you gasp.  

“No, no, no!” You mutter, panic rushing through you. You snatch the mirror from Norman’s hold, turning the reflective surface towards you and holding it up so you have a clear view of your face.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your eyes beginning to sting, waterline filling with tears as you stare back at the girl in the mirror. 

Your hand comes up to touch your face, and you see the same strange, small hand come to rest on your cheek.  

This wasn't right. This wasn't you. This was a Sky Person, so how could it be that you were controlling her body and feeling her feelings— 

A loud clatter from outside comes, and suddenly a large blue body barling through the doorway and into the small room. Long blue legs staggering to catch the weight they hold, as their owner trys to avoid toppling over Norm who quickly scurries to the corner of the room.  

Your head snaps up, having to crane far up to meet the Na’vis eye.  

“Neteyam.” You breathed, your voice cracking. Hot tears fall from your eyes, leaving a burning trail of heat in their wake. Your hands come up to cover your mouth. You let out an ugly wretched sob.  

“Y/N.” Neteyam reaches for you, his large blue hand moving to cup your face, but you move away, throwing off the soft covers Norm and his scientists had provided you during your recovery.  

“No, dont touch me!” You want to scream the words, yell as loud as you can, but all you can manage are broken mangled sobs.  

You swing your legs over the edge of the hospital bed, sliding down until your tiny feet touch the cool tile ground. You warbled, as you attempted to stand, your new body still unfamiliar to you, and it felt as though you were a baby only just learning to walk for a moment. Neteyam reached out again, a caring attempt to help steady you but you rejected it once more.  

“Woah-be careful. Take it easy sylunag.” He tried to usher you back towards the bed with his kind words and soft touches, but each brush of his skin against yours burned, like molten rock on flesh.  

“Neteyam don't look at me—please—” your voice cracked again as your body wracked with another round of sobs. You took a step back, away from him.  

Your free hand came to wrap around your abdomen, nails digging into the alien skin that was poorly veiled by a paper gown. “I cant—I don't want you seeing me like this—”  

Sympathy shined in his golden eyes. “Y/N-” He began but you couldn't bare the weight of his gaze on you any longer.  

In one swift movement you darted. Running around one of his legs and ducking to avoid being caught by his hand that swooped down in attempt to grab you. One foot after another you ran, weaving through the lab coats and alien machinery until you were met with a heavy metal door.  

You slammed your body into it, recklessly not caring how it would hurt you. Or more over the body you were now in. The force was enough to crack the airtight seal and knock the breath out of your lungs. You didn't give yourself a chance to regain your stamina though. Instead, leaning against the metal frame and continuing attempting to push the door fully open.  

Air. You needed fresh air.  

Another forceful shove into the door, and it burst open. You took off running again.  

Moments later you could hear Neteyam calling after you once again. Hear his heavy steps following behind you as you ran. 

You didn't stop though, you couldn't. You needed to get away. To escape all this. Escape the body you were now in and the way Neteyam would inevitably never love you the same, and parent's judgmental expression. All the eyes that had once looked at you with love, respect, and pride would now undoubtedly look at you with hate and disregard. You were sure of it.  

Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. Neteyam voice grew louder from behind you as he caught up but you weren't ready to stand still yet.  

So, you pushed yourself until your thighs began to burn, and your feet hurt from the rocky grounds, they had yet to become accustomed to. Even after your feet throbbed and your lungs felt like they were going to pop, you pushed yourself to continue further.  

Until finally your body grew too tired to keep up with youth your mind's commands. Your strides becoming sloppy and sluggish. Your feet not lifting quite high enough, dragging just a second to long at the wrong time. Your toes caught on dead vine that lay discarded on the cave floor, throwing you off balance and sending you tumbling onto the rocky ground.  

You yelped, cursing your tiny, weak, and untrained body as you fell, hissing at the way the unforgiving terrain bit at your flesh.  

Behind you, you heard Neteyam’s footsteps slow, his pace easing as he caught up to you, crouching down next to you.  

You turned to look at him, eyes glazed over with tears as they met his. His heart panged in his chest. 

“Y/N...” he started, but his words seemed to fail him. Leaving the two of you in a depressing, dragging silence.  

“Why?” You asked, sounding defeated.  

“I-” Neteyam sighed, taking one of your hands and clasping it in his own, “I’m not sure Y/N. You got hurt, and my grandmother tried everything she could in that moment, but you were injured badly and there wasn't enough time so-” he took a deep breath, willing himself to continue as his own eyes brimmed with fresh tears. 

“We took you to the Spirit Tree. We begged the help of the Eywa.”  

He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the soft skin, “She saved your life yawntu.”  

You stared at your hand in his, and your stomach churned. It looked so small, so out of place there now. Another stream of tears rolled down your face.  

You looked at him enerstly.  

“I would rather she have let me die in her arms.”  

Neteyams hold tightened around your hand, and he pulled you up, cupping your face.  

“Don't say that sylunag.”  

“It would have been a more merciful fate then having to live in alien skin forever. I cannot even connect with my Ikran now, or Eywa-” your breath hitched, “and I will never be able to make Tshyalu with you.”  

Neteyam shook his head, a sad smile turning on his face as he reached behind you, grasping at the long braid that still grew from behind your neck. You had been to preoccupied processing this new change to notice it.  

“No ma yawntu, Eywa would not be that cruel.” Neteyam pulled the braid out, letting the hair at the end fall away to reveal the end of your Kuru, “and look,” his thumb brushed across your cheek gently. “You do not need a mask like all other humans.”  

Your face soured, twisting in disgust at his referral to you as human. He stuttered, choking on his words, scrambling to correct himself.  

“Not that you are actually human-just that you live in a human body now-”  

You choked out a small laugh at his stumbling. Pausing for a moment before another question surfaced in your mind.  

“What about the rest of the clan? And your mother....I cant imagine they will look at me the same.”  

Neteyam shook his head.  

“They will come around.” He assured, bringing your hand up to his lips again to press a kiss to it, “besides,” he smiled again more brightly, more naturally, “this is Eywas path for you. Who are they to question her will?”  

You nodded quietly, letting yourself sit with his words for a moment.  

You brought your hand up in front of your face again, pulling it out of his warm grasp to examine it once more. This time you looked at it thoughtfully.  

“It’ll take some getting used to.” You sighed finally, dropping your hand into your lap and meeting his gaze once more.   

Neteyam assured you gently with a confident shake of his head. His hand came up to stroke your hair, fingers grazing gently through the strands. Treating you as though you were a delicate piece of fine jewelry.  

“Everything will be alright.”  

@cherridile @aonungmybf @aurora-starwars 

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

When ur in public and the writing demons poses you to write but you’re in public

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

Tumblr is genuinely pissing me off w this content label bs on my works

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

Hi hi, how are you?

You can write one from Neteyam x reader, where his girlfriend is Na'vi, just like him, but ends up getting quite sick, so one night, the spirit of the tree decides to save her, but the result is that it turns her into a human. Scared, she wakes up screaming at dawn, and ends up running away, but Neteyam finds her and comforts her, and everything is fine in the end.

Rᴇᴄᴏʟᴏʀᴇᴅ

➜ Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!reader

➜ Summary: After a gone wrong adventure through the forest with Neteyam, you wake up injured and unresponsive. With limited time and resources, Neteyam begs the help of Eywa to save you. However in the process, Eywa bestows an unfavorable twist of fate upon you.

➜ Warnings: none(?)

➜ Word Count: 1k

➜ Notes: put my own little spin on this. Reader doesnt die guys, the fic was js to long so I had to split it in half. So this part is like a prologue. Pt2 gonna be posted tmr

Pᴀʀᴛ 1 | Pᴀʀᴛ 2

Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

You’re not sure what happened, or how you got here.  

All you know now is that the world is a dizzying blur of blue and green. Your head is pounding, your heart beating a million miles a minute. 

Your body feels heavy, your legs numb. 

You try to lift your head, try to look around, try to shake the nauseating vertigo that's blending the green of the forest canopy with the blue of the sky.  

Your efforts are useless; your body like a rock that's been anchored into the earth. Unable to move.  

For a moment you’re stuck staring into the blur of colors and then Neteyam appears in your line of sight.

You try to focus on him, try to get your eyes to focus in on the features of his face, on the gold of his eyes and the deep blue of his hands as one comes up to tilt your head. For a moment it works, you begin to see him in proper vision.

Relief begins to wash over you.  

However it’s gone just as quickly as it comes and he’s back to blurring into a haze of color along with the rest of your surroundings once more.  

Again your efforts are useless.

You make out his mouth moving, opening and closing, repeating a word you cant place. A word you cant hear. You barley recognize his voice. Is he shouting? No he couldn't be, he sounds so far away. 

Maybe he’s being muffled by the river water that's gushing downstream next to me. You reason. 

Or is that the sound the sound of blood rushing in your ears? You’re not sure.  

You’re not really sure about anything right now.  

Then the blurr of him is gone, replaced by another blue blurr. This person is adorned in a red shawl like pieces. You recognize her after a second. Mo’at. 

You like this piece she swears, you know you do, but the yarn like strings of her clothing look more like worms to you then strings at the moment. All hazed into one big blurr of color, lacking any shadow of dimension.  

 Her golden eyes look deep into yours, determination burning in them as her hand comes down to your stomach.  

You feel her hand push down on the hardened muscle. Once. Twice. Three times.  

It doesn't make you feel any better.  

 Then her hand leaves your skin for a moment and she turns away from you. When she faces you again shes clasping something to small for your eyes to focus on in your dreary state. A moment later her hand comes back down and you feel something poke at your skin. Pain ripples through your body at the contact. As if amplified each time the object comes down to touch you again.  

You want to scream.  

Ow.  

Ow.  

Ow. 

You try to tell her to stop—that it hurts—but each time you open your mouth to try to speak you find yourself to weak to get any words out. Your voice fails you and the poking continues, ceasing only after what feels like a eternity.  

More muffled voices and then Mo’at vanishes out of sight.  

The sky shakes in front of your eyes, someone picks you up. Sweeping you off the forest floor and into two sturdy arms. With all your power you crane your neck to look up at who's got you clutched so tightly to their chest. 

You can just barley make out the sharp curve of Neteyams jaw. He’s not looking at you, only forward. Your body shakes as his pace picks up from a light jog to a sprint.  

The world spins, your stomach churns, and your nausea rises. Then, as if it wasn’t all enough, the feeling of something stuck in your throat joins all the other unpleasant sensations.  

You want to know whats happening, where you’re going, why you feel so awful, but you cant think over the worsening headache and the sound of your pounding heart.

The virtogue is getting progressively worse and somehow your vision is to. You desperatley try to keep your eyes open, trying again to focus on Neteyam, and the darkening sky behind him.  

You watch the way his braids swing against his neck as he moves, the beads at the ends clicking together with each step. You watch the hardset of his jaw, and the way he glances down to check on you every couple seconds. Probably making sure you haven't died yet.

Judging by how awful you feel, you’re not sure that's a farfetched prediction.  

When you’re finally put down again, your back does not meet soft dirt and plush undergrowth. Instead you feel hard rock and the press of thin roots against you.

Your eyes blink lazily, looking up to find the tendrils of the spirit tree swaying gently in the wind; their pink glow bright against the Pandora night. 

A seed floats by, right over your eyes. Its white glow that you normally find ethereal is only blinding now. 

You and Neteyam have come here together many times in the past. Your visits while innocent in nature, always end in feverish kisses and needy touches. Unfortunately this visit would not be following that same theme.  

A hand closes around the braid of your kuru, you feel someone pick it up tentively, bring it up to the tree tendril in front of you. A blue hand holds them next to each other carefully; it intertwines with the tree quickly.  

In an instant the pounding of your heart settles, the blood in your ears quiet. Your head no longer hurts and the churning in your stomach ceases. You feel a small smile pulls at your face and your eyes flutter shut.  

Peace at last.  

@cherridile @aonungmybf @aurora-starwars 

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

God bless the TikTok avatar slideshow mfs. They get my writing flow going like no other

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

Just spent 4 hrs on a neteyam fic, 3k words. Yall better like this shi frl 😭

[tinkerbelle05]

Too Slow

Summary: You found that Neteyam was slow. He took his time courting you, even though he was intentional. The elders saw it as respectful, your friends found it swoon worthy, you found it irritating.

CW: Neteyam x Na'vi!reader, Angst, Miscommunication, Self-esteem issues

Part 2: Here

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You watched as a young Na’vi couple was being congratulated at the communal dinner for making tsaheylu with each other. The couple themselves were all smiles and giggles. Their hands were still intertwined, and while they were the focus of the dinner, it was like they were in their own world. It was a beautiful thing, making tsaheylu, mating for life. Binding yourself together with one person for all eternity, practically becoming one person. 

It was something that all young Na’vis looked forward to. To find their person. The person who understands you in a way that no one else can or will. Understanding you in a way that possibly only the Great Mother herself can. 

You watched as others swarmed to them, loud in their applause of the couple. The communal fire was bright and high, a mixture of oranges and yellows. It added to the lively atmosphere that communal dinners usually had, with everyone singing and dancing around the fire. Stuffing their faces with whatever game the hunters of the clan managed to bring home that day. 

Everyone was happy. Everyone was joyous. All expect you, of course.

You wanted to be happy for the couple and join in on the celebration, but your chest ached with jealousy. Though you were considerate enough to hang in the background, settling yourself on a large tree branch in the shadows. Your fingers gripped the solid branch underneath you in a poor attempt at self-soothing. You didn’t want anyone to see your sulking expression and put a damper on everyone else’s mood. 

But your chest was heavy with anger, and your head felt dizzy with too many thoughts rambling inside of it. The mixture of emotions was too much for you, and all you could do was tear up if you continued to think about Neteyam. 

You watched from your perched position on the branch as he moved throughout the area, his head turning in different directions. Bright yellow eyes scanning the place in search of you, probably. But you were always good at hiding from people. 

You tried to distract yourself from the situation and wiped the tears from your eyes. You counted the shining stars in the vast darkness of the sky, but that bore you quickly. You tried to get excited for tomorrow, when you would venture out with your ikran into the cool sky. But all that brought you back to was him. Neteyam. You two would often fly your ikrans together whenever there was free time. 

The two of you had been courting once you both realized the depth of the feelings you had for each other. He was everything you could have ever wanted in a mate, and above all else, he was familiar to you. From your childhood, on the cusp of being a young adult, Neteyam has always been the same. 

Your mother says that he reminded her of the forest we called home. Protective, but mysterious. He was taller than you, so when he wrapped his arms around, he covered you entirely. Like the way the trees hid you with their towering height, bathing you in their shadows. You never really knew what he was thinking unless you chose to tell you. 

A constant and steady presence in your life that you knew you would want for the rest of it. So why was he dragging his feet in making tsaheylu with you?

 He was going painfully slow with the process. Despite your anger with him, you could never bring yourself to actually talk about it with Neteyam. You saw how hard he worked and how much he wanted to live up to his father’s legacy. You didn’t want to annoy him with this issue of yours. It’d be fine, and you would simply endure. 

Neteyam would have to mate with you soon enough. Right? Right.

“There she is!” You heard a loud voice call out to you and watched as your friends made their way to your spot.  

Like everyone else, they sported bright smiles and were carrying loads of food. The scent of roasted arrow deer mixed with herbs and spices filled the small space that your friends made with their bodies as they sat with you.

You thanked them for the food and grabbed the plate before digging in. You were still quiet while they talked; their conversation flowed over you. The usual gossip and talks of who’s courting who was replaced with the recent mating. 

It annoyed you greatly because what was the point? You isolated yourself just to have this follow you like a plague or a kid who decided you were their favorite for the day. You curled into yourself, wrapping your arms around your body. Your long black hair covered you, basically acting like a shield. Your friends noticed your silence, and one of them asked you about it. Seyta was never one to let this go.

The girl scooted closer to you, her chestpiece tassels swayed with her movement, “What’s wrong? I know something is the matter, so don’t even try.”

You sighed deeply when you heard her poking question and continued chewing on the meat. You didn’t want to answer the question, especially with the weight of your other friends’ eyes on you. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to anxiety. You knew, like Seyta, they weren’t going to let this go either. 

“It’s…it’s Neteyam. I’m just annoyed with him, that’s all,” you answered vaguely and picked at your food on your plate. You didn’t want to talk about this, not really. You wanted to keep these thoughts inward, deeply hidden in your mind. 

But, well, you never really did get what you wanted.

They leaned in closer, their frowns and pouty lips transformed into glares and curled up lips. Endless questions bombarded you about why you were mad, what did he do, and what he didn’t do. It was a struggle to keep up with the continuous stream of questions that were starting to sound like accusations. 

“What, is he courting a different girl?” Seyta asked, her eyes locked onto yours, and suddenly you felt exposed. 

Like you were naked out in broad daylight for all to see. But the anger at the suggestion overrode that vulnerability.  

“No!” You hissed at her, your ears flattened to the skull of your head. The food you were picking at was dropped on the tree branch and long forgotten. “Neteyam would never do that to me, he is loyal–”

“Then why,” she leaned in even closer, “are you sulking over him?”

“Because he hasn’t mated with me!” You snapped and scowled at her with barred teeth.

You watched as Seyta’s face fell when she heard your words, “Oh..that would make sense. But you shouldn’t worry. Neteyam cares for you very much. There must be a good reason.”

The others had chimed in with their own responses supporting Seyta’s interpretation of Neteyam’s reluctance to mate with you. 

One of them nodded and rubbed your hitched shoulders, “Remember, he has like a ton of pressure on him!”

“Yeah, you know how he is. He probably wants to make sure that things go well. Don’t worry, you guys are literally perfect for each other.” Another one took your hands in her own with a gentle smile. 

You found yourself nodding along with their reasoning because it did make sense, and that is something that Neteyam would do. He was always a patient person, not one to needlessly rush into situations. 

You remembered how long it took him to begin courting you. He had a whole speech prepared for your family about why he wanted you to be his mate and what a perfect match you two would be.

But that word, “perfect”. It was a common phrase that others in the clan would use for you and Neteyam. He would be the perfect Olo’eyktan, and you would be the perfect Tsahik. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

But what if you stopped being perfect? What if you didn’t notice? What if no one else noticed but Neteyam? What if you changed in such a small but fundamental way? What if—

“We need to talk.”

----

Tags: @kajsjajjahshs

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[tinkerbelle05]

Crushing On You

Lo’ak had liked you since the very moment he saw you. Standing on the hot sand, the sun breaking down on his back, and then there was you.

Walking out of the water, your cyan skin blending into the waves that you were leaving behind. Your light eyes staring at him and his family, almost like studying them.

Then gold eyes met blue, and Lo’ak was hooked.

It started off small, the crush. Just simple attraction, that’s all. At least that’s what Lo’ak would tell himself.

But then he found himself staring at her. Watching her go about daily life in the Metkayina. Mixing up herbs with her mother under the older woman’s expert guidance, helping the Metkayina kids free-diver with seemingly eternal patience, and you singing at communal dinners in that chest-piece made out of seashells….

Typically, Lo’ak wouldn’t find any of these actions interesting, but with you doing it? He could watch for hours and never get bored.

Despite this, it’d be hard to strike up any conversation with you. Tsireya was the one that taught Lo’ak and his siblings the ways of the Metkayina.

You were everywhere at once in the clan but somehow elusive to Lo’ak. It was weird. He desperately wanted to talk to you, but what would he even say. What would the conversation even be about, he doesn’t know. But he still wants your attention, your pretty light eyes on him.

So he starts leaving little things for you. Shiny things he found while swimming once he gets a hang on this whole deep diving thing. Lo’ak doesn’t know where you’ll be at any given moment, so he leaves it in places he hopes you’ll be.

The next he sees you, you have woven the tiny shells into your chest piece. Wearing them open and proudly.

He swore that the next time your eyes met his, they lingered on him for a second longer before turning away from him. That felt purposefully, even though you never approached him. Maybe you were shy like him? No matter.

He’d continued doing this. Giving you little trinkets, flowers, whatever he could find that he hoped you liked.

Eventually, you would be waiting for him. In the spots where he would drop off the gifts.

“I suspected it was you,” your voice was smooth and low. You turned fully towards him and took the flower that was in his hand, twirling it between your fingers “Thank you, for the gifts.”

Lo’ak could only smile at her, the words died right in his throat. He could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks and your soft chuckle confirmed it.

“You are cute when you blush.” You compliment him further. “I look forward to when you learn to speak to me, Lo’ak.” You left him with a fleeting kiss on the cheek.

He didn’t know how to quite make sense of this. These feelings were new, you were new. But he knew one thing, and that he liked you. So, so much.

----

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