Rie

she/her | mostly nsfw 💜

[paskalinn]

☽ ⋆ ⋅ ──── late night fever

𑁍ࠬܓbaby fever hits neteyam— and hell yeah he’s gonna fuck you until it sticks.

☽ fem! na’vi reader, nsfw as fuck, baby fever! neteyam, being folded in half like a lawn chair, neteyam stuffing you full and then fucking you prone bone to “make sure it sticks.”

☽ m.list

Neteyam says he’s exempt from baby fever.

Liar.

Look, it’s not because everyone his age has suddenly started popping babies out like the clan made it a challenge and forgot to tell Neteyam. Or even the fact that Lo’ak— yes Lo’ak, has managed to become a father first.

When he thinks about, truly pictures it in his mind’s eye, it’s the sight of you— parading through the clan, belly round with his baby, that settles a heat in his blood that’s impossible to ignore.

The intensity of his longing for it hit him all at once, and it left him with unsteady legs and a hammering heart.

Neteyam would give his left arm to pin you in a mating press and watch your features twist as he sinks inside every other hour of the day. Loves to see his cock split you open then pull out even slicker than before.

“You are so tight,” Neteyam murmurs an inch from your face. “I can feel your heartbeat around my cock.” His fingers dimple the skin on the backs of your thighs as his grip tightens, pinning your knees to your chest.

You fist the soft grass below, nails digging into soft soil, and cry out when he thrusts harder. “Neteyam!” You cry, neck arching when he repeats the same heavy motion, rocking you against the dirt.

“Yes,” he breathes, the rhythmic wet smack of skin connecting filling the air. “I want to see what kind of baby our love will shape.” His voice is breathy and low, thick with arousal.

You tighten around him and his hips stutter with a hitch of his breath. “Do not stop—” you choke. “You better give me a baby!”

“Eywa..” Neteyam moans, the word roughly torn from his throat. He kisses you hotly, sucking on your lower lip and letting it go with a pop. “Close— I am going to—” Neteyam gasps against your mouth, thrusting one last time as he grinds his hips against your ass, cock twitching heavily as he spills.

Shocks flashes across your face when he pulls out abruptly and manhandles you onto your belly, dirt suddenly squished against your cheek. “What are you doing?”

Neteyam straddles your thighs, pushing his cock through the mess and back inside you with a moan. “We have to make sure I put a baby in there, yes?” He braces a hand on either side of your shoulders and rolls his hips deep.

His name echoes in the trees, and Neteyam shushes you as he fucks you into the forest floor.

[vaniellea]

Lo’ak catches his friend and his brother, Neteyam fucking

WC. 3.7K

Lo’ak’s still damp from his swim, river water drying in uneven patches on his skin as he makes his way back through the village. 

He throws lazy waves at familiar faces, trading a few half-hearted greetings, fingers brushing against other palms in passing. 

It’s easy, mindless—until he spots Spider.

Spider’s leaned back against a trunk, arms folded, like he’s been waiting. Lo’ak lifts his hand automatically, five fingers spread.

“Hey, bro.” Their palms meet with a solid smack, fingers curling for a second before they pull away.

“Hey. Where were you?” Spider eyes the droplets still clinging to Lo’ak’s braids.

“Just taking a swim,” Lo’ak says, shoulders rolling in a casual shrug. His tail flicks behind him, relaxed.

Spider’s mouth curls. “I was on a date with Kiri.”

Lo’ak stares at him for half a beat, then makes a face so dramatic it hurts. “Ew, bro. Just—no. Ewwww.” He clamps his hands over his ears and squeezes his eyes shut, like that’ll erase the image.

Spider laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Relax, skxawng.”

Lo’ak drops his hands and blows out a sigh, still grimacing. “Where is Neteyam?”

Spider glances around too, like they might just materialize. “Haven’t seen him. Thought he was with you.”

Lo’ak shakes his head. “No idea. We should look for him or Mom’s gonna blame me somehow.”

Spider snorts. “True.” He pushes off the tree. “I’ll check by the rivers.”

“I’ll go forest,” Lo’ak says, already turning away. 

It’s not really weird for Neteyam and you to disappear together like this. 

You always come back with some story about flying or exploring or “just riding,” like it’s nothing. 

They both swore they’d never date—too different, too much history, too much of everything.

Lo’ak has never bothered to question it.

He heads deeper into the trees, following the path he’s seen you and Neteyam take a hundred times. 

The forest wraps around him, thick and familiar. The buzz of insects and distant animal calls fills his ears, a constant, comforting noise.

Then something cuts through it.

A soft, breathy, unmistakable sound. “Mh… ah…” And underneath it, a wet, steady smack-smack-smack.

Lo’ak stops walking.

For a second he just stands there, listening, brows knitting together. 

It could be anything, he tells himself, but his chest tightens and curiosity curls sharp under his ribs. He shifts his weight, ears twitching as he picks up the direction. His first instinct is to turn around.

He doesn’t.

He starts moving toward the sound, quieter now. He tells himself he just wants to make sure no one’s in trouble. That’s all. That’s it.

 And maybe—yeah—he’s curious. He’s never gone all the way with Tsireya. They’ve kissed, they’ve touched, but nothing like the raw, honest noise that’s pulling him in now.

A cave entrance appears ahead, half-hidden by hanging vines. On the rock beside it, two thumbprints have been pressed into the wall in red paste, dragged and curved into a rough heart. The paint looks newer than everything else around it, edges still dark.

Lo’ak’s throat goes dry.

Just a quick look, he tells himself. Just long enough to see who it is, and then he’ll leave. No harm done. 

His heart is pounding harder now, so loud it nearly drowns out the moans.

He steps closer, back flattening to the wall as he edges up to the opening. He leans forward, very slowly, head peeking around the stone.

And then everything stops.

It’s Neteyam.

His brother. 

His perfect, responsible brother. 

With her—one of his closest friends.

Neteyam, on his knees on the cave floor, body pressed tight to yours. 

Your top is shoved up carelessly around your chest, and your breasts are bouncing with every solid snap of his hips. His cock is buried deep inside you, sliding in and out in a rhythm that looks practiced, his body moving like he knows exactly how to make you fall apart.

Your wrists are pinned above your head in one of his hands, fingers wrapped around both of your wrists like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

His other hand is braced beside your shoulder, steadying himself. 

His face is twisted in concentration and pleasure, brows drawn together, mouth hanging open. 

You’re looking up at him with this dazed, soft expression—eyes heavy, lips parted, cheeks flushed.

Your legs are spread wide around his hips, knees bent and drawn up to give him more room, more access. 

Every thrust pushes a little noise out of you. 

Little whimpers. 

Quiet, breathy sounds that don’t sound like pain at all.

Lo’ak’s stomach flips. 

His body goes cold and hot at the same time. 

Part of him wants to shout his name, pull him back, do something, but he’s rooted to the spot, hand halfway raised and frozen.

Maybe Neteyam’s forcing you. Maybe you don’t want this.

He opens his mouth, breath catching—

“Yes… oh my! nete, right there,” you gasp, voice breaking on a moan. Your hips roll up to meet his, chasing him, grinding against him like you’re trying to pull him deeper.

Lo’ak’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. The words die in his throat.

Neteyam’s head tips back, his braids shifting with the motion. 

His eyes squeeze shut and a low sound tears out of him as his hips stutter for a second, then pick up again. 

He leans down, his chest pressing flush to yours as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight, almost protective hug. 

His face buries into your neck, nose and lips pressed against your skin as his thrusts speed up.

Your arms slip free from his grip, winding around his shoulders and neck, fingers immediately finding his braids and fisting in them. 

You cling to him, nails dragging lightly over his back. 

You sound like you’re about to cry, but nothing in you reads as scared. Just overwhelmed. Just wrecked.

“I’m cumming,” you huff, the words catching in your throat, your back arching off the ground.

Neteyam slows, but he doesn’t pull out. 

His hips shift from sharp thrusts to slower, deeper rolls, grinding his cock inside you. 

It’s almost worse; you whine at the change, frustrated and needy. 

He lifts his head and looks down at you, a slow smile spreading across his face as he watches you squirm.

“Easy,” he says, voice low, a little smug. He leans in and kisses you—your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth—little, soft kisses like they’re habit. 

Lo’ak’s chest tightens at the intimacy in it. This isn’t some random hookup. This is his brother being gentle.

“You like it, hm?” Neteyam murmurs against your skin, his accent heavier, words dragging. You nod—too fast, too eager.

“You wanna cum?” he asks, lips brushing your ear now, his teeth just grazing the shell.

Your head moves in another frantic nod, a small sound punched out of you.

“Then you’ll have to do it yourself,” he says, and there’s a grin in his voice.

He pulls out slowly, his cock sliding free of you with a slick sound. 

Your body shudders at the loss, and Lo’ak can see the shine between your thighs, the way your previous orgasms have left you messy and wet. 

Neteyams own cum falling out of you from his own previous orgasms. 

Neteyam lies back beside you, then shifts fully onto his back, one arm relaxed behind his head, the other reaching for you.

“Come here,” he says, fingers curling around your thigh. Your leg trembles as he guides you over him, helping you swing a leg across his hips.

Your legs are shaking so hard you have to catch yourself with your hands on his stomach as you hover above him. 

You let out this fragile little whine, your muscles clearly on the edge, but you steady yourself and start to sink down. 

His cock pushes back into you, slowly stretching you around him again.

“Yes,” you moan the moment you’re seated fully, and this time you don’t bother easing into it.

You start moving—pushing up with your thighs, lifting yourself just enough to slam back down onto him. 

The pace you set is fast, almost frantic. 

Your hands dig into his abdomen for balance, fingers splaying over his skin, and your head dips backwards , chin tucking out from your chest because it’s too much effort to hold yourself perfectly upright. 

Your hair swing with each bounce, and the sound of your bodies meeting—wet, sharp, constant—fills the cave.

Your ass hits his hips again and again, the impact making everything in Lo’ak’s head stutter. 

This isn’t clumsy or new. This is familiar. Rehearsed. Comfortable. They’ve done this before—more than once.

Especially when he hears Neteyam’s voice, softer now, slipping out between strained breaths.

“Ma yawne,” he rasps. “My pretty girl. That’s it. Just like that.”

You fall apart again, a sharp, high whine ripped out of you as your back arches and your rhythm falters a your orgasm hits you hard. 

Neteyam’s hands fly up to catch your hips, holding you steady, fingers digging in to keep you from collapsing completely.

Lo’ak thinks it has to be over. It has to be. His chest is tight. He’s sweating and can’t even remember when he started.

But Neteyam’s not done.

Still lying on his back, he starts thrusting up into you from below, meeting your movements even as they get sloppy and weak. Your moans go messy, words dissolving into broken sounds.

“I know, baby, I know,” he pants, jaw clenched. “I’m close. I promise.”

You shake your head, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Overstimulation has you shivering, shoulders hunching forward, breath catching on every exhale.

“Take it for me, please,” he begs, voice cracking around the edges now. His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you down harder, like he’s afraid you’ll lift off and run.

Tears finally slip free, tracking down your cheeks. You’re not sobbing, but you’re clearly past your limit. Neteyam sees it. Lo’ak can see him see it.

“Don’t cry,” Neteyam says, and his voice softens in an instant. “I’m right here.” His thumbs rub circles into your skin, trying to soothe even as his body refuses to stop moving.

“I want to wipe them,” he says, a helpless little laugh breaking through, “but you feel so good.”

He keeps thrusting up into you, relentless, his grip on your hips guiding you down each time his hips rise. You finally give in and collapse forward, chest pressing against his. Your arms slide around him, your face burying into his neck. 

From Lo’ak’s angle, he can see the way your fingers curl into his shoulders, hanging on.

“Am I making you feel good?” Neteyam asks, and the question comes out half-moan, half-prayer.

You nod weakly against him, a broken sound leaving your throat. It’s enough.

He slams up into you one last time, deeper than before, and goes still—body tense, muscles straining as he spills inside you with a ragged groan. His hand slides up your back, holding you there while he rides it out.

Lo’ak realizes his own hand is clamped over his mouth, nails digging into his cheek. His heart is racing so fast it hurts. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there.

You’re still for a moment, then your head turns on Neteyam’s chest. Your eyes are closed, lashes damp with tears, breathing uneven. Slowly, they flutter open.

They land right on him.

Your whole body jolts. “Lo’ak,” you breathe, horror coloring your voice.

He doesn’t think. He doesn’t speak. He just turns and bolts, feet pounding against the ground as he runs, heat burning his face and filling his chest with a mess of emotions he has no words for.

Neteyam’s still catching his breath, chest heaving under you, his cock softening deep inside as the last shudders fade. Your whisper cracks the haze. “Lo’ak.”

His head snaps up, golden eyes wide as he follows your frozen stare to the cave mouth. Lo’ak’s gone—nothing but shadows and the fading crunch of footsteps—but the damage is done. 

In the jolt, his cock slips free from you with a wet sound, a thick trickle of his cum spilling out of your pussy, warm and messy down your inner thighs.

“Skxawng,” Neteyam mutters, half curse, half laugh, though his voice shakes. He shifts quick beneath you, hands gentle but firm on your hips as he helps lift you off him completely. “He saw.”

You scramble back on shaky legs, thighs slick with your mixed releases, heat flooding your face as you feel more of him leak out. 

“Oh my god—shit, Neteyam, he saw everything.” Your hands fumble for your top, yanking it down over your chest, fabric sticking awkwardly where sweat and slick have smeared.

He’s already moving, rolling to his knees and snatching his loincloth from the cave floor. 

“Hey, hey—breathe, ma yawne.” His voice stays steady, even as he ties the ties with quick, jerky pulls. 

But his eyes dart to the entrance every few seconds, ears twitching for pursuit. “We’ll fix it. He’s my brother—he won’t say anything. Not yet.”

You snatch your bottoms, fingers clumsy as you try to lace them up one-handed, the other tugging your top straight—ignoring the sticky warmth still dripping between your legs. 

“Won’t say anything? He ran. Like he saw a thanator.” A panicked laugh bubbles out, more sob than sound. 

“What if he tells Spider? Or Lo’ak blabs to everyone—your dad, Jake, the whole clan?”

Neteyam’s on his feet now, stepping close to help. 

His fingers brush yours aside, deftly retying the stubborn straps on your hips with a practiced touch—careful around the fresh mess. 

“He won’t. Lo’ak’s mouthy, but he’s loyal.” He straightens, cupping your face quick—thumbs swiping at the tear tracks still drying on your cheeks. “We knew this could happen. Secrets don’t keep forever.”

You lean into his palm for half a second, then pull back, grabbing your hair to twist it into some semblance of order. 

Strands are everywhere, tangled from his fists earlier. “Yeah, well, we kept it secret for a reason. no teasing from those idiots, no Jake side-eyeing you like ‘you’re distracted, son—focus on training.’” Your voice pitches lower, mimicking Jake’s gruff tone. “And now? This is worse than awkward. It’s mortifying.”

He snorts, grabbing a loose vine to scrape the worst of the red paste heart off the cave wall—evidence. 

“You think I don’t know that? But hiding forever wasn’t the plan.” He finishes with the wall, turns back, and steps in to help with your hair—fingers combing gently through the knots, parting it smooth like he’s done a hundred times after moments like this. 

“We tell him straight. Tonight. Me and you, together. No lies—just the truth. ”

Your hands still as he works, the familiar pull of his touch grounding you a little. “And say what? ‘Sorry bro, been fucking in caves—wanna be best man?’” You huff, but there’s no heat in it, just frayed nerves.

Neteyam chuckles low, tying off the last braid with a quick twist. “Something like that. Minus the cave part first.” He steps back, scanning you top to bottom—fixes one last crooked strap, smooths a wrinkle. You do the same for him, straightening his beads, brushing dirt from his shoulder. Domestic, even in panic.

He takes your hand, squeezing firm. “Come on. We find him before he spirals. ” His finger taps your leg for more reassurance. “He’ll get it. Or he’ll sulk, but he’ll get it.”

You nod, heart still hammering, but his calm seeps in. “Okay. Together.”

You slip out of the cave hand-in-hand, frantic steps carrying you back toward the village—already rehearsing the words, bracing for Lo’ak’s wide-eyed chaos.

-

Lo’ak’s avoidance hits like a slow burn the second you all touch down back at camp. 

It’s subtle at first—just a quick dodge when Neteyam claps a hand on his shoulder, murmuring “baby brother” like always. 

Lo’ak doesn’t even glance back. Just yells some random name into the crowd, like the wind stole Neteyam’s voice entirely. 

He weaves through hunters, tents, kids—anywhere but near you two. By evening, it’s clear: he’s ghosting hard.

Two days drag like that. 

Neteyam tries everything—casual nudges by the fire, quiet pulls aside during training. Nothing sticks. The stress etches fine lines around his eyes, and it seeps into you both. 

He’s canceled two dates now. 

Never snaps, never frustrated in that sharp way. 

Just cups your hands gentle in his, forehead resting warm against yours, breath mingling. “I’m sorry, princess. Gotta try to talk to him tonight.”

You pout, fingers tracing his jaw. “Well, he’s not talking to me either. ”

“I know, ma yawne.” His thumbs stroke your knuckles, eyes soft but tired. “Tomorrow—me and you. Promise. No distractions.” He presses a lingering kiss to your palm, like he’s sealing it.

But tomorrow doesn’t come. 

It’s the same quiet cycle: chase Lo’ak, hit the wall, circle back to you with apologies and that same vow. Rinse. Repeat. You feel the ache of it in stolen moments—his hand squeezing yours a beat too tight, the way he lingers before pulling away.

Then Jake calls the shot. 

Simple errand: fly to the Clouded Forest, grab fabric from the outpost. Come back. 

The three of you gear up without fanfare, mounting your ikrans in tense silence. 

Neteyam leads point, you tight on his wing, Lo’ak lagging deliberate at the rear. 

You swear you feel his stare drilling into your back the whole flight—hot, unspoken. 

The air between you feels thick, wrong. 

Normally you’d fly playful alongside him, yelling dumb jokes over the wind, racing dives. 

But every time you ease closer now, he guns ahead or drops low—creating space like it burns.

You hate it. 

Hate how your best friend’s freezing you out over this. Over Neteyam. Your chest tightens with every evasive loop he pulls.

Your ikran keens sharp mid-flight—hunger screech. 

You yell it to Neteyam, voice carrying clear beside you. 

He nods once, quiet and sure, then twists back to signal Lo’ak with a broad hand wave: land. 

You don’t look; don’t need to. The sarcastic huff floats up faint from behind.

They touch down in a misty clearing by a stream, wings folding with rustles. 

Your ikran dives straight for fish, snapping at the water with focused splashes. You slide off her flank, leaning against a rock to watch—arms crossed, picking at a loose thread on your strap. 

Anything to avoid the heavy quiet. 

Neteyam hangs back deliberate a few paces away, perched on his own ikran’s saddle, gaze flicking between you and the trees. 

Giving space. 

Lo’ak won’t even turn your way—back rigid, fiddling endless with his gear pouch, shifting foot to foot like ants crawl under his skin. Ten minutes stretch. No one speaks. The only sounds are water, ikran gulps, distant bird calls.

Then it breaks—low, muttered, but sharp enough to cut: “If you guys wanna hold hands or whatever… just do it, man.”

You turn slow. He’s slouched against his ikran’s side, sulk carved deep—shoulders in, eyes on the dirt.

Neteyam’s head snaps up. “What’re you talking about?” It comes out edged, protective—like Lo’ak’s slinging it at you. His face tightens, ears pinning back a fraction.

Lo’ak pivots gradual, arms folding loose. “I’m just saying… you two haven’t been hanging out. Or whatever.” A beat, jaw working. “If you’re gonna fuck, just say it..”

“Watch your mouth.” Neteyam’s off his saddle smooth and fast, feet hitting ground as he closes half the distance. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Neteyam,” you say soft, stepping forward—but it’s like white noise to them, locked in.

Lo’ak’s eyes flash. “You wanna know? You’re fucking my best friend. The girl I used to ramble about nonstop—crush so bad I told you everything.” He stops, chest rising quick, the words hanging raw. Silence crashes in, thicker now. Your face burns; old memories twist awkward in your gut.

Neteyam steps closer, looming but not crowding—just steady force. “You don’t get to throw that.”

“Then why hide it like some big Eywa-forsaken secret?” Lo’ak bites back.

“It’s not like that, Lo,” you murmur, fingers twisting at the skin of your arms—nervous habit. “We just… wanted our own space..”

He glances your way, first real look in days. “How long?”

Your voice stays even. “Started after you got back from the reefs. We… leaned on each other about stress and stuff... A lot.”

His shoulders sag a touch, tone dipping softer. “So you’re what—fuck buddies now?”

Neteyam huffs quiet, almost a laugh—steps in to clap Lo’ak’s arm, firm but fond. “Do we look like the type to make love for no reason, baby brother?”

Lo’ak blinks. “Anyone else know?”

“Only our moms. And now you.” Neteyam’s smile breaks real, warm—tension cracking.

Lo’ak exhales long and heavy, like he’s been holding it two days straight. Weight lifts visible from his frame. “Oh. Shit… that actually makes me feel better.” He scrubs hands up behind his head, slouching carefree all sudden. “Had me thinking everyone knew but me.”

You can’t help the snort. “If we’re honest? Pretty sure everyone did know but you.”

Neteyam turns to you, grin splitting wide. Laugh rumbles out low. “Yeah—sneaking off every night. Every morning. Every afternoon.”

“Right?” You match his laugh. “‘Just riding ikran.’” He pitches his voice high, mocking the old cover lame as hell, and you both crack up harder.

“Well—” Lo’ak draws it, smirk tugging now, ice fully thawed.

“Bro, teach me how to make a girl moan like that.” He launches into it—exaggerated “ahh-ahh-AHHH neteeew right thereeee” from the cave, puckering sloppy kissy faces, arms flailing dramatic.

“Skxawng!” You lunge swatting, half laughing, but he bolts, cackling wild around the ikran. Neteyam leans back on his saddle, arms crossed easy, that quiet, sure smile fixed soft. Watching his girl—his future, mother of his kids—chase his brother like nothing changed.

Lowkey idk

Part two here!

[hon3y0logy]

Notice Me

Neteyam x Reader

Summary: All of your friends were pursuing or have already found their mate, but you on the other hand weren’t focused nor worrying about that and it made it extra hard for the poor guy who was trying so hard to gain your attention.

The day you walked into Neteyams life he was absolutely taken by you. You were introduced to the Sully family by your mother who was one of the finest weavers in your clan, she had weaved them a baby basket for their newborn Tuk’tirey. You followed her path being one of the best in your age group. Anything you touch was gold.

Although you thought your skills were useless up against your dream of becoming a fierce warrior, the eldest Sully thought otherwise. Over the years of knowing you, he would always come to you if his loincloth had been torn in flight, asking for a new armband, a new vest, or asking you to create decorative tapestry art for his family’s home. (They got sick of him filling up the family’s space with stuff he didn’t need.) With each request, he would bring tools and accessories he found while he was hunting. He would always sit and listen to you sing weaving songs along with your fellow weaving circle. Little did you know, the man was infatuated.

“Sa’nok (mother) I’ll be back, I’m going to collect some trinkets from the forest.” Your mother responded with ‘be careful’ with a kind smile.

You secured your satchel over your shoulder and tucked your knife into its sheath. You swung open the flap of your home to be greeted by and well known face.

“Kaltixì (hello)” you greeted with a smile that he returned even brighter.

“You ready?” You nodded following him to his Ikran, he grabbed your hand helping you on.

“Is that a new top?”

Your cheeks warmed at the thought of him noticing “Yes I finished it yesterday.”

“It is beautiful, the colors of the beads suit you well.”

•••

You two landed gracefully outside the forest. He helped you off and walked alongside you. You excitedly got started, finding trinkets to add to your future crafts. Seeds you can sit out to dry, feathers, multicolored pebbles, and picking a few colorful flowers neatly putting them in your pouch, and even with medicinal herbs that could come in handy.

While you look around you felt a sense of longing, you missed the forest more than anything. It saddened you your clan had to move to high ground in order to be safe now the only way you could get here is by being a passenger on someone else’s Ikran.

“I miss this” you blurted out as you ran your fingers along the beautiful glowing plants.

“As do i” he chimed in.

He watched you for a moment longer than needed, eyes following the way the forest light kissed your skin. Working up the courage to present you with something’s he’s been holding onto. Then he reached into the satchel at his side.

“I made something for you,” Neteyam said quietly.

You turned, surprised, as he held out a woven armband tight, clean craftsmanship, threaded with deep blues and warm golds. His colors.

“For me?” you asked, genuinely shocked.

He nodded, suddenly shy. “For protection. And… so you think of me when you wear it.”

Your smile was instant and sincere as you slid it onto your slender arm. “I will treasure it. Irayo (thanks), Neteyam.” You didn’t notice the way his chest lifted, the way his ears flicked back in satisfaction. In his mind, it was done. You were claimed.

Sadly you weren’t aware of any of it.

•••

Back at the Hallelujah Mountains, the weaving circle buzzed with quiet talk and laughter. You sat cross-legged among your friends, hands moving easily as you reinforced tool wraps and braided cord for hunters.

“You’ve been smiling all day,” Na’vani teased, nudging you. “Something I should know?”

Before you could answer, a shadow fell across your work. “Kaltixì,” came a warm voice.

You looked up to see K’u’thal, spear resting at his side. He was well known through out your clan, talented in many ways especially when it came to hunting. Many women pursued him as a potential mate.

His eyes glanced over your work curious rather than bold. “What are you making?”

You happily explained with a smile, holding up your work, and he smiled softly, impressed. Soon the two of you were talking easily, sharing stories that had Na’vani grinning to herself.

Not far away, Neteyam watched.

His jaw tightened.

•••

A few days later the Tlalim Clan arrived, the rainforest came alive with voices and trade. Everyone and their loved ones were back where they belonged, children running around with toys in the shape of animals mimicking sounds, laughter echoing through the forest, and stories being told about clans you have yet to meet. It felt good.

As you walked around with an unwavering smile on your face, Neteyam found you near the stream.

“Finally I have found you” a smile adorned his face as he pressed a small bundle into your hands, hair beads carved from traded bone and shell.

“I saw them and thought of you,” he said.

Your smile widened and hugged him without thinking. “They are beautiful! Irayo (Thank you).”

He watched you basically float away convinced you finally understood his intentions.

•••

Later, at the communal dinner, Na’vani toyed with your armband, eyes dancing in the firelight. “Let me guess… K’u’thal?”

You laughed softly. “No, Neteyam made this.”

Her smile turned knowing just as K’u’thal appeared at your side, setting a small woven charm into your hands. Before you could protest or even thank him he was gone again, swallowed by the crowd.

Na’vani sighed, shaking her head in amusement. “Eywa help you,” she muttered. “You’re leading on two of the finest warriors our age and don’t even know it.”

Shocked by her statement you barely had time to respond before a hand closed around your wrist.

Neteyam.

He didn’t speak as he guided you away from the fire, past the laughter and music, until the noise dulled and it was just the two of you beneath the glow of the mountains. Only then did he turn to you, jaw tight, eyes burning.

“Why are you accepting gifts from him?” he asked, voice low and strained.

You recoiled slightly, confused and hurt. “What do you mean it’s harmless”

“Harmless? This is far from harmless he knows i am pursuing you as a mate yet he continues to fight for your attention.” Your eyes bulge.

“I- what? I thought you were pursuing Veyt’ari. That is word around the village.”

He scoffed softly, stepping closer causing your heart to beat just a little faster. “I do not want Veyt’ari.” He tilts his head and his voice dropped. “I want you.”

The world went quiet as he leaned in. Your ears perk and tail sway in anticipation.

When he kissed you, it was hesitant at first like he was giving you one last chance to pull away. Instead, you kissed him back, breathless, stunned, hands curling into his chest. The kiss deepened, years of unspoken longing finally breaking free.

When you pulled apart, both of you were flushed, foreheads resting together.

“Oh,” you whispered.

Neteyam smiled, satisfied at last.

“Yes, paskalin… oh.” (Sweet Berry)

•••

Extra

Neteyam didn’t realize how obvious he’d been until Lo’ak wouldn’t stop grinning at him across the fire.

“So,” his brother drawled, pulling meat off his skewer, “all it took was…what? Three years? Four?”

Neteyam shot him a warning look. “quiet.”

Kiri tilted her head, eyes glowing with amusement. “You know, most people say they’re courting someone. They don’t just… silently offer crafts and hope Eywa delivers the message.”

“She thought you were being nice?,” Tuk innocently chimed in, swinging her legs. “That’s kind of sad.”

Neteyam groaned, burying his face in his hands. Embarrassed that even his little sister caught on and she hasn’t even had the mating talk.

“I was clear.”

Lo’ak laughed outright. “Bro you literally watched another guy give her gifts and still said nothing , yeah that’s real clear”

Jake cleared his throat, lips twitching despite himself. “Alright that’s enough leave ‘em alone.”

“Son, next time…maybe use words.”

From across the clearing, you glanced over, confused by the sudden burst of laughter. Neteyam looked up just in time to see you smile at him.

Worth it.

Kiri leaned in, smirking. “Only took you years to get noticed.”

Neteyam didn’t argue, he was just happy now that he has you.

©hon3y0logy 2026 — any reposts or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission

Masterlist

[neteyamthinker]

there is only you

pairings aged-up!neteyam x omatikaya/olangi!female reader

notes heavy tuk and popiti involvement (in the spreading misinformation department), mutual pining, neteyam is emotionally constipated in the beginning 🙏🏻, angst to comfort, grovelling, reader is the kindest and sweetest person in the world, olangi clan exposure, reach around rough fingering, smut (p in v), oral (f receiving)

synopsis you’ve always liked neteyam but you’ve also always known that he’s far out of your league. you know where you stand, and not once did you ever dream of having him for yourself. you know he’ll never like you back anyway... but it's one thing to know and another to hear it from him.

word count 18.8k

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The heat of the communal kitchens always lingered on your skin long after the fires were banked. By the time you finished scrubbing the heavy clay pots and ensuring all the meals are served, the communal area of Hometree was already alive with the low hum of evening chatter.

Your shoulders ached. You wiped your hands on a woven cloth, scanning the area before heading toward the lower ledges where the older kids from the longhouse usually gathered, but as you approached, a couple of the older girls deliberately shifted their weight, sprawling their legs across the woven mats to block the empty space.

“Seats are taken,” one of them muttered before they smirked at each other. It wasn't outright malice, just the casual cruelty of kids who knew you would never push back. You were the girl who did everything for everyone, you weren't going to start a fight over a spot on the floor.

You swallowed the small lump of exhaustion in your throat and turned to find a quiet corner in the shadows.

“Y/N! Over here!”

Kiri’s voice cut through the noise and you turned around to see her waving frantically from a table near the center of the clearing, surrounded by Spider, Lo’ak, a few of their hunter friends, and him. Neteyam.

Your heart did its usual, foolish flutter, smiling at her before weaving through the crowd toward them. As you drew closer, you noticed the tight seating arrangement.

To be fair, it was filled with men of particularly larger physique. There was barely enough room for Spider, let alone another Na’vi. Neteyam scanned the table and saw the thoughts forming on your your face. You’re going to politely wave Kiri off and tell her you’d eat later instead. So, without a word, Neteyam’s elbow dug sharply into Lo’ak’s ribs.

“Ow!” Lo’ak hissed, nearly dropping his roasted meat.

“Move over,” Neteyam commanded in a low, authoritative murmur, shoving his brother a full foot to the left. Lo’ak grumbled under his breath but complied anyway, leaving a perfectly cleared space right beside Neteyam.

“Oh, there, Y/N!” Kiri offered the seat with a grin.

Neteyam looked up at you with a nonchalant look, acting as if he hadn’t just practically manhandled Lo’ak away. You rounded the table and slowly folded your legs beneath you to sit on the mat beside Neteyam.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you settled into the space. The heat radiating from his side was instantaneous, a contrast to the cool evening breeze filtering through the branches.

“You're late,” he noted, his eyes scanning your face, tracking the slight smudge of soot on your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered, stupidly going mute for a moment with how close he is and before you could actually answer, he reached to his side and pulled a large leaf toward you. Usually, you’re left with a random assortment of scraps when you sit with the other kids you live with at the longhouse, but this one was piled with the sweetest, most tender cuts of roasted meat and roots, and a handful of the rare blue berries you always picked when you go out to forage.

“Kiri prepared it,” he murmured and cleared his throat, pushing the leaf into your hands.

Kiri’s ear twitched at the mention of her name and she turned to the both of you.

You smiled when your eyes locked, “Thank you, Kiri. You shouldn't have bothered...” you said cheerfully.

Her brows furrowed. “For the seat? Sure. I always ask you to eat with us, I don’t know why you also always refuse.” she pouted.

You started eating the meat on your leaf, chuckling at her sulking. The young ones at the other table still need assistance with eating sometimes, and the ones your age are not always as attentive. Your hunger and the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast didn’t really register to you until you started downing your food.

Neteyam reached over before silently pushing a small wooden cup of water toward you. You grabbed it and drank the cool water gratefully, the soothing liquid easing the tightness in your chest. As you set the wooden cup down, your fingers brushed lightly against Neteyam’s. A faint, electric warmth jumped across your skin, making your pulse spike, but you forced your eyes to stay fixed on your food.

That was just Neteyam. He was always doing things like this, paying attention to the smallest details, noticing when someone’s cup was empty, sensing when a space needed to be cleared, or when someone needs help. And that was you. You are always in need of help.

So of course, the eldest son of Toruk Makto who was bred from birth to watch over the people, to lead with a watchful eye and a steady hand is always ready to give it. This kindness extends over everyone and not really a special favor to you, because it was simply the fabric of who he was. He was just as attentive to the young hunters learning to string their first bows.

You looked up briefly, watching from the corner of your eye as he laughed at a joke Spider made, his teeth flashing in an easy air, his shoulders relaxed.

You loved him.

You had loved him for as long as you could remember, but it wasn't the kind of love that demanded possession. You didn't dare dream of standing beside him as his mate, or wrapping your songcord around his wrist in front of the whole clan. To you, Neteyam was like the great Hometree itself. Magnificent, sheltering, and belonging to everyone. You were entirely content to admire him from the periphery, to be the quiet shadow that appreciated his warmth without ever asking to burn in it. Knowing that he was safe, that he was thriving, and that he would one day be the glorious leader the Omatikaya deserved... That was enough for you.

“Hey, Y/N,“ Lo’ak suddenly spoke up, breaking you out of your thoughts. He was leaning across the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked between you and his older brother. “You know, if you're always this hungry, you should just hunt with us. Neteyam here can teach you how to properly take down a hexapede. He would be so eager to share his wisdom with you.”

Neteyam’s ears immediately flared, pinning back slightly against his head. He didn't look at Lo’ak, but his jaw tightened. “What are you even talking about,” he calmly said in a low voice, bringing his cup to his lips to sip.

“She works in the kitchens and the nurseries, Lo’ak,” Kiri said, crossing her arms against her chest. “She doesn't need to waste her time missing targets with you.”

“I don't miss!” Lo'ak protested, throwing his hands up.

“You missed twice yesterday,” Neteyam retorted smoothly, his tone perfectly even, though he reached out and casually grabbed another sweet root from the center platter, dropping it onto your leaf without a word.

Across the circle, Kiri rested her chin in her hands, her gaze drifting between you and Neteyam with a quiet, knowing expression. She didn't say anything, but the subtle quirk of her brow made your forehead crease in confusion. You arranged the meat, roots, and fruit properly, scanning the table for a spare leaf to cover and fold it with, only to see all their leaves scantily discarded.

You bit your lip, planning to get up and get a fresh leaf. You hadn't even made a sound, but without breaking eye contact with the hunter he was speaking to, Neteyam’s hand shot out and gently caught your wrist. His grip was warm, his thumb resting right over your pulse point.

“Leaf?” he murmured over his shoulder to you, seamlessly continuing the conversation with the hunter. With his free hand, he grabbed a clean leaf from a neighboring table and gave it to you.

Across the circle, Lo’ak stopped chewing. He looked at Neteyam, then at you, and a slow, wicked smirk spread across his face watching you begin to fold the leaf.

“Are you full or are you just bothered with what Lo’ak said?” he asked quietly as their friends began to talk and laugh loudly.

Your forehead creased, chuckling. “I am full. I am bringing this back to the kids,” you said. “They tend to get really hungry in the middle of the night.”

Neteyam watched your hands work, his eyes tracking the neat, careful way you bind the leaf. “Then we should add more,” he said, his tone telling you this was a no-brainer.

“No, there’s no need. The kids also need to learn how to make do with what’s there. Besides, the food is rationed...” you reasoned.

He huffed. “Even so. The kids need to eat... But then, it’s your decision. You’re basically the one raising them,” he said in a soft voice, staring at your side profile, but he immediately caught himself. “The clan is thankful to you for that.” he added in a flat tone, looking away to look at the mess on the table instead.

“We have sisters in the longhouse as well, I am not entirely alone in it,” you replied, finishing the bundle.

When the dinner finally wound down and the people began to disperse, laughing and slapping each other's shoulders, you stayed behind. It was muscle memory at this point. You knelt to gather the leaves, the discarded bowls, and wipe down the tables

“I swear, you're the one running this clan, Y/N,” Kiri mused, dropping to her knees beside you to stack a pile of the bowls. She shook her head, though her eyes were fond.

“Don't exaggerate, Kiri,” you laughed, leaning over to pick up a stray cup. Before your fingers could touch it, a large hand closed around it first.

You looked up. Neteyam was kneeling right there, seamlessly joining the cleanup. He didn't say anything at first, just quietly moving around the space, stacking heavy bowls and carrying them toward the washing area so you wouldn't have to. He was a warrior, built for the hunt, yet he moved through the domestic chore with a quiet, efficient grace.

“Go on ahead, Kiri,” Neteyam suddenly said, not looking up from his task. “We’ll finish up here.“

Kiri looked between the two of you, pursing her lips. “Right. I’ll get going...” she said in a singsong voice, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze before wandering off.

With just the two of you left, the silence felt thick, charged with the steady hum of the forest outside. Neteyam worked quickly, ensuring you didn't have to bend down for a single heavy object. When the last mat was cleared, you turned to him, wiping your hands. “Thank you, Neteyam. Good night.”

You quickly turned to head toward the winding path that led up to the high branches, but his footsteps closely followed yours.

“I'm walking you up,“ he stated like it was a fact of the moment.

You shrugged. He often does that anyway. “Alright. But just so you know, I know my way home,” you chuckled.

“It's dark, and the higher ledges are slick from the evening dew,” he replied smoothly, his hands resting casually on his hips as he looked down at you. It was the perfect excuse, the responsible commander looking out for a clan member. He completely ignored the fact that you climbed these branches every single day of your life without a single slip. He was only glad you didn't argue.

But that was mainly because walking up the winding pathways of Hometree beside him was quite the torture you can’t refuse. The warmth of his body shielded you from the cool draft blowing through the upper canopy, and you know, that when you lay awake later, you will think about every detail of tonight like a teenage girl with a crush.

When you reached the longhouse where orphaned children are housed, the low, collective breathing of sleeping kids greeted you. There were children as young as four years old huddled together on the woven mats.

“Here we are,“ you whispered, turning to him. “Thank you.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on your face in the dim light of the bioluminescent moss.

You slipped inside, finding your spot on the floor. Almost instantly, a tiny four-year-old girl stirred, whimpering in her sleep before crawling over and burying her head against your side. Another young boy shifted, tossing his arm over your legs. You smiled softly, wrapping your arms around them to draw them close, and began to softly hum a low, soothing lullaby.

Outside the shelter, Neteyam stood still. He listened to the faint, sweet sound of your humming, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar, fierce warmth. He told himself he was just ensuring everything in the clan was sound before he left. He told himself that a warrior simply values peace in the clan. He didn’t want to acknowledge anything other than that.

A few days later, the forest was alive with the bright golden light of the afternoon. You were deep in the woods, leading a small group of the younger children on a foraging trip. Among them was Tuk, who was practically bouncing on her heels.

“And this one! What does this one do? Can we eat it? Is it poisonous? Will it turn my tongue blue like Lo'ak's when he ate those bad berries?” Tuk fired off questions without breathing, pointing at a glowing fern.

You laughed enthusiastically, kneeling down so you were at her eye level. “No, Tuk, this one isn't for eating. But see these veins? If you ever get a scrape, you can mash these leaves up and put them on the cut. It stops the stinging.”

“Whoa,” Tuk gasped, her eyes wide with wonder.

You gathered the children closer, holding up a bright, deceptively beautiful leaf. “Now, look closely at this one. See these tiny, pale hairs on the edges? Never, ever touch this. They have sharp, pin-like needles. They will stick into your skin and itch for days. Do you understand?”

The children all nodded solemnly, completely captivated by your voice.

You were so focused on their wide, curious eyes that you didn't hear the soft rustle of the brush behind you. Neteyam had just finished his patrol. His body was tired, his muscles tense from hours of scouting, and by all accounts, he should have reported straight to his father. Yet, the moment his duties were cleared, his feet had carried him straight toward the woods.

He had known Tuk was with you, as usual. He had used that exact thought to make himself comfortable with the decision. I'm just checking on my sister, he told himself, ignoring the way his heart had done a strange, eager leap the moment he saw the bright feathers of your long braids.

“Neteyam!” Tuk’s high-pitched voice suddenly rang out.

You blinked, turning around as the circle of children parted. Neteyam has already reached your flock, looking every bit the fierce warrior the kids idolized. The children instantly gasped, looking at him with awe.

“The teacher is so immerse... A palulukan could have attacked anytime,” he said in a humored voice, his lips curling in a smirk.

Your lips twisted. “And the hunter should have also known that these paths are not the paths a palulukan would take,” you playfully narrowed your eyes but you grew serious right away. “Did you come to get Tuk? We were just about to walk home, it's almost eclipse.”

Neteyam paused, his tongue catching in his throat. You were so practical and straight to the point. It was exactly the excuse he had prepared in his mind should you question his presence, but hearing you say it so plainly made his chest feel strangely hollow. He couldn't admit to you, or to himself, that Tuk was entirely secondary.

“Yeah...” he said, clearing his throat and rounding the group of children, his ears twitching slightly. “I just got back from patrol.”

“We better get back, kids,” you announced, clapping your hands together. “The skies will darken in minutes and we don’t want to be caught in the dark.”

The children obediently scrambled into a line, holding each other's hands and walking ahead of you. You and Neteyam fell into step behind them, keeping a watchful eye on the little line.

“They're so good with you,” Neteyam murmured, watching a little boy trip over a root, only for Tuk to proudly help him up. “They actually listen. When I try to tell Tuk to stay put, she completely ignores me.”

You chuckled, a warm, genuine sound that made Neteyam’s gaze snap right to you. “It is only because I speak to their curiosity and I rarely demand for their obedience. They are curious kids and they are really behave when you speak to them about what they want to know.”

Neteyam watched you as you walked. The fading sunlight filtered through the canopy, catching the amber light in your eyes. He stifled a soft smile, a sudden wave of something fierce washing over him. You were almost exactly the same as the kids you were teaching. You had grown up, yes, but that pure, undiluted light in your eyes had never faded. You were still the same curious, incredibly polite, and deeply kind girl who used to sit in the corner of his family's hut, laughing quietly with Kiri.

He found himself stepping just a little bit closer to you as the shadows of the forest lengthened, completely oblivious to the knowing pairs of eyes watching over you both from the high branches of Hometree.

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The atmosphere inside Hometree felt unusually heavy. You were returning from a long day in the woods, carrying a basket of rare roots and leaves that Mo’at had explicitly requested. This was exactly what you did for the clan: anything. You don’t really have an official designation; you were simply someone who could do anything. An errand girl.

Mostly you gather fibers for the weavers and forage for the cooks, but when necessary, you could weave and cook, too. Your mornings were spent with the children, and since most of your chores were usually over before the communal dinner, you manage to help in the kitchens as well.

And now, you felt fortunate that you were tasked to the woods to gather the herbs the Tsahik is in need of, because an older hunter from the Olangi passing through the Omatikaya territory had chanced upon you and talked to you about your great aunt, Suk’tet.

It is not like you’ve ever met this lady before... Despite your mother being Olangi, you grew up in the Omatikaya; but still, your mind was occupied and weighed down by the conversation you had with the hunter.

“She is very sick, child. The fever clings to her like a shadow, and the people are afraid she will pass without any of her blood with her.”

The news left a cold ache in your chest. Already feeling deeply dispirited, you hugged the basket closer to your chest and decided to take a quiet shortcut, intending to quickly drop off the herbs and retreat to the high branches. But as you rounded the pavillion toward the back entrance, the sound of low, intense voices made you freeze in your tracks.

“…she will ground you when the burden of leadership becomes too heavy,” Mo’at’s sharp voice echoed clearly through the space.

“Y/N?”

Your breath hitched. It was Neteyam’s voice.

“Tsahik, I see that you mean well,” Neteyam continued, his tone formal but strained. “Y/N is a good woman. She cares deeply...”

“There is a but. What is it?” Neytiri’s voice cut in, smooth and unyielding.

“Mother, I… I don’t see why you cannot see what I mean,” Neteyam sighed, his frustration bleeding through his words. “You are an Olo'eyktan's mate, and you are strong. A fearsome warrior who helped Dad fight his battles. Y/N… She’s… She cannot even hunt for herself. She cannot protect herself either. If I were to choose my mate, it would be someone who is capable of protecting my children because I would be completely occupied with protecting the people.“

Your stomach dropped, a cold, sickening weight pooling in your gut. Your grip tightened so hard on the basket that the stalks of the fresh herbs began to snap under your fingers.

“She works with children right now and you can see she is good with them,” Mo’at grinded.

You heard Neteyam sigh. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Your breathing hitched. You can literally feel goosebumps raise on your skin from how cold you were feeling inside.

“You underestimate Y/N,” Neytiri replied, her voice carrying a fierce edge. “Her father was an honorable warrior of the Omatikaya, and her mother a warrior of the Olangi.”

You heard Neteyam let out a sharp huff. “And she is not them, mother,” he said flatly. “I hope you are hearing how ridiculous this is.”

“Enough,“ Mo’at commanded. “You have spoken too much, and I hear you. I will not speak of this again.”

Pressing your back against the column, you gritted your teeth, your entire body shaking as you fought back the hot tears threatening to spill over. You bit your lip so hard you tasted copper, forcing yourself to stay entirely silent. A moment later, Neteyam strode out of the pavilion. His posture was rigidly stiff, his jaw clenched, his steps heavy as he walked right past your hiding spot without noticing you.

You closed your eyes and forced a ragged breath into your lungs, desperately calming your racing heart. He was right about everything. It was a ridiculous idea. You didn't even know what had possessed Mo’at and Neytiri to pitch such a far-fetched match. But understanding his logic didn't mean it didn't cut you to the absolute core. He was so utterly appalled by the very concept of you being his mate that he could barely find a kind word to soften his rejection. To him, you were completely unsuited and unimaginable.

Waiting until the burning in your throat subsided, you stepped out from the shadows and walked into the pavilion. Mo’at and Neytiri were sitting in a heavy, tense silence. Neytiri’s eyes widened slightly in surprise as you approached, her gaze searching your face, likely wondering just how long you had been standing outside.

Acting as completely normal as you could muster, you knelt and began pulling the herbs from your basket. “I have the roots you asked for, Tsahik,” you said, your voice tight but clear.

Neither of them spoke. They remained utterly silent, the weight of the air suffocating, until Mo’at uttered a simple, quiet thanks for your job. You bowed your head and left as quickly as your legs could carry you.

During dinner that night, the vibrant atmosphere of the communal area felt entirely distant. For the first time in your life, you felt exhausted. You took a seat at the lower ledges with your companions from the longhouse, instantly diving into the task of tearing up meat and mashing roots for the younger children. You didn't get a single bite onto your own leaf. You couldn't eat anyway, your throat felt entirely closed up. You just wanted the day to end so you could finally curl up in your sleeping mat and cry where no one could see you.

Across the clearing, Neteyam sat at his usual table, completely distracted. His neck craned, his eyes trained on your back. You were turned away from him, your shoulders slightly hunched as you patiently fed a few toddlers. He had been watching long enough to know that you hadn't taken a single portion for yourself.

A strange, sharp pang clawed at his chest. Neteyam knew there was no possible way you could have heard his conversation with his mother and grandmother, yet an irrational sense of fear kept pulling his gaze back to you. He tried to tell himself he had done the right thing. He knew, ever since he was a child, that he did not belong to himself. His choices weren't his own. He belonged to his parents’ expectations, his siblings’ protection, and the future of the entire Omatikaya clan.

He knew, without a doubt, that should the council choose someone they deem suited for him, that he would mate with her. For his part, he believed that he needed a fierce warrior by his side. Much like the partnership his parents had. It was the only logical choice for the people.

Yet, he knew what he felt when Mo’at had pitched the idea of you being his mate. His heart had leapt into his throat with a terrifying, fierce surge of possessiveness, a reaction he had immediately suppressed and buried under cold, harsh logic. That was impossible. How could he be so selfish?

He wanted to talk to you. He needed to hear your voice, to see that quiet, comforting smile that usually settled his mind after a long day. He felt ridiculous. Pathetic. He feels weighed down by what he said about you, by how he disparaged you to his mother and Mo’at, and yet here he is, desiring to hear your voice.

And because he is selfish when it came to you, he decided he would wait until the dinner ended, knowing you would stay behind to clean the tables, and he would help you just like he always did. That plan calmed him down a little.

But it didn’t last long. From your table across the clearing, he saw you stand up. Neteyam’s forehead creased in immediate confusion as he watched you gather five of the youngest children, gently guiding them away from the light of the fires and out of the clearing.

Without even thinking, Neteyam pushed off his mat and stood up to follow you. He was delayed, forced to weave through the crowded tables and dodge a few greeting hunters, his eyes never leaving the path you took. By the time he broke away from the crowd and stepped onto the winding ramp upwards, you were already high up in the branches, nearing the longhouse.

He climbed quietly, his long strides easily closing the distance. Just as he reached the platform of the shelter, he caught sight of you returning from the back of the longhouse, lifting a wooden basin of water.

You stopped dead in your tracks when your eyes landed on him standing in the dim light. You managed to force a small, flickering smile before continuing to walk toward the doorway.

Neteyam immediately stepped into your path, making you halt. Up close, he could see the profound exhaustion in your posture. You looked completely dispirited, your usual warmth entirely replaced by a hollow, distant look that he couldn't quite put a hand on.

“You didn’t stay until the end of the meal,” he said softly, his eyes tracking the way your body was already angled toward the entryway, as if you couldn't stand the thought of lingering for even a second.

Your lips parted slightly, your eyes flickering away, struggling to maintain eye contact. “Uh, yes. The kids are done eating, and I’m putting them to bed,” you murmured.

“You didn't eat much,” he blurted out, the words slipping past his lips before he could stop them. He hadn't meant to sound like he had been watching your every move, even though that was exactly what he had been doing.

Your forehead creased, and you looked up at him as if he had suddenly grown two heads. The irony of his sudden concern was almost laughable. “I’m not that hungry,” you said quietly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Is there anything you need, Neteyam?”

The straightforward, practical question hung in the air. He didn't have an answer, because he didn't even know why his feet had dragged him all the way up here. “No, nothing—”

“Y/N!!!”

Milo's high-pitched, crying voice suddenly pierced the air from inside the longhouse.

Setting the basin down with a hurried splash, you immediately rushed inside, with Neteyam following close behind. Little Milo was sitting on the woven mats, tears streaming down his face as the other children frantically explained that they had been playing a reckless game of tag in the dark and he had tripped.

“How many times have I told you not to run inside in the dark?” you scolded them gently, kneeling down to inspect a small, bleeding scratch on Milo’s elbow. Neteyam quickly light the hanging firepots up. You sighed, turning toward your side of the longhouse where your baskets of healing supplies were kept. “Stay still, Milo. I'm going to get the salve.”

“Let me see,” you heard Neteyam’s deep voice resonate through the small shelter.

You paused, turning your head to see him already kneeling in the spot you vacated. He was carefully dipping his large, calloused fingers into the basin water, his touch remarkably gentle as he began to wash the dirt from the little boy's scratch. “A future hunter doesn't cry over a little scrape like this, right? You have to be brave,” Neteyam murmured, a soft, encouraging smile on his face that made Milo instantly sniffle and nod bravely.

You walked back over, your chest aching at the sight, and silently applied the herbal salve to the wound, wrapping it neatly in a strip of soft, woven cloth.

Standing up, you turned to the rest of the wide-eyed children. “All of you, wash your hands in the basin and get to your sleeping mats right now,” you commanded.

“Y/N, will you tell us a story tonight?” one of the younger girls pleaded, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.

“No,” you said strictly, keeping your tone firm despite the exhaustion pulling at your eyelids. “As punishment for your rowdiness causing Milo to get hurt, there will be no story tonight.”

A collective, dramatic groan echoed through the longhouse.

You let out a soft sigh, your features softening just a fraction. “There will be a lullaby instead. Now, to bed.”

They immediately scrambled to their mats, grumbling but obedient. You turned around to face Neteyam, who was now standing by the entrance, his tall frame nearly brushing the upper beams of the longhouse as he watched you.

“Thank you for helping with Milo,” you whispered, your voice completely devoid of the playful, affectionate teasing you usually shared with him. You kept your distance, your hands clasped tightly behind your back.

He looked down at you, his golden eyes deep and swirling with unspoken words. His lips parted, his ears twitching slightly as if he were fighting the urge to reach out, to say something, anything, to bridge the immense, freezing distance that had suddenly formed between you.

“Y/N, there’s something—”

“You should definitely go now, Neteyam,” you interrupted softly, using the kids as an immediate shield. “The children need to settle down, and it needs to be quiet in here. Good night.”

“I should go then,” Neteyam said softly, his voice dropping into that familiar, quiet register. He lingered by the threshold, his eyes scanning your face one last time, searching for whatever was casting that heavy shadow over your usual warmth. “Good night, Y/N.”

The moment his tall, muscular frame disappeared past the woven flap of the longhouse, the forced smile slid completely off your face. Your chest felt like it was being compressed by a great, invisible fist. You turned back to the kids, pushing the agonizing memory of his cruel words deep down into the recesses of your mind. Tonight, you couldn't afford to break.

After all, you do care deeply. That’s your defining trait.

You sat down on the woven mats, and as promised, you began to softly hum a low, soothing lullaby. The children huddled close, their breathing slowing down as sleep claimed them one by one. But as the longhouse grew quiet, the heavy silence only made the echo of his voice louder in your head.

For years, you were content to just exist in his orbit. You knew your place. You were practically just doing the scraps of everyone’s work. You were who they remember when they needed something done and didn’t want to ask their equal to do it. You do the thankless tasks while the real warriors bled for the clan.

Someone like Neteyam needed a mate who could ride into battle beside him, a woman with fire in her blood and not someone whose greatest talent was comforting crying children in the dark.

Your eyes pricked with hot tears before it spilled over. You huddled close to a sleeping child, closing your eyes and letting the darkness swallow you, wishing more than anything that you could simply disappear.

The next morning brought a shift in the wind, and with it, a strange sense of timing. You were on your way to deliver a fresh batch of woven sleeping mats to the lower ledges when one of the clan's senior scouts stopped you in the corridor.

“The Tsahik calls for you, Y/N,” he said, his face grave.

You shifted your weight on your other foot, feeling a bit of unease. “What for?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Just go. It seems important. An Olangi rider came at dawn, must be about your mother’s family.”

You shifted the heavy stack of woven mats to your other hip, a cold knot of dread tightening in your stomach. “Thank you. I will go right away,” you murmured to the scout.

But you didn't drop everything, for that wasn't in your nature. You marched down to the lower ledges first, carefully laying out the fresh bedding for the families who needed them, ensuring the task was finished before you finally turned your steps toward the healing pavilion.

When you stepped past the beaded curtain, the scent of crushed leaves and dried roots filled your senses, and you saw Mo’at sitting near the central hearth, grinding paste in a heavy stone mortar.

You knelt before her, keeping your posture perfectly respectful. “Good day, Tsahik. I was told a messenger arrived. Is it about my great aunt, Suk’tet?”

Mo’at paused, her sharp eyes tilting upward as she studied your face. “Indeed, it is,” she said, her voice a low, gravelly hum. “How is it that you already know?”

“I chanced upon an Olangi hunter near the borders yesterday,” you explained softly, keeping your eyes trained on the dirt floor so she wouldn't see the lingering redness in them. “He told me of her condition.”

Mo’at nodded slowly, setting her pestle aside. “The message confirms it. The fever has gripped Suk’tet tightly. She is growing older and the spirit grows weary when left to fight in an empty home. The Olangi council sends word to us out of respect for your mother’s blood.”

You let out a quiet, heavy breath. “I should go and take care of her, Tsahik,” you said, your decision born from what you were feeling more than what you are thinking. “I am Omatikaya, but the Olangi blood is half of who I am. I want to tend to her.”

Mo’at’s eyes narrowed slightly, a quiet, knowing look swimming in their depths. “Are you certain, young one? Reconsider the children you spend your days with. They look to you for much.”

You bit your lip as your gaze lowered, feeling guilty that you hadn’t even thought of them when you decided. You will miss them all dearly. “The children have other adults who will ensure they are fed and looked after,” you replied. “But my great aunt has no one. She only has me.”

Mo’at stared at you for a long moment, the silence stretching between you until she finally gave a single, slow nod. “Go then. I will arrange your travels. May the Great Mother guide your path.”

You spent the next two days privately packing your meager belongings, but true to your nature, you refused to leave your duties unfinished. You spent your mornings foraging double the usual amount of roots, wanting to leave the longhouse well-stocked before your departure.

On your final afternoon, you were walking back toward Hometree through the lower forest trails, guiding a small flock of children who were carrying tiny bundles of sweet-pods. The sun was dipping low, casting long, amber shadows through the trees, when a familiar rustle in the brush made your posture instantly stiffen.

You turned and saw Neteyam step into the clearing. His bow was slung over his shoulder, his skin still glistening with light sweat from a perimeter run. His gaze immediately locked onto you, a sudden, bright intensity flaring in his golden eyes.

You stopped and he immediately noticed the apprehension on your face. “Tuk is not with us today, Neteyam,” you stated, cutting straight to the only logical excuse he could possibly have.

Neteyam paused, his ears twitching backward slightly at the precision of your voice. “I know,” he said softly, taking a step closer.

You grimaced slightly, turning your attention to a little boy who was struggling with his bundle, adjusting the strap for him to avoid looking at Neteyam. “We are just heading back. It is nearly time for the evening meal.”

He nodded. “I’ll walk you,” he said.

You gritted your teeth, guiding the kids to walk ahead of you. “Do you think I cannot... protect these children, Neteyam?” you blurted out, your mouth getting ahead of your mind.

You saw his head rear back for a moment, shadows of surprise and something you cannot pinpoint crossing his face. “Of course, I do. You are good with these children, Y/N,” he said.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, but you did look away, your brows almost touching your hairline as you gritted your teeth. Neteyam angled his head to look at you properly.

“Seriously. I do not have a single doubt that you’d protect these children to the best of your ability,” he murmured.

You lifted your brows and nodded. “Yes, I believe you, Neteyam,” you replied before stepping past him to guide the children who are stepping out of their line.

He followed after you, casually walking beside you. “We’re going on a two-week-long hunt in the western forest. Is there anything you want from there?” he asked, his hand extending half an inch as if he wanted to reach out, though he caught himself.

“Nothing I can think of right now,” you said politely. “But thank you.”

His lips parted to say something again, but one of the kids already snagged your attention. He took a deep breath through his nose. You were never really as close to him as you were with Kiri, so now he doesn’t know what else to say just to keep you standing in front of him for a few moments longer. He wanted you to tell him to be safe. He wanted you to look at him with that quiet trust that always secretly anchored his heart.

Instead, your expression was entirely vacant and he couldn’t find the warmth in your voice. He watched you walk the children up the roots leading to Hometree, and when the kids are finally under the safety of the hollowed trunk, he spoke again.

“It has been years since we last hunted in the western forest,” he said, stalling you with a conversation. “I remember it was a hundred times more perilous than this one.”

“Then it would probably be best if you report to your father now to prepare for the hunt,” you said, turning to the kids to make sure they aren’t pushing each other off the winding ramp. “I need get the kids up to the common area.”

Before he could utter another syllable, you stepped past him, your shoulder brushing the air inches from his chest. Neteyam stood frozen in the middle of the entryway, his fist clenching at his side as he watched you retreat into the winding ramp. The cold, empty hollow in his chest was growing wider, and he didn't know how to stop it.

That night at dinner, the communal area was alive with the boisterous shouting of the hunting parties preparing for the grand hunt. But Neteyam sat at their usual table in absolute silence, completely ignoring the loose banter between Lo'ak and Spider.

His eyes were trained like a predator's on the lower ledges.

He watched you sit with the young ones from the longhouse, watched you tear up meat, wipe smudges from tiny faces, and hand out portions, completely ignoring your own leaf. Once again, he hadn't seen you take a single bite all night. A deep, agonizing urge to stand up, walk over, and force you to eat burned in his gut, but the heavy expectations of his position kept him pinned to his mat.

He looked forward to the end of the meal again, his heart hammering against his ribs. He thought of coming clean, of telling you what happened with his mother and his grandmother, and everything he had said. He debated fiercely with himself. Would telling you about the matchmaking only hurt you more? You knew nothing about it, or so he thought, and explaining his rejection might just plant a seed of pain where there was none.

He didn’t know if he were only imagining things. That perhaps he was so guilty, he was imagining you pulling away because of the damning words he had uttered in the healing pavillion. He’s pretty sure you weren’t always like this. You were never dismissive, especially of him. You were always happy to talk to him. Always looking at him like he personally hung the stars in the sky.

He looked at Lo’ak who is busy eating. Everyone in the table is immersed in a conversation and... he just needed to ask.

“Lo’ak,” he called in a whisper and Lo’ak immediately turned to him.

“Oh?” Lo’ak asked, his brows furrowing at the distraction.

He swallowed, biting the inner flesh of his lips. “Do you... Do you remember what Y/N is like?” he whispered.

Lo’ak looked to the side in confusion. “Y/N...?” he repeated. “What she is like?” Lo’ak closed his eyes for a moment. “She’s just a few tables down, bro. Why are you asking that as if she’s gone or something?” he giggled.

Neteyam’s lips pulled back, baring his fangs. “Just answer the question.”

Lo’ak cleared his throat to feign seriousness. “What she is like to everyone or to you?”

Neteyam’s forehead creased. “Is there a difference?”

Lo’ak rolled his eyes. “Are you stupid?” he whispered and Neteyam stared at him in a way that made bim clamp his mouth shut for a moment. “Okay, so... She’s very kind, she’s always willing to do everything for everyone. She’s also really cute when she smiles, especially when she’s shy and she’s very—”

“What was that?” Neteyam asked, every word emphasized.

“What?” Lo’ak whisper-shouted

“Stop imagining her like that,” Neteyam replied with a scowl, his eyes once again landing on your table.

He was about to ask Lo’ak to elaborate on what he said about how you were to him, when he saw you stand up from your table. Neteyam’s shoulders instantly tensed. It was entirely too early. The main feast wasn't even halfway finished, yet you were already guiding a couple of the youngest, sleepiest children toward the shadows of entryway.

He stood up, ignoring Lo’ak’s confused calls behind him. He took three urgent strides toward the aisle, determined to catch you before you reached the winding ramp—

“Neteyam.”

Mo’at’s sharp, commanding voice followed him and Neteyam stopped, his head snapping toward his grandmother, who was gesturing heavily for him to join the circle of elder council members near the central hearth.

“The Olo'eyktan requires your calculations for the western trails,” Mo'at stated, her eyes locking onto his with an unreadable, stern look.

Neteyam looked back over his shoulder. Your shadow was just disappearing past the grand archway of the entryway, completely vanishing into the dark pathways of Hometree.

His shoulders slumped, a heavy, defeated sigh escaping his chest. He slowly turned around and walked back toward the elders' circle, suppressing the bitter frustration roaring in his blood.

He fought the urge to groan, trying to soothe the sharp ache in his chest as he sat among the strategists. He reasoned with himself that the two weeks might help him clear the cloud in his mind that’s making him imagine things. In two weeks, the air between you would be better, because he will have been in a better headspace, too.

He had no idea at all that by the time he comes back, the bed where you slept would already be stripped bare.

The next day, you helped prepare the kids for the day one last time, pressing your forehead against their small brows, swallowing down the lump in your throat. They would be looked after by the other sisters, but you cannot help but feel sad and guilty about leaving them anyway.

“The hunting party left at dawn,” Mo’at informed you as you stood before a direhorse, her voice full of meaning. “But Hito will take you there safely.” She nodded to the young scout she tasked to accompany you.

You smiled, “Thank you, Tsahik,” you mumbled, turning when you heard hurried sounds of footsteps coming toward you.

You saw Tuk running, with Kiri and Lo’ak tailing behind her. “Y/N!” she called out. “Is it true?! You are leaving?” she asked as soon as she's standing in front of you, tears wetting her cheeks.

You glanced at Kiri, sighing softly as you lowered yourself to level with her. “Only temporarily, Tuk. I have a sick aunt I need to take care of...” you explained.

“Like Ta’uri?“ she asked, referencing an elder who was gripped by a lasting fever and passed last season.

You nodded, “Yes... you can say that. She is all alone, Tuk, and I need to be there for her.

Her lips tugged downward, but she nodded anyway. “Hug Popiti for me, Y/N... it’s been so long since I last saw her,” she cried dramatically, burying her face into your hair and wrapping her small arms tightly around your neck.

You smiled, nodding as you caressed her braids. “I will, Tuk. I'll tell her you're growing into a fine huntress.”

“Don’t worry, Tuk, I can always take you to visit Y/N,” Kiri said, stepping forward to wrap her arms around both of you. Her eyes met yours over Tuk’s shoulder, filled with a quiet, intense concern. “The Olangi isn't that far by ikran.”

“Me, too. But you’ll have to let Y/N settle there first,” Lo’ak said, pausing and looking at your packed satchel. “Won’t you say goodbye to Neteyam?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You forced a small, awkward laugh, the sound hollow in your ears. “He wouldn't be back until next, next week...” you said, turning your gaze vack to Tuk. As if, you thought bitterly.

Lo’ak smirked. “Up to you,” he said in a singsong tone, biting on a piece of fruit.

The journey to the Olangi clan took two full days on the back of a sturdy direhorse, including the necessary breaks to rest and eat. But the moment the dense, claustrophobic canopy of the rainforest gave way to the endless, shimmering sea of grassland, something inside your chest broke open. The sky felt massive, an unbroken dome of brilliant blue that stretched out forever.

When you finally reached the Olangi encampment, a vast circle of beautifully woven leather tents and banners snapping in the wind, you asked for your aunt's home. A young warrior led you to a tent near the eastern edge, where the great direhorse herds grazed.

Suk’tet was lying on a bed of thick furs, her skin flushed with a stubborn fever, though her eyes were still as sharp as flint.

“S-Suk’tet?“ you called out in a small voice, stepping inside to get a better look of her.

“You shouldn't have left the forest, child,” she rasped even without opening her eyes and seeing you, her voice was weak but her tone scolding as you knelt beside her to press a cool, wet cloth to her forehead. “The Omatikaya is your home.”

“Once upon a time, this was my mother’s home, too, Auntie,” you replied softly, squeezing her frail hand. “I am Omatikaya and Olangi. My mother’s blood runs in me just as much as my father’s. I will take care of you.”

Over the next two weeks, you completely threw yourself into the ways of the plains. You missed the high branches of Hometree, but the plains were endless and you had more ground to walk on. When you’re not taking care of Suk’tet, you’re learning how to properly tend to the massive direhorses, how to harvest the tough, sun-baked roots of the plains, and how to cook the rich, heavily spiced stews that sustained the hunters through long days under the scorching sun. You worked until your muscles screamed and your hands were calloused from coarse leather reins.

“Oh, Y/N, I can never be as hardworking as you are,” Popiti said dramatically as she helped you wipe mud from a direhorse. “Surely, Tuk isn’t, too?”

You pushed your lips forward to stifle a chuckle. “Tuk is very curious. She comes with me when I forage in the woods, she loves to study the flora.”

She waved a hand. “Well, I think that’s the equivalent of what I do with you here,” she declared and grinned. “Once she visits, we’ll show her the fun stuff they don’t have back in the forest.”

You laughed softly, your heart tightening with a brief, familiar ache at the mention of Tuk's name. “She would love that, Popiti. She’d love it here.”

Before Popiti could reply, a sudden, heavy shadow fell over the two of you, accompanied by the smug, smooth chuckle that had quickly become the bane of your existence over the last ten days.

“Rinsing a direhorse's hocks is a hunter’s duty, forest girl. You're going to scrub the hide raw if you keep using that gentle touch.”

You closed your eyes for a brief, exhausting second before turning around. Standing there, leaning casually against the wooden post of the horse pen with a stalk of sweet grass jutting out from his smirk, was Ziklan. The moment you had arrived in the camp, the hunter had seemingly made it his life's mission to insert himself into every single chore you attempted.

“I am doing just fine,” you said, your voice dripping with sweet, deliberate politeness as you wrung out your woven cloth. “And I didn't ask for your critique.”

“You never ask,” Ziklan countered, stepping into the muddy pen. Without waiting for your permission, he took the heavy wooden bucket from your hands and poured a fresh splash of clean water over the direhorse's flank. “But don’t worry, it is my duty as a generous clan member to ensure you don't accidentally get kicked into the dirt.”

“I have handled direhorses before,” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“In the thick trees, maybe,” Ziklan scoffed playfully. He reached out, his hand flashing quickly to pluck a stray bit of dried grass out of your braided hair before you could swat his hand away. “Out here, they run like the wind, Y/N. You have to be firmer with them. Like this.” He slapped the beast’s flank with a loud, firm thud, and the direhorse let out a contented snort, settling under his touch.

Your face crumpled in disgust and Popiti fell in a fit of laughter. “He has a point, Y/N. Ziklan is the best rider in our clan. If you want to learn how to properly race across the ridges, you should let him teach you.”

“I am here to take care of my great aunt, not to race,” you muttered. Ziklan was helpful, you couldn't deny that, but he was just so incredibly annoying. He never left you alone.

“Suk’tet is sleeping,” Ziklan noted, handing the empty bucket back to you, his fingers deliberately lingering against yours for a brief second. “Which means you are free. Come to the ridge so I can teach you.”

“No, thank you. I have roots to prepare for tonight's stew,” you said, turning on your heel and walking out of the pen.

“I’'ll gather them for you!” Ziklan called out behind you, his laugh echoing.

You shook your head, walking back toward Suk’tet's tent. Ziklan's relentless attention was exhausting, but in a strange way, it was the only thing keeping you grounded. He didn't look at you like you were a fragile caretaker who needed protection. Somehow, it eases the burn brought by Neteyam’s rejection.

By the end of the second week, Suk’tet’s fever had finally broken completely, leaving her weak but fiercely demanding her usual herbal tea. You were standing near the eastern edge of the camp, helping Popiti sort through a basket of dried grass for the hearth, when a high-pitched, familiar shriek suddenly echoed paces away. You turned around, seeing Tuk running toward you, her high-pitched voice calling your name excitedly.

Your face instantly split into a wide, genuine smile, the heavy weight that had settled in your chest for weeks suddenly lifting. “Tuk!” you cried out, dropping your basket and jogging toward her.

Popiti chased after you. “Tuk!!” she screeched excitedly.

Tuk tackled you into a fierce, rib-crushing hug. “I missed you so much! Everyone does! Look at your clothes, you look so beautiful!” she cheered, pulling back to inspect your sleek Olangi leathers.

“I missed you too, little one,” you laughed.

Tuk turned to Popiti, hugging her like they are both grown women who had just reunited. “Oh, sweet dear, it has been so long!” Tuk said, wiping an imaginary drop of tear on her cheek.

“Indeed, it is! I would have prepared an afternoon tea for us, my dear, if only I know you’ll be visiting!” Popiti replied, wiping her cheek, too.

You chuckled at their antics, clearing your throat. “I think, I can do something about that,” you narrowed your eyes playfully, and then turning to Tuk seriously. “Where is your sister?”

You craned your neck to look at where she came from, your smile slowly fading as the blood in your veins turned to absolute ice. Standing beside the massive flank of an ikran was not Kiri.

It was Neteyam.

He fixed something on his saddle while his eyes were locked entirely onto you as he approached. He was still strapped into his heavy hunting harness, dark grease from the forest canopy smudging his collarbone and a quiver of heavy arrows rattling against his back. He looked like he just got back from the hunt, pushed his ikran to its absolute limit, and flown straight here without washing the grit from his skin.

You stood up slowly, your brows furrowed a little. It was glaringly obvious that he had rushed here, and equally obvious that he was completely blindsided to actually find you standing in the muddy horse pens instead of being safely back at Hometree. He was looking at you as if you had stolen something from him.

His gaze raked over you, taking in your sun-kissed skin, the sleek, fitted leathers that hugged your frame, and the way your long braids moved freely in the breeze and his lips parted a fraction of an inch. His head tilted.

“They told me you left the forest,” he said, his voice raspy. He stepped closer, his jaw tight.

“My great aunt is sick,” you replied, keeping your chin lifted despite the sudden, erratic skipping of your heart. “She has a stubborn fever. I came here to nurse her, and I will stay until she is well.”

His intense golden eyes locked onto yours with a scrutiny so fierce and unblinking that you suddenly found it impossible to look him in the face. You shifted your gaze to the dirt, your skin prickling under the weight of his attention.

Tuk, entirely oblivious to the thick tension vibrating between the two of you, stepped up and beamed at Popiti. “To be honest, I didn't even know we were flying out here today! Neteyam just arrived from the long hunt and I told him you left the village, and well... here we are! I guess Neteyam misses you just as much as the rest of us do.”

Neteyam instantly snapped his gaze away, clearing his throat roughly as a deep, unmistakable purple flush crept up the sides of his neck and flooded his ears. He clamped a massive hand over the top of Tuk’s head, effectively muffling her next words while trying to look anywhere but at you.

Your own cheeks flared. Desperate for an escape from the suffocating awkwardness, you blurted out the first hospitable thing you could think of. “I... I will go prepare some tea for you two. We can eat some of the dried honey biscuits, too.”

But just as you spun on your heel to head toward the tents, a familiar, melodic whistle echoed from the edge of the ridge. Ziklan strolled into the clearing, a casual smirk plastered across his face.

“You know, forest girl, if I hadn't gone home to eat and sleep, and had just waited on the ridges for you to show up, I would have died of old age by now,” Ziklan teased, slinging a long arm over the wooden fence post. “You are completely heartless.”

“I never promised you anything, Ziklan,” you sighed, casting him a dry look. “I distinctly remember telling you I wasn't going.”

Neteyam’s head snapped toward the intruder. His flustered, embarrassed frame vanished in a fraction of a second, replaced by a rigid, towering warrior who clearly did not appreciate this stranger invading your personal space. His eyes narrowed to slits, tracking Ziklan’s movements with a cold, territorial glare that practically screamed his desire to physically shove the man a three-mile distance away from you.

Ziklan, however, possessed an incredibly bold streak and absolutely zero sense of self-preservation. Sensing the heavy gaze, he turned his grin directly onto Neteyam.

“Neteyam te Suli?” Ziklan asked, his tone shifting into one of genuine, deep-seated respect.

Neteyam gave a single, stiff nod. He extended his forearm in the formal warrior's greeting. Ziklan clasped it firmly, but Neteyam’s fingers locked around the man's wrist with a grip that was entirely too tight, his knuckles white under his blue skin.

“What brings a legendary warrior such as yourself to our lands, Neteyam?” Ziklan asked, seemingly unfazed by the bone-crushing grip.

Neteyam’s jaw pulsed, his teeth grinding together before he directly uttered, “Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Ziklan echoed, blinking in surprise before looking between the two of you. “Ah, yes! This forest girl. Well, she has been a savior for her aunt. Suk’tet has been practically bedridden since the turning of the season, but just two days ago, Y/N had her sitting up and taking the air. We finally brought her out to see the sun today. Right, Y/N?”

Neteyam’s eyes narrowed further, the muscle in his cheek twitching. Objectively, he knew he should be grateful. He should be glad that you had found someone kind, someone helpful who made your grueling chores easier in a foreign clan. But as he watched Ziklan stand comfortably close to you, Neteyam couldn't find a single drop of gratitude in his chest. He felt like a complete fraud, an awful, bitter weight settling deep in his stomach.

When Neteyam offered nothing but a freezing silence, you took it as his usual indifference toward your life outside of his family's circle. Why should he care about what you’re doing out here anyway? Swallowing the lump of disappointment in your throat, you placed your hands on Tuk and Popiti’s small shoulders.

“Let’s find a good spot for our gathering,” you urged.

“Can Neteyam join our tea party, Y/N?” Tuk asked, looking up with wide, hopeful eyes.

Popiti immediately leaned in, shielding her mouth with a hand as she whispered loudly to Tuk, “I highly suggest we do not bring boys into our sacred circle. They ruin the gossip.”

“But Neteyam will be entirely alone,” Tuk whispered back urgently. "Y/N is his only friend here, and I think he really, really wants to hang out with her. We can even invite Ziklan to balance it out! They can act as our personal guards.”

“Fine, I will ask him,” Popiti relented.

Within seconds, Popiti had scampered over to pitch the idea to Ziklan, while Tuk tugged relentlessly on Neteyam’s hand. Ziklan didn't need to be asked twice. “An afternoon tea with Y/N? Count me in,” he grinned, sending a playful wink your way.

You leveled him with a completely deadpan expression.

“I’ll even help you stoke the hearth and brew the leaves,” Ziklan offered smoothly. “Our guests can just sit back and relax. Popiti, why don't you guide the young warrior's sister to the shade near the weaving tents?”

“Or,” Neteyam interrupted, his deep voice slicing through Ziklan’s easy hospitality, “I can be the one to help Y/N. Besides, I have been meaning to learn how the Olangi prepare their blends. You know these plains better than I ever could, Ziklan. It makes more sense for you to ensure the children stay safe near the perimeter.”

Ziklan’s lips parted, his mind visibly grinding through the flawless logic of the suggestion. He looked at Neteyam’s towering, unmoving frame, then back to the girls, and finally nodded, completely sold. “Right. You're completely right about that, my friend. Let's go, girls!” With a sweeping gesture, he guided a giggling Tuk and an eager Popiti away toward the center of the camp.

The silence that settled over the horse pen was instantaneous and deafening. You stood by the wooden bucket, deliberately avoiding Neteyam’s gaze.

“I don't really need any help,” you muttered, picking up the woven basket of dried tea roots.

“I want to learn,” Neteyam said softly, his tone losing every ounce of its earlier authority. “Show me how it is done.”

You pursed your lips, letting out a small sigh as you shrugged and began walking toward the communal kitchens. Neteyam fell into step right beside you, his massive strides falling perfectly into rhythm with your smaller ones.

As you began sorting the dried roots, washing them in a clay basin, Neteyam hovered close, his eyes quietly cataloging every tiny detail that had changed about you over the last two weeks. Heck, he was extremely detailed on it he even tracked the small scratch on your thumb.

“How are you?” he asked quietly.

“I am fine,” you replied, keeping your eyes trained on the knife in your hand. “My aunt is resting. She is doing much better than when I first arrived.”

“I am glad,” Neteyam murmured, his voice softening into something raw and incredibly intimate. “Nobody ever stays sick for long on your watch. You are better than most of the trained healers in the pavilion. I think it is because you actually care deeply for the souls of those you tend to.”

Your fingers froze over the clay basin. You care deeply. Those words again.

A sudden, sharp sting of memory sliced through your chest. The memory of his cruel, careless words about your lack of strength, your inability to hunt or protect, your unfitness to stand beside a future leader. You gritted your teeth, forcing the pain down as you arranged the honeyed biscuits, a clay pot, and clay cups onto a heavy wooden serving tray.

Before you could lift it, Neteyam’s large hands slid beneath the wood, effortlessly taking the weight from you. He didn't say another word, silently carrying the tray as you scanned the ridge to see where Ziklan had taken the girls.

“Y/N! Over here!” Ziklan’s voice boomed from a shaded knoll near a cluster of vibrant banners. He waved an arm, a massive smile on his face.

“Is he always like that?” Neteyam murmured.

You glanced up at him with your brows furrowed. “He is a good man,” you murmured, felt a sudden urge to defend the hunter. “He has helped me more than anyone else since I got here.”

Neteyam stared at you, his eyes tracking the small, genuine smile that graced your lips. A bitter, suffocating knot tightened in his throat. He felt like a monster. An awful, selfish person who couldn't even find it in himself to be happy that you had found comfort and safety in a strange place. He tried to imagine how Kiri would react, knowing his sister would be overjoyed for you. But he wasn't Kiri. He knew exactly why his blood boiled at the sight of Ziklan, and the realization terrified him.

“Finally!” Popiti clapped happily as Neteyam carefully set the heavy tray down on a woven mat.

The next hour passed in a blur of lighthearted chatter. Popiti and Tuk ran the entire conversation, practically putting on a theatrical performance about their tragic separation, while Ziklan laughed loudly, entirely missing the subtle, icy cues Neteyam kept throwing his way. It was blindingly obvious to Neteyam that Ziklan was completely infatuated with you, and the hunter didn't have the slightest bit of shame about showing it.

“I wish we could see each other every single sunrise, Popiti,” Tuk declared dramatically, clutching her chest and wiping a fake tear from her cheek. “But the cruel distance separates our souls!”

Ziklan snorted into his tea, thoroughly entertained by their antics.

“You can see each other whenever you want,” Neteyam spoke up suddenly, his voice steady as he looked at his little sister. “I will fly you here myself.”

“Seriously?!” Tuk squealed, jumping up.

Popiti immediately nudged her with an elbow. “Manners,” she whispered fiercely, before turning a highly formal, respectful gaze toward Neteyam. “That would be most grand, respected warrior. You are incredibly gracious to offer such a thing.” Popiti then turned to you, speaking as if she were a wise elder rather than a child. “Y/N, you have a very thoughtful friend. Perhaps we should allow him to join our future gatherings.”

“I would like that very much,” Neteyam replied, offering a low, respectful bow of his head before taking a slow sip from his small clay cup.

“Hey, what about me?” Ziklan chimed in, tossing a seed at Popiti.

“You have tracking duties for the Olo'eyktan, Ziklan,” Popiti said dismissively, waving a hand. “You cannot always be lounging around with the ladies.”

And just like that, the girls unknowingly laid a path that Neteyam walked with relentless, calculated devotion.

Every single morning for the next moon, the heavy thrum of ikran wings would signal Neteyam’s arrival. He always brought Tuk, but the moment her feet hit the dirt, Neteyam would vanish into the background of your daily life, transforming into a silent force of labor.

He brought rare forest herbs for Suk’tet that he specifically asked Mo’at’s expertise on. He brought prime cuts of fresh hexapede and various forest fruits from his morning hunts, quietly handing them off to the camp cooks for you and your aunt. One afternoon, while you were away by the river, He spent three hours under the scorching sun patching the worn, weather-beaten outer hide of your aunt's tent, his massive hands skillfully weaving the thick woven walls until the structure was completely windproof.

He wanted to make things easy for you here. He didn’t want to think of you wanting for anything.

By the end of the second month, Suk’tet had completely recuperated. She was back on the back of a direhorse, back in the elders’ social circles and was finally able to join the rituals. But you lingered on the plains, wishing to see her all the way through it, making sure she is completely fine. You had grown genuinely close to Ziklan, finding a comfortable, easy friendship in his loud, unfiltered nature.

One afternoon, Neteyam had just finished thatching your aunt’s roof when he found the two of you out on the southern ridge. Ziklan was standing directly behind you, his hands adjusting your grip on a heavy shortbow, his chest practically pressed against your back as he guided your aiming arm toward a distant target.

Neteyam froze at the edge ridge, his eyes narrowing into slits. He wanted to act normal. He wanted to be the stoic, composed future leader the council raised him to be, but looking at you encaged in another man's arms, hearing your bright, unburdened laughter ring across the plains is unleashing something ugly in him.

He couldn't do it anymore. He admitted it to himself fully, the truth crushing his chest: he loved you. He felt for you more than words could ever express, and the raw, green jealousy raging in his blood was a monster he could no longer tame. He hated that Ziklan could openly admire you and be with you. At the same time, Neteyam hated himself for being entirely, unforgivably selfish.

He had spent his entire life suppressing his own desires for the good of the clan and had never done a single thing purely for himself... And right now, he knew that if he didn't start being selfish, he would lose you forever.

“She's a natural sharpshooter, this one!” Ziklan joked loudly, catching sight of the towering his frame standing like a statue in the brush. “I might just have to convince her to stay here.”

You gathered your practice arrows beforr walking up to Neteyam, entirely oblivious of the storm brewing in his dark eyes, and pointed toward the eastern tents. “Popiti and Tuk are over by the weaving mats. Tuk has been waiting for you.”

“You are learning archery?” he asked, his voice rough.

Your adrenaline was making it hard for you to wipe the smile off your face, turning to him with a breathless, excited smile and his gaze softened into something so intense, so vulnerable. A warm golden light of the sun was shining on you so specifically, it felt as though Eywa herself had drawn a golden line toward you, pointing you to him. He reached out without thinking, wiping the sweat off your neck and moving a strand of hair that’s sticking to your skin.

A soft, nervous giggle bubbled out of you before you could stop it. You quickly swatted his hand away, stepping back as a sudden, violent heat flared under your skin where his fingers had grazed you. You cleared your throat quickly.

“I wish only to learn so I can hunt... so I can protect myself and the children when we forage,” you said, your heart hammering against your chest. “I need to know how to protect them from danger. The children follow me everywhere in the forest.”

His brows furrowed. “There is no need for that, Y/N,” Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a firm, protective register. “Our clan has many hunters and warriors. It is our duty to handle the sustenance and protection of the people.”

Your lips pressed into a hard, rigid line. The lingering warmth vanished, replaced by a sudden wave of old anger. You tilted your head up, staring directly into his amber eyes. “You really don't even remember your own words, do you?”

Neteyam blinked, his brow furrowing. “My own words?”

“Yes,” you spat, the softness entirely gone from your voice as months of suppressed hurt finally broke through the surface. “You didn’t really think I heard you tell your mother and the Tsahik that I couldn't even hunt for my own food or protect my own life, did you? You asked how someone like me could ever protect the children of a future Olo'eyktan. I don't disagree with you on that, Neteyam. I know I am not a warrior. It is your right to choose a mate who fits your grand vision of a leader, and it is also my right to choose mine.

You stepped closer, your voice entirely cold.

“But you should know... I never wanted to be your mate anyway. I never even thought of it,” you said. “I wish you well in your pursuit of a perfect, strong warrior mate, Neteyam. Truly.”

You swept past him, your shoulder brushing his arm as you marched toward where Popiti and Tuk are. Neteyam didn't follow. He stood entirely paralyzed, heavily burdened by the sheer weight of reality. He had no defense. He had said those exact things. He believed them to be logical amd right at the time, even though the words had tasted like ash in his mouth the moment they left his lips. It had never felt right.

You had heard it all. You had carried his stupidity, his arrogance, and his cruelty in silence for months, and yet, you were still too kind to allow him to be comfortable around you.

He felt his chest hollow out completely. You didn’t even want him. He had spoken so cruelly, spent months agonizing over duty and pride, while you hadn't even considered him a choice. But he had, and it all felt so comical he knew his Mo’at and his mother would laugh at the fact. How dare he reject the idea of you, when it was he who was heads over heels for you this entire time?

It was always you. Since you were children running through the high branches, he had never truly looked at another girl. When he was weary from the endless pressures of being the perfect heir, your quiet laughter was the only thing that lifted the weight from his shoulders. You grounded him. You always had. Like always, Mo'at had been right and he had been completely, utterly blind.

Later that night, back at Hometree, Neteyam sat near the low embers of a secluded fire, a skin of strong, fermented wine gripped tightly in his hand. Lo'ak sat across from him, silently tearing into a piece of dried meat.

“I love her, Lo'ak,” Neteyam whispered into the darkness, the confession tearing out of his throat for the very first time. “I love her so much.”

Lo'ak didn't even pause his chewing. “Tell me something new.”

Neteyam snapped his head up, his eyes wide. “How did you know?”

Lo'ak rolled his eyes, letting out a dry snort. “Because I have functioning eyes? And a shred of common sense? Kiri has a million friends in this village, but growing up, you were always completely centered on Y/N. You were always about what Y/N would like and need. I know you try to be there for everyone in the clan, but you would drop a council meeting with Dad if Y/N ever needed a basket carried or a path cleared. You’ve had it bad since we were kids.”

Neteyam lowered his head into his hands, a ragged breath escaping him. “I... I always just thought I wanted to make things convenient for her. She spends every waking hour making life easy for everyone else in this village. She cares so deeply for the old and the small, and she never stops to think if anyone is looking out for her. I never stopped to think why my urge to protect and provide was so violently strong for her, and her alone.”

A hot, stinging moisture flooded his eyes, blurring his vision until a heavy tear escaped, tracking down his nose. He angrily wiped it away with the back of his hand, pressing his knuckles into his eye sockets to stop the trembling.

“What the fuck, bro...” Lo'ak mumbled, his voice dropping into a rare moment of genuine sympathy. “She really got you bad...” he looked at Neteyam. “But well, why are you crying? Y/N likes you, too, I know that! I see it. And I also know that Y/N knows you care for her. She knows who you are.”

“I hurt her, Lo'ak,” Neteyam choked out, his voice thick with unspent grief. “I hurt her so deeply.”

“How? Is this about you flying to the Olangi camp every single day?” Lo'ak asked, a worried smirk on his face. “Because everyone knows you're not pulling a four-hour round trip just so Tuk can play hand-clapping games with Popiti.”

“No... before that,” Neteyam whispered, staring into the dying flames. “Mo’at and Mother talked to me moons ago. They suggested Y/N to be my betrothed. And instead of listening to my heart, I let my pride and my narrow view of what a leader ‘needs’ take over. I said cruel, unforgivable things about her strength. And she heard every single word.”

Neteyam’s grip tightened on the flask until his claws dug into the wood. “And the worst part, Lo'ak? She was still so kind. She carried that pain in silence, allowing me to exist comfortably around her, never throwing it in my face until today when I finally pushed her past her limits. She must have been in such agonizing discomfort every time I forced my way into her space... and she never said a word.”

Lo'ak breathe sharply through his teeth, shaking his head. “Stupidity... Eywa practically dropped your destiny right into your lap and you kicked it off a cliff. What’s your plan now?”

“I don't want to keep showing up if my presence genuinely makes her miserable,” Neteyam said, his chest constricting tightly as the image of Ziklan holding your bow arm flashed vividly behind his eyelids. “But I also cannot let her think I am giving up. I can't let her fall for someone else.”

Lo'ak let out a rough laugh, shaking his head. “So... you're just gonna keep using Tuk and Popiti as shields to force your way back into her life, huh?”

Neteyam didn't answer. He knew he should be ashamed. He knew he had no right to be territorial, but the sheer terror of a life without you overrode every ounce of his ingrained honor. He would keep showing up.

But his master plan exploded directly in his face the very next morning.

When Neteyam marched back into the clearing after his dawn patrol, the first thing he saw was Tuk and Popiti sitting on the high woven platform outside his family's kelku, giggling uncontrollably as they played a frantic hand-clapping game.

Neteyam stopped dead in his tracks, his heart stopping. “Popiti?” he called out, stepping closer to ensure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

The young girl snapped her head around, beaming. “Hello, Neteyam!”

“We don't need to fly all the way to the plains anymore, Neteyam!” Tuk cheered, jumping up and down on the mats. “Popiti and her mother traveled through the night to be with Norm and her sister! There is a huge possibility they are moving to the forest permanently. Isn't that amazing?!”

Neteyam stared at the two girls, a loud, high-pitched ringing filling his ears as his gaze volleyed between them. His throat went completely dry. “Is... is Y/N back?”

Popiti’s smile faded into a serious, knowing look, and she shook her head slowly. “No. She won't be coming back to the forest, I think. Ziklan has officially started courting her. They will be mated soon, and that means babies also.” Popiti nodded sagely, as if she were an expert on the matter. “Y/N is going to stay with the Olangi forever.”

Neteyam’s heart dropped straight into his stomach, a physical sensation of icy dread washing over him. At the moment, his mind can’t even differentiate between being hunted by a starving palulukan in the dead of night and the fact Popiti was talking about. His mind spun out of control as he imagined the future.

“Y/N can't do that!” Tuk shouted, her face twisting into a fierce scowl, mirroring exactly what he was feeling. “She belongs to us! She is Omatikaya!”

“Well, once she binds her spirit to Ziklan, she becomes Olangi. That is how things are. Right, Neteyam?” Popiti asked, looking up at him for confirmation.

Tuk looked up at her big brother, giant tears overflowing her lower lids. Neteyam forced his shaking knees to bend, dropping down to eye level with the two young girls. He reached out, placing his massive hand tenderly over Tuk’s head.

“It doesn't work like that, Tuk. Popiti,” Neteyam said, his voice incredibly calm but carrying a desperate weight. “Y/N is both Omatikaya and Olangi. Her mother's blood and her father's blood make her who she is. A mate will not change anything. She will always belong to both.”

Tuk sniffled loudly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “But will she ever come home? I miss her being here so much, Neteyam... I pray with Mo'at for her aunt's health every single night just so she can come back to us.”

Neteyam lowered his eyes to the woven floorboards, his chest aching so severely he could barely draw breath. “She will come back... if her heart wishes it so, Tuk.”

“Will her heart ever wish it?” the little girl whispered.

Neteyam’s gaze remained locked on the ground. “We will see...”

The universe, it seemed, was determined to strip away every last bit of his time. Later that afternoon, Neteyam was summoned to the high council, a gathering led far more by the sharp, unyielding gaze of his grandmother, Mo'at, than by his father.

As soon as he took his seat, the elders began discussing the formal arrangements for his future betrothal selection. His jaw slackened. Looking at the completely blank, deliberate expression on his grandmother’s face, he knew instantly that this entire timeline had been forced forward by her hand. She was trying to lock him into his duties.

“Which is why,” Mo'at said, her sharp voice echoing off the woven walls as she looked directly at him, “I expect you to cease these endless, frivolous flights to only Eywa knows where. Stay here, Neteyam. Act like a true leader who prioritizes his people.”

Neteyam’s shoulders slumped, a profound, hollow numbness spreading through his limbs as he heard the incredibly loud this is your choice tone from Mo’at. Every single avenue was closing. Popiti was in the forest, stripping away his excuse to fly to the plains, and the council was locking him into a cage of duty.

He watched his grandmother walk away toward the healing pavilion, and before his brain could register the danger, his feet began to move. He followed her. He pushed past the beaded curtains of the pavilion, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was going to tell her. He was going to call off the selection.

“Tsahik,” he barked out, stopping her in the center of the quiet structure. “I am trying to win Y/N's heart. I need the betrothal selection to stop. I will not choose anyone else.”

Mo'at slowly turned around, her face completely expressionless, though her eyes held a deep curiosity. “Do you remember the exact words you had spoken in this exact room months ago?”

“I remember what I said, Tsahik,” Neteyam intercepted, his voice cracking with emotion. “I will remember my own stupidity for as long as I draw breath.”

“Then you must understand that Y/N will never forget it either,” Mo'at replied coldly.

“I am going to try anyway,” Neteyam vowed, stepping closer, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I will never give up on her. I was too blind to see the gift Eywa had placed directly in front of me. I was so consumed by the weight of the leadership, so obsessed with being the perfect leader, that I ignored the only voice that has ever kept me whole. I thought a leader only protects through the bow. But Y/N... Y/N holds the very soul of our people. She heals the old, she guides the young, she binds the broken pieces of this clan together. No one is better than her, Grandmother, not even I. I am not even her equal, but I will spend every sunrise trying to be worthy of her. Even if it goes against the council.”

Mo'at stared at her grandson, a flicker of profound awe breaking through her tight-lipped facade. The boy had finally grown into a man who understood that his heart must be louder than his mind.

“Very well,” she said softly, turning back to her herbs. “Do what you must do.”

The very next morning, the moment his dawn patrol was ovr, Neteyam pushed his ikran into a sprint across the sky, flying straight back to the Olangi encampment.

Neteyam was a perfectionist by nature. He was a boy who prided himself on being pristine, composed, and unshakeable. But today, the toll of his sleepless nights and absolute terror was laid bare for everyone to see. His ears were pinned flat against his head, his tail hung low and twitching with anxiety, and the regal posture he usually carried was completely fractured by fear.

The moment his boots hit the dirt, his shoulders squared automatically as his eyes locked onto Ziklan. Thank Eywa, you were nowhere in sight.

Ziklan noticed him immediately, stepping away from the herd with a curt, surprised nod. “Neteyam? If you're looking for Popiti, she and her mother left for the forest days ago.”

Neteyam swallowed hard, forcing his raging jealousy down into the pit of his stomach. He looked at the Olangi tracker, forcing himself to speak with a raw, stripping honesty that cost him every ounce of his pride.

“I know,” Neteyam said, his voice steady but thick. “I did not come for the girl. I came for Y/N.”

Ziklan froze, his lips parting in genuine surprise.

“Ziklan,” he called out. “I want to thank you," Neteyam continued, his golden eyes unblinking. “I want to thank you for doing what I was too cowardly and foolish to do. You saw Y/N’s worth instantly... You proudly showed her your admiration and made her feel safe when I did nothing but bring her grief. I respect you for that, Ziklan.”

Ziklan blinked, his eyes awkwardly looking everywhere but at Neteyam. “Y-You’re welcome? I mean, Y/N is a great woman. What’s not to like?” he giggled.

Neteyam looked at him with an easy smile. “But if you must know... I am here to win her back. And I will go through you, or anyone else in this clan, if I have to.”

Ziklan went entirely pale for a fraction of a second, staring at the massive Omatikaya warrior before he suddenly burst into a flustered, stammering laugh. He reached out, nervously patting Neteyam’s massive shoulder. “Whoa, whoa, wait! Hold your ikran, warrior! There is absolutely no need to go through anyone. I am not... courting Y/N.”

Neteyam’s ears twitched. “You are not?”

“No,” Ziklan chuckled, shaking his head. “Look, I like her. Any man with eyes would. She’s beautiful and fierce. But... well, I also have eyes in my head, Neteyam. I've watched you endure a four-hour round trip every single day just to carry her water buckets. I know a desperate man when I see one,” he grinned. “I am glad to know that you are a man of immense honor. Most guys with your rank would have pulled status and thrown their weight around to clear me out of the way, but you came to me directly. I respect that. Don't mind if I steal that move for my own future courting.“ Ziklan smirked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder toward the communal kitchens. “She's over there. Go get her. Good luck!”

The sun was barely over the horizon, casting long, sharp shadows across the dirt as Neteyam walked toward the outdoor kitchens. He spotted you instantly, laughing softly with a group of Olangi women as you prepped roots for the morning stew.

The moment the other women noticed the towering Omatikaya heir standing at the edge of the shade, their conversations died into astounded whispers. You turned around, your breath catching in your throat as your face instantly twisted into a hard, defensive scowl.

Why was he here? You thought you had finally broken him days before. You had once again spent the entire night crying into your furs, furious at yourself for still caring, furious that his face was the only thing you saw when you closed your eyes. You deliberately turned your back on him, picking up your knife and focusing entirely on the vegetables.

An hour passed. You worked until your fingers were stained with juice, completely ignoring the edge of the clearing. You assumed he had finally taken the hint and flown away, but when you finally turned around to carry a basket to the fire, you froze.

He hadn't moved an inch. He was still standing exactly where you left him, his massive hands tucked nervously behind his back, his entire posture vibrating with a fragile, desperate tension. He was waiting for you.

You tried to march past him, but Neteyam stepped directly into your path, his tail dragging in the dirt, his ears completely flattened in a posture of total surrender.

“Please...” he whispered, his voice cracking, entirely dry. “Y/N, please just allow me to speak. Then I will leave if you command it.”

You raised your eyes, forcing them to remain cold, indifferent, and dead to the world. But the sheer vulnerability in his golden gaze made your throat tighten.

“I am an idiot, Y/N,” Neteyam said, the words rushing out of him like a floodgate opening. “When I said those cruel, unfeeling things to Mo’at and my mother, I had convinced myself they were right. I thought that to be a leader, to be a protector, I needed a mate who mirrored my mother’s strength, someone who knew how to kill and hunt. I had such a pathetic, narrow view of strength that I failed to see that you are the one holding the actual future of our people in your hands.”

He took a ragged breath, stepping closer, though his hands remained down.

“No one knows the children better than you. No one has held the hands of our dying elders with more grace than you. I am completely ashamed that I ever deemed you unequal to the title of a leader's mate, when the truth is... I am not equal to you. I was too blinded by my own arrogance to see that the only person lacking true strength in that room... was me.” Neteyam took a deliberate step back, physically granting you the space to breathe. “I do not ask for your forgiveness today. Or even tomorrow. But I swear to you, by the Great Mother, I will spend every single sunrise for the rest of my life proving to you that I can be a man worthy of standing by your side.”

His words hung heavily in the crisp, cool morning air. He stared at you, desperate, begging for any sign that the ice in your chest had thawed. But the memory of the tears you had shed over him was too fresh, the wound too deep. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you soften.

Keeping your face entirely flat, your voice cut through his lingering hope like a sheet of ice. “Are you done?”

Neteyam’s ears twitched with a faint, visible pang of grief. He swallowed hard, his tail lowering. “Yes.”

“Okay, then move.”

You didn't wait for him to fully step aside, you pushed right past his shoulder, your basket tightly gripped in your hands. Neteyam didn't try to stop you again. He simply stood in the center of the camp, watching your retreating back, his chest hollowed out by the brutal realization that words would never be enough to fix the wreckage he had caused.

You marched straight down to the riverbank, your heart hammering violently against your ribs as you refused to look back. Your hands were shaking so hard you could barely loop the leather straps of the massive communal waterskins over your arms. You braced your knees, preparing to haul the immense weight back up the ridge, when a massive hand suddenly gripped the leather straps, effortlessly lifting the weight completely out of your grasp.

You snapped your head up, a sharp scowl flaring on your face. “I told you to move.”

“I did move,” he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, his eyes downcast to the riverbed so he didn't look like he was challenging your authority. Without an ounce of strain, he swung the massive, heavy waterskins over his broad shoulders, a weight that would have made your knees buckle instantly. “But I cannot let you carry this.”

You could hear the faint, underlying rumble of frustration in his throat, not at you, but at the fact that anyone in this camp had allowed you to haul such a ridiculous weight by yourself.

“Do you do this every day?” he asked, his lips thinning into a tight line as he looked at the steep ridge trail.

“I don't need your help,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “But if you are going to insist on stealing my chores, the least you can do is do it in absolute silence.”

Neteyam bit his lower lip, turning his head away to stifle the sudden, breathless smile that threatened to break across his face. Hello there, little fire. He had never seen this side of you. You were always so gentle, so soft-spoken, and kind. He had never seen your eyes flash with such fierce, blinding spirit, and the fact that it was directed entirely at him made his blood sing.

For the next weeks, Neteyam turned the Olangi camp into his personal proving ground.

He completely outworked you. Every single time your fingers so much as brushed against a tool, a knife for chopping vegetables, a basket of heavy laundry, a broom for the tent mats, Neteyam would materialize from the shadows, silently and gently prying it from your hands. It was driving you entirely insane. You wanted to ignore him, you wanted to freeze him out, but it is impossible to ignore a towering warrior who is literally completing your entire daily checklist while you are forced to sit on the sidelines with your arms crossed.

The Olangi clan watched the entire spectacle with utter fascination. Elders would sit outside their tents, whispering in amusement as they watched the proud, decorated heir of Toruk Makto skinning vegetables, scrubbing blackened cooking pots until they shined, and carrying logs that usually required two men, all for one furious forest girl. They knew he was courting you, but given the permanent scowl on your face, they all collectively agreed he must have committed a crime of historic proportions.

He would touch down the exact moment his morning patrol ended and refuse to leave until the communal dinners were finished. He wouldn't even sit with the Olangi to eat, he would wait by the washing basins, tracking your movements until you approached with a dirty dish, only to grab it first. He would have tied you to a support beam before he ever let you scrub grease in the kitchens again.

By the middle of the second month, you sat between Suk’tet’s legs while she braided your hair. She was completely healed, her strength entirely restored, her eyes as sharp as ever.

“You have been far from the jungle for too long, child,” she said softly, her fingers weaving the leather ties into your hair. “As much as my old heart loves your presence, I know this endless sky is not the home you grew up in. You have made good friends here... but everything you have ever known is the forest. The Hometree. Your father’s people.”

A quiet ache settled in your chest. It was true. You missed the canopy. “Back at Hometree... I do not have a biological family left, Auntie,” you muttered, turning to face her. “Here, I have you. But... I do miss the children. The little ones I told you about.”

Suk’tet smiled warmly, cupping your cheek with a calloused hand. “You are a beautiful soul, Y/N. Everywhere your feet tread, people learn to love you. They cling to you and build a home around you. You barely knew me, yet you nursed an old woman back from the grave.”

You smiled back, your eyes crinkling. “You are blood of my blood, Suk’tet. I would do it again, though I prefer you stay healthy.”

She let out a dry chuckle, clearing her throat as her eyes turned mischievous. “The son of Toruk Makto... he is your lover?”

Your face erupted into a furious, flustered scowl. “No!” you insisted, though the sudden, violent racing of your pulse gave you away instantly.

Suk’tet simply scoffed, a knowing smirk on her lips. “I see.”

You packed your meager belongings that very afternoon. Ziklan, ever the loyal friend, insisted on guiding you back to the Omatikaya boundaries, a trek that took two full days on the backs of the swift direhorses.

You had absolutely no idea the level of absolute chaos your sudden departure had caused Neteyam.

When he had arrived at the plains two days ago only to leard that you had left with Ziklan, his mind had shattered. He had spent forty-eight hours flying over the forest canopy, terrified that you weren't coming back to the forest at all, that you were fleeing from him forever.

The moment your direhorses broke through the dense foliage into the Omatikaya clearing, a crowd of scouts was already assembled, already mounted on direhorses. Neteyam was at the front.

“Y/N!” his voice broke, his shoulders slumping in a wave of relief so massive it looked as though he might collapse. He was moving toward you before your mount had even come to a full stop.

Before you could even slide off the saddle, Neteyam’s arms were around your waist, pulling you down into a fierce, crushing hug that buried his face into the crook of your neck. The surrounding scouts watched with wide, wondering eyes.

You pressed a firm palm against his hard chest, pushing back until he reluctantly peeled himself off you, though his hands lingered on your waist.

“Ziklan,” Neteyam greeted, turning a sharp but respectful nod toward the Olangi hunter. “Your journey took too long.”

Ziklan raised his hands in the air, a massive, unbothered grin on his face. “Hey, don't shoot the messenger, warrior, as they say.”

Neteyam let out a low huff, and you immediately leveled him with a sharp glare. “The journey always takes two days, Neteyam.”

Neteyam quickly cleared his throat, “Of course,” he nodded without a fight before turning back to Ziklan. “You should stay for supper, Ziklan.”

Before you could force Ziklan to say yes, a chorus of high-pitched shrieks echoed from the Hometree’s entryway. A dozen children from the nursery came tearing down the dirt path, their little feet flying as they chanted your name. Your face split into a brilliant, breathless smile. You dropped to your knees, throwing your arms wide as the kids tackled you into the dirt, their little hands clutching at your clothes, nuzzling their faces against yours.

Neteyam watched with a soft, incredibly tender smile. They had missed you terribly. The entire village had.

That evening, the kitchens prepared a feast that felt more like a celebration for a returning warrior than an errand girl. The older cooks completely barred you from the hearth, shoving you into a seat and telling you to just rest and be served for once. You spent the night sharing stories of the plains, while Tuk and Popiti sat close, Tuk beaming with absolute joy that your heart had chosen to return home. Mo'at herself greeted you with a warm touch to your shoulder, asking after Suk'tet with a look that told you she knew exactly what had been happening on those plains.

The moment the feast concluded and the crowds began to disperse, Neteyam stayed behind to gather the trash. You stayed too, slipping into your familiar routine. A few of the older kitchen women lingered, scrubbing the large pots, their eyes darting between you and the towering boy across the room.

“Y/N,” one of them whispered loudly, leaning over the counter with a massive grin. “Is it true? Did Neteyam really fly to the plains every single sunrise for two moons just to watch you chop roots?”

“Is he your lover?” another chimed in, nudging your ribs.

“Or is he still courting you?”

Your face flushed a violent, burning purple. “No! None of that,” you stammered, frantically scrubbing a leaf plate. “He was only flying out so Tuk could play with Popiti.”

The older woman let out a loud huff. “Oh, please! Popiti has been living in the forest for over a moon now, and Neteyam didn't fly Tuk to the plains a single time before you left. He only had wings when you were out there, child.”

You denied everything until your throat was dry, but the denial was entirely futile. If Neteyam had stolen your chores on the plains, he doubled his efforts now that you were back on his home turf.

He began waking up before the first light of dawn, hauling waterskin after waterskin up from the river to fill the kitchen reservoirs before you even opened your eyes, completely eliminating your morning lifting routine. When you went to prep vegetables, he was already there, moving in a silent, perfect rhythm beside you. The head cooks just watched the two of you with silent amusement, never asking questions.

One afternoon, you returned to your sleeping mat after a long day in the forest with the children and found a beautiful, custom-made quiver resting on your furs. Inside were a dozen hunting arrows, each one perfectly balanced, featuring a unique and intricate fletching of bright blue and silver fibers. You bit your lip, your fingers tracing the soft feathers. You knew the handiwork instantly. The sheer, relentless devotion of the gesture finally chipped away the last of the icy armor around your heart. You couldn't even remember why you were supposed to be angry anymore.

The next morning, during the meal prep, Neteyam silently slid into the seat beside you, reaching for a basket of unpeeled roots.

“Why are you doing this, Neteyam?” you asked quietly, your voice losing its sharp edge entirely. “You are a warrior. You shouldn't be wasting your hours on meager kitchen labor or crafting arrows for a novice.”

Neteyam stopped his knife. He turned his head, his amber eyes completely bare, stripping away every ounce of his warrior pride as he looked at you.

“I told you before, Y/N... I was completely blind,” he said, his voice dropping into a deep, resonant chest tone. “I was so consumed by the council’s beliefs on how a leader must fight that I completely forgot how a leader must care for his people. I hunt, and I scout, and I bleed for this clan, but you have been the one keeping them together since we were children. You are so much more noble, so much stronger, and far more vital to the survival of the Omatikaya than I will ever be. This clan has a hundred hunters and warrior. But there is only one you. For them... and for me.”

He took a sharp breath, his fingers trembling slightly against the wooden table.

“I know you will not believe me, but when my grandmother first suggested you as my betrothed... I wanted it so desperately that the intensity of my own selfishness terrified me. In my panic, I tried to hide behind duty. In my immense stupidity, I failed to realize that the best decision I could ever make for our people was to follow my heart. A leader protects the people, Y/N... but it is you who teaches them who they are. I cannot live a life without you.”

Your heart hammered so violently against your ribs you felt completely breathless. You stared at him, your throat tight, before quickly looking down at the half-chopped fruit in your lap.

“I...” you whispered, your lips puckering slightly as you peered up through your eyelashes. “Well... I was just going to say that I want to be your friend again. I am tired of being annoyed at you...”

Neteyam’s entire face lit up, a brilliant, breathtaking smile tearing across his lips as he bit his lower lip to keep from shouting. “Then I will be the greatest... friend this world has ever seen,” he vowed softly. “I promise. I won't mess up again.”

You shrugged, a small chuckle escaping you. “None of us are perfect, Neteyam. We make mistakes. To be fair... I was mean to you, too, over the last two moons.”

He let out a rough, breathless laugh, shaking his head. “It doesn't matter. I deserved every single bit of it.”

“Agreed,” you murmured, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.

His eyes danced with light. “Can I... can I sit at your table for dinner tonight?”

“My table?” you asked, raising a brow. “The nursery children sit there. They are incredibly rowdy.”

“I don't care,” Neteyam said instantly, his posture softening. “I can help you feed them.”

That night, the older members of the clan watched as Neteyam sat at the children's table, completely buried under a mountain of toddlers.

The kids were entirely oblivious to his fierce warrior reputation, the only thing that’s important is that they can climb on his massive frame like a Hometree branch, and having him at their table was an absolute fun time. Two small toddlers were hanging off his shoulders, another was pulling on his ear, and Neteyam didn't care in the slightest. He spent the entire meal helping you cut up meat and wipe messy faces, so focused on the task that by the time the kids were full, neither of you had touched your own food.

You looked down at his leaf plate, which was still piled high with untouched food, and let out a bright laugh. Neteyam grinned back, finally taking a bite, only to nearly choke when a two-year-old suddenly tackled his neck from behind.

“Alright, alright, we should let him eat,” you chuckled, gently prying the toddler off his back. The little girl immediately flopped into your lap, yawning hugely before snuggling her head against your chest. You tickled her nose, angling your head to look down at her sleepy face. “Always so sleepy when your belly is full, aren't you?”

The child let out a soft grunt, and you heard Neteyam let out a low, deep chuckle beside you.

Up on the leader's dais, Neytiri and Mo'at watched the scene unfold, exchanging a silent, amused look, shaking their heads in unison. If the boy had only listened to them the first time, this path would have been infinitely easier, but by choosing the long, painful route, he had managed to show you a depth of devotion that words alone could never have conquered.

The weeks that followed blurred into a seamless routine. You were together almost every waking hour, except when he's on border patrols or you're on your lessons with the children.

Meanwhile, Tuk and Popiti became a permanent fixture of teasing, constantly trailing behind you like two tiny, blue shadow-demons intent on destroying your sanity.

“I think you should have seven babies,” Tuk announced one afternoon, skipping backward ahead of you while balancing a basket of berries on her head. “Three boys to hunt with Neteyam, three girls to be with you, and one extra to just run around and be loud with us.”

“What?” you sputtered, nearly tripping over a stray root. “Tuk, please. I am just trying to sort these medical leaves, don’t be silly.”

Popiti leaned in, her eyes flashing as she mischievously smirked. “Seven is an uneven number, Tuk. Highly impractical for horse formations. I suggest eight. Four pairs. And the binding ceremony must happen before the next high moon, otherwise, the gossip in the weaving tents will go stale, and my mother says stale gossip is a sin.”

“I am right here,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “And gossip? What gossip?”

“Just something we’re working on,” Tuk chirped, completely unbothered. “We're just helping! You two are not going the way Mom said you’re going so someone has to do the logistics.”

Before you could threaten to assign them both to communal pot-scrubbing duty for a month, a trio of older kitchen women intercepted you near the drying racks. They looked at you with their arms crossed and their expressions a mixture of intense maternal scrutiny and absolute glee.

“Ah, finally you are back,” the elder called out, a sharp smirk cutting across her wrinkled face. “Y/N, come here. We need you to settle a wager before we throw these two little birds into the river.”

You stopped, raising an eyebrow. “A wager?”

The older woman gestured dramatically toward Tuk and Popiti, who were suddenly looking very innocent. “These two have been running from the nursery to the looms telling everyone who will listen that Neteyam has already built you a formal three-room kelku on the high branches, that he has personally wrestled a palulukan to make your wedding leathers, and that you have secretly agreed to move the entire Olangi direhorse herd into the middle of our hunting grounds.”

You felt the blood rush to your ears so fast they practically vibrated. All of those are ridiculous. “What?”

“Oh, it gets better,” another elder chuckled, leaning over a basket of sweet roots. “Tuk swore to the Tsahik this morning that you and her brother already shared the first mating bond under the stars, and that Neteyam cried tears of joy for three hours straight afterward.”

“I did not say three hours!” Tuk shouted defensively, her face flushing. “I said two! And he didlook like he was going to cry when I saw him earlier today!”

“Tuk! Popiti!” you gasped, your voice cracking as you looked between the girls and the highly entertained elders. “Neteyam has not built a kelku, he has not wrestled a palulukan, and he absolutely, under no circumstances, cried for two hours! There is no mating ceremony, and the direhorse herd is staying exactly where it is!”

The older woman let out a theatrical sigh, shaking her head as she handed a couple of iridescent rocks to the woman next to her. “A pity. I lost five beads on the palulukan. But you cannot blame us for checking, child. The future Olo'eyktan has been walking around looking all lovesick for moons now. We had to verify the misinformation before Mo'at started scheduling the clan dance.”

“Go play in the mud, you two,” you muttered, swatting at the girls' shoulders as they giggled and sprinted off toward the river. You turned back to the smirking elders, utterly exhausted. “Please tell me Neteyam hasn't heard any of this.”

The woman just winked. “Oh, he heard the part about the crying. Lo'ak made sure of it.”

You nearly choked, your eyes closing in frustration, mostly because you were desperately trying to pretend that the moment of him saying he couldn't live without you never happened. But you also know that the tension between you was growing heavy. You couldn’t completely go back to what you two used to be. Things have now shifted into something thick, dark, and predatory.

One time, you caught him watching you from across the training clearing. His golder eyes were dark, heavy, and burning with a fierce heat as they tracked the curve of your waist. When he noticed you catching him, he simply raised a slow, challenging brow before turning back to his bow. That wasn’t the first time you caught him looking at you with that same look and he’s not exactly shy about it at all.

“Focus,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing the tip of your ear. “Draw the string back to your jaw.”

He stood directly behind you, his massive chest framing your back, his large, warm hands resting firmly on your hips to adjust your stance. He pulled your hips back slightly, aligning your spine against his hard frame, and you completely forgot how to draw air into your lungs.

You tried to focus on the woven target tied to a distant three, swinging in the air to simulate a moving target. You swallowed hard, pulling the heavy string back until your knuckles grazed your cheek. You held your breath, tracking the swinging target through the dappled sunlight, and released.

The arrow cut through the air before embedding itself dead-center in the moving bullseye.

You shrieked in absolute delight, your jaw dropping. Without thinking, you spun around and jumped directly into Neteyam’s arms, laughing hysterically against his shoulder as you jumped on the soles of your feet.

“Hell yeah!” Neteyam cheered as he caught you effortlessly, his massive arms locking around your lower back, lifting your feet off the ground as he twirled around, his deep laugh rumbling directly into your chest.

“You are capable of anything, Y/N,” he murmured against your jaw, his grip tightening until you were flush against him. “You always have been.”

You leaned back slightly but you didn't pull away completely, your eyes locking onto his lips, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you tilted your head a fraction of an inch closer as your wide, golden eyes peered up at him. That tiny, deliberate movement was all the permission his starved soul needed.

Neteyam’s breath hitched, a low, desperate sound tearing from the back of his throat as he closed the remaining distance. His lips crashed into yours with the force of a breaking dam.

It wasn was heavy, consuming, and desperate right away, carrying the weight of a year's worth of unspoken longing. One of his massive hands slid up to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your braids to hold you firmly against him, while his other hand clamped around your waist, crushing your frame entirely against his. He kissed you like a starving man who had finally found the only thing capable of keeping him alive, pouring every ounce of his soul into the pressure of his mouth.

When his teeth gently caught your tongue and sucked, deep and demanding, a soft whimper escaped you. You pulled back just an inch, your eyes wide and your face burning with a scandalized, breathless laugh.

“Neteyam!” you whispered-shouted, looking around the empty canopy.

He bit his lower lip, his amber eyes glowing with joy. “Sorry...” he mumbled, though his smirk told a completely different story. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours and pressing a hard kiss against your lips. “I love you, Y/N. So much. I love you so much.”

You stared up at him, your lips tingling, wet and swollen from his kisses. Giving in completely, you stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him back down for another.

Now that the threshold had been crossed, the forest became a beautiful, dangerous paradise of stolen moments.

It started on an afternoon in the deep brush, where you were supposed to be gathering red fire-ferns for the healing pavilion. Neteyam had volunteered to ‘guard’ you, which apparently meant standing entirely too close and distracting you every time you reached for a stem.

“You missed one,” he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, heavy register.

You looked down at the perfectly bare patch of earth. “Neteyam, there is literally nothing there but dirt.”

“I was talking about this,” he countered smoothly. Before you could call him out on his terrible tracking logic, his large hand was already pulling you sharply into the thick, shadows of the broad-leafed ferns.

He pinned your lower back against the damp trunk of a massive tree, his mouth dropping onto yours with a sudden, breathless hunger. You pulled him closer by his hunting harness, your quiet gasps for air completely muffled by the bruising rhythm of his lips. By the time he let you go, your basket was half-empty and your lips had a telltale crimson.

Two days later, the tension followed you up to the shadow of the ikran roost. You were wrapping a fresh leather strap around the chest piece of his riding gear, trying to focus while his golden eyes tracked your every movement.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you muttered, pulling the knot tight. “People are watching from the lower ledges.”

“No, they aren't,” Neteyam whispered back, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his lips.

You stepped back, biting your lip with a feigned fear and his hand shot out to grab your wrists, gently but unyieldingly pinning them against the wall, stepping into your space until his hard chest completely crowded you out. He leaned down, his tail wrapping firmly around your ankle to anchor you in place.

“Neteyam, someone might land an ikran,” you whispered-shouted, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“Then they land,” he mumbled playfully against your jaw before his mouth caught yours again. He sucked on your lower lip, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over your wrists until you stopped resisting and melted completely into the wall behind you.

But the true madness always happened long after the village had gone to sleep.

You met in the highest branches of Hometree, far above the sleeping tiers where the night air was still and cool. The moss beneath you glowed with a soft, pulsing blue light, casting an ethereal shimmer over Neteyam’s bare chest as he pulled you into his lap.

“You smell so good,” he whispered, his face buried deep in the crook of your neck, his teeth gently nipping the sensitive skin right above your collarbone.

You chuckled. “I just tried Popiti’s root sap,” you mumbled, a soft shiver running down your spine as his long fingers traced a burning path up your inner thigh. You reached up, your fingers tangling into the thick beads of his queue. “If the kids wake up and find my mat empty, I am blaming you entirely.”

Neteyam huffed a laugh against your lips, “Tuk and Popiti had spread more gossips among their flock. They really believed I wrestled a palulukan for you, I have their approval.”

You burst into a quiet, breathless laugh against his mouth, the sound immediately cut off as he pulled you down into a deep, consuming kiss that left both of you completely lost in the dark canopy.

Tonight was no different. The sky was decorated with thousands of stars but the distant waterfalls glowing with a soft, ethereal light was your main view as you sat nestled comfortably between Neteyam’s long legs, your back resting securely against his broad chest as the two of you shared a sweet fruit.

“I have a confession,” Neteyam murmured, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “When Popiti moved to the village and ended my excuses to fly to the plains... I genuinely thought my world had ended. And then that little demon doubled down by telling me Ziklan was going to make you his mate.” He let out a low, fake gasp, imitating Popiti's high voice: “And they'll be mated soon, and that means babies also!”

You burst into a loud, echoing laugh, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “She completely misinterpreted our friendship.”

“She did,” Neteyam muttered, his lips trailing down to press a warm, lingering kiss against the side of your neck. “But those words echoed in my mind every single day, even after Ziklan told me he wasn't courting you. I was losing my mind.”

“Told you? Did you confront him?" you asked, craning your neck to give his lips more room against your skin.

“Sort of...“ He whispered, his hands sliding beneath your top to rest against the warm skin of your ribs. “I told Tuk you would come home when your heart wished it... but in my head, I was already drafting an entire list of arguments to drag you back if you choose not to.”

“Such as?” you teased, your breath hitching as his fingers began to trace slow, deliberate circles upward.

“Like... ‘if you never come home, what about the children?’” he murmured against your ear, making you laugh even harder.

“Neteyam, you sound like I left you to be a single father,” you snorted, closing your eyes as his lips traced a burning path down the length of your neck to your collarbone.

“It felt like it, too,“ he chuckled. “The kids ask for you the second I take them into the brush.”

His mouth found yours again, cutting off your reply with a deep, heavy kiss that stole the remaining air from your lungs. His hands slid down to your hips, his fingers slipping beneath your loincloth, his calloused thumb finding your center through the thin fabric.

A sharp, needy whimper vibrated in your throat as your hips bucked automatically against his hand.

“You are so wet already...“ Neteyam growled against your lips, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly register.

His long fingers caressed your slit, humming when he found you really slick. He parted your velvety folds to expose your burning heat, inserting two fingers in one, deep stroke, making you moan loudly against his mouth as he anchored your hip with his other hand. His thumb pressed firmly against your clit, moving in a frantic, relentless rhythm that had you shaking within seconds.

He pulled his mouth away, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his head lowered in your chest, his teeth gently nipping at your skin while his fingers worked your pussy into absolute madness. You stifled your moans, your hand grabbing his large forearm, your head falling back against his shoulder.

The combination of his fingers stretching you inside, his other hand kneading your breast, and his mouth sucking at your pebbled tip had your mind splintering. The terrifying thrill of anyone seeing both of you here added to your pleasure.

“Neteyam—” you cried out, your fingers locking into his braids as your body tightened into a violent, shuddering climax.

You shook in his arms, your walls clamping rhythmically around his fingers as he held you tightly through the storm, kissing you hard as you fell weak against him. You are literally forced out of your body by the shattering pleasure he has given you that when his hands moved with a purposeful hunger to turn your body around in his lap, you feel like a twig that had separated from a bark, hanging loosely but holding on for dear life.

His large hand held your other thigh to make you straddle him. His hand caressed its way up your back, clamping on your nape as his lips came crashing down on yours. You kissed him back, holding tight onto his shoulders. He kissed his way down to your breasts, sucking and biting before he lowered you down on the flat and wide surface of the branch.

He adjusted between your legs, fitting his large body between them until your felt his mouth on your warmth. He laid his tongue flat, licking your slit before sucking at your sensitive nub.

“Oh, Neteyam!” you moaned before biting your lip, your hips bucking away from the stimulation of his tongue’s pressure on your clit, urging a release from you that he ultimately got.

You felt a warm liquid gush out of you and his tongue licked you clean as he untied your loincloth around your tail. He let out a low chuckle when you bucked away from his mouth again, kissing your inner thigh and squeezing the other. He hovered over you as he reached behind him to shed his own loincloth.

You bit your lip as you watched him, spreading your legs for him as you watched his loincloth peel away. His hand held your thigh to spread it wider, his other hand holding his cock that you are currently eyeing. It wasn't your first time seeing it... but it still daunts you.

You licked your lips wet, reaching out to wrap your fingers around it. He let go of it to let you have your way with him, groaning as you twisted your fingers softly around this girth. You smiled, watching him tremble as his hold on your thigh tightened from the agonizing stimulation, but after a while of allowing you to play with him, he pushed you thigh back, your foot resting flat on his bicep.

He looked at you, his dark eyes grazing your naked form, his lower lip caught between his teeth. He lowered himself down a little, his large arm circling around your torso, his hand holding you by your nape. “I love you so much,” he mumbled, kissing you.

He guided the wide head of his shaft to your wamrth, pushing against your defenses. He was breathing heavily, and you can tell he wanted to close his eyes by the time he successfully slid the head into your warmth, but that he's fighting it.

His other hand lowered down to cup your butt cheek, helping him guide himself better as he sinks down into your tight walls. The girth was immense and you're barely breathing, feeling like someone's trying to insert a rod into you that which does not belong there. He was so thick and large and you feel every inch of him in you.

“You're so big...” you mewled, panicking a little.

He hushed you softly, kissing your lips. “You can take it all, baby...” he mumbled, his hand reaching out to softly rub your clit just as he was sinking in.

He kisses your neck to amp the distractions, taking you away from the immense fullness in your pussy, making you moan in absolute pleasure. One of his hands came up to cover your mouth and the next thing he did explained why: he pushed the remaining length into you in one go, and a loud, strangled moan tore from your throat.

Your eyes widened, your inner walls stretching to their absolute limits around his immense thickness, a sensation of pure, suffocating fullness locking your hips in place.

“Fuck, baby, you are so tight...” he groaned his forehead resting against yours as his thumb found your clit again, gently rubbing the bundle of nerves to ease the stretch.

His mouth claimed your mouth again, kissing you thoroughly, sucking at your tongue. The moment your body adjusted, he began to move. He started with slow, agonizingly deep pulls, bottoming out against your core before picking up a frantic, relentless pace. The branch beneath you moved softly with the rhythm of his thrusts. Neteyam buried his face in your neck, his deep, guttural grunts vibrating against your skin as he forcefully pounded into you.

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer, your mind completely vacant of anything but the white-hot electricity of his body moving inside yours, moaning his name when the tension snapped completely.

Neteyam let out a loud groan into the night air as he came inside you, his entire body going rigid as he buried his face in your braids, holding you so tightly against his chest it felt as though he wanted to fuse your spirits permanently. You rode the wave of his release, your own body shattering into a blinding climax that left both of you completely spent, tangled together on the high, mossy branch.

Long after the heat had cooled, Neteyam remained hovering over you, his fingers gently stroking your cheek as he pulled the leather ties from your hair, letting your braids fall loose against the bark.

“Please, don’t ever leave me again,” he whispered into the quiet dark, his eyes soft and filled with a peace you had never seen in him.

You let out a soft, tired chuckle, wrapping your arms securely around his neck. “I don't think I could leave even if I wanted to. My heart is entirely trapped here,” you mumbled. “With the children and all.“ you added, pursing your lips.

His head lifted, his eyes playfully narrowed. “Uh-huh?”

You let your head fall down the moss. “And with you... Maybe one-fourth of it...”

Neteyam stifled a smile, his eyes alight. He bent down to press a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. “I guess I can’t fight those littles all at once... Not when they are always one jump at my neck away from choking me.”

[neteiam]

IT’S YOU

having strict parents meant watching in silence as your lover was about to become someone else’s mate.

warnings : (18+ MDNI), neteyam x omatikaya fem!reader, mature themes, explicit s3xual content, strong language, angst, mutual pining (yearning), forbidden love, arranged pair, jealousy, risk of getting caught, reader is complicated!!!, neteyam is vv desperate that he cries :((, wayyy too much begging, depression, getting drunk, injury, intimate s3x (if u close ur eyes), MANYY smut (P in V), dirty talk, pet names, praise knk, light degradation, dry hmping, hair pulling, spanking, oral (f & m receiving), face sitting, missionary, doggy style, creampie, breeding, tsaheylu while cracking 🤪, etc… (imsorry)

a/n : I was listening to never lose me and when cardi b’s part came on where she says “pussy so good, make him do what I say” i js thought alright thats exactly how this plot is being formed mwehehe. can u believe i sctually have to write the things I wanna read ¿ like why cant it just exist already… also, im accepting requests please dont be shy, i need ideas 😞 there might be errors 🫩 quick question! what pet names make u melt when u read em ¿? I realized I tend to rely heavily on “baby” because it’s my personal fav , but I obv dont want it to get repetitive for yall hehe so... lmk what other terms of endearment u love so I can mix things up 🤭

wc : 20k (no proofread)

Since the day you were born, your life had already been planned for you. The future envisioned for you always outweighed the one you imagined for yourself.

Watching your friends live by the saying, “You Only Live Once,” was all you could do.

At least, that was what your parents expected of you.

They aren’t strict or anything, in fact they loved you. They loved you in the only way they knew how: through control.

But in their eyes, they werent being cruel, and were just preparing you for the life Eywa intended.

You were told not to rush through life. Taught not to seek a mate too soon, not to entertain the attention of boys just yet, and to devote yourself to the Tsahìk’s teachings.

Right now, it felt very far away as your body lay on the soft grass, breathing heavily after the intense orgasm Neteyam had just given you. His strong arms were wrapped around your waist from behind, spooning you as he pressed kisses behind your ear.

You squeezed his hand that rested on your waist in which he squeezed back. You turned onto your back and looked up at him. He leaned down and met your eyes before you pulled him into a deep kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.

You both sighed into the kiss. When you pulled away, he tried to lean in again but you placed a finger on his lips, stopping him. “...Neteyam,” you whispered, looking away while your arms stayed around his neck.

He hummed, before pulling you back into another kiss, and when he pulled away, he brushed the hair from your face gently. “I missed you, baby…”

You didn’t respond and just let him hold you even though you knew you shouldn’t. You had already ended things with him weeks ago. You told him it was over. Yet here you were again, letting him touch you like you still belonged to him.

You had heard the elders talking about pairing one of the huntresses in the clan with the Olo’eyktan’s first son for the upcoming mating ceremony in the next moons.

It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

That was why you gave Neteyam that stupid excuse, telling him you wanted a break because you had fallen out of love.

After all, it wasn’t as if your relationship was anywhere near actual mating; the two of you were strictly forbidden. Hell, you could get yourself killed if your parents ever found out that you hadn’t been a virgin for a long time, all because you had been secretly dating Neteyam.

At first, he didn’t believe you. He even laughed and said it wasn’t a good prank. But your face told him you were serious. The pain in his eyes that day still stayed with you.

After that, you started distancing yourself from him. You worked more with the elders knowing he couldn’t approach you easily when others were around.

But Neteyam kept coming back to you anyway. He would get himself injured on purpose just to have a reason to see you. Every visit was supposed to be quick and professional, but most nights ended with him fucking you senseless, your soul feeling like it was leaving your body.

Even though you kept telling him to stop being foolish, and warning him about the danger of getting caught, he never listened. He just refused to believe you really fallen out of love with him, not when his heart was still so ready to tear down the stars and give you everything you thought was impossible.

“You must stop this, sneaking me out into the forest like this… I told you that I—”

Neteyam cuts you off by pulling you into another sloppy kiss. He moved on top of you again, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he rubbed his cock against your pussy. You pulled away from the kiss and pushed his chest, sitting up.

“I said stop.”

Neteyam’s eyebrows knitted together in pain as he looked at you. You had to turn your face away because seeing him like that made your chest hurt too much. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what I did wrong. Why are you doing this, baby?” he whispered, reaching for your hands on your lap.

You swatted his hand away and grabbed your loincloth, fastening it around your waist. “I’ve told you already... I don’t feel the same anymore. It’s as simple as that.”

Neteyam sat up beside you, pulling on his own, his eyes never leaving your face. “I don’t believe you, not even a little,” he choked out, his voice cracking. “Please... tell me what’s happening. I’ll fix it, I’ll do anything you ask of me, just talk to me. You may tell me any lie, but don’t ask me to believe that your love has simply vanished…”

You fixed your hair and top with shaking hands then turned toward the village. But before you could walk away, he grabbed your wrist. When you looked at him angrily, he let go reluctantly, eyes dropping to the ground with trembling lips.

“Why won’t you tell me anything?” Neteyam asked, his voice thick with emotion as he stared at you. “We were whole before this... we never even fought, and I made sure to give you every piece of me that I could… whatever burden you’re carrying… let me bear it with you. Please.”

He stared at your back as you breathed, listening to every word he said. “What part of ‘I fell out of love’ do you not understand, Neteyam?” you replied. “We’re simply not meant to walk the same path. There’s a far better match for you out there—”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he cut in, raising his deep voice. “I only want you…”

You finally turned to face him, biting your lip hard. “Well, I don’t.” Your eyes met his golden ones, now glistening with unshed tears.

He looked like you had just stabbed him, his ears pinned back and his tail stopped moving completely. “Don’t say that… please,” he whispered, stepping closer to you. “You’re lying to me... I know you are. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Believe whatever you wish but you must stop coming to me. Stop sneaking into my hut. Stop… everything!”

Neteyam frowned. “I love you, y/n…”

You felt tears burning hot behind your eyes once again. You desperately wanted to tell him everything, about your endless worries, what you had overheard, and how you’d wanna be in his arms again. But the words remained heavily stuck in your throat, refusing to come out.

“I have to go. Do not follow me.”

You knew both of you had no real say in whatever the council decided for your futures. You told yourself you were doing both of you a favor, even if it was breaking you inside.

It wasn’t long before Neteyam found out about his own arranged mating. He sat through the meeting, nodding along to everything they said, but his mind was elsewhere. He was connecting the dots, realizing this was probably why you suddenly ended things with him.

After it ended, he left as fast as he could and went straight to look for you. He was lucky to find you alone. When you heard a footsteps, you already knew it was him, so you kept your back turned and continued wiping the jars.

“Is that it? You’re letting me go just because I’m to be arranged with another?”

You sighed, placing the jar down a little too hard against the wood before turning to face him, looking him straight in the eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Why not? Do you really think we could go somewhere from this?”

Neteyam furrowed his brows and stepped even closer, braids swinging, his tall frame towering over you as his ears pinned back. “So you’re just going to throw me away? Throw us away? Just like that?”

“What else can I do?!” you shouted. “What can you do?! The Council of Elders has already spoken. You cannot defy them!”

“I can,” he stated, his golden eyes blazing. “And I will. If that’s the only hurdle between us, I’ll stand before them and end this arrangement myself.”

Your eyes widened i shock, you opened your mouth, but the breath caught in your throat, forcing yourself to speak. “…If you do that, you’ll never see my face or hear my voice again, Neteyam. I mean every word.”

You watched his eyes widen as he looked away, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, “What do you want me to do then? Just force myself into this? You know how much my heart belongs to you. Why won’t you let me fight for us?”

You turned your back to him completely, refusing to let him see the pain on your face. “There’s nothing left to fight for. This was bound to happen sooner or later anyway... I’ve been disobeying my parents for far too long already.”

Neteyam stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you from behind. He buried his face in your neck, whimpering as he breathed in your scent. “Please… do not do this. It hurts, baby. It really hurts.”

You swallowed hard, your eye twitching as you felt the warmth of his tears burning against your neck. You pried his hands from around your waist and turned back around to face him. “Go. You must meet the girl. And wipe those tears away.” You snapped your gaze aside, utterly unable to keep looking at his expression.

“I—”

You clenched your jaw and pushed him to the entrance. “Just go, Neteyam. Please. Stop making this any harder.”

It felt like your heart was disintegrating into a thousand pieces as you watched him walk away. His shoulders were slumped, his posture broken, looking like he had to drag the entire weight of the world just to take a single step away from you.

The two of you kept your distance from each other, against your will. He knew very well how much you still wanted him, just like you knew how badly he still craved you.

You later found out that the woman he was arranged to mate with was Reyna’lin. She was one of the best huntresses in the clan, beautiful, amd talented. You weren’t surprised she was chosen.

You often saw them together around the village, walking side by side, talking and getting to know each other. Sometimes they went deeper into the forest together.

However, his gaze always found you, even when you tried to hide. You looked for him too, only to make sure you could avoid him.

Right now, you were talking with the sky-traders who had just returned. And from the corner of your eye, you saw them together. She was holding onto his biceps, pulling him toward the offerings while smiling brightly. She looked perfect beside him, there was no doubt she was one of the most beautiful girls in the clan.

Visiting Mo’at more often for extra lessons helped distract you from thinking about him. You knew there was a possibility something was forming between Neteyam and Reyna’lin. You wouldn’t even blame her for he’s a good man. Majority of the girls in the clan would feel their knees weaken every time he walked by and smiled at them politely.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a female voice called from outside. “Is anybody here?”

You wiped your hands on a cloth and opened the curtain. Your eyes widened when your eyes landed at Reyna’lin and Neteyam standing there. “Good day,” she said, flipping her hair while squeezing his arm. “My boyfriend thought climbing a tree without looking was a good idea. Now he’s injured. Mo’at told us to go here, so I guess you’ll have to do it. Can you make it fast?”

You opened the curtain wider. “Ah— yes, come in.” For a second, time felt like it slowed down when your eyes met Neteyam’s. You quickly looked away. “Just lay him on the mattress then you can go.

Reyna’lin raised an eyebrow at you. “I’m not leaving my boyfriend here. Why can’t I stay while you treat him?” She crossed her arms.

You waved your hands. “We cannot show the herbs to anyone. It’s not safe for the wound if someone stays inside during treatment.”

She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “Are you saying I carry dirt on me?”

“No! I’m only saying it’s safer this way. If he got injured from climbing trees, the wound might be serious.” You gulped.

Reyna’lin was about to argue again when Neteyam spoke up. “Reyna’lin, just go. It’s already hurting.”

She rolled her eyes, walked back to him, and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be back, okay?” She patted his shoulder before leaving.

You gulped again, ignoring the ache in your chest after seeing that. You nodded at her as she walked out. Then you approached Neteyam. “Where’s your wound?” He pointed at his chest, you examined it and saw it was a deep open wound, probably from tree bark.

You took your premade herbs and sat on the mattress beside him, keeping a respectful distance. Theb began wiping the wound with a clean cloth, making him hiss from the sudden contact.

Even after almost a week of silence, he couldn’t stop looking at you.

As you applied the herb, he bit his tongue to hold back a groan. You remembered the old days when you would scold him for getting injured so often. Back then your kelku was filled with banters and laughter when you were alone together, now it’s filled wit silence.

Neteyam took his time examining your face. He watched how your eyebrows moved when you focused on his wound, how your nose scrunched when you pressed the cloth against his skin, and how you bit your lip or gulped often.

He just couldn’t stop admiring you.

A strand of hair fell onto your face, so he reached out and tucked it behind your ear. You looked up at him and leaned in closer. His eyes widened, gaze dropping to your lips as he started leaning in too.

Just when he thought you were about to kiss him, you pulled away and grabbed the bowl behind him. His ears fell back in embarrassment. He mumbled, “...Sorry,” and bowed his head.

Your heart skipped a beat when he finally spoke after staying quiet since Reyna’lin left. You nodded your head, feeling heat rise up your neck from being so close to him.

Then, for some reason, you were glad you had finished treating his wound, wrapping the bandage tightly around his chest to cover the open cut.

You patted his forearms out of habit, like you always did when treating him. You ignored what you just did even though he noticed it too.

You stood up and went to your jars, then approached him again as he sat up. “Here. apply this every evening,” you instructed, placing the jar in his hands. “The paste will draw out heat from the wound and keep the flesh clean while new skin forms beneath it. If you neglect it, the cut will heal poorly and leave a thicker scar.”

He looked at the jar in your hand, then back up at your eyes. You gulped when your gazes met. “I will not.”

You flinched at his response. “Come again?”

“You heard me. I. will. not.”

“That’s not a suggestion, Neteyam. You must. The flesh won’t mend as it should otherwise.” You pressed your eyebrows together, not liking his stubbornness.

“Then let your own hands tend to it. Surely you wouldn’t leave your patient to dress his own wound. What if I were to do it poorly?”

You scoffed at his attempt and pressed your tongue against your teeth. “Then you’ll have only yourself to blame. Or have Reyna’lin tend to it. Surely she would not mind helping her boyfriend. I’ll be far too occupied once the others return from patrol anyway.”

Neteyam stepped closer, pushing the jar against your chest until your back hit the counter. “And I said no. Either you tend to it yourself or I shall let the wound remain open. If it scars, then so be it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Did you do this on purpose as well? Injure yourself again just to trouble me?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Perchance I did. Is it working?”

“If you won’t take it, Neteyam, then stop wasting both my time and yours.”

He still refused to take the jar from your hand. “I would never call seeing you a waste of time, Y/n. I won’t let anyone tend to my wound. Not even my grandmother. If these hands are to heal me, I want them to be yours.”

You felt yourself getting pissed. “You cannot be this stubborn. Just apply the herb yourself. Why must you make this so difficult?”

He took another step toward you, leaving barely any space between your bodies. “Because I want you to… If you refuse, then I shall tell grandmother that my healer has neglected my wound.”

A humorless grin spread across your face. “Are you threatening me?”

“If that’s what it takes to see you…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then yes.”

You shook your head. “Stop this, Neteyam.”

His body pressed against yours, trapping you against the counter. He brought his mouth close to your ear, whispering. “I miss you so much, Y/n. Do you not miss me too?”

You bit your lip hard, trying not to moan when you felt his hard cock pressing against you through his loincloth. His hands moved down to your ass, squeezing gently while his fingers brushed your tail.

He sucked on your earlobe, knowing exactly how sensitive you were there. “Tell me you don’t miss my touch. Tell me you don’t miss me.”

Your thighs rubbed together, breathing getting heavier. “N-Neteyam…” you groaned, pulling on his hair to try and push him away. But your body arched toward him instead, wanting him closer.

He kept whispering against your ear, hands still on your ass. “Let me take care of you again, baby. Let me make you feel good like before, please…”

You were about to give in completely when you heard footsteps outside. Reyna’lin’s voice carried through the air as she bid farewell to her friends and headed toward your hut. You pushed Neteyam away, heart racing. “Move.”

Reyna’lin escorted him back to his family that night. She even gave you looks, implicitly telling you not to make any move on him.

You felt sick to your stomach, really.

-

You let out a hiss when the heavy grinding rock slipped, striking your finger instead of the medicinal leaves you were supposed to be crushing. Grimacing, you brought the finger to your lips, blowing over the throbbing skin, only to hear a sigh from a woman standing just behind you.

“Sorry, Tsahìk,” you murmured, ducking your head in apology.

Mo’at stepped forward, placing a hand upon your shoulder. “One whose thoughts wander far beyond the forest shouldn’t be tending to the wounds within it.”

You gave her a small, sheepish smile, leaning into her comforting touch. “It won’t happen again.”

She gently adjusted the lace at the collar of your top before speaking, “The clan gathers by the hearth in celebration while you stay here. Leave the returning warriors to the hands of the other healers for a time.”

“I insist. I want to help.”

“Your thoughts are elsewhere.“

You assured her it was nothing more than a simple lack of rest. Though she didn’t look convinced, she gave your shoulder a parting squeeze and urged you to find your sleeping mat the moment the opportunity arose.

But before you could slip away, your friends caught you by the arms, dragging you right into the village. The great communal campfire crackled, a group of young hunters had gathered right across from you, their laughter booming over the sparks.

“What about you, y/n?” your friend, Ayrein, asked from your right, her eyes gleaming as she pointed toward the young men laughing in front of you. “What do you think of those guys? Aren’t they handsome?” She nudged your side playfully.

Your eye twitched, “Uhhh…”

Ayrein let out an exaggerated groan. “There she is... Teyanä, I told you she’d dodge the question again.”

The two began arguing over their little bet, each insisting they had predicted your answer correctly and wagering tonight’s dinner as if you weren’t sitting right in front of them.

“I guess they’re.. okay,” you said, glancing toward the group of young men. Both of them looked at you, waiting for more, but you just shrugged your shoulders. “…That’s it.”

“That’s it?!”

“Don’t be boring, y/n,” Ayrein shook your shoulder and turned your head so you would look at the boys. “Just look at them! The finest warriors in the clan, and every one of them is unmated. They keep us safe, bring back our food, and you’re seriously telling me not a single one has caught your eye? Look again, they’re all fine!”

However, your gaze went to the side where you saw Neteyam talking to the children, smiling down at them as he gave them meat.

Your heart skipped at the sight. You had always known how naturally children gravitated toward him. Perhaps it was because he was the eldest, or the kindness simply came as easily to him as breathing. Watching him make them laugh warmed your heart in ways you wished it no longer could.

“...Really fine,” you mumbled.

Ayrein covered her mouth to hide a giggle while Teyanä simply pouted, reaching over to steal a piece of roasted meat from her leaf-plate. “By the way, Tey,” Ayrein said between bites, “why aren’t ya with your hunter?”

Teyanä brushed a long braid over her shoulder, “He said we’re going out into the forest tonight. He has been planning something since sunrise and told me to just be ready.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Teyanä giggled, a deep blush rising on her blue skin. “I’m already prepared, sister. I believe we’re going to mate tonight. I told him I’m in my heat cycle, so I expect he’s going to do something about it.”

“Ma Eywa! Seriously?! Right in front of Y/n too?!” Ayrein glared at her, making a sound of mock disgust before wrapping an arm around you to pull you into a protective hug. “Ignore her. She’s a disgrace.”

Teyanä crossed her arms, a sly smirk playing on her lips. “Do not act so innocent, Ayrein. As if you didn’t just return from the brush of a male’s tongue between your thighs before you walked over here.”

“Hey! No vulgar words in front of Y/n!” Ayrein warned. You chuckled. “It’s alright, Ayrein.”

They looked at each other, before Teyanä finally broke the silence. “No offense, Y/n, but are you really not going to seek a mate anytime soon?”

Ayrein’s smirk faded into a frown, and she nudged your arm gently with her shoulder. “Yeah... Are your parents still... y’know?”

You offered them a small smile and looked on the dancing fire. “I suppose so. I just... I don’t see myself pursuing anyone right now. It’s not that my parents would forbid it, they would just rather I wait.”

“But do you want to? You’re already of age!”

You let out a sigh, your gaze drifting toward the group of young warriors sitting nearby, laughing as they stole food from one another’s plates. “I don’t mind the idea. I just don’t think any of the men you keep trying to pair me with are the ones I would choose.”

“Then go for my brother!” Ayrein said, making you and Teyanä exchange a glance before she continued with a wide grin, “He’s one of the clan’s cooks and I believe he prepared the very meat you’re eating right now, so if you choose him, he will surely keep your bowl full of it.”

You felt a drop of sweat at the suggestion, murmuring, “I don’t believe that’s a wise choice, Ayrein... I’m older than him.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a huff. “Yeahvlike a year! He’s mature, skilled, and gentle, and the more I think on it, the more I see how well your spirits would match.”

Teyanä whistled, nudging your side. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard her offering her own blood to anyone. Ayrein, why the change of heart?”

Ayrein rolled her eyes, scoffing, “It’s just that the other young women here are too entitled, and my brother is one of a kind... he’s exactly the kind of man who could win you over, Y/n.” she winked.

The next day, Ayrein introduced you to her big brother, whose name is Eykxan. You were familiar with him as one of the cooks, but you weren’t really used to talking to boys since your parents didn’t recommend it. However, this guy immediately took an interest in you.

As Ayrein had said, he started giving you food. Every time he saw you, he offered you one of the meals before anyone else could get skme. He also let you taste his new dishes first, letting you try them before the others.

Eykxan was very gentle with you. He always made sure to give you what you wanted and looked for. He told you that before he courted you, he would first court your parents for their permission to take you as his mate.

You just kept nodding and giving him a warm smile, making him flush every time. He was actually serious about it. After two weeks, he already got your father’s approval for always bringing your family early dinners.

Your mother, however, didn’t share everyone else’s opinion of him. During meals, she would always send you looks whenever he sat too close, telling you not to encourage his attention.

Not that you ever did.

The very thought of someone trying to win your heart left a bitter taste in your mouth, for it had belonged to Neteyam long before Eykxan entered your life.

That only made the guilt worse as you hated thinking about him while another man was openly pursuing you, especially when Neteyam himself was meant to be spoken for.

Although Eykxan seemed determined to earn your affection. Every time he came to visit, he arrived with freshly picked flowers in hand, offering them with the same proud smile feeling that each and every gift brought him one step closer to your heart.

Yet every time you looked at them, you found yourself frowning instead. A good thing is that he remembered that you liked flowers, but never that you disliked seeing them plucked from where they bloomed.

Someone else knew how much you hated that.

You remembered the day Neteyam laughed when you told him you disliked picking real flowers because they withered too quickly and you hated stripping the forest of its living beauty. He had only smiled, calling you adorable that night.

Then the very next day, he returned with a bouquet of flowers woven from fabeics. Holding it out to you with that smile, he scratched the back of his neck and said, “You told me you didn’t like real flowers, baby. But you never said anything about woven ones.”

You forced a smile though, not wanting to hurt Eykxan’s feelings. “Thank you, Eykxan.”

“Of course, darling,” he said before grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. You smiled awkwardly and pulled your hand back, placing the flowers on the grass.

“By the way, you should ease in with the... names. And the touching as well. My mother isn’t fond of either. I hope you understand.” You offered him a polite smile.

“I do understand,” Eykxan let out a chuckle. “But y/n, we’re alone. Surely you don’t think I would disrespect you.” His hand rested against your waist. “I’m only trying to make you feel comfortable, I would never do such a thing.”

Your eye twitched. “And I said no. I don’y like it when... you do that.”

He looked at you before withdrawing his hand. “Of course.” He smiled, “My bad. Thought we had grown close enough for something as harmless as that.”

A knot formed in your stomach. “Sorry.”

“Yknow, Y/n… we should—”

“Eykxan.”

Before he could finish his sentence, a voice called out from behind you. You both turned your heads to the source.

Your heart dropped when you saw Neteyam standing there. The boy beside you quickly sat up and bowed respectfully. “Sir!”

Neteyam looked at him with a serious expression. “The kitchens are short-handed and the evening meal begins soon. Tell me, what excuse am I supposed to give the Olo’eyktan for your absence?”

Eykxan looked nervous. “I’m sorry… I just—”

Neteyam cut him off. “Go.” He pointed toward the village, telling him to leave. Eykxan didn’t even glance at you before walking away fast.

When he left, you sighed then picked up the flowers and were about to leave too. Before you could take a step, Neteyam grabbed your wrist, you turned around, heart beating fast when your eyes met his.

“Are you okay?”

You pulled your wrist away and gave him a small smile. “Yes.”

Neteyam stepped closer. “He was making you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head. “No, he wasn’t, Neteyam. He just gave me flowers.”

His gaze fell on the flowers in your hand. He scoffed, braids swinging as he moved even closer. “Yeah? Are you trying to convince yourself?”

You frowned. “What are you implying?”

Neteyam tilted his head. “I’m implying how you dislike freshly picked flowers. That your tail lashes aggressively when you grow uneasy, and your left eye twitches every time you lie. Just as it is doing now.”

You looked away. “You don’t know me.”

Neteyam grinned. “I do. Far better than he ever will.”

You stepped back. “Just leave me alone, Neteyam. I refuse to see you—” Before you could finish, he gently pushed you against the tree and pulled you into a kiss. You stumbled into him, swallowing your words.

His hand held your jaw as he deepened the kiss. When his other hand moved to your waist, you gasped, giving him the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth. You felt his smirk against your lips when your hands moved to his biceps instead of pushing him away.

You pulled away first, keeping your head lowered as you stared at the floor with a deep frown, whispering, “We shouldn’t be doing this…”

Neteyam refused to step back, his warmth remaining flush against yours as he asked, “Why?”

You bit your lip, avoiding his gaze as you murmured, “Reyna’lin might see us, and I… I don’t wish to bring another woman such misery.” You tried to unwrap your arms from his shoulders, but his hands held yours in place, “Then don’t bring it upon me either.”

“What?”

You looked up at him with furrowed brows as he leaned in to press a kiss against your cheek, his breath trembling as he whispered, “Don’t make me miserable too… I cannot endure this life without you.”

“Oh, Neteyam…” You held his cheeks, he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. He pulled you into another kiss hands moved from your waist down to your ass, squeezing and making you hiss.

You kissed him back just as hard, fingers tangling in his braids and pulling him tighter. The jealousy from knowing someone else could be having this made you kiss him even more possessively.

Neteyam groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist before he pulled back to breathe, his chest heaving as he gasped, “I cannot stop thinking about you…”

You bit your lip, gulping hard as you stared up at him, “And what would your future mate think of this?”

Neteyam shook his head fast, ears pinning back as his golden eyes started to water, desperate to convince you as he choked out, “She’s not my future mate. I’ll never give her or anyone else that part of me... it’s all yours to keep.”

You looked away fromn his face, swallowing the lump in your throat as you whispered, “Don’t say that…”

“Please... Don’t push me away again.”

You felt your own eyes sting, heart dropping when you heard him sniffle. You didn’t like seeing Neteyam cry. Groaning in frustration, you pulled him back into a kiss. “You’re so irresponsible.”

Neteyam brought your face closer and kissed you, starting slow until you parted your lips. He responded by placing a hand on your leg and throwing it over his hip.

Your mouths were wet and slippery as he humped against you. You tightened your arms around his shoulders, pulling his hair for support as you could feel his hard cock bulging and rutting against your pussy desperately.

He whimpered into your mouth, hands sliding under you to squeeze your thighs. “May I taste you, baby?”

You hummed against his lips, too weak to resist. He dropped to his knees, looking up at you before biting his lip when his eyes fell on you rubbing your thighs together.

He looked up at you again with that pleading gaze, asking you to open your legs for him, so you did. His heart thumped louder than before. He was trying hard to keep himself together, not wanting to rush this moment with you.

He pushed your loincloth aside and examined your wet pussy, swiping his tongue across it before letting his fingers rub your clit in circles. You sighed, throwing your head back against the tree as your hand found its way to his braid.

He buried his face between your thighs and began devouring your pussy. “Fuck… missed you so much.”

Your hand tightened against his braids, moaning loudly. “Neteyam… oh fuckkk.”

His fingers pressed against your folds, rubbing your clit in slow circles again, then slid his tongue inside you. He looked up at you from between your thighs with teary eyes. “Tell me what you want.”

You whimpered. “Fuck… fuck me.”

He groaned and pushed two fingers inside you, curling them perfectly. “Shit… you want that?”

You nodded fast, thighs shaking. “Yes— hurry. I’m so close.”

Neteyam kept sucking and fingering you, making sure you felt every inch of his fingers and the way his lips wrapped around your pussy. “Fuck— Neteyam—”

Your eyes rolled back when you came on his tongue. Right then, he didn’t stop. He kept licking through your orgasm, making you whimper. “So hot and beautiful..”

You were shaking, pulling his hair, but still letting him lick you. “Noo, it’s….” He looked up at you with desperate eyes, lips shiny with your wetness. “Let me do it again. I missed making you feel good.”

You just sighed happily and gave in, legs trembling as he licked you thoroughly. You knew how much he loved eating you out and making you cum with his tongue, as every time you were together, he would always find a way to give you pleasure.

He was certain he could last a whole week without cumming if it meant he could eat you out from time to time.

When he noticed your legs shaking, he held your other leg and let it rest on his shoulder. Now you were fully riding his face, rolling your hips onto his tongue as he lapped at your juices.

“So wet… All this for me, right?”

You threw your head back against the tree, moaning shamelessly. “Mhmm yes…” He brought you to another orgasm, making him groan loudly against your pussy, addicted to your taste. And when you couldn’t take his tongue anymore, you removed your leg from his shoulder and pulled him up by his hair, kissing him hard and tasting yourself on his tongue.

Your pussy was still clenching and throbbing from the orgasm. You wrapped your arms around his neck as your tongue fought for dominance. He submitted to you, whimpering into your mouth as you pulled harder on his braid.

You pulled away, biting his lip while keeping your eyes on his half-lidded ones. Your lips moved down to lick his jaw, sucking on it gently. He whimpered, hands restless on your waist as you kissed your way to his ears.

When he felt your tail lashibg slowly against his legs, he reached for it and caressed it up and down. You sucked on his earlobe, making him sigh. Your hips swayed as your tail did, his own tail curling from your presence alone.

You pulled away and squeezed his cheeks. He smiled down at you. “I missed you, y/n…”

You whispered seductively against his lips. “Need you to fuck me.” You pulled his chin closer and kissed him before pushing his head to your neck so he could suck on your skin. You brought your hair to the side and turned your back to him, giving him more access while grinding your ass against him.

Neteyam groaned, licking your shoulder and grinding back against your ass, he held your waist. “Yeah? Need me to do what?” His hands guided your hips toward his aching cock.

You felt his hard length sliding against your ass. “Fuck me…” you begged before letting yourself fall onto the grass on all fours. He went down with you, squeezing your ass with both hands before smacking it hard, you hissed from the sting.

“Gonna let me fuck you raw in this forest while your new suitor prepares the clan’s feast?” he teased, making you whimper. He slid your loincloth aside and teased his tip against your hole. “He isn’t my suitor, Neteyam. We’re not together… I don’t even like—”

Your words were cut off when he licked your back, making your back arch from the sudden touch. You let your head fall onto the grass, hands fisting tightly in it. Your hips raised and rolled against his tip as his fingers rubbed your pussy.

You felt his lips pressing directly against the sensitive skin of your tail. Involuntary pleasure shot straight up your spine, causing your tail to twitch and brush eagerly against his face before you could even think to stop it. He let out a smug chuckle, “Glad to know you’re still hung up on me.”

Hot flush rushed to your cheeks as you scoffed furiously. “And are you not?” you fired back, glaring up at him from where you lay, your tail delivering a slap right against his bare chest.

“Oh, y/n… I know you know the answer to that.” He finally pushed his cock inside you slowly, watching how you took him. He threw his head back when he bottomed out, thrusting slowly to let you adjust.

Even though you had done this many times before, you still couldn’t get used to his size.

He was long and thick, fitting inside you perfectly. It felt like his cock and your pussy were made for each other. You clenched around his girth when the thought of belonging to each other crossed your mind.

Neteyam watched you thrust your hips back onto his shaft, taking your own pleasure when he wouldn’t move. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your back. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and held your hips, thrusting deep into you.

You moaned louder when he pulled your hair, making your head tilt back. He kissed your cheek. “Oh Neteyam… so big…” Your legs trembled under you as his legs straddled yours.

“Nothing to feel sorry for. I know it’s big.”

You bit your lip at his arrogance, clenching around his cock as he groaned, biting his own lip to hold back another sound while keeping his hand gripped hard on your hip, and your hair.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, “missed being inside you like this.”

You moaned uncontrollably, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts while whispering, “Neteyam… faster.”

He leaned over your back, pulling his hand away from your hair and reaching down to slide beneath your top accessories, lifting the piece to bare your breasts to the cool air while his palm massaged the soft weight of one breast, squeezing before rolling your nipple between his fingers.

You let out a gasp, your back arching into his touch as his other hand reached around to find your clit, his thumb rubbing it in tight, wet circles that had you weeping into the grass.

“Do you feel how wet you are?” he murmured, his thumb pinning your clit with pressure to make your thighs tremble before he increased the pace of his hips.

You nodded fast, whimpering a desperate yes against the dirt as he groaned again, thrusting faster while your nipples hardened under his rough fingers.

​“Want you to remember this feeling, okay? Remember exactly how you feel right now,” he said, hips driving relentlessly into you, holding you right on the edge of breaking.

You couldn’t stop the clenches around his cock, moaning his name endlessly as he buried himself deep inside you over and over. His breathing filled your ear, he then pulled his fingers from your nipple, pressing his broad palm flat against your lower back to guide your hips, his gaze locked downward as he watched himself sliding in and out of your soaking core.

“I feel so hot... everything hurts, please just fill me up…” you begged, the double stimulation of his cock filling you and his fingers working your clit making your vision blur.

You were utterly undone, his name spilling from your lips because your brain couldn’t process anything else. The universe narrowed down to this forest, the heavy weight of him, and his length rutting into you.

Neteyam groaned, his hand tightening on your hip as he slowed his thrusts to savour the tight pull of your walls, whispering, “Don’t say that, baby, or I’ll cum too fast… I don’t wanna finish yet.”

“Push deeper...”

“Kiss me…” he breathed, and you turned your head around, fisting your fingers into his braided hair to pull him down into a breathless kiss that he moaned into. “I don’t wanna stop…” he cried out against your lips, his grip on your hips tightening securely before your next words shattered his control.

“Fuck me like you missed me, Neteyam.”

Neteyam let out a loud, uncharacteristic cry, his hips snapping forward against you as he confessed, “I did miss you, so fucking much,” his thrusts turning wild and deep.

You were both breathing heavily, your bodies moving together as the risk of being heard in the forest made the friction feel bunch times more intense.

“Neteyam… I’m close again,” you moaned, and he rubbed your clit faster, demanding, “Come for me, let me feel you,” until you groaned, clenching hard around him as you came.

Neteyam bit his lip again, thrusting through your orgasm while his thumb kept heavily vibrating against your overstimulated clit, gasping, “Oh, shit… you’re squeezing me so tight, I’m g-going to cum too.”

You pushed back against him, whining, “Do it inside me,” until he collapsed against you with a trembling breath, his fingers digging into your hips as the last of his heat spilled inside you.

He leaned down to press his forehead against your back, his tail loosely uncurled on its own, letting you feel the frantic beating of his heart against your skin.

The bioluminescence on his whole body flared bright, glowing in sync with yours as you two shared the orgasm, the friction of his body leaving you done while your whimpers were swallowed by the humid night air.

When he finally moved to pull out, the slick liquid pooled down your thighs, making you shiver at the sudden loss of his cock inside you while you hissed in place, your tail curling when you felt his fingers push the cum back into your pussy.

You sighed as your top accessories fell back into place, covering your flushed chest. He then caught your jaw, tilting your head up to press a lingering kiss to your lips while murmuring sweet words to you, both of you staying like that for a moment before you finally collapsed into the grass, breathing hard.

He lay beside you, pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks until your breathing finally regained. The moment you sat up, he did the same, his worried eyes never leaving your face. He watched as you reached for your discarded loincloth, he took a hold of your forearm before you could stand. “Let me help you.”

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you gathered your things. “It’s alright,” you whispered. “I’ll take care of myself.”

“Y/n, please. Let me make this up to you. Let me fight for us…” His shoulders fell, before standing to adjust his loincloth around his hips, dragging a hand across his face, wiping away the tears he had failed to hide.

“Neteyam, clean yourself up.”

“Forgive me, baby...” he whispered, guilt can be heard in his voice, he’s regretting how everything had unfolded, pulling you into a sex session right after the guy who obviously had feelings for you just left, and especially after you had tried so hard to push him away.

You turned back to him, cupping his cheeks with both hands. Pressing a gentle kiss on his cheeks, you lingered for only a heartbeat before letting your hands fall away, the faint smile on your face disappearing.

“I’ll leave first. Follow after me... and don’t let yourself get caught, okay?”

-

After that, the two of you returned to pretending the other didn’t exist. It was easier that way anyway. At least, it kept suspicious eyes away from the truth the two of you had worked so hard to hide.

By the time you got home, your family had already begun the evening meal. It wasn’t long before Eykxan arrived at your family’s place as well, sending you an apology for leaving you alone in the forest.

Your mother scowled, questioning why the two of you had been alone in the first place, then turned to Eykxan and asked why he had left a lady on her own.

He mentioned having duties to attend to and couldn’t escort you back himself, though he insisted he had left you in the care of a trustworthy man. Your mother’s expression didn’t change, nearly growing angry at the thought of you being left alone with another male, until you intervened to calm her.

You assured her that everything had been perfectly fine, explaining that the Olo’eyktan’s eldest son had personally accompanied you safely back to the heart of the village.

As you inspected your pouches for any danages, the curtain was suddenly thrown back wherein an energetic voice pierced the atmosphere.

“You’re blooming, Y/n!”

You snapped your head toward the entrance, watching your friends stroll in with a trader’s bag slung over their shoulder.

“Did my brother finally make his move on you?” Ayrein teased, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “I mean, not that I would wanna hear the details of how he—”

“No, Ayrein,” you cut, shutting down the topic. The last thing your heart could handle right now was discussing men. You pointed a finger at the bundle in her hands. “What’s that?”

“We only hope we’re not disturbing you, but the sky-traders arrived at the outer camp earlier, and we managed to get some supplies for you.” Teyanä said, stepping forward and pointing to the bag.

“They arrived?!” you gasped.

“...Yes?” Ayrein blinked, exchanging a confused look with Teyanä. “Did you not hear the horns blowing across the canopy?”

“No!” Panic flared in your chest as you wiped your stained hands frantically on a cloth. “I didn’t hear anything. I needed to trade something to them before they packed up and headed back to the base.”

Teyanä sets the heavy woven bag down on your mat with a thud. “Well, you better hurry if it’s that urgent. They usually only stay by the lower platforms for a few hours to trade medicine and tools with the warriors.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You had been so completely lost in the memory of… him.

You cursed under your breath, quickening your pace toward the lower forest platforms where the late sky-traders usually set up camp.

Occasionally, you bowed your head to the passing elders who acknowledged your presence with nods, though your mind remained completely preoccupied.

Your eyes drifted down toward the Tlalim airships, where several people stood talking with the others and examining the newly brought offerings.

Taking another step forward, your heart suddenly dropped as your eyes widened at the sight unfolding just a short distance away.

Huh…

You spotted Neteyam’s broad back as he placed a beaded necklace around Reyna’lin’s neck, her hands resting on his biceps as she smiled up at him. The moment her gaze clashed with yours, her smirk widened maliciously as she stepped closer into his space, her body disappearing behind his large frame.

From your angle, all you could see was her head tilting and leaning deeply into his, making it look exactly like they were sharing something intimate that you wouldn’t even dare name.

Nausea surged through you, forcing you to avert your eyes instantly as you spun on your heel, abandoning the trading tents to head back toward your kelku.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat, your pulse throbbing painfully against your skin as you practically sprinted away from the scene.

You completely forgot about the items you had intended to trade, the vivid image of Reyna’lin’s triumphant grin before she leaned into Neteyam burned into your mind.

Hoeever, you tried to tell yourself you had no right to feel this shattered, especially since the council had already decreed their future together as leaders of the clan.

Yet, your heart still ached, ruined by the memory of his desperate confessions in the forest only days prior.

He had held you oh so tight, whispering about his undying love and how desperately he missed you, but now it all felt like a sickening lie.

You had never wanted to think of Neteyam this way, but the harsh reality staring you in the face proved he was likely just after your body.

The realization cut deeper than any physical wound, leaving you entirely hollowed out as you retreated into the shadows of the village.

“Oh my! Why are you crying, Y/n?!” Ayrein gasped, her eyes widening as she took in your flushed nose and trembling lips.

“I… I didn’t see them,” you lied, wiping away the hot tears you hadn’t even realized were falling until she pointed them out.

“It must’ve been that important for you to be crying over missing them,” Teyanä noted, crossing her arms before offering a reassuring shrug. “Don’t worry, they return by the next moon.”

Don’t worry…

It was the phrase you kept repeating to yourself like a hollow mantra, though it did nothing to stop the heavy grumpiness that took over you for the rest of the weeks. You intentionally pulled away from the village life, determined to avoid drawing any sort of interaction from anyone around you.

Your mornings were consumed by helping Mo’at prepare the winter poultices. You successfully avoided Neteyam, and whenever your paths did cross near the communal fires, you made sure your gaze never lingered on his face for more than a millisecond.

While avoiding most people had been easy, Eykxan had practically integrated himself into your daily life.

He constantly brought early meals to your family, laughed along with your father’s jokes, and brought fine fabrics for your beloved mother to gain her favor. He also saved the best cuts of roasted meat specifically for you, making sure your bowl was full before anyone else’s.

Eykxan had been there during the weeks when you were drained, noticing your sour mood and constantly bringing you flowers alongside neatly leaf-wrapped meals.

You wouldn’t really admit, but having an accompanist was exactly what you needed to silence the aching noise of heartbreak inside your chest.

You were currently sitting by the lower riverbanks, scrubbing the sticky residue of crushed herbs from your wooden medicine bowls. Then a shadow suddenly fell over you as the person slid down onto the mossy rock, its fingers brushing your jaw to tilt your face up.

Your entire body went rigid as you slapped his hand away with irritation, “Eykxan… you startled me.”

“You wouldn’t be so jumpy if you actually welcomed my presence, pretty,” he replied, shrugging with a grin that made your eye twitch before he let out a low chuckle.

He attempted to flirtatiously invite you to a secret meeting spot in the forest, claiming it is both of your spot away from the noise of the village. When you point out that you don’t actually share a spot tofether, he got a bit clumsy with his words before giving up and promising to just come and get you later.

You informed your friends that you wouldn’t be able to join them for dinner because Eykxan had asked you to meet him. They just giggled at your explanation, then began swarming you to help you get ready instead.

Soon enough, you were on your way into the forest with your hair unbraided, your friends had put in colorful decorations and hairpins to brighten your strands.

He had indeed come to you to fetch you, presenting you with yet another flower alongside a leaf-wrapped bundle of your favorite food. Throughout the entire walk, he made sure to guide your steps, keeping his hand resting against your waist.

You finally arrived at a secluded clearing near the lake that he claimed as your shared spot, even though you had never been here with him before. You simply ignored the comment as he spread a mat over the grass, taking a seat beside him as the two of you began to talk, slowly getting to know one another.

The conversation went from village gossip to your personal life, his questions gradually becoming more invasive as the twilight deepened around the lake.

“I mean, I’ve been courting you for almost two months now, Y/n, the least you could do is tell me about your past experiences. Surely a beauty like you had suitors.” he said, leaning back on his arms.

“I told you the answer already.”

“There’s just no way you don’t. Your parents are incredibly easy to please, especialy your father! Just tell me who else walked into your life and had him giving his blessing to court you in just a matter of weeks? I literally charmed him,” he grinned to himself, making you look at him offended.

“What did you say?”

“I said it’s easy to trick your father, it’s just your mother that’s stopping me from going full out on you. She’s so unnecessarily strict like? As if I’m going to impregnate you the second we’re alone. No offense, y/n, but how pathetic it is that she won’t let you be with the finest cook of the clan unless you sneak out,” he rolled his eyes.

“That’s because she cares about me, Eykxan. And you’re not courting me. I never gave you permission to,” you said, sitting up straight before he matched your stance, his expression hardening.

“What do you mean? I’ve been giving you a taste of what it feels like to be fed by the best in the clan. I have done nothing but show you the kind of life you’ll have as my mate. No other man can give you that, y/n.”

“You… never asked me to.”

“I don’t have to, that’s expected. The things I did for you, do you want me to count them?”

“Eykxan, please—”

He raised a hand, ticking his fingers one by one in your face. “One, I mend your father’s hunting gear, a difficult task for a weapon that was about to fail him by the way, yet I did everything to fix it. Two, I give your mother the rarest weaving fabrics, the ones you would never obtain easily unless the sky-traders came and you offered your own blood, you should know I have my connections. Three, I prepare the most exquisite meals specifically for your bowl, ensuring your whole family eats like royalty... Do you know how many women in this village wish they had someone like me providing for them every day? What even is courting for you?”

He leaned into your face, prompting you to scramble up from the mat, though he rose just as fast to loom over you. “Eykxan, I appreciate everything you do for us, you know that. I’ve always told you how grateful I am, but that’s not you courting me because I haven’t given you permission.”

“Your father did. He explicitly told me that he would be the happiest to have me as his son-in-law,” he said, stepping closer until you were forced to take a step back.

You moved uncomfortably at his suffocating closeness. “That’s… my father. My mother didn’t agree to anything, nor does she know about this. I didn’t even know your intentions were like this—”

He scoffed, “Are you serious? You’re telling me I made all those sacrifices of risking getting caught reserving the best meat and neglecting my own kitchen duties just for a woman who claims she did not know? You must be completely stupid to think a male of my status does all that for free!” He suddenly shoved your shoulder, the force making you stumble hard against the massive tree trunk behind you.

“Eykxan, t-that’s not—”

“You know what I learned while humbling myself to feed you and your family, Y/n? I learned that you’re nothing but a selfish, ungrateful woman who’s hungry for attention,” he stated, his gaze dropping to your lips as he stepped into your space, his hand caging you against the tree.

You swallowed hard, your left eye twitching as his eyebrows furrowed, your heart stuttering at the sudden toxicity rolling off him.

“Just so you know, I turned down two of the finest women who wished to court me this season. All because I chose to be loyal and waste my time on you. And yet you play the victim, refusing to let me get a single taste of what I’ve rightfully earned.”

You flinched violently when his hand clamped around your wrist like a vice. “E-Eykxan, I demand— it hurts—”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic, princess. It doesn’t hurt,” he dismissed sharply, tightening his grip as he leaned in until his breath hit your cheek. “Yoi’re the one hurting me. You won’t even let me touch you, acting like you’re too innocent for the best male in your circle. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to cater to you while you give me nothing in return? You’re going to start showing me the respect I deserve, starting right now.”

“Let go... please,” you whispered, tears of frustration stinging your eyes as you tried to pull away, but he only pressed his weight heavier against your body.

“She said let go.”

His body went stiff, jaw tightening as he turned his head toward the darkness where Neteyam stepped into the moonlight, his yellow eyes pinned onto Eykxan’s hand around your bruised wrist. He removed his hand and knees from you, making you release the breath you were holding.

Eykxan chuckled, raising his hands and facing him, blocking you from the elder son. “Don’t worry, my girl and I were just doing—”

“Did you not hear what she said?”

“Huh?”

“She said let go.”

Eykxan shifted his weight, still shielding you away from the warrior. “Sir, I don’t think you understand, she and I agreed to meet here, her father already gave me his—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Neteyam moved with the lethal speed of a viper. He stepped into Eykxan’s personal space, his hand clamping around the front of Eykxan’s neck with enough force to cut off his breath instantly, slamming him back against the tree, making you gasp.

“I do not care what her father said,” Neteyam hissed, his face inches from Eykxan’s as his ears pinned flat against his head in pure aggression. “If someone tells you to stop, you stop. If I see your face near her again, I’ll personally ensure you never step foot in the communal kitchens again. Now, get out of my sight before I forget my position.”

You covered your mouth, watching the boy sprint back toward the village while clutching his throat. You let your knees collapse down the grass, letting out a breath, the release of tension making you give out.

Neteyam was by your side by then, dropping to his knees and grasping your shoulders. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

Wiping the cold sweat from your forehead, you forced yourself up and shoved his arms away. You turned to walk back to the village, but he stepped into your path, blocking your escape. Your gaze snapped up to his, your pulse still racing. “Move.”

He shook his head, looking down at your troubled face with deep concern. You inhaled and tried to step around him, but he matched your movement, making you glare at him in pure frustration.

“Didnt you hear what I said—”

“I’m not moving until you speak to me.”

“There’s nothing for us to speak about,” you stated, twisting your arm to break his touch.

“There is. The fact that you have cast me aside for months… what’s the meaning of that?”

You let out a harsh scoff, your hair swinging over your shoulder. “Maybe the fact that you’re to be spoken for, and I refuse to stand between a future Olo’eyktan and his chosen woman?”

“What are you saying?” He raised an eyebrow, and his clueless expression only fueled your anger. “Stop tormenting me,” you snapped, attempting to push past him only to collide directly with his broad chest. “I said stop—”

“You always do this, you close yourself off and tell me nothing. How am I supposed to fix us if you won’t even let me—”

“There’s no us, Neteyam! Understand that. There’s no us now, nor will there be in the future. Everything we had, I left in the past along with your empty promises, so I suggest you—”

He seized your arm again, desperation bleeding into his features. “Why must you make things so difficult for us?”

Your eyes widened at his words, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you stepped into his space, your voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You mean, why must you always be the perfect son?”

His jaw slackened, his pupils contracting as the words hit him. He blinked, his mouth opening and closing before he could barely utter, “...What?”

“I believed you, Neteyam. When you swore you would fight for us, I trusted you. I never forced your hand because I believed you would protect our dream.”

Tears finally spilled over your eyelashes, your bioluminescent dots flaring in the dim forest light. He stood frozen, swallowing hard as he let you pour out your agony.

“y/n…”

“...I doubt you know how deeply ashamed I feel whenever our people praise your devotion as her suitor.” The suppressed rage of the past months finally broke free, spilling out of you unchecked.

His eyes widened in horror as the weight of your words crashed down on him, but before he could speak, you pressed on.

“When you told me you dreamed of mating with me under the Tree of Souls and raising a family... you have no idea the joy that brought me.”

He stood completely paralyzed, his heart shattering into pieces as he watched the tears stream down your face. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to wipe away your sorrow and hold you against his chest, but your next words anchored him to the spot.

“The day you pulled me away from that starving creature and looked me in the eyes, my soul knew yours before my mind ever could. I saw my future there. I saw my husband... the father of my children. I knew that vision by heart, that’s why I risked a lot.

Every dream I ever dared to have had you in it. Every prayer I whispered to Eywa carried your name. I loved you long before I ever found the courage to say it aloud, and even before I knew your name.

But you’re just sooo perfect, aren’t you? So perfect that I kept wondering what someone like you ever saw in someone like me. I suppose that’s why I could never understand how we fit together. I should’ve known there was always going to be something wrong.

You’re the man every child looks up to. The one who never disappoints his father. You carry the weight of your clan so proudly, yet the moment it’s us standing before you, you set me down first.”

You didn’t fail to notice the way he swallowed hard, his eyes trembling as tears gathered along his lash line. His lips had flattened into a tight line, fighting to keep his composure, yet you couldn’t waste this moment without telling him what had been haunting your mind.

“You’re the finest warrior Omatikaya has ever known. But when it comes to us... You’re nothing more than a coward, Neteyam.”

Finally, you sniffled, turning your head away as your trembling lips pressed together. You wiped your tears, refusing to look at him. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the tears you knew were already slipping down his cheeks because of the words you had just spoken.

You never imagined you would say them to him. Not before, and certainly not now. If there was ever a future where those words left your lips again, you hoped it would never come.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, but his hand clamped around yours, pulling more tears from your eyes. “Let go, please..."

“You won’t give me a chance to talk?”

“No. I have a trial with the Tsahik at dawn and I must rest. If you have words to say, swallow them for I’m no longer listening.”

“Please... you know our ways better than anyone. I cannot— I must not—”

You whirled around, wrenching your wrist from his grasp. “When you spoke to Eykxan and told him that when someone says to stop, you stop. So now, I’m telling you this: Stop approaching me. Stop looking for a past that’s dead. From this sun down, Neteyam… we are nothing but strangers.”

Sleep didn’t come easily after that.

You spent the entire night muffling your sobs against your sleeping mat, your chest tightening as you struggled to catch your breath, tears streaming endlessly until you were exhausted from weeping.

The next morning, Mo’at noticed the way your eyes were swollen and heavy, but she made no remark on that state.

On the other hand, Neteyam was no better. She didn’t fail to see the lack of motivation in her grandson. But he still moved with that lifeless gait during his regular perimeter patrols, flying his ikran on scouting missions and checking the borders for any signs of the sky people, doing it all with no rests, tiring his banshee.

It was obvious to the Tsahik that he was desperately seeking extra duties and more duties to keep his hands occupied.

Whenever he returned from the dangerous hunts, he would hand the heavy tools and gathered goods over to the village cooks, giving a polite bow to the elders before retreating right back to his tasks.

Lo’ak had to constantly shake his older brother awake, as Neteyam no longer resembled the Olo’eyktan’s proud first son. He stopped smiling, barely touching his meals, and his mind wandered so badly during patrols that the other people with him literally had to yank him out of the path of a charging viperwolf.

His skin looked dull, the bioluminescent dots on his body barely glowing in the dark, and his tail trailed limply along the ground, while his ears drooped to express his misery.

Neteyam had been sinking into a place so dark that even hope struggled to reach him, your words from that night in the forest echoing louder than anything else, along with all the ones he never had the chance to say.

Your teary stained face haunted his thoughts, tormenting him from the moment he woke up until he tried to sleep. Your voice replayed in his mind, each word striking him just as painfully as it had the night you said them.

Reyna’lin practically had to force him out of his state, dragging him across the village grounds while leaning closely into his arm as she rattled on about their plans for the day. She tried her absolutw best to cheer him up, bringing him along to gather resources and whispering sweet things, but every single attempt failed.

He just allowed her to drag him along through the high forest canopy, following her across the massive branches to hunt and test his skills once again, yet no amount of physical distraction could fill the void inside him.

He went through each day like a puppet, for no duty nor pastime could soothe his aching heart the way your presence once did.

“You’ve been lazing around…”

Reyna’lin said, rubbing her hands on Neteyam’s lap. He just looked down from the tree, the two of them sitting 50 ft above the ground on one of the thick branches.

Reyna’lin held his cheeks, caressing them. “Would you ever tell me what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?” Neteyam nodded, not really listening to her words, his mind was somewhere else.

She leaned up and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, trying to get some reaction from her future mate. He didn’t pull away, nor did he lean into it. His body stayed numb as his eyes stared blankly past her shoulder.

Reyna’lin straddled his legs, taking his hands and placing them on her waist. She held his jaw and turned his head so she could kiss his neck. Neteyam’s hands just rested there, not moving at all.

His heart felt like it was breaking again. His ears stayed pinned back, tail not moving. His eyes were half-lidded, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep. He could barely hear her whispering seductively in his ear, her breath hot against his skin.

She guided his left hand up to the side of her breast, humping slowly against his leg, looking for any friction as she kissed his neck again. Neteyam stayed completely still, not responding to any of her touches.

Reyna’lin kept going, pressing her body closer and whispering more desperate things into his ear as she tried to force a spark from him. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her hands tangling into his braids, sighing and begging his body to acknowledge her.

He just let his head fall back against the tree, staring up through the canopy at the distant stars with unblinking eyes. His hands remained limp where she had placed them, refusing to grip her, refusing to push her away, detached from the skin-to-skin contact.

Her movements grew more desperate until the whole lack of warmth from him became too loud to ignore. Slowing down, she pulled back from his neck and cupped his jaw, leaning in to finally connect her lips to his.

He could feel her warm breath brushing across his skin, causing his eye to twitch, but just before their lips could meet, she stopped herself. Pulling back to examine his face, she saw what he was trying so hard to hide.

She let out a low groan of frustration, shifting so she was simply sitting between his legs rather than straddling him, her hands dropping heavily into her own lap. She watched as a tear spilled over his eyelashes and rolled down his cheek, He looked away into the dark canopy as he sniffled to himself.

“Just spit it out, Neteyam.”

-

Weeks later, you managed to stay far away from both males after that night, as the ordeal had took the soul right out of you. The news of the incident traveled its way to the Olo’eyktan’s ears, and he immediately sent Eykxan out on a grueling, solitary hunt so he could reflect on the gravity of what he had done.

Your friends also found out what happened, and a devastated Ayrein went down to her knees to bow before you and your parents, sobbing as she begged for your forgiveness. She felt responsible for the mess, since she was the one who had insisted on pairing you up with her brother.

Relief washed over you when Jake decided to keep the issue confidential between your two families, making sure rhat no gossip would ruin anyone’s standing. You didn’t want to bring shame upon his family, especially since your best friend was only trying to help you experience life beyond your family’s expectaions.

“I told you it’s alright, please don’t drown in your guilt,” you murmured, chuckling as you tried to pull away from her tight embrace.

She shook her head, her hands still trembling against your shoulders as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “No, y/n, I have all of you to thank for being so merciful… for not demanding my brother be locked away in the dungeons or shamed before the clan! You’re far too considerate, and you truly deserve nothing less than a proud warrior who gives you everything!”

Teyanä suddenly stepped forward and pinched Ayrein’s skin to silence her, her own tail flicking with sharp annoyance. “Hey, stop speaking of mates right now! That’s the exact reason why y/n was almost harassed! I now understand why auntie was so against this pairing from the very beginning!”

Ayrein pulled back, resting her hands on your shoulders as her eyes searched yours. “I’m just really glad that Neteyam was there to come to your rescue. I cant even imagine what could’ve happened otherwise…” she murmured with a deep frown.

You swallowed hard against a dry throat at the very mention of his name, a wave of heavy realization washing over you. You were grateful too, but you realized that you hadn’t even gotten to properly thank him that night, giving him nothing but a cold shoulder and harsh words when he was desperately just trying to communicate with you.

A sense of shame settled in your chest, knowing he always seemed to appear right when you needed saving, yet whenever he asked for just a moment of your time, you couldnt give it.

“Me too, y/n. we’re both so sorry for forcing you into this whole mess,” Teyanä sighed, stepping closer to pat the top of your head.

You shook your head, wanting to ease their guilt. “Id admit, a part of me had been curious to see what would happen if he kept this up. But there was another part that just knew something was off about him. Sorry, sister, for my soul didn’t see him.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, y/n,” Ayrein interrupted, squeezing your shoulders. “It’s all my fault for not taking the time to ask how you two were doing, I just assumed the best and thought my… brother was conducting a proper courting. I must apologize as well for making so many inappropriate jokes, I definitely made you uncomfortable.”

Your friends made sure you forgot all your negative thoughts, dragging you along with them down to the river for a swim. The water was cold, feeling incredible as the three of you sat with your backs to the rushing falls, letting the heavy pressure of the cascading water give you a free massage.

They even left their boyfriends behind for the time being, abandoning their usual day in a life just so they could protect your peace and hang out with you for the next few weeks.

Mo’at also made sure to avoid overworking you, going noticeably easy on you during your recent training sessions to give your spirit time to heal. She purposely assigned you lighter tasks, allowing you to focus on guiding the younger apprentices while she took full charge of leading the daily rituals for the clan.

You bid farewell to the young girls, sending them out after they hugged, and thanked you for the lessons today. Your heart felt full of warmth from their pure cuteness, bringing a genuine smile to your face.

You then began cleaning the Tsahik’s hut, clearing the tables and mats the children had used for the class before picking up the leftover materials to store them away safely.

Humming while washing the wooden cups and bowls was your usual hobby, but the melody died down when a rush of heavy, panicked footsteps echoed right outside the entrance.

“C’mon!”

“Over there!”

You dropped your cleaning cloth and yanked open the curtain, stepping back to let the frantic warriors carry someone inside. There were too many of them crowding around, blocking your view of the injured hunter as they rushed toward the medical mats.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, approaching the group as they laid the body down onto the soft mattress. The warrior closest to you turned, out of breath as he explained, “We need Tsahik… he fell from a very dangerous height.”

“Who is—”

Your voice caught as your eyes finally tracked down to the unconscious male covered in cuts and bruises, your lungs seizing up when you realized it was none other than Neteyam.

You shoved the males out of your way, kneeling beside him to look at his wounds while demanding a report. “What happened?!”

“W-We were assigned to the afternoon patrol at the high cliffs, but we didn’t realize he had drank some of the heavy ceremonial wine from today’s ritual,” the lead warrior admitted guiltily, his tail twitching.

“We only caught the scent of it once we were high up, and before we could ask, he fainted, lost his balance, startled his ikran, and plummeted straight down.”

You let out a gasp, your heart hammering against your ribs as you scrambled up to gather your emergency herbs. One of them added, “It was fortunate that he landed directly on the huge leaves… it absorbed the momentum and saved his life…”

“Fortunate?!” A hiss ripped from your throat, your ears pinning flat against your head as you glared at the reckless patrol team. “Get out of here! Go find Tsahik!” you snarled, enraged that they hadn’t even bothered to check on their fellow warrior before taking to the sky, knowing damn well he could’ve died if those giant canopy leaves hadn’t caught his fall.

When all of the warriors finally left, you pressed your palm against Neteyam’s forehead and then his neck, checking for his temperature. You turned his palm upward, placing your fingers on the thumb side of his wrist to gauge his pulse, counting the rhythm of his heartbeat.

You let out a sigh when you realized his vitals were stable, turning away to sit on the floor and begin grinding the healing herbs together. Your hands suddenly froze when a painful groan cut through the room, causing you to look back over your shoulder.

He began to sob, bringing a trembling hand up to clutch his head before shifting his entire forearm to cover his eyes. You felt the ache in your chest at the rare sight of him breaking down, his broad shoulders shaking with every ragged breath.

“Y/n…”

Your heart dropped at the vulnerable sound of him calling out your name beneath his arm. Quickly finishing the herbal paste, you crawled back over and sat beside him, gently reaching down to rub his tear-stained cheek. “Shhh…”

He didn’t take his arm off his face, sobbing even louder than before as he gasped for air. “I… I need to see y/n… Please bring me to her…” Your eyes widened, his body tensing up when you tried to pull his arm away. “Hey,” you whispered.

“Don’t— Don’t touch me, please… I don’t want anyone touching me but her,” he choked out, entirely blind to his surroundings.

“Neteyam, I’m here…” you said, finally prying his arm away from his face. He squinted hard against the light, his swollen yellow eyes blinking rapidly until they locked onto your worried face and the deep frown on your lips.

A smile broke through his tears before he abruptly bolted upright, startling you. “Y-you have to lay down before you hurt yourself—”

Neteyam threw himself onto your lap, crashing onto his knees right in front of you as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, burying his face against your skin to inhale your scent. He kept weeping against you, throwing you shock as you watched him ignore his fresh wounds just to jail you in his embrace.

“Y/n, forgive me please!” he cried out, squeezing you tighter against his chest. Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard. “Stop it… you have to lay down!” You desperately tried to peel his arms off your waist, scrambling to your feet the second you broke his grip, but he immediately shifted and wrapped his arms around your thighs instead.

“Please… talk to me…” he begged, his ears pinning completely flat against his head in sheer desperation as he locked his hold around your legs. Your tail lashed violently from side to side in frustration. “Hey! Stand up right now—”

He didn’t listen, dragging his heavily bruised body forward across the mat, nearly causing you to stumble before you caught your weight. He looked pathetic, completely broken down by grief as he clutched the fabric of your loincloth, burying his wet face directly into your lap while his broad shoulders shook.

“I can’t do it… I can’t live without you— I’m so sorry... I’m a coward, you were right... I’m such a coward man.”

“You need to calm down! Your wounds are terrible, you’re not sober, and Mo’at might walk in at any moment!” you pleaded, placing your hands over his trembling shoulders to push him back. Instead, he pulled your hands down, gripping your wrists with a strength to press your palms flat against his wet cheeks before forcing himself to look up at you.

He was begging so hard he could barely catch his breath. “Let her see. I don’t care anymore. Y/n... I cannot do this, I cannot sleep… every time I close my eyes, I just hear you yelling at me and I see the look on your face.”

Your heart twisted in your chest, the anger you had carried for days now smothered by a wave of pure sorrow.

Your warrior was a mess.

You forced yourself to look away from his gaze, your eyes darting anxiously toward the entrance of the pod as you waited for the Tsahik to return.

“Please… look at me...” he whispered, “I’ll crawl through the mud for you, y/n. Just please don’t look at me like I’m nothing to you…”

“What’s going on here?”

Your eyes went to the entrance as Mo’at pulled back the curtain, her gaze taking in the sight of you gripping Neteyam’s cheeks while he’s on his knees before you. He didn’t even look back at his grandmother, ignoring her presence as he waited for you to meet his eyes again.

“He—uhm…” You swallowed hard, the words dying in your throat as you struggled to find an explanation before she stepped closer, then took her grandson’s arms away from your thighs and forced his weak body down onto the medical mattress.

“Hand me the herbs.”

Your feet stuttered over the woven mats as you retrieved the wooden bowl you had been mixing earlier, avoiding Neteyam’s longing eyes. “Sorry…” you mumbled, hands trembling, giving the remedy.

“You will tell me what’s happening here, y/n,” Mo’at spoke, her eyes locking onto you as she began to assess his injuries. “Why was my grandson on his knees?”

You inhaled, looking down at your lap as you prepared to speak, but Neteyam cut in before you could even form a syllable. “I’m in love with her.”

Your eyes widened, snapping up to look at him as he stared right back at you. His skin twitched in pain as Mo’at applied the stinging herbal paste to his wounds, but he didn’t care, making your heart beat fast in your chest as he continued.

“I have longed for y/n for so long, and I cannot… I will not walk the path with anyone else, grandmother,” Neteyam whimpered, he refused to break eye contact with you.

“Y/n?”

Finding it incredibly difficult to speak under the weight of her presence, you cleared your dry throat. “We… we were walking together in secret before, but I took matters into my own hands and severed our relationship so that… he could fulfill his duty to the clan,” you whispered, a hot blush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks as you confessed your forbidden love to the highest authority.

“Y/n, I—”

Neteyam opened his mouth to protest, but he was suddenly pinched by Mo’at, forcing him to shut up as she looked up at you. “And how does all of that make you feel?”

“What… what do you mean, Tsahik?”

“Do you want him to fulfill his duty to the clan?” she asked directly, the blunt question making your chest tighten as you looked down at the woven mats, entirely unwilling to give a straight answer while Neteyam sat right there, desperately waiting for your words.

“It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that I... wouldn’t wish for him to do such a thing... though I cannot exactly deny that I wouldn’t be opposed to the possibility of wanting him to. But should that ever happen, I’d wish that it be of his own choosing, rather than the consequence of any wish I may... or may not... have held.”

Neteyam tilted his head, his ears twitching in confusion as he tried to understand your words. His bruised brow knitted together as he looked from you to his grandmother, wonderjng whether the wine had finally gone to his head because not a single sentence you uttered seemed to make sense anymore.

Mo’at let out a hum, her eyes softening as she soon realized and saw right through your protective walls while her grandson remained baffled.

“What do you mean—” Neteyam began, before he was cut off by a hard smack from Mo’at.

“You brought this upon yourself, child, you knew very well that you had a patrol this afternoon, yet you allowed yourself to get drunk,” she scolded, “What kind of warrior are you behaving like, and what would your father say if he saw you right now? You had best be glad I ordered your patrol members to keep this foolishness away from Jake or you would be facing much worse than my medicine.”

He winced, scratching the back of his neck as he muttered an apology and looked down at his lap, thoroughly ashamed to be getting lectured like a child right in front of you.

Both of your hearts were still thumping wildly against your chest. Is this it? Out of all the people in the clan who could’ve discovered the secret between the two of you, it had to be the Tsahik herself.

Later that night, Mo’at instructed you to stay and watch over Neteyam, who had fallen into a deep, heavy sleep mostly due to the effects of the wine, informing you that she had urgent business elsewhere in the camp.

Before she could step out, you asked her to keep your secret safe, and she gave you a nod, saying that your truth was not hers to tell before patting your shoulder.

Left alone with your racing thoughts, you sat just outside the entrance, peeling the fibrous veins from a basket of medicinal leaves to keep your hands from shaking.

“Hey.”

You snapped your head up from your work, not having heard a single footstep approach, only to find Reyna’lin standing before you with a wave and a smile. “Is Neteyam inside?” she asked, her fingers pointing toward the curtained entrance.

You straightened your posture, a tight knot forming in your body as you gave her a nod. “Yes, he’s asleep though, but you may go inside.”

She nodded and went inside, leaving you alone with your thoughts again, as a pit formed in your stomach.

Of course she would visit her future mate.

Check on him.

Make sure he was alright.

You shook your head, swallowing the bitterness that threatened to surface. Out of everything, you refused to resent her for worrying about the man who was, by all accounts, meant to become her husband, even if a part of you still wondered whether Neteyam’s heart belonged to you too.

You let the frown stay on your face though as you resumed peeling the leaves and putting them in the bowl for tomorrow’s children’s lesson.

“Y/n?”

You looked up and saw her leaning against the wood before she approached and sat down beside you, purposely bumping your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I suppose we haven’t had a proper meeting. I was such a bitch for some reason, so… sorry for that,” she said, pointing to herself with a grin.

You nodded. “It’s alright. I didn’t really... mind.”

“Well, that’s good to know, because next week me and Neteyam are to be mated under the Tree of Souls, before Eywa…” her voice trailed off as she looked at you. She saw the way you swallowed hard.

Then she burst into laughter.

You looked at her, confused. “What?” Reyna’lin wiped her eyes, still smiling. “I’m kidding! We’re absolutely not gonna be mated!”

Your eyes widened. “...What?”

“Oh please, cut it out, girl. I know you have a thing for him. Not even a thing, let’s be real. Who knows, you could be carrying his child already for how many times he has sneaked you out and fucked you!”

Rhe free way she spoke had a hot blush burning purple across your cheeks, your mind racing as you wondered how she could possibly know any of that. Did he actually tell her that?

“There’s no life growing inside me! We didn’t even mate.”

“Yet!”

Seeing your stunned silence, she finally let out a sigh, clearing her throat as she leaned her head dangerously close to yours. You instinctively flinched away, but she only gave a knowing smirk.

“He told me. Everything.”

-

“Just spit it out, Neteyam.”

He didn’t look at her, keeping his head turned away. He inhaled a deep breath, letting another tear slip down his cheek before he finally spoke. “I’m already in love with someone else.”

He expected her to gasp or slap him across the face evem but she only stared at him. “It’s the healer girl, isn’t it?” she asked, making Neteyam snap his gaze toward her.

“She isn’t just some healer; her name is y/n, and she saved my life. She’s the love of my life, so I cannot do this, and I absolutely won’t.”

He braced himself for her to scream and run straight to his parents to ruin his reputation, but insteaf, he watched her stand up, then flinching when she suddenly clapped her hands together and let out a cheer.

A massive, satisfied smirk spread across her face as she let out a happy groan, throwing her hands in the air “Greatmother, thank you!” she exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on her feet.

Neteyam blinked, “...huh?”

She rolled her eyes at him, her smirk only growing wider. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it has been acting like some lovesick maiden? Man, I’ve been waiting for weeks for you to finally grow a spine and refuse this arrangement.”

Hs was stunned. “...you’re not mad at me?”

Reyna’lin scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she asked why she would be mad. “Unlike you, I’m not some girl born with privilege, meaning I cannot just walk up to the council of elders and tell them ‘hell nah’ without bringing shame upon my family. I needed your ass to do it for me, ‘coz you have the bloodline.”

“Sorry…”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Why are you apologizing for loving this girl?”

“I’m not apologizing for loving her, I’m apologizing for wasting your time.”

“Oh then, apology accepted!” she grinned, though her expression changed when she noticed he was still frowning deeply. “What are your plans then? Isn‘t that chick expected to be with someone else now? She could’ve already fallen for the cook before your jealous ass interrupted their so-called date.”

“That wasn’t a date, he was harassing her,” he said, “And I… I don’t want that. I don’t want her to fall for someone else… I want her to keep thinking about me, even after I return to Eywa… I don’t want her to fulfill our dream with someone else…” he cried out pitifully.

-

“—And I stared at him with wholeee disgust, I didn’t know the mighty warrior could get any more pathethic than that!”

You stared at her in pure shock, your mind spinning as you tried to process the wildly unexpected story she was telling.

“Oh by the way, sooo sorry too for almost initiating sex with him,” Reyna’lin said, giggled. “I was getting so bummed out that he wasn’t doing anything with that position of his! I had to rile him up… and you too, heh.” She winked at you. “Remember the day when the sky-traders were here? I made it look like I was leaning in to kiss him, when in reality I blew on his eyes because he was glaring like he was angry at me. We cannot let the elders see that, right?”

She laughed. “and before you panic, I threatened him to put the necklace on me.”

You stared at her, jaw slack as your mind scrambled to piece together the whirlwind of information. Reyna’lin leaned back, looking satisfied with herself. She was really talkative... you found yourself struggling to keep up with the pace of her words, your mind chasing after the details as she spoke far too fast for a mind already burdened with heartache to fully comprehend.

“I’m gonna be honest with you… I can’t imagine the depression I put you through! I mean, your man was in deep, girl. He must love that pussy of yours so much to not even give this huntress a chance to prove herself! I’m kidding by the way if you couldn’t tell.”

Earlier that day, you had fallen asleep on the woven floor mats that night, collapsing from exhaustion after changing his bindings and watching the rise and fall of his chest.

As the early morning light began to filter, you woke to the sensation of a large hand stroking your hair. You opened your eyes, and looked up to find Neteyam staring down at you with a stupid smile plastered across his face.

You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as your ears twitched in relief. “You’re awake…” you whispered.

“I am,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from sleep.

You nodded before standing up to tend to your morning routine. After washing your face with fresh water, you popped a crisp mint-leaf into your mouth, chewing on it to freshen your breath before gathering the freshly crushed herbs from yesterday. Settling yourself back down on the mat beside him, you caught sight of his wide grin. “Why are you… smiling like that?”

“Because I missed you. So much.”

The confession made your lips pout, a hot flush rising to your cheeks as you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. You peeled away his old dressings to reapply the cool herb paste onto his wound.

Even though he knew his injuries were tko sensitive, he couldn’t bring himself to look away, his golden eyes tracking your movements as you worked over him.

You were so focused, your expression oh so serious, and the sight of your dedication only made his smile grow. Finally, as if overwhelmed by his own affection, he forced his gaze away, looking down and burying his face in one hand to hide the deep purple blush spreading across his cheeks.

When you finally finished tying the clean cloth, you patted his forearm. “All done,” you murmured, preparing to stand up.

Before you could even rise to your feet, Neteyam’s hand shot out. He caught you by the wrist, pulling you back down to the mats with a gentle tug. Before you could gasp, his hand traveled up your jaw, and he pulled your lips down to meet his.

A whine escaped your throat against his mouth, your tail curling, but you didnt pull away. Instead, you melted into him, kissing him back with a matching hunger born from the weeks you had spent apart.

His grip around your waist tightened, his large fingers digging into your skin as his other hand guided your captive wrist up to his shoulder, prompting you to drape your arms securely around his neck. He tilted his head, deepening the embrace, and you could feel the vibrations of his purr against your lips as you both smiled into the kiss.

Neteyam let out a groan when he tasted the fresh sting of a mint on your tongue. He caressed the smooth skin of your hip while your hand migrated to his cheek, pulling him closer, desperate to lose yourself in his warmth.

“Oh, Eywa.”

You tore yourself away, eyes widening in sheer horror as your gaze collided directly with Mo’at, who stood at the entrance carrying a heavy foraging basket.

Panicking, you scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over your own tail as you rushed to take the basket from her hands to help her carry it inside. Your throat swallowed hard, your chest tight with the terrifying knowledge that the Tsahik had just caught you thoroughly mouthing her grandson.

Neteyam who was unbothered, bit his lip to hide his amusement, his tail flicking happily as he watched you nervously move around his grandmother.

Mo’at didnt say a word as she let you take the heavy basket from her arms. She stared at your clumsy actions with an arched eyebrow. Walking past you to check the shelf where the children’s lesson herbs were stored. “I trust the medicine was applied to the wound, and not just... swallowed?”

Your ears pinned flat against your head, a deep purple blush exploding across your neck. “I—yes. The poultice is fresh. He’s bandaged too.”

Neteyam let out a muffle chuckle, trying desperately to look innocent as he adjusted his blanket. He flonched when his grandmother turned a glare in his direction.

“And you. The Greatmother granted you a second chance at life, not a license to exhaust yourself before your ribs have even knit back together. Lie down before you bleed through those fresh linens.”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

Mo’at sighed, shaking her head as she began sorting through the basket you had set down. “The camp is already waking. Go, y/n. Wash the mortar and pestle, and prepare the courtyard for the youth, we’ll do the lesson there. We’ll not speak of what your mouth was busy with. Keep your mind on the healing arts today.”

“Noted. Thank you, Tsahik,” you squeaked out, bowing before you grabbed the dirty wooden tools and bolted out, your heart still racing.

As you stepped outside to the washing station, a familiar giggle made you freeze. Reyna’lin was leaning against a nearby tree trunk, idly braiding a piece of twine, a massive smirk on her face.

“Well well well,” She purred, strolling over to you with a swing in her step. “Judging by how your face is, I’m guessing you either saw a ghost... or the mighty warrior finally used his mouth for something other than crying.”

“It’s not what you think it is…” you stammered, your ears burning as you tried to focus on washing the residual herb paste from the wooden bowl. She just rolled her eyes, letting out a scoff. “Also… why are you even out here so early?” you asked.

“I came to get your man since we’re supposed to have training class together this morning,” she explained, casually tossing her braid over her shoulder. “But I completely forgot the idiot almost died thats why he’s cooped up in there!!!”

Over the following weeks, Neteyam’s strength returned, his wounds finally knitting together under your devotion until he was once again whole. He walked into the sacred council big tent, stabding at his side was Reyna’lin. Together, they turned down the arranged mating match, fulfilling the exact defiance Reyna’lin had desperately needed from him to save her own family.

The elders gasped in surprise, demanding to know who could possibly replace the match they had so chosen.

Before Neteyam could even open his mouth, Reyna’lin boldly stepped forward, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into the light. “My heart belongs elsewhere, my people. In fact, I introduce to you, y/n—my cute mate!”

You froze, your tail going completely stiff while your ears raised, the elders gasped. Neteyam’s head snapped toward her so fast his braids swung, murderous glare at Reyna’lin that could have pierced thr Great Leonopteryx.

Catching his deadly look, she quickly cleared her throat, clearing her hands with an innocent grin. “Ah—apologies, I mean his! She’s his girlfriend. My bad you guys!”

When you finally found a moment alone with Neteyam, away from the eyes of the clan, he looked down at you, examining the details of your face. He told you that he wanted to court you properly this time. Even when you insisted that he didn’t need to prove himself anymore, that your heart was already his, he remained too persistent though.

He took your hands, his eyes locking onto yours as he murmured that he would pursue you every single day, no matter what you said.

And he kept his word.

Knowing how much you disliked real flowers, always preferring to leave the living flowers untouched or saved purely for healing, he got creative. He would spend hours weaving artificial blossoms out of dried reeds, supple leather cords, and fibers, shaping your favorite medicinal plants into a permanent bouquet that would never wither.

If you so much as whispered a craving, even those rare fruit that only grew at the dangerous summits of the Hallelujah Mountains, he wouldn’t rest until it was in your hand, even if it meant flying through turbulent winds just to capture a taste you’d only mentioned yesterday.

He had become an inseparable part of your family dynamic too, perhaps too much. It wasn’t uncommon to walk into the family tent and find them arguing over who got to keep his company…

Your father was usually showing him the intricacies of a new weapon design, while your mother had him sitting knee-to-knee with her, teaching him the finer points of weaving. He didn’t mind at all, he had even taken it upon himself to craft the both of you a matching loincloths.

you often found yourself having to “steal” your own boyfriend away from your parents, who treated him more like their favorite child than a suitor.

Even when the day ended and you were long asleep beside him, his care didn’t cease. You’d wake up to find your kit transformed as he would spend his night re-wrapping the worn leather grips of your tools so they wouldn’t blister your palms.

And whenever the traders arrived, he was always the first at the stalls with you. He ignored the weapons and the pelts, his eyes instead scanning the wares for rare beads or iridescent shells that would catch the light just right against your skin.

It was really full of love.

For the first time, you both had the permisssion of your families to see each other freely. There was no more hiding in the shadows, no more burying your affection away from the people’s eyes.

You could finally sit across the campfire, lock eyes across the crowded circle, and share a longing look before ducking your heads with matching smiles.

Best of all, you could finally hold each other close, free of that old, bitter anxiety, knowing you didnt have to tear yourselves apart the second someone walked through the curtain.

You let out a ringing laugh as Neteyam nearly slipped right off his ikran when you suddenly swooped your own mount right over his head, startling it. He let out a booming shout of laughter that echoed through the open air before diving after you, pushing his to fly faster to chase you down.

Laughing breathlessly, you guided yours toward the highest, most secluded cliffside, landing gracefully and scrambling down from the saddle. A squeal escaped your lips when you heard the heavy thud of his own mount landing right behind yours, Neteyam giving chase across the rocky plateau.

Just as you thought you were going to escape, his large hand shot out and caught the very tip of your tail. You let out a playful hiss, spinning around on your heel to face him, in which he hissed lowly in return.

You both froze, biting your lips as you simply looked at each other, the rush of the wind howling around you. You let out a giggle, looking down with deeply flushed purple cheeks before stepping closer into his space. Reaching up, you looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

You both let out a contented sigh against each other’s lips. Every single time you kissed him, it felt like the world around you was calming down, the howling winds of the cliffs fading into a murmur. Neither of you could fail to smile into the intimacy.

Slowly, you pulled away to breathe, resting your forehead against his as your eyes closed, simply soaking yourself in the reassuring beat of his heart. You opened your eyes and gave him a sly grin before leaning in again. Just when he thought you were going to capture his lips, you sank down to your knees on the grass. Your hands slid down the blue skin of his as you went down slowly.

Neteyam looked down at you, eyss blown wide and hungry as you gazed up at him from below. He leaned over, his large hands caressing your cheeks before his long striped fingers brushed against your lips.

You parted them, darting your tongue out to lick his thumb before drawing the two of his fingers into your mouth. A muffled moan vibrated in your throat as your tongue swirled around them.

He swallowed hard, a purr rumbling in his chest while his tail curled on its own. You wrapped your hands around his wrist, guiding his fingers deeper in your mouth making you gag. When you pulled his hand free, you let your tongue roll over every inch of his damp skin, your eyes never leaving his blown-out gaze.

You reached for the edge of his loincloth, tugging it slightly for a permission. A chuckle escaped his throat as he lifted it for you. Your breath hitched as you came face to face with his cock. Grinning up at him, you leaned forward and pressed a warm kiss to the very tip.

Your hands wrapped around it, stroking him up and down. He let out a whimper, his hand burying into your hair for support. He threw his head back, his ears pinning flat against his hair.

“Stop teasing, please…”

You bit your lip from him moaning and swiped your tongue across his tip, licking away the slick bead of pre-cum leaking out from him. You guided your tongue down the underside to wet him completely before finally taking him deep into your mouth.

Your cheeks hollowed around him as you sucked, your eyes locked on his face. Neteyam moaned at the sight of you, his hand in your hair guiding the bob of your head on his shaft. “Taking it so well… can you still fit it all?”

“Mhm… it got bigger, baby,” you mumbled around him. The vibration of your voice made him let out a hiss. He looked down, watching your tail wagging behind you, your ears twitching with satisfaction.

Just before the movement could push him over the edge, he let out a desperate groan and pulled your head away. He couldn’t risk spending himself just yet, especially since you haven’t come first.

Sitting down on the grass to meet your height, he cupped your jaw and pulled you into a deep kiss. His chest heaved against yours as he breathed you in, using the collision of your lips to ground himself and soothe the aching throb of his cock.

“Baby…” he breathed against your skin, pulling back to rest his head against your shoulder. You let out a hum as you felt his calloused fingers slide beneath the edge of your top. A shiver ran down your spine as his thumb brushed over your bare chest, his touch hot as he began to tease your nipple, making your tail curl in responsr.

“I wanna try something that we haven’t done before.”

“What is it, pretty boy?”

Neteyam looked up at you, cheeks flushed. “I want… I want you to sit on my face. If that’s okay?” You blinked, surprised by his request. Your face heated up fast as you processed what he just said.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna suffocate you with my… weight.” Neteyam shook his head, hands resting on your thighs. “I’m sure. And you won’t.”

You bit your lip. “What if I hurt you?”

He squeezed your skin and leaned up to peck your lips. “Again, you won’t.”

You hesitated for another second before moving up his body. You positioned yourself over his chest, thighs on either side of his head. Neteyam untied your loincloth before looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Baby… I’m not sure about this. I don’t think I can behave.”

He smiled softly. “Trust me, okay? If you’rr okay with it, then it’ll be fine. I got you.”

You nodded before lowering yourself, not putting your full weight on him yet. “Tell me if it’s too much?” Neteyam nodded, hands holding your thighs. “I will. Just sit, please.”

You finally lowered yourself onto his face. Neteyam immediately held your thighs firmly and started licking your pussy, moaning against you. You gasped, hands gripping his hair as pleasure shot through you. “Oh… Neteyam…”

He held your thighs tighter, tongue moving eagerly. You tried to keep some of your weight off him, but he pulled you down harder. “Don’t hold back,” he mumbled against your pussy. “I want all of you. Suffocate me if you may.”

Neteyam knew he was losing it.

From the way your lips sucked him down had already left him hard and aching against his loincloth, but now that he’s tasting you again pushed him straight over the edge. He was practically mindless with need, his hips humping the air as he starved in your inner thighs.

You moaned louder, hips starting to roll against his face. Neteyam groaned, eyes rolling back as he tasted you. “So good… that’s right, use me.” You were breathing hard, trying not to crush him but losing control from how good his tongue felt.

He licked you hungrily, sucking on your clit while pushing his tongue inside you. “You’re so wet, baby...”

You grabbed his braids tighter. “Neteyam… fuck.”

He kept sucking and licking, still addicted to your taste. You were shaking, rolling your hips faster on his face. “Neteyam… I’m close.” He groaned against you, eyes rolling back again. “Go on… let me taste you.”

You came hard with a loud moan, thighs trembling around his head. Neteyam moaned too, drinking every drop as his eyes rolled back. “Oh shit…” You squeaked, quickly lifting yourself off him before falling onto the grass beside him.

Neteyam sat up and moved on top of you, pulling you into a kiss. You wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. Your back arched against his chest as you both moaned into each other’s mouths.

You pulled away from the kiss, gazing up at him with almost heart eyes. Neteyam smiled down at you, and cupped your cheeks. Your jaw dropped, heart stopping for a moment as you had a feeling of wgat will happen.

“Y/n…” he mumbled, his voice cracking with an emotion so raw it made your chest ache. “Not once did I ever regret chasing after you. Everything that I did, I would do it again, a thousand times over.”

You smiled, your heart swelling to the point of tears. “Neteyam…”

“I’ve always known... ever since we were children, I knew that the woman I wanted to lead and raise this clan with was you. The day I saved you, I also knew. It’s you that I want for the rest of my days, y/n. I’ll choose you over and over again, in this life and the next.”

You couldnt bring yourself to utter a word. Neteyam noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks and used the pad of his thumb to wipe your wet eyes. “I know we always dreamed of mating beneath the glowing tendrils of the Tree of Souls, and I promise you, I’ll still take you there no matter how much you want. We’ll stand before the Greatmother and give her a show of our romance.”

You laughed and his eyes burned into yours, his hand traveled down to the base of his neck, carefully bringing his braided queue forward. “But I cannot wait another night to bind my soul to yours... Will you please let me choose you? Right now?”

“...Yes. We’ll do it again and again and again and… again,” Your heart hammered against your ribs as you brought your own in front, your hands trembling as you both looked at it. When the neural tendrils of your queues met, blooming and wrapping around each other, a violent gasp left both of your lips.

You felt the agonizing pain he went through when he thought he’d lose you, the pride he felt standing up to the elders, and the warmth of how consumed by you he was.

Neteyam groaned, the intensity of the bond sending a massive shriving through his long frame. He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his unreleased length pressed against you, holding you so close like he wanted to press you directly into his skin.

He pulled away from your neck the moment you murmured for him to, his heavy breaths fanning over your skin. Reaching up, you cupped his high cheekbones, guiding his face down to capture his lips in another lingering kiss.

When you finally parted, you stayed close, your eyes tracing the breathtaking pattern of the bioluminescent dots glowing across his skin, pulsing in sync with his racing heart.

“I’m so in love with you, Neteyam.”

His breath hitched, his chest rising beneath your touch. “I—I’m soooo much in love with you more… y/n.”

You could feel his love flowing through your bond. You pulled each other back in, dissolving into a heated making-out session. He didn’t wanna pull away from your lips for even a second, his hands gripping you as your kisses were the very air he needed to breathe.

He guided his cock down, teasing the sensitive entrance of your heat. The sudden touch made you let out a breathless moan into his mouth. Pulling back from the kiss, you locked your arms around his broad shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Put it in…”

He didn’t make you wait, sinking his hips in, he guided himself inside you. The slick warmth from your recent release combined with his own made the entering smooth, his thick length stretching you open completely.

Heat coursed through your shared bond the exact moment you were filled. Neteyam froze, holding himself perfectly still to let you adjust to his size. “Y/n…”

You could feel how much he wanted to move but was holding back for you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Move, Neteyam… I need you.” He groaned and started thrusting, “You feel so good, baby. So warm around me.”

You moaned, hands running down his back as he moved inside you. He kissed your neck, breathing against your skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long…”

You tilted your head to give him more access, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Me too… missed feeling you like this.”

“Missed you more…” He kept his pace slow and deep, making sure you felt every inch. “You’re so tight.. I love it so much.”

“R-Right there…” Your back arched as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Neteyam groaned, burying his face in your neck again. “Right there? Does that feel good?”

You nodded, moaning his name. “Yesss… don’t stop.”

He lifted his head to look at you, eyes soft even as he kept thrusting. “I won’t. I love being inside you. Especially right now… I can feel almost everythng.”

You pulled him down for a kiss, tongues sliding together slowly. Neteyam broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours again. “I missed you so damn much… I just really hope I won’t ever wake up from this dream.”

You bit your lip. “I don’t wanna wake up as well if that’s the case.”

Neteyam kept his weight balanced over you, chest pressed against yours as he moved inside you. His breath was hot against your ear with every slow thrust.

You moaned loudly, arms wrapped around his back. His golden eyes stayed locked on yours, darkening with heat as he watched your face. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice rough. “I cannot believe I get to have you. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever gazed upon.”

You blushed hard, cheeks turning deep purple as he kept praising you. “Neteyam…”

He grinned, still thrusting. “I’m the luckiest man alive. Getting to be inside you like this, feeling you clench around me… it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You whimpered louder, legs tightening around his waist. Neteyam kissed your neck, still whispering against your skin. “I don’t know hwo many times I have to say this but you’re so perfect… I could stay like this forever with you.”

Your hands moved up to his face, pulling him down for a kiss. He kissed you deeply, hips still rolling slowly. You whined into his mouth. “Neteyam… I’m close again.”

He groaned, picking up the pace just a little. “Okay, baby. Let me feel you come around me. You look so pretty when you do, y’know.” You blushed even harder, moaning his name as the orgasm washed over you.

Neteyam kept moving through your orgasm, chasing his own release. His thrusts became deeper and a little faster as he kissed your face. “Fuckkk baby… you’re squeezing me so tight.”

Yor legs wrapped around his waist as you took every thrusts he gave you. Neteyam groaned against your neck, breathing hard. “I-I’m so close, y/n…”

You held onto his shoulders, nails digging in. “Go on, Nteeyam. I want to feel you.”

He whimpered, hips snapping harder as he got closer. “I’m going to fill you up. Going to cum so deep inside you. You want that?”

You kissed his neck, whispering against his skin. “Do it. I want it all. ​W-wanna be swelled with your children...” you cried out softly, your back arching up into his. “Wanna carry your life inside me, please...”

“F-Fuck...” He whimpered, thrusting deep one last time before he came hard. His body shook as he filled you, moaning your name against your shoulder.

A synchronized moan tore from both of your lips as your walls suddenly clamped tight, pulsing and clenching around him as you felt him cum inside you.

You heard his racing pulse, felt the thud of his heart, your minds bled into one another as you knew his thoughts, felt the devotion consuming his mind as he completely lost himself to you.

He stayed buried deep inside you, his breaths hot over your neck as the aftershocks of his release slowly calmed down. Sinking his weight over you, his large arms wrapped around you, pulling you so close against his chest.

“Forgive me, yawne…” he whispered into your shoulder.

You let out a tired chuckle, your fingers tangling into the beads of his braids. “I can feel you, Neteyam. You feel guilty?”

He seallowed, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, queues still connected. “I do. I feel like we spend so much of our time in heat... I don’t want you to think I only see you for this. I mean—”

Your heart swelled at his adorableness, pulling back to look into his eyes, you cupped his cheek, letting your thumb trace his high cheekbone. “But I love this with you, Neteyam,” you whispered softly, your thoughts bleeding straight through him that he could feel the truth of it. “It makes me feel so beautifully close to you. Especially now, knowing our souls are tied.”

“Did you mean that, too?” he asked. “When you talked about... yknow...” He couldn’tbeven finish the sentence, a dark flush spreading across his face as you laughed at how flustered he was.

“About having your kids?” you teased, your smirk widening. You caught his jaw, pecking his hot cheek affectionately. “Of course. I meant every word, baby. You’re the only one I want to bear children for.”

He smiled, pressing a peck to your jawline while still holding you beside him. “I see you, y/n.”

“I see you, too.”

© neteiam - any form of stealing is hereby strictly prohibited.

[ozzgin]

Favorite Tropes - Monster Edition

[chloesimaginationthings]

Chris Redfield can’t save everyone in Resident evil..

[neteyamthinker]

he has the blood of warriors.

pairings dad!neteyam x mom!omatikaya!warrior

1 show me, warrior | 2 always, paskalin

notes slice of life, neteyam and reader are now parents of two and have another on the way, their son is the cutest little brave warrior, smut (p in v).

synopsis what was supposedly a little harmless foraging in the forest made little naran just like mama and papa— a warrior.

word count 10.2k

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The jungle's breath, thick with the scent of damp soil and blooming plants, clung to your skin. Sunlight dappled the forest floor as a quiet hum of life vibrated around you, a symphony of unseen creatures. Your daughter, Neyira, a warm weight against your back, stirred in her sling, her soft sighs like music to your ears. Inside you, a new life, three moons formed, pulsed with a gentle rhythm, a secret shared only between you and your growing belly.

Naran, your three-year-old son, a tiny, vibrant blur of blue and whirlwind of boundless energy darted through the undergrowth ahead. His small, bare feet, quick as a viperwolf's, navigated roots and fallen leaves with practiced ease. His vibrant blue tail flicked with every agile movement. A blunt, carved knife, a gift from Neteyam, clutched in his hand, served as his trusty tool for 'exploring. Mostly, it meant prodding at interesting fungi or attempting to 'harvest' impossibly tough vines.

"Mama, look!" His voice, a high-pitched bell, cut through the forest's murmur. "A sun lily!"

You smiled, a soft sound escaping your lips as you watched him, his small frame dwarfed by the towering flora. His face, a perfect blend of your sharp features and Neteyarn's strong jawline, was alight with discovery. Eleven-year-old Tuk, a protective shadow, followed closely behind him, her gaze scanning the surroundings, a miniature huntress in training.

"Be careful, Naran," you called out, your voice a low, melodic hum. "Remember what your father taught you about the forest."

He nodded vigorously, already distracted by a particularly iridescent beetle scuttling across a moss-covered log. You knelt, carefully plucking bioluminescent fungi from a decaying tree trunk, their soft glow a promise of healing for the coming seasonal fever. Neyira shifted, a tiny hand reaching out to grasp a strand of your braided hair, tugging gently. You murmured a soft reassurance, your fingers deftly separating the edible from the poisonous, a skill honed over a lifetime.

And then suddenly, a sharp shriek ripped through the air, not from a banshee or a forest creature, but from your son. The sound, raw with terror, froze the blood in your veins. It was a cry you had never heard from him, a sound that spoke of immediate, profound danger. Your head snapped up, your heart lurching into your throat.

You surged to your feet, the fungi scattering from your grasp, your hand instinctively reaching for the hunting knife strapped to your hip. Neyira let out a startled cry, jostled by your sudden movement. The forest, a moment ago so peaceful, now felt alive with a different kind of energy, a predator's presence.

Through a gap in the dense foliage, you saw it. A baby stingbat. Its leathery wings, deep violet, yellow, and black, beating with frantic aggression because it got stuck to a thick hanging vine, a vine that is now the only thing stopping its intent to attack your son. Its segmented tail, tipped with a needle-sharp barb, twitched menacingly. Its small, beady eyes, black as obsidian, were fixed on Naran. It darted and swooped, a blur of leathery menace, its guttural screeches echoing through the trees.

Naran, his back pressed against a gnarled tree trunk, stood his ground. His face, usually so animated, was a mask of stark terror, tears pooling in his eyes. Yet, his small hand, surprisingly steady, held the blunt knife out, a pathetic but defiant shield against the creature. Tuk, her own face pale, had snatched a fallen branch, holding it like a spear, her eyes wide with fear but her stance unwavering.

"Naran!" A shrill caught up your throat.

Your voice caught the stingbat's attention, its wings trying to flap free from the vine, desperate to launch with a screeching missile aiming at you now. You saw Naran’s small body flinch, his eyes snapping at you as though he understood who the stingbat was launching for now, freeing him from its fearsome attention. But still, your son didn't run or back down. Instead, he thrust the blunt knife forward, a desperate, childish lunge.

Your arm, already raised, was about to launch your hunting knife to kill the creature but everything happened so fast that before you could even do that, a sickening squelch, a wet, tearing sound, punctuated the stingbat's shriek.

The creature spasmed, its wings beating erratically, its small body twisting in the vine. It shrieked again, a high-pitched, dying sound, before it fell on the forest floor, landing with a soft thud. Naran, still rigid against the tree, stared at the creature, his knife still extended. A dark, viscous fluid stained the tip of the knife.

Silence descended, heavy and suffocating. The only sound was Neyira's soft whimpers in her sling, and the ragged, gasping breaths of your son. You reached him in a heartbeat, dropping to your knees, pulling his trembling body into vour arms. His small frame shook uncontrollably, his face buried against your chest, his cries muffled against your skin. The blunt knife clattered to the ground, forgotten.

“Mama!” His broken little voice sent a jolt of pain in your chest. “It looked at you, Mama!”

You hugged him tighter to your chest. "Mama’s alright, my boy," you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears, your fingers stroking his hair, pressing kisses to his temple. "My brave boy."

He clung to you, his small hands fisting your woven top, his body wracked with sobs that seemed to come from the deepest part of him. The adrenaline, which had propelled him to stand his ground, now crashed over him in a wave of exhaustion and fear. He cried until his small body went limp, the sobs fading into soft snuffles, his breathing evening out as he drifted into the deep, restorative sleep of a child utterly spent.

You held him close, rocking gently, the weight of his small head against your shoulder a comfort, a testament to his survival. Your eyes met Tuk's, who stood beside you, still clutching the branch, her face a mixture of relief and awe.

"He... he did it, Y/N," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "He killed it."

You nodded, a single tear tracing a path down your cheek. You pressed a kiss to Naran's head, marveling at the strength, the sheer will, that resided in such a small body. He had faced fear, and he had won.

The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of fiery orange and deep violet by the time you reached Hometree. The air, cooler now, carried the scent of woodsmoke and the distant murmur of the clan. Naran, still deeply asleep, was a heavy, precious bundle in your arms. Neyira, also asleep, nestled peacefully against your back.

Tuk, however, was a whirlwind of energy. She burst into the central clearing of the hollowed Hometree, the dead baby stingbat tied triumphantly in a tree branch, its leathery wings drooping as she raised it in the air, parading it to the clan for everyone to see.

"Naran killed it!" she shrieked, her voice echoing through the cavern. "He killed a stingbat! He saved us from a stingbat attack!"

The chattering and mundane tasks of the clan died down, heads turning, eyes widening. Your son's bravery, already a legend in the making, spread through the Hometree like wildfire and traveled faster than the wind. By the time you ascended the winding ramps of Hornetree up to your family pod, the story of Naran's bravery had already reached Neteyam, who had just returned from air patrol, his ikran still circling above.

You haven't even laid Naran down on his hammock yet when you saw your husband, a tall, powerful figure striding up the ramp, his face etched with concern, his eyes scanning your form, then fixing on the sleeping bundle in your arms. His pace quickened, his brow furrowed, eyes, sharp and keen. A flicker of fear and alarm crossed his face as he took in Naran's unconscious form, the tear tracks still visible on his cheeks.

He was beside you in an instant, his large hand gently cupping your back, the other on Naran's back. "Baby, what happened?" His voice, usually so calm, held an edge of urgency.

"A stingbat," you murmured, your voice still a little shaky. "It attacked Naran. He... he faced it."

Neteyam's gaze shifted to Naran, his brow furrowing with a mixture of fear and worry. He reached out, his calloused hand gently rubbing your son's back.

"He's okay," you reassured him, a soft smile touching your lips. "Just tired. He cried himself to sleep."

Just then, Naran stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked, disoriented, then his gaze fixed on Neteyam. A fresh wave of tears welled up, his lower lip trembling as soon as he realized his father was now in front of him.

"Papa!" he whimpered, his arms reaching out.

Neteyam's face softened instantly. He took Naran from your arms, settling the boy against his chest, his large hand stroking his son's back. Naran buried his face in his father's shoulder, his small body shaking with renewed sobs, seeking the familiar comfort only his father could provide.

"My little warrior," Neteyam murmured, his voice a deep rumble, full of love and pride as he cooed at his son. "What happened to you, hm? What troubles your heart, my boy?"

Naran buried his face in Neteyam's neck, his tiny fists clenching the beads of his father's necklace. His sobs were less about fear now and more about the overwhelming relief of being in his father's arms. "Sting... stingbat, Papa."

"A stingbat?" Neteyam's fearful voice was a low rumble against Naran's ear. "And what did my son do? Did he run away?" He pulled back slightly to look at his son, his eyes sparkling with a playful glint despite his concern.

Naran shook his head vehemently, his tears slowing. "No! I... I stabbed it, Papa. With... With my knife." He held up his small, trembling hand, demonstrating the motion.

Neteyam's eyes widened, a look of profound pride washing over his features. He glanced at you who nodded emphatically, corroborating the story. "You did? You stabbed it? With your own hands?"

Naran nodded again, a small, hiccuping breath escaping him.

"My son," Neteyam breathed, pulling him back into a fierce hug. "My brave, brave son. You saved your Mama and Neyira, didn't you? From the big, scary stingbat?" He looked at you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Your Mama is a fierce warrior, but even she needs her little protector sometimes, huh?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, a warmth spreading through you at his words and the breathless look on your son’s face as he awaited what you have to say. "Is that right, my boy? That's what happened, huh? You protected your poor, helpless Mama and your baby sister?"

Naran looked from you to Neteyam, a slow pout tugged his lower lip coupled with his tear-stained face, and yet his chest puffed out, a familiar gesture you knew so well. "I did, Mama. I saved you and... and... and Neyira... and Aunt-- Auntie Tuk."

Neteyam beamed, pressing a soft kiss to Naran's temple. "Of course, you did, my son. My mighty warrior. But next time," he paused, his voice turning serious, "next time, remember to be careful, little one. The forest is full of wonders, but also dangers. Only fight when you must, and always, always listen to your Mama. Understand?"

Naran nodded and Neteyam rocked him gently, whispering soft words of comfort, his lips pressing kisses to the boy's head. Naran's hiccups and deep breathing slowly subsided, replaced by soft sniffles, his small hand still gripping the beads around Neteyam's neck as he cuddled to him.

"Papa," Naran's voice was muffled against Neteyam's shoulder. "It... It was really scary."

"I know, my son. It was very scary," Neteyam agreed, his voice soothing. "But you were brave, weren’t you? Like a true warrior, just like Mama and Papa."

Naran lifted his head, his eyes still a little red-rimmed. He preened, a small, triumphant smile spreading across his face at his father's declaration.

"I stabbed it," he announced, his chest puffing out again.

"You did," Neteyam confirmed, his eyes twinkling. "That's why from now on, son, you must always be aware of your surroundings. Like a sharp-eyed hunter. Do you understand?"

Naran nodded, his smile wide now. "Yes, Papa."

Neteyam held him close, pressing a final kiss to his head. He looked at you, a silent message passing between you, a shared understanding of the fear, the pride, and the profound love for your son.

You watched the exchange, a lump forming in your throat. This was it, the tender, fierce love that bound your family. Naran, now content and preening, finally drifted back to sleep in Neteyam's arms, his little body relaxed against his father's powerful frame.

Later, after a simple meal, after Neyira was settled on her hanging bassinet, you and Neteyarn watched Naran sleep. He lay curled on his side, his small face peaceful, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. Moonlight, filtering through the woven walls of your kelku, cast a silvery glow on his features.

"He is so brave," Neteyam whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his hand reaching out to caress the thick, jet black hair on his head.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the solid warmth of him. "He is. But he scared me, Neteyam. My heart almost stopped when I heard him scream. It's a scream I've never heard from him before..."

Neteyam's arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer and tighter to him. “I know. Mine, too. When they told me... I thought... I thought the worst." He squeezed your hand. "I can’t believe he faced it."

"He didn’t even hesitate, my love... He was so scared at first, but then the stingbat looked at me, tried to launch at me, and he acted faster than I did," you grinned, tracing the outline of Naran’s small ear.

Neteyam smiled, awe and wonder mixing on his face. "He saved you," he concluded.

You nodded, still smiling. "He did, ma ‘teyam. You should have seen his face. He's got your ferocity, my love. And my stubbornness, I think."

Neteyam chuckled softly, a deep rumble in his chest. "He certainly does. If I try to recollect all the times you refuse to back down from danger and face it head on instead, we'll be talking until dawn." he leaned forward to kiss you.

You laughed as you delivered a playful shove to his arm. "You're exaggerating! It was a matter of principle. And I always win, don't I?"

"You do," He sighed, a fond smile on his face. "He's so much like us... A perfect blend."

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your sleeping son. "He is. All fire and spirit. Just like you when you were a boy. Always pushing boundaries."

"Perhaps," Neteyam admitted, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. "Though I never faced a stingbat with a blunt knife at three years old. He has surpassed me allready." He reached out, his calloused finger gently tracing the curve of Naran's small and fluffy cheek as his forehead creased in genuine worry. "My boy. So soft. So small. It's hard to imagine him facing anything."

You smiled, caressing Naran's small head. "He has the spirit of the forest in him, Neteyam. And the blood of warriors." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Naran's forehead. "He will be a great leader one day. Strong and true."

Neteyam pulled you closer, his lip pressing on your temple. "He will. And we will guide him. Keep him safe, but let him find his own path, too." He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "He cried for me when he woke up. It almost broke my heart."

You smiled, a soft, knowing smile. "He has his Mama, but a boy always needs his Papa to make the monsters go away. And to tell him how brave he is."

"He is brave." Neteyam's voice was a reverent whisper. "And beautiful. Look at him, baby. He is everything."

You intertwined your fingers with his, your heart swelling with a love so vast it threatened to spill over. "He is." You turned your head, meeting his gaze.

His eyes held yours. "I love you so much, paskalin. I thank you every day. For him, for Neyira, for us... You made me a father to the cutest kids to ever exist in this world." His lips broke into a happy grin.

You chuckled. "I love you more, ma 'teyam," you said softly, leaning in to kiss his shoulder. "We do make the cutest kids, don't we?" you grinned, looking at Naran who used to be a perfect mix of you and Neteyam but is now growing more and more into a miniature of his father. Neyira, on the other hand, seemed to favor you more which makes Neteyam so happy. "Although I must say it's my first time hearing you say I made you a father. It's always you saying, 'oh, baby, I'll make you a Mama"," you tried to make your voice deep laced with breathlessness to perfectly mimic his voice in the heat of lust.

He broke into a fit of silent laughter, pressing his lips against your cheek as his shoulders shook. "And I did, didn't I? All our fire and stubbornness wrapped up in that tiny, brave body," he whispered when he calmed down, his lips brushing yours, a tender, lingering kiss that spoke of years of shared joy and unwavering devotion.

Your fingers laced with his. You looked down at Naran, a wave of fierce love washing over you. "He's so beautiful when he sleeps."

"He is," Neteyam said, his voice a low rumble. He shifted, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your temple. "Just like his Mama."

A shiver traced its way down your spine. The quiet intimacy of the moment, the shared worry, the overwhelming love, created a potent current between you. You turned in his arms, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. His gaze, dark and intense, held a depth of emotion that always stirred something primal within you.

"You know," he began, his voice husky, "that massage I promised you earlier..."

A slow smile spread across your face, your eyes glinting with amusement and desire. "Oh, did you?" Your finger tracing the strong line of his jaw.

"I did," he confirmed, his thumb drawing circles on your thigh now. "For sure, your back is aching from all that foraging... and carrying our littles."

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated through around you. He moved, gently easing you onto your side, his body so close to yours. His hands, warm and knowing, began to work their magic on the tense muscles of your shoulders, then down your spine.

"Better?" he murmured, his fingers kneading expertly.

You sighed, a sound of pure contentment. "Much."

His touch, however, quickly moved beyond simple relief. His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck, then down to the curve of your waist. The familiar heat began to build between you, a silent language spoken through touch.

You turned fully to him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath your fingertips. The soft glow of the moon illuminated his face, highlighting the sharp angles, the proud set of his jaw. His eyes, dark pools of desire, never left yours.

"I love you, baby," he whispered, the words a soft exhalation of devotion.

"I love you, ma 'teyam," you responded, voice laced with so much emotion. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours, a feather-light touch that promised more.

His mouth descended, capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. It started slowly, a gentle exploration, your lips molding together, a soft sigh escaping you as his tongue sought entry. You parted your lips, inviting him in, and his tongue glided inside, tasting, teasing, intertwining with yours. The kiss deepened, becoming more fervent, more demanding.

Your hands moved from his chest, threading through his braids, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until your mouths were locked in a passionate dance. Не groaned, a low sound from deep in his throat as his hands found your hips, pulling your body flush against his. You felt the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your belly, a delightful weight that sent shivers of anticipation through you.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw, to the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His teeth nipped gently at your earlobe, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Even more so now." His hand moved, gently caressing the slight swell of your belly, a tender reverence in his touch.

You arched into his touch, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "No wonder I keep getting pregnant," you breathed, your fingers tangling in his dark hair.

He laughed and kissed you again, deeply, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, then diving inside, exploring every corner of your mouth. Your bodies pressed together, heat radiating between you, a silent promise of what was to come. His hands, no longer cavern of your mouth. Your bodies pressed together, heat radiating between you, a silent promise of what was to come. His hands, no longer content with merely touching, began to explore, slipping under your woven top, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your back, then moving to cup the soft curve of your ass. He squeezed gently, pulling you even closer, grinding his hard on against your soft mound in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your breath hitch.

You gasped, your own hands reaching for his tail, untying the ties of his loincloth, eager to shed the barriers between you. He broke the kiss, his eyes gleaming in the dim light, watching your every move. You are so eager for him that you fumbled with the knots, your fingers trembling with excitement, until the fabric gave way to reveal the hard, magnificent length of his cock, a personal friend to you now. It sprang free, thick and engorged, pulsing with a life of its own.

"My beautiful huntress," he murmured, his voice a guttural growl as he watched you lick your lips. He reached for the ties of your own loincloth, shedding it off along with your woven top. Your bare breasts, full and heavy with milk and due to your current pregnancy, swelled before him, your nipples already hard and erect.

His gaze lingered, a hungry fire in his eyes. He lowered his head, his mouth closing over one nipple, suckling gently, sending an electric current through your entire body. You cried out, arching your back, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He suckled harder, relieving you from the weight of excess milk meant for Neyira, his tongue licking the soft flesh around, then moving to the other, giving it equal attention. Each tug, each lick, sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building a delicious tension deep within your core.

You whimpered, your hips beginning to move instinctively against his. "Neteyam," you gasped, your voice thick with desire.

He lifted his head, his eyes blazing. He shifted, positioning himself between your legs. Your body was already wet, slick with anticipation, ready for him. He paused, his gaze meeting yours, a silent question passing between you.

"Ready, my love?" he whispered, his voice deep and raspy.

You nodded, your smirk a reminiscent of the cocky young huntress he loves so much and is now the mother of his children. His dream come true. "Was I ever not?"

A grin sliced through his lips as he lowered himself slowly, the head of his cock pressing against your slick opening. You gasped, feeling the exquisite pressure, the promise of fullness. He pushed gently, inch by agonizing inch, his eyes still locked with yours, watching your reaction. The soft, wet sound of his cock sliding into you filled the small space, a primal sound of intimate connection.

You arched, biting your lip to stifle a cry, as he slowly, deliberately, filled you. Your muscles stretched, accommodating his impressive length, a delicious ache blooming deep inside. He paused, letting you adjust, letting the sensation wash over you, before he began to move.

His first thrust was slow, deep, pulling almost completely out before pushing back in, filling you completely. “Fuck...” His deep, aroused voice dragged the foreign word. "You feel so good, baby... Always so good.” His hand on your ass lifted your hips a little to help him thrust even deeper into you as he buried his face on your neck.

You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders, your leg wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper still as he pinned your other thigh down on the mat so that you're properly spread for him. The rhythm began, ancient and instinctual, a dance of bodies intertwined.

He moved with a powerful, deliberate grace, each thrust sending you higher, closer to your high. The sounds of your bodies slapping together, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out, filled your home. Your breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with his low groans.

"Oh, ma 'teyam," you panted, your voice breathless when he delivered a particularly hard thrust. "There, baby... Fuck!"

He leaned down, his lips finding yours again, kissing you fiercely as he cupped your face in his hand, sucking your tongue into his mouth as he continued his relentless rhythm. His balls slapped gently against your ass with each powerful stroke, a rhythm that echoed the pounding of your heart. You felt the familiar thick, hard length of him stretching you, filling you completely, a sensation of utter bliss.

You matched his pace, your hips rising to meet his, desperate for more. The pleasure built, a fiery, unbearable coil tightening in your belly. You felt the pre-cum slicking his cock, making the movements even smoother, even more intense.

"So good," you moaned into his ears, your nails digging into his back, leaving scratches on it.

He groaned, his own breathing ragged, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper, more urgent. His eyes, half-closed in ecstasy, were fixed on your face now, watching how your face contorts with pleasure. He pulled out almost completely, then plunged back in with a powerful, shuddering thrust that sent you over the edge.

A stifled scream tore from your throat as your body convulsed around him, waves of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over you. Your muscles clenched around his thickness, milking every last drop of sensation from his cock. You felt the rush, the release, the world dissolving into pure feeling.

Neteyam groaned, a guttural roar, his body tensing, his own climax imminent. He drove into you a few more times, deep, shuddering thrusts, before he let out a powerful grunt, his body shaking as he emptied himself deep inside you, filling you with his hot, thick cum.

He collapsed onto you, his body heavy and warm, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You held him close, your hands caressed his back, your bodies still joined, the pulsing where you are joined a delicious aftershock of your shared release. The scent of sex, musk, and sweat filled the air.

After a long moment, he stirred, lifting his head. His eyes, still clouded with passion, met yours. A soft smile touched his lips.

"Is there a possibility that I could get you pregnant with twins because of how frequently we do this?” he whispered, his voice still hoarse, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You chuckled, a soft, contented sound. "I don’t think so, my warrior. I’m already pregnant. Remember?" You patted the little swell of your belly. "But... who knows? Maybe this could be twins, although it’s unusual for our kind.”

He laughed, a deep, rich sound, and kissed you softly, his hands caressing your belly now. "You'll be a tiebreaker, my child. If you're a girl, you girls will outnumber Papa and Naran, but if you're a boy... We'll outnumber Mama and Neyira," he whispered to your belly, making you smile wide at the silliness of it. He cuddled you, kissing your jaw and pulling you close, his body intertwined with yours, a silent promise of endless nights and a future filled with love, laughter, and the beautiful chaos of your growing family.

The first rays of the morning sun filtered through the thick canopy, painting shifting patterns across the woven floor of your family’s kelku. A soft cooing sound, like a fledgling bird, drew your gaze to Neyira who is on her hanging bassinet. You were laying on your side, the warmth of Neteyam’s back a steady presence against yours, his arm a heavy, comforting band across your waist. The gentle rhythm of his breathing filled the space, a counterpoint to the soft gurgles and coos emanating from the small, woven bassinet near you.

Propping yourself on an elbow, your gaze fell upon Neyira. Her tiny pudgy fists batted at the air, unfocused eyes tracking the glitter of dust dancing in the swivel of light. A string of nonsensical syllables spilled from her lips, a language only she understood, yet it held a melody that drew you in.

“Are you telling secrets to the morning light, little one?” you whispered, your voice a low murmur, careful not to stir Naran who is curled in his hammock a short distance away, his tiny tail twitching every now and then.

Neyira’s head swiveled, her bright, curious eyes locking onto yours. A wide, gummy smile stretched across her face, and her hands reached for your braids, her small body wiggling with excitement.

“Ma-ma-ma!” she burbled, her voice surprisingly loud for such a tiny creature.

Neteyam shifted, a soft groan escaping him as his arm tried to pull you closer but his eyes fluttered open, instantly seeking the source of the sound. A smile, slow and tender, spread across his face as he saw you looking over Neyira’s bassinet. He pushed himself up to lean over the hammock, too, his long fingers gently tracing the patterns of Neyira’s forehead. He smiled, they were so much like the patterns on yours.

“And what is this, my little sunbeam? An early morning announcement?” he rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, yet brimming with affection.

Neyira giggled, reaching out a hand to grasp one of his thick braids, tugging with surprising strength.

“Pa-pa!” she declared, her triumph evident.

You watched him, a familiar warmth unfurling in your chest. He looked at her, truly looked at her, as if she held all the answers to the universe. His eyes, the color of rich amber, softened, staring at her bright smile and the slight tilt of her eyes – features so distinctly yours, yet unmistakably hers.

When he was young, whenever he stole a moment to imagine a family with you, he always sees a vision of a little you, a daughter that’s so much like you, and Neyira, with her boundless energy and insistent babbling, was becoming exactly that. She was a tiny tempest, a miniature echo of your own untamed nature, and he reveled in it.

Neteyam reached out to lift Neyira off her hammock, laying her small, restless body on the mat you two share, her eyes wide, watching the two of you. You two lied on your side, your daughter between you.

“Look at her,” Neteyam whispered, his voice a low rumble against your ear, a hand reaching out to gently trace the curve of Neyira’s fluffy cheek. “So much of you in her eyes, my love.”

You leaned into his warmth, a smile playing on your lips as you ran a finger on your daughter’s belly, making Neyira gurgle, a string of nonsense syllables tumbling from her lips, her tiny fists batting at the air.

“She’s telling us secrets of the forest, paskalin. Yes, little one?” Neteyam murmured, a deep chuckle vibrating through his chest as he leaned closer, his face inches away from hers. “Such important things, I’m certain.”

“She’s trying to tell us Naran is still asleep and we should enjoy this peace while it lasts,” you countered playfully, your fingers brushing through Neyira’s soft hair. “Before his energy fills the kelku once more.”

“He is a whirlwind, that boy. But a brave one.” Neteyam’s eyes, still clouded with residual sleep, softened further. “The clan will speak of his courage for cycles.”

“They already do. You should have seen Tuk announcing it to everyone yesterday. Her eyes were wide as a forest spirit, she was like a morning crier,” you chuckled as you shifted, propping yourself on an elbow, watching Neyira’s determined efforts to grab a beaded braid on Neteyam’s hair. “He was just so frightened afterward.”

“It is natural, my love. He is so small. It was a demon of the air.” Neteyam’s voice held a fierce pride. “But he faced it.” He paused, his gaze drifting to the kelku’s entrance. “Our patrol path shifts today. We track the remnants of the Mangkwan deeper into the northern forest.”

“Be careful. Their movements have been erratic. The neighboring clans have suffered their raids in the past moons.” You felt a familiar tightening in your chest, a warrior’s instinct. “I saw fresh tracks near the water source the other day, too. They’re thirsty, and desperate things are dangerous.”

“I know. We will be vigilant.” Neteyam’s fingers found yours, intertwining. “And your training? How are the healers faring with the supply of koaktutral?”

“Do not worry, we’ve got good harvest. Fever among the children had increased recently, probably due to the cold, but the gatherer brought back many tawtsngal last week. They have been recovering faster now, so Mo’at is pleased. She says the forest is abundant, a blessing from Eywa.” You squeezed his hand. “Though I spent half the day convincing little Sayre that the glowing fungus wouldn’t grant him the ability to speak to animals.”

Neteyam let out a booming laugh, careful not to startle Neyira. “Sounds like someone needs to spend more time listening to the animals, not just trying to talk to them.”

You laughed along with him. Just then, a shadow fell across the entrance of your home, and you both heard Neytiri’s voice calling your name as two familiar silhouettes darkened the hide flap of your kelku. You two looked at each other, acknowledging his parents’ presence with a residue of your earlier laughter playing on each other’s lips.

Neteyam sat up, standing up so that he could open the flap for his parents. You, in turn, sat up as well, taking the gurgling Neyira off the mat and hugging her to your chest before standing up to follow Neteyam to the entrance of your kelku, smiling at Neytiri.

“What a lovely sight, daughter. Neyira’s already so talkative,” Neytiri’s warm voice filled the space. Jake followed, his eyes immediately finding Neyira.

You held Neyira’s wrist and gently waved it at Jake and Neytiri. “Grandma! Grandpa!” you mimicked a child’s voice, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you watched Neyira give her grandparents a cheeky yet shy smile.

“She wakes early, this little one. We have an early bird,” Jake cooed, his hands reaching for Neyira, who, with an excited squeal, immediately stretched her arms toward him.

“Look at you, baby girl,” Jake chuckled, scooping Neyira into his arms with practiced ease. The baby immediately began patting his cheek, her bright eyes fixed on his while Jake turned to Neteyam. “Where is our brave warrior? The famed stingbat-slayer?” he grinned.

“Oh, the brave warrior is still out, Dad,” Neteyam said with a deep rumble of laughter. “He had quite an ordeal yesterday.”

“Yes, we heard as soon as we arrived,” Neytiri said, her gaze flicking between you and Neteyam, a hint of concern in her eyes. “Tuk recounted the story many times that we actually wanted to come over late last night, but the kids are probably already asleep. A baby stingbat, they say?”

“A small one, but still formidable,” you confirmed as Neteyam’s arm circled around your back. “He was very brave. And very scared.”

Neytiri’s soft gaze pierced through you and Neteyam to find Naran still soundly asleep on his hammock. Jake, on the other hand, clicked his tongue. “The poor boy was probably so drained.”

You sighed, looking at them watch your son from a distance. The sunburn on their cheeks reminded you of their recent travels to Awa’atlu for the birth of Lo’ak and Tsireya’s second-born. “How was Tsireya, by the way?” you asked.

Neytiri smiled. “Tsireya’s birth was swift, fortunately. A boy now, one that favored his mother,“ she said softly.

You sighed softly as you smiled. “May Eywa bless them,” you murmured, your forehead furrowing slightly. “We wish we could have been there.”

“Tsireya and Lo’ak understand, daughter. Neyira is too small for such a long journey,” Neytiri said, her eyes soft as she looked at your daughter. “The air is cold over the sea at this time. And Naran… he is still too young for such an arduous flight.”

“Don’t fret, kids,“ Jake said, seeing how sad you and Neteyam are. “The Tlalim’s airships will return for the trade in a few moons, we could all make the journey and visit Lo’ak and his family.”

“Lo’ak’s son, he is named Ro’uk,” Neyiri said, a proud smile on his face. “Already I can see that he has Tsireya’s calm.”

“I imagine Kiri and Spider were thrilled,” you mused, picturing the scene. “A new baby is always a cause for celebration.”

“Kiri held him for hours. She looked… content.” Neytiri’s voice held a wistful note. “She has a gentle touch with the young ones.”

“And Ao’nung,” Jake added with a laugh. “He worries for Tsireya, for the baby, for Lo’ak. You’d think he’s not a father himself.”

“It is good to hear they are well,” you said. “Oh, I can’t wait for the Tlalim to come around. Neyira will be older then.”

“She will be ready to fly on her own by then, I think,” Neteyam joked, tickling Neyira’s foot. “Right, my little one? You take after Mama, don’t you? She’s the best on her ikran.” Neteyam said, to which Neyira giggled, a pure, unadulterated sound.

A rustle from Naran’s sleeping mat drew everyone’s attention. A small, sleepy head poked out from under his woven blanket, golden eyes a miniature of Neyeyam’s blinking against the morning light.

“Naran, our famed little warrior, you awaken at last!” Jake boomed, his voice a little too loud for the still-waking boy.

Naran’s eyes, still glazed with sleep, widened at the sight of his grandfather, then his grandmother, and then the full attention of everyone in the kelku. He immediately shrunk back, pulling the blanket higher, his small face peeking out like a shy forest creature. You apologetically smiled at Jake and Neytiri, walking to your son’s hammock.

“Come, son. Do not hide,” Neteyam said, his voice soft and coaxing as he followed you. “Your grandparents have heard of your bravery.”

“Yes, little Naran,” Neytiri added, her tone gentle. “They say you faced a predator and took it down.”

Naran’s eyes darted to you, then to Neteyam, then back to the blanket. He remained silent, a tiny knot of shyness, a complete contrast to how confident he was with you and Neteyam last night.

“Isn’t that true, my boy?” you gently asked, leaning over to gently pull the blanket down from his face.

“We heard you protected your Mama. Like a true warrior, huh?” Jake added.

Naran’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of protecting his mother. That part, he understood. That part, he was proud of. You smiled, moving closer, placing a hand gently on Naran’s shoulder.

Neteyam nodded at him, a subtle gesture of encouragement. “Your grandfather and grandmother want to hear it from you. They want to know the truth of your courage.”

“Look, he is still shaken,” Neytiri observed, her gaze empathetic. “It was a frightening thing for such a small one to do.”

“It was,” Jake agreed. “I’ll have you know, Naran, when grandpa first arrived here, I was attacked by a stingbat! I only stared at it in shock, someone had to take it down for me.” Jake told him animatedly, making Naran watch his grandfather with intense curiosity.

Neteyam feigned a gasp for Naran. “See? Grandpa is Toruk Makto, my boy. And yet not even he was able to take down a stingbat,” Neteyam said, moving closer to Naran’s hammock. “Clearly, you’re built differently,huh?”

Naran buried his face in Neteyam’s side, a muffled whimper escaping him.

“He is shy, Neteyam,” Jake said, a knowing smile on his face. “But that is good. A warrior must know when to be fierce and when to be humble.”

You moved to sit on the floor near Naran’s hammock, wrapping an arm around his small shoulders. “And that is a good thing, isn’t it? Humble and brave?” you grinned.

Naran slowly lifted his head, his eyes still wide, but now a flicker of something else, something akin to pride, started to mix with his shyness and fear.

“You stabbed it, didn’t you, little one?” Neteyam prompted, his hand gently stroking Naran’s hair. “With the knife I gave you.”

Naran nodded, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement.

“And it fell and you won?” you asked, keeping your voice light and encouraging.

Another nod.

“See?” Neteyam looked at Jake and Neytiri, his chest swelling with pride. “He got rid of it.  He saved his Mama, and it seems I am forever indebted to him for that.”

“Saved you, Mama?” Naran’s voice was a whisper, barely audible, but it held a curious inflection.

“Yes, my brave one. You did,” you confirmed, pressing a kiss to his hair. “The stingbat was a threat to me, wasn’t it? And you got rid of it.”

A small, proud smile touched Naran’s lips. He looked at his grandparents, then at you, then at Neteyam. The fear was still there, but now it was overshadowed by the glow of his parents’ praise.

“He did,” Jake said, his voice deep and reassuring. “Such a brave one. You are a true Omatikaya warrior, Naran.”

“And you are also so strong,” Neytiri added, her eyes twinkling. “To face such a creature, even a small one, requires a fierce heart. One that has no fear.”

Naran, buoyed by the cascade of compliments, finally found his voice, a little louder this time. “It had… big teeth.” He held up his small fingers, trying to indicate the size. “And… and it screeched!” He made a high-pitched, wobbly sound.

Neteyam chuckled, pulling Naran onto his arms now, smiling at you over his son’s head. “It did. They are fearsome creatures. But you were more fearsome, yes?”

Naran nodded vigorously, his fear now almost entirely replaced by a burgeoning confidence. “I… I made it go,”

“You certainly did, my boy.” Neteyam hugged him close. “You protected Mama. And that makes you the bravest warrior in the forest. Papa owes you a lot, huh?”

Neytiri watched the interaction, a soft, almost imperceptible smile gracing her lips. Her eyes, full of wisdom, held a deep admiration for the way you and Neteyam handled your son. No force, no dismissal of his fear, only gentle encouragement and validation of his courage.

Later that day, as Neteyam led his daily stroll around the clan to talk to the people, Naran clung to his side, his small hand clasped in his father’s larger one. They moved through the village, and everywhere they went, the whispers followed.

“Great Mother, Neteyam, your son! Such a brave heart!” An elder called out, her eyes crinkling.

Naran immediately ducked behind Neteyam’s leg, his small face flushed.

“He faced a stingbat, they say! His warrior’s blood showing, even at his age!” A young warrior exclaimed, clapping a hand on Neteyam's shoulder.

Neteyam merely smiled, his hand gently patting Naran’s head. Naran, still hidden, peeked out, a mixture of embarrassment and pride flickering across his features. He tried to ignore the praise, but a small part of him clearly preened under the attention.

“He will be a great warrior, Neteyam, like you and Y/N,” a seasoned hunter said.

“And his parents’ parents. I remember Y/N’s parents... They were fearsome warriors as well,” another declared.

Neteyam leaned down to lift Naran up, whispering to him as he nuzzled his son’s cheek, “They speak the truth, son. You are the blood of warriors.” He grinned.

Naran’s grip tightened on his father’s hand, a silent acknowledgment. He might be shy, but the words were sinking in, planting seeds of confidence.

Later that evening, as the stars begin to pepper the vast sky, Neteyam sits outside your kelku, sharpening his arrows. Naran is nestled beside him, meticulously polishing his own small, blunt arrow. His tail curling calmly behind him.

“Careful, little one,” Neteyam murmurs, his eyes on his own work, but his attention always on his son. “Always respect the blade.”

“Careful,” Naran repeats, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration as he rubs his arrow with a soft cloth.

You smiled as you watched them from inside the kelku, your hands swiftly moving over a small, intricate weaving. Neyira crawls on the woven floor, all her carved toys scattered around her. Naran seemed to have remembered you then, for he looked over his tiny shoulder to smile at you.

Neteyam looks at you then, too, his eyes immediately softening. “Is that the one for Naran, baby?” he asked, glancing at the mat.

“Huh. Baby?” Naran asked in confusion. He pointed at himself. “Baby. And baby Neyira. Mama is baby, too?”

You pursed your lips to stifle a smile, looking away from Neteyam so you wouldn’t burst out laughing. Neteyam looked at you with a funny glance of betrayal when you left the explaining job to him.

“No, no, Mama... Mama is not a baby. She is Mama, Papa’s wife. Like Grandma and Grandpa,” he fumbled for things to say as his eyes glances at you twice per second.

“Why baby?“ Naran asked, tilting his small head as he stared at his father.

Neteyam caressed his head. “When you love someone, son, you call them baby. Like I call you and Neyira baby sometimes... Remember?”

Naran nodded like he understood that well. “You are Mama’s baby, too? She loves you.”

Neteyam let out a peal of laughter and glanced at you who only chuckled at Naran’s sure declaration. “Well, yes, you could say that... But I am Mama’s husband, her mate,” he nodded, thinking it was all over.

“I never see you eat from Mama,“ Naran said, voice so tiny and too innocent that it made it all the more funny. Neteyam’s lips parted, not knowing what to say, especially when Naran doubled down. “When I was small, I eat from Mama. Neyira eats from Mama, too. You don’t?”

You couldn’t help yourself from laughing silently now, your shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Naran turned around to look at you in confusion, probably having heard how you’re almost coughing your laughter away. But you made sure not to throw him a glance, pretending everything was normal by picking Neyira up to play with her instead. Naran eventually turned his head back to his father.

“Well, Papa is grown, right? So... I don’t eat from Mama anymore, like you two do,“ he said in a lower voice, you could almost imagine how purple he looks right now knowing damn well it was a big lie.

“Okay, Papa,“ Naran let out a non-committal hum, his attention no longer held by the prospect of his parents also being a baby like he is. He turned to you again, standing up and running toward you, hugging you with a thud. “What is that, Mama?”

You spread the mat out before him with one hand, your other arm keeping Neyira close to you. The mat is a vibrant tapestry of blues and greens, with symbols of the spirit tree.

Naran’s eyes widen. “Wow!” His pudgy hand immediately grabs onto it, gently testing its softness. “Mine!”

You smiled. “Yes, my boy,“ you hugged him with your free arm. “For you.”

————————

The midday air, cool and damp, clung to your skin as you stepped from the kelku. Naran, a bundle of energy, already darted ahead, his small feet kicking up dust puffs with each eager stride. Neyira, nestled against your chest in a soft, woven sling, stirred slightly, her tiny hand reaching for the beaded necklace adorning your neck.

“Look, Mama!” Naran’s voice, a bright chime, pulled your attention from the path ahead. He knelt, a small, vibrant blue beetle scuttling across a fallen leaf. Its shell shimmered, catching the light filtering through the canopy. Delicate legs propelled it forward, antennae twitching.

You crouched beside him, Neyira’s warmth a comforting weight.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You traced the beetle’s path with a finger, careful not to disturb it.

Naran’s eyes, wide with wonder, followed its movement. “What is it doing?”

“It gathers dew drops from the leaves,” you explained, watching the beetle pause, its head dipping. “See? It drinks.”

He leaned closer, a soft sound escaping his lips. “Touch it?”

“Gently,” you cautioned. “Its shell is hard, but it is still small.”

His finger, plump and hesitant, extended. The beetle, sensing the approaching warmth, twitched an antenna, then scurried under the leaf’s edge, disappearing into the shadows. Naran gasped, pulling his hand back.

“It ran away!” His voice held a hint of disappointment.

You ruffled his hair. “It was shy. Many creatures are. But it knows you meant no harm.”

“I wanted to say hello,” he mumbled, his gaze still fixed on the leaf.

“Perhaps another time, son,” you offered, rising. “The day awaits.”

He nodded, a last glance at the leaf before he bounded ahead again, the encounter already a cherished memory. You gave him a piece of cut fruit as the path wound closer into the communal areas, the sounds of the clan getting clearer with each step.

“Good morning, Y/N!” One of the women your age, Kura, greets you, stirring a pot of simmering broth. “And good morning, brave little Neteyam!”

Naran giggles at being called ‘little Neteyam,’ a common occurrence. “Naran!” he corrects, pointing to himself as he chewed on the fruit you gave him.

“Indeed, Naran,” Kura laughs. “You are your own strong spirit.” She offers Naran a piece of cooked root. “Here, little one. For your growing strength.”

“Thank you, Kura,” you say, accepting the offering for Naran. “He’s always hungry.”

“They always are at that age,” Kura nods knowingly. “Growing takes much energy.”

Naran munches happily on the root, his cheeks bulging. He seems to observe everything, his small head swiveling, absorbing the sights and sounds of the bustling clan.

Mo’at’s kelku, larger and more intricately woven than most, were just a few feet away now. Smoke curled lazily from its vent, carrying the scent of burning herbs and the aroma of moist soil. Inside, the air hummed with a quiet energy. Mo’at sat on a woven mat, her eyes closed, a faint glow burns from the small fire pit before her.

You eased Neyira from the sling, laying her gently on a soft hide near Mo’at. The baby sighed, settling into a deep slumber, her chest rising and falling with peaceful rhythm. Naran, sensing the reverence in the space, sat quietly beside you, his usual boisterousness momentarily subdued.

Mo’at’s eyes opened, a knowing smile gracing her lips.

“The little ones bring peace,” her voice, a deep resonance, filled the space.

“They do,” you agreed, a soft smile touching your own lips as you glanced at Neyira. “Especially when they sleep.”

For the next hour, you sat opposite Mo’at, your posture mirroring hers. She spoke of herbs and how to prepare them for certain illnesses and injuries and you listened as intently as you would have if there was a hexapede nearby. Once the sun is at its height, Mo’at started speaking of the interconnectedness of all things, of the whispers of Eywa in the wind, of the subtle shifts in the forest floor who speaks to those who truly listened.

You practiced deep breathing, emptying your mind, allowing the sounds of the forest to flow through you without judgment. Naran, observing from his spot, mimicked your breathing, his round belly expanding and contracting with earnest concentration.

“The mind is a river,” Mo’at said, her gaze piercing. “It can be a raging torrent, or a still, deep pool. Which serves the hunter best?”

“The still pool,” you answered without hesitation. “It sees all reflections clearly.”

“Indeed. For the hunter who acts without thought, acts without Eywa. And Eywa guides all things.”

Your studies ended when the skies are already colored both by fire and purple, a sense of calm settling over you. Neyira, once again asleep after a simple meal hours ago, has a serene expression on her face.

“She sleeps soundly,” you observed, gathering your belongings.

Mo’at nodded. “Let her rest. Eywa watches over her.”

“Thank you, Mo’at,” you said, bowing your head.

“The sky calls to you,” Mo’at pointed out.

You glanced at her, smiling. Naran, who had been patiently waiting, immediately perked up, excited at the prospect of flying again as you two have done quite a few times in the past. “Frakrr, Mama?”

“Frakrr, my son,” you confirmed, a thrill sparking within you. Weeks after giving birth to Naran, you went on a ride on Frakrr, bringing him with you on a sling cuddled to your chest. You have done the same for Neyira, and you plan to do the same for the child currently growing in you.

Outside, the sun now stood higher, painting the forest in brighter hues. You climbed with Naran up the immense branches that formee natural platforms until you two reached the roost where the ikran often perched. Frakrr, a magnificent creature the color of blue and red, recognized your approach, a low rumble vibrating in its chest.

“She missed us?” Naran’s voice, full of delight, reached your ears.

You stroked your ikran’s snout, the leathery skin warm beneath your palm. “She did. She loves to fly.”

“Me too!” Naran bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Are you ready?” you asked, turning to him.

He nodded vigorously, his eyes shining.

Mounting your ikran, you settled Naran before you, securely tying him around your waist, his small hands gripping Frakrr’s reins. The ikran stretched its massive wings, a powerful whoosh of air displacing the silence. With a surge of muscle and bone, it launched itself into the sky, the ground rapidly falling away.

The wind whipped past your face, cool and exhilarating. Naran squealed, a sound of pure joy, as the ikran soared higher. The forest below transformed into a vast, green tapestry, crisscrossed by the silver ribbons of rivers.

“Look, Mama! Look!” He pointed, his voice carried away by the wind, but his excitement clear.

You followed his gaze. A flock of forest banshees, smaller cousins of the ikran, wheeled and dove in the distance, their vibrant colors a fleeting blur against the blue.

“They dance,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the wind.

Frakrr dipped and swirled, mimicking the banshees’ aerial performances. Naran giggled, his head thrown back, eyes wide. He truly belonged in the sky, a son of the air. Your son indeed.

“Go higher?” he shouted, his small body pressed against yours.

“As high as the clouds,” you promised, urging your ikran upwards.

The air grew thinner, the world below shrinking further. Wisps of clouds brushed past, cool and damp against your skin. For a moment, you felt suspended between worlds, the vastness of Pandora stretching endlessly beneath you, the limitless sky above. This was freedom. This was family. This was home.

Naran leaned back against you, his initial excitement mellowing into a quiet contentment. He pointed again, this time to a distant mountain peak, its summit shrouded in mist.

“Spirits home?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“Perhaps,” you answered, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Or perhaps they live in every leaf, every stone, every breath we take.”

He considered this, his brow furrowed in thought. Frakrr circled, its powerful wings beating a steady rhythm against the air. You felt Naran’s small body relax against yours, his breathing evening out. The gentle rocking motion of the flight, the warmth of your body, the vastness of the sky. It was a lullaby only the air could provide. He drifted off, his head resting against your chest, dreaming, perhaps, of iridescent beetles and dancing banshees. You smiled, holding him close, the wind a gentle caress against your cheek, the rhythmic beat of your ikran’s wings a testament to the life you had built, soaring high above the world.

At home that night, the scent of freshly woven fibers filled the air as you waited for Neteyam to come home from his patrol. You sat cross-legged, putting the finishing touches on a new sleeping mat. It was a thick, soft thing, woven from the finest moss and supple reeds, cushioned with dried, fluffy seeds.

“Mama, what you doing?” Naran’s voice, buzzling with the the day’s adventure, broke your concentration.

“I am making something special, my little forest spirit,” you replied, smiling up at him. He seemed to have forgotten the mat you showed him the other night.

He scampered closer, his eyes wide with curiosity. “For me?”

“For you,” you confirmed, patting the soft surface. “A new place to rest.”

Naran’s eyes lit up. He immediately launched himself onto the mat, rolling from one end to the other, giggling uncontrollably as the soft fibers cushioned his every movement. “It’s so soft, Mama! Like a cloud!”

Neyira, who had been crawling nearby, saw her older brother’s excitement and toddled over, mimicking his actions, though with less coordination, collapsing onto the mat with a happy gurgle. Naran hugged her, remembering to be gentle like how you always reminded him.

“Can I sleep here, Mama? Me and Neyira?” Naran asked, his voice full of hope, his face beaming as he rolled again. “So soft!”

You smiled as warmth spread through your chest at his little idea of sharing his new mat with his sister. You watched them with a chuckle, their joy infectious. “Perhaps tonight, my boy.”

He squealed with happiness and you craned your neck when you heard the familiar sounds of the warriors’ footsteps down  the ramp, and as if on cue, you saw Neteyam, his tall and commanding form walking up the winding ramp to your kelku. His eyes find yours instantly, a warmth spreading through them, then drop to Naran and Neyira who were both busy rolling and giggling on the mat that they barely noticed Neteyam’s arrival.

A wide grin breaks across his tired face and your smile grows wider, too. “Ah! I didn’t know we had a couple of fwampop sneaking into our kelku to roll on our precious mats, Mama! Shall I go and catch them for you?” he asked you with a serious voice while Naran screamed in joy.

You laughed. “I think so, Papa! Catch them for me, they are really hard to catch!”

The kelku was then filled with delightful shrieks and laughter when Neteyam kneeled down with open arms to pretend to catch his kids. Naran laughed and evaded Neteyam’s hand when his father tried to tickle him, reaching for you dramatically.

“No! Mama, help us!” Naran said before he melted into a puddle of giggles. Neyira on the other hand could barely contain her own small giggles in her tiny body. A delighted laugh bubbled from both of them.

“I’m guessing you had a good day, huh?” Neteyam asks, nuzzling Naran’s neck before blowing a loud kiss on Neyira’s tummy, renewing both of his kids’ laughter.

“Good day, Papa! Bug hunt and Frakrr!” Naran said, his words tumbling over each other as he recounts everything that happened to him so far.

Neteyam glances at you then. “You flew on Frakrr?” he asked and you nodded, smiling as his hand reached for the swell of your belly to cup it tenderly.

You put a hand over his, wrapping your fingers around his large hand. “The brave warrior deserved a reward, don’t you think? He fell asleep while we were at the exciting part though,” you said with a stifled snort, making Neteyam let out a boisterous laugh.

Naran, clueless that his parents are talking and laughing about him, is now climbing Neteyam’s back as though his father wss a mountain. You saw Neteyam's hand reach for him until he caught his son in his arms, tickling the boy. You shook your head at the series of hysterical laughter from your son that now filled the kelku.

“A bug hunt and a ride on Frakrr? You’ve had quite a day, little warrior. Sounds dangerous,” Neteyam teases. Naran, on the other hand, couldn't shut up about his adventures and talk his father’s ears off just rambling about them.

You listened to your son’s imaginative stories, laughing every now and then, but always smiling at how cute he is. When Naran’s attention was seized by his wooden carved toy, Neteyam smiled at you, gently pulling you by the hand.

“And you, my love? How was your day with the Tsahìk?”

“Enlightening, as always,” you reply, reaching out to gently touch Naran’s back. “Mo’at taught me about the dream-leaf.”

“The dream-leaf,” Neteyam muses, his brow furrowing slightly. “A powerful plant.”

“Indeed,” you agree. “Mo’at always sounds so eerie when she teaches things that could both be good and bad.” You chuckle.

“Balance in all things, paskalin, just as Eywa intended,” Neteyam replied, a little serious now. “What could serve as a painkiller could also leave one sleeping forever if it isn’t used correctly,” he added, turning to his kids. He then lightens, tickling Naran again, who erupts in a fit of giggles. “Have you all eaten? Papa is starving!”

“Starving!” Naran echoes, patting his own round belly.

“Let’s go eat, then,” you say, putting your weaving materials back in its rightful place. “And tell me everything about your patrol.”

“It was quiet today,” Neteyam begins, his voice low and comforting. His kids still nestled contentedly in his arms. “The forest was calm. No disturbances. A good day.”

You softly sighed and smiled, both of you staring at each other, knowing full well how hard you fought for a life like this. That night, as the moons cast their silvery glow, its soft light emanated in your kelku. Naran and Neyira lay nestled on their new mat on the woven floor with you two, soft snores rising from Naran, while Neyira occasionally stirred, letting out tiny sighs.

You and Neteyam lay side-by-side on your own sleeping mat, watching your children. The soft, rhythmic sound of the forest at night filled the air, a comforting lullaby.

“They were so happy,” Neteyam whispered, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from Naran’s forehead. “Rolling on the mat like a fwampop in the mud. Their joy… it fills me.”

“They love it. Especially Naran. You should have seen his face when he first rolled on it,” you replied, your voice equally soft, not wanting to disturb the peaceful slumber of your little ones. “He wanted to know if he could sleep there every night.”

“And you said…?” Neteyam’s eyes, dark and luminous in the dim light, met yours.

“Perhaps tonight,” you answered, a small smile playing on your lips. “And here they are. Our little forest spirits, sleeping soundly.”

Neteyam shifted closer, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you against his strong, warm body and breathing your scent in with a delighted hum. “You don’t know how much you make me happy, baby,“ he whispered.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “My love, you make me so happy, too. You.. and this family. It is everything I ever dreamed of. And more.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Remember when I told you there was no turning back, huntress?” he asked, his voice laced with mischief.

You smiled, remembering that night you first laid together. He asked you if you were sure... Because there was no turning back. You weren’t even thinking of his meaning there... Not knowing he was already plotting to pin you down.

“And this is what you had in mind, huh, warrior?” you asked as you chuckled, the sound so seductive to his ears.

“Hm, and more. Did you think I was ever going to let go of you then?” he asked and you grinned.

“Bold of you to think I was going anywhere,” you said and nuzzled your cheek to his neck. “I am exactly where I want to be, warrior,” you murmured, tracing patterns on his arm.

“I may be as dense as you claim yourself to be,” His voice was a low growl, filled with absolute certainty. “I was so sure I was going to make it happen, one way or another.”

“You were so patient with me, my love. Even when I tried to ignore what was between us.” You remembered the playful banters, the stolen glances, the unspoken tension that hummed between you for so long. “I thought I was so good at hiding it.”

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. “You were not. Not from me. I saw it in your eyes. The fire. The way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t watching.”

Your cheeks burned when you remembered a time when you were ogling his midriff only to look up and saw him watching you bite your lips and the many other times he’s caught you cataloguing his body. In your defense, you were only gonna use the image for your nightly routine of touching yourself!

“And you, you watched my every move. Always there, always protecting. Even when I didn’t need it,” you teased, a fond smile on your face.

“Well, you are a vision. You are my heart. My everything,” he said, his voice dropping to a serious tone.

You smiled and pressed a soft kiss against his neck. “And now, we have all this. You saw this vision.“

He chuckled. “You gave me children as fierce and beautiful as you. Look at them. Naran, so brave, so full of spirit. Neyira, so bright, so full of joy.”

“Our everything,” you shifted, turning to face him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. “Sometimes I look at them, and I think of our parents. All of them warriors. How proud they are and would be. How they fought for this. For us. For our future.”

“They did and we did, too. They laid the path for us, my love.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “And we walk it, together. Stronger because of them. Stronger because of each other.”

“And we will teach Naran and Neyira the same. To be strong. To be brave. To love Eywa and our people, above all else,” you affirmed, your voice filled with conviction.

“We will. And we have to prepare ourselves for the stubbornnes,” he added, a playful glint in his eyes. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. “My stubborn, beautiful mate. I love you, Y/N. More than the stars in the sky. More than the roots of this forest.”

“And I love you, Neteyam. My mighty warrior.” You deepened the kiss, a slow, tender exploration, a silent promise of forever. His lips were soft, warm, tasting of the forest and of him. You felt the gentle pressure of his tongue, seeking yours, and you opened to him, a familiar dance of desire and profound affection.

Your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the connection. The kiss was not urgent, but a quiet affirmation, a celebration of the life you had built together, the love that anchored you both. You pulled back slightly, your foreheads touching, your breaths mingling.

“To think, not so long ago, we were still dancing around each other,” you whispered, remembering the tension, the unspoken longing.

“And I would not have it any other way. Not a single breath,” he finished, his eyes shining with a love so profound it took your breath away. “Now, Mama should feed her first baby,” he whispered, voice laced with humor.

You silently laughed, squeezing at his bicep. “He has so many questions, you’d think he’s a teacher,” you said, making him lift his head from kissing your neck.

“Which reminds me, paskalin, that you practically abandoned me there,” he said with squinted eyes, making you laugh even more.

“My warrior can handle anything, can’t he? Even facing the questions of his little boy,” you sweetly said, giving him a smack kiss.

He grinned, kissing you again, his hand cupping the side of your head to your neck. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, the warmth of his body, the peace of your children sleeping nearby, the quiet hum of the forest. This was your life. This was your future. And it was perfect.

[sunkissedangelic]

neteyam breaks two records

1. first born half navi/half human

2. fattest baby in pandoran history

[neteyamthinker]

neytiri dropped him on the ground once and it literally left a crater SHE WAS SO EMBARRASSED 😭😭😭😭

[nattikay]

mama and papa HYPE UP their baby

[neteyamthinker]

the song of hope

pairings aged-up!neteyam x na’vi!female reader

notes healing reader, patient and kind and yearning neteyam as per usual, mentions of physical violence and trauma, ptsd, and triggers, reader is so sweet and kind in spite of it all ☹, neteyam memorizing her like the back of his hand, smut (p in v)

synopsis you had long since given up on the illusions of the old songs... the ones that spoke of honorable warriors. you had seen firsthand just how cruel and evil they could be. but just as you were giving up, someone did come, and not only did he save you from the brutal life you had been dealt, he also gave you a chance to live again... and a chance to love.

word count 15.7k

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Tonight should have been a night of life. If you were here years ago, you would have loved watching the parading warriors and the sight of the see-through fabrics dancing in the air, seemingly to rival the performance of the flames at the center of the large gathering. But with the state your life is in right now, it felt more like a funeral procession.

You sat rigidly beside your uncle, Ka’lu, your fingers digging into the rough fabric of your shawl that hides the faint purpling bruises on your arms and back. Across the central fire, the warriors of the various visiting clans were dancing their tribal dance, their movements a blur of bioluminescence and feathered attires.

The singers were singing a familiar melody, the Song of the First Flight, their voices solemn as they sang about the courage, honor, and selflessness of the great protectors. You watched the flames dance as the notes hit you like a physical blow that threatened to break away at the carefully built wall you surrounded yourself with.

You closed your eyes, and for a moment, you were not a prisoner in a diplomatic gathering. You were back at the riverbanks of your childhood, your mother braiding colorful river reeds into your hair as you talked to her about what you learned from the elders earlier that day. You’ve always been a lover of songs.

You dream of the gallant and brave warriors those songs were singing about. Your father is Olo’eyktan and a great warrior himself... Surely, he will ensure a good match for you. To a gentle and valiant man who will love and respect you as your father loved your mother.

“One day, little reed,” she had whispered in your ears, her voice soft, “a warrior with a heart as vast as the sky will come for you. He will be brave, like Toruk Makto, and he will treat you like a sacred song.”

You had believed her. Your life had been so perfect... So easy and so peaceful. You had spent your girlhood honing the skills required of a tsakarem, of a future Tsahik... Skills that will no longer be needed now. It is all useless. A sharp tug on your arm snapped you back to the present. Ka’lu leaned in, his breath smelling of fermented brew that made you stop breathing.

“Smile, child,” he hissed, his ugly voice contrast to the beautiful music. “Your future mate could look anytime. Show him the grace of a leader’s daughter, not the face of a cornered yerik.”

You looked across the fire. There he sat. The man who would soon claim you. He laughed with a boisterous, ugly sound, the very same hands that now held a cup of drink having once held the blade that ended your family’s lives. No one will come to save you. Ka’lu pretended to have saved you from that bloody night... But here he is, delivering you straight in the arms of your enemy.

You have long let go of your foolish hope in warriors. No one will come to save you. And it makes you feel even more disgusted with yourself knowing that if you ever got the strength and courage to escape Ka’lu, you know that it was still a warrior’s help you would enlist to make it happen. Honorable warriors... a cold, cynical weight settling in your chest. They do not exist.

The songs were lies. The poems were just pretty words meant to distract girls from the truth: that the world was run by greed, and honor was just a cloak men wore until it was no longer convenient. In your world, the gallant were the first to die, and the brave were those who knew how to betray their friends the fastest. Just like Ka’lu.

“I do not want to do it, uncle,” you whispered, your voice trembling but clear. “I will throw myself from the cliffs before I even think of mating him.”

Ka’lu’s grip tightened on your wrist until you winced. Ka’lu never yells... He used the weapon he knew hurts you the most. “And what of your father’s people, Y/N? The survivors? They toil in the mud of his camps. This union is the only thing that buys their food. Their lives are in your hands. Would you be so selfish as to let them starve for the sake of your pride?”

He was selling you to a murderer and convincing you it’s duty.

You stared at the flames and felt as though you were drifting. You tried to get a hold of yourself, digging your nails on the soft palms of your hands. Get a grip, you told yourself. Your eyes scanned the crowd to ground yourself, desperate and drowning, and saw a warrior coming. The man leaned forward and whispered something to your uncle, you watched how your uncle hung on every word the man said, nodding like an obedient follower.

Ka’lu didn’t even ask for your consent when he clamped a hand around your upper arm the moment the man had turned his back, hauling you toward a private pavilion. You weren’t expecting to see something great inside the confined space, but you were also so out of it that you staggered in horror at the sight of a familiar man standing there. The man, Mokri, the Olo’eyktan of the clan that had butchered yours, stood in the middle of the pavilion as if he were awaiting the arrival of a gift.

Or something to play with... might be the more appropriate term. His face was a map of poorly healed scars and his eyes were dark pits of greed. You were never one to judge people by their looks, but his outside appearance surely matched the inside. He is a monster in every sense of the word. He grinned at the sight of you, clapping his hand.

“Come, come,” Mokri croaked, beckoning you forward, and your uncle pushed you to him as gently as he could, as though you were a precious gem.

You fixed your eyes on the ground even though you kept your chin tilted high. In the periphery of your vision, you could tell that there are other men in the pavilion, each sitting on special chairs. The leaders who were gathering outside are now here, inside the pavilion, you concluded. You gritted your teeth when Mokri’s calloused fingers held your jaw to examine your face.

“Very beautiful,” he nodded at your uncle, before moving in a slow and predatory manner around you, like a viperwolf sizing up a yerik. “Take this off. Let us see your body.”

He reached out, catching the edge of your shawl. You shivered, the bile rising in your throat. You looked at Ka’lu, pleading with your eyes, but he only nodded eagerly, a sycophant’s grin plastered on his face. You reached for the clasp, your trembling fingers could barely grip the fabric.

“Is this necessary?”

The voice sounded like thunder in your ear even though it was calm. It cut through the tension, and without even looking, you could sense his authority in a room full of chieftains, as if he knows that his voice alone could command a room.

“This is only entertainment, Neteyam te Suli, don’t be so serious. Once you see her body, you’ll line up for it, too,” Mokri flashed the man a disgusting smile. “It’s for all of us.”

Your breathing hitched, trying not to heave.

“Entertainment?” The man’s voice dropped into a low chill instead of rising, the way most men’s voices do when they are angry. “Let me remind you that you were invited to this council because we believed your clan now seeks the path of peace. We are here to talk of trade and peace among our people, not to witness the harassment of a woman, which all of us here do not condone.”

You sensed the man walk closer until he is only a few paces away from the center of the pavilion.

“You are on probation. Surely, you remember, Mokri?” The man pressed; and you watched, with satisfaction, how Mokri couldn’t even speak. “Get her out of here.” You heard the man say, and he seemed to be talking to Ka’lu, because your uncle glanced at Mokri.

“Who are you to order a man who answers to me?” Mokri, havjng found his tongue, demanded. “You are not even Olo’eyktan! Your father just sent you!”

“I am still part of the council that gave you a chance to belong again, which you are now disrespecting with your behavior,” the man answered, and for some reason, you were feeling a surge of strength from hearing someone refuse to back down to a person like Mokri. “I speak on things I do not like, and I do not like what this situation is inferring. Do you traffic women, too, Mokri? Is this what you do?”

Your heart thrummed against your ribs. Mokri looked between you and the man behind you, his ego warring with the political weight of the man’s words. For a moment, you saw anxiety on his monstrous face and you wanted to rejoice.

“Take that woman to my yurt,” Mokri barked at Ka’lu, conceding the public battle but claiming the private one.

As Ka’lu began to drag you toward the exit, the stranger’s voice stopped you one last time. “Are you here of your own will, woman?”

For a heartbeat, you found the courage to look at him. Turning your head to the stranger who had so courageously stopped your humiliation. He looked young among the chieftains. He was taller than most men here, and broader, too. Your eyes caught the cummerbund he was wearing and knew he was Omatikaya, your childhood knowledge of the clans and their telltales serving you.

His golden eyes were intense on you, searching. No one had looked at you like that in so long. “No, help—”

“She is! I am her uncle, she is just overwhelmed by the honor!” Ka’lu barked in panic, shoving you out.

The moment Ka’lu had dragged you to the yurt, the world exploded into pain. The back of his palm cracked across your face, sending you sprawling into the dirt.

“You do not speak!” he hissed, his face contorted with rage. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Neteyam has made Mokri look like a fool in front of the entire Great Council! He will take that humiliation out on me, and on your people!”

“He was... he was going to strip me,” you whispered.

“And you should have let him!” Ka’lu barked, grabbing your hair to force you to look at him. “Now, Mokri is enraged. If he loses his seat on this council, who knows what he might do! He will kill you just like he killed your family!” He hauled you up and shoved you inside a dark yurt. “You will stay here. I will go back and try to mend this. If Mokri mounts you tonight, you will be silent. You will be obedient. You will give him whatever he asks for to make up for the shame you caused him.”

“Uncle, please—”

“I am not your uncle!” he spat, tying the flap shut from the outside. “I am the only reason you are still breathing. Don't make me regret it.”

You struggled to breathe. This yurt might just be the witness to the death of your honor. Or your death itself, if Mokri thinks it appropriate. Your breathing was jagged, hiccuping in your struggle to take in air as much as you can, collapsing against the fiber wall, hyperventilating. The songs of the festival outside sounded like they were mocking you.

You will never know the peace they sing of. You will never be free again. You will never feel the love they chanted about. You wished you would just die here. You prayed, that if you shall never know all those great things again, then the Great Mother should just take your breath altogether so that you may escape this fear, pain, and humiliation. You propped a hand on the ground, your fingers brushing against something sharp on the floor. Your brows furrowed.

A tool? You scrambled to get it. Feeling a small, jagged blade in your fingers. Your lips parted. Oh, Great Mother. Your grief finally curdled into a cold, desperate resolve. You felt the fiber. It was thick, but it was aged. With the knife in your trembling hand, you began to saw at the base of the wall. You worked until your fingers bled, until the hole was wide enough for your slender frame. You squeezed through, and then you were out, facing the dark, looming shadows of the forest.

You ran.

You didn't have a plan. You didn't have a home. But still, you ran until your lungs burned and until the thorns of the undergrowth shredded your feet. You were uncaring of everything. You wished only to get away, to live your life as you did before, to know what it’s like to be free once again. You rounded a massive, glowing root and collided with something solid, but you knew it was not a tree trunk.

The impact sent you reeling. You fell back, your strength finally spent, and let out a broken, jagged sob. You covered your face with your hands, waiting for Ka’lu’s voice, waiting for the blow to fall. They had caught up on you!

“Hey—whoa! Watch it!” The voice was young and startled, not the croak of your uncle.

“Please,” you gasped, crawling backward on your hands and knees, your voice thick with hysteria. “Please, don't take me back there. Kill me if you must, but don't take me back to him!”

The man stepped into the light of a glowing plant and you saw that his eyes were wide in genuine shock as he took in your appearance. The blood, the bruises, and the sheer, raw terror on your face. “Take you back?” He asked, his hands hovering near you, unsure where to touch without hurting you. “I’m not taking you anywhere you don’t want to go. Sister, what happened to you?”

At the word sister, a term of kin and respect, the last of your composure shattered. You reached out, grabbing his arms with a death grip. “Save me,” you choked out. “Please. Help me. Don’t let them kill me...”

The man looked back toward the camp, his jaw setting. “Sister, you are safe.”

A sob racked your body, your trembling hands finding purchase on his arms but the sheer exhaustion, the nonstop crying, and the pain forced your world to go black. You drifted into a dreamless sleep, but it was uncomfortable and hot, you were sweating, and when your eyes finally fluttered open, the first thing you felt was the suffocating heat and the scratchy texture of dried mats against your skin.

You were in a large, rectangular crate, buried beneath layers of woven mat. For a panicked second, you thought you were back in the yurt, but you felt too weak and dizzy that you couldn't even push the lid open even as you tried. You gasped for air, the crate was so crowded and hot that you felt as though you’re close to fainting. You heard muffled voices of men and you stopped breathing loudly.

“What are you talking about?” you heard a man’s voice. “Lo’ak, I have something more important to attend to. I told you, we need to find that woman before they do!”

“This is just as important. Like you said, there is probably a trafficking of women going on. I’m going to show you something,” another voice said. “And please, don’t get mad. I only did what I must.”

You heard the footsteps coming, and then silence. You held your breath until you heard a soft knock.

“Hey... You awake?” You heard a small voice. “Uh, you’re safe don’t worry... I was just— I’m with my brother. Don’t worry, he’s a good guy.” he assured you, still tapping on the lid. “Can I open this? Or maybe you should, if you feel safe.”

“What is this, Lo’ak?” You heard another voice, deep and gravelly.

“Shh! Can you shut up for a moment?” The first voice said. “Hey... I’ll open the lid. Tap it if you don’t want me to open it.”

You didn’t do as he asked, you cannot even do it. You are too dizzy and your limbs felt too heavy. The lid of your crate was wrenched open, and the sudden influx of bright light attacked you, making you squint, a weak moan escaping your lips as you tried to shield your eyes with a bruised arm.

“Here, I have water. Drink.”

You peeled your eyes open, your hands shaking so violently as you reached for the waterskin that you dropped it before you even opened it, making you groan weakly. You felt another presence loom and you made the effort you move your head, your blurry vision focusing on a familiar face. You saw him reach down, his large, calloused hand wrapping a hand on you your wrist, making you flinch despite your weakened state.

“She’s burning, Lo’ak,” he said, turning to the man beside him.

Your eyes followed the way his braids swayed when he moved, and when he turned to you again, his face was a mask of genuine worry, no longer the face of the stoic warrior who stood in the pavilion. You were curled inside the small crate, your bioluminescent freckles flickering weakly. The purple-black bruising on your face and arms stood out starkly against your pale blue skin. You looked less like a woman and more like a broken yerik discarded in the trash.

Neteyam felt as though the air had been kicked from his lungs. He recognized you. The woman from the pavilion, the woman Mokri is currently looking for. Neteyam’s mind raced back to the chaos after you exited the pavilion. He had confronted Ka’lu about the truth when he came back in minutes later, nearly beating the truth out of the coward. Ka’lu had stammered about you being his niece, and assured him you were safe and were not being sold, but when Neteyam forced him to the yurt to prove your safety, they found only the jagged hole in the woven wall.

That alone told him that Ka’lu was not telling the truth at all, and the fact that you forced your way out of the yurt meant you were not safe. He initially planned to leave last night, to lead the Omatikaya warriors back home, to refuse to continue attending the council Mokri had just disrespected. The other chieftains themselves agreed that no talks of peace and trade can be done after what just happened. But he also couldn't leave knowing that a woman was out there being pursued by Mokri. Who knows what he would have done with you once he catches you.

Now, seeing you crumpled in this crate, the guilt was a bitter taste. He should have gone all out in his intervention last night. He had already asked you, he shouldn’t have ordered Ka’lu to get you out of the pavilion. He reached out again, and your eyes fluttered, your brain too wired to the fact that a hand near your face would mean a slap or a punch, but his touch was soft as it traced the edge of the deep bruise on your cheek.

“Lo’ak, take charge of the warriors,” he commanded, his voice filled with a rare rage. “I am taking her ahead. She needs to get checked by Tsahik.“

He let out a sharp, piercing whistle, and within moments, the beating of massive wings spiraling down fanned the nearby plants, sending it dancing before the beast landed with a heavy thud. Neteyam didn't waste another second on words. He reached into the crate, sliding his arms beneath your knees and back. As he lifted you, he winced at how light you were, adjusting his hold when you let out a pained whimper, your head falling weakly against his chest.

Even through your delirium, you felt the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat, as if lulling you to sleep, but when he mounted the beast with practiced grace, and pulled you tightly against his chest, you can’t help but wrap a hand around his bicep, afraid you’ll fall.

“I got you,” he murmured against your temple, his grip strong yet impossibly careful.

With a powerful leap, the ikran took to the vast sky, and for the first time in years, your world was endless.

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

For days, you drifted in and out of sleep, your mind only registering the warm glow of a tent thick with the smell of familiar herbs and incense. Your fever was so high you no longer recognize what’s true and what was made up by your mind during the hours you were delirious.

When you finally awoke, it was to the steady glow of a hanging firepot. You felt lighter, your head and your body devoid of the aching that has been there for years. Your vision eventually cleared, and you noticed a young woman sitting nearby, humming a low melody. You tensed when she turned, but then you saw her eyes, kind and curious, and you calmed down.

“You are finally back with us,” she said, her voice gentle. She raised a hand and your eyes caught the five fingers, causing you to dip your body further to the mats. She has five fingers! She noticed your reaction and chuckled. “Oh, sorry. I’m just going to check if you still have fever. Can I?”

You bit your lip and stayed still. “Sorry...” you muttered.

She smiled, touching your forehead with the back of her hand. “Your fever has finally broken,” she said. “I’m Kiri, by the way...”

You smiled, telling her your name as you tried to sit up. You have lots of questions but when she offered you a piece of sweet fruit and a waterskin, you ate with a desperation that surprised you, the water reviving your parched throat. The drops they had given you while you were asleep did almost nothing, but it at least kept you alive.

Just as you finished, a small figure bursted into the tent, but she skidded to a halt when she saw you already sitting up. It was a young girl with wide golden eyes and large ears, her face full of wonder automatically makinh you smile.

“Hi!” she chirped, her eyes wide. “May I ask you a question?” she asked boldly, stepping closer.

You nodded curiously, watching her take a seat across from you.

“Well, you slept really long... And my friends and I wished to know... Uhm, did you die?”

“Tuk!” Kiri reprimanded but the child was hanging on your every word.

You chuckled. “No, little one. I was just very sick.”

“Oh,” she seemed disappointed. “I'm Tuk,” the girl said, before squinting at you. “Was your hair always that way?”

You were still smiling, but your head tilted. “That way?“

“It's not black like ours.”

You touched the dark auburn strands of your hair, a trait of your father's family. “Yes, it has always been this way.”

Tuk sighed dramatically, falling back on the floor. “I wish mine would change color once I’m grown... But I guess I have to love what Eywa has given me.”

You can’t help but smile, remembering how dramatic you were about your life as well. Her innocence was a balm to your wounded soul. You were about to respond when a tall shadow darkened the entrance, making you swivel your head to its direction.

Your heart stuttered. The warrior from the pavilion.

“Neteyam!” Tuk cried out. “She’s awake!”

“So I see,” he murmured, his eyes already on you. His gaze was intense, scanning you with a mixture of relief and something that made your skin tingle.

You tore your eyes away, but also remembered that you owe him. You are on his mercy. Besides, you have something to request! You forced yourself to stand, though your legs still feel shaky. He stepped forward instinctively, his hands twitching as if ready to catch you but you stood properly.

“Warrior,” you began, your voice trembling but determined. “I owe you my life. I thank you for the mercy you showed me at the council and for bringing me here.” You swallowed hard, your eyes pleading. “If I may, I want to ask for refuge. Please, do not send me back. I will work. I can work very hard, I promise. I know herbs and I know how to heal, I— I was trained as a healer. I can also take care of kids, I know many songs! I can weave, too, warrior. I will serve you and your people in any way I can, I promise. Just don’t send me back.”

You went on, your words tumbling out in a frantic procession of promises, desperate to prove your worth so you wouldn't be discarded. When you finally ran out of breath, silence stretched between you. Neteyam stood frozen, his golden eyes unblinking, his lips slightly parted. He looked entirely speechless, as if you had cast a spell over him.

“Warrior?” you whispered, wondering if you had said something wrong.

His head snapped back slightly, as though waking from a trance. Tuk giggled beside you. “You have no reason to fear,” he said, his voice regaining its steady depth as his kind eyes held yours. “You are safe here. My father and the Tsahik have granted you sanctuary. I will never send you back. You may stay as long as you wish.”

Relief washed over you so sharply you nearly wept. “Oh, thank you. I will make sure I am of use, I—”

“Focus on your recovery,” he interrupted gently, tilting his head. “In the Omatikaya, we do not weigh a person by what they can produce. You are not a servant here.”

Before you could insist, an older woman with an intimidating presence entered. The Tsahik of the Omatikaya. Mo’at. She looked at you with eyes that seemed to see through you. You have a vast knowledge of the clans, from what was taught when you were a child, but you supposed many things have changed since your family fell.

“You are awake, daughter of Rikahe,” she stated.

Your lips curled in a soft smile, watching her with misty eyes, moved by the mention of your father’s family name. “How did you know, Tsahik?” you asked softly.

She carefully touched your hair. “No one can see that hair and not think of your father’s line,“ she said, her hand hovering over your neck to feel your skin. “Your fever has broken... But you must rest and gain your energy before you work on what you bargain for with Neteyam,” she narrowed her eyes at you. “Although there is no need for you to overwork yourself to prove you are worthy to stay here.”

You bit your lip and nodded. You’ve done nothing but work hard in the past years that you know of nothing else but that.

“Neteyam, see to it that she is comfortable,” Mo’at commanded, her voice echoing with a finality that brooked no argument. “She is our guest, but soon, she will be one of the People. You shall be her guide in this journey.”

You looked at her. You will be one of them? Your lips parted as you tried not to show too much excitement. Meanwhile, Mo’at’s side glances at her grandson, remembering the fire in him just a few days prior, a side of Neteyam she had rarely seen. Usually the dutiful and obedient son who followed the word of his parents and the elders for as long as they make sense, he had shocked the council when the elders had whispered of “political complications” and the danger of harboring the daughter of a slaughtered clan, and Neteyam hadn't backed down.

He stood his ground when he challenged the elders, his face etched with a rare disappointment. “Is this who we are?” he had asked them, his eyes flashing with firmness. “Do we weigh the life of a person against our comfort? If we send her back to be killed or enslaved, we are no better than the ones who wielded the blade.” It was the first time he had ever truly defied the council, showing a conviction that even his father watched with quiet pride.

“Neteyam,” Mo’at said, snapping the warrior out of his silent observation of you. “She is under your care. Teach her our ways, and ensure she knows that under this canopy, she is protected.”

Neteyam bowed his head, his ears twitching slightly. “I will, Grandmother.”

As the Tsahik exited the tent, Tuk chased after her and Kiri smiled as she followed them out. You turned to Neteyam and smiled. “I’m sorry... I believe it is a particulatly heavy burden, but also, too small of a job for you. I think, I could talk to Tsahik and ask that one of your recommended warriors would do—”

“Do you not trust my expertise on this, lady?” he asked, his voice laced with humor, and yet it made you panic.

Your eyes widened, shaking your head. “I cannot possibly doubt your expertise, warrior—”

Neteyam stepped closer, and your foot stupidly stepped back, your body reacting as if it’s bracing for anything. Your chest deflated when you saw him stop, his eyes watching you carefully... And then you saw the moment realization dawned in them. It made you feel flayed.

“Sorry,” you said, stopping your face from crumpling in embarrassment.

“Sorry, what for?” he asked, and it made you feel even worse.

“I... I don’t know,” you said, visibly agitated in your fear that you might upset him.

“I told you that you were safe,” he said simply, his voice low and melodic. “No one can hurt you here. I will not allow it.”

You stared at him and nodded, your eyes heating up a little bit. You thought of your brothers. Your fierce, laughing brothers who had died defending the clan, and wondered if they would have grown to be as gallant as this man. If they had lived, perhaps they would have stood with the same quiet strength, shielding the weak not because they were ordered to, but because their hearts demanded it.

“Rest now,” Neteyam whispered. “I’ll show you around the Hometree once you’re okay.”

You spent one more day in the sanctuary of the Tsahik’s tent, just lying down and regaining your strength, eating the best fruits and food. Kiri returned often to change your bandages, her presence calm and grounding that you found yourself stalling her for conversation. You’d found that she was Neteyam’s sister, and Tuk, too.

She mentioned a brother named Lo’ak, and you are familiar with the name. He was the man who saved you that night. “Where is he? I haven’t seen him yet since I woke up,” you asked softly, your hands deft as you helped her with the herbs.

“Oh, he’s out! Again. Lo’ak is a free spirit. He volunteers for missions a lot. Dad sent him to the Metkayina this time,” she said. “You’ve met him?”

You nodded. “Yes. He saved me,” you said, your voice filled of gratitude.

Kiri smiled softly, and you could see the pride blooming on her face for her brothers. When the morning arrived, Neteyam appeared at the entrance of the Tsahik’s tent while you were busy helping Kiri with the herbs again.

“Hey,” he greeted, not fully entering the tent, just his head popping into the entrance, nodding at Kiri before his eyes snapped back to you.

“Hello,” you said, smiling a little, standing up and wiping your palms against your loincloth.

“I promised I’d show you around the Hometree, but your kelku was finished just in time. Would you like to see it?“ he asked, a small exciyed smile touching his lips.

Your lips parted in surprise. “My kelku?” you asked.

“Yeah. You’ll see,” he said. “Come.” he remained standing by the entrance, waiting for you to come.

You walked toward him, stepping out of the tent. He led you out of the platform, but only then did you realize where you are. You let out a sharp, jagged gasp, your knees buckling as you looked down. You were positive you were in the sky, you couldn’t even see the ground, only a vast view of vibrant greens and giant ferns. Instinct took over; you lunged toward the nearest solid thing, your fingers digging into the firm muscle of Neteyam’s arm.

“It’s... it’s too high,” you choked out, your heart hammering like a trapped creature.

Neteyam pursed his lips to stifle a chuckle, steadying you with a gentle hand on your waist. “Look at me,” he said and you peered up at him, biting your lower lip and gripping his arm so tightly your fingernails dug into his skin. “Have you not lived on a Hometree before?”

You shook your head. “We are river people... And when I was enslaved, we lived in the plains. I’ve never been on a tree this high before,” your brows furrowed, your eyes snagging on how tightly you were holding his arm. You let go, your eyes widening at the sight of the reddened marks on his arm. You gasped and caressed the spot softly. “I’m so sorry. I was being mindless! I’m sorry—”

“Don’t say sorry, it’s nothing,” he said, his hand catching yours. “Can you look down again? I mean, you can’t always be afraid of heights... Not when you’ll be living here. Aside from that, you’ll have to tame an ikran for yourself, too...” he murmured, his chest vibrating against your shoulder.

You bit your lip again, your hand dropping onto his forearm, while his hand still spanned your waist. You saw it as a good sign that you had not made a big deal of him being so close to you. You looked at the never-ending view of the greens below, feeding your eyes and letting yourself welcome the sensory stimulation of the misty breeze against your skin.

You are given a new life, you told yourself. You owe it to yourself to be brave again. You owe it to Neteyam not to give him a hard time as he helps you. You closed your eyes for a moment, forcing the air into your lungs and letting the scent of moss ground you. When you opened them again, you looked past the terrifying drop and focused on the way the sunlight filtered through the canopy.

“It is... beautiful,” you whispered, finally loosening your death grip on his arm. You turned to him with a shy, determined smile. “I will learn, I promise. I’ll walk these branches day and night so that I’ll get used to it. I really want to stay.”

Neteyam’s gaze caressed your determined features and his expression softened. “Take it slow—”

A sudden shout paces away made him stop and made you swivel your head, and your newfound bravery was short-lived. A shriek tore from your throat. Your survival instincts, honed by years of trauma, sent you leaping backward again, straight into Neteyam’s arms. You hiked a leg up instinctively, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing left in the world. Neteyam caught you with practiced ease, his hand firm against your thigh to keep you steady while his other arm wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Spider,” Neteyam greeted, his voice calm, though he made no move to put you down.

“Whoa! Didn't mean to scare the guest!” The lively voice called out.

You peered over Neteyam’s shoulder, your breath hitching. Standing on a nearby branch was a creature you had never seen. His skin was pale, you had nothing to compared it with, and he wore a strange transparent mask over his face. He moved with the agility you’ve seen from Tuk, but he looked... different.

You pressed yourself further into Neteyam, hiding your face on his shoulder.

“Calm down,” Neteyam hushed, his voice low against your ear. He gently cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so you were forced to meet his steady golden eyes. “He is a friend. A brother to me, Lo’ak, and Kiri.” He spoke slowly, as if soothing a frightened yerik. “He looks different because he is a human.”

“Human?” you repeated, the word tasting strange on your tongue.

“I will explain it all later,” he promised, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “For now, just know that Spider is good. He is one of us.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Spider offered a lopsided grin, his initial boisterousness softening into a quiet greeting. As the three of you walked toward your new home, Spider proved to be a chatterbox, telling you abouy how he was around when you were brought here. His energy was infectious, and by the time you reached your kelku, your earlier fear had faded into a buzzing curiosity.

Meanwhile, your kelku was a dream. It was small and intimate, nestled in a curve of the tree that offered a private view of the nearby river. You spent a long time just watching it, whispering and promising that you’d pay it a visit soon. For the first time in many years, you had a space that wasn't a cage. You saw soft furs and colorful tapestries piled on the side and when you kneeled to check it, your found various loinclothes and tops mixed there, too.

You looked back to Neteyam with an excited smile and he tilted his head, saying, “It’s a gift.”

“This is quite a lot...“ you said, “but thank you. I mean, I have nothing coming here.” You bit your lip and stood up, glancing at Spider climbing a nearby vine. “I wish to see the weavers...”

He nodded, offering a hand which you took and he led you through the winding pathways toward the looms, sharing with you the history of his family, telling you that his father used to be a human... like Spider.

Your brows furrowed. “This, I’ve heard of. My mother used to tell me the story... She said, my father fought with Toruk Makto in his war... And that he is different.”

Neteyam smiled. “Perhaps, he is. He chose to be one of us, chose to fight for my mother and our people...“ he said.

You smiled at the thought, but you were too curious. You asked many questions, and in the end, he told you about Avatars whose origins he perfectly explained that you understood despite never seeing what technology he was talking about, and the world suddenly felt much larger and kinder than the one you had escaped.

“I should bring you to where Spider lives sometime. You’ll see it there,” he said.

When you reached the weaving looms, the familiar click-clack of the shuttles brought a surge of nostalgia. You ran your fingers over the fibers, your eyes sparkling. “Is the river I can see outside my kelku easy to reach by foot?” you asked, smiling.

“Yes... Why?” he asked slowly.

You smiled shyly. “If I could, I want to go there and see if I find the same reeds we used to collect back home. It creates good fabric and I can make them here...” you said.

Neteyam leaned against a wooden pillar, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “I will take you to the water.”

You could barely sleep the entire night at the thought of seeing the river, and the moment the morning light shifted inside the walls of your kelku, your eyes fluttered open. You fixed your hair. It’s too long now, reaching almost to your hips, and a little wavy as opposed to your mother’s pin-straight hair.

The people of the Omatikaya were fond of braids, but you wanted to keep yours unbounded for now. Neteyam arrived not long after you’ve fixed yourself and you smiled at his genuine surprise upon seeing you ready for the day. “Sorry, I was too excited,“ you said in a shy murmur.

His brows furrowed, his eyes watching you carefully. “You have nothing to say sorry for,” he replied, his hand slowly rising in the air, palms up.

You stared at it and he tilted his head, as if waiting for you to put yours over his hand so you did. He smiled and gently squeezed it before he led you through the branches. The trek down the Hometree proved to be a challenge, and perhaps, if you hadn’t pushed yourself through several obstacles, you two wouldn't reach the ground in less than an hour.

But once you were on the ground, you moved with a quiet, frantic energy that Neteyam had to work to match. He couldn't help but huff a chuckle as you skipped through the foliage, only looking back once you realized he’s lagging behind. It wasn’t a long walk at all, and he said there was even a switchback leading to the river directly, making you even more excited at the prospect of going there alone.

And when you hear the distant roar of the falls and saw the morning light openly graze the waters, your breath hitched in your throat. The river stretched out before you, a winding ribbon of water shimmering as it reflected rhe morning light. It was home.

Neteyam stopped at the edge of the bank, but you kept going. You sank to your knees slowly, as if the ground were made of fragile fiber, and when your fingers finally broke the water’s surface, you sighed, letting the current glide over your palms, your touch light and reverent. You closed your eyes and tried to imagine your brothers’ laughter.

You have the river now. But there was no one to splash.

A broken sob escaped your throat. You were glad Neteyam didn’t walk closer, glad that no one would see you cry at something as simple as seeing a river. You let the tears fall, hot and fast, to be washed away by the cool stream. You sniffed and panicked a little when you heard him behind you, though, trying to quickly wipe the tears off your cheeks.

“It’s cold,” you whispered, your voice thick with years of grief. “My father used to say the river was the blood of the Great Mother, always moving, always washing away the old so the new could breathe.”

You lifted a handful of water, watching it spill back into the river like liquid gems. Neteyam stood behind you, his posture rigid. He had seen warriors weep after battle and children cry for their mothers, but he had never seen a soul look so fragile and so ancient all at once. He looked at the faint scars on your back, the fading bruises on your arms, and the healing wounds on your legs and feet, the way you clung to the water, perhaps the only thing that had not betrayed you that which reminds you of your home, sent a surge of raw, primal protectiveness through him.

It was a physical ache in his chest.

“If this were a dream, I should never want to wake up,” you chuckled heartily.

His breathing hitched, his foot stepping forward involuntarily. “You aren't dreaming, Y/N,” he said, finally stepping beside you, “The river is real. And it is yours again.”

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Moons had passed since you had first stepped out onto the high branches of the Hometree. In that time, Neteyam had watched over you with a mixture of awe and concern. You were very determined to learn, and when you said you’d walk the branches day and night to force yourself to accept the dizzying height, you actually did it, that by the end of the first week, you had memorized the labyrinthine pathways of Hometree as if you had been born among them

He didn’t know whether to scold you, or to look at the elders in the council with pride, whenever he hears of a random Omatikaya speaking about how you were always the first to step at the looms, before the sun has even risen, your fingers flying through the fabrics that needed working, while also doing your own little projects with the reeds you had gathered from the river.

Which is another problem of his. You’d memorized your way to the river alone, and some days, that’s where he finds you after frantically looking for you all over the Hometree.

But the progress was deceptive.

There were fluctuations in your behavior that only he seems to notice. Kiri had told him to give you time and Spider had assured him you were simply finding your footing. But no, it keeps him awake at night. One moment, you were a determined and fierce trainee, unflinching and prepared to do what he says. The next, he would reach out to adjust your stance, and you would flinch so violently it was as if he held a knife instead of a guiding hand.

He had spoken to both Mo’at and Norm, trying to get the perspectives of different people if there was any way he could help you. “She is safe here. I would never hurt her, I thought she knows that, but then... Sometimes she looks at me like I am the enemy.”

"The body remembers what the mind tries to forget, Neteyam," Mo’at had told him. "You cannot outrun a shadow. You can only shine enough light to make it disappear."

Meanwhile, Norm had rambled about the mechanisms of trauma and how it makes the body’s memory clash with the thinking brain. You may intellectually know that you are safe, but your body braces for danger because it has been trained to. None of what he has heard helped ease the tightness in his chest, but at least now, he understands what’s going on. All he needed was more patience, more vigilance, especially now that you’re starting to make friends in the clan.

Norm has mentioned about triggers, so he always made sure to have his eyes on you. And this hyper-vigilance he practiced for your safety had, unintentionally, turned into a different kind of obsession. In his desire to look out for a flinch or a trigger, he had become an expert on the smallest, most intimate details of you.

He noticed the exact way your eyes lit up at the sight of utumauti, a fruit you’d grown to like, which he’d quietly ensured was always available to you, despite the arduous nature of getting it. He saw the rhythmic wag of your tail whenever Tuk made you laugh, a sound that he had begun to crave like a parched man craves the river.

Even your hair... That unique, dark auburn curtain... seemed to haunt him. He watched it sway behind you on the branches, or worse, how it would drape over your shoulder, the heavy strands occasionally molding over the curve of your breasts in a way that made him wrestle himself at night. He had never been the type of warrior to linger on the physical forms of the women in the clan. He was the dutiful son, the disciplined leader.

But now?

He was noticing how shapely your thighs were as you climbed and the mesmerizing swirl of the stripes on your face, and your freckles that seemed to glow just a little brighter when you were happy.

It was driving him absolutely insane.

He felt like a creep. He was supposed to be your protector, the one person you could trust completely without fear of being ‘looked at’ as a prize. Yet, here he was, ogling your legs and tracing the lines of your body with his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

The guilt was a heavy weight in his chest. To punish himself, he had placed himself under a strict, self-imposed vow of restraint. He refused to touch himself at all, terrified that the moment he closed his eyes in the dark, your face would be the only thing he saw. Just the fleeting thought of your hands on him was enough to make him brick up almost instantly. It was a physical ache.

He would spend his nights desperately trying to count the stems of the branches he could see to drown out the image of your auburn hair fanned out across his furs.

Fortunately, these thoughts do not follow him when he’s with you, or else, he’d have to beat himself up to straighten his act. He found that you were naturally gifted at throwing, and you’d told him it was a hobby your brothers had, so he focused on that. He watched as you arranged the small knives he got you, its small body shaped like an arrow’s tip, but its handle was wrapped with a wounding fiber like a tree vine, ending in a circular ring.

You seemed particularly vibrant today, your auburn hair tied back to reveal the graceful line of your neck. He tried to focus on your form as you picked a single knife, your body leaning back, muscles in your thighs tensing as you prepared to launch.

“Good form,” he managed to say, his voice sounding raspier than usual, when your knife hit the bull’s eye.

“I’ve been practicing the flick of the wrist like you showed me,” you said, turning to him with an easy, bright smile that made his heart do a somersault. “Was it good?”

You stepped closer to show him your grip, and the scent of you hit him like a physical blow. He stared down at your hand on the knife, then up at your eyes, which were lit with joy. You had such sad eyes when you first got here, that even when you smiled a lot then, it didn’t reach your eyes. Meanwhile, now, you looked like you were finally, truly happy.

“Yes,” he choked out, smiling at you. “You're doing fine.”

You nodded, still smiling, turning to your work.

A few days later, as the midday sun bathe the Hometree with shifting light, Neteyam made his way back from the forest patrol. Usually, his mind was occupied with the security of the borders or the reports for his father, but these days, his thoughts were a frantic tether leading straight back to you.

He found you not at the looms, nor at the Tsahik’s tent, but by the mossy banks of the river. And you were surrounded.

A toddler was currently attempting to climb your back while Tuk, ever the dedicated assistant in the matters of anything concerning fun, performed a dramatic mimicry of a palulukan to keep the child giggling. In your arms, you cradled a small boy, the mother of both children had fallen ill with a fever. You held the baby tenderly, your thumb tracing the small curve of the boy’s ear as you fed him a mash of softened fruit.

You have grown in the hearts of the people, that much is clear. They had taken to calling you sister without you having claimed your ikran yet. He didn’t know whether to be happy about that, or be worried about you overworking yourself. You help with the weavers every day and still find time to help Kiri at the Tsahik’s tent, and train with him. You often take care of kids when needed, and here you are now, occupied with them.

He called out your name, his voice tinged with a worry he couldn't mask, but you looked up at him, your auburn hair catching the light as you offered him an effortless smile.

“Neteyam!” Tuk greeted merrily, jumping and showing him the toddler by lifting the girl by her head.

“Tuk!” you softly called out, and Neteyam took the toddler from Tuk’s hands, both of you stopping yourselves from laughing.

He put the uncaring toddler down on the ground again, kneeling beside you, his eyes scanning your face for signs of exhaustion. “Kiri said you were at the looms since before the first light, and now this? When was the last time you ate? Or sat still without a child or a shuttle in your hands?”

You let out a melodic laugh, the sound warming his chest. “Oh, it’s alright, Neteyam, believe me. I am not hungry, and the children are no bother at all. They are a gift.”

“She’s been telling me stories about the river monsters!” Tuk piped up, finally collapsing onto the moss next to the toddler. “She says they have teeth the size of my head!”

Neteyam listened to his sister’s retelling of your tales, reaching into his pack and pulling out a wrap of dried meat and an utumauti fruit he’d spent his morning patrol getting. He simply began peeling the fruit with his hunting knife, his movements precise and quiet.

“Eat,” he commanded gently, holding a piece out to you.

You chuckled, trying to reach for it despite the baby’s surprisingly strong grip around your fingers. He paused, his golden eyes flickering down to your lips and then back to your eyes. The closeness was dangerous for him, but his concern for your health won out. With a hand that trembled only slightly, he held the fruit to your mouth.

You bit into the fruit, your eyes softening as the sweetness hit your tongue. For a moment, the world felt incredibly small, just the sound of the river, the babble of the children, and the steady, protective presence of the man who had promised you safety and delivered.

“Thank you. You are the kindest,” you teased after swallowing, your tail giving a slow, contented wag behind you.

“And you are the most stubborn,” he countered, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as he watched a stray drop of juice linger on your lower lip. He quickly looked away, handing a piece of fruit to a pleading Tuk to distract himself. But as long as you are safe and fed, I suppose I can live with it, he thought.

But the peace of the riverbank was a fragile thing.

Neteyam had known the moment he saw you that morning. The way you held your shoulders too high, the way your eyes darted toward every sudden shadow, that you sleep had been unkind. Even he was surprised with how attuned to you he is now that he could sense every talltale. You were back in the dark, and though you moved through the Hometree with your usual efficiency, you seemed like you were bracing for a blow.

​By the time you reached the training grounds, the air between you was brittle. During times like this, he’s learned not to speak or move too much, and if it were necessary at all, he’d speak softly and approach you when you’re looking. He watched you grab a cluster of your small knives, and silently began to hurl them.

The knives hit the target so well, he would have felt a heavy heat swirl in his guts, if only you weren’t so obviously troubled. Your rhythm broke. Your face contorted, your lips peeling back over your teeth in a snarl that looked more like a mask of fury than a determined expression. Your aims became wild, the knives thudding into the wood with a frantic, desperate violence.

“Hey…” he called out softly, sensing your anger. You didn't hear him, you reached for another cluster of knives, your breath coming in jagged, animalistic hitches. “Hey!” he said more firmly, stepping into your space.

As he reached out to catch your arms and still your frantic movements, you swiveled with a speed that startled him. You shoved him back, your hands slamming into his chest.

“I hate you! I hate you!” you shrieked, your voice a raw, agonizing sound he had never heard from you. “You killed my family! You killed them all! I hate you! May Eywa strike you down!”

You weren't seeing Neteyam. You were seeing Mokri’s scarred face; you were seeing Ka’lu’s. You rained blows against his chest, your face a fury of grief and hatred, tears rolling down your cheeks. Neteyam didn't stop your blows and shoves, allowing you to let it out, absorbing your pain and your rage, letting you strike him until your strength finally began to fail.

As your knees buckled, threatening to turn you into a puddle on the floor, he caught you. He hauled you against him, wrapping his massive arms around you in a crushingly tight embrace, shielding you from the images in your own head.

“I wanted to kill him, Neteyam…” you sobbed, the words muffled against his skin, your body shaking with the force of your heartbreak. “I want to kill him and I feel like I am as evil as he is… because I want to kill them all.”

Neteyam held you tighter, his own face crumpled in a reflection of your agony. He cradled your head against his chest, his cheek pressed against your hair, hoping his embrace could calm the terror in you.

“To kill him will not make you evil, Y/N,” he murmured. “It will only be justice. And until that day comes, you do not have to carry it alone. I am here.”

He pulled back just a little, his arm still wrapped around you as the other lifted so his large hand could cup your jaw. His golden eyes looked into yours, and you were left wondering how it could be possible for a pair of eyes to be so genuine, so kind, and so... full of adoration, to also hold hardness and a thirst for blood in it.

“Do you understand? I am with you. I will not only share your burden, I will carry it for you.”

Your breathing staggered. You couldn’t quite place the lightness you were feeling at the moment, having let go of at least half of the burden you had carried for a long time, and seeing that instead of recoiling from the darkness you had shown, Neteyam chose to stand with you where you are. And only then, you’d realized how long he had known where you were standing, and how long he had been standing with you.

You could hardly breathe with the relief you were feeling. You looked at him, your eyes red-rimmed and exhausted, but for the first time since you had woken up this morning, your heart felt light. You didn’t know what came over you, but he was so close that you cannot help but lean your forehead against his, a gesture you loved doing to any of your family.

“Thank you, Neteyam...” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He’s no longer breathing, not when it’s already taking so much of his strength not to shiver as your forehead softly pressed to his, your lips a breath away. It seemed too intimate a gesture, something he had always seen his parents do. Oh, Great Mother, he thought. He wants to kiss you. To feel how soft your lips are... And to wound his fingers into your soft hair.

“You make me wonder what would have happened if my brothers were still alive...” you said, smiling softly.

He didn’t understand what you said at first, he was too busy indulging himself looking at your face this close, but his head jerked a little when he realized what you just said. What the hell did you just say? You pulled away unwittingly, your hand on his arm squeezing to once again thank him, but for him, it was you comforting him because you just likened him to your brothers.

Your brothers!

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Lo’ak’s booming laughter filled the secluded hut, his hand slapping his knee as he doubled over. Next to him, Spider was laughing so hard he had to lean against a wooden pillar just to stay upright. Meanwhile, Neteyam’s eyes fixed on the flickering light of the tallow lamp, and yet, even its dancing flames still seemed to mock him.

He didn’t want to look at either of them. Lo’ak had just returned from Awa’atlu yesterday, brimming with stories he’d shelved for the time being, his full curiosity being snagged by the very fact that his brother had seemed to found a match. He’d been gone too long, but at least Spider was there to fill him in with everything.

Neteyam’s cheeks burned slightly, the fermented fruit wine he had been aggressively downing for the past hour as the main culprit. He doesn’t usually drink, and now he knows he’d probably never do so again. It makes him loose-mouthed, on top of being too dramatic.

“Brothers?” Lo'ak gasped out, wiping a tear of sheer delight from his eye. “She looked you dead in the eyes, bro, with your faces that close to each other... and said you remind her of her brothers?”

“Shut up, Lo'ak,” Neteyam muttered, his voice gravelly as he took another long swig from the clay flask. “And for the record, she didn’t look me dead in the eyes. Y/N doesn’t look people dead in the eyes. She has the most beautiful, expressive eyes—”

“And that probably makes it much worse. She looked at you with loving eyes? Bro, she sees you as a brother!“ Spider chimed in.

Neteyam groaned, a sound that came from the absolute depths of his chest, and buried his face in his hands. It had been three days since your outburst at the training grounds. Three days of him completely overanalyzing every single breath and syllable you had uttered. He understood it intellectually. He did. It means you felt safe with him. You trusted him with all your heart. After everything you had endured, being likened to the family you loved and lost was supposed to be the highest honor.

But brothers?

Couldn't it have been a trusted friend? A best friend? Even an exceptionally reliable protector? Why did it have to be a brother? How was he ever supposed to make you look past that? If you genuinely categorized him as a sibling in your mind, he was doomed. He would never be a lover in your eyes.

He hadn't felt the urge to scream and throw a full-blown tantrum since he was ten years old, but right now, the frustrated man inside him wanted to kick over the firepot. He wanted to march right over to your kelku, wake you up, and demand to know exactly what you meant by that.

But he immediately slap himself back to reality. The meaning was already clear as day. Besides, he knows you wouldn’t appreciate a massive, brooding warrior showing up drunk at your hut in the dead of night. It was probably the absolute quickest way to trigger every single defense mechanism you had. You would be so scared, he was already recoiling at the thought of terrifying you.

And tomorrow was too important. Tomorrow, you were finally climbing the Hallelujah Mountains to tame your ikran alongside a handful of Omatikaya youths. You needed your rest. He wanted to be clear-headed, even though he wouldn’t be there to guide you because there are warriors assigned for that.

With a heavy sigh, Neteyam capped the flask and pushed it away, ignoring Lo’ak’s continued snickering. He would tuck these stupid, selfish thoughts into the darkest corner of his mind. For you, he would be exactly what you needed him to be. Even if it killed him.

By the morning, the heavy fog of the wine had been strictly dealt with. Neteyam had woken up before dawn, running a through the lower brush before plunging himself into the freezing currents of the river to scrub away the lingering stink of alcohol. By the time he walked up to your kelku, he was back to being the perfect soldier.

Except, apparently, you were as keen as a viperwolf.

The moment you stepped out of your pod, your auburn hair neatly bound and your eyes filled with nervous anticipation for the hunt, you stopped. You looked at him, your gaze sweeping over the slight tightness in his jaw and the faint shadow beneath his eyes.

Before he could even greet, you stepped into his space. Your hands lifted, cupping his jawline gently. “Did you sleep late?” you asked, tilting your head.

Neteyam’s breath caught instantly. His throat going completely dry, but he cleared his throat roughly, trying to ignore the way your thumbs lightly brushed his skin. “Not... too late. I was just drinking with Lo’ak and Spider last night. Celebrating his return.”

Your lips pushed forward into a thoughtful, slightly amused pout. Your eyes turned intensely curious, but there was a faint apprehension in them. “Fun... or girl problems?” you asked softly.

His heart actively leapt into his mouth, he literally nearly choked. Did you know? Did Spider happen to sleep walk and mouth off? “A little bit of both,” he lied quickly, his ears twitching. “Lo’ak’s girl problems... anyway.“

You let out a soft chuckle, dropping your hands from his face. “And you?” you asked lightly as you both turned and began walking down the massive, winding ramp of Hometree. “You don’t have one of your own?”

Neteyam kept his gaze fixed on the path ahead, his chest tightening. Oh, I do, he thought. I have a massive one. She’s currently walking right next to me, thinking I’m her brother.

“I do,” he said aloud.

His voice was quiet, but it hit you like an unexpected splash of cold river water. You froze for a fraction of a second before forcing your feet to keep moving, your lips parting in utter surprise. You didn't know how to react.

First, because the concept of Neteyam having a girlfriend or an intended had literally never crossed your mind. He was always with his family, with the patrols, or with you. You had never seen him speak to the other huntresses with anything more than polite, detached respect.

Second... a sudden, suffocating image bloomed in your mind. You imagined a beautiful, flawless huntress standing beside him. Someone with perfect blue skin who moves with the grace of a warrior. Someone who hadn't spent the last eight years weak and enslaved. Someone who wasn't broken.

For some reason, the mental image left a bitter taste in your mouth that your stomach twisted into a tight, uncomfortable knot. You hated it. You immediately hated yourself for feeling it. Neteyam has been nothing but good to you. He was kind, he was patient, he had held you while you screamed your lungs out into his chest. He deserved all the happiness the Great Mother could provide.

Why wouldn't you want him to be happy? Why did the thought of him belonging to someone else make you feel like you’d never see the river again?

You cleared your throat, smiling up at him. “I guess you’d been too busy with me in the past moons, huh?” you sighed, pursing your lips. “I’ll do my best today, I promise, so you’d have more time to pursue your interests again,” you said, reaching up to touch his forearm. “Neteyam, you’d been really kind to me... So, I hope you get whatever your heart desires because you deserve it. I’ll pray for it.” you told him, nodding with serious encouragement.

A horn blew and you grinned at him, turning your back to gather with those who would be claiming their ikran today, leaving Neteyam with his jaw literally slack. How had things come to that? He was careful not to let you misunderstand the reason for his drinking, lying about Lo’ak having girl problems, and it still ended up with you thinking he had girl problems because of two stupid words!

Later, in the Hallelujah Mountains, the high altitude had left your chest tight. You still had fear of heights, despite having stayed at Hometree for several moons now, but it was bearable, especially when the adrenaline pulsing through your veins was pure fire. The teenagers way younger than you had done it, so you saw no reason to be scared and hold back.

It was a beautiful purple ikran that faced you fiercely when you approached and you’d known she has chosen you. You only needed to prove yourself, so you fought her. The ikran was not the usual mount of your people, but you are with the Omatikaya now, and mounting one would prove your place, so you fought until you had done it. You faced the sheer drops, wrestled the wind, and fought the fierce purple ikran until she accepted your bond.

You shriek in pure joy as you flew in the air. The ikran seemed to pick up on your excitement and now, she’s twirling in the air, making you hold tight. Some of the younger claimants rushed to fly back next to you, all of you flying down to the instructed bank. The feeling was indescribable, though a small, quiet part of you had wished that Neteyam was there right beside you.

You landed on the bank, leading your ikran to drink from the stream. You thought you’d look for Neteyam, but before you could even go looking for him, you were intercepted at the lower platforms by Kiri, Spider, and Tuk who were apparently sneaking off to the human facility before the night’s festival began. Tuk practically tackled you in excitement and you were easily enticed to go. Neteyam had brought you there a few times to introduce you to the creatures like Spider, and you remembered being amazed at just how many Spiders live there.

But of course, you quickly understood that they were just like you. There are males and females. They just look different... No tail and no Kuru. And they can’t breathe your air. Neteyam showed you Kiri’s mother. And then showed you Norm, before explaining to you that his father was once just like it, a human driving an Avatar. You had grown remarkably used to the humans and their strange, metal world, even picking up a few things about their language.

At the facility, Kiri encouraged you to try the shower, she said it’s just like rain but from metal. “So, it's like metal rain,” Tuk said, nodding.

Your brows furrowed, looking at the weird thing. Spider went inside to show you how it works. He pressed on something and rain did come out of the thing! Your mouth formed an ‘o’, amazed by it. “That is amazing. You can call rain anytime you want!”

Kiri grinned. “Yes, something like that,” she nodded.

“Is there... A metal river?” you asked.

Spider pushed his lips forward. “A pool? That would be a pool, I think. But... There’s none here. The natural rivers are better anyway, don’t you think?”

You chuckled and nodded. “A lot better, I can imagine.”

“Wanna try this, sister?” Tuk asked, her eyes filled with mischief and excitement, gesturing to the metal rain.

“I guess...” you whispered.

So you tried, and it felt incredible. It did the same thing waterfalls did, only that a waterfall had more pressure, but it did wash away the mountain grime. As a celebration for passing your iknimaya, Kiri presented you with a stunning new loincloth and top made of ombre fibers that shifted from deep violet to soft lavender, coincidentally matching your new ikran. Tuk, determined to add her own touch, spent an hour braiding sections of your dark auburn hair, weaving patterns that sat like a waterfalls atop your head, designed with small, pristine feathers.

By the time the four of you made it back to Hometree, the sun had yielded to darkness, and the festival drums were already loud.

You stopped at the edge of the communal clearing, your eyes scanning the crowd, immediately catching Neteyam in his full warrior gear. His chest sheath and his warrior cummerbund gleamed under the firelight, his skin beautiful against the firelight. He looked every bit the future Olo’eyktan.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snapped in your direction, and his eyes locked onto yours as you offered him a bright, wide-eyed wave. It didn’t leave you even after you joined your usual circle, watching your every move, admiring how the fibers of your top seemed to mold over your peaks, and how the braids on your long, dark auburn hair looked like waters falling.

He was itching to go to you, but because it was a formal festival, he had to take his place on the high dais, eating with his family while the traditional ceremonies took place. But the moment the formalities concluded and the drums shifted to a lively, rhythmic beat for the dancing, Neteyam practically vanished from the dais.

He appeared in front of you, stopping a step away, just watching you look at him. His arms lifted just a fraction, a subtle gesture that looked as if he desperately wanted to hold you but was letting you choose to give it, so you didn't make him wait. You threw yourself forward, stepping up on your tiptoes as you wrapped your arms around his nape, pulling your body flush against his.

“I got a purple ikran!” you breathed excitedly against his ear. “Want to see her?”

“Sure...” he murmured, his voice sounding completely distracted, thick and low.

He didn't pull away, instead, his nose buried into the side of your hair, taking a deep, ragged breath. His large hands came up to wrap around your waist, his long fingers wounding through the soft, clean strands of your hair until they reached the tips at your lower back. He ran his thumbs over the intricate crown of braids Tuk had made.

“You smell like... shampoo,” he noted, the foreign word sounding heavy.

You chuckled, your hands shifting down to rest on his forearms, feeling the firm, warm muscle beneath your palms. “Yes, we took a bath at Spider’s place. They have different stuff for the hair and skin there.” You tilted your head back, looking up at him with a mischievous, happy glow. “They also have this liquid they spray on you that makes you smell like sweet flowers. Smell my neck!”

You bared the smooth line of your throat to him, completely unaware of the absolute war that immediately raged inside him. Neteyam’s breath hitched, angling his head as he leaned into the curve of your neck. He was so close that the tip of his nose grazed the soft skin of your throat, sending a sudden, sharp shiver down your spine that made you let out a breathless chuckle. A sound that made his knees feel momentarily weak.

When he finally pulled back, his golden eyes were dark, burning with a quiet intensity. “Let’s go see your ikran,” he mumbled.

You nodded excitedly, leading him through the winding pathways up to the high roosts. He admired the fierce, purple creature, offering her a respectful nod, before calling for his own ikran. Together, you launched into the cool night air, leaving the noise of the festival behind as you soared through rainforest, eventually settling on a high ledge beside the massive waterfalls where the river starts.

The roar of the water was a familiar soothing sound, but as you caressed the smooth snout of your resting ikran, a sudden wave of melancholy washed over you. Now that you have claimed her, you wouldn't be under his constant supervision anymore. You wouldn't have his mandatory company.

You turned to him, your heart full. “Neteyam...” you called softly, making him stand still. “On the night you saved me in the pavilion,” you began, “I had completely given up. I used to dream about the old songs... About honorable warriors who protect the innocent and the vulnerable... But after so many years, I thought those were just stupid lies told to children.”

You stepped closer to him, your eyes misty but entirely focused on his face.

“But you brought my faith back in them, Neteyam. You showed me that they do still exist. The gallant, chivalrous protectors. You are one of them.”

Neteyam stayed silent for a long moment, the bioluminescence under the water reflecting in his eyes. “But what if I am not so... chivalrous?” he asked quietly.

You swiveled fully toward him, your brows rising in confusion. “Hm?”

He took a deliberate step forward, waiting for that familiar flinch to freeze your features, but it didn't come. You just looked up at him, your expression entirely open and curious. So, he stepped even closer, completely closing the distance between you.

Your eyes involuntarily flickered down his body, being reminded about how you had always quietly admired it. He was built differently than the average male. He carried the broad, heavy shoulder structure and muscled body of his father, but Neteyam seemed even bigger and stood several inches taller than most.

“You spoke this morning about taking up too much of my time,” he said, his voice dropping into that deep register that made you feel flutters in your belly. “And you said that now that you have your ikran, I will have the freedom to pursue my own interests.” He tilted his head, his gaze intensely focused on your face. “But can I really do that? Will you... allow me?”

Your brows furrowed, a soft, puzzled chuckle escaping your lips. “Why shouldn't I? I don’t... own you, Neteyam. I’ve told you, it is my absolute wish for you to get whatever your heart desires because you deserve it.” You lifted your hand, gently resting it against his arm. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Neteyam reached down, his large hand sliding down your forearm to securely clasp your smaller fingers in his. He stared directly into your eyes, his chest rising and falling with a heavy breath.

“I mean... will you allow me... to pursue you?” he asked softly, the words hanging in the misty air between you. “You are my interest, Y/N. You are my heart’s desire.”

The words struck you. Your breath caught, your lips parting in sheer disbelief despite your heart soaring in a wild rhythm as if flutters in your chest. But the old, defensive ghosts in your mind instantly whispered that it couldn't possibly be true.

“Neteyam... no,” you whispered, looking down at your joined hands. “You are probably just... enticed by the novelty. I am new and uh... Well... broken. It will pass in time.”

“It will not,” he intercepted fiercely, his grip on your hand tightening just enough to ground you. He used his other hand to gently lift your jaw, forcing you to look at the raw, undisguised adoration swimming in his eyes. “You are not broken. You are beautiful, and I see you. Give me a chance to prove it to you. Let me show you that my feelings are true. I will court you, Y/N. I will court you according to our ways, according to your ways, until the day you decide I am worthy to be your mate.”

You stared at him. You had never, in your most desperate dreams during those eight years of darkness, ever imagined you would be standing on a mountain peak with a man looking at you like you were his entire world. You had never thought that the stupid dreams younger you had dreamed of would ever come to life. The tears broke free then, hot and wet, but they were entirely from relief.

You lunged forward, throwing your arms around his torso, and Neteyam caught you instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his massive arms crushed you against him in an embrace as a low, contented purr vibrated deep within his chest.

Slowly, you pulled back just enough to frame his face, your hands cupping his strong jawline. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead firmly against his, the intimate gesture that should give him flashbacks, but now feels as intimate as the one his parents shared.

Your other hand slid down to his chest, your palm pressing flat against his skin, feeling the heavy, erratic thudding of his heart beneath his ribs.

“If your heart truly desires mine...” you whispered, your gaze dropping down to his lips, “then I will allow you to win it.”

Neteyam was practically floating when he stepped through the woven entrance of his home that night, the sweet floral scent of the human liquid you had sprayed on your neck seemed permanently bonded to his senses, yet it was nothing compared to the absolute fire burning in his chest.

He expected the receiving area to be empty, thinking most of his family would be asleep by now, but Jake and Neytiri were there, sitting by the dying embers of the hearth. Jake looked up and it took him less than a second to take in his eldest son’s dazed expression, the uncharacteristic swing of his arms, and the massive, helpless smile pulling at his lips. Jake had seen the two of you slip away from the festival earlier, and he knew that look. He had worn it himself under a different canopy, many years ago.

“So,“ Jake said, his voice laced with an amused, knowing rumble. “Did you ask the girl for her hand in courtship, or are you just planning to stare at the ceiling for many nights again?”

Neteyam choked on his own breath, his ears instantly pinning back as a dark violet flush rushed to his cheeks. “I... how did you—”

Neytiri’s head snapped toward her husband, her sharp eyes widening in surprise, though her shock was mostly directed at how straightforward Jake was being. “Ma Jake,” she murmured, a gentle warning in her tone, before her gaze shifted back to her son.

Mo’at had pulled Neytiri aside moons ago, whispering about the alignment the Great Mother had planned. Initially, Neytiri had harbored quiet reservations. Your lineage was good, but your spirit had been heavily burdened, your body kept in a cage for eight long years. She had worried your trauma would hold you back.

But as the moons progressed, Neytiri had seen how you wove yourself into the clan, and above all, she saw her son. She saw the way Neteyam’s eyes tracked your every movement, and how a simple, effortless glance from you would literally made him jump on the soles of his feet, eager to serve, eager to protect. Her son was entirely taken. He had been from the very start.

“And?” Neytiri asked softly, her eyes fixed on her son.

Neteyam cleared his throat, standing taller, though his ears still twitched with embarrassment. “Yes... I asked her. She... she is allowing me to win her heart. I will court her properly.”

Neytiri nodded, a profound sense of peace settling over her features. “She is strong, Neteyam... You will honor her."

Jake’s smile faded slightly, replaced by the heavy gravity of a father and a leader. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s a good path, son. But you need to keep your eyes open. Mokri hasn't forgotten about her. He isn't actively hunting for her, but he’s out there, and he knows she’s hiding.”

The mention of the man’s name caused the warmth in the hut to vanish instantly. Neytiri watched her son closely, noting the sudden, dangerous glint that flashed across Neteyam’s golden eyes. His jaw clenched into a hard, rigid line.

“Let him come,” Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying register that sounded exactly like his father’s war voice. “He will have to tear my heart from my chest before he ever puts a hand on her again.”

Two moons passed since then, and the forest breathed in a rhythm of heat and rain.

Neteyam had kept his word with a devotion that bordered on worship. He courted you openly under the watchful eyes of the clan. But to be honest, he had captured your heart long before the formal courtship ever began. You just hadn't been aware of its depth until now. Looking at him now, you fully understood what your heart wanted. You wanted him.

The sky was dark and peppered with stars when you both guided your ikrans down toward a secluded riverbank, deep within a part of the rainforest where the Omatikaya rarely patrolled. The water here was still, reflecting the bioluminescent moss that clung to it's grounds.

As you slipped off your purple mount, smoothing your hand down her snout, your tail flicked languidly behind you, brushing against Neteyam’s thigh, so with a quiet, playful smirk, his large hand reached out and caught the tip, tugging it teasingly.

You jolted from the intense, tingling sensation, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you swiveled to face him. For a second, you both stood perfectly still, eyes locked, waiting to see who would launch the first tickle attack. But when Neteyam took a large, deliberate step forward, you shrieked with delight, turning on your heel and running down the mossy bank.

But you didn't get far because he caught you in three paces, his strong arm winding securely around your waist and pulling you up against his chest. You spun around within his hold, your palms slamming flat against his broad chest as he pulled your lower body flush against his. Your fingers traced a path up his warm skin, over his heavy shoulders, until you wrapped your hands securely around his nape. You rose up on your tiptoes, nuzzling your cheek affectionately against the soft skin of his neck. His hands tightened around your waist, squeezing you so hard your breath hitched.

“Neteyam...” you mumbled, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. The nervous, hesitant girl was long gone; your gaze was clear, filled with a, solid certainty. You smiled up at him, your hand lifting to gently cup his strong jawline. “I am accepting you. As my mate.”

Neteyam’s smile slowly dropped, and you know by now that it happens when he’s too happy to actually smile. He froze entirely, his breath catching in his throat. He looked down at you, his mind spinning so violently he didn't know whether to crush you in a hug or kiss you hard. He felt like he was floating, experiencing the sensation of flying without ever leaving the ground.

Seeing him completely paralyzed, you took the initiative. You leaned up and pressed your lips softly against his and feeling a violent shudder racked his entire frame at the contact. His hands tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as if to convince himself you were real. He didn't move his head, completely overwhelmed, allowing you to explore his mouth with little, innocent pecks and soft, testing presses, your head angling as your hands held his face.

But then you pulled away, your wide eyes peering up at him in slight confusion. "Don’t you... like to kiss me?”

And just like that, you seemed to have flipped a switch inside him.

A low, guttural growl tore from his throat. His hand came up, his long fingers tangling into the auburn hair at the back of your head, and he leaned down, crushing his mouth against yours thoroughly.

He was like a parched man who had finally found water after a lifetime in the desert, or a drowning man who had just broke the surface for air. He kissed you with a fierce hunger, his tongue sliding past your lips, claiming your mouth like he had wanted nothing else but do this.

You loved it. You loved witnessing the perfect, disciplined soldier completely come undone in your hands.

“Touch me...” you managed to gasp out against his lips, the words swallowed by another searing, wet kiss.

The command sent an electric shock straight through him. His hands abandoned your waist, moving down your body with a heavy, desperate heat. He touched and squeezed the places he had starved himself of looking at for months. His large palm cupped the curves of your breasts, slid down the dip of your waist, and gripped your firm thighs, pulling you so hard against his groin you could feel the rigid proof of his arousal.

You moaned loudly into his mouth, your head falling back as his kisses trailed down your jawline, burying into the sensitive hollow of your neck. You arched your spine, giving him total access, your hands cradling the back of his head as he licked and bit gently at your skin.

“Neteyam...” you whimpered, your body trembling with a sudden, beautiful fright.

“Stop?” he gasped out, his voice thick and rough with heavy arousal as he pulled back a fraction, his golden eyes wide and dark.

You shook your head frantically. “No. I don’t want you to stop. Please...”

You pulled his head back down, but instead of your mouth, his lips traveled lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat until they reached where the swell of your breasts started.

Your back arched instinctively, your breath hitching as you reached behind you, your trembling hands unclasping the fiber bindings. Neteyam’s hand on your waist tightened to a desperate grip, his eyes looking up at you in silent, burning question. You didn't say a word, you simply let the top fall, and the soft, woven fibers grazed his abdomen as they slid down between you.

His gaze fell on your bare breasts, the freckles on your skin glowing like stars. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his chest heaving.

You angled your face down, capturing his lips just once more, a soft, reassuring press. “It’s yours, Neteyam...” you whispered against his mouth. “I’m all yours.”

A ragged groan escaped him, and you chuckled softly as a massive shudder shook his frame. He leaned down, his mouth opening wide as he took one of your peaks between his lips, his tongue swirling tightly around the pebbled tip.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his arms as he began to suckle, his other hand moving to heavily fondle and squeeze your other breast. The sensation was overwhelming and a hot, liquid coil tightened deep in your belly as he indulged himself, suckling your breasts as if he could get sustenance from it.

Before your knees could completely give out, Neteyam stepped you backward. You pulled him down with you onto the mossy bank of the river, laying back so he'd follow, your long auburn hair fanning out around your face like a halo of dark fire against the glowing moss. Neteyam followed you down, hovering over you, his massive body casting a shadow that entirely shielded you. He looked down at you, watching you breathe heavily, your eyes dark with desire and completely free of fear, and his breath hitched.

This was the image that had haunted his every fantasy.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the heated look in his eyes. You’ve spent the last years feeling disgusted over the way men would look at you, but now, your excitement was suffocating you, and as Neteyam looked down at the open, fearless surrender in your golden eyes, a sudden wave of fierce reverence slowed him down.

Your fingers slid from his shoulders to wrap around his nape, your fingers caressing the kuru at the base of his head. That is one difference he had. Yours start at the center top of your head, like the usual Na’vi. At your touch, his control fractured completely. He groaned your name, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as his lips came back down to yours. Your hand cupped his face as he kissed you deeply. It wasn’t gentle at all, it was wet and heavy with unspoken desperation. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting the sweetness of your gasps, while his large hands slid down your sides.

He gripped your waist, his calloused palms bruisingly tight against your skin as he pulled your lower body up, pressing his rigid length firmly against your center through the thin barrier of both your loinclothes. You let out a broken moan into his mouth, tilting your pelvis instinctively to meet his weight.

Your move made him shudder violently, his hands moving to your back, his fingers untying the soft fibers around your tail and pulling the garment away, leaving you entirely bare beneath him. He shifted, his heavy thigh sliding between yours, forcing your legs wide apart and you bit your lip when the cool air hit your slick center, but it was immediately covered when he leaned down, his mouth abandoning your lips to bite gently at the junction where your neck met your shoulder, making your toes curl.

His hand slid down your abdomen and you caught your breath, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging into the hard muscles of his spine as his fingers finally found you. He was gentle at first, his thumb finding the swollen nub of your desire, parting you to find the slick heat you were offering him. A loud whimper tore from your throat as he began to move his fingers, tracing your slit, coating his hand in your moisture.

“Neteyam... please,” you gasped, your hips lifting off the ground, seeking more of the agonizing friction. Your trembling hands reached behind him, frantically discarding his loincloth until there was nothing left between you but the heat of your skin.

“I got you,” he growled against your ear, his voice thick and low, completely unraveled by how wet and ready you were for him. “Look at me, baby.”

You forced your heavy eyelids open. Through the dark, his golden eyes were burning, completely fixed on your face. He wanted to see every expression, to know that every sensation you felt was because of him. He reached behind his back, bringing his kuru in front of you. Your eyes snapped up to him.

“Neteyam...” your hand came up to hold his.

His head tilted. “We won’t do it... Without this.”

You licked your lips wet, reaching behind you, and you saw the relief on his face. You brought it between you and his hand moved to press the pink tendrils of his kuru to yours, and you gasped from the jolt it gave you before the surge of his emotions rushed through the bond. You basked jn the warmth of it, the fierce love and protectiveness he holds for you, and the extreme attraction that brought heat to your cheeks.

“You like me...“ you smiled up at him, chuckling.

“Like?” He huffed. “Baby, I love you. Can you feel it?” he asked, his hand squeezing your waist.

You nodded. “I love you, Neteyam...” you whispered. “And I mean... You like me... Like this...”

He raised his brow, his eyes holding yours but you felt his hand on your breast, his thumb brushing the pebbled tip, making you squirm. “Yeah...” he mumbled, his gaze falling down on hand on your breast. “I’ve fantasized about this a lot... You under me,” his eyes snapped back up to yours. “Does that bother you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, your body shivering with electric excitement. “No,” you mumbled, craning your head to kiss him. “It makes me... excited.“

He smiled, his hand squeezing your breast before he leaned down to kiss you. “Tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable,“ he whispered, pressing quick kisses on your lips. “Promise me?”

You nodded frantically. “I promise,” you said impatiently.

He chuckled, kissing you as he positioned himself against you. You forgot to look between you earlier, and now, you could only imagine what he looked like as the tip of his length pressing against your slick entrance. You watched Neteyam’s jaw lock so tight the muscles jumped, his entire body rigid as he held himself back, waiting for you to breathe.

“Yes?“ he rasped, his hips twitching slightly with the desperate urge to bury himself inside you.

“Now, Neteyam,” you whispered, your hands moving down to grip his hips, pulling him down.

He pushed into you, and you bit your lip as his sharp fullness stretched you open, a gasp escaping your lips. You could tell he was large, and although you were so wet, he was still stretching your walls to their absolute limit. Neteyam groaned, forcing himself to stop halfway when he felt your slight resistance. He buried his face in your neck, his chest heaving against your bare breasts as he waited for you to adjust to him.

You kissed the shell of his ear, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, locking him in, and arched your back to pull him the rest of the way in, letting out a sharp moan as his cock filled you to the brim. Neteyam let out a groan of pure pleasure from being completely surrounded by your tight, throbbing heat. The sensation was so intense his vision blurred.

You clenched around him, finding the stretch so good. He began to move, pulling back slowly before driving deep into you, his large hands anchoring beneath your hips to lift you into his powerful thrusts. The pace was primal and heavy, and every time his hips slam against yours, a moan broke from your lips, echoing softly along with his grunts.

You lost yourself in the sensation, your brain zeroing in to the feel of his calloused hands gripping your waist, the weight of his chest pressing against your breasts, and the blinding friction of him filling you completely. You fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his face down to yours so you could drink his ragged breaths.

Neteyam was entirely possessed. He increased the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, driven by the way your inner muscles were clamping down tightly around him with every thrust. He felt the tremors starting in your thighs, and the way your breaths were turning into short, frantic pants.

“Neteyam, I—I can't...” you cried out, your head tossing back against the moss as a sudden, intense wave of electricity coiled tight in your lower belly.

“A little more, baby,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming punishingly fast, driving deeper.

A loud cry tore from your throat as your core convulsed, clamping down around him in tight, violent ripples. Your pleasure was the final blow to his control, letting out a guttural groan, his hips driving all the way into you, spilling himself deep inside you, his entire body stiffening as he shook with the force of his own climax.

He collapsed forward, his heavy weight burying you into the moss, his nose digging into your neck. You both lay there for a long time, the only sound being your heavy, desperate gasps and the synchronized beating of your hearts. Slowly, Neteyam shifted, lifting his head to look at you. His golden eyes were soft now, the dangerous hunger gone, replaced by an overwhelming devotion. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your swollen lips.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered against your lips, his hand gently smoothing the damp auburn hair away from your face.

You caressed his damp chest, nodding. “Why do you call me baby?” you asked, already too curious since earlier, you just didn’t want to ruin the moment.

He chuckled, his face falling against yours. “It’s just an endearmemt... In the human tongue. It means... you’re my baby. I will love you and protect you, and the children we will have. I will never let you get hurt again, I promise.” he said in a low voice, kissing your lips softly.

You smile widened, your eyes burning with hot tears. You were about to ponder on how far you have come, but then you got distracted by the thought of children. “Will this get me pregnant?” you asked.

He blinked, looking to the side. “I... Well, that I don’t know... I haven’t...”

You watched him as he scratched his temple, struggling to answer.

“Maybe, if we’re lucky. Do you want to?” he asked instead.

“I should like to enjoy with just us two... But if I do get pregnant, then I will be really happy,” you mused, kissing him.

“We will do what you want...” he mumbled, kissing your jaw softly. “And in truth, I want you to first enjoy not having to work yourself too much for a long while. I imagine babies would be a lot of work... and I want you to just rest and know yourself more before we get to that.”

Your smile widened at his words, the warmth of his promise soaking into your skin. You leaned up to give him one more gentle press of your lips, sealing the quiet pact of the life you were going to build together. Your lovemaking was followed by another, and another, another until you’ve fallen asleep with a soft, dreamy haze in your mind. Neteyam refused to untangle himself from you, wrapping his large, muscular frame around your body, warming you from the cold.

When the first light of dawn slipped through the canopy, Neteyam gently nudged you awake with soft kisses along your jawline, making you snuggle closer to him. You both washed in the cool water of the river, the playful touches never ceasing that you probably spent so much time there, just fooling around. After getting dressed, you called for your mounts and took flight into the morning sky, your purple ikran soaring alongside his. You caught Neteyam looking at you, his eyes burning with the proud, fierce light of a man who had finally claimed his match.

You angled your beasts toward the massive structure of Hometree, landing smoothly on the high, sweeping branches of the roost. But the moment your feet touched the platform, the sight of Lo’ak and Spider standing there, their expressions unusually grim, filled you with tension.

“What is it?“ Neteyam asked him.

“Uh... Well, we’ve got a situation downstairs. Her... Her uncle is at the clearing. I swear, I wanted to send him away, but Dad said we need to wait for what she has to say, so...”

Neteyam’s ears instantly flattened against his head, his posture shifting into that of a warrior ready to strike. You blinked, expecting that you’ll feel the usual fear that eats at you... But no. You felt only a fire that propelled you to walk down the winding ramps toward the lower levels.

“What does he want?” Neteyam demanded, his voice a low growl as he followed you.

“He's asking around,” Spider explained, his eyes darting down the ramp. “He was asking Lo'ak and the patrols if anyone had seen his niece. He claims you went missing during the great clan gathering many moons ago. Said he’s been looking for you ever since but couldn't find you.”

Lo'ak scoffed, crossing his arms. “He came here hoping Neteyam might have seen you since my brother was particularly concerned with you that night. If it were up to me, I would've kicked his lying ass straight out of the borders last night. But Dad wanted to wait. He said it’s your choice how to handle this. But don’t worry, we didn't tell him you were actually here.“

Neteyam looked down at you, his large hand sliding down to squeeze yours, offering a steady, unwavering anchor. “You do not have to see him if you do not want to,” he murmured gently. “I can make him leave. Right now.“

You looked into Neteyam’s golden eyes. You weren't that helpless girl who just lost her family and had no one anymore. “No,” you said firmly, your voice steadying. “I want to face him.”

You continued walking down into the wide, communal clearing, and saw Ka’lu standing near the center, visibly haggard, surrounded by warriors who hadn't let him out of their sight the entire time. Jake and Neytiri stood a few paces back, watching with detached expressions.

As you stepped into the firelight of the clearing, Ka’lu’s head snapped up. His eyes widened at the sight of you, his gaze immediately piercing behind you, locking onto Neteyam, who was walking a half-step behind you like an immovable shadow.

Ka’lu cried out your name, taking a frantic step forward before a warrior's spear dropped to bar his path. He threw his hands up, his face contorting into a mask of grand, dramatic relief. “Oh, thank the Great Mother! I have spent the past moons in absolute agony, dying of worry that something terrible had happened to you! If I had only known earlier that Neteyam had rescued you, I would have come to this clan much sooner—“

You stopped a few paces away, your expression cold. “To do what?“ you asked, your voice cutting through his performance. “Bring me to Mokri?”

Ka’lu froze, his mouth hanging open for a fraction of a second, completely speechless. He stammered, shaking his head rapidly. “No! No, of course not! How can you think that? I would have come to get you back, to protect you! I would not give you to him!”

Your eyes narrowed, the memory of that horrible night flooding back, but this time, it didn't break you. “But you were offering me to him that night like a piece of meat, weren't you, uncle? You told me... that if he chooses to mount me, I should just give in to what he wanted. You told me I should do whatever he wants. You even said that if he killed me for daring to answer Neteyam, I should just accept it. You said that, didn't you, uncle?”

Neteyam shifted. He had never heard of this before, and a low hiss of anger and rippled through him. Jake’s eyes darkened completely, and Neytiri’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, watching Ka’lu’s face turn pale, the words dying in his throat. He looked around frantically, realizing he had lost the crowd entirely. Still, his desperation pushed him to try one last lie.

“Things... things are different now, Y/N! I swear it! You no longer need to rely on the charity and shelter of the Omatikaya. I have found a better, safer place for us two to live. We can leave right now—“

“She is not going anywhere with you,” Neteyam interrupted.

He stepped fully in front of you, his towering, broad frame completely blocking Ka’lu from your sight. He drew himself up to his full, imposing height as he leveled a look of pure, unadulterated lethal intent at the older male.

“She does not need your shelter,” Neteyam barked, his voice booming across the clearing. “She is my mate.”

Ka’lu staggered back a step, utterly shocked. He blinked, looking from Neteyam’s fierce expression to you, who stood behind him, not knowing just how far his audacity actually reaches. A sickening smile attempted to re-form on his face.

“Your... your mate? My niece?” Ka’lu breathed, his face obvious calculating the political advantage. How had he not thought of this before? If he had known the possibility of Neteyam falling for your charms, he would have gone that route instead of toiling to bring you back to Mokri! “Well... that is wonderful news! Truly great! And in that case... as her only remaining family, perhaps I could stay... here?”

You recoiled in absolute disgust, a heavy weight of disbelief settling over you. The man truly had no shame.

Neteyam kept his deadly focus entirly on Ka’lu, but his hand reached and found yours,  giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “The choice is yours, baby,” he said softly. “I will do whatever your decision is.“

You stepped out from behind Neteyam’s shoulder, looking directly at Ka’lu. “I do not want him to stay,” you decided, your voice ringing clear and absolute. “You are not my uncle, Ka'lu. You said so yourself that night. It is better if we part ways now. Permanently.”

Neteyam nodded once. He took another terrifying step toward Ka’lu, his ears pinning back completely as a low, feral snarl vibrated in his throat.

“You heard her. Go,” Neteyam threatened, his voice dropping into a low growl that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Turn around and walk out of our lands. You should be glad I am letting you leave with your life, because all I want to do right now is tear your throat out with my bare hands. Never show your face near the Omatikaya again. Because if I ever see you on our territory, I will do exactly what I want to do.”

Ka’lu didn't need to be told again. Terror finally overtook his greed, tripping over his own feet as he turned. The warriors led him out and they reported how he practically fled oit into the brush in haste.

The moment you heard that, the immense tension drained from your body. Your legs suddenly felt incredibly shaky, the emotional exhaustion of finally closing that dark chapter hitting you all at once. Neteyam turned instantly, catching you before you could falter, pulling you tightly against his chest and pressing a warm kiss to your temple. You breathed a massive, ragged huff of relief against his skin.

“Wait,” Lo’ak’s voice suddenly broke through the quiet. “Is that actually true? You two are... mated now?”

Neteyam kept his arm securely wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. He looked at his brother, then up at his parents, before offering a firm, incredibly proud nod. “We are. She accepted me as her mate last night.”

Lo’ak gasped, his jaw practically hitting the floor. “And what? You guys just... mated? Right away? Last night? No ceremonies, no clan blessing, no nothing?”

Before Neteyam could defend himself, a dry, raspy chuckle echoed from the edge of the clearing. It was Mo’at, her eyes twinkling with immense satisfaction. “Well,” the Tsahik mused, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “He is his parents’ son, after all.”

Jake instantly burst into a loud laugh before quickly catching himself and covering it with a loud cough. Neytiri’s ears twitched with a dark violet blush, and she quickly looked away. You looked up at Neteyam, your brow furrowing in genuine, innocent confusion at the inside joke, your eyes silently questioning what the Tsahik meant.

Neteyam looked down at you, the warrior entirely vanishing, replaced by the man who was hopelessly, deeply in love with you. He let out a soft chuckle, leaning down to press a swift, affectionate kiss right to the tip of your nose.

“I’ll tell you later, nosy girl,” he mumbled against your skin, pulling you close as the clearing filled with the warm, welcoming laughter of his family.

[6okuto-moved-deactivated2025080]

"i miss him" says girl about the fictional guy she thinks about every hour of every day

[nattikay]

stingy with mama's kisses

[neteyamthinker]

oh he’s cutest boy in the worlddd

[neteyamthinker]

it was you

pairings aged-up neteyam x na’vi!female reader

notes arranged marriage, fated mates, hidden identity, mentions of toxic gender roles, mentions of revenge, doting husband neteyam, smut (p in v), oral (f&m receiving)

synopsis you had spent your whole life longing for a path that was yours to lead, yet even the choice of who to mate with was stolen from you, when you were told about a betrothal your father had engineered with the son of toruk makto.

word count 18.7k

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The morning mist of the rainforest on this part of Eywa’eveng smelled just the same to Neteyam, like damp moss and the faint aroma of blooming orchids. But he knew that this was no ordinary forest. He’s heard many tales about this one, and how on certain seasons, the sun chooses not to grace it with light.

It makes no wonder to him how tales about the most fearsome creatures are tied to the name of the clan that inhabits these lands.

Neteyam shifted his weight, keeping his breathing steady as he surveyed the unfamiliar terrain. The Omatikaya delegation, led by his parents, had paused further back to let the scouts clear the path, but Neteyam had wandered slightly ahead toward the sound of rushing water.

But he didn't expect the forest to turn hostile so quickly.

He had barely just registered the clicking sound through the budge, but before he could even unsheath his knife, he was already seeing multiple strange creatures lunging for him. They were fast, with segmented limbs and jaws meant for crushing bone. They were the creatures who could swallow an adult Na’vi whole that his father’s scouts had warned them about.

Neteyam cursed under his breath. Unarmed save for his hunting knife, he ducked beneath a snapping jaw, grabbed a fallen, heavy branch and swung with all the force he could muster. The wood hit the creature with a crack, sending it flying yards away into the underbrush. But three more took its place, circling him, eyes gleaming with hunger.

Then, a familiar sound sliced through the chaos. An arrow pierced the eye of the creature, making it collapse instantly.

Neteyam blinked, snapping his head toward the ridge. Emerging from the mist was a rider on a direhorse, shrouded in a dark, heavy cloak. The figure moved with a fluid grace, guiding the mount while drawing another arrow. Two more of the beasts dropped.

When the remaining creatures swarmed, the rider drove the direhorse straight into the fray. As the animal leapt on a fallen log, the rider leaned off the side, pulling a blade and in one seamless motion, they sliced the throat of a leaping beast before landing perfectly back on the mount.

Neteyam stood frozen, a rare awe washing over him. The archery was flawless, the knife-work lethal, and the horsemanship... he had never seen anyone, not even the finest Omatikaya hunters, shoot a moving target from a galloping direhorse with that kind of precision.

The last of the beasts scattered into the jungle and he heard an anguished sound escape the rider. He immediately stepped forward, raising a hand in peace, his eyes locked on the rider’s back. “Warrior,” he began, his voice deep and breathless. “Thank you. I have never seen—”

“Do not thank me,” a voice hissed from beneath the hood. It was sharp, fierce, and distinctly female. “Do not wander around these lands again.”

Before Neteyam could even speak again, she wheeled her direhorse around and with a sharp kick, the beast galloped into the thick fog, leaving Neteyam standing by the waterfall, completely captivated by the ghost who had just saved his life.

As he watched the silhouette of the direhorse fade, the urge to give chase came both suddenly and too late. He wished he had brought his direhorse with him when he wandered... He tilted his head. Why? What will you do? he asked himself. He knew the answer. He would have followed her.

You took a sharp turn, pulling your direhorse’s reins to a full stop before you quickly dismounted. Your heart was still hammering against your ribs from what you thought would be an uneventful patrol. You had wounded and killed many creatures, though deadly and ferocious, they were still creations of the Great Mother.

You couldn’t help but look at the path leading back to where it happened, remembering how the man had called you warrior. It felt like a title stolen from a forbidden dream. No woman in your clan had ever been called one, for no woman was allowed to be. Your people placed a great belief in their men, taking pride in the fact that your clan had only ever produced male warriors and hunters, and how they protected the people from the horrors of the forest.

The wet leaves brushed against your shins as you led your direhorse to a hidden clearing, the silence of the forest doing little to calm your racing thoughts. If your father or mother ever discovered what you had done today, that you had picked up a bow or spilled blood, you didn't know what would happen to you.

In your clan, women were only ever allowed to be healers, cooks, weavers, wives, and mothers. These were sacred duties, and the elders firmly believed that such roles should never be tainted by blood and violence. You sighed heavily, quickly shoving your longbow and quiver into a hollowed-out tree trunk, covering it with ferns. You were pulling at the hood of your cloak when you heard leaves cracking behind you.

“You're late,” a voice sounded urgently.

You spun around to see Tarkul stepping out from the shadows. Your best friend, the clan’s youngest marksman and the only man who looked at you and saw a peer instead of a prize, looked pale. His eyes were wide with anxiety.

“Tarkul? What is it? I just did a patrol—”

“You need to leave. Right now,” Tarkul interrupted, grabbing your shoulders. “Your father... I overheard them. The Omatikaya are coming today—”

“I know that. Father told us to prepare,” you said.

“Yes, yes, they will come, but it wasn’t just for a regular treaty between alliances. Y/N, he has pledged you.”

Your head tilted back in surprise. “Pledged how?”

“He offered you to the firstborn son of Toruk Makto. That Neteyam,” Tarkul spat the name, his grip tightening. “An alliance sealed on your sacrifice. Your father is giving you away like property to ensure the Omatikaya’s loyalty. Your father’s warriors are already looking for you to prepare you for the arrival.”

Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your chest. Your father had spent your entire life treating you and your sisters like a curse. A disappointment because you weren't sons to carry on his warrior lineage. And now, he was using you as a political pawn, reducing you to a broodmare for a strong alliance.

“No,” you whispered, fury igniting in your veins. “No! I will not let him do this. I am not a prize to be traded!”

“Then we run,” Tarkul said, stepping back and whistling for his direhorse. “We’ll go east. They won't find us.”

You scrambled onto your direhorse, your mind a blur of rebellion and fear. You tore through the underbrush with Tarkul right beside you, heading for the boundary line. Freedom was just past the tree line when a familiar sound sliced through the thick morning air.

A whistle of an arrow and Tarkul cried out as a blunt-tipped slammed into his shoulder, knocking him clean off his mount.

“Tarkul!” you screamed, pulling back hard on the reins.

Before you could dismount, four of your father’s elite warriors emerged from the canopy, their spears leveled at you. Their faces were grim, devoid of sympathy.

“The Olo'eyktan demands your presence,” the lead warrior said coldly. “Do not make this more dishonorable than you already have.”

You were dragged back to the village in tears, screaming at them to leave Tarkul alone. In the communal longhouse, your father stood like a statue of stone. He had never looked at you with wamrth, but the stern disappointment on his face as he lectured you about duty, the survival of the clan, and honor still felt like whips on your skin. To him, your tears were just a childish tantrum.

The transition between his scolding to your mother and her ladies moving around you in a flurry of hushed, anxious whispers felt like a nightmare blurring into reality. They bathed you in heavy, floral-scented water that smelled of sweet orchids. They brushed out your long hair, braiding the sides intricately but leaving the rest to fall in a sleek, beautiful half-up ponytail.

They dressed you in the finest loincloth and a matching top made of delicate beads. You felt exposed. Naked. Stripped of the cloak and weapons that made you feel safe.

“He is a great warrior, daughter,” your mother murmured, trying to soothe you as she adjusted the choker around your throat. “They say this Neteyam helped his parents take down the sky people when he was just a boy. He is disciplined. Respectful.”

You kept your gaze locked on the floor, your jaw clenched. You didn't care about his prowess. You hated him on principle.

“And his mother,” one of elder women whispered in awe. “Neytiri. She is a warror who rode into battle alongside her mate, Toruk Makto.”

That detail struck a chord deep inside you. A female warrior. A woman allowed to bleed and fight for her people, recognized by Toruk Makto himself as an equal. A bitter spark of hope flared in your chest, only to be crushed by the reality of your own situation.

“What an accomplished family, then,” your eyes snapped up to your mother. “You’re expecting a man raised by Toruk Makto and his warrior wife to look at our clan, a clan that doesn’t even allow its women to hold a knife; to look at me... and see a mate? Father said he has rejected every other chieftain's daughter before this.”

Your mother’s eyes hardened at the same time the older women around her froze at your boldness. “You are a proficient healer and weaver, daughter. Do not underestimate our clan,” she said in a hiss.

So, not his equal, your brow raised in a protest you chose not to voice out.

A horn blew at the entrance of the village, signalling that the guests had arrived.

Your mother took your trembling hands, her eyes pleading. “Smile, my daughter. Walk with dignity.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding slowly. You stepped out of the tent, walking a few paces behind your father as he went to greet the legendary Jake Sully.

As the Omatikaya delegation walked into the central clearing, your eyes scanned the crowd. There was Toruk Makto, and beside him, his fierce mate, Neytiri. And right behind them walked their eldest son.

Your breath hitched.

The initial shock threatened to paralyze you. Your fingers dug into your palm, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. It was him. The reckless, broad-shouldered warrior who had nearly been swallowed whole by the forest's demons. His long braids and cummerbund were now flawless, as though he had not faced a grave morning.

As the Omatikaya delegation drew closer, you forced your features into a mask of perfect, passive composure. You lowered your chin, casting your gaze downward just as the women of your clan were taught to do. You were sure he didn’t see your face, because if he recognized you, everything would be forfeit. You are not certain what they would have done to Tarkul, the person who taught you everything you know.

Neteyam’s eyes swept over the welcoming committee, lingering on you. Jake had told him beforehand that the Olo’eyktan of this clan had also pledged his daughter to him, and although he’d had enough of all these unnecessary offerings of maiden daughters simply for alliances, he found himself thinking that he might actually entertain this outdated idea if this was the lady.

He waited for you to lift your eyes up, but your head remained bowed, the image of a delicate, heavily beaded prize meant to seal a treaty. A faint feeling of disappointment flickered across his regal face, and he fell into step behind his parents, his posture rigid and distant as they walked past to finally greet your father and mother.

Finally, you lifted your head a little, only to train your sharp eyes on his broad back. Good, you thought triumphantly. Be disappointed.

The welcoming feast in the communal longhouse was a suffocating affair. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, sweet root brews, and the underlying tension of two vastly different cultures trying to find common ground.

You sat precisely where your father had commanded: a step below him, off to the side, acting as the perfect daughter. You kept your shoulders hunched, your hands folded neatly in your lap, and your eyes trained strictly on the woven mat beneath you. You played the part of the timid, submissive maiden to perfection. You wanted to ick him. You wanted this celebrated warrior to find you so utterly dull, so hopelessly meek, that he would do what he had done to every other chieftain's daughter before you: refuse the match.

Across the fire, Neteyam sat beside his mother, Neytiri. He was polite, offering respectful nods to your father’s boasts, but his energy was entirely checked out. During a lull in the drumming, you allowed yourself a single, brief moment of weakness. You peered through the thick fringe of your lashes, tracking the movement of his hands.

Neteyam was lifting a carved cup of brew to his lips. But he wasn't looking at his drink. His intense gaze was locked entirely on you. A heavy, consuming stare of a hunter tracking each and every move the prey does. It was a man’s look, raw and focused, and to your utter fury, you didn't feel degraded by it. Instead, a sudden, treacherous spark of excitement flared deep in your belly, the thrilling realization that despite your best efforts to be as dull as you could, you had his undivided attention.

Annoyed at yourself, your perfect act slipped.

Your jaw clenched and you leveled a sharp glare straight at him, smoothly rolling your eyes before snapping your gaze back down to your untouched food. Across the fire, Neteyam choked slightly on his brew. His eyes widened in genuine surprise, a sudden smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at the realization that timid little ikran still had talons after all. He put his cup of brew down as he watched you slip back into your perfectly meek facade.

The traditional flutes began to play, signaling a time for the young people to mingle. You moved to stand up, and your eyes snapped up in front of when you saw the large figure moving to stand up, too. Your eyes locked with his, and for some reason, you couldn't take your eyes off as he rounded the fire to get to you.

You blinked when he was standing just a few feet away, coming to a sudden awareness of how large and tall he actually was. His hand reached out, his expression a maddening mix of formal politeness and hidden amusement. You clenched your teeth, feining a tremor before you looked fearfully at your father, who was already watching breathlessly. He gave you a firm, approving nod, and you placed your hand in Neteyam's.

As he led you to the edge of the clearing where the other youth were swaying, you purposely stumbled, letting your steps be clumsy and uncoordinated. “I apologize, formal dances are... not my strength,” you whispered, pitching your voice to sound soft and fragile.

“It is quite alright,” Neteyam said, his grip on your waist firm and steady, easily correcting your forced clumsiness. “The feast is grand. Your people make a strong brew. Though, I find the forest outside your walls far more interesting.”

You stiffened slightly. “Oh?”

“Yes. It is full of... strange, ferocious creatures,” Neteyam continued, his voice dropping to a low, conversational tone as he maneuvered you through the crowd. “I ran into a pack of them near the waterfalls this morning. Miserable things. Many legs. Very fast.”

You couldn't help yourself. The hunter in you took the bait before your mind could stop it. “Those were Agtik,” you said, your voice losing its timid edge as your wide eyes looked up at his. “They don't hunt in packs unless their head is wounded. And they are apex predators. If you hit them in the hide, your arrow will just bounce off. You have to strike the eyes, or beneath the throat where the thick plates separate.”

Neteyam stopped dancing. He stared down at you, his golden eyes burning with an intense focus, and you froze, realizing you had spoken far too much.

“Is that so?” he murmured, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face as his fingers caressed the calluses on your fingers. “You seem to know a great deal about killing them...”

You quickly tore your hand from his, dropping your head back down. “I... I only know what the hunters say,” you lied breathlessly, stepping back into the crowd before he could press further.

The next morning, your mother burst into your sleeping alcove, her face flushed with excitement before the morning light even showed it. “Daughter... A betrothal has been struck. Neteyam has accepted the union. He wishes for you to return to the Omatikaya with them.”

You sat up in your woven sleeping mat, stunned. “What?!” you snapped carelessly, surprising your mother. You calmed down immediately. “That’s great...” you forced yourself to smile.

“I think he liked you last night, daughter. You were so prim and proper, a true woman of our lineage. You make me and your father proud, sweetheart,” she caressed your cheek.

You swallowed the dryness of your throat. You don't know what the man’s plan was... But he definitely didn’t like you because you were prim and proper. You looked down at your hands, hiding the calluses born from years of archery practice. Your initial shock had now faded, and a cold, calculating wave of relief washed over you. The Omatikaya. You’ve heard of their ways. In their clan, women were warriors. Neytiri rode into battle. If you went with them, you wouldn't have to hide in the shadows at dawn anymore. You could wield your bow. You could finally exist as more than what you were raised to be.

With newfound urgency, you helped your mother and sisters pack your things. When your mother turned her back, you swiftly retrieved your hidden longbow and quiver from where you had smuggled them into the yurt. You bound them tightly within your dark, heavy cloak, burying them at the absolute bottom of your deep leather travel box beneath layers of woven garments.

“I need to see Tarkul before we leave,” you muttered, heading for the exit.

“You are not permitted near the holding area,” your younger sister sneered, stepping into the yurt with her arms crossed, her eyes flashing with venom. “You should stop trying to see your lover. You are betrothed to the son of Toruk Makto now.”

“Tarkul is not my lover!” you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

“Please. You were going to run away with him yesterday,” she mocked, stepping closer. “If you hate this arrangement so much, why don't you just tell Father and back out? I can always replace you. I would gladly take your place beside Neteyam.”

“Armem, hold your tongue!” your mother’s voice barked from the entrance, sharp and commanding. “Neteyam agreed to this alliance because of Y/N. He would not accept a replacement if she backed out, and your father’s treaty would fall to ash.”

Armem huffed disdainfully, crossing her arms tighter. “Fine. But she was still ready to flee with another man. Who is to say she is even pure anymore? The Omatikaya might find they are receiving spoiled goods—”

“Armem!” your mother snapped, glaring at your sister.

“Do not speak of such nonsense,” you said coldly, staring your sister down. “Tarkul is a good friend of mine and I would not have you taint our friendship with your dirty mind.”

At dawn the next day, the Omatikaya delegation prepared to depart. You were allowed to ride your direhorse, your leather box secured to the pack beast behind you. Your parents stood at the gates of the village, offering stiff, formal nods of farewell, promising they would come for final mating ceremonies.

You didn't look back. You are leaving this clan, and those who believe in its sick ways can have the scraps that are left behind. You nudged your direhorse forward, and as the procession moved into the deep forest, a shadow fell alongside your mount. You looked up to see Neteyam riding his own direhorse beside yours. He looked at you, then down at the bulky, heavily wrapped leather box trailing behind you, a faint, amused glint in his golden eyes.

“Nice mount,“ he said jn a voice low enough so the others couldn't hear. “A lot of luggage, too, for a healer.”

You kept your eyes locked on the trail ahead, a small, defiant smirk playing on your lips. “A good healer always brings her most valuable tools, warrior.”

The journey to the Omatikaya territory took two days at most, a winding trek through ancient, massive trees that grew taller and wider than any you had ever seen in your home forest. When the delegation finally stopped in front of the largest tree you had laid your eyes on, you could barely breathe. Your lips parted as you looked up to its vast canopy.

“This is beautiful...” you murmured, craning your head to see all the huts perched on its thick branches.

“Do you have a fear of heights?” you heard a deep baritone speak and your head snapped to look at Neteyam.

He had already dismounted his direhorse and was now looking at you, his hand lazily holding his chest knife sheath. His head tilted as his eyes scanned your form on your mount before they settled on the beast. In the eyes of an outsider, like Jake and Neytiri who were now watching their son look at you as if you were the most interesting person in the bunch, this was just Neteyam staring.

But to you, it felt like he was trying to figure out where he had seen this beast. You quickly dismounted your direhorse, caressing its back as you cooed at it. “Are you excited to rest, boy? It was a long trek, I know, and you’ve gotten to rest some, but you’ve never travelled as far, haven’t you?”

Neteyam's head tilted slightly lower, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watched your interaction with the beast. “He looks sturdy enough,” he noted, his deep voice laced with amusement. “You didn't answer my question. Are you afraid of heights? Hometree is a long way up.”

“I think I can manage,” you replied softly, peering up at him through your lashes with a quick glance.

Before Neteyam could press further, Jake and Neytiri approached. Jake’s sharp eyes darted between you and the direhorse, before he gave you a welcoming nod.

“Welcome to the Omatikaya,” Jake said, his voice grounded. “It has been a long journey. Your mount will be tended to and Neteyam will show you where you can rest.”

Neytiri stayed silent, but her piercing gaze lingered on you, evaluating the way you carried yourself. She was not one to doubt her children’s decisions, especially those of her eldest son’s, but she believed that Neteyam was deciding too prematurely on this union. There were previous matches made that suited her son better... The daughters whose parents had fought alongside them during the Great War, and daughters of clans with excellent reputations.

She didn’t want to judge you based on your parents or your clan, but she thought it a bold proposition when your father pledged a daughter to her son. In all honesty, your father was at the losing end of this alliance. Your clan was the one that needed allies against aggressive clans who might challenge your strength, and your people had very little military power, given that your clan only trains men to be warriors and hunters.

She had never expected her son to agree to this, and though she saw great beauty in you, she did not think that was reason enough for him to make such a choice.

Neytiri’s scrutiny did not escape you. You have felt it even on the night of the feast, have seen it in her eyes whenever she watches you... And the weight of it felt heavy enough to compress the air in your lungs. Now that she was looking again, you offered a respectful dip of your head, but Neytiri merely nod her head slightly before turning her shoulder, her long woven cloak swaying behind her as she stepped up onto the massive roots of Hometree.

“Do not let my mother's stare unnerve you,” Neteyam murmured, stepping into your personal space so seamlessly that his tail brushed lightly against your hip.

“What stare, warrior?” you mumbled, looking at him with a schooled face.

You do not wish to acknowledge Neytiri’s apparent dislike of you. You are going to earn your place even if she looks at you as if I have already failed a test. You know you haven’t really failed yet, because if she truly disapproved, you wouldn't even be standing here right now.

Neteyam shook his head, an amused smile lingering on his lips. “Come, then. Let’s see what you can manage.”

You pushed your lips forward, matching his pace as everyone began the long, winding ascent into the heart of the great tree. Up ahead, Jake paused on a wide branch platform, looking back down at the two of you with a knowing understanding. He, better than anyone, knew what it was like to be an outsider standing under the heavy judgment of the people.

As you rounded the final bend of the spiral pathway, the quiet atmosphere of the lower trunks gave way to sudden burst of light and noise. Your lips parted as your eyes wandered around the surrounding kelku structures and the sheer scale of the place took your breath away again. It was vast, so open and vibrant that it was a staggering contrast to the dim, claustrophobic atmosphere of your birth clan.

Dozens of people paused in their daily routines, their eyes instantly locking onto you. A heavy murmur rippled through the crowd and it was obvious that they know what you came here for.

“Neteyam!” a high-pitched voice squealed.

Before you could fully process everything you are seeing, a blur of energy came hurtling down a nearby woven walkway. A little girl crashed straight into Neteyam’s side, wrapping her small arms around his waist. “You're back!” the girl cheered, her bright eyes quickly darting up to look at you with unabashed curiosity. “Is this her? Did you finally choose a wife?!”

Neteyam’s ears twitched with slight embarrassment as he gently pried his little sister off his hip, placing a grounding hand on her shoulder. “Tuk, mind your manners. She is our guest.”

He introduced you to the little girl who had a bright smile for you, and suddenly, you felt the welcoming warmth you didn’t know you were looking for. Tuk walked with you two when Neteyam led you to the small kelku you were assigned, it was tucked into a quiet, upper tier of the village.

As you settled in over the next few days, you quickly realized that your new betrothed was an incredibly important figure here. Neteyam, as the Olo'eyktan's firstborn, was also his father's second-in-command, deeply involved in the daily strategy, security, and leadership of the clan.

Honestly, you secretly celebrated this fact. You figured his high status meant he would be far too busy to pay much attention to you, leaving you plenty of free time to slip away, unpack your hidden longbow, and explore the surrounding wilderness on your own.

You were wrong.

Before the sun had even fully risen on your third morning, you pulled back the woven flap to find Neteyam standing there, the early dawn light catching the beads in his long braids.

Your brows furrowed. “What are you... doing here?” you started your question hard, but catching yourself, you quickly softened your voice.

“I came to show you around,” he told you, his voice low and his eyes holding that same perceptive, curious glint from the feast, causing your cheeks to burn unbidden.

The crease on your forehead deepened, once again annoyed at your reaction to him. You couldn't find a reason to say no, and frankly, you were eager to see the layout of the village. As he led you through the pathways, he dutifully showed you the areas where the weavers worked their intricate looms, the communal hearths where the cooks prepared the daily catch, and the shaded pavillions of the healers. You played your part, nodding submissively and murmuring soft, polite words of appreciation.

But your true nature betrayed you when he led you past the training grounds.

You froze, your eyes widening in absolute awe. In the center of the clearing, young girls were standing in neat rows, laughing and competing as they drew bows and aimed at distant targets. Further back, older women warriors, some scarred from battle, were casually conversing with male hunters, checking their gear as equals before setting out on a scout.

You stared, your breath catching in your throat. It was a sight stolen directly from your wildest, forbidden dreams.

Neteyam paused, watching your face carefully. He didn't miss the way your jaw slackened, or how your fingers twitched at your side, instinctively mimicking the grip of a bowstring. His head tilted, a quiet, knowing smile tugged at his lips, but he said nothing, and when you turned to him, your talons subtly showed with your furrowed brows and sharp gaze, pretending you were not that amazed to the reality of a world where women were allowed to fight.

The days bled into one another until the day of the mating ceremony arrived. True to their word, your parents and a small entourage from your clan arrived, their faces proud and grim, and somehow, you felt ashamed at this. You know, that for the Omatikaya, this match felt less like a joining of two proud people and more like a political rescue mission. Neteyam was a prize, the future Olo'eyktan of a legendary clan who fought and defeated the demons who tried to seize Eywa’eveng for themselves.

And your father merely offered you up to secure a shield of Omatikaya warriors for his vulnerable borders. It was a cause of wonder why Neteyam agreed at all. Even you don’t understand.

The ceremony took place deep within the glow of the Tree of Souls. Even their sacred tree was breathtaking, its luminous, cascading tendrils rivaling the ancient, holy tree of your own homeland. The Omatikaya people gathered in a massive circle, their voices rising in a powerful, harmonic chant alongside the drums and flutes.

You were dressed in the finest Omatikaya fibers, your torso adorned with a stunning, intricately beaded top made of iridescent beads. Your long hair had been styled into a complex array of braids that cascaded down your back. As the chanting reached its peak, you and Neteyam knelt together beneath the glowing tendrils of the tree.

Neteyam turned to you. His large, warm hand reached out to gently cup your jawline. He leaned in, his forehead pressing firmly against yours in a quiet act of intimacy that seemed to shut out the noise around you two. His other hand reached for his kuru, bringing it forward and you did the same. He didn't waste another second to intertwine your kuru with his, as though he had no hesitation at all. Your entire body jolted. A sudden, overwhelming surge of raw energy and emotion flooded your consciousness as your body, mind, and soul  locked into a deep, profound bond.

It was a sensory overload. There were visions, feelings, and memories rushing between you like a bursting dam.

Through the bond, you caught a sudden glimpse of his past. You felt the crushing weight of his responsibilities, the fierce love he had for his family, and the desperate, bloody battles against the sky demons. But then, a sharp, cold spike of terror and pain ripped through the connection.

You saw a flash of yellow light, heard the deafening screams of Neytiri, and felt the agonizing sensation of a bullet tearing through his chest.

He had nearly died.

Your eyes snapped open, your breath escaping you in a sharp, panicked huff. Blinded by a sudden, fierce protectiveness you didn't fully understand, your hand flew to his bare chest, your palm pressing flat against the scar on the left part of his chest.

Neteyam's eyes opened, burning darkly as he gazed down at your hand on his chest. He felt the sudden spike of your fear through the bond and somehow, he had forgotten what he felt during that moment. The only feeling that mattered was your fear for him and the surge of strength you sent him. Without a word, he tilted your head up, his lips catching yours in a deep kiss.

Your heart hammered as you kissed him back, your fingers sliding up the smooth skin of his chest, tracing the line of his collarbone up to his broad shoulder, letting him deepen the kiss and consume you. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his golden eyes were dark with an intense, possessive heat that made your breath hitch. The intimacy of the moment was so heavy, so entirely real, that you simply pressed your forehead back against his, trying to steady your racing pulse.

Neteyam leaned in and kissed you again, harder this time, causing your head to tilt back.

Slightly breathless, you pressed your palm firmly against his chest, gently pushing him back. “My parents are watching...” you reminded him in a hushed whisper, your cheeks flushing as you glanced toward the audience.

The Omatikaya had broken out into loud cheering and rhythmic clapping, celebrating the union. At the edge of the clearing, you caught sight of your father, his face tightly masked, while your mother looked on with a rigid smile.

The celebration back at Hometree was a raucous affair. Mo’at blessed the two of you with sacred oils, the healers chanting long prayers for fertility and strength before the feast and dancing truly began. You and Neteyam danced the mandatory mating dance, circled by couples who had been married for a very long time.

During a quiet moment in the festivities, your mother walked up to you and Neteyam to greet, but the purpose for it showed when she tried to excuse and pull you aside. Neteyam’s hold on your hand tightened, though, pulling you back to him. His eyes searched yours, and you didn't know where the sudden complete understanding of his subtle looks came from.

It was as if you have known him for so long now, you could practically read his mind. You squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile to let him know it’s okay, allowing your mother to pull you aside near the edge of the structure. “You must remember everything I taught you, daughter,” she murmured, her hands smoothing over your beaded top. “Serve him. Everything he wants to do, you will do. Tonight... You will submit to him. Do not anger a warrior of his status.”

You bit your lip, and before you could think of anything to reply, your father stepped up behind her, his posture imposing and cold. “You belong to a powerful line now. You must do with him as best as you can. Do not bring shame to my name by failing in your duties as a wife.”

You swallowed the bitter retort rising in your throat, lowering your eyes to play the part one last time. “I understand, Father.”

When you finally excused yourself to rejoin Neteyam, you found him standing near a pillar, carefully watching the interaction from afar. Your eyes snapped to Armem who was currently standing beside him, talking about something. As you approached, Armem looked at you, flashing a sly smile before she slipped away. You got distracted when you felt Neteyam’s hand reach out, his large fingers catching yours. You let him pull you to him, looking up into his face as his arms locked around you.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his eyes alert on your face.

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

His eyes were snagged behind you one last time, and you had to force yourself to not look back, knowing you’ll see your parents. Your head snapped to the dais when you heard a beautiful rhythm of the laid gongs being played. The youth who had been dancing stopped, parting into two rows to clear a path directly toward you and Neteyam, their faces splitting into knowing, mischievous grins.

“What is that?” you asked, turning back to your husband, completely bewildered by the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Neteyam glanced at you, and for the first time since you had met him, he looked entirely caught off guard. His hand came up to his face, his fingers scratching his temple awkwardly as a dark flush crept across his cheeks.

“Uh, it’s... it’s for the blessing of our kelku,” he mumbled, clearing his throat and refusing to meet your eyes for a split second.

You blinked, but before you could question his sudden bashfulness, some elder women bumped at your side and on his side were elder men. Your eyes tried to scan the crowd, but you only saw Jake Sully and Neytiri still sitting on the dais, laughing at the sight, and it was so rare it took some of your inhibitions away.

They chanted prayers for fertility and the realization hit you like a splash of cold water.

In your clan, this part was usually a cold, transactional event where the newly mated woman was practically marched to her husband's tent like a prize. But here, the Omatikaya made it a celebration of life and passion. The drumming and the crowd’s chants faded as you walked up a series of woven pathways leading to a cozy, elevated hut. Mo’at and a few elder women led the blessing of the small space.

When you two were finally left alone, your eyes snapped up to Neteyam who immediately moved to light the central hanging firepot. The kelku was modest, slightly larger than the one that had been your sanctuary in the past weeks. This was beautifully structured, just large enough for a newly married couple.

“If you have any preferences for how it should look, or if you need specific tapestries and mats,” Neteyam said, looking around, “we will go to the weavers tomorrow to get whatever you like.”

A huge smile cut through your lips, nodding. “Thank you. I would like that.”

Neteyam went quiet for a moment, his gaze turning intense as he stepped closer to you. The playful, amused glint from the feast was gone, replaced by something much deeper.

“I don’t know if you wanted me to know this... but when we did the bond...” His eyes locked onto yours, completely unblinking. “I felt it, Y/N. I felt your strong emotions against your parents... Your people. Your home. The anger you held.”

You blinked. He felt it. The same way you had seen his memories and felt all his emotions. Through the bond, both of your shields had dropped entirely. You wondered exactly how much he had seen.

“I understand why you might not have liked it there,” Neteyam continued quietly, taking a thoughtful step back. “But I thought... well, perhaps I was wrong—”

“What is it that you thought?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper as you stepped toward him, desperate to know what he had deduced.

Neteyam blinked, looking down at his hands before raising his head with a resolute expression. “It does not matter now. This is your home. My people are your people. My family is your family. Do you understand that? You do not have to think about everything you left behind.”

You tilted your head, studying the sincerity in his face, and gave a silent, genuine nod.

“And besides,” Neteyam mumbled, a sudden, boyish smirk breaking through his serious demeanor. “I have something for you.”

He turned and walked toward the shadowed back corner of the kelku, reaching behind a stack of woven mats. When he stepped back into the light, your lips parted in utter shock. In his hands, he held a beautifully crafted longbow, complete with a leather quiver full of freshly fletched arrows.

“I got it... just in case you wanted to learn how,” Neteyam said, his smile widening as he raised the bow, his eyes twinkling with a brilliant, knowing light. “And... I saw a flash of it in your memory during the bond. You were practicing this when you were young. You were doing it in secret.”

His conclusion depended solely on the emotions he felt through the bond, but he was right about that and a sudden, overwhelming surge of emotion overcame you. The sheer weight of your past, all the hiding and the fear of your father's wrath, shattered completely against the simple kindness of the man standing before you. He didn't want a submissive, silent maid. He saw your fire, and he was handing you the fuel.

Tears pooled in your eyes, blurring the sight of him. Giving up on every single act of restraint you had practiced since meeting him, you ate up the small distance between you and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.

Neteyam let out a soft, surprised breath before his large arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His hand moved up, his fingers gently caressing your long hair as he held you close.

“Thank you,” you sobbed softly into his shoulder, a genuine, radiant happiness blooming in your chest for the first time in your life. “Thank you, Neteyam...”

He held you tighter as he stroke your hair, his deep voice vibrating against your collarbone as he whispered, “I’ll be the one to teach you. We can start tomorrow.”

You bit your lip and nodded. You didn’t know how to tell him that you already know how to use this so you resolved to just tell him some other time. “Tomorrow?“ you chirped as you pulled back, your hands sliding down his arms until your fingers brushed against the smooth wood of the longbow still resting in his grip.

Gently, you took it from him and set it carefully beside your travel box, placing the weapon that symbolized your future next to the secrets of your past.

When you turned back to him, a soft, determined smile was on your face. The initial rush of your relief had quieted, leaving a heavy awareness of the space between you. The fire was casting a long, amber shadow across Neteyam’s broad shoulders and the sharp angles of his face, and your cheeks burned at how handsome he really was.

No man in your clan could have rivaled against him even if they tried. You stepped closer and his eyes dropped to the delicate river beads covering your chest, a sudden flicker of hesitation crossed his features. He remembered what he’d seen and felt through the bond. Your strong emotions against your parents and your people, the harsh words and suffocating rules. The rigid command that you must submit.

Neteyam reached out, his large hands gently catching yours, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. His eyes searched your face with an intense, fierce earnestness.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his deep baritone dropping to a rough whisper. “Listen to me. We do not need to do this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or any night soon if you are not ready.”

You blinked up at him, momentarily stunned by his restraint.

“Your parents no longer have a say on what you must do,” Neteyam continued, his jaw tightening slightly. “So, whatever yout mother told you or your father expects of you, none of that matters now. I want you to be comfortable here.”

A profound warmth bloomed in your heart, making your limbs all the way to your fingertips feel like it's made of jelly. The last lingering remnants of your defenses crumbled. This warrior, who had every right by your clan's rules to demand your compliance, was stepping back to give you a choice.

“Neteyam,” you spoke softly, your voice steady and entirely devoid of the timid persona you had faked for weeks.

You stepped into his space, breaking the distance he had purposefully created to give you room. You raised your hands, your palms pressing flat against his cheeks, your fingers sliding into the soft skin just beneath his ears. You tilted your head up, leaning in to press a lingering, warm kiss to the sharp line of his jaw, before moving to press another, softer kiss directly to his lips.

“I am not pressured,” you whispered against his mouth. You looked straight into his eyes, letting him see the fierce, unyielding certainty burning in your gaze. “And I am comfortable. I want to do this, Neteyam. I want you.”

A low, rumbling hum vibrated deep in his chest at your words. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside him. The carefully maintained restraint of a disciplined warrior giving way to the raw, possessive hunger of a man who had been captivated by you since the moment he saw you.

His hands moved to your waist, his grip tightening as he pulled you flush against his heat, his lips crashing down on yours in a deep, consuming kiss. You smiled against his lips, your fingers tangling in his long braids, the beads clicking softly. Slowly, he reached for the ties of your intricately beaded top and with a gentle pull, the garment loosened, and he caressed it off you, letting the beads click softly against the floor.

Neteyam’s breath hitched. His eyes darkened as his gaze swept over your naked upper body, tracking the elegant curve of your waist and the steady rise and fall of your chest. The raw worship in his stare made you feel powerful, completely untamed, and so excited.

His large hands slid up your ribs, his thumbs tracing the sides of your chest as he leaned down to press hot, branding kisses along your collarbone, making you gasp softly. Your hands scrambled for his own gear, your fingers working through the fastens of his intricate cummerbund. You pushed the heavy gear away, your palms immediately finding the broad, smooth expanse of his chest, tracing the jagged ridge of his scar once more before bringing your lips to his.

He gathered you into his arms, his mouth never leaving yours as his hands worked on the ties of your loincloth around your tail. He pushed the fabric off your hips, caressing your soft skin before fluidly guiding you down onto the thick, soft layers of the woven sleeping mat. The cool fiber of the mat met your back, but you barely felt it beneath the crushing, intoxicating weight of his body settling over yours.

You bit your your lip as he hovered over you, his thighs bracketing your hips. You pressed your palm against his muscled abdomen and when he took in a sharp breath through his gritted teeth, you smiled at him, moving your hand down to tug at the rim lf his loincloth.

His head tilted, “You want it off?” he asked, tugging at your hand when you nodded unabashed. “Take it off, then.”

You bit your lip before pulling yourself up, coming face to face with his chest as you did. You kissed the soft skin at the center of it before your hand circled to untie his loincloth. He lowered his head down, both of his hands cupping your face as he pressed a hard kiss on your lips.

His loincloth came off with a hiss and he gently pushed you back down on the soft mat, deepening the kiss. His hand moved from your jaw to the back of your head, gently wrapping around the thick braid of your kuru. He pulled away from the kiss to meet your eyes, bringing it between you before he grabbed his own, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation.

You moved his hands to bring the tendrils together, and the moment the tsaheylu sparked to life, a gasp caught in your throat. The overwhelming flood of energy from the Tree of Souls was replaced by something soft, intimate, and profoundly deep, like a warm wave lulling both of your consciousness into a singular, shared heartbeat.

Through the bond, you felt his absolute adoration for you. The radiant warm was so tangible you could almost touch it, and to see it reflected in his golden eyes made your eyes sting with hot tears. Neteyam let out a low growl of satisfaction through the bond, his lips catching yours again. The kiss was deeper now, amplified by the bond, every brush of his tongue and every stroke of his hands on your body echoing straight through your mind.

You kissed him back with equal fervor. His hand firmly pushed your thighs apart, fitting himself between them as his kisses trailed down your jaw and neck. You chuckled to hide a moan when his tongue traced a long stroke over the soft skin of your neck. He hummed against your skin and repeated the motion, making you arch your neck with a giggle.

He pulled back a little, his humored eyes staring into yours. “You're ticklish here...” he murmured, dipping his head to softly suck on that skin.

“Neteyam...” you pushed his head back and he chuckled, moving further down, kissing the side flesh of your breast.

You took in a sharp breath, arching your back and he enveloped its peak with the warmth of his mouth, earning him a loud moan from you. He squeezed your waist as he hummed, sucking at your flesh as he fondled the other one.

“You’re so soft, fuck...” he grunted as his lips nipped at your pebbled tip, licking his way to the other peak to give it the same attention.

You felt a warm liquid gush out of you, making you squirm under him. His hand moved from your waist to your center and the tickle caught you off guard that you bucked against his fingers. He groaned against your breast, his fingers caressing your velvety folds languidly.

“So wet...” he said in a low, gravelly voice, propping himself on one arm to hover over you again.

His knee pushed one of your thighs to the side to spread you wider as his fingers parted your folds exposing your slick heat to his gaze. He looked down at you, his gold of his eyes swallowed almost entirely by desire that made your pulse race. His face heated up when he stared down at your flush face and found your wide, trusting eyes looking back up at him. You could literally feel the heavy pulsing in the bond, telling you that he was feeling so much it was physically overwhelming him.

He bent his head, kissing you softly at fit, but it soon turned deep and hard. His mouth consumed yours, and under the cover of that distracting heat, he slid a single, long finger into your tight entrance. You gasped against his mouth, your body tightening, startled by the sudden penetration. Neteyam instantly stalled his hand. He pulled back just an inch, his eyes searching your face with fierce intensity, looking for any hint of pain or discomfort.

Instead of shrinking away, you leaned up and kissed him, your tongue boldly sliding against his to show him you were alright. A low growl vibrated in his throat, slipping a second finger into you. The sudden stretch made you bite his lower lip in a tight grip and he grunted, kissing you hard in retaliation as his fingers began to move in a slow, deep rhythm inside your slick heat.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and his other arm pulled your body completely flush against his muscled frame. The world narrowed down to the heavy friction in you and the overwhelming rush of his emotions pouring through the bond. Your kisses got sloppy and breathless as his fingers worked faster, making your hips tilt upward instinctively, your thighs quivering as the tension built.

Suddenly, Neteyam pulled his fingers away.

You let out a soft, frustrated whine, your hands immediately dropping to his wrist to pull his arm back down. “Neteyam...”

“I’ll give you something better,” he mumbled against your jaw, his breath hitching as he kissed his way down to your neck. You could feel his thick, rigid shaft resting heavily against your inner thigh, twitching with his own restrained need. He pulled back, his chest heaving as he looked down at you. “Are you sure about this, paskalin?”

You nodded quickly, reaching up to pull his head back down for a kiss, but Neteyam refused to budge. He held his ground, his face shifting into a deeply serious expression.

“I need your words,” he mumbled, his golden eyes locking onto yours.

You let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, your gaze turning just as serious, completely stripped of any games. “I am sure. I want to do this with you, Neteyam.”

The tension in his jaw broke, replaced by a dark satisfaction. He pressed a hard, bruising kiss on your lips, before his hands hooked firmly under your knees. He slowly pulled away, shifting his weight until he was kneeling directly between your spread legs.

Left exposed in the glow of the fire, you bit your lip, your eyes shamelessly tracing the powerful lines of his body. You reached a hand out, your palm sliding over his muscled abdomen again, feeling it contract beneath your fingertips. But you grew serious as soon as you felt the broad, blunt head of his shaft nudge against your warmth. You took a deep breath as he began to ease himself into you.

His thumb found the sensitive, swollen nub beneath your folds, softly and rhythmically caressing it to help him distact you. When your eyes rolled back and you helplessly bucked your hips upward to chase his thumb, Neteyam took the perfect opportunity to sink himself fully into you in one deep thrust.

A loud moan tore from your throat at the immense stretch of it, and at the exact same time, Neteyam let out a harsh, strained grunt through gritted teeth as your walls fiercely clamped and squeezed around him, resisting against his girth. He lowered his body down, desperate to soothe you with a kiss, but you were breathing in ragged, panicked breaths, your fingers digging tightly into the flesh of his back.

“Shh... baby, look at me. Breathe,” he hushed. Feeling how tightly you were gripping him, he made a slight movement to pull himself back out to give you relief, but you instantly wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, locking him in place. You hugged him closer, burying your face in his neck.

“You’re so big...” you mumbled.

Neteyam groaned, the sound vibrating against your chest as he wrapped his massive arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “Sorry...” he whispered roughly, entirely sincere.

A wet chuckle escaped your lips despite the ache. “Are you really saying sorry because you have a big di—”

“Only because it’s making you uncomfortable,” he cut you off, his voice thick with embarrassment as he pulled back slightly to look at you, his hand tenderly wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead.

“Nonsense,” you huffed, a small, defiant smirk returning to your face. “I remembered I will be pushing out babies anyway, you know? I can handle the father.”

Neteyam’s dark eyes instantly lit up, coupled with a soft smile cutting through his lips, and at the exact same moment, a massive, explosive jolt of pure, euphoric warmth shot straight through the bond, nearly making your head spin. The sheer joy of hearing you speak of a future with him, of carrying his children, completely broke the last of his restraint.

You smiled, welcoming the deep, possessive kiss he crashed down onto your lips. He began to move as he kissed you, pulling back almost entirely, before driving back into you with a firm intensity. You moaned against his lips, meeting him at his pace and welcoming every single hard, bruising thrust.

The pace grew frantic and the glow of the fire casted your joined shadows against the woven walls of your new home. His large shadow has completely enclosed you, your legs in the hair as he gripped the back of your knees tightly, pushing them up to angle you perfectly, driving deeper and deeper until he was bottoming out against your core.

The kelku was filled with slaps of your skin meeting, your ragged moans, and his deep, animalistic grunts. Through the bond, a sudden, blinding wave of heat erupted from him. Neteyam’s breath hitched, his muscles locking up hard as he let out a loud, guttural roar against your neck. He buried himself to the absolute hilt as he came deep inside you, the thick, hot rush of his seed filling your core.

Your head fell back, crying out as your own release crashed over you in violent waves, your walls squeezing him tightly. Neteyam collapsed softly over you, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck. Your own exhaustion lulled you to sleep just as Neteyam lifted his head to kiss you, making him huff in adoration as his eyes caressed your soft features.

“Out like a light,” he mumbled as he chuckled, kissing your cheek. “You’re so damn cute.”

The next day, the heavy, content silence of the morning was the first thing you registered, followed by the feeling of Neteyam’s large, muscular arm slung securely around your waist, pulling your body into a solid wall of heat that was his chest.

You shifted slightly and the gentle drag of your hair against his chin caused him to stir. Because the tsaheylu had remained connected through the night, the moment your consciousness cleared, a sudden, bright flare of pure excitement pulsed from his mind into yours. His eyes opened instantly.

“Good morning,” Neteyam murmured, his voice deep and rough from sleep. He pressed a warm kiss into your temple, his arm tightening around you. “How does your body feel?”

You took a long, dramatic breath and stretched your limbs, letting out a soft yawn that made his chest rumble with an adored chuckle. “A little sore,” you admitted, turning in his embrace to face him, a small, defiant spark in your eyes. “But I am still ready for the day. You promised me archery training.”

Neteyam smiled, his eyes sweeping over your face as he pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck. “Archery can wait. The forest isn't going anywhere. Let's just stay here today.”

“We can't,” you laughed softly. Right on cue, the ring of the communal bells echoed through the upper branches of Hometree. “See? We have to go.”

“They will understand if we are late,” Neteyam mumbled against your skin, his hands lazily tracing the curve of your waist. “We are newly married. Everyone knows we were... occupied.”

Your cheeks instantly burned hot. “Neteyam!” You reached down and pinched his arm, hard enough to make him grunt. “That is all the more reason we must show up on time! I have a reputation to build here, and I will not have everyone looking at me knowing why we slept in.”

“Baby, I hate to break it to you,” he chuckled, propping himself up on an elbow, his long finger caressing the base of your throat, “but they are going to know anyway.”

Your fingers touched your neck, your eyes snapping up to him in question. “What?”

His finger trailed down to your bare chest and you gazed down, finding a distinctly tender purpling spot right above the swell on your left breast. You glared up at him, your hand raising to pinch him again, but Neteyam quickly raised his hands in retreat, a boyish, unrepentant smirk on his lips. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It’s just that... you’re so soft—”

“Well, it looks like a bug bite,” you pushed your lips forward, touching the marks and examining it, before peering up at him. “By a big bug.”

He chuckled, pulling you back to him. “Do we have an issue with big stuff?” he mumbled, his lips brushing your neck.

You shrink away from the ticklishness of his lips, moving to get your top instead. Despite his teasing, Neteyam helped you prepare by grabbing your loincloth and helping you with it. At your stubborn behest, the two of you walked down to the communal clearing for breakfast. Neteyam carried his heavy warrior's bow, but slung over his other shoulder was the beautifully crafted longbow he had gifted you, along with both of your quivers

You thought walking into the clearing would make you feel embarrassed, especially with how the youth started nudging each other and how the older hunters gave Neteyam teasing looks, but you felt nothing but pride as he held your hand as he led you to the high dais where his family sits. Tuk grinned and waved at you, while Kiri offered a teasing a smile.

You pursed your lips and kept your gaze low in front of your parents who are now conversing quietly with Jake and Neytiri, looking entirely out of place in the vibrant, loud atmosphere. Once breakfast concluded, you paid respects to both sets of parents, and you startled a little when Neytiri gently squeezed your hand, making you snap your eyes up to her.

She smiled, “You looked radiant, daughter.”

You blinked, throwing a quick sharp glance at Neteyam who chuckled before seriously nodding at Neytiri. “Thank you...” you mumbled.

As you stand there, your father’s sharp eyes instantly dropped to the two bows slung over Neteyam’s shoulder, then to the quiver of arrows resting against your hip. His expression hardened into a mask of pure, rigid distaste.

“Neteyam,” your father spoke, his voice carrying a heavy weight as he pointed at the weapons. “I hope you are not teaching my daughter that. Weapons do not belong in the hands of a chief's daughter.”

The air around the dais seemed to drop in temperature. Your mother looked at you with the same piercing gaze your sister was giving you, as though you were doing something so embarrassing, while Neytiri’s side eye dropped a temperature as it locked onto your father. Meanwhile, Jake sat back comfortably in his seat, waiting to see how his son would handle this.

You felt a familiar, cold instinct to shrink back, but before the fear could even take root, Neteyam stepped slightly in front of you, offering your father a calm, polite smile.

“That is exactly what I intend to do, Olo'eyktan,” Neteyam replied, his tone grounded yet carrying the absolute firmness of a future leader. “My wife is now the woman of an Omatikaya warrior. She is Omatikaya as much as I am. And in this clan, our women are trained in archery much like the next guy.“

Your father’s face went entirely pale, but his jaw eventually tightened, utterly paralyzed by the younger warrior's sheer insolence. In your birth clan, no young man would ever dare speak to the Olo’eyktan this way, but here, Neteyam answered only to Toruk Makto. You pursed your lips as you felt warmth spread in your chest, making you squeeze Neteyam’s hand.

Seeing her husband silenced, your mother stepped in, “And you, daughter? Do you agree to this? Is this what you want?”

You looked at your mother, then at your father, and for the first time in your life, you didn't feel the need to lie. You took a step forward, aligning your shoulder perfectly with Neteyam’s.

“I am a wife of the Omatikaya now, Mother,” you said as softly as you could, it sounded like a mock in your own ears, but your parents won’t know that. “I will listen to the will of my husband, and I will do my absolute best to learn under him.”

You chose your words wisely, ensuring that the very obedience they had drilled into you since childhood was what’s staring back at them now. Your parents were left speechless, knowing they would sound like hypocrites to command you otherwise. You are a mated woman now, and in their eyes, your husband’s words hold more sway than their own.

Neteyam didn't give them a chance to recover. He gave a respectful, brief nod to his own parents, ignoring the faint, amused smirk playing on Jake Sully's lips. “If there is nothing else, we will take our leave.”

As he turned and led you away from the dais, his large hand snaked around your waist, pulling you tightly against his side as you walked down the winding ramp.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered sensually, “You did well, baby. And there is indeed a lot of training under me.”

You blinked, your cheeks burning when you remembered last night. Once you were down the Hometree, Neteyam led you deep into a secluded clearing a mile away from Hometree, a training ground he had clearly set up just for you. At the far end of the clearing, several woven targets hung on trees.

“Alright,” Neteyam said, handing you your new bow. “Let me see your basics, baby.” He stepped behind you, his chest pressing against your back as his large hands guided your arms up.

You swallowed hard. This was the dangerous part. You had to play the part of a beginner. You had to act like you didn't know how to balance your weight, or how to gauge the wind. You pulled an arrow from your quiver, deliberately letting your fingers fumble slightly with the notch. You pulled the string back, purposely letting your left elbow sag, trying to remember what it was like when you were just learning.

“Like this?” you asked.

Neteyam didn't answer right away, his hands moving from your arms down to your waist, his thumbs tracing the alignment of your hips before he corrected your left elbow. “Yes. Try shooting,”

You gritted your teeth and pulled from your chest, keeping your elbow low again before shooting. Your arrow found its mark on the third tree, exactly as you intended. Neteyam’s hands tightened on your waist, lazily caressing.

“You know how to do this,” he whispered, low and entirely certain.

Your heart violently jumped into your throat, your hand gripping the bow tighter. He has a keen eye and it was your fault that you underestimated that. “I trained,” you mumbled.

“You’re not a beginner,” he replied, his head dipping low so his breath fanned across your neck, right over a dark mark he had left there.

Your lips twisted. “No, I’m not,” you said in a low voice, your head turning to him.

His eyes darkened as it looks through yours. His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him. “Look at the target... and show me who you really are.”

You held his dark, intense gaze for a second before turning back to the targets. With a fluid, practiced motion, you reached into your quiver and nocked a fresh arrow, planting you feet firmly into the ground. You aligned your shoulders and pulled the heavy string back past your chest in one smooth motion.

The arrow flew like a bolt of lightning across the clearing, passing the first two targets and striking the farthest one dead in the center. The woven target shuddered under the sheer force of the impact. Behind you, Neteyam watched with fascinated, wide eyes, a sudden rush of heat flooding his chest. You looked incredibly hot standing there, your posture unyielding and graceful.

He had always known you had fire in you. He had found you beautiful from the moment he first laid eyes on you, but seeing you like this, unapologetically in your element, made a massive swell of pride erupt through him. He had witnessed first hand what your parents were like, what your clan was like, and though he had initially thought that you were their perfect, submissive daughter, even then, he’d felt this spark in you.

It was only when you’d become one through the bond that he’d known the staggering depth of your resentment and anger toward your parents and your people. He had been determined to free you from their shackles and teach you whatever you wanted to know, but with this marksmanship you’re showing, you were already better than him and half the hunters in his clan, because you had achieved this excellence while being completely barred from it.

“Where did you learn?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer, suddenly realizing that a skill this sharp meant someone had to have taught you.

You turned to him, a genuine, fond smile breaking across your face. “My friend. Tarluk.”

The moment the name left your lips, Neteyam’s swelling heart staggered. A sharp, blinding spike of jealousy flared in his chest. Your sister had mentioned that name when she tried to corner him last night, but he was so worried about you, he’d paid little attention to it. Neteyam was never a jealous man, mostly because he had never been a lover before, and he had certainly never cared for anyone as fiercely as he cared for you. So, this sudden, possessive green monster rearing its head in his mind felt completely bizarre and unsettling.

“Tarluk...” he echoed, his jaw tightening slightly.

“Yes. He is a warrior back in my clan,” you said, your voice softening, turning mellow and tinged with a heavy layer of guilt. “He taught me everything he knows. And he is... imprisoned right now. That is how I repaid every bit of help he gave me.”

Some of his jealousy instantly evaporated, replaced by immediate concern. He smoothed his features, calming his racing heart. “Imprisoned why?”

“He tried to help me escape... on the very day the Omatikaya arrived,” you mumbled, looking down at your bow. “I didn't know my father was going to pledge me to you. In my clan, we have no say in who we mate with. My friends are alright with that life... but I was terrified. I tried to run away.” You stopped, swallowing the lump in your throat before looking up at him with soulful, vulnerable eyes.

Neteyam stared down at you, his heart beating incredibly fast against his ribs as he traced the absolute trust written across your features. “And... are you still scared?”

You smiled softly, the warmth in your eyes answering him before you even shook your head. “No... I am not scared.”

A heavy, breathless huff of relief left his lungs. The tension completely drained from his body as he melted into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. He leaned down, pressing a deep, fiercely reassuring kiss to your lips. “You have nothing to be scared of, baby. Not here, and not as long as I am drawing breath. I will protect you from them. From everything.”

You smiled against his mouth, nodding against his chest. “There is something I want to show you once we are back home.”

You spent the next couple of hours in the clearing, completely shedding your facade. You showed him the extent of what you know, so he could gauge exactly what else he can teach you. By the time you walked back to Hometree, you were holding his hand, literally skipping cutely along the forest path, your old worries entirely forgotten. Neteyam watched you, a soft, lovesick smile on his face. Just as the two of you were about to break through the thick brush leading into the main clearing of Hometree, he caught your waist, pulling you back into the shadows for one more loving, deep kiss.

High above, standing on an empty platform, Neytiri stood beside Jake. She watched the two of you, a rare, incredibly soft smile touching her lips as she leaned into her husband's side, happy to see her eldest son so completely besotted.

Once you and Neteyam slipped back into the privacy of your kelku, you walked over to your leather travel box. You reached inside and pulled out the old longbow and the weathered quivers you had brought from your home clan, the ones you had kept hidden away.

Neteyam walked over, but the moment his golden eyes landed on the unique, intricate fletching of the arrows inside the quiver, he froze. His mind flashed back to the waterfalls near your clan’s lands, to the cloaked woman who had saved his life from an Agtik pack before disappearing into the mist just as he was gathering his wit.

He thought he was simply being irrational. He thought of the cloaked lady several times over the past moon, but his mind kept giving the lady your face. Even when he first saw you, he had a strong feeling that he knew whom he was looking at... It had surprised him, just as it had surprised his parents, when he decided to agree on your father’s plea for a betrothal before he had even heard the terms.

He was never one to decide on anything without thinking it through, but on this one, he had felt so certain it startled him.

“I knew it,” he breathed, his voice dropping to a whisper of absolute awe. “It was you.” He looked from the arrows to your face, his eyes wide. “The cloaked lady from the waterfalls... it was you.”

You offered him a small, sheepish smile. “You knew how?”

Neteyam let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh. “I was being imaginative, perhaps. But whenever I remember the lady at the waterfalls, I see your face. I thought it was just my mind reminding me that I am betrothed, but I almost felt certain it was you.”

You chuckled. “I wasn’t going to tell you... But I don’t want to hide anything from you,” you pushed your lips forward.

He felt like he was being allowed to walk through a secret passage leading into a room full of wonders. He had met you, had been saved by you, before he even officially knew your name. “Thank you for telling me,” he mumbled, pulling you to press a kiss on your temple.

Lo’ak had long found a mate among the Metkayina of Awa’atlu, and Neteyam had always wondered how easy it had been for him, that it had taken only one look. But now he understands. He understands what Jake and Lo’ak were talking about. You will see her and you will know. Thanking Eywa for the sheer providence and the incredible luck of hand she had given him would never be enough.

You were everything he had waited for.

A few days later, you watched your parents, your sister, and their rigid entourage finally prepare to leave the Omatikaya and was surprised to feel absolutely no sadness. Standing beside Neteyam as their direhorses turned back toward the woods, the only thing filling your chest was a profound, liberating sense of relief. You could hardly wait for the dust of their departure to settle.

As the days and weeks melted into moons, you and Neteyam fell into a beautiful, seamless routine.

Every morning, he would wake up before the dawn, his stolen kisses on your skin occasionally waking up up, but most times, he could successfully slip out for early border patrols without waking you up. And then, he would return hours later, waking you up with soft kisses before you both headed down for the communal breakfast.

Afterward, the two of you would escape to your private training ground. Because your archery and horsemanship were already flawless, Neteyam decided to teach you hand-to-hand combat skills instead. This was unknown to you. The Na’vis rarely fight using their bodies in close combats, but he explained that they were necessary skills taught by his father.

You took to it with a fierce, untamed focus, loving the feel of your body dodging his heavy frames, laughing whenever he used his weight to pin you to the soft grass, only to kiss you breathless as a penalty for losing.

By midday, when Neteyam had to report for scouting duties with his father, you spend your afternoons with Kiri and Mo'at, sitting in the quiet healing pavilion, learning the properties of healing roots, orchid poultices, and the spiritual songs of the Omatikaya. You found learning here much easier than learning under the rigid, highly paternalistic guidance of your mother.

Best of all, Mo’at listens to the healing knowledge and spiritual routines unique to your clan. These peaceful afternoons of study would bleed into quiet evenings that makes you feel that you were finally doing things to belong and not to conform.

When the next dawn broke, the rhythmic chirping outside filtered into the kelku, but you were already stirred by the familiar sensation of warm, soft lips pressing against your shoulder. A slow, lazy smile spread across your face, keeping your eyes closed.

When he sensed the shift in your consciousness, he lifted his head, his golden eyes dark and hooded with adoration. You felt his lips against yours and you kissed him back eagerly, your fingers tangling in the braids at the nape of his neck, pulling him flush against you. His large arm wrapped around you, almost lifting you to him as he deepened the kiss.

You broke away from the kiss to breathe, so his lips found the the sensitive column of your neck, trailing down over the slope of your breasts, lingering on your stomach, and finally, dipping lower. The past few moons had revealed this side of him, an obsession with your pleasure that bordered on reverent. In the beginning, you had been shy, overwhelmed by the fact that he would dare put his mouth there and the raw, uninhibited way he does so, but you had learned to love it.

Thus, you spread your legs, arching your back off the sleeping mat as he lapped at you like a man starved. His tongue and lips found your sensitive nub, sucking and licking until you couldn't help your moans, a sound that started low in your throat and grew sharper as the rhythm took you. You were biting your lip, trying to stay quiet, but it was impossible, especially when he presses his tongue flat on you.

When you finally came, the release was a shuddering wave that made you gasp, and he licked every lingering essence as if this were the desert and you were a well of water. You lay there, sweaty and weak, your breath coming in ragged hitches as he moved back up your body, his mouth settling on the pebbled tips of your breasts, suckling with a possessive intensity. He finally pulled away to press a loving kiss to your forehead, his eyes searching yours.

Your hand instinctively dropped, grabbing at the heavy ridge of his crotch, feeling the sheer hardness of him. You let out a soft, mewling sound, squeezing him, and he let out a harsh, guttural grunt, closing his eyes for a moment to fight for control.

“I'll save this reward for later, baby,” he growled, his voice gravelly. “If I start now, I'll never make it to patrol.”

True to his word, he left for patrol, and you managed to drift back into a light, contented sleep. You only woke again when the sun dappled through the kelku, with the rustle of his footsteps coming in not long after. You looked up and smiled at him, pulling the covers off you and he groaned at the sight of you still naked.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he said as he lowered himself down, leaning over you.

You pressed a hand against his chest, caressing his skin damp with the morning's efforts. You craned your neck to kiss him, and his hand slid over your waist. “I’ve been sleeping in too much lately. I need to train myself to wake up early again,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I’ll ask Mo’at for spice tea,” he responded, his head rearing back a little, his eyes fixed on yours seriously. “But you could always just sleep in. You’ve been working so hard with the healers...”

You chuckled, “You’re so serious,” you nuzzled your nose against his. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just adjusting.” You pulled him down for a kiss.

He let you kiss him, but he pulled back again, “But do tell me if it persists—”

“Yes, yes, I will. Now, kiss...” you cut him off, pulling him close again and he kissed you with more intent now.

Just as the heat grew heavier, the bells for the communal meal echoed through Hometree. Neteyam groaned, dropping his forehead against your collarbone, his frustration vibrating through his chest. You laughed, a bright sound that made his heart flutter. You pushed against his shoulders, and he knew better than to argue when it came to your reputation, he knew how much you valued being seen as a proper member of the clan and appearances during meals were your top priority.

You pouted at him, “It’s because you talk too much,” you said, grabbing your top.

His head dramatically fell back on the soft mat and you chuckled, your eyes dropping to his hard-on tenting at his crotch, clearly ready to burst but he knows it would have to wait. Almost immediately after the meal, you both headed to your the training grounds.

Moons of practice had transformed your hand-to-hand combat skills, proving to him just how fast you learn. But today, the training was secondary. You sat between his legs by a large root, finding a comfortable patch of moss to sit on. He broke open some sweet, nectar-filled fruits, sharing them as you talked about your childhoods: the lonely, quiet years of your past versus the vibrant, chaotic, and loud upbringing he had experienced with his siblings.

“Lo'ak was a menace,” Neteyam chuckled, shaking his head as he bit into a yovo. “When he was no bigger than Tuk is now, he decided he wanted to ride a syaksyuk. He climbed all the way to the highest branch of a tall tree, got stuck, and started crying because a mama syaksyuk started throwing sour berries at his head. I had to climb up and drag him down by his loincloth while Dad watched from below, just laughing.”

You laughed loudly, remembering the photo you saw of them as children. It allowed you to imagine a tiny, stubborn Lo'ak and an annoyed little Neteyam playing vividly in your mind. “You must have been such a serious little boy.”

“I had to be,” he smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “With Lo'ak trying to drown himself in puddles and Kiri talking to the plants, someone had to keep them alive. Kiri used to bury my daggers in the dirt because she said it ‘wanted to sleep.’ I spent half my childhood digging up the forest floor looking for my weapons.”

Your smile turned a bit wistful, a faint pang of envy twisting in your chest. “It sounds beautiful.” Your eyes dropped to the fruit in your hands, thinking of his youngest sister. “I feel a little bad for little Tuk, though. She didn't get to experience all of that chaos with you guys being so small together.”

“She makes up for it by being twice as loud,” Neteyam reasoned, his hand caressing a stray hair off your face.

You sighed softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the woven basket. “My sister... She was so much like my mother. I can’t remember a time we were ever... close,” you shrugged.

Armem is just one of the many women in your clan who think that everything about what is taught is right. The rules, the silence, the way women are expected to bend. She excelled at obeying everything and she knew you were just pretending, she just didn't know how to catch you in the act.

Neteyam’s arm pulled you tightly against him, his chest on your back rumbling with a deep, protective hum, his fingers sprawling over your hip.

“The night of our mating feast, moons ago,” he began softly, his voice dropping into a serious register, “I heard of Tarluk before you ever told me his name. Your sister told me about him when you were off talking to your parents.”

You froze, tilting your head up to look at him. “She did?”

“Yes,” Neteyam murmured, his jaw tightening at the memory. “She told me that you had run away with a warrior before the Omatikaya arrived. She told me Tarluk was your lover, and that you were coming to my bed dishonored.”

A heavy, mellow sadness settled over you. You rose slightly, propping your palm against his muscled chest to look directly into his eyes. “I can't believe she would tell you about it that way... Neteyam, Tarluk is not my lover.”

His large hand cupped your jaw with immense gentleness. His thumb stroked over your cheekbone, his gaze steady and unyielding.

“I know, baby,” he whispered fiercely. “I believe you. I did not believe her one bit. I told her she should have been more loyal to you.”

You let out a long sigh, the final ghost of your past clan fading into the forest air. You pressed your palm flat against the heavy beat of his heart. “I never want to go back to my clan again... I never want to see that forest again.”

A slow, devastatingly handsome smirk grew on his face. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you a fraction closer. “You can't go nowhere without me now, baby,” he whispered. “You'll never go back there. This is your home. You belong to the Omatikaya. You belong to me.”

Your heart swelled so painfully with love that you had to look away to catch your breath. You smiled, deliberately breaking the heavy romantic tension by lifting a piece of the sweet fruit to your mouth, just as he was leaning in to kiss you.

Neteyam groaned, his eyes narrowing in playful frustration with that block you did. You chuckled at his reaction, turning the piece of fruit and pressing it against his lips instead. He paused, watching you with an intense, heated gaze, before he bit into it, chewing slowly without ever breaking eye contact.

You raised a brow, completely untamed and bold under his stare. Leaning forward, you darted your tongue out, catching a single drop of sweet juice that was rolling down his chin. His breath hitched, his hands instantly gripping your waist as a dark, possessive hunger flared in his eyes.

“You are testing me today,” he growled softly, his hands moving to your hips to maneuver you on his lap.

You caught his hand. “I have a question,” you asked as you pressed your back against his chest.

“Hm?” He buried his face on your neck.

“Why do you like doing...” you trailed, gesturing vaguely between your legs, your voice teasing.

“Doing?” he asked, his hand going where you gestured.

Your hips bucked, grabbing his hand. “I mean, your mouth. On there.”

Neteyam paused, angling his head to look at you with a slow, amused smirk spreading across his face. “Is that really a question?” he asked as if it sounded like a joke.

“It’s an observation,” you barked but softly, cutely showing him your fangs. “It seems a bit... obsessive.”

He laughed, a rich, deep sound that made your skin tingle. “It’s like asking me if I love eating my favorite fruit,” he said, his gaze dropping to your lips. “It’s what I crave. It’s what sustains me.”

“That’s dramatic. It’s not food,” you frowned.

His hug around you tightened as if he were suddenly getting cuteness aggression. “I love it, anyway. And think of my cock. You said you wanted to do things with it, right?“

You nodded, your pulse quickening a sudden, visceral thrill run through you at the thought of finally exploring that part of him.

“Suppose I want you to kiss it,” he asked, his voice dropping to a low, challenging hum. “Would you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, licking your lips.

He raised a brow, reaching into the basket and pulling out an utumauti. He peeled it, the sweet, earthy scent filling the air, and held it out to you. You stared at it, and instinctively, you moved your head to bite into it, but he gently moved it away, laughing at your eagerness.

“No,” he said softly, his voice thick. “Put it in your mouth.”

You blinked, your breath hitching. You looked from the fruit to his eyes, then nodded, opening your mouth wide. You took the fruit between your lips, your tongue darting out to taste the sweet nectar before you wrapped your mouth around it, mimicking the depth he’d asked for.

He groaned, the sound raw and pained, as he watched you.

“Would you do that to me?” he asked again, his eyes searching yours for hesitation.

You pulled back, your heart hammering against your ribs. You looked at his loincloth, imagining the warmth and the power of him, and a desperate, hungry desire to give him that same level of pleasure he gave you bloomed in you

“I want to,” you breathed. Your tail, usually calm, began to wag behind you, a soft thump against the moss.

Neteyam let out a shaky breath, his expression softening into one of tender love. He leaned forward and kissed you, his hands trembling slightly as they went to the ties of his loincloth, stripping it away completely. Your breath caught in your throat. You had felt the sheer, heavy mold of him a hundred times over in the past moons, the thick, rigid heat that had driven you mad against your thighs and deep within your core, but seeing him completely bare in the daylight was breathtaking.

You pulled yourself up onto your knees between his legs, your hand reaching out, your fingers trembling slightly as you wrapped them around the base of his thick length. Neteyam drew in a harsh, ragged gasp as your thumb stroked up the underside of his shaft.

“Baby...” he choked out, his fists clenching into the dirt at his sides.

You looked up at him through your lashes, completely captivated by the power you held over such a powerful warrior. Slowly, you leaned forward, your lips parting as you pressed a soft, wet kiss to the very tip of him, catching the sweet, clear bead of his arousal on your tongue.

Neteyam let out a low, guttural roar that echoed into the canopy, his hips instinctively jerking forward at the agonizingly perfect warmth. You smiled against his hot skin, opening your mouth wider, and began to show him exactly how much you wanted to pleasure him.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of his pleasure, sliding your lips along the thick length of his shaft. Every dip of your head earned you a ragged, breathless praise from Neteyam, his fingers lightly tangling in your hair as he guided your pace. By the time your mouth filled with the hot, heavy rush of his release, his chest was heaving as a broken groan ripped from his throat. He pulled you up into a tight, crushing hug immediately after, holding you against his racing heart.

“Fuck...” he mumbled as he let out a broken chuckle. “You can’t do that again... I came so fast it’s embarrassing.”

You glared at him, but a naughty smile still cut through your lips. “But what if it’s my favorite now, too?”

The peaceful moons that followed seemed to blur into a soft, golden dream. You have now settled comfortably in the Omatikaya, especially among the children, that you spend some afternoons in the shade of the lower branches, watching Tuk and a few other children.

Tuk was in the middle of chasing a friend when she suddenly spun around, her tail swishing with sudden curiosity. “Y/N, are you pregnant?” she asked out of nowhere, her big eyes wide with innocent hope.

You blinked, a fierce blush instantly crawling up your neck. “No, Tuk, I am not.”

“Aww,” she pouted, kicking a soft patch of moss. “I thought you were. Leera’s mom is pregnant. She’ll have a playmate very soon!”

You watched her sprint away, but her words lingered in your mind like a persistent echo. You weren't exactly worried, but as the days passed, you couldn't help but wonder. It wasn't for a lack of trying; you and Neteyam were at it every single day, his possessive hunger never waning, yet your body remained unchanged.

To soothe your restless thoughts, you took up weaving again, a craft you deeply missed and hadn't practiced much since leaving your clan. Sitting alone in the kelku, your fingers worked mechanically, interlacing thick, soft fibers into a structured, sturdy pattern.

You were just finishing a section when the woven flap rustled. Neteyam stepped inside, his shoulders tight with a lingering trace of stress from a long council meeting. The moment his golden eyes landed on you, however, the tension visibly melted from his face.

Seeing the lingering exhaustion in his posture, you immediately dropped the what you were doing and stood up, reaching out to guide him down to the sleeping mat. Your fingers firmly moved on the tight knots in his shoulders, applying a soothing pressure to calm him down.

Neteyam let out a long, shuddering sigh, tilting his head back against your stomach. “What were you weaving, baby?”

“I am trying to weave a baby wrap,” you murmured softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “But do not get too excited yet. I am not with child. I am just... preparing.”

A soft, boyish smile cut through his tired features, and his lips pushed forward, pressing a tender kiss into your temple.

“What is wrong?” you asked, your fingers slowing their movement on his shoulders. “You look heavy.”

“Nothing you need to worry about, baby,” he responded smoothly, reaching up to squeeze your hand. “Just a tense council meeting. Some border disputes. It is fine.”

In the weeks that followed, however, you realized it wasn't entirely fine. The reality of clan infighting across Eywa’eveng was beginning to seep into the edges of the Omatikaya. Yet, the Omatikaya were almost too chill about it, confident in their strength. You only noticed the subtle shifts: the increased frequency of hunters and warriors moving in and out of the boundaries, and the way Neteyam constantly seemed on edge.

The breaking point arrived on a stormy afternoon.

Shouts echoed from the lower canopy, frantic and laced with a terror you had never heard from the Omatikaya before. You rushed down to the lower platforms, your breath catching in your throat as a party of warriors moved through the crowd. They were carrying several severely wounded hunters.

And in the center of the frantic group, carried on a human-made stretcher, was Neteyam.

He was barely conscious, his skin a pale, sickly blue, his chest heavily stained with a thick, dark smear of blood. Your breath was knocked out of your chest as a suffocating, icy fear instantly seized your heart, dragging your mind back to the terrifying vision you had seen in his memory. Jake and Neytiri pushed through the crowd, their faces pale with panic. But as the healers began to move Neteyam toward the human biolab for emergency treatment, Neytiri suddenly stopped. Her fierce, golden eyes snapped to you standing in the crowd.

Before you could move, she lunged forward, her hand clamping onto your forearm in a brutal, iron grip.

“Did you know about this?” she demanded, her voice shaking, cold with an explosive anger.

“What?” your voice shook, your eyes wide with shock and confusion.

“Your people betrayed us!” Neytiri hissed, her fangs fully bared, her face inches from yours. “Your father shot Neteyam! He ambushed our patrol at the border! I knew this alliance would bring nothing good. My son dove into this headfirst, not even thinking, for whatever petty reason—!”

“Mama! Don't get mad at Y/N, please!“ Tuk screamed, sprinting through the crowd and throwing her small arms around Neytiri’s hips, crying.

Jake came rushing back out of the biolab doors, his eyes wide as he realized Neytiri hadn't followed the stretcher inside.

“Neytiri,” Jake called, his voice booming as he grabbed her elbow, pulling her away from you. He looked at your pale, trembling form, his expression turning into one of profound alarm. “Jesus, baby, what did you tell her?”

Neytiri let out a sharp, ragged breath, her chest heaving as she finally ripped her gaze from yours, staggering on her steps before walking away and going into the biolab.

Jake turned to you, his voice urgent but grounded. “Go inside, Y/N. Go see him. He’s alright, but you need to be in there.” He looked down at his youngest daughter. “Tuk, stay with her.”

You couldn't move. Your legs felt like lead, your ears ringing with the horrific revelation. Your father had shot him. The treaty of alliance, the marriage, the peace, it had all been a calculated deception to lower the Omatikaya's guard against other clans who wished to bring it down.

Tuk buried her face into your stomach, her little shoulders shaking with violent sobs. The sight of her grief broke the paralysis holding you. You slowly knelt on the damp wooden platform, pulling the little girl into a tight embrace, murmuring soft, comforting words against her hair until her crying began to slow into quiet whimpers.

Once she quieted down, you pulled back slightly, cupping her small face in your hands. You forced your voice to sound steady, invoking the very strength Neteyam always saw in you.

“Tuk, listen to me,” you said, your eyes locking onto hers with absolute seriousness. “Your braveness is needed right now. The Omatikaya is in chaos, and your brother needs a warrior to guard him. I need you to stay right here, by the laboratory doors, and make sure no one enters who shouldn't. Can you do that for me?”

Tuk sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, her small jaw tightening with a sudden, fierce determination. She nodded firmly. “I will guard him, Y/N.”

“Good girl,” you whispered, kissing her forehead.

You stood up, turning away from the laboratory. You didn't walk inside. Instead, you turned on your heel and moved swiftly, back up the winding ramps toward your kelku. The moment you stepped past the woven flap, the dam broke. Tears of unadulterated fear, pain, and burning rage spilled over your cheeks, hot and furious. You couldn’t even sob or wail. You wanted to be there for Neteyam.

Hold his hand and give him strength. But what you were about to do cannot wait. You moved with a cold, terrifying precision born of a lifetime of faking compliance.

You walked straight to the weapon rack. You gripped the smooth, dark wood of your old longbow and slung the weathered quiver over your shoulder, checking the heavy, sharp fletching of your arrows. Your father thought he had traded away a submissive pawn to buy himself time. He thought you were a weak, compliant girl who would weep in a corner while his treachery tore a clan apart.

He was going to find out exactly who you were.

You rushed down the hidden, less-traveled pathways of Hometree, bypassing the frantic crowds entirely. Breaking into the dark, rain-slicked undergrowth of the forest, you raised your hand to your lips and let out a sharp, piercing whistle.

Within moments, the heavy thud of hooves echoed through the brush, and your direhorse broke through the foliage. You vaulted onto its back, your fingers grabbing your kuru and connecting it to his in one swift motion. With a fierce tap to its flanks, you turned the direhorse toward the borders, tearing into the black, stormy night.

You were going back to your clan. And you were going to kill your father.

The wind screamed in your ears, tearing through your hair as the direhorse threw its powerful weight forward, kicking up wet earth and leaves. For hours, you rode through the stormy night without a single pause. The rain-drenched trees of the Omatikaya territory gradually gave way to the dark, clouded woods of the suffocating borders of your birth clan.

Your body ached, your muscles tightly coiled with exhaustion and a cold, lethal focus. By the time the distant glow of your old clan's cooking fires pierced the dark, the storm had settled into a heavy mist. You didn’t slow down to hide or sneak through the brush like a frightened girl. You rode straight into the heart of the main clearing, the heavy thud of your direhorse's hooves drawing the immediate, sharp attention of the night guards.

Several warriors stepped forward, bows raised, but they froze when the light allowed for a better view of you, drenched in rain and covered in mud. From the largest tent, a tall, imposing figure stepped out, a heavy mantle around his shoulders.

Your father’s sharp eyes locked onto you, but you could see in his eyes that he was not threatened. You gave that to him. But that will change. He stepped closer, stopping a few paces away, completely unbothered by the heavy bow in your hand. To him, you were still the girl who always had her head down, the girl who bent to her mother's rigid will.

“Is he dead? Is that what this visit is for?” your father taunted, a slow, dark smirk spreading across his face as he looked up at you. “If so, then that is good news for our council. Job well done, and you can finally come home, daughter.”

You remained mounted on your direhorse, your posture regal, unyielding, and completely still. Your eyes, normally soft and trusting, were now as cold and sharp as blade.

“I feel sorry that I had to sacrifice you...” he continued, his voice dripping with a sickening condescension. “Let you be defiled and used over and over again by that disgusting half-blood. I am glad to see that you're not pregnant... that is great. We can wipe away that stain, remarry you to a real warrior, and—”

“What a loud noise,” you interrupted quietly.

Your father paused, his brows snapping together in sudden fury at your insolence. “What did you just say to me?” He looked at the old longbow in your hand again, a mocking chuckle vibrating in his chest. “You dare bring a weapon into my presence? You think you can make an aim on me after your pitiful training sessions with that demon? The one I personally shot?”

“For the record, dear father,” you said, your voice entirely devoid of fear, a slow smile tilting the corners of your lips. “Neteyam didn’t teach me archery... I learned this from under your nose.”

In the blink of an eye, faster than any warrior in the clearing could even register, your hand blurred. You drew an arrow from your quiver, nocked it, and pulled the heavy string back past your chest in one fluid, terrifyingly practiced motion.

Your father's eyes widened a fraction, his breath catching in his throat as he realized, too late, the absolute precision of your stance.

“Look,” you whispered.

You let go of the string and the heavy arrow flew with blinding speed, striking your father dead in the left side of his chest. The exact, precise spot where he had shot Neteyam.

He let out a sharp, agonized gasp, staggering backward as his hand flew to the shaft buried deep in his flesh. His eyes bulged, filled with a sudden, overwhelming mixture of anger and shock. He opened his mouth to scream for his warriors, his foot stepping forward to lunge at you.

Before his foot could even plant into the dirt, another arrow tore through the air, piercing straight through his foot and pinning it deeply into the muddy ground. He shrieked, a raw, pained sound, his balance entirely stolen from him as he began to fall. Desperate, his hand flew down to the knife strapped to his thigh, trying to draw it.

A third arrow struck his wrist, completely shattering the bone and before he could even touch the hilt.

You looked down at him from the height of your direhorse, your expression completely detached as he writhed in the mud beneath you.

“My husband is not dead, but you will be.”

Without a single hint of hesitation, you nocked one final arrow and released the string. The final arrow struck cleanly between his eyes, causing his body to slump back into the dirt, his blank gaze staring up at the stormy sky.

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

When the heavy sedation finally wore off, Neteyam opened his eyes to the harsh, sterile white light of the human biolab. His vision blurred, then sharpened, focusing on the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor. The sun of midday was already dawning through the windows.

His first thought was entirely instinctual. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the one face that always brought him peace.

“Y/N...” he grogged, his voice barely a gravelly whisper.

The lab doors hissed open, and Jake stepped inside, his expression deeply lined with fatigue. Behind him, Neytiri stood, her usual fierce posture replaced by a rare, heavy layer of visible guilt. Little Tuk was curled up on a chair in the corner, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

“Dad,” Neteyam breathed, trying to push himself up on his elbows. His hand flew to his chest, feeling the thick, white bandages binding his skin. “My wife?”

A heavy silence blanketed the room. Everyone had spent the last several hours frantically combing through every tier of Hometree after Jake had ordered a full-scale search, desperate to find you before his eldest son woke up, but no one had seen a trace of you. Even Neytiri, now that her blinding panic had subsided and her mind was clear, realized the catastrophic mistake she had made by cornering you and implicating you in the ambush.

For the past several weeks, the Omatikaya council had had intelligence about a brewing conflict. Your birth clan apparently part of a larger, aggressive faction of clans seeking to destabilize Toruk Makto’s influence, viewing his family as “half-bloods” who didn't belong with the true people of Eywa. Throughout those tense council meetings, Neteyam had staunchly, fiercely defended you.

When the elders and even his own mother suggested that your betrothal was a calculated set-up to make him vulnerable, Neteyam had never wavered. He knew your heart. He knew that you knew absolutely nothing about your clan’s movements, and he had begged his family to let him handle it, to protect you from the clan's suspicion.

But Neytiri's explosive grief at seeing her firstborn bleeding had shattered that protection.

“Neteyam,” Neytiri stepped forward, her voice trembling in a way he had never heard before. “The night you were brought in... I lost my mind,” Neytiri confessed. “I confronted her. I told her that her father shot you, and I... I accused her. Tuk said she left not long after. We think... maybe she went to find them. Maybe she'll come back...”

“Left?” Neteyam echoed, the word ripping out of his throat like a physical wound. The monitor beside his bed began to beep in a frantic, erratic rhythm. He tore the IV lines straight out of his arm, ignoring the sharp sting of blood.

“Neteyam, lay back down!” Jake barked, rushing forward to plant his heavy hands on his son's shoulders.

“No! She doesn't want to go back there! She told me she never wanted to see that place again!” Neteyam roared, fighting his father's grip with a desperate, wild strength, despite the pull on his stitched flesh. “I have to find her—”

“I’ve already sent out scouting teams to track her trail,” Jake argued, his voice laced with helplessness. “But the storm washed away the tracks. Some came back empty-handed. We don't know where to look, son.”

Neteyam’s chest tightened, a suffocating mixture of physical pain and raw, blinding panic making his head spin. He was hoping against hope that you hadn't gone back to your birth clan. He knew how much you hated it.

Just as he was stepping off the bed, the lab doors hissed open again. One of the clan's seasoned tracking warriors stepped into the room, drenched in mud and breathing heavily.

“Olo'eyktan,” Navem reported, bowing his head to Jake but looking directly at Neteyam. “Word has just come from the western border. Korto... is dead. He was assassinated in the dead of night inside his own camp. They said it was his eldest daughter.”

The warrior glanced at Neteyam. He felt the air completely knocked out of his lungs. He staggered, his knees buckling slightly as he stared at the warrior in absolute, stunned disbelief. His mind reeled, completely torn between two overwhelming realities: the terrifying fact that you had ridden alone into enemy territory in the middle of a storm, and the realization that you had executed a flawless assassination entirely on your own.

Neytiri gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.

It was Jake who broke the stunned silence, his tactical mind instantly kicking into gear. “Looks like we have a lead,” he said, his voice grim but focused. “Tell the aerial teams to scour every border between here and the plains. We need to get ahold of her before her father's loyalists do.”

Neteyam didn't wait for his father to finish. Ignoring the burning agony in his chest, he bolted out of the biolab. Jake and Neytiri chased after him as he sprinted up the winding pathways toward the ikran roost.

“Neteyam,” Jake called, throwing the comms through the air. Neteyam caught it with his good hand. “Wait for the scouts to give you an update!”

“Thanks, dad,” Neteyam yelled back, his voice raw.

“Come home safely. Both of you...” Neytiri begged from the platform below, her voice cracking.

Neteyam leaped onto his Ikran, his bond snapping into place with frantic urgency.

The flight was a blur of agonizing waiting. Neteyam cursed himself for choosing his Ikran over a direhorse, realizing too late that the thick canopy made it nearly impossible to spot a single figure from the air. For thirty agonizing minutes, he flew in erratic patterns, his heart hammering against his ribs, until the comms clicked to life.

“Neteyam, we have a visual. She’s at the rocky creek near the old boundary. We are moving to secure her—”

“No!” Neteyam barked into the mic, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Do not approach her. Give me the coordinates. I will deal with my wife on my own.”

Receiving the location, he drove his ikran into a steep dive, landing the beast in a clearing a short distance from the water. He threw himself off the saddle, his long strides breaking through the damp ferns as he sprinted toward the sound of rushing water.

And there you were.

You were sitting on a wet stone by the edge of the creek, looking incredibly small, pale, and exhausted. Your eyes were heavily swollen and puffy from a night of what seemed like endless crying. Your old longbow lay on the moss beside you. You were crouched low, scooping cold water into your palms to wash your mouth, when the rustle of leaves caught your attention.

Your eyes snapped up, locking onto his towering figure across the shallow water. You gasped, instinctively flinching and rearing back.

New, hot tears instantly swelled in your eyes as your gaze landed on the thick white bandages wrapping his torso, and the dark red spot of blood seeping through his chest. A wave of profound, crushing shame washed over you. Your father had done that. Your bloodline had brought that violence to his family. It didn't matter that you had killed the monster; the stain of the betrayal felt permanent.

“Don't come near me,” you sobbed, your voice breaking as you held up a trembling hand when he stepped straight into the freezing, ankle-deep water, his gaze brazen and unyielding.

“Why?” he asked stubbornly.

“It's just... you shouldn't be with me,” you sniffled, wrapping your arms around your own torso as if trying to hold yourself together.

He tilted his head, his expression softening into something intensely possessive. “Too bad. I want to be with you.”

“Neteyam, please,” you cried, shaking your head violently as the tears cascaded down your cheeks. “It is a disgrace! My people are traitors. My father wounded you, he almost took your life! My blood is that of a traitor’s... and I am so scared... I am so terrified that this life inside of me will take after my blood—”

“What?” Neteyam stopped dead in the middle of the creek.

The word hit him like a physical blow. You were rambling, your words pouring out so fast that his head began to spin, a sudden, loud ringing filling his ears. His golden eyes slowly dropped from your face, tracking down the length of your body until they rested on your flat abdomen. He closed his eyes for a single, heavy second, drawing in a long, deep breath through his nose to steady his racing mind.

The gravity of what you had just done crashed over him. You had traveled a distance that should have taken days in a matter of hours. You had risked your life, riding alone into a hostile camp, carrying out a flawless execution under the noses of an entire warrior council. You could have been captured. You could have been killed.

And through all of that terrifying danger, you were carrying his child.

“You are pregnant?” he asked, his voice dropping into a small, breathless whisper as his eyes snapped open again.

“I... I didn't know,” you whimpered, your fingers wrangling together in a fit of nervousness. “I just learned it now. I threw up so much... I don't know, I can feel it...”

“You are pregnant,” he repeated, a massive, overwhelming whoosh of air rushing out of his lips.

That's it. He lunged across the remaining stretch of the shallow creek, his powerful legs churning through the water until he reached your side. Before you could even take another step back, his large, good arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward until your body slammed directly into the solid wall that was his body.

He pulled back just enough to cup your jaw with his fingers, tilting your face up, and kissed you hard. It was a deep, fiercely possessive, and desperate kiss, pouring every ounce of his relief and love into your lips.

“Baby,” he breathed against your mouth, his forehead resting against yours as his chest heaved. “You are amazing. And you are lethal. You have always been. But I need you to never, ever do something like this again.” He let out a breathless, emotional laugh. “A bullet and an arrow haven't killed me yet, but you doing this might actually finish me off.”

You buried your face into his neck, sobbing uncontrollably as the immense weight of the last hours finally collapsed. “I wanted to be there last night,” you wept, your hands carefully gripping his shoulders, mindful of his injury. “I wanted to hold your hand so much... but I needed to catch my father at the very height of what he thought was his victory. I had to end it.”

Neteyam wrapped his arm tighter around you, burying his face into your hair, his own tears finally slipping down his cheeks. “I love you,” he mumbled fiercely into your skin. “I love you so much, baby.”

You pulled your head back, looking up into his golden eyes, your own twinkling with a mixture of exhaustion and profound love. You pushed up on your tiptoes, capturing his lips again, deepening the kiss as you mumbled, “I love you, Neteyam. I love you so much.”

When the kiss finally broke, Neteyam gently wiped the stray tears from your cheeks. “Do you want to go back home now?”

You nodded instantly, the word home finally feeling absolute.

“Are you... are you mad at my mother?” he asked softly, watching your expression carefully.

You shook your head, a soft, understanding smile touching your lips. “Mad? Why? I understood her anger, and I understood her reaction. She was simply a mother who was terrified of losing her firstborn child. I would have done the same.”

Neteyam’s chest swelled with an intense, overwhelming pride. The sheer capacity of your heart, after everything you had endured, left him entirely awed. He held you tightly against his good side as he guided you back toward his ikran. Your direhorse was left to be brought back by the Omatikaya warriors who had been tracking you from a distance.

When the ikran finally landed on the high platforms of Hometree, Jake, Neytiri, and Tuk were already waiting at the roost.

The moment the beast settled, Neytiri stepped forward, her face tense, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she prepared to offer a formal, deeply humbled apology to you, but Neteyam didn't give her the chance. The moment he dismounted, his large frame moved directly in front of you, shielding your body from his family's view.

“I need to take her straight to Mo'at,” he announced, his voice firm, carrying the absolute authority of a mate protecting his own. “She needs to be checked immediately. Especially given her... sensitive case right now.”

Tuk tilted her head, her big eyes darting around Neteyam’s torso to look at you. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You smiled warmly, stepping out from behind your husband's protective shoulder to look down at the little girl. “I am okay, Tuk. And I have some very great news for a brave warrior who guarded her brother so well.”

The family followed in a quiet, tense procession as Neteyam led you straight to the quiet upper tiers where Mo'at sat by the hearth. She didn't even need to touch you. The moment her wise eyes landed on your posture, and the subtle, protective way Neteyam’s hand was resting against the small of your back, a knowing, radiant smile broke across her weathered face.

“You are here to confirm a pregnancy? I had been waiting to be asked for moons.”

Tuk instantly let out a joyous shriek, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. “A playmate! I knew it!” she cheered, her laughter echoing through the quiet pavilion.

But while Tuk celebrated, the confirmation only made Neytiri’s chest tighten with a deeper, agonizing wave of guilt. She realized that your ride into danger had been undertaken at such a vulnerable state. Later that evening, as the stars began to blanket the skies, Neytiri found you sitting alone on the edge of the healing platform. She approached silently, her ears pressed back in true humility.

“Y/N,” Neytiri began, her powerful voice dropping to a soft, vulnerable register. “I have no words to excuse my behavior. I allowed my fear for my son to blind me and I am... deeply sorry for the pain I caused you.”

Your expression was entirely peaceful as you reached out, placing your hand over hers. “There is nothing to apologize for, Neytiri. We both had the exact same interest at heart. His safety amd protection. You reacted out of love for your son, and I reacted out of love for my husband. If I were in your position, I would have done far worse.”

Neytiri stared at you for a long moment, a profound respect cementing between the two of you as she squeezed your hand in return. “I have no doubt, daughter. I have no doubt.”

The rest of your pregnancy was a beautiful journey. Your bond with Neytiri had grown deeper as moons passed by, replacing the cold, rigid relationship you had with your mother. Although, there were times you missed her, there was no one in that clan you still wanted to see except for Tarluk.

The last of Neteyam’s intelligence reports regarding Tarluk said that he had escaped after your father’s assassination and the short period of anarchy that followed it. Neteyam assured you that he had sent word to allied clans to give him notice should a lone man wander near their borders.

You had refused to stress yourself further as your pregnancy progressed though. Not when Neteyam has became utterly insufferable in his doting. He refused to let you carry anything heavier than a piece of fruit and  followed you to every single healing lesson with Mo'at.

“You are leaning too far forward,” Neteyam murmured, his deep baritone vibrating right against your ear. His large hand reached around your waist, gently but firmly pulling your torso back against his solid chest. “Mo'at said you need to keep your spine straight so the weight doesn't strain your lower back.”

You let out a soft huff, a small smile tugging at your lips even as you tried to maintain your serious expression. “Neteyam, I am grinding roots, not fighting an ikran. My spine is perfectly fine.”

“I am just making sure,” he replied smoothly, completely unbothered by your teasing. He took the heavy stone pestle right out of your fingers. “Here. Let me do the heavy grinding. You shouldn't be straining your wrists.”

And he did not miss an evening without pressing his face against your growing belly, whispering long stories to the life moving inside you.

“Pea is quiet tonight,“ he whispered, his voice incredibly soft, a stark contrast to the commanding tone he used with the hunters. He flattened his large palm over your skin, his eyes closing as he felt the steady, rhythmic pulse of the life inside you.

“This little seed was kicking all afternoon while you were at the border,”  you murmured, your fingers gently tangling into the dark braids at the nape of his neck. “I think Pea misses the sound of your voice.”

Neteyam’s lips tilted into a proud, boyish smile against your skin. He nuzzled his nose against your stomach, clearing his throat quietly.

“Listen closely, little one,” he began, speaking directly to your belly. “Today, Papa flew high into the floating mountains. The wind was fierce, the kind that tries to steal your breath. I brought with me Mama’s longbow, and when you are big enough, I am going to show you the clearing where your mother showed me how fiercely she can shoot. She struck the farthest target dead in the center, the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.”

You felt a sudden, familiar flutter beneath his palm. A distinct, sharp little thump from the inside.

Neteyam’s eyes snapped open, his golden gaze lighting up with absolute, pure wonder. “Did you feel that? Pea heard me."

“As always,“ you whispered, your heart aching with a love so profound it felt heavy.

He leaned up, shifting his weight so he was hovering over you, his eyes dark with an intense, unyielding adoration. He pressed his lips to yours, a slow, deeply reassuring kiss that tasted of the sweet fruit you had shared earlier.

“You are everything,” he murmured against your mouth, his thumb gently tracing your cheekbone. “Both of you.”

When your labor finally arrived several moons later, he had completely lost his cool. He was so frantic, so entirely out of his element, pacing the pavilion and checking your vitals every two seconds, that Mo'at and Kiri eventually had to physically shove him out of the tent because his chaotic energy was stressing you out more than the contractions.

But when the final moments came, he was right there beside you. He held your hand with a trembling grip, his golden eyes wide with a mixture of terror and absolute reverence as you gave one final, powerful push.

A sharp, clear cry echoed through the kelku, cutting through the warm night air.

Mo'at smiled, carefully lifting the tiny, squirming bundle and wiping her down before placing her directly onto your chest. Neteyam leaned over you, his hot tears spilling onto your shoulder as he looked down at his newborn daughter. She was perfectly made, a beautiful little girl with your delicate features, but he can see how she got his defined stripes.

Neteyam pressed his lips to your sweaty forehead, his hand resting over both you and the baby. “She is perfect and strong, baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking with an endless devotion. “Just like her mother.”

[beautifullytragicmess]

“Ten years on the cusp of sand and sea while his heart laid with you—so far out of his reach that it could have driven him mad.” — Neteyam x Omatikaya!Reader (COMPLETED)

You do not yet know that you are mine — true words that echo in his mind. — aged up!Neteyam x avatar!Reader

Modern/University AU, fluff/angst, why choose

He was going to see you again, he had to. — Part 1 Lo’ak x reader x Neteyam

And one kiss doesn’t seem like enough, he’s already wanting more. — Part 2

“Don’t make me beg.” Despite you pushing him away Lo’ak had drawn himself closer to you again, until his lips were barely grazing your own. — Part 3

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam sets his hand on his shoulder, stopping him from going after you, “we should talk, little bro.” — Part 4

“We talked about you, obviously. We both like you, we’re both attracted to you and neither one of us wants to back down. So…” — part 5

“You talk out of your ass, Neteyam. Go chase some girls who give a damn.”

“This is not a gift from Eywa, it’s made by the RDA to drive them crazy.”

Always Yours — Neteyam x Omatikaya!Reader

Tough Until He’s Not — Neteyam x Omatikaya!Reader

You do not yet know that you are mine — true words that echo in his mind.

[beautifullytragicmess]

can I please ask for an avatar request? Pretty please?

maybe Neteyam and his mate having something fluffy in the future? Like after they argue about something he takes care of her by braiding her hair?

Always Yours

Pairing: Neteyam x na’vi!Reader

Summary: After an argument between the two of you over another Omaticaya woman touching something they shouldn’t have, Neteyam smoothes things over by giving you some self-care

Water rolls down your back to the base of your tail, the gentle flutter of the ends create a splatter of those same droplets that hit his bare chest. Neteyam draws himself closer to you as he moves your hair off your back to your right shoulder. His hands move down your sides to your waist and then hips, holding you steady as you stand in the water together.

Though the small bathing pool is hidden by the thick overhanging leaves, Neteyam still feels a surge of urgency to shield you from any prying eyes. There is no one who would or should be able to see you like this, to see your beautiful skin glistening in the water.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” Your voice breaks the silence and beckons his attention away from the smoothness of your skin beneath his palms. “Or are you still angry?”

“Angry, little tuté?” His chest rumbled with a purr, teasing and taunting as he leans in, nuzzling his lips against your ear. “Because you had ruined one of my ceremonial headpieces?”

“You were being a vonvä.” You give no quarter when you insult him, though your body trembles beneath his hands when he smooths his fingers over your skin. “You think you know everything-”

“Mawey,” Neteyam’s chest vibrates against your back as he places the first of many kisses against your neck, trialing down to your bare shoulders, “yawnetu, mawey.”

He hears you huff indignantly and feels the slap of your tail against his thigh. Neteyam knows full well that you are still lingering in your stubbornness and not yet willing to crater to the mating like you should. But just as he recognizes your stubborn nature, he sees the underlying hurt from those ten years he was gone.

Ten years he was gone, and ten years you had wondered where he was. He knows it isn’t fair to you, it wasn’t fair to expect you to remain waiting for someone who might not return. But he’s here now.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Neteyam.” You turn your head, those golden eyes burning into his own with fire that could draw him to his knees.

He is the future of the clan, the future leader of his people. He is the warrior who will take the tribe’s wellbeing upon his shoulders and yet, for all his strength, he could only willingly drop to his knees if you had asked him to. By Eywa, Neteyam was drawn so irrevocably to you, there was no limit to what he wouldn’t do just to have your beautiful eyes cast upon him.

“I think you are jealous, Yawntu.” He gives you another affectionate squeeze to your shoulders knowing that accusing you of such a claim would only make your mood sour.

The accusation of you being envious of another Omaticaya woman touching something that’s his, strikes him with need. Neteyam would never admit it to you but the knowledge of you being jealous, envious and possessive, makes the future Olo'eyktan boastful.

“I am not jealous.” Your lips curl into a hiss, something you are often doing when around Neteyam to show your annoyance. Not that the action toners him, rather he likes hearing the sound.

It reminds him of a young nantang, hissing and howling to ward others off of its intended prey. The sounds you make, the growls and hisses, the curling lips and the thrashing of your tail, it brings hopefulness to Neteyam.

“Close your eyes, let me help you.” Neteyam kisses the top of your head before he reaches behind you for the soap berries he carries in his bag. He grasps two in his hand and twirls them in his palm before crushing them, allowing them to lather before he runs his fingers through your hair. With your eyes closed he almost thinks you’re settled and relaxed.

“Rä'ä 'ampi pum oeyä.” Until you open your mouth and speak with an increasing possessiveness that makes blood rush to his cheeks—the Olo'eyktan blushes from the surge of desire lining your words.

Though it is not just blood rushing to his cheeks that is evident of his state of being. There’s an amassing thickening between his thighs that’s now pressed against your back. It’s inevitable and he loses himself in the moment of care he’s taking of you, so much focus on washing you that he almost forgets to respond.

“Don’t touch what’s yours, Krr-tanhì?” Neteyam finishes lathering your hair with the soap berries and once he’s ready, begins washing the lather from your hair. “Little star—”

“I’ll fix it, I’ll make it better.” Your voice cuts over his as you promise to reconstruct the ceremonial headpiece he was supposed to wear, and considering that you were the one who broke it, the offer only seems fair.

“Jealous of another weaver’s work, oe txe'lan?” He hums against the back of your neck, a dulcet sound that makes you shiver and shudder against him—a pleasant purr that communicates more than your words could. “Your hand needed healing, the weaver offered to help-”

“Pxasìk.” You curse and curl your lips again, nefariously shutting down the idea that someone else put their hands on something for Neteyam especially something personal.

Neteyum pauses what he’s doing and reaches to cup your chin, directing your attention back over your shoulder. His golden eyes bore into your own, his lips moving in a slow and intimate message.

“Oel ngati kameie.” His voice conveys every measure of tenderness and devotion he can offer you, every beat of his heart that is no longer his own. It all belongs to you.

“Neteyam…” when you speak his name, he’s not capable of stopping himself from leaning in and brushing his lips against your own. He seals his adoration for you away in a physical exchange, and adjusts his hands as you turn toward him, brushing your bare chest against his own.

You pull away from the kiss only when you absolutely have to, and even then you keep your body tightly bound to his. You rest your forehead against his shoulder, kissing the solid muscle.

“Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam.” You whisper against his skin just as his arms tighten around your waist, keeping you pressed against him while the warm water laps at your flesh.

“Oeyä tirea lu ngeyä.” He kisses into your hair, his hand trailing along your braid until he can grasp the end—just above your queue. “My life is yours, yawnetu.”

[beautifullytragicmess]

Neteyam acting all tough while he’s injured because his crush is watching until he gets patched up and then he becomes a little more sensitive

Tough Until He’s Not

Summary: Neteyam prides himself on being the big mighty warrior. After returning to High Camp with wounds that need the attention of the tsahik he tries to keep up his bravado for his crush—you

Warnings: None, fluff

The sun beats down upon the forested covering that encapsulates the training grounds of the Omatikaya. The heat from the air filters through the lushness of the jungle home. The place he knows far too well, and with the heat comes the rising tension between warriors in training.

The sessions he is leading, helping prepare the future warriors and hunters of the Omatikaya, have been taking place all morning. With the smoothness of a nantang driven mad by sickness, Neteyam feels less like an instructor and more like a babysitter.

He stands to the side and watches the younger evengan selecting their training knives and bows with little care for the weight and the density of the wood. Neteyam reflects on his own decision, his own choice of weapons he keeps in his kelku, and finds himself irritated by the emptiness of their choice.

To these boys, choosing a weapon holds no more importance than choosing what food to eat. They don’t understand the importance of knowing the tools in their hands and understanding what capabilities they have with each of them. Of course Neteyam is seasoned, he knows what a difference small changes or choices can have.

“Keep your arm steady and level, keep your eyes upon the target, pull the string taut and take aim-” silence falls over him when there is movement to the left of the training grounds, a cluster of eager young eveng coming to see the boys training.

The girls are trying to be inconspicuous in their stares, in their wandering eyes but he sees it all. Neteyam can see the girls that are in these boys’ age ranges peering through the bushes, creating a distraction from the task at hand.

Neteyam draws his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun, and he has already started parting his lips to send them off when someone beats him to it. The clapping of hands, loudly and only done once, startled the girls who shriek and scramble away from the treeline.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than to watch them train?” You appear like those creatures his dad told him about—an-gels, if he remembered right—mythical and breathtaking beings that captivated men.

You captivate him, you enrapture the mighty warrior without even trying to. Your golden eyes pierce through him with a penetrating assault that steals his breath and makes his mind go foggy. The smile that you cast over your shoulder when you send the girls away and cease their staring, has Neteyam’s breath catching painfully in his chest.

Your beautiful and thick hair is adorned with beads of different shapes and sizes, carved and polished to your liking. Your thick queue braid is hanging down your back, softly swaying with every step. The tewng that starts at your hips hangs down to brush against the back of your calves, dyed deep blue to match the sweet berries he knows Tuk has a taste for.

You look as if you are progeny of Ewya herself. The Great Mother must have sent you from her own hand to the presence of the Omatikaya; Neteyam knows it.

“Tsamsiyu fkewit sweyn!” You chide the scrambling girls and as they flee, you look back at Neteyam.

Leave the mighty warrior alone — you’re teasing him, and your teasing quips has him grinning like an idiot.

In front of all his warriors in training, Neteyam is staring ahead at the pretty Na’vi he’s had a crush on since he was a child, younger than the boys he’s training now. The grin is plastered on his face and he follows you with his eyes while you take off after the girls, making sure they leave.

He feels it, hears it, senses it, but still it is too late.

“Skxawng!” He grunts when the force hits his shoulder, the piercing tip of a knife breaks the skin of his back. The beading of his blood begins to roll down his back, hot and sticky, and there is a slight wavering of his hands as he reached behind. “What the hell did you do?!”

There is silence, crippling and awkward as the hunters-to-be, wannabe warriors, stare at the knife embedded in the future Olo’eyktan’s shoulder. The knife stuck into his back is in deep enough that it would require help from the tsahik, and there is a stream of blood that’s pouring out from the wound.

“Fekem lu, oeru txoa livu.” One of the warriors, young and inexperienced, chimed in with a rushed apologetic statement. “Oe lolu fngäzìk.”

Stepping forward to own his mistake is honourable among the Omatikaya, and Neteyam can respect what he had done. However there is a question that rises as to why he was distracted in the first place.

I apologize, it was an accident. I was distracted. The words echo in his mind, the boy’s apology and reasoning being distraction is understandable. Neteyam himself, moments ago, was sidetracked by your beautiful face and your bright smile.

He remembers what it was like being a young boy on these training grounds, having girls coming to spy on him and the other boys as they trained. The girls liked to watch the boys and the boys liked to show off, things hasn’t changed from when he was a cocky little warrior-to-be.

Only, Neteyam had never accidentally thrown a knife at his instructors.

“Training is done for the day.” Neteyam grunts and tries to keep his shoulder still, not to jar the knife deeper.

He dismisses the boys and they go running off in the direction of the girls that were spying on them, their efforts to impress potential future mates was back on their minds. With the group of boys gone, Neteyam turned the opposite direction and headed toward the tsahik’s kelku, wondering how he is going to explain this to his grandmother.

“They were distracted.” He recants the story while Kiri kneels to his left, touching the edges of his knife wound in his back. “The boys were sidetracked by girls their age-”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” His dad’s voice breaks Neteyam’s concentration and he raises his head to stare his dad down from across the healer’s kelku.

“What?” Neteyam’s voice holds surprise and confusion, eyes narrowing in the direction of his dad. “What are you talking about?”

“I remember someone else getting distracted by a pretty eveng.” His dad quips, amusement all too prevalent in his voice as he draws his attention from Neteyam to the entrance of the kelku. “The eveng would walk by and my son would lose focus, eyes trailing off after the pretty little girl with her hair gathered in two thick braids-”

“-sempul, ftang!” Neteyam grits his teeth and hisses at his father to drop it before you arrive.

He follows his dad’s gaze toward the Na’vi that’s approaching from the worn path, stepping aside to let children rush past you. Neteyam’a gaze is fixated upon you, the furrow of his hairless eyebrows easing and a dopey smile forming on his face. You are walking with a basket on your hip, likely carrying herbs that his grandmother and sister requested for him.

That dopey grin only grows when you turn your head and catch his eye from a distance, matching his grin with your own soft smile.

“There it is.” His dad’s voice falls to the back of his mind, and Neteyam is sparsely paying attention to his father. “I know that look.”

Neteyam’s attention flits from you and your ability to draw him in, no matter where he is, to his father. His father who’s standing in the healer’s kelku with his arms crossed over his chest, giving Neteyam a look that he has seen far too often.

“Kehe, ke omum fì'uri.” Neteyam turns his head and glances over his shoulder to his grandmother and sister, instead of looking at his dad or you.

“Sure you don’t.” His father tilts his head and steps aside just as you approach the entrance to the kelku, allowing you to pass.

“Oel ngati kameie, Toruk Makto.” You raise your hand to your forehead and extend it down, greeting Neteyam’s father with his greatest recognized achievement.

“Oel ngati kameie.” His dad greets you in exchange, nodding in response as you further enter the kelku. You walk toward Kiri and gracefully kneel by her side, placing down your basket of herbs and other medicinal plants.

“Fyape lu tsamsiyu ulte ohe?” You direct your question toward Neteyam with a teasing lilt and a subtle twitch of your lips, an action that he catches.

“The mighty warrior is fine.” He relents from telling you the honest truth, that the knife in his back hurts worse than it is, and instead chooses to keep a straight face.

To the best of his ability he does. Neteyam is able to prevent himself from wincing when Kiri begins grinding the herbs with the mortar and pestle, forthcoming the sting that is sure to follow.

“That was quite a surprise wasn’t it?” You laugh lightly and remove the lid of your wicker basket, setting it beside you on the right. “Those little warriors got distracted by pretty faces.”

“They need to focus-”

“The mighty warrior got distracted by a pretty face when he was their age.” His dad quips, speaking over Neteyam to deliver another attempt at a story from the past that Neteyam, clearly, forgot.

“I did not.” He rebuffs the idea, his voice pitching slightly when Kiri places the paste of herbs and medicinal leaves to his back. “I never lost focus.”

“Bullshit.” Lo’ak coughs into his hand, calling his brother out on the idea that Neteyam was akin to a pious man.

As if Neteyam hadn’t spent his childhood and all the years of his youth pining after you. Lo’ak, hell his whole family, knew that Neteyam had it in his mind who his mate would be since he was a little boy.

And when he had gotten older in his youth, Lo’ak knew the dirty little secret his brother held. All those nights he had gone out for rides with his ikran, he went to isolated places. In the depths of the jungle where no one could catch Neteyam taking pleasure with his hand to your memory.

“Shut up!” Neteyam suddenly hissed at his brother, beating his teeth as his ears fell back. “Skxawng!”

A grin breaks onto Lo’ak’s face and his shoulders shake with his laugh, taking the jest at his brother’s expense. Neteyam reacts with his ears flattening against his head and his tail whipping against the floor with annoyance at his sibling.

Regardless of Lo’ak screwing with him, Neteyam’s foul mood falters when you reach for his hand. He turns his head toward you and a smile breaks on his face when he looks at you.

“It’s okay, Neteyam. Everyone gets distracted one time or another.” You speak with a little giggle, a soft laugh that has the tips of his ears burning and his smile shifting from a grin to something more tender.

He locks eyes with you, he holds your gaze and searches those golden irises that have the power to make his whole world shift. The colour of his eyes remind him of the colours before the eclipse when the sun is starting to set. The hues that reflect back toward him have his heart pounding, his palms sweating and his mouth feeling dry—childhood attraction turns to deeply rooted desire and the metallization of a future with you.

And then Neteyam feels his grandmother pulling out the knife and he nearly has a kneejerk reaction to the pain. He almost allows that stoic hold of his expression to shift until he schools himself. He holds onto that tough guy persona for the sake of impressing you, and remains unflinching.

“If you need to squeeze my hand, you can.” The sound of your voice has Neteyam’s shoulders drooping with relaxation, and there’s a settling ease that comes when your hand rests on his.

“Yeah, squeeze her hand if it hurts bro.” Lo’ak snickers from the side of the healing kelku, taunting Neteyam over his crush on you.

“Shut up, skxawng!” Neteyam hisses and whips his head over his shoulder to glare at Lo’ak, lips forming a scowl. “I had a knife in my back-”

“-even the mighty warrior gets hurt every once in a while.” You croon and slide an arm around his shoulders and lean in to kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger against him. “I’m glad you’re okay, ma Neteyam.”

Between the contact of your lips on his cheek, and the way you say Ma Neteyam, the future Olo’eyktan’s cheeks burn. He blushes and stumbles over a hiss when Kiri seals the wound with wrapping, pulling it tight.

When she’s done and starts rising to her feet, Spider is quick to follow her, just like other mated pairs until it’s just Neteyam and you. With the quietude of the healing kelku, Neteyam allows himself to relax. And with the tension in his muscles starting to settle, he casts his eyes upon you once more.

“So…you were distracted?” You cock your head to the side, eyes flitting across his face with curiosity and excitement. “What distracted you?”

Neteyam’s breath hitches, for a moment. Then the corner of his lips twitch before he smiles and raises a hand, reaching for you. He rests his hand upon your cheek and brushes his thumb against your skin, angling your head back. He leans forward and nudges the tip of his nose against your own, before his lips brush yours. He exhales into you and you lean forward, almost crawling into his lap, and the only thing that stops you is another injured hunter stumbling into the kelku.

With his approach, Neteyam feels you pulling away from him with a coy smile. You place one final kiss to his cheek before you rise to your feet and grab the now empty basket you came with, and move to the exit of the kelku.

He sees you looking over your shoulder back at him, flashing him a smile before you leave. Neteyam leans back and watches you until you completely disappear from view, and then he sighs wistfully.

He knows that as soon as he gets out of here, he’s going to start making you courting gifts.