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Requests are always open,
but it can be a bit slow on my side, with me currently studying, but PLEASE still send em through!
Promise I will get to them!
AVATAR:
Neteyam
♡ Playground - You and the Sullys step away from the village for a while. You find comfort in forgetting duty, playing like kids. When Neteyam wants to prove he really is a mighty warrior, you decide to prove him wrong.
♡ Birthday Gift - It's Neteyam's 18th birthday, and you've finally decided this was the day you were going to confess your not-so-tiny crush on him. When you finally gathered up the courage, you didn't know you had an audience.
♡ Sugary - Modern AU - Just a little drabble about him admitting his feelings and talking to his siblings and friends about asking you out!
- part 2 - You and Neteyam have liked each other for a long time, but both are
too scared to say anything. MAYBE NOT THIS TIME???
♡ Salty - Neteyam was hardly one to grab what he wanted. You being among the things he wished he could.
♡ Shy Around You - No one would call you shy. Except for Neteyam. If only he knew that he was the reason why.
Summary: No one would call you shy. Except for Neteyam. If only he knew that he was the reason why.
warnings: Pining, fluff, yearning
word count: 2k words
You were never really shy. Sure, you were awkward sometimes, and the elders could be intimidating, but that didn't mean you still didn't radiate.
If you asked Kiri, she would say you laughed without hiding it, spoke too quickly, and moved like the world belonged to you. And in a way, the elders would agree that the forest did; there was never doubt about your place in it.
If you asked Lo'ak, he'd say you were the dumb to his dumber. Like when you're trying to win arguments against him without knowing you're actually arguing the same point.
And little Tuk? She adored you the way a kenten adored a tree. Literally. She always clung to you, sitting in your lap or hanging on your arms like you were something soft and safe.
There is nothing hesitant about you. Nothing uncertain. Nothing obviously shy.
Except for Neteyam. He was the one presence on Pandora that made you crawl back into your shell without hesitation. And it wasn't because you didn't like him. It was the opposite.
You liked him too much. The way his muscles flexed beneath his skin when he passed you anything, or the way his eyes watched you too closely.
The worst part? It happens without warning.
One moment, everything is normal. You’re sitting beside Kiri and Lo’ak, by a small pond you used to fish in as kids, absentmindedly picking at a piece of fruit while their conversation drifts lazily around you. It's a space that's more familiar than the back of your hand.
You bring another fruit to your mouth, taking a bite as the juice drips down your chin.
And then you see him.
Neteyam.
That’s all it takes.
Your focus fractures, your eyes widen at the blue of his skin, and your throat swallows the last of the fruit you were chewing. But not well.
You choke.
It’s immediate and violent, your body jerking forward as your throat tightens. Your eyes start stinging, and you are sure it is more from the embarrassment than from the pain.
You try to breathe, you really do. But each attempt was worse than the last, especially when you could see his figure walking closer to yours.
“Oh my—” Kiri starts, her voice already edged with recognition.
Lo’ak, on the other hand, just snorts. Typical.
“See? I didn’t even say anything this time—” Lo'ak raising both his hands at you as if he was presenting something of importance.
You cough harder, which only proves his point.
Then footsteps.
Fast. Too fast.
“Are you okay?”
Neteyam's voice was suddenly close behind you, sharp with concern, and before he gave you a proper chance to recover, you felt a warm hand on your back.
He drops down to his knees beside you without hesitation, his hand now moving in circles atop your shoulder blades as he tried desperately to help you with every shake of your shoulders.
“Hey, hey, breathe. Slow down—”
He moves his hand towards your lower back.
Which only makes it worse.
A sort of squeal-like cough escapes your lips. Panic rising from the spot his hand was placed. He was too close.
This was actually the worst moment of your life.
You push yourself up abruptly, stumbling away before you can think better of it, half-blind with tears as you make your way toward the nearest bush like it might somehow save you from this situation.
Behind you, you can hear it—
Lo’ak laughing. Loud. Unapologetic.
Kiri’s softer giggles follow right after.
“She does this every time!” Lo’ak calls out, far too pleased with himself.
“I do not—” you try to protest, but it dissolves into another fit of coughing before you can finish.
Neteyam stands shortly away from you.
Of course he is.
Concerned. Confused. Completely unaware that he is the problem.
"Are you alright? Can I get you some water?" he asks again, stepping closer to you once more, hovering behind you now as his hands gently linger towards you like he doesn't know whether to step closer or give you the space you were clearly running away for.
You nod quickly. The coughs finally subsiding.
“Fine,” you manage, voice wrecked and unconvincing. “I’m—fine.”
Lo’ak laughs harder.
“Yeah,” he says, not even trying to hold it in, “she looks great.”
You turn to scowl at him.
Making sure to not look at Neteyam on the way. You had finally started breathing again; you weren't going to risk it now.
It only gets worse after that.
You would think that after publicly choking on a piece of fruit in front of the eldest Sully boy and then hiding in a bush was the lowest you would get. However, Eywa didn't pity you the way you thought; there was much more room to go lower.
Training had always been easy for you. The sounds of the forest relaxed you, and the air seemed to listen to you when you let the arrows go. You were always proud of it. You were good at this. It’s instinctive, almost effortless.
Which is why it was so painfully obvious to the rest of the Sullys when your positioning started to falter.
You're standing with the Sullys, your bow in your hand, eyes fixed on your target.
Then Neteyam walks in with his usual confident demeanor. His shoulder's strong, his abdomen tight as if he'd just finished his own training.
Focus.
And suddenly everything is wrong.
Your grip slips slightly on your bow; the string pulls too tightly. Your stance feels uneven, your shoulders stiffen. Everything felt wrong and worst of all -
your focus slips.
Not to the target.
To him.
He's smiling right at you. You stiffen once again, the arrowing leaving your grip before you allowed it to. You jump back slightly in surprise, your cheeks turning purple.
The shot goes wide, dangerously wide.
It slices past the target and far too close to Lo’ak’s arm, hitting the tree behind him.
“Hey—!” he jerks back instantly, staring at you. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Your stomach drops.
“I—no, I—” you start, but the words tangle before they can form into anything that could possibly make sense.
Tuk steps forward, her small face scrunched with genuine concern. “Your aim is kinda off today,” she says, tilting her head slightly in amusement and in that classic Sully way. Her big eyes looking up at you as if you didn't almost kill her brother.
“Is it because Neteyam’s here?”
Silence.
You go completely still.
“—Tuk,” you say, far too quickly, far too sharply.
Lo’ak laughs.
Loud. Immediate. Completely unrestrained.
Kiri follows, softer but no less knowing, her amusement quieter but somehow worse, like she’s been expecting this all along.
Your cheeks flush furiously in a deeper purple hue. You huff as you go, moving towards the tree where Lo'ak is, to grab the arrow you failed to shoot properly. That awfully familiar feeling settling in your chest as Lo'ak smirks at you.
“I’m fine,” you mutter, even though no one asked. “My aim is fine.”
Lo’ak grins, entirely unconvinced. “Yeah? Because it looked like you were aiming for me.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You definitely were.”
“Maybe I should've been!” you snap, the frustration slipping through before you can stop it—which, of course, only makes him laugh harder.
And Neteyam?
Neteyam stands amused at your lashing out at his younger brother.
His gaze shifts between you, Lo’ak, and Tuk, but not confused. Like he has no need to piece everything together.
You turn back around to leave, to head back to the village, hoping that Mo'at or Neytiri needed help and would take you away from this.
And there the eldest Sully stands, hands crossed in front of his chest, smiling at you.
Now he’s closer, and he’s looking at you like that, and now your brain does that awful, useless thing where it just stops working entirely.
You look down immediately as you make your way past them. You hated the way you always did. It was easy to talk to everyone else, but something about him always made everything seem worse, your palms sweatier and your heart faster.
Behind you, the laughter lingers.
Lo’ak’s, loud and relentless. Kiri’s, softer but no less knowing. Tuk’s voice, whispering something that definitely does not help.
And Neteyam still standing there, still watching you go.
After gratefully helping Neytiri with the evening meal, you and the Sully kids sat around the fire, each enjoying their meals while you focused on every bite, trying so hard to swallow properly.
You sat beside Kiri and Lo'ak as Tuk and Neteyam sat opposite you, deep in conversation about whatever Tuk had done that day.
Your focus falters when you hear the youngest Sully brother whine Neteyams name in disgust.
"Bro, stop staring, it's gross!" he scoffs.
"I am not staring."
You lift your gaze to the brothers, just as curious as Kiri about their conversation. Tuk, however, seems to know exactly what's going on.
"Neteyam told me that he thinks y/n is pretty," she states to the circle as she continues to bite into the skewer in her small hands.
You laugh. Not because you agree, but because the idea is so absurd that you couldn't even take it seriously. While the rest of the Sullys sit quietly, staring at Tuk.
Neteyam shrugs his shoulders. "She's right," he says as he mimics the youngest and takes a bite of his food too.
You stop.
Completely.
“…what?”
"Yeah! He told mom and dad, too!" Tuk smiled like this information wasn't brand new to you.
“When?” you manage, your voice thinner than you’d like.
“Just before,” she shrugs. “He said you’re pretty.”
You stare at him.
You are not prepared for this conversation.
His posture is relaxed as he watches you, his mouth curving into a smile that shows off his white fangs. No hesitation. No awkwardness. No attempt to soften it or take it back. Just simple, quiet certainty.
Your thoughts scatter instantly, dissolving into something incoherent and completely useless. You open your mouth, close it again, trying to form a sentence—
“I—what—why would you—”
He tilts his head, just slightly, like he genuinely doesn’t understand why this is confusing.
“Because you are.”
You look down at your hands. Lo'ak laughs beside you as he says something about being smooth. But your thoughts raced too much to focus on anything else but the way you could feel Neteyam stare at you.
He doesn't step away.
"I can show you,” he says again, his voice softer now, steadier, as though he’s carefully picking up the thread you nearly dropped. “If you want.”
The bow in your hand falters.
You stare up at him as he steps closer. Your mind wanders to his words as his smell fills the space around you, earthy and smoky. You nod at him. He smiled at your reply and made his way closer to you with effortless steps that seemed practiced. And you stood in front of him, palms shaky, breath unsteady.
“Focus,” he says. Breaking you out of your trance slightly. His face coming closer to yours, but his eyes soften with something you were too afraid to name.
His hand reaches down between you, taking your wrist as his fingers curl around it.
"Here," his voice low as he brings your hand against his chest, sprawling out your fingers across his muscles. His hand firm against yours.
"You feel that?"
His chest is warm against your palm. You couldn't bring yourself to look into his eyes, but you stared straight at your hand.
That's when you felt it. His heart.
Whenever you looked at Neteyam, you expected his heart to sound full and strong. But most of all, you expected it to feel steady. But standing here, in the middle of the forest, his heart was anything but steady. It beat quickly and hard underneath your fingers.
Just like yours.
"You make me nervous, too, sevin," he smiled down at you as you finally looked up at him. A faint blush coated his cheeks.
"But try to focus, yeah?" he grinned as he made his way behind you to bring your bow back up into position.
I DON'T KNOW I LOVE HOW THIS CAME OUT THEY ARE SO CUTE!!!
Also, a round of applause to @cottoncloudcake for always helping me write these! I honestly don't know what I would do without her 🥹🩵
CHECK OUT HER WORK!!!!
ALSO, does anybody know an artist who makes Navi OC's for fun because I'm broke broke, can't draw properly, and ew AI. BUT I reallyyyyyy want a navi version of myself 🥹
ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR READING. HAVE A GOODNIGHT YOU GUYS! LOVE YOU ALL MWAH 🩷
The avatar fandom is one of those places where you have about 5 months around the film’s release where there is like 20 fics a minute and then complete radio silence until the next film releases 2000 decades later.
Meaning: "A quiet, comforting warmth, a softness that lingers like a memory. A gentle sweetness that drifts quietly through the heart."
So'lek te Elusa Kiro'itan x Tamtey
A/n: This was greatly inspired from the fic, As we Grow, written by @atokirinasprite. and that cute cheeky tamtey that I see all the time on @solekpilled
GO CHECK Out THEIR BLOGS!
synopsis:
After a long, exhausting day, So’lek finally returns to his kelku—his sanctuary, and home to the one he loves most.
content warning:
None. Tooth-rotting, cavity-forming fluff! Established relationship between So'tey.
word count:
??? k
୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧
So’lek had had enough of this day.
Not the kind of “I am mildly inconvenienced” enough. No—this was the deep, bone-heavy exhaustion that settled into his shoulders and refused to leave, the kind that made every sound sharper, every movement heavier, every thought shorter.
From the moment the sun had climbed, there had been something to fix.
Arrangements. Always arrangements.
The Resistance needed supplies moved, routes reconsidered, patrols adjusted. Someone had miscalculated distance, someone else had misread tracks, and So’lek had been left to stitch together the consequences like he always did—quietly, efficiently, without thanks and without pause.
And then there was Nor.
So’lek exhaled sharply through his nose at the thought, his jaw tightening as irritation flared again, fresh despite the hours that had passed. Reckless, loud, careless in a way that made his teeth grind—So’lek had spent what felt like half the day correcting him, again and again, on positioning, on awareness, on the very basic principle of not getting himself killed because he thought he could handle more than he could.
“You do not rush into a clearing without reading it,” So’lek had said, his voice flat, patience already fraying thin.
Nor had grinned.
Actually grinned.
So’lek had nearly left him there.
As if that were not enough, there had been the Sarentu to train. Eager, too eager at times, with quick hands, quicker questions, and eyes that burned with determination and something softer beneath it. They learned fast, which should have made it easier, but instead they pushed, always pushing, always asking for more, and So’lek had given it to them.
Again. And again. And again.
He had corrected stances, adjusted grips, repeated instructions until his voice had gone low and rough from use. He did not mind teaching—not truly—but today it had felt like pouring water into a vessel that would never quite fill, no matter how much he gave.
And then the hunt.
Eywa.
The animal had been stubborn. clever in a way that demanded respect and patience in equal measure. It had led him through thicker brush than necessary, doubled back twice, and nearly caught him off balance when the wind shifted against him.
By the time he had taken it down, clean but later than he preferred, the sun had already begun its descent, light thinning into evening.
Everything had taken longer than it should have. Everything had asked more of him than he had intended to give.
And now So’lek was done.
He rolled his shoulder as he walked, feeling the tension pull tight across his back, his hands flexing at his sides, claws curling slightly as if they still remembered the resistance of the bowstring. Fatigue clung to him, heavy and insistent, settling into muscle and bone alike.
All he wanted—truly wanted—was to reach his kelku, climb into his hammock, and not wake until the world decided it could function without him again. No voices, no instructions, no Nor. just quiet, just rest, just the absence of everything that had pressed against him since morning.
His pace remained steady at first, his steps sure and familiar along the forest path. Around him, the bioluminescent glow had begun to awaken, soft lights flickering at the edges of his vision as the world shifted from gold into blue, the air cooling with the slow fall of night.
And then, somewhere between one step and the next, a thought surfaced—small, simple, almost unremarkable.
But it changed everything.
His hammock.
Not just his.
Tamtey's too.
The one space that belonged to him and to her.
The image came unbidden, as it always did when his mind allowed it: her curled into the woven fabric, limbs tucked in without care, hair spilling messily across the threads, somehow managing to take up space and yet still look small. Sometimes she would be half-awake when he arrived, blinking up at him with sleep-heavy eyes; other times she would already be gone to rest, her cheek pressed into where his chest would be when he joined her.
Waiting.
Or not waiting at all—just there, as if she had always belonged in that space, as if the hammock itself had been made with her in mind.
So’lek felt something in his chest loosen. tight and coiled in a way he had not fully noticed until now, unwinding just enough to let him breathe easier. The weight in his shoulders did not disappear, but it shifted, settling into something more manageable, something he could carry.
His steps quickened, subtly at first, then just enough that he could feel the difference—the slight lengthening of his stride, the faint forward pull in his posture, as if he were being drawn toward something warmer than the promise of sleep.
The forest seemed quieter now. Softer. Or perhaps it was simply that his mind had stopped cataloguing every irritation, every misstep, every frustration of the day.
He moved past familiar roots and low-hanging branches, ducking without thought, his path carved into instinct. Ahead, the faint glow of his kelku came into view between the trees, unmistakably his.
And there, in that quiet space,
She would be.
Probably already asleep. Probably taking up more of the hammock than necessary, as she always did, leaving him just enough room to fit if he adjusted around her.
So’lek exhaled again, but this time the breath left him slower, quieter.
And for the first time that day, he found himself looking forward to something.
୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧
Just as So’lek reached the edge of the kelku... He stopped.
Not because he was unsure, nor because anything had changed in the space before him, but because habit held him there, steady and unyielding. Instinct, carved deep into him long before Tamtey and long before even this place, rose quietly to the surface and reminded him of something simple, something ingrained.
You return. You provide.
His gaze flickered once toward the soft glow within, where he knew she would be.
Waiting. Or not waiting at all. It did not matter.
What mattered was that she would be there.
And what kind of mate would he be if he returned empty-handed?
So’lek exhaled quietly, the sound soft against the stillness of the night, and turned away from the entrance despite the pull in his chest that urged him forward. It was only for a moment, he told himself. It would not take long.
The forest welcomed him back without question, its quiet presence unchanged as he retraced his steps. The path to the cooking space was dimly lit, embers still glowing faintly from earlier preparations, casting low, flickering light across the ground. A few others lingered at a distance, their movements slow, their voices muted, but So’lek did not acknowledge them, nor did they disturb him.
He moved with purpose now—tired, yes, but steady, each action deliberate, efficient.
A portion of yerik meat had already been set aside from earlier. He checked it with a practiced eye, ensuring it was properly cooked through, still warm enough to be comforting rather than simply sustaining. Satisfied, he wrapped it carefully, his hands moving with quiet precision.
Then the fruit.
Yolvo.
His hand paused briefly over the selection before choosing one—ripe, unblemished, sweet. He knew her preference by now without needing to think about it, the knowledge settled somewhere instinctive, unquestioned.
Of course he did.
A faint, almost imperceptible shift touched his expression as he held it, something softer threading through the lingering fatigue.
Sweet.
His syulang liked sweet things.
The word settled quietly in his chest—syulang—familiar in a way that still surprised him at times. It had come naturally, somewhere along the way. Not planned, not spoken with intent to change anything, but simply… there. In the spaces between words, in the way he looked at her, in the way his hands lingered a moment longer than necessary when they rested on her.
He adjusted his grip on the food, securing it carefully before turning back.
This was simple.
This made sense.
The world beyond this rarely offered clarity, but this? Providing for her, returning to her, ensuring she was cared for in ways both small and necessary?
There was no confusion in that.
Only certainty.
By the time So’lek made his way back, the forest had deepened fully into night. The bioluminescence had grown stronger, casting soft blues and greens across the path, the air cooler now against his skin. Even the sounds had shifted, quieter, more intimate—the kind of quiet that wrapped around you rather than pressed in, settling gently instead of demanding to be noticed.
His steps slowed as he approached, not from hesitation, but from awareness—from care. He adjusted the way he held the food so it would not make unnecessary noise, his movements naturally quieter now, more deliberate, each step measured without conscious thought.
The entrance to the kelku came into view once more, that same soft glow spilling outward, drawing him in with a pull that felt stronger now, steadier.
So’lek ducked inside, and immediately, everything in him softened.
The space was small and familiar, carrying the faint scent of woven fibers, forest air and her. It settled around him in an instant, easing something deep and unspoken as his gaze moved instinctively toward the hammock.
His sarentu—safe and warm in his space, untouched by it all.
୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧
Tamtey had lost count.
She leaned against the woven edge of the kelku’s opening, fingers tracing the fibers absently as her eyes scanned the forest beyond—again, and again, and again.
Nothing.
Only the soft glow of night, the distant flicker of bioluminescent plants swaying gently as if the world itself had already settled into rest.
The eclipse had passed long ago.
She had watched it alone.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she exhaled slowly, the breath heavier than she intended.
He should have been back by now.
So’lek was not careless. He was not late. He did not linger. If anything, he was the opposite—efficient to a fault, always returning when he said he would, always exactly where he needed to be, exactly when he needed to be there.
She drew in a slow breath, steadying it the way he had taught her, forcing the tension down even as it resisted. There were explanations. There were always explanations.
The Resistance, perhaps—something must have come up. Another arrangement, another correction, another task that only he could fix because no one else ever seemed to get it right the first time.
Or the hunt.
Something could have delayed him. He could still be tracking, still moving through the forest with that quiet patience of his, following something stubborn that refused to be caught.
He could be—
Her thoughts cut off sharply as she shook her head.
No.
He would not stay out without reason.
Her fingers curled into the woven edge, tightening slightly as the feeling in her chest shifted, sharpening. A steady, gnawing worry that refused to leave once it settled in.
Tamtey pushed herself away from the entrance, pacing once across the small space before stopping again, her movements restless, unfocused.
She should have been asleep by now.
Normally, she would have been—curled into the hammock, half tangled in the fabric, drifting off without realizing she had been waiting at all, trusting without question that he would return and find her there.
But tonight, sleep would not come.
Not when his space beside her was empty. Not when the forest felt just a little too quiet.
She sank back onto the hammock with a soft huff, dragging a hand down her face. “You are being ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, though the words carried no real conviction.
He was fine. He had to be fine.
Her chest tightened again.
“…he’s fine,” she said, firmer this time, as if saying it aloud might force it into truth.
Still, her eyes flicked back toward the entrance.
Again. Just in case.
A long breath left her as she leaned back, staring up through the small opening where the night sky peeked through, stars blinking softly above. The hammock swayed beneath her, slow and familiar, the motion usually enough to pull her into sleep without effort.
Not tonight. Not without him.
Her fingers drifted absently to the space beside her, pressing into the fabric where his weight should have been. It felt wrong—too light, too empty, the absence more noticeable than the presence ever was.
Time stretched, quiet settling deeper around her, the stillness growing heavier the longer it remained undisturbed.
Tamtey turned onto her side, facing the entrance now, her eyes half-lidded but refusing to close fully. Her body was tired, aching for rest, but her mind would not let her have it.
A sound interrupts her train of thoughts.
The faint tangle of beads shifting against one another, brushing together in a way she knew before her thoughts could even catch up, the sound threading through her awareness like instinct.
Tamtey stilled.
And then her head snapped toward the entrance.
Her eyes brightened, wide and sharp, something warm rushing through her chest so quickly it almost hurt, relief flooding in before she could even name it.
There.
A shadow at the entrance. A presence she knew without needing to see.
“So’lek—”
His name slipped from her before she could stop it, soft but alive, relief woven through every syllable.
And just like that, the night didn’t feel so heavy anymore.
୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧
The moment he steps fully inside, Tamtey doesn’t even think.
She moves—fast.
“MA' SO'LEKK!”
She’s off the hammock in a heartbeat, all sleepiness gone, all that quiet, gnawing worry bursting into something bright and overwhelming as she launches herself at him.
He barely has time to brace before she’s in his arms, her own wrapping tightly around his neck, her weight colliding into him without hesitation. Her face buries itself against him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck like she’s trying to make up for every second he was gone.
“I missed you! where have you been—” her words tumble over each other, breathless, half-laughing, half-accusing, “you took so long?!”
And then come the kisses.
Messy, rapid, entirely uncoordinated—his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth.
“Mwah—mwah—mwah—!”
So’lek exhales, something caught between a quiet huff and the beginning of a laugh, as the full force of her affection hits him all at once.
“Sarentu—”
But she doesn’t stop.
Of course she doesn’t.
“I thought you got lost—no, actually you wouldn’t get lost—so then I thought something ate you—then I thought maybe you just forgot me, which is worse—”
“Mmm,” he hums lowly, adjusting his stance as she clings to him, one arm tightening instinctively around her waist to keep her steady.
The other arm still holding the food. Carefully.
Because despite her chaos, the way she’s currently attacking his face with affection he will not drop it. His grip remains firm, secure, the motion controlled even now.
Tamtey pulls back just enough to look at him, her hands coming up to cup his face as her eyes scan him quickly, checking in the only way she knows how.
“You’re late,” she accuses, though the edge has softened, dulled by the way her thumbs brush over his cheeks.
“You are still awake,” he counters quietly.
She gasps, offended.
“I waited,” she insists, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Obviously.”
So’lek’s gaze softens—just slightly, but enough that it lingers.
He shifts the food in his hand, freeing just enough movement before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. It’s soft, brief, and entirely intentional.
“I missed you too.”
It’s quiet, almost lost beneath the lingering echo of her energy but it lands.
It always does.
Tamtey freezes for half a second, her expression going completely still and then she melts.
Her entire face softens into something brighter, warmer, her forehead dropping lightly against his as a small, satisfied hum escapes her.
“…you’re forgiven,” she decides immediately.
Of course.
So’lek huffs softly again, something warmer this time, his free hand rising to rest at the back of her head, fingers threading lightly into her hair to steady her where she leans into him.
“Good,” he murmurs.
Her nose nudges against his again, slower now, softer, the earlier rush of energy settling into something quieter, more content now that he’s here.
Then her gaze flicks downward.
Pauses.
“…what is that?”
So’lek follows her gaze, as if only now remembering.
“Food.”
“For me?” Her voice lifts again, bright—but softer this time, fond rather than frantic.
He nods once.
“Of course.”
Tamtey stares at him for a moment, something shifting in her expression. something dangerously soft, entirely unguarded.
“…you brought me food,” she repeats, quieter now.
“What kind of mate would I be if I did not?” he replies simply.
That’s all it takes.
She lets out a small, emotional sound—half laugh, half something else—and immediately leans in again, pressing another series of kisses to his face, slower this time, lingering.
“Mwah—you’re the best—mwah—don’t ever leave again—mwah—”
“I left for a few hours.”
“Too long.”
He doesn’t argue.
Instead, he shifts his hold on her, guiding her back toward the hammock with steady, careful steps. She stays wrapped around him, still clinging, still sneaking little kisses wherever she can reach as they move.
By the time they reach it, she’s already halfway draped over him again, her energy dimming into something softer, sleepier, her movements slower but no less affectionate.
And So’lek still tired, still aching— but no longer weighed down.
Not when she’s like this.
Not when she’s his.
୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧
They settle into the hammock like it’s second nature, the woven ropes shifting slightly as So’lek lowers himself first, steadying the structure with a practiced hand before guiding Tamtey down with him. The moment she’s within reach, she doesn’t bother sitting properly—of course she doesn’t—half climbing over him instead, one leg hooked over his, her arms still loosely wrapped around his shoulders like she has no intention of letting go anytime soon.
“…you are difficult,” he murmurs, though there’s no weight behind the words.
“You love it,” she shoots back immediately, already reaching for the food he had set aside.
He doesn’t deny it. He never does.
The scent of the yerik meat fills the small space as she unwraps it, the warmth and richness of it settling into the air between them. Her expression shifts instantly—softening, brightening—in that way that always seems to settle something deeper in his chest.
“You really brought this for me,” she says again, softer now, as though still processing it.
So’lek gives a small nod. “Eat.”
She tears off a piece without hesitation and then, just as quickly, holds it up toward him, her gaze firm with quiet expectation.
“First bite is yours.”
“I brought it for you.”
“And I am giving it to you,” she counters, tilting her head just slightly as if daring him to argue.
He studies her for a moment.
The way her mouth sets with quiet stubbornness. The warmth in her eyes. The simple, unwavering refusal to lower her hand.
Then, without further argument, he leans forward and takes the bite.
Taletey grins immediately, pleased in a way that is far too proud for something so small.
“See? Not so hard.”
So’lek exhales softly. something between a sigh and the hint of a laugh before taking a piece for himself, holding it out toward her in return.
Her smile widens at that.
“Oh, now you want to share—”
“Eat,” he repeats.
She does.
And just like that, it becomes a rhythm between them. Back and forth, the two of them sharing in quiet tandem, her fingers brushing lightly against his lips, his hand steady and deliberate as he offers her each bite in return. There is no rush in the way they move, no urgency in the moment—only care, wrapped in something familiar and deeply unspoken.
By the time they reach the yolvo fruit, Tamtey has already begun to settle further into him, her earlier burst of energy slowly softening into something gentler, something more rooted in comfort than motion.
She hums softly as she takes a bite, her eyes drifting closed for just a moment. “This one’s sweet.”
“I know.”
Her eyes open again, flicking up toward him with quiet amusement.
“…what took you so long?”
The question carries none of its earlier sharpness. No accusation. Only curiosity, gentle and open, as her fingers rest lightly against his arm.
So’lek is quiet for a moment, not because he hesitates, but because he gathers the words carefully before speaking.
“The Resistance needed adjustments,” he begins, his voice low and steady. “Routes were inefficient. Supplies misplaced.”
Tamtey makes a small face at that. “Of course they were.”
A faint flicker of amusement touches his expression.
“And Nor,” he adds.
She groans immediately. “No.”
“Yes.”
“What did he do this time?”
So’lek exhales lightly through his nose before answering. “Entered a clearing without reading it.”
Taletey gasps, scandalized. “Absolutely not.”
“He survived.”
“Well, unfortunately,” she mutters, though there’s a trace of reluctant humor in it, before nudging his shoulder lightly. “You didn’t leave him there, did you?”
So’lek glances down at her, expression calm, almost unreadable.
“…no.”
“Shame.”
“They always need training,” she murmurs.
“They push too hard.”
“That sounds familiar,” she teases lightly, though her hand settles more firmly on his arm, thumb brushing slowly over his skin in a way that grounds both of them.
So’lek doesn’t pull away.
“The hunt was delayed,” he continues. “The animal was persistent.”
Tamtey studies him for a moment, her expression shifting subtly as she takes in his posture, the lingering tension still held in his shoulders. Her hand slides up, resting against him with quiet intention, her touch firm but gentle as she presses into the muscle there.
“You worked too hard,” she says.
She sighs softly and leans in, pressing her forehead briefly against his jaw, her voice softening even further as she speaks again.
“You don’t always have to fix everything.”
“…but I know you will anyway.”
His hand shifts at her back, steadying her, pulling her just a fraction closer in response, his touch firm but careful, as if anchoring her to him in the same quiet way she anchors him.
She melts into it without resistance.
They fall back into their rhythm easily—bite for bite, slow and unhurried. Taletey hums softly as she eats, her fingers slightly sticky from the fruit, though she pays it no mind, still talking, still smiling, still leaning into him like she belongs there without question.
She does.
So’lek watches her for a moment longer than necessary.
Then reaches for her hand.
Not abruptly. Just a steady, familiar motion until her fingers rest in his grasp.
She blinks up at him.
“What—”
He tilts her hand slightly and, without ceremony, leans in to lick the trace of fruit from her fingertips
slowly and deliberately, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Tamtey freezes.
Just for a moment.
And then her entire expression brightens.
“…oh?”
“So that’s what we’re doing?” she says, voice shifting instantly into something playful.
So’lek releases her hand, calm as ever, though there is the faintest shift in his expression.
“You were messy.”
She gasps. “Excuse you—”
“You were messy.”
She narrows her eyes at him, clearly considering her next move, before leaning in closer, inspecting his face with exaggerated seriousness.
“…hold still.”
He does not move.
Not because he has to—but because he wants to see what she will do.
Her gaze traces over his features before she hums softly, satisfied.
“Aha.”
“What.”
“You have something,” she says.
“Where.”
Instead of answering she cups his face and presses a quick, precise kiss to the corner of his mouth, licking away the remnants of the sweet fruit.
“There.”
So’lek blinks once.
Then exhales quietly, something warm settling in his chest as he looks at her—really looks at her in that moment.
“…that was unnecessary.”
She grins, completely unbothered.
“Was it?”
A pause.
“You didn’t stop me.”
He doesn’t answer that.
She settles back against him as though nothing happened, as though kissing him were as ordinary as breathing, her head finding its place against his chest once more while her fingers begin to trace slow, absent patterns along his arm.
“Next time,” she murmurs, “try not to get food on your face.”
“…next time,” he replies quietly, “you try not to get your fingers messy.”
She snorts softly.
“Unlikely.”
୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧
The food is forgotten somewhere between them.
The hammock sways gently, its motion slow and soothing as the night deepens around them, the woven fibers shifting softly beneath their combined weight.
Tamtey leans back just slightly, tugging him with her until they’re both angled enough to see through the opening above.
Stars.
Scattered across the sky like something delicate and endless, distant yet constant.
“Look,” she whispers, pointing lazily. “That one’s brighter tonight.”
So’lek follows her gaze without a word.
He doesn’t speak. But he watches.
Because she wants him to.
Her fingers find his again, absentmindedly tracing along his knuckles as her voice drifts, soft and unhurried, pointing out shapes that don’t quite exist, existing only in the quiet space between them.
He listens. Not to the stars. But to her.
So’lek’s hand rests at her back, his fingers moving in small, absent motions—grounding, familiar, as though confirming without needing to think that she is still there, still real, still beside him.
She tilts her head slightly, her voice slipping into something softer, quieter.
“…So’lek,” she murmurs.
Her fingers shift, trailing along his arm, then down until they rest at his wrist. A quiet question.
He stills for just a moment.
Then his gaze lowers to her.
She’s looking up at him now, eyes half-lidded but clear, something deeper settling beneath the softness. something that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud.
“Come here,” she whispers.
They move together without hurry, the hammock dipping slightly under the shift as they adjust, sitting up just enough to face one another.
Unhurried. Always unhurried with him.
Her hands rise first, gentle as they find his queue, her touch careful, reverent even in its softness. There is no teasing now, no brightness spilling out of her.
only warmth, steady and sure.
So’lek mirrors her, his movements precise but controlled, guiding his own queue forward.
For a moment, they pause.
Close enough to feel each other’s breath, foreheads nearly touching, the space between them thin and quiet.
Her eyes flick to his.
His remain steady on hers.
And then Connection.
The world shifts.
Not in sound, but in presence.
The forest still exists. The night still hums softly around them. The stars remain above, distant and unchanged—but everything else fades, blurring into something that no longer matters.
Tamtey exhales slowly, her shoulders loosening as something deeper settles over her, the restlessness from earlier dissolving completely into stillness.
So’lek’s hand steadies at her arms, grounding but gentle, his presence unwavering, solid in a way that holds without pressing.
It isn’t overwhelming or loud.
but rather warm and full.
Familiar in a way that goes beyond words.
Her forehead rests lightly against his when they settle again, still connected, her breath slow and even now, her entire body finally at ease.
“…hi,” she whispers, like she’s seeing him all over again.
So’lek’s lips twitch faintly.
“Hi.”
A quiet huff of laughter leaves her, soft and sleepy, her hands sliding down to rest against his chest again as she leans into him fully, letting herself sink into the comfort of him.
The bond lingers between them like a shared heartbeat.
No urgency. No rush.
His hand lifts slowly, brushing along her cheek, his thumb settling just beneath her eye, the motion careful, almost absent in its tenderness as he studies her face in the quiet.
୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧
So’lek almost falls asleep.
almost.
“…So’lek.”
A low hum answers her automatically, his hand shifting at her back in a slow, instinctive motion that draws her closer, keeping her anchored to him even as sleep tugs at the edges of his awareness.
There’s a pause, like she’s weighing the words before she lets them go.
“I visited the tsahìk today.”
So’lek’s eyes open.
Not sharply. Not with alarm.
But with awareness, the kind that settles into his body before it ever reaches his expression. He stills beneath her, tension threading lightly through his muscles as his focus narrows, sharpening in that controlled way it always does when something feels off.
“The tsahìk,” he repeats, his voice low, steady.
“Why.”
His hand moves without drawing attention to it, brushing along her arm, then her side, checking without making the concern obvious.
Tamtey feels it anyway.
She lifts her head just enough to look at him—and then she smiles.
Soft. Sleepy.
Bright in a way that doesn’t match his concern at all.
His brow tightens, just slightly.
“You are injured?” he asks.
“No.”
“Sick?”
“No,” she repeats, a quiet laugh slipping out, light and unbothered.
His hand stills against her, his gaze sharpening as it lingers on her face, searching now with more focus, trying to understand what she isn’t saying.
“…then why.”
Tamtey doesn’t answer right away.
Instead, her hand drifts downward, resting lightly against her stomach. small, almost absent in its movement, but entirely intentional.
So’lek follows it.
And for a moment, nothing happens.
Then, it settles.
The realization doesn’t strike all at once; it unfolds, quiet and undeniable, until everything in him goes still.
as though the world has narrowed to that single point beneath her hand.
“…syulang,” he says, more softly now.
She doesn’t speak.
She only watches him, that same gentle smile lingering, her eyes warmer now, holding something she’s been carrying carefully all this time.
His gaze shifts—from her face, to her hand, and back again.
“You are certain,” he asks, his voice lower than before, each word measured with care.
She nods.
“I am.”
So’lek exhales, slow and controlled—but different than before. Something in his chest shifts, deep and steady, unfamiliar in its weight, in its quiet magnitude.
His hand moves, more deliberate than anything he’s done all day, coming to rest over hers where it lies against her stomach. His touch is careful, almost tentative in a way that doesn’t come naturally to him, like he’s aware of something fragile beneath his hands.
“…ours,” he murmurs.
Tamtey’s smile deepens, softening even further as she looks at him.
“Ours.”
His thumb brushes once across the back of her hand, grounding motions that make the moment real, anchor it into something solid.
Taletey watches him, her earlier brightness melting into something quieter, something deeper, her entire expression soft with it.
“You look like you’re thinking too much,” she whispers.
“I am.”
She huffs softly, nudging her forehead against his in a small, familiar gesture.
“Don’t. You’re going to scare it away.”
So’lek exhales quietly, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.
“That is not how this works.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “But still.”
His arm tightens around her then, drawing her closer as he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. the contact deliberate and unhurried.
Then lower.
Just above where her hand rests.
Then she melts into him again, her arms wrapping around him as she buries her face into the curve of his neck, her body fitting against his like it always does.
“You’re happy,” she murmurs.
Not a question. So’lek’s hand settles firmly at her back, steady and sure.
“Yes.”
And now there is something more.
Not just the quiet, steady love they have built between long days and tired nights. Not just them.
Something growing.
Something theirs.
୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧
Her voice drifts up again, softer now, the edges of her words already beginning to blur as sleep pulls at them.
“…we need names.”
So’lek answers with a low hum, his eyes heavy, his attention resting only on the warmth against him.
“We do.”
A quiet pause settles between them, unhurried and full. He can feel her breathing where she lies against his chest, slow and steady, her presence grounding in a way that makes the rest of the world feel far away.
Then, faint but certain, a smile touches her voice.
“It’s going to be something strong.”
“It will be,” he replies, calm and sure.
“And pretty,” she adds, almost immediately, as if the thought cannot wait.
Something soft flickers at the corner of his mouth.
“…and strong.”
She shifts against him, nudging her forehead into his chest in quiet protest, stubborn even like this. “Both.”
His arm tightens slightly around her, keeping her close without effort.
“Both,” he agrees, his voice gentler now.
After that, their conversation loosens, drifting into something softer. Words come slower, less precise, slipping between them like the night air.
“What if it’s loud?” she murmurs, the question barely more than breath.
“It will be.”
A small huff escapes her. “Rude.”
“You are loud.”
“I am expressive,” she corrects, quieter now but no less certain.
A low breath of amusement leaves him, warm and quiet, his hand moving idly along her arm in a slow, absent motion.
“Mm.”
Her voice begins to fade after that, stretching at the edges, her words softening as sleep takes hold.
“But… names,” she insists again, more faint this time, like she is holding onto the thought with the last of her energy.
So’lek does not answer right away.
“If it is a boy,” he says at last, his voice low and steady, “he will earn his name.”
Tamtey hums softly in response, already slipping deeper into sleep, the sound small and content.
“Mhm… okay…”
The quiet lingers again, gentle and unbroken.
Then his voice returns, softer.
“If it is a girl…”
“…we will name her Aha'ri... Like your late sister”
The name settles between them, quiet and certain.
For a moment, Tamtey does not respond.
Her breath catches, just slightly, enough for him to feel it against his chest. The slow rhythm of her breathing stutters, then stills, like something in her has been pulled backward before she can stop it. Her fingers, resting against him, curl faintly into his side.
Not pain, not fully. But the memory of it. The kind that never really leaves.
So’lek feels it immediately.
His arm tightens around her without thinking, grounding, steady. He does not rush to fill the silence. He lets her have it, lets the weight of the name settle the way it needs to.
After a moment, she shifts closer instead of away, pressing her face more firmly into his chest as if choosing this over whatever tried to surface.
When she speaks, her voice is softer than before, but clearer than sleep alone would make it.
“…she would have liked that,” Tamtey murmurs.
His hand moves slowly along her arm, a quiet reassurance.
“She would have,” he answers.
A small breath leaves her, uneven at first, then easing as she settles again. Her grip loosens, though she stays close, closer than before.
“…Aha'ri,” she repeats, barely a whisper now, like she is testing the name in a gentler place.
So’lek dips his head again, resting it lightly against her hair this time, his presence steady and certain.
“Yes.”
୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧
The hammock continues to sway gently beneath them, mulling them to sleep.
Fingers remain loosely intertwined. Foreheads touch. There are soft, fleeting kisses exchanged in the quiet, carrying everything they do not need to say.
At some point, her words begin to fade.
“…you came back,” she murmurs, barely audible.
“I said I would.”
So’lek looks down at her. Her face is soft now. Lashes resting against her cheeks, lips slightly parted as her breathing evens out. Her cheek presses against his, warm and squishy.
So’lek exhales quietly, the breath leaving him slow and steady as the last of the day finally loosens its hold.
So’lek lets his eyes fall shut, his hold on her firm and certain, unyielding even in rest.
And beneath the soft hush of the forest, they fall asleep together.
୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧
Reblogs, likes, comments and feedback are appreciated!
Summary: You and Neteyam have liked each other for a long time, but both are too scared to say anything. MAYBE NOT THIS TIME???
warnings: Pining, fluff, yearning, some kissy kissy hehe
word count: 1,2k words
♡ Part 1
Being patient, being strong, being the protector, working hard. Those were things that came easily for Neteyam. The weight of expectation from his father, keeping Lo'ak out of trouble, and protecting his sisters. Those were things he understood. They were things he could control. But you, you were none of those things. You were different from everything he had ever experienced, and that made him nervous in both excitement and fear. He couldn't tell if the butterflies he felt in his stomach were fluttering at the way you spoke to him or were trying to eat him from the inside.
What if they were wrong? What if the way you looked at him was nothing more than care? What if every little thing that you did that caused him to fall asleep with you on his mind meant something entirely different to you?
Neteyam stood still. At your door. Either he could let the butterflies chew at his ribs, or he could find out.
He knocked on your door, just once. Maybe if you didn't hear it the first time, it would be a good enough excuse to turn around and go back home. And stay in this cycle of long looks and midnight dreams.
You opened your door.
His breath hitched. You were prettier than he remembered. Hair tied back messily into a ponytail that fell back between your shoulder blades, flour dusted your cheeks, hiding the light freckles beneath them. You smiled so warmly at him, he swore you yourself were made out of sugar.
"Hey," he smiled. There was no turning around now.
"Hi, Teyam," you shied under his gaze, completely unaware of what you did to him. "Where's everyone else?"
"Oh, I'm early... I hope that's fine," he said as he silently begged for the butterflies to calm down just a little.
"Oh, sure," you opened the door wider, rubbing your hands on your apron, unsure of what to do with them, and continued back into the kitchen. Neteyam, close behind you like a puppy.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you," he said as he watched you take out a tray from the oven.
"That's okay, I just expected everyone to come a bit later," you smiled at him as you gestured towards the mess on the kitchen counter.
He wondered what caused you to bake so much today. You always baked when your thoughts got too loud. You told him that once, voice soft, eyes somewhere far away. “It’s easier to put feelings somewhere they won’t spill,” you had said, hands busy with dough.
"I know.. I - I just wanted to see you," he spoke softly over the humming of the oven, scratching the back of his neck.
"Just me?" you said, your voice teasing
Stupid butterflies.
He was sure they'd completely bitten through every rib in his chest. And you stood there, too distracted by confections in front of you to notice his inner turmoil.
He was going to do it. Tell you. How he repeated your name so much that it had become his own language.
He stepped closer.
"It's always just you."
You blinked at him.
He searched your eyes for any sign of discomfort. For any sign that told him that he needed to let this moment go. But he found none. And he wasn't sure which scared him more.
“Ha. Ha, Neteyam,” you said, crossing your arms, though your lips twitched. “Very funny. Did you take that joke out of a cereal box or a trash magazine this time?”
Neteyam didn't laugh with you. He couldn't even if he wanted to.
"No," he stepped closer. His hands slowly came up to hold your forearms.
Your arms slowly uncrossed, confidence slipping just a little as you searched his face for any hint of teasing—but there was none. Just that steady, quiet look he always got when he meant something.
He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, his mouth mere inches from yours. Your hand stopped at his chest, fingers curling slightly at his shirt. His eyes darted to every corner of your face, drinking in every detail like it would be the last time.
"Can I - Can I kiss you?" he whispered.
You didn't answer. You just grabbed his shirt tighter and pulled him in.
The kiss was gentle. He tasted the sugar on your lips, swallowing everything he possibly could. Your hands trembled at his chest, but you'd never felt safer.
He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss into something sudden and addictive. Like something he'd been craving since the day he met you. Because he had been.
When you finally parted, smiling, cheeks blushing, you whispered, "I guess maybe you weren't kidding."
"You sure?" he teased. Smiling just as brightly.
"Let's make sure" your smile turned into something akin to mischief as you chased his lips with yours.
He sighed into it, nervous you would hear him purr.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Both of you parted quickly and breathlessly.
"I SMELL SOMETHING BAKING!" Lo’ak’s voice rang through the door. “OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!”
Neteyam made a sound close to a hiss as his hand lifted to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Why is the door locked?” Aonung’s voice followed, far too suspicious. “What are you two doing in there? Let us in.”
“I’m going to kill them,” Neteyam muttered.
Another loud knock.
“Neteyam, I know you’re in there!” Lo’ak added, way too pleased with himself.
You tried—really tried—not to laugh.
“Go away!” Neteyam snapped toward the door. “Come back later, I swear to—”
You giggled as you walked to the door to open it to the faces of your siblings and friends.
"I knew it!" Lo'ak pointed to your apron.
Aonung pushed past him, eyes immediately landing on Neteyam—then you—then back to Neteyam again.
“…We interrupted something.”
“Get out,” Neteyam said flatly.
Tsireya giggled as she walked in. "Mom and Dad said they're coming home after dinner," she said to you as she placed her bag on the counter.
Almost immediately, the room erupted with the normal chaos. Kiri was deep in conversation with Tsireya and Aonung as you busied yourself with swatting Lo'ak's hand away from the tray. Eventually, he gave up placing himself beside his older brother.
“So,” he started, not even trying to be subtle, “did you tell her, or are we still suffering for nothing?”
Neteyam huffed beside him.
“Oh, he definitely told her,” Aonung cut in, far too satisfied. “Look at his face.”
You smiled as you pretended to be in deep concentration while laying out the cookies on a pretty plate. Goodness forbid your own older brother caught sight of your blushing cheeks.
Neteyam groaned. “I hate all of you.”
“No, you don’t,” Tsireya said sweetly.
Lo’ak leaned closer again, dropping his voice just enough to be annoying. “So… when’s the next batch of cookies coming?”
Neteyam didn’t even hesitate.
“None for you.”
“WHAT—”
Your laughter filled the space before Lo’ak could finish protesting, and Neteyam couldn’t help it—he smiled too, glancing at you across the table.
He had always been yours. That much he knew.
But now he knew you were his, too. His heart leaped.
It was just too sweet a thought
Thank you 2 @cottoncloudcake for this!
She basically helped me write this so you guys better check out her blog or I will crawl out from under your bed.
LOVE YOU ALL AND THANK YOU FOR READING!!! 🤍🍪
@cottoncloudcake THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST 🩵
whispers: go check out her blog!
You were so soft to him. The way your hands never held anything too tight, your fingers gently curled around whatever you held, as if it could slip out of your hands at any moment. That's how he felt around you. You were so quiet in the bustle of the village. He was always scared thats how you held him now, like he could slip through those fingers of yours like soil.
He always held things tight. His bow, his protectiveness over his family, but never you. He never wanted to hold you too tight to break you. So he always stayed (metaphorically) one step too far from you. He would never ask you for more time than you offered. He would steal glances at you, blushing smiles under the trees, whispers by the fire. But he didn't know how to ask for more without holding on to you too tightly. And that terrified him.
Slowly, his glances turned into stares from across the fire, where the village started to sit for the late meal. He would never ask for you to stare back; he let himself enjoy what he could - the way your hair swayed with each of your movements, the way you laughed, the way your voice seemed to taunt his ears - until he saw him. Tulok. A young warrior. Neteyam had trained with him many times, never becoming close friends, but rather hunting acquaintances. Sure, he was smart, kind, strong, but Neteyam is all those things too (he thought too quietly).
He watched Tulok approach you slowly and terribly confident. He lowered himself beside you in a way that seemed like he would never leave. Neteyam's heart lowered its placement in his chest. Not enough to hurt, but enough to be uncomfortable. Lo'ak didn't miss it, though. He grinned at his brother. His crush on you was obvious to everyone except himself, apparently.
You smiled at Tulok. Neteyams tails twitched. 'It shouldn't matter,' he thought. You were kind. That is all you were being. Your hand moved to his arm. You were too kind. And Neteyam let you be.
"You are too clumsy to hunt, syulang," Tulok said, with a grin of a vain warrior.
You cringed. It was hard enough tripping on every rock that seemed to have a personal vendetta against you, but it was worse when others seemed to think you weren't good enough to hold your ground. They never saw you get right back up, bleeding but standing. And for some reason, Tulok thought that showing he was a stronger warrior than you was somehow flirting.
"I can do it for you," he puffed out his chest like a bird.
You smiled. Not because you thought he was being nice, you were irritated, but you were too soft to stand up for yourself. It was something you hated. Your heart always beat too fast, your hands always shook too hard when you felt confrontation. But most of all, you hated how others saw your softness as a weakness. Your father said that being gentle was a gift. And yet this gift interrupted your meal with an egotistical hunter. Across the fire Neteyams tail never settled. He watched the pride in Tulok's shoulders, his fangs peaking through every smile he sent your way while you waited for him to leave you alone.
After the songs of the night were over, you sat in a high branch in hometree. A beetle-like creature walked across your hand as you inspected it. Its body glowed under the light of the night, sparkling purple, and for the first time in your life, you wished you had your own armour like the beetle. Footsteps interrupted your one-on-one time.
"Sorry," Neteyam spoke just above a whisper, as if he wasn't hoping to find you.
You turned your head back, looking past your shoulder, smiling up at him.
"Join us," you gestured to the empty spot on the branch next to you. Legs swinging in the Pandoran night air.
"Us?" Neteyam asked as he sat beside you.
You lifted your other hand up towards him. Showing off the little friend you made. He nodded in acknowledgement, a small, amusing smile on his face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. You noticed immediately.
"What should I name him?" you asked.
Neteyam shrugged, looking forward into the leaves.
"I'll name him 'Teyam'," you smiled victoriasly raising the little beetle higher in the air as it walked across your fingers. Neteyam glanced quickly, afraid the beetle might just slip through your fingers. He huffed, his shoulders sagging slightly. You noticed again.
"You see his armour? It keeps him safe from falling or other predators. Isn't is beautiful?" you looked back at your hand.
Neteyam once again didn't say anything. He didn't know why he couldn't bring himself to. He wanted to see you smile, he wanted to make you laugh, to reach his hand out to yours and wait for the beetle to climb onto his own palm.
"Ma Neteyam...you are quiet," you gently tried to get his attention.
"I am fine," he replied simply.
"That is not the same."
He breathed air into his nose, his shoulders sagging even more forward.
"How was your conversation with Tulok?" he asked.
Ahh. You were soft, yes, but you weren't stupid. You knew that you shared a bond with Neteyam, and you noticed how his eyes always lowered when any other hunter spoke to you. You always knew how to bring him back into his confident self, but it got you nowhere closer to where you wanted to be. He always seemed a step too far away from you. This time, you decided, you would push him just a little.
"Nice," you shrugged, looking down at the beetle once more.
"What?" Neteyam's heart moved lower in his ribs.
"Yes, it was fine," you said simply, trying your best not to smile and give yourself away.
"Well, I - He's.. stupid," Neteyam's words stumbled out chaotically as he tried his best not to be too obvious about his feelings. What was he even feeling?
You scoffed at his words. "No, he's not".
"I'm smarter," he stated, his eyes glued on the beetle in your hand.
"You're being salty," you spoke, your voice gentle.
Neteyam looked back at you for the first time, and you couldn't tell if he was going to laugh or deny it. He watched the way your freckles glowed in the night, the way your hair fell on your shoulder, the way your lips curved in a shy smile. He hated to admit it, but he was jealous. The thought sticky in his mind. Not only was he jealous of Tulok and the way your hand so kindly rested on his arm. But he was jealous of the beetle. The way it crawled on your fingers, unafraid, clinging on to the blue stripes of your hands.
"I'm jealous," He admitted. He had no idea why he had said it. He never meant to, but the beetle seemed to taunt him as it walked upside down on your hand.
"I know," you smiled.
You brought your other hand to his shoulder, "but you don't need to be."
You brushed your fingers up his arm and towards his jaw, his shoulders relaxing against your touch. You swore you could hear him purr.
"I should not feel like this," Neteyam whispered. You weren't his yet. That much was known. But to everyone else, it was bound to happen at some point. To him, it was scary. To you, it was gentle.
"I want you to," your voice low. That was his breaking point. He slowly moved closer, basking in the scent of your skin.
His life had been filled with loudness. A loud father, a loud clan, loud warriors, and a loud brother, but you? You were the one thing Ewya let him have gently. And he loved every soft touch.
GUYS, IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS ONE BUT LET ME KNOW
Idk why I felt like I wrote this too fast, and the pacing is too fast for the story, so I might just
feel cute and delete later :P
Summary: You and Neteyam have liked each other for a long time, but both are too scared to say anything. Just a little drabble about him admitting his feelings and talking to his siblings and friends about asking you out!
warnings: Pining, fluff, yearning
word count: 500 + words
Neteyam stood between what felt like an argument rather than advice, his hand flying to squeeze his nose between his eyes. It was useless trying to intervene now.
"I swear to Eywa, if he doesn't tell her at this point, I will! " Aonung yells to Lo'ak while pointing a finger at Neteyam.
"You never told her before! Why tell her now?" Lo'ak counter argues to Aonung.
Aonung sighs but doesn't admit defeat, "because it's getting annoying the way he drools at my sister!"
"Okay, boys, no one is telling anybody anything. We are here to help him," Tsireya finally begins to de-escalate the pointless argument while reaching her hand toward Lo'ak. Neteyam sighs gratefully to the girl.
Lo'ak turns abruptly to Neteyam once again, his mischievous smile reappearing instantly on his face, "Just tell her."
"It's not that easy. I don't want to ruin what we have... and I don't even know if she feels the same way." Neteyam says, his shoulders slumping slightly at his own thoughts.
"Skxawng. While you're sulking about not telling her, she's sulking about you not doing anything." Aonung scoffs at Neteyam.
Neteyam's eyes widen at his statement. It was one thing when they all teased him about you, but it was another when they admitted knowing how you felt about him. But every time his hope spiked, he pushed it down far. He knew it was too good to be true, even if his friends swore you felt the same.
Lo'ak grabs his older brother's shoulder, "Come on, bro! If you tell her, she's going to bring her baking over to our place before Aonung eats everything!"
Neteyam smiled. He loved how you found your peace in the depths of crusts and batter. You once told him that when you're full of love with nowhere to go, you'd put it in your baking. You loved watching your friends and family smile after you spent the night throwing ingredients together. And it was obvious to everyone but Neteyam how you would always bring something for him. Hoping he would understand that the love you spoke about ended up reaching his tongue. He thought it was cute the way you'd bring something to class at least once a week, sharing with him whatever you made the night before, "It's all I had left after Aonung found my hidden stash." But he figured you did this for everyone. You didn't.
Neteyam shoved Lo'ak off his shoulder, "I can't tell whether you're happy I've finally decided to ask her out or at the prospect of a sweet treat."
"Lucky for you it's both," Lo'ak's fangs flashing in his grin, Kiri rolling her eyes behind him.
Aonung stepped forward and back into the conversation, "Yeah, okay, whatever. You're going to be swimming in chocolate chips if you ask her, but then you have to actually ask her. I mean, we technically don't know since the losers never had a boyfriend."
Tsireya scolded Aonung by smacking him on the head, "Don't be mean." Aonung only rolled his eyes in return.
"Neteyam, you have nothing to worry about. Our sister is fond of you; all you have to do is show her that you are too."
At this Neteyam perked up, his shoulders coming back to their natural position.
"Just don't do anything stupid," Lo'ak chimed in once again, getting a chuckle from the group and a sigh from his brother.
I TRIED TO DO A LITTLE MODERN AU DRABBLE HERE IDK TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK? 🤍
Guys I need Neteyam ideas! 😭✋ for the first time I have a free evening and the weather is twilighting and I’m gonna make a cup of tea and WRITE but WHAT DO I WRITE.
Hi! I loved reading your birthday fic (this one: link)—it’s so good 💛 I really hope you continue to share your works with us.
It’s also a perfect fit for this writing event running until April 19th by @junebugonjupiter, called Pandora in Bloom. I just wanted to mention that if you’d like, you could defintely use this piece to participate. It fits Prompt 25: Happy Birthday amazingly —you’d just need to tag it #pandorainbloom.
Lots of loveee!
Oh my goodness! Thank you! (LOVE YOUR WORKS TOO BTW) 🥹 I'm so excited to be sharing my stories! I've been on Tumblr for so long, but never really gave the chance to fully become a writer on here and then recently I was like 'fudge it'!
And the event?! That's so cool, thank you! Definitely going to add the tag now! 🩵
summary: You and the Sullys step away from the village for a while. You find comfort in forgetting duty, playing like kids. When Neteyam wants to prove he really is a mighty warrior, you decide to prove him wrong.
warnings: Pining, fluff, a teeeeeeny bit suggestive, kind of shy reader at the start
word count: 1k
The forest winds blew gently through the trees above the spot where you sat. Kiri's voice ruffling within the sounds of leaves that engulfed you. You sat with crossed legs beside her, and she scolded Lo'ak for something you weren't paying attention to as Tuk nudged herself closer beside you.
"No, bro! You're supposed to pay attention to the movement, not the sound." Lo'ak protested, flailing his arms towards his sister. As if his movements would make him more convincing.
"But you cannot see behind you?" Kiri looked at her brother, shaking her head.
"That's not the point-" Lo'ak screeched, slightly too loud, as Neteyam grabbed his shoulders from behind, ruffling his hair.
"Skxawng!" Lo'ak swatted his brother's hand away from his hair.
"You're always supposed to be listening, little bro," Neteyam chuckled as he placed himself down beside you, too close, brushing his thighs against yours, in a way that made your heart beat to the rhythm of his laughter. His arms leaned behind you, steadying himself in a comfortable position as he looked back to Lo’ak, "One day you won't even hear a nantang at your heel."
"Oh, really? And you would?" Lo'ak teased. He knew his brother would, but riling him up was more fun than admitting he was wrong about his earlier argument with Kiri. You sat silently between them, hands in your lap, holding Tuk up, as you listened with amusement.
You rolled your eyes at their antics as Kiri placed her head in her hands, bending herself forward, "You know he would", she stated simply, sending you a short knowing smile.
Lo'ak scoffed, turning his attention back to his brother, "Okay, mighty warrior. Prove it"
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And that was how you found yourself amidst the game you used to play as children. The rules were simple. You would pull twigs from one hand, and the shortest one played the nantang. As everyone sat quietly dispersed below the trees, eyes closed, the nantang stands quietly and 'hunts its prey'.
The aim of the game? For the nantang, it is to get as close as possible and make the prey flinch, and for the young na'vi, the goal is to listen to every sound, knowing exactly when the nantang is close enough to tap you; if you flinch at it, you die. And no one would know who the nantang was.
Of course, being in the middle of this ridiculous fued, you had pulled the shortest twig. Not only had you have to indulge in these antics, but you had to become a full participant, playing the predator. Your plan of simply walking back to the village, slipping away.
As you slowly walked around between the trees, you knew the Sullys weren't too far apart, but it was fun to make them wait as you took your time. You looked above the tree line, following the vines across the trunks as you brought your eyes down to a patch of blue.
Slowly, you peeked past a tree, your eyes lingering on Neteyams' hunched shoulders as his ears twitched at the sound of the forest. The side of his face was trailed by the patterns of the rays from above the canopy. You hated to admit that you stared a little too long. Blush creeping up your neck, you thank Eywa that his eyes were closed.
You trailed towards his figure, watching every step beneath you, being as quiet as you could, but when you saw his stupid smirk, you grew very frustrated very quickly. He was annoyingly good at everything he did, and he was never shy to show it. You didn't know why you were so bent on proving him wrong; perhaps it was your stubborn nature.
Or perhaps it was the way his lips curved into the same knowing smile he always had when he made you blush. When his tail would brush your lower thighs when he walked past, when he would fix your stray hairs in the wind, or when he brushed his fingers against yours, always leaving you glowing purple like a Syekalin. It infuriated you how you could never make him blush the same.
But now, his stupid, stupid, handsome smile burned something deep within your chest.
You stepped closer to him, an arm's length away. You knew he heard you, and you knew that he wasn't going to flinch if you tapped him now. So you waited.
You lingered behind him, his shoulders reaching the middle of your thighs, watching his ears twitch at every breath you hitched when you followed the stripes along his muscles. You took your time analyzing the map of his back, hating how you thought of what it would feel like to run your palms against it.
Quietly, bending down at the waist, your breath faint against his ear, you brought your right hand down to level with his bicep. You brought two of your fingers towards it. Placing your pointer and middle finger against a darker stripe.
This time, you changed the rules slightly.
Instead of a gentle tap, you kept your fingers there. He didn't flinch.
Slowly, you began to drag your fingers up his arm towards his shoulder. Your fingers trailed slowly like treesap, bringing them closer to the peak of his shoulder. He still didn't flinch.
But his smirk faltered.
This time, standing low behind him, you tilted your hand forward, dragging your fingers across the skin above the bone of his collar.
His breath hitched. But didn't flinch, not yet.
Letting your fingers linger, you brought them closer towards the curve of his neck. Just as you pressed your fingers to the soft spot, where you could feel his pulse, you wondered how many times his heart beat this fast at your touch. You gently pushed your legs forward, your thighs softly pressing against his shoulders, letting out a small, satisfied hum.
That's when you felt it.
A small but unmistakable flinch.
You detached your skin from his, bending down to his ear, "You die, mighty warrior."
GUYS, FINALLY I POSTED AGAIN!
Please comment if you like this one, cos I'm kinda nervous to post this one omg 🫣
Part 2??????
summary: It's Neteyam's 18th birthday, and you've finally decided this was the day you were going to confess your not-so-tiny crush on him. When you finally gathered up the courage, you didn't know you had an audience.
warnings: Pining, FLUFF, wordless confessions, a little anxiety.
word count: 1,6k
The day had gone by like any other day in the Omiticaya clan, besides the whispers and congratulations thrown around towards the Sully family, but none of them came from you. You felt bad that you hadn't seen the eldest Sully son all day; you'd basically spent every moment of daylight together, but today was different. Not only was it his birthday, but it was the day you would finally tell him how you felt about him. It scared you to even think of his face. His stupid, handsome face.
You tugged at your skin atop your collarbone as you begged for your mind to focus on the salve in front of you rather than the dread of the possible rejection you could face tonight. Your plan was simple, really simple, and a tad suspiciously too planned. You'd spent most of the day by the river, just outside the village, collecting the tiniest iridescent shells on the outskirts of the water. Picking up only the ones that you thought he would like. When you'd finally arrived back in your own pod, you had exhaled anxiously, but grateful your family wasn't there tonight.
They knew how much you liked him. Eywa, the whole village seemed to know at this point. The way you looked at him, the way you always listened intently to everything he said, the way you seemed to reboot every time his hands touched yours. And this only caused your 2 older brothers (and Lo'ak) to tease you relentlessly.
You had crushed the shells into small, sand-like sizes, mixing them with a bit of salve that smelt like the flowers commonly found on trees around the village, which Neteyam had brought you the night before.
You stood in the corner of your home pod, rubbing your hands against your skin, praying to Ewya that the salve would dry soon, leaving your skin with small iridescent markings along your stripes. Among the salve prayers, you hoped he felt the same. A part of you thought it was possible. A sickeningly hopeful part of you. He would always walk beside you in the village, following you towards the rivers. He hunted with you, always a step forward with his arm flicking in front of you at every noise he didn't recognise. He would bring you your favourite fruits or flowers every night, wishing you sweet dreams, and every time, a grin would fill his face as he said, 'But then you'd have to dream of me.'
It really wasn't fair anymore. You didn't know if all those moments were something deeper, or just you hoping they meant something to him, the way they meant something to you. Which is why you now stood in the village, face tinted a warm purple as you looked around the fire.
Na'vi danced around the fire, children ran between them giggling, and some warriors scattered, sitting on the floor, rehashing their hunting stories. And yet, you didn't stand close enough to join in on the celebrations. You couldn't. To put it lightly, you were nervous. Your hands shook slightly while you played with the edge of your loincloth that clung to your hips, waiting to hear a familiar voice or see a familiar face somewhere in the crowd.
This is pathetic, really.
You thought as you stood. He probably doesn't care that he hasn't seen you today-
"Hey, Sevin (pretty)." You quickly turned around to find him standing right behind you. Close. So close you could see the illumination of his freckles across his muscles. You swallowed.
"Hey.." you smiled more shyly than usual. " I haven't seen you all day," he pointed out, his voice warm, taking another step closer. This time, reaching out to hold your forearm in his hand.
"I know, I'm sorry," you exhaled. It was pointless trying to think of an excuse. You couldn't tell him that you had spent the entire day pacing around the river just to look nice for him. That you spent hours convincing yourself that you could tell him. Hoping that when he saw your skin sparkle, he could possibly mistake it for an actual spark.
He reached his other hand towards your collarbone, his calloused fingers dragging across the bone gently as he traced your bioluminescent freckles that were covered in smaller pieces of glitter, which reflected a different shade of light every time your chest moved with your lungs. He noticed instantly that you had painted the highlights of your body with your salve. He always did. And he knew you only ever did it when you felt that a special moment deserved it or simply wanted to feel prettier. Not that you need it, he always thought, but he would be lying if he said it didn't make you look more ethereal than normal. His heart quickened its pace, but his face didn't show it. Only a pleased, thoughtful grin plastered his face as he spoke, "For me?"
You scoffed. Terribly. Even you could tell it was fake. "No. For me". It wasn't entirely a lie. Yes, you hoped he would think you looked pretty, but a part of you felt better knowing that he liked it. A part of you hoped he knew that it was for him. And that part of you was needed if you were going to bring up the courage to tell him anything tonight.
He shook his head, displeased, but his smile never faultered "It better be for me if it's staining my fingers tonight". Your poor heart couldn't take it anymore. Not his tender voice, not his tender fingers that burned your skin, not his tender eyes that never looked away from you.
You grabbed his arm, firm but gently, and dragged him away. You could hear his quiet, amused laugh behind you, but you paid too much attention to the sound of your own heart that jumped to the rhythm of his voice. You didn't know why you brought him outside the pods of your homes. The only thing you wanted right now was privacy, and considering the time of night and the burning fires deeper in the village, you figured everyone was dancing there, leaving their homes unattended. If you had to walk all the way into the forest now, you were scared you would convince yourself not to tell him anything at all.
"Sevin, what are you doing?" he spoke gently, curiosity slipping off his voice, syrupy slow. This is it.
You turned to face him."I- I wanted to tell you. For the longest time. I really did, but then I was scared, and you.. Well, you being you, always confident. It's not easy, okay!" You spoke so fast that you forgot to take breaths in between your words. Searching his eyes for some sort of recognition at your words, your almost confession, but you found nothing but amusement.
"So you're telling me something today? For my birthday?" he looked calm. Too calm, and it irritated you how much you had to say tonight.
"Yes," you didn't know what more to say. "Happy birthday?.." Okay, maybe not that. You could see he was expecting more, confusion, and entertainment in his eyes. Speaking wasn't working, and before he could continue, you did the only other thing you've ever wanted to do.
You kissed him.
His eyes widened at the touch. Not quite registering what was happening. You didn't know how long he wanted to do this himself. He noticed that your voice was shaky tonight, and he hoped you would finally tell him how you felt. He knew. But he never wanted to rush you. And truthfully, he enjoyed making you blush every time he leaned in too close, every time his tail brushed your thigh, every time he told you that you were beautiful, but he never expected you to be the one to kiss him.
The way both your hands rested on the sides of his face, the slight tremble in them, noticeable, only melted him, while your tail wrapped itself around his thigh. You pulled back quickly, regretful. He didn't move when you kissed him. Maybe you were wrong.
Your thoughts shattered as he stepped forward, following your lips like a viperwolf cub, eyes full of something you couldn't name. Your heart hammered fast. But as he leaned down, that's when you noticed it. Behind his shoulder, his family. Right at the entrance of their pod. Every single Sully stood eyes wide, staring right at you. You placed your hand quickly on his chest as you breathed his name. He turned himself around, following your widened gaze. He stiffened quickly, "shit.."
"Surprise?.." Lo'ak finally broke the quiet. Lifting his arms in mockery, with a small, awkward smile on his face.
Mortified.
That is what you felt. Not only had you kissed Neteyam, but you did it with his family watching. The only thing that kept your heart from fully falling out of your chest was how Neteyam chased to kiss you again.
You didn't know what to do. So you tried to run. Very stupid. Very much impossible when Neteyam grabbed your arm, keeping you in place. His pupils took up most of the space in his eyes, his smile sickly sweet with a glint of mischief, as he turned back to his family with no words.
Neytiri breathed out slowly, nodded once, and spoke, "Finally".
That was all she said as she turned back into the pod, a small, barely noticeable smile on her face. Your heart lightened. If the whole village knew about your crush on the eldest Sully boy, then his family probably did too.
Jake grinned, ear to ear, "Took you two long enough", he said before following his mate inside. You blushed a dark purple, looking down at your feet.
Neteyam leaned closer, and your ears twitched as you felt his breath. Your confidence slipped away, morphing you back into your usual shy self. "Come with me."
Guys this is my first Avatar post eeeeeek!!! Let me know what you think!!!
Written for pandora in bloom writing event by @junebugonjupiter!
Prompt 25: happy birthday
@cottoncloudcake told me about this! 🩵 Go check out her blog!!!
