Yea yea we all love to obsess over sweaty men... but what about that man being obsessed with you?
Simon felt filty. Utterly disgusting, as he slowly kneeled right in front of the laundry basket that is filled to the brim, your short, cute sports wear just within an arm reach.
You had just taken a shower, would probably let him smear his face all over your hot and wet body if he had asked nicely, but Simon knows better than that, it would be embarrassing for the both of you, right? Maybe he'd make you uncomfortable and you'd get the ick, making things awkward.
So yeah, sneaking around to take a quick sniff without you noticing could be justified.
He keeps his head in an angle to be able to glance around if needed, on alert as if on a mission, the absurdity of it all almost makes him scoff. His giant hands reach down to grab your shorts and quickly press it to his crooked nose, his white lashes fluttering and eyes nearly rolling back in response.
Simon bites down on his lower lip, cock stirring in his sweatpants as he keeps inhaling your scent like a mutt, the bright shade of red on his ears spreading to his cheeks by the time his tongue peeks out to have a taste. He bucks into nothing, humping the air until his brain gets enough oxygen to drop one hand down and squeeze around his hard cock.
You look for him around the house, only to find him on his knees, smelling your dirty clothes. Your boyfriend almost cries after getting caught, you've never seen his face so red, trying to hide what he's been up to.
Had you asked anyone else, you're sure the answer would be a resounding 'no.' Or even a mocking laugh.
But you didn't ask anyone else. You asked ghost, under the dimly lit awning of the pub, "can i fuck you, si?"
"You already do, love," ghost points out with a mumble around his cigarette. He lights it and takes a drag, exhales slowly "an' not here."
"I don't mean like that, si." You huff, knock your ankle against his bad one pointedly "I mean can I fuck you. As in with a cock. I bought a strap and...well."
Ghost takes a moment to raise both brows at you, deadpan. He takes great pleasure in silently judging you before shrugging "alright. But I want my tea."
Which is how ghost ends up sprawled naked on your bed that you really should size up, nearly taking up the whole mattress.
"Christ, simon..." you whisper, kneeling between spread thighs. Ghost is big in the way important things are big. More than just size, his entire presence takes up space. Meaty thighs covered in scars lazily drop open to reveal an already prepped hole, and you drag your eyes up a round stomach and fat tits to see ghosts smirk "don't trust me to do it myself?"
Ghost hikes a leg higher, loops his ankle behind your hip and rubs the leather of the strap into skin "wanted to make it easy for your first time, sweetie."
God, you love him.
You smile, notch the head of the strap against his rim. The minute twitch if his abdomen makes your cunt ache, "ready, si?"
With a firm, slow, thrust you push in. Torn between watching the silicone slide into ghost or watching the sudden pinch of his brow or the way he tosses his head back with a pleased groan "fuck, okay. Keep going–"
You do, a bit awkwardly at first. You're using muscles you previously didn't need to, trying to adjust and finding yourself wholly frustrated that you can't get the angle you want while ghost is too busy whining under you to really help.
"Fuck– okay, hold still–" you grunt, having enough and all together shoved ghosts thigh up and hooking his calf over your shoulder so you can thrust down to the base and–
"Wait– wait fuck–!" Ghost seizes, stomach tightening and back arching and his orgasm hits sharp and sudden. Thick ropes shoot across his chest while ghost moans and huffs through his teeth like he's trying to fight himself from grinding further onto the strap.
"Woah." You mumble once he's finally down. You wear there's a puddle under you at this point by how wet you are.
Ghost groans, breathes. He cracks one eye open and motions you to crawl up his chest. "I'm not getting up again, lovie. C'mere, you need a reward."
Once you're both cleaned up and snuggling, you'll notice ghost didn't even touch the twenty pound tea that he wanted. Asshole.
Ghost desperately needs to fuck his client. (You) pt. 2
tags | plug! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader, smoking, weed, shotgunning, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie, jealousy, not edited, my current brain worm
prev. part
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You text Simon a week later.
‘You got anything? Had a long day.’
‘Made some pre-rolls just for you, bird.’
‘Yay!!! Coming!!’
You give him a tight smile when you sit on his couch. It’s not like you. He doesn’t say anything until you take a few puffs and your tense shoulders start to sag.
“What happened?”
“Boss was just being a dick all day.” You turn to give a real smile, eyes crinkling, “Good thing my drug dealers got a soft spot for me though, huh?”
“Who told you that?” He smirks.
Your mouth drops in surprise, smacking his shoulder playfully.
“That’s mean.”
“You’re my favorite client, you know that.”
That makes you smile, head rolling onto the back of the couch and he decides he likes making you do that. He goes to get you water, and when he comes back your eyes are closed.
He lets you sleep.
The next time he sees you, you’re leaving the club, and when you recognize his car you jog over with an excited smile on your lips. You’ve got this little black dress on that makes it awfully hard to focus on anything else besides the curve of your hips.
“Simon! What are you doing here?”
“Bird? The hell you doing out here?”
“I went out with my friend.” You point to a man standing close by.
His jaw tenses, “Get in.”
“Huh?”
“Get in the car, bird. I’m not arguing.” He’s already climbing out of the driver's seat to open the passenger door for you.
“I’m not gonna leave him, Simon!” You say, but you let him guide you into the car anyway.
“He’s a big boy. He’ll survive.”
When he gets to your house you turn to him with a mischievous smile, “Were you jealous?”
“Of who?”
“Don’t play dumb!”
“Just making sure you’re safe s’all.” He shrugs casually.
You lean across the center console, “It’s okay. I’m not interested in him.”
“Good.”
That makes you smile bigger, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt, “You gonna come in and smoke with me?”
“Course I am.”
You drag him inside giggling, stumbling a little over your high heels. You waste no time changing, pulling the dress over your head as you walk down the hallway, giving him a glimpse of your lacy covered ass before you disappear into your room.
You come back out in an oversized shirt and shorts. “Proper smoking fit now.”
“Could’ve stayed in the dress for me.”
You frown, “Was getting uncomfy.”
“Like you like this more anyways.”
That makes you smile shyly, sitting next to him on your couch. He’s already lit a joint, it’s pink, and the sight of his big hands around it makes you giggle.
“Couldn’t even wait for me to start?”
“C’mere.” He grunts, pulling you on to his lap.
It’s the first time you’ve been there since you begged to ride him. The memory makes him chub in his jeans.
He takes a big inhale before gripping your chin, dragging you to his mouth, and exhales the smoke into your mouth. You writhe in his lap in surprise, fingers fisting his shirt, but you inhale as much as you can.
“Let me try.” You murmur.
He places the joint in your lips. You inhale deeply before leaning forward and blowing the smoke into his mouth.
The two of you take turns shotgunning the smoke into each other’s mouth. The pause between each inhale gets longer and longer, the both of you keeping your lips close, not kissing, just there. Breaths fanning over each other’s faces, your body becoming heavier and heavier on his thighs.
You smell like tequila, and there’s a part of him who knows he shouldn’t be doing this when you’re drunk, but you’re so fucking pretty in his lap, eyes lidded and edges stained red, lips parted to take shaky breaths.
“‘s all gone.” He says, holding the tip.
“Yeah.” You whisper, but your eyes stay focused on his lips.
The corner of his mouth twitches, “That’s not a good idea. You’re drunk.”
“But you’re high now too, aren’t you? Evens it out.”
He chuckles, “I need more than just one j to be high, pretty.”
You frown.
“You were on a date anyway. Don’t think you want this.”
Your frown deepens, “Wasn’t a date. He’s just a friend.”
He hums, ignoring the irritation pulsing at his temples, fingers smoothing along your hips.
“Just a kiss?” You murmur, “Hold me over til I’m sober.”
He tuts his tongue, but he pulls you down anyway because he’s a man after all, he can only resist so much. You smile against his lips, eyes fluttering shut and tugging him closer to you.
It’s slow, the both of your lips are a little numb from smoking, and the taste of the strawberry paper he buys for you has left a fruity taste in your mouths. His fingers tingle where they’re at your hips and there’s a pressure in his head from smoking.
He can’t stop himself from deepening the kiss when you taste like that and sound so sweet against him. You let him lick into your mouth, and your hips start to grind along his hardened length in his jeans.
You gasp against his lips every so often, filling your lungs with air before diving back in. He’s strong, god he’s strong because he manages to pull away, your lips stained a darker color, and you blink at him sadly when he stops your hips. All he can think about is how wet you probably are, just ruining your lacy panties, but he slides you off him anyway.
“Should drink some water, and go to bed.” He says.
Your brows crease, pout on your lips, but you nod anyway.
You text him in the middle of the night two weeks later.
‘You up?’
‘For you.’
‘I think I’m greening out andd I’m rlly scared can you pls come pick me up?’
‘Where are you?’
‘I don’t knowww.’
‘Send me your location.’
You’re at some random party, and you give him a wobbly smile when you see him. That same friend at your side.
“Hi.”
“Hi, bird. Let’s go.”
You nod, your hands shaking when you lace your fingers with his and he drags you through the crowd. He takes you to his, helps you change into some of his clothes, and presses a glass of water to your lips. You chug it like you’re parched, barely saving any room to breathe.
“You’re gonna stress me out.”
You laugh quietly, “Sorry.”
“Gotta be careful smoking too much when you’re not somewhere you’re familiar with.” He sits you down on his bed.
“I know. It just kinda happened.”
“How you feeling?”
“Better with you.”
That makes his teeth show.
“You want me to put music on?”
You shake your head, “Just want to lay with you.”
He invites you over for a smoke session a few days later. You roll the joint between your thumbs nervously.
“If you don’t wanna smoke we don’t have to. Just thought since it’s kinda our thing now.”
You smile big, “Our thing?”
“Mmhh.” He hums with a nod.
“That’s not what I was thinking about.” You murmur quietly.
“What’s it then?”
“You sleep with a lot of your clients?”
He chokes on the smoke he’s inhaled, coughing so much that tears well in his eyes.
“What?”
“Um, well. Have you fucked any of your other clients?” You bite at your bottom lip.
“Jesus, bird. No.” He coughs.
“Are you lying?” You squint.
“Never lie to you.”
“Okay.”
You smoke in silence after that. Your feet rest on his lap the entire time as you lean against the armrest. He runs his fingers along your ankles and up your calves. It’s innocent at first, but then you nudge your toes on the bulge in his sweats and he raises his brows at you.
You shrug, a devilish smirk on your lips.
“Accident.”
But then your legs fall open a little, your pretty thighs parting slightly for him. It’s an invitation, an awfully tempting one. It all happens so fast, he almost doesn’t even realize he’s nosing along the wet patch of your underwear and placing your legs on his shoulders until you squeak in surprise.
Your panties come off easy and he beelines straight to the source. He kisses along your thighs, your breath getting faster with each approaching kiss. His thumb finds your clit first, just soft strokes while his breath fans over your vagina.
He licks one flat swipe along your clit and your back arches. He dips lower and fucking groans into your pussy when he gets a real taste, eyes closed like he’s got sugar melting between his teeth and not you filling his senses.
When he returns to your clit, your toes curl against his back, and your head falls back. You’ve got one hand stifling your moans and he’d make you take it off and sing for him, but he’s more concerned with laving at your swollen clit than anything else.
You cry out when he takes the bead between his lips and sucks softly. Your mouth forms an o and the look you give him is so cute that he smiles into your pussy. Furrowed brows and big beady eyes, lashes wet at the edges like the stimulation was becoming too much.
You don’t try to pull away though, instead, you arch deeper into him, hand curling around the back of his head and pushing him closer to your clit. His big hands find your hips when you start to grind on his face messily, and it takes everything in him not to buck his own into his couch because he’s sure you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever fucked.
His nose bumps along your clit with each thrust, and his face is drenched in juices down to his chin. He hopes the smell fucking sticks, hopes he can taste you on his tongue later tonight when you’re not there.
You finish with his name on your lips and your thighs squeezing around his head tight. He licks it all up, lapping eagerly at your walls while your legs slowly relax, falling open onto his shoulders, and twitching with each lick.
When he comes up, your chest is heaving, like you were the one down there suffocated by your thighs and pussy. There’s this dopey smile on your lips and he can’t help but smile back, leaning down to kiss you with your arousal all over his face.
You don’t even scrunch your nose, you lick right into his mouth hungrily.
“You’re fucking perfect.” He grunts between sloppy kisses, hands fumbling with his sweats.
He feels you smile, “You’re the one who just ate me out.”
You make a surprised noise when his head slips into your entrance, hands clambering to your shoulders. He slides right in, your pussy nice and lax from your orgasm. He rests his forehead against yours when he bottoms out. Your nails dig into his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth popped open in pleasure.
“Fuckkk,” He drawls, “She feels so good.”
You whine, nodding against his forehead.
He starts with shallow thrusts, fucking into you just deep enough for you to get used to the stretch. When you start to impatiently arch into him for more, he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and leans forward.
The new angle makes you moan loudly, the pace Simon sets is more brutal.
“Been fucking stressing me out all month, you know that?” He grits his teeth.
You shake your head, but he wasn’t really looking for a response.
“Can’t just fucking stay home, can you? Always gotta get yourself into some trouble, don’t you?” His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh.
You whimper at his tone, “It’s not on purpose.”
“Asking if I sleep with other girls, like you aren’t smoking with other men.”
His hips slam into you hard at the end of his sentence, like he’s emphasizing his words.
“They fuck you like this? Huh?”
You shake your head again, “No! No, just you Simon.”
He’s not even sure where that came from when you guys have only fucked once, you’re not his, but you’re wrapped around him, pressing kisses against his neck because you think he’s mad and how can he not be jealous?
“You all mine?” He whispers, hips stuttering with his strength to not finish.
“Yes, yes, god, yes.”
You finish around him again, pussy just gushing, and compressing tight. He buries himself deep and joins you, pumping you full of the past month of blue balls you’ve given him.
tags | plug! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader, smoking, weed, smut, vaginal fingering, riding, creampie, not edited, brain worm I had
next part
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The first time you ever bought from Ghost you were wearing a skirt way too short to be socially acceptable, stumbling to his beat-up car with a drunk smile plastered on your face. He remembers it all a little too clearly, the way you leaned into the passenger window, smelling like tequila and the minty mouthwash you used to try and cover the smell up.
“Hi.” You giggled.
“Hi.” He responded, raising his eyebrow at you.
“Um, my friends over there,” You pointed to a group of girls across the street, “Dared me to come buy some off you.”
He stared at you without responding, and there was a long pause of silence before your smile dropped into something smaller.
“Wait? Do you not sell?” You covered your mouth, “Oh my gosh that’s so embarrassing, they told me they bought from you before!”
“Relax, bird. I do.”
“Oh! Great, that’s great. Um, how much for an eighth?”
“On the house.” He smirked, digging through the back of his car.
“What?”
“First time buyer, gotta guarantee you like it.”
You caught the bag he tossed you with a shy smile on your face, humming. “Okay, thank you!”
Ghost watched you jog to your friends after that, holding the bag out to them with a proud smirk.
The next time you bought from him, you were all by yourself, jean shorts showing off your pretty legs.
“Hi.”
He chuckled, “You’re back.”
You leaned into the window, low-cut shirt clinging to the swell of your breasts.
“I am.” You smiled, “How much for an eighth this time, for real?’
“Already have some pre-rolls, you can just have ‘em.”
“Huh? No, I didn’t pay you last time!”
“No one ever wants the pre-rolls anyway,” He shrugs, he lies. “They’re cherry flavored.”
That sparks your interest, “Really? I didn’t know they did that.”
You hand him your phone then, “Put your number in, yeah? So, I don’t have to hope to randomly run into you to buy more.”
When he hands the phone back you laugh after reading the contact name, “Ghost? That’s your drug dealer name? Really?”
“Do you want free weed or not?”
You laugh louder this time, “Yes! Yes! I was just teasing. Thank you!”
You text him two weeks later, a stupid meme at that with beady eyes, ‘more, please sir?’
He hates the way it makes the corners of his lips twitch.
He’s mobile that day, and you send him your address with one too many exclamation marks tagged on the end. You run out in leggings and slippers, a giddy smile on your lips.
“Hi.”
He laughs, “Hi, bird.”
“I liked the pre-rolls!” You say excitedly, leaning into the window, “Never had those before.”
“Yeah? What you need today?”
“You have any more?”
He frowns a little, “Get in with me, I’ll roll you some.”
You open his passenger side door too willingly, “Oh good. I don’t know how to roll,” You confess, “My friends usually do it for me.”
His mouth dips into a smirk, “Yeah? ‘Ts not that hard, watch.”
You lean closer, eyes wide like he’s actually teaching you valuable information and not how to roll a joint.
“Gotta make sure to take out all the seeds and stems before you grind it.” You watch him grind it enraptured. “Gotta roll up the tip first, then, wrap the paper tight.”
You nod eagerly.
“Fill it with your flower, roll it upwards with your thumb to make your shape. Then,” He licks across the paper, “Seal it with the glued edge, and twist the tip.”
He holds it out to you, “There you go.”
You take it between your fingers with a soft smile, “Thank you.”
You text him three days later, a picture of a lopsided joint that he definitely didn’t sell you.
‘How’d I do?’
‘Looks like shit.’
‘That’s mean :(‘
‘Come over, let me help.’
‘On my way!’
You show up an hour later, the crooked joint in your hands. You sit on his couch with a frown.
“You know, I didn’t think it came out that bad.”
“Give it here.” He laughs, “You packed it up wayyy too much. Got too much at the end here too, didn’t tap it out.”
Still, he lights it, holding it out for you to smoke. You take it between your fingers, inhaling a small amount before coughing slightly. He smirks at your watery eyes, taking the joint from you to smoke it.
“Sorry,” You say, “I got my lip gloss on it.”
He chuckles, the tip glistening with the gloss, placing it in the corner of his lips, “Doesn’t matter.”
It tastes like your lip gloss. Strawberries and weed.
You take turns smoking it. Simon watches you the whole time, with lidded eyes, focused on the way your pretty lips curl around the joint. The way your chest rises with each inhale, your eyes becoming heavier and heavier, a lazy smile smeared across your lips as you lean closer to him on his old couch.
All he can think about is those lips wrapped around his cock and not the tip of the joint. And he’s definitely rock hard in his sweats, but he doesn’t care if you notice, not when you keep giggling at every bad joke he cracks.
He jerks himself off when you leave, promising you’ll be safe and text him when you get home. He finishes when your message pops at the top of his screen ‘made it safe :)’
He invites you over himself a week later because he’s got random inventory, he ordered them himself, of strawberry wraps and he’s certain you’ll like them.
You do like them. You’re melted into his couch, blinking lazily at him.
“How come you never charge me?” It’s a whisper.
He looks at you, the room dizzy with smoke and your pretty gaze.
“Never make pretty girls pay.”
“Oh?” You sound disappointed, “So, you give it free to other girls?”
He shakes his head, “Just you.”
You squint, “Are you only giving me free weed so you can get a lay?”
He smirks, “Is it working?”
You scoff, smacking him in the shoulder, “Unbelievable.”
He catches your wrist.
“You giving it to my friends for free too?”
“Careful,” He smirks, “You’re starting to sound jealous.”
You roll your eyes, trying to pull away from him. He keeps you close, tugging you into his lap so fast you have no choice but to slip onto his thighs. You don’t look at him, eyes focused to the side.
“Just you.”
You peer down at him then, “Huh?”
His fingers find your cheek, still burning from the embers of the joint, “You’re the only one I don’t charge.”
“Yeah?” You whisper.
“C’mere already.” He murmurs, pulling you down to kiss him.
You make a noise of surprise, like you hadn’t expected your smoke sessions to lead to this, with his cock pressed between your thighs eagerly, grip on your chin and hip to keep you close to him.
You kiss him back earnestly, smaller hands finding his shoulders. He loves it, fuck he loves the way your hands shake against his skin, the vibrations that leave your chest and fill his. He’s been dreaming about this since the moment you walked over in your tiny skirt.
Your bottom lip pops away from his, glistening with his saliva and not the lip gloss you insist on wearing.
“Wanted you to do that for ages.”
He chuckles against your lips, “Yeah?”
Your hips grind against his then, “Only reason my friends made me go was because I wouldn’t shut up about how hot you were.”
He presses his teeth against your neck, fingers making quick work of your belt and pants. “Came over with your ass and tits out, been jerking off to the memory ever since.”
You inhale sharply, “Fuck.”
Your eyes flutter when his fingers find your cunt, squelching with the sound of your arousal. He dips one finger in, drawing a whimper from you, and god you’re so fucking warm. The weeds got you nice and lax, a small grin on your lips as he coaxes you with one thick finger and he's sure he's never wanted to fuck someone more.
Your grin turns into a broken cry when he adds another, lips quivering around the shape of his name. Ghost. Ghost?
His thumbs already on your lips, gaze strong on you, “Simon.”
You nod in quiet understanding, “Simon.”
There’s a sticky strip of arousal that clings to your panties when he slides them off your thighs and it takes everything in him not to bury his face below and smell.
You scramble to his sweats, tugging them down impatiently. He lifts his hips willingly, lets his strained cock smack against his abdomen angrily. You lick your lips when you see it, eyes wide at the sight.
He grips it by the base, thumb coming up to wipe at the precum spilling from the tip.
“Oh my god.” You groan, “Let me ride you, please.”
He slides lower on the couch, tapping your hips casually in agreement like he hadn’t been picturing you on top of him for weeks, “Go on.”
You rise to your knees above him, shaking hand grabbing his cock so lightly it makes his eyes flutter. You glide his tip along your seams until it snags at your entrance, and you make a soft noise when he pops through. You slide down eagerly as much as he holds your hips and grits through his teeth to take it slow.
Your head falls to his shoulder when you sink to the base, his head rolling to the back of the couch because you’re so fucking warm and tight, and the weed definitely isn’t helping because he’s feeling everything ten times worse.
And when you lift your hips, he swears he sees heaven between your thighs when you drop back down and your pussy makes an obscene squelch.
You bury your face in his neck, arms around his shoulders and just fucking go at it. Ass slamming against his so fast the room echoes with each slap. You whine high-pitched with each thrust like you aren’t the one setting the pace, like you aren’t the fucking yourself raw around his cock.
“Jesus, bird, slow down.” He grunts, fingers dimpling your skin.
He says it because your legs are shaking and there’s sweat beading on your chest, whimpers falling from your lips endlessly, but more so because he doesn’t want it to end this soon. When he hasn’t even laid you back properly to fuck you the way he had hoped.
You don’t listen well.
You just keep sloppily fucking yourself onto his cock because you’ve found the sweet spot, the one that has you on the brink of an orgasm.
His lips on your neck do it for you, your toes curling into his shitty ass couch when you break. You soak his balls then, pussy clenching so tight around him he has to bite down on his cheek so he doesn’t bust.
He’s already moving you to your back, finding a home between your thighs when you come back down. You don’t even argue, like the perfect thing you are, folding your own legs to his shoulders, and arching into the couch.
He slides in slow, and your pussy spreads for him so prettily.
“Fuck,” he drawls, “Listen to her, just fuckin dying for me to fuck her.”
You whine loud at that, hips bucking to get him to move. He doesn’t wait a second longer, thrusts so hard into you, you feel it in your toes and your legs straighten out in shock.
He fucks you slow and hard, pace languid from the weed pulsing in his veins. You like it, at least he thinks you do from the way you keep writhing under him, the beginning syllables of his name broken on your lips between every thrust.
When he leans forward, pressing your knees to your shoulders, you gasp in shock from the stretch, but then his tip snags against that spot in your cunt that melts your brain into mush, and your eyes just roll into the back of your head.
He smirks proudly, bullying his length against that spot until you’re pushing at hips, murmuring something along the lines that it’s too much.
He doesn’t stop.
You pulse around him when you cum a second time, sweet voice ripped from your throat, and turned into blinded pleasure when he stamps his thumb against your swollen clit. Your feet tense at his shoulders, fingers tight against the cushions.
He finishes inside of you then, head falling to your shoulder with a deep groan, hips fucking into you with each pump.
etc etc etc guy best friend agrees to be your sperm donor and now he's furiously masturbating in your bathroom, knowing that this cup of cum is soon going to be inside you
All I can think about now is reader who's 141's secretary, the one they've all been eyeing. Only the panic when you tell them all you're about to go to a fertility clinic to pick out a donor in the morning. They've all got enough alcohol in them...
You get up to go to the bathroom and end up with 3 different propositions.
Gaz texted his 'You know, if you want to save some money, I'll volunteer my services.
Johnny found you in line waiting for the bathroom and decides to tell you 'I hear Scot's contribute to genetics of not breaking bones, might be nice to have a little fun while makin' a wee 'un.'
Ghost, on the way back from grabbing the next round, drops a blunt. "Wouldn't have to pay for me to finish if you can take me and I'd lick it clean too." And then he's off like he just told you that your shoe had come untied.
You excuse yourself, a little overwhelmed only for your Captain to herd you away to his vehicle. And once your trapped in that inclosed space, he's purring out like a raspy tomcat how nice he could make it for you.
pairing aged-up!neteyam x avatar driver-scientist!reader
notes reader is a human avatar driver, captive romance, reverse stockholm syndrome 😭, grumpy neteyam, reader is that captive who is sooo talkative she makes her captors want to free her, smut (p in v, interspecies), oral (f&m receiving)
word count 26.8k
synopsis a botanical expedition with your fellow scientists was supposed to be nothing short of a fun field trip, except that it turned into something entirely unexpected. now, you find yourself held ‘captive’ by the omatikaya. granted, it’s not exactly a brutal imprisonment if you’re enjoying every single minute of it. the only problem is that your enjoyment has become the absolute bane of someone else’s existence—the incredibly grumpy eldest son of toruk makto.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The helicopter’s rotors beat a deafening pulse as it lowers itself down the thick rainforest canopy. You couldn’t believe your eyes, even though this wasn’t your first outing. From the point of view of a scholar who had spent her entire academic life studying everything about this world, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you were actually here, studying it firsthand.
As soon as the helicopter touched down with a heavy thud, the two recombinant soldiers you were with jumped out to check the parameters. You unbuckled your harness, stepping out onto the damp, glowing soil and smelling the sweet air but rolling your eyes immediately when your avatar’s heightened sense caught the strong smell of gas from the helicopter behind you. Its rotors were just slowing to a deep thrum that finally allowed you to hear your own voice.
“Look at this,” you looked down at where your boots were sinking slightly into a carpet of bioluminescent moss. “They don’t want to believe Dr. Grace Augustine’s study on how this glowing moss is hardwired to a planet-wide neural network, but that was definitely real.”
Marco unbuckled his harness shortly after, following your lead and stepping out right behind you. “Y/N, please. Let's not start the ’Grace Augustine was an unappreciated prophet’ monologue again,” he groaned, scanning the immediate perimeter nervously. “Her data on the electrochemical transduction between the roots was purely theoretical. The RDA board members back at Bridgehead call it ’tree-hugger mysticism’ for a reason. There’s no hard evidence of a literal collective consciousness.”
“That’s because the RDA board members have the intellectual capacity of a wet sponge, Marco,” you snapped back playfully, already dropping to your knees in the dirt. You dug a trowel into a patch of violet ferns, unbothered by the dampness seeping into your avatar's uniform. “They want everything to be quantifiable in tons of unobtanium. They can't handle the fact that the grass beneath their boots has a higher IQ than their entire legal department.”
Dr. Danel stepped out of the helicopter last, looking down at you with a fond, albeit tired smile. “Now, Y/N, science requires skepticism. Dr. Augustine was brilliant, but mapping a planet-wide neural network through a handful of localized root samples is a massive statistical leap.”
“Oh, come on, Doc!” You looked up, a massive grin breaking across your blue face as your tail flicked with pure excitement. “Look at the signal delay when I do this.”
You tapped the handle of your trowel sharply against a thick, exposed root of a nearby tree. Instantly, a wave of faint cyan light pulsed through the moss, rippling outward into the dark underbelly of the forest like a fallen domino.
“See that?” you pointed, leaning in so close your nose almost touched the dirt. “That is not a localized reflex. That is a synapse firing! If Earth’s neurologists weren't so incredibly arrogant, if they just believed in something beyond what can be explained by their rigid Earth science, they could easily get a PhD in neurology just by studying the damn grass here!”
Marco snorted, shaking his head as he maneuvered his datapad. “Sure. A course about advanced synaptic botany, taught by a blade of grass, would be so loved by Ivy Leaguers.”
You rolled your eyes. “Who cares about what they love? We’re on Pandora!” you said. “And I'm serious!” you insisted, scooping a pristine sample of the glowing soil into a sterile jar. “Back on Earth, human neurologists spend decades slicing up organic brains, trying to figure out how a hundred billion neurons create a thought. Meanwhile, out here, Pandora just grew a giant, macroscopic brain and let us walk around inside it. You don't need a scalpel to study this mind, Marco. You just need an open mind.”
Dr. Danel chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “It’s a beautiful hypothesis, Y/N. But until we can map the exact neurotransmitter equivalents traveling through those roots, the military heads at Bridgehead are going to keep treating this world like a parking lot waiting to happen.”
“Then they're fools,” you muttered, sealing the jar as you looked at the back of a recombinant soldier. “Because you don't fight a brain this big. It’s going to outsmart them just as it did in the First Pandoran War with Jake Sully.”
Before Marco could counter your argument with another dry, skeptical remark, all of you grew silent as one of the recoms threw a fist in the air. Dr. Danel looked at them with a deeply worried frown. “Keep your weapons low, Corporal. We are here strictly for ecological sampling. If we trigger a political incident with the Omatikaya, the General will have our heads.”
“Relax, Doc,” the soldier smirked. “We’re just keeping our eyes peeled for the blues.”
Your head snapped to the side, your large, sensitive ears twitching violently backward, catching the unmistakeable sound of footsteps against the moss. The recom near a foliage clutched his heavy assault rifle and pointed it into a void before shooting in the air.
“Stop! What are you doing!” Dr. Danel shouted over the gunfire.
You heard another sound, sharp and cutting, and the next rhing you saw was a massive arrow tearing through the air, embedding itself directly into the chest of the soldier who fired the shots. He didn't even have time to scream before the sheer force threw his massive body backward into the dirt.
“Ambush!” The other recom roared, instantly raising his rifle and blind-firing into the dense thicket. The thunderous crack of gunfire shattered the peaceful morning.
“Get back in the chopper! Now!” Dr. Danel screamed, struggling to reach out from the open bay door, his blue hands outstretched toward you. “Y/N! Marco!”
Everything dissolved into a chaotic blur and from the branches above, massive shadows dropped with a swift, terrifying grace. You saw a massive Na'vi warrior collided with the uninjured recom, sending both of them crashing into the underbrush.
“Y/N!” Marco shrieked. He tried to jump out of the rising chopper to grab your arm, but he was hauled back when the pilot panicked and pulling the chopper upward to escape the hail of arrows. “No! Y/N!”
You scrambled backward on your hands and knees, your specimen jar shattering against a root. Before your brain could even choose between flight-or-fight, a massive, muscular arm strongly wrapped around your waist. You let out a high-pitched shriek as your body was effortlessly hauled up in the air, your feet kicking.
“Stop moving!” A harsh voice barked in your ear.
You blinked through your panic, looking around the clearing. The second soldier was dead, but the other was severely wounded on the ground, surrounded by three Na'vi warriors who had his arms pinned. And holding your by the arm now was a fiercely built Na'vi with striking golden eyes, a stern jawline, and a beautifully crafted bow slung over his shoulder.
“Okay, first of all, ouch!” you gasped, wiggling your arm against his iron grip. “Second of all, we were literally just collecting dirt! Do you see this? It's a trowel! It’s for digging, not for conquering! We are peaceful academics!”
The man narrowed his eyes at you before his head jerked to the nearest man. “Bind her. And secure the recom. We take them to my father.”
You understood that Na’vi and you panicked. “Bind me?! No need! I will go peacefully. I mean, my companions are gone and I might not survive alone here, honestly speaking,” you rambled. “Tell me, which people are you? See, I know a few clan names, just from what I’ve read, but the most famous one was the Omatikaya. Jake Sully’s clan. Oh, Jake Sully, my fellow. You know him? And Norm Spellman? I know them both. Parasocially, of course—”
The man yanked your arm, forcing you into a march. “Keep moving.”
“Ouch! Be careful with me!” you said, only to shriek again when you were hauled up by your waist and flopped down on the back of a huge direhorse. “Wow, you are so nice!”
The man mounted behind you, his hand gathering your hands so fast you haven’t even able to get a word out and your hands were bounded. You turned your head to look at the man with a glare.
“Oh, this was unnecessary!” you complained.
You felt his large hand on your head, forcing it to turn back to the path and you groaned in annoyance. The march back to the Omatikaya stronghold was an absolute nightmare, but mostly for Neteyam. Not you. For a captive who had just survived a lethal ambush, you possessed a completely infuriating trust and hope for your captors. Your legs were swinging on the direhorse as if it were just an ordinary ride and he had never met someone so talkative.
Once, during the ride, you leaned back toward his body and produced a very inappropriate sound. He suddenly regretted knowing your tongue, because it was torture. You even managed to speak in minimal Na’vi to make sure you were including his warriors to your pep talks.
“You know, you have an impressive wall of muscle. The muscular structure of your quadriceps is fascinating,” you chatted amiably, touching his thigh with your pointing finger and removing it before he could even swat your hand away. “You have a distinct body structure from the other dudes in general. Jesus, what are they feeding you? I bet you’re their strongest warrior. Like Achilles to the Greeks or something. And that stunt in the tree you did? Oh, my femurs would literally turn into chalk. Crack. Just dust.” You nodded at him. “By the way, my name is Y/N. What’s yours? You look like a... Nathan. Do you have a Na'vi equivalent for Nathan?”
He didn’t answer and he hated how curious he was. What’s a Nathan? He’d have to ask Jake about that.
“And you!” You pointed to another warriors. “Wow, the braids. Did you do those yourself or is there a designated hair-stylist in your clan? Because the symmetry is immaculate. Truly. I tried to braid my avatar’s hair three days ago and I looked like an electrocuted direhorse.”
Neteyam kicked his direhorse to a halt, stopping it dead in its tracks. The entire column of warriors halted behind him. You turned to him curiously.
“Uhm, why did we stop? Are we finally here—”
“You do not stop speaking,” Neteyam hissed, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You are a prisoner of war. You should be weeping. You should be praying to your false gods.”
Your jaw dropped. He is speaking your tongue, and his voice is sexy. “Oh, you have a sexy English voice. Did you know that? Just deep and gravelly, so hot,” you flashed him a smile. “And honestly, crying burns calories, and I’m already hungry so—”
With a swift, fed-up motion, Neteyam snatched a thick strip of a woven strip from his satchel. Before you could move, his massive hand put the strip into your mouth, tying it securely behind your head.
“Mmph?!” you protested, your eyes widening.
“If you make another sound, I will tie you to my direhorse backwards,” Neteyam warned, his face inches from yours.
Oh, you are lucky to be so handsome right now, you groaned. You’d claw his face if you could! You rolled your eyes, giving a muffled, sassy huff through your nose, and sat properly.
“There,” he said in a low voice near your ear, sending a weird electricity throughout your body.
You felt a weird tingling between your thighs and looked down as if you could see the biological mechanisms of what’s happening in your avatar body. Your eyes narrowed and your jaw dropped. Oh, absolutely. You didn’t know that an avatar body could feel turned on, too, and that it has mechanisms at all for that. You wondered if it works just like a human body.
When the hunting party finally broke through the dense foliage, you were treated to a view of a massive tree. A hometree. “Whoa... This is your home?” you uttered in a muffled voice.
“What? Can’t understand you,” the man behind you said, and when you turned to him, you saw a satisfied smirk on his face.
You groaned, but the shift in the atmosphere already got your attention. The Hometree was massive, it was insane, and in front of its hollowed out entrance stood a large man whose physique differs from those around him. Your gasp was muffled, but you realized that tha was Jake Sully. Looking every bit the legendary, battle-hardened resistance leader he was painted to be in every news you’ve watched about him.
The man behind you dismounted, lifting you off the direhorse in a swift move just as the other warriors were shoving the wounded Recombinant to the ground.
“Sir. We found them near the eastern borders, accompanied by a Samson. One is dead, the others escaped, and we brought this one alive.”
Jake's eyes immediately locked onto the wounded Recombinant before looking at another warrioe. “Get him treated, we need him alive. He’s an asset.”
You, however, were completely ignoring the political drama. Your eyes had landed squarely on Norm Spellman. Your muffled “Mmmph!” becoming incredibly loud.
Norm, noticing your eyes on him, blinked. “Uh, Neteyam. What's up with that one?”
Neteyam sighed heavily. “She has a sickness of the mouth. She does not stop.” With an irritated jerk of his hand, Neteyam reached out and untied your gag.
The moment the leather cleared your lips, you took a deep breath and gasped, “Norm? Norm Spellman?”
Norm froze. “Uh... yeah?”
From the shadows of a nearby rock, you heard someone saying, “A Norm fan? Wow. That's a first for Pandora.” And when you whipped your heard, you saw a grown white man wearing only a loincloth.
You ignored him and looked back at Norm again. “I’ve read every single one of your published papers on the exoflora of the Western Frontier!” you blurted out, your tail swishing with genuine euphoria. “Your study on how Pandoran trees use electrical pulses to communicate with each other was foundational to my entire master's thesis! I can't believe it! You're a legend!”
Norm’s chest instantly puffed out. He looked over at Jake with a smug, self-satisfied grin. “Oh, a small thing. Wait, are you working for the RDA?”
“Not really working working for them, but I’m a scholar. I only really care about the flora and fauna, nothing else,“ you replied.
Norm shared a meaningful look with Jake who shifted his gaze to you. Before he could even speak, you jumped right at it again.
“And you! You’re like... the ultimate legendary villain back on Earth. They literally have a three-hour documentary about how you single-handedly ruined humanity’s chance for a brand new life in a brand new world. I am so incredibly honored to meet you,” you offered him your bounded hands.
He looked down at it, his hand politely holding your jutting out fingers and shaking it lightly before letting go.
“But honestly, I understand you. Humanity doesn’t really mean humanity, anyway, right? They won’t be transferring everyone. At least not the billions of humans on Earth. Only those who have billions. So, seriously, the battle of the Hallelujah Mountains? Masterclass.”
Jake was utterly dumbfounded. He looked at Neteyam, then back to you, completely unsure of how to process everything you’re saying. Neteyam placed a hand over his face, shaking his head.
“I apologize, Dad. I should have left her in the woods. I will put her in the upper cells.” The man beside you said, and your jaw dropped.
“Dad?!” you echoed, your head snapping to the man and looking at Jake. “You are Jake Sully’s son? No way! That’s why you’re built different, huh—”
“Get that man to the underground cells,” Neteyam’s deep voice cut your rambling off, and you saw the warriors drag the Recom by his shirt. “And you, if you don’t shut up, I will put you underground, too.”
“Is that a euphemism for burying alive? If so, then no, you don’t need to do that! I will shut up, now,” you nodded at him with a serious look on your face.
“Good,” he replied, his large hand wrapping at your forearm and started dragging you into the Hometree.
The hollowed-out trunk spans upwards and an intricate winding ramp was so beautiful, you couldn't wrap your head around the fact that it was definitely made by hands. The upper cells were situated three levels up and your cell was a naturally hollowed-out alcove with thick, curling wooden bars to close off the entrance.
Neteyam removed your bindings, his eyes narrowed as he watched you with deep suspicion, gently pushing you inside. To you, it didn't look like a jail cell. It looked like something out of a fairytale. There was even a window-like hole to let in air which also allows you to look at the surrounding verdant bush outside.
“This is gorgeous,” you muttered, running your fingers along the smooth, glowing moss on the root wall. “It’s like living inside a luxury treehouse. It reminds me of those storybook rabbits!”
You turned to him when you heard the door close. You put a hand on your hip, watching him secure it by a heavy leather latch on the outside. Your eyes narrowed.
“No need for that though, even if I wanted to run away, I wouldn’t have known how to go back to Bridgehead.” you said, sitting on the woven hammock, removing your boots.
He stood outside the bars, watching you do a yoga easy sit on the hammock.
“Neteyam, right?” you asked, putting your palms together. His eyes dropped to your hands, his forehead creasing. “Quick question. The Recombinant soldier. Is he going to live? Because from a scholarly standpoint, seeing how his synthetic Na’vi biology handles physical trauma under stress is a once-in-a-lifetime research opportunity for me—”
You were cut off when he simply turned on his heel and walked away into the shadows of the upper tunnels. Your lips parted, pointing a finger to where he disappeared. You stood up, walking to the bars.
“Wow! The nerve of this man!” you yelled after him, throwing your hands up. “A simple ‘I don't know,’ would have sufficed! Oh, you rude, rude man! Super rude!”
You turned around, letting out an annoyed sigh, and banged a closed fist against the wooden bars. The sounds of footsteps nearby reminded you that you weren't alone, though, because standing a few paces away were two young warriors assigned to guard duty. They were gripping their spears tightly, looking all fierce and imposing.
You smirked. Target acquired.
“Hey guys,” you said in Na’vi, sliding down the bars until you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at them through the gaps. “So, since you’re going to be my best friends for the foreseeable future, we might as well chat. I’m Y/N. What are your names?”
The guards exchanged a tense glance. The taller one muttered something in rapid Na'vi to his companion.
“Oh, I caught that! You don’t need to be afraid. Surely, they won’t punish you for talking? Unless the Olo’eyktan of Frown Town called Neteyam will get mad about that,” you said. Your accent was a little clunky, but your vocabulary was shockingly vast. “My grammar is bad, but I have a big heart. I’m going to tell you right here, right now that I do not like the RDA. They are... how do you say... greedy parasites who smell like burning gasoline?”
The shorter guard's mouth twitched. He quickly bit his lower lip to hide a smile.
“Seriously!” you pressed on, leaning your cheek against the wood. “I am a scholar! I do not support their violence and destruction of your world.”
A snort escaped the taller guard. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, but the dam had broken.
“You... speak our tongue,” the shorter one said, stepping a bit closer. “Though you sound like a seven-year-old who isn’t sure of her words.”
“I'm doing my best here,” you laughed, your tail flicking playfully behind you. “What's your name, short-and-judgmental?”
“I am Si’an,” he said, a reluctant grin breaking across his face. “And this is Aleto.”
You nodded. “Nice names. Does it mean anything?” you curiously asked and they moved closer to properly chat with you.
When it was time to sleep, you pulled the soft blanket Aleto had smuggled for you up to your chin. You closed your eyes, the bioluminescent glow of the walls fading into a flash of sterile, blinding white light. A harsh hiss echoed in your ears as the pressurized seal of the link pod broke, replacing the warm, rich air outside by the synthetic, recycled chill of Bridgehead’s tech-bay.
You coughed slightly as your throat adjusted to the atmosphere, holding onto something so you could sit up. There was a crowd of tech-assistants and scientists around you, at forefront being Dr. Danel and Marco, their faces pale. Behind them, standing like a dark cloud, was the military division head, General Ardmore's deputy, alongside a couple of armed security guards.
“Y/N! Shit! Oh, thank goodness,” Marco blurted out, helping you up. “We thought you were dead! The chopper pilot said the whole clearing was crawling with hostiles!”
“Where is your avatar?” Dr. Danel asked, his voice worried as he checked your vitals monitor. “Is the link stable? What happened?”
You swung your legs over the edge of the pod, looking around the crowded lab and taking a deep breath. You delivered the news with complete, deadpan gravity.
“I’m in jail.”
Their faces looked like a cluster of colorful balloons had just been violently popped. The entire room went dead silent.
“Jail?” Dr. Danel echoed, his jaw dropping. “The Na'vi have... a penal system?”
You shook your head. “No, no. It’s more of like a dungeon, honestly,” you lied, your eyes sliding over to the military official who was now pushing his way through the scientists.
The soldier leaned over your pod. “Where is Corporal Jeong? The Recom soldier who was taken with you.”
You immediately schooled your face into an expression of vacant, traumatized innocence. You shook your head slowly. “I don't know, sir. The moment the Na’vis dropped from the trees, everything went completely sideways. I was blindfolded almost immediately. I couldn't see a thing.”
“Did you catch on to who got you? Which clan? Where their base of operations is?” the commander pressed, his eyes narrowing
You glanced briefly at Dr. Danel before looking back at the officer, widening your eyes. “N-No. Like I said, I was blindfolded the entire time and the next thing I know, I’m at the bottom of a dark, wooden hole. I haven't seen a single tactical layout.”
The commander gave a tight, deeply unsatisfied nod. “If they bring you out for interrogation, or if you catch any geographical markers through the link, you notify us immediately. Understood? You are our eyes inside the enemy's perimeter.”
“Understood, sir,” you lied flawlessly.
The moment the military detail cleared out, Dr. Danel and Marco practically dragged you by your arms into the break room, giving you a bottle of water and a heated bowl of food.
“Alright, what’s really going on?” Marco hissed, handing you a cup of hot coffee now. “Was that true? You don’t know where you are?”
You took a slow sip of your coffee, keeping your mouth firmly shut. You had made a decision the moment Neteyam dragged you into that spectacular tree trunk. If the RDA found out you were sitting in the literal heart of the Pandoran resistance, they would turn your link pod into a military tracking beacon. They would use your eyes to map out a strike zone and to kill Jake Sully, once and for all.
You were a scientist of life, not an asset for a corporate war machine. Your sole purpose now was to earn the trust of the Omatikaya, to get them to open that wooden door so you could study the magnificent, interconnected mind of this world.
“It’s true,” you said quietly, looking Marco dead in the eye. “And if I know anything, I'm not telling the military a damn thing. I am here to continue my PhD. I am not a spy.”
Dr. Danel let out a long, heavy sigh, but to your surprise, a small, proud smile touched his lips. “Good. Keep it that way. If the General's office smells even a whiff, they will take over your life completely. Just like what they tried to do with Jake Sully.”
“Just be careful, Y/N,” Marco warned, though he looked relieved even as he rolled his eyes. “Wherever you are.”
Because of the immense pressure, you became incredibly strict with your schedule. You spent your human hours locked in the Bridgehead labs, meticulously analyzing the soil samples you had managed to bring back, utilizing the high-tech RDA equipment to catalog data before swiftly diving back into the link pod. You couldn't afford to waste time. Every hour your avatar slept was an hour you could be earning the trust of the Omatikaya.
The next morning, Si’an and Aleto were joined by another young hunter and by noon, you had taught them the universal, high-stakes psychological thriller known as Rock, Paper, Scissors.
“No, Aleto, listen,” you explained patiently, your face pressed against the gap in the wooden bars. “The stone smashes the scissors. The scissors cut the paper. The paper covers the stone. It is a cycle of inevitable destruction.”
“But why does paper defeat stone?” Tseru asked, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. “A stone can tear through a leaf easily.”
“It blankets the stone, Tseru! It smothers its power!” you argued dramatically, throwing your hands up. “Don’t question the ancient lore of Earth. Now, on three. Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!”
You thrust out a flat hand for paper. Aleto threw out two fingers for scissors. He let out a triumphant, booming warrior cry that echoed through the upper canopy of Hometree, thrusting his spear into the air. “I have cut your paper!”
“Ah, a worthy adversary,” you sighed, shaking your head. “You win this round. Now hand over that blue fruit you’re hiding behind your back.”
As Aleto happily passed the sweet treat through the bars, you felt a familiar cue at the back of your consciousness, the digital tether of the link gently pulling you back for a scheduled maintenance cycle.
“Alright, boys, the link is pulling me back for a bit,” you warned them, shifting back onto your woven hammock and pulling up a blanket to your chin. “Don't miss me too much. Practice your tactics.”
“We will guard your cell, Y/N,” Si'an promised solemnly, puffing out his chest.
You spent the rest of the day working in the lab, letting the military guards see you conscious in your human form to show them that there was indeed nothing you could do with your avatar confined in a dungeon somewhere none of you know. You keep up at this, living your double lives seamlessly.
By week two, your cell had ceased to be a prison. It had officially become the hottest social club at Hometree. Word of the many Terran games you were teaching your guards had spread through the adolescent hunter ranks like wildfire. One day, when you linked back into your avatar form, the cell was practically buzzing.
You opened your eyes not just to the usual thrre guards, but seven young warriors huddled outside your bars, arguing heatedly over their hand positions.
“No! Tseru is cheating! His hand was a stone, but then he changed it to paper when he saw my scissors!” Si'an shouted, his tail thrashing in high-stakes frustration.
“I did not! The stone simply unfolded due to the wind!” Tseru countered defensively.
You sat up on your hammock, stretching your long blue arms, a massive grin breaking across your face. “Well, well, well. Look at this. A regular tournament of champions.”
The warriors instantly turned to you, their faces lighting up. “Y/N! You are awake!” Aleto cheered, rushing to the bars. “Teach us another. The finger-game has caused three arguments and Tseru owes me his favorite hunting knife.”
“Alright, alright, settle down,” you laughed, sliding off the hammock and sitting cross-legged at the gate. “Since you guys like tactical competition, let me introduce you to a little thing called Charades.”
For the next two hours, the upper cells of Hometree became a theater of absolute, unadulterated chaos. You had fierce, deadly Omatikaya warriors, men who could take down a large Samson with a single arrow, frantically flailing their arms, hopping on one foot, and mimicking the movements of various forest creatures while the others screamed guesses at the top of their lungs.
“An ikran! No, a sturmbeest! Why are you shaking your hips like that, Aleto? Is it a sick direhorse?!”
“It is a viperwolf catching a bug!” Aleto yelled, exasperated, collapsing against the wooden bars while you wiped tears of laughter from your eyes.
“No, no, he was clearly a very dramatic prolemuris,” you corrected, leaning your head against the bars. “You guys are terrible at this. I love it.”
Si’an smiled warmly, handing you a beautifully carved wooden cup filled with sweet water. “The sky people must have a very strange world if this is how you spend your days. Do you not have forests to run through?”
Your smile softened, your tail giving a quiet, reflective twitch. “We used to, Si’an. Earth was a beautiful planet once. Green, vibrant, full of life. But humans... Well, humans thought a concrete jungle was better. We built too many metal boxes, burned too much black oil, and we choked Terran.”
And that’s what this world needed protection from. Humans don’t know when to stop.
The young warriors fell silent and you sighed, waving a dismissive hand, and telling them about reality television and explained the concept of a cat instead. You were completely unbothered by your captive status and was endlessly entertained by the warriors guarding your cell. They brought you the softest bedding, the sweetest fruits, and would literally sit in front of your cell to talk to you about Pandora and your life back on Earth.
Meanwhile, Neteyam has been having terrible days.
It started at the training grounds. He had been trying to instruct the younger hunters on aerial tracking maneuvers, only to find half of his squad huddled in a circle, giggling. When he demanded to know what was so amusing, one of them had blurted out, “Neteyam, did you know that on Terran, they have tiny glowing boxes where people pretend to be animals for currency?”
He had traced the source of this sudden intellectual corruption directly back to your cell.
Neteyam marched down pathways leading to the cells and as he rounded the corner, his lips parted. There were no less than eight warriors sitting in a semi-circle outside your bars. You were leading them in a clumsy, boisterous rendition of an unfamiliar song, conducting them with a piece of kindling wood.
“What is this gathering?”
The deep, gravelly, instantly recognizable voice cut through the warm atmosphere. The warriors froze. Slowly, every single head turned to find Neteyam standing a few paces away. You pressed your head against the bars, trying to see him. You saw him with his arms crossed over his broad, muscular chest and his golden eyes were flashing with thunderous fury.
You blinked, totally unbothered, and offered him a cheery wave. “Hi, Commander! Perfect timing. Grab a spot on the floor, Aleto is up next and—”
“Everyone, OUT!” Neteyam roared.
The warriors scattered like wood-sprites caught in a flash of lightning. Spears were grabbed, apologies were muttered, and within three seconds, the corridor was empty, leaving only Neteyam standing outside the bars, his chest heaving with irritation.
You blew a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, leaning against the bars with a heavy pout as you looked up at him. “Wow. You really know how to kill a vibe, Neteyam. We were right at the chorus.”
“You are a plague,” Neteyam hissed, stepping right in front of you, his golden eyes blazing down at you. “You are a captive of the Omatikaya, yet you have turned my warriors into simpletons. They speak of stupid games and stupid animals—”
“Oi, communication bridges the gap between warring factions!” you argued, crossing your arms. “Besides, your warriors were stressed. A little cultural exchange is good for moral support. You should try it sometime. You look like you haven't smiled since the turn of the century.”
“Stop,” he commanded. “You will stop distracting them. You will sit in the dark, and you will be quiet. You are an enemy.”
You stared at him, your playful demeanor vanishing, replaced by a sharp, stubborn glint in your eyes. “An enemy? I haven't done a single thing to hurt your people. But fine. If you want a dangerous, silent prisoner so badly... you got it.”
You crossed your arm and hissed like a kitten, showing him your fangs before you turned your back on him. His head reared back a little, watching you lie on your sleeping mat in the furthest corner of the cell, and went completely still. His forehead creased at how his chest fluttered, making him almost smile for whatever reason.
But he caught himself immediately, pushing against the wooden bars and walking away.
For two full days, you did not say a single word. But that was simply because you didn’t link back that much to yout avatar so you won’t have to suffer. When Ateyo brought you fresh fish and roasted fruits, you didn't even turn back. You remained curled in a tight ball, staring blankly at the root wall. You didn't eat. You didn't drink. In your avatar form of course, because as a human, you were eating good.
Because of this, the warriors were in a state of absolute crisis. They were so dramatic about it at the training grounds, you’d think they’d lost their grandmother, but when Neteyam tried to eavesdropped, it was just them talking about how you look so weak and how you’re probably suffering from the fact that you’re not eating and socializing.
“The poor girl is fading,” one of them sighed.
“Is there something we can do to put a stop to Neteyam’s cruelty toward her?”
Cruelty? Neteyam protested in his mind. When he told you to stop talking to his warriors days ago, he didn’t expect you would go on a hunger strike! Now, his warriors are turning against him in silent protest for his cruelty toward you. You could literally create your own army of warriors who would do your bidding for you, and that’s what’s clear to him.
He went to your cell by nightfall, seeing you still curled up to your mat. “Hey,” he called out, waiting for you to move but you didn’t. His eyes narrowed, unfastening the lock.
He went inside, walking toward your mat and putting a hand over your arm to nudge you. Your dead weight surprised him, your body getting carried by his nudge. His heart fell to his stomach, his eyes widening a little as he gently shook you.
“Hey,“ he nudged but to no avail. “Fuck.” he whispered, squeezing your arm.
You’re warm and your flesh isn’t rigid, but what’s with the dead weight? He scooped you into his arms, walking out of the cell. Your warrior friends who saw him locked in right away when they saw you in his arms as he was walking down the pathway.
“Oh, Great Mother, what happened to her?” Aleto asked.
“I knew it, she’s going to die anytime soon because of this!” Si’an said with a shaky voice, both of them following Neteyam as he stepped up the winding ramp to the healing pavilion.
“What’s going on?” Another warrior asked when they passed by.
By the time they reached the pavillion, there were at least nine warriors tailing him, all of them worried. He turned to them before he went inside though, snarling, “Go back to your posts.”
They reluctantly scrambled away, but still looking back to see what they could before he entered the pavilion. Kiri looked up as soon as he did, her brows furrowed. “What happened?”
“She’s not... waking up. She refused to eat for days and now, she’s just... this,” he said, pulling your body closer to his body.
“Put her down there,“ she gestured on a mat. “Is she the avatar brought in weeks ago?”
“Yeah,” he croaked.
Kiri checked your vitals. “You’ll have to call Dad, we’ll ask him,” she said.
Neteyam did. While Jake already knew that it was just a case of the driver not linking to the avatar, his son’s uncharacteristic panicking is suddenly too entertaining to not witness further. He stood in the pavillion, watching Kiri show him how dead you are.
Once Jake assured him that your avatar body was perfectly healthy but simply throwing a massive, stubborn tantrum, Neteyam took matters into his own hands. He brought in a tray of food in the pavilion and waited for you to wake up, if you will. And you did. Your eyes peeled open suddenly, your head swiveling until your eyes landed on the man sitting a few feet away.
“Great. She’s awake,” he says. “And the food’s still hot. Eat,” he ordered flatly.
“Whoa, he goes straight to business,” you mumbled but you didn’t move.
Neteyam crouched down, his shadow looming over your form. “Y/N. Stop this foolishness. Do not do this to punish me,” he said in a deep voice.
You rolled on your stomach. “I am not punishing you!” you said in a small voice, giggling.
Your face was noticeably pale, and your lips were dry, it was all starting to tug at Neteyam’s heartstrings until a wicked spark flared on your face. He threw his head back, knowing you’re about to say something crazy again.
“But do you feel punished?” you asked, smirking at him. “Is that why you came crawling back for me to forgive you?”
Neteyam clenched his jaw so hard a muscle leaped in his cheek. “I just don’t want your death on my hands,” he said.
You pouted. “You’re sooo concerned, it really flatters me,“ you teased, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, leaning dangerously close to his space.
Neteyam stood up so fast he nearly hit his head on the low ceiling root. “You are insufferable,” he growled, turning on his heel and storming out of the tent.
You burst into a loud, echoing laugh that followed him all the way to the pathways. He spinned on his heels again, barging back into the tent and seeing you dragging the tray to eat.
“Good. Eat, because I’m bringing you back to your cell,” he said.
You groaned, your feet kicking in protest. “This isn’t my new room? I could really get cozy in here!” your fingers grabbed a cut up roasted meat and brought it to your mouth.
“This is the healing pavilion,” he replied seriously, standing rigidly by the entrance.
“Can I request something?” you asked. “I seriously need an outfit change and a bath. You know, back on Earth, prisoners have rights. They get bath time and outfit changes—”
“I’ll take care of that,” he said before walking away.
You narrowed your eyes. “So rude,” you smirked, munching on the meat.
He returned just as you were cleaning your leaf off, carrying a bundle of soft, woven fabrics. His eyes tracked how you were reclining on the mat, your long legs stretched out and your upper body propped on one elbow. You licked your fingers off, smiling at him and his lips pulled back in what looked like a snarl before he dropped the fabrics on a nearby low table.
“Here.“
You moved to inspect it, blinking as you realized that they were going to complete your whole Na’vi experience. There was a yellow beaded top and a soft purple loincloth.
“You really made sure I will look like a stunner with my new outfit. I love these,” you smirked.
Neteyam let out a low, visceral groan of pure regret. “If you do not shut your mouth, I will throw you back to your cell without the bath.”
You moaned, standing up as you held the fabrics under your arm. “These threats are starting to sound like flirting to me, Commander, so maybe pipe down.” You widened your eyes at him.
He didn’t respond but you saw how his whole face protested against that, making you chuckle as he led you down the pathway toward the winding ramp. You waved a hand to the warriors you know, seeing them perk up knowing that you’re alright.
The walk to the lower root pools was a masterclass in psychological warfare. For Neteyam, at least. You were unbounded, walking freely beside him, and you did not let up for a single second.
“You know, for a high-ranking commander, you walk very stiffly,” you noted, tilting your head as you matched his long strides. “Are all Na’vi men this tense, or is it just the specialized training for the grumpy ones?”
Neteyam stared straight ahead. “I am tense because you are currently walking next to me instead of being in jail.”
“Ouch,” you gasped, placing a dramatic hand over your chest. “But seriously, look at the view! Everything is gorgeous today. Don’t you ever just want to stop and smell the flowers, Neteyam?”
“No. It’s my everyday view.”
“What about a song? Do you enjoy songs—”
“We’re getting closer to the pools,” he cut you off, his voice dropping an octave as he finally snapped his gaze toward you. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll change my mind and really bring you back to your cell without bath privileges.”
You grinned, entirely unfazed. “See? Look at us, communicating! Building a rapport! This is just great!” You raised both hands.
By the time you reached the secluded lower root pools, Neteyam looked like a man who had survived a war but wasn’t sure he’d survive the peace. The area was beautiful and the sunlight provides a dappled glow over a deep natural basin. Neteyam stopped at the edge of the clearing, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You have ten minutes. I will be standing right here. Face the other way, do your business, and do not make a sound.”
“Ten minutes? For a bath and an outfit change?” you scoffed. “I am an Earth girl, Neteyam. I need a longer time than that! Plus, I have to figure out how to put this loincloth on without accidentally flashing the entire clan.”
Neteyam’s ears twitched violently. He immediately turned his back to you, facing the pathway. “You have nine minutes now. Start scrubbing.”
You chuckled, stepping down into the warm, soothing water. The relief was instant, washing away the grime and stiffness of your avatar’s dramatic captive activity. You splashed around a bit, entirely on purpose, listening to the sharp, annoyed sigh that escaped Neteyam’s lips every time a droplet hit the bank near his feet.
“Neteyam...” you called out.
“What?” he grumbled, refusing to turn around.
“How do you guys get your hair so shiny? Is it a specific leaf? Give me the secrets.”
“I am not giving you hair care advice. Five minutes.”
“Boo. Selfish,” you teased, doing a thumbs down behind his back.
After thoroughly rinsing off and using the saps he gave you, you stepped out of the pool, shivering slightly as the cool breeze hit your damp skin. You grabbed the woven fabrics and began the highly ungraceful process of figuring it out.
The beaded top was simple enough, but the purple loincloth presented a serious problem. “Neteyam...” you called again. “We have a tactical error.”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything! But this loincloth did. Are there instructions for this? Because right now, if I tie this the way I think I'm supposed to, one strong gust of wind is going to ruin your day.”
Neteyam pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders dropping in sheer exhaustion. “It is a standard wrap.”
“Easy for you to say, you’ve been wearing them your whole life! Come here and help me. I promise I won't bite. Unless you want me to...” You made him hear the clank of your teeth biting.
He spun around, a snarl ready on his lips, but as soon as he saw you, he froze. You were holding the fabric securely against your waist, looking thoroughly confused... and so adorable with the little pout that a hot flush creeped up the back of his neck.
Marching over to you with determined steps, he took the ends of the fabric from your hands. You grinned and clapped without a sound, while he focused entirely on the knot, trying to ignore the fact that he was so close to you that some droplets from your hair is on his arm.
“You’re actually really good at this,” you spoke, breaking the moment of tensed silence. “This should be your side hustle. Personal stylist to the prisoners.”
Neteyam pulled the knot tight, a little harder than necessary, making you huff. He stepped back instantly, his expression locking back into a stern mask, though his ears were still pointing out to the sides in clear fluster.
“It is done,” he said flatly, gesturing toward. “Now, back to the cell.”
You looked down at yourself. The yellow beads and vibrant purple looking surprisingly striking on you. You gave him a little twirl and he hated that he liked how you look like in a traditional Na’vi clothes a little too much.
“Honestly? 10 out of 10. I look fantastic,” you declared, confidently walking past him and taking the lead on the path back. “You can walk behind me now, Commander. I know you want to admire your handywork.”
Neteyam let out a sound that was half-growl, half-laugh, shaking his head as he followed you. “May Eywa give me strength,” he whispered.
“She won’t!” you called back cheerfully over your shoulder.
As you two walked up, you spotted Tseru from a distance and he immediately smiled at you. You raised your arm, making a huge wave of your hand, almost walking up to him until you felt Neteyam’s hand on your elbow.
“Another thing. From now on, the guard rotation is canceled. The warriors are completely forbidden from speaking to you. You distract them.”
You gasped dramatically, “You can’t just cut my social life off! Isolation can kill!“ you reasoned, but he already started walking. A slow, Cheshire-cat grin spread across your face as you jogged up behind him, playfully pointing a finger at his back. “But oh, I know this game!”
He stopped abruptly, making you jump. “What game?”
You laughed, your voice echoing in the cavern. “You want me all to yourself?”
He blinked. You saw his ears pin back against his head, like a cat backed in a corner, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve heard that my games are fun and you’re curious, and you—”
He sighed heavily, cutting you off. “Jail.”
He grabbed your wrist and marched down the pathway, bringing you back to your cell. You bounced on your heels, probably the happiest prisoner he’s ever going to see. He pulled the bars shut, and the absolute moment his back was turned and he was out of your sight, Neteyam closed his eyes, a breathless, helpless laugh bubbling up in his chest that he had to bite his own lip to suppress.
A seasoned Omatikaya warrior, not one of your minions, was standing a few paces away, guarding the main thoroughfare, looking at Neteyam with a highly raised eyebrow.
Neteyam instantly wiped the smile from his face, jerking his head toward the man with an authoritative air.
“Don't talk to her.”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The hum of the tech-bay at Bridgehead felt colder than usual as you slid out of the link pod. You didn't even have time to shake off your phantom tail before a shadow fell over your pod.
It was the same grumpy military official from before. He at least waited for you to sit on your swivel chair and drink water before he spoke. “Over a month in a hole and you’re telling me you still haven’t heard a single name? No geographical markers? No anything?”
You blinked up at him, your expression a masterclass in exhausted trauma. “Sir, with all due respect, I am a scientist, not a human GPS. They keep me underground. It’s dark. The only thing I hear is the occasional terrifying growl of whatever alien megafauna they have guarding the perimeter. I am already doing my best to keep a billion-dollar worth of avatar body alive.”
The commander sneered, clearly unsatisfied, but muttered a warning about “withholding operational data” before storming out of the tech-bay.
Once the doors hissed shut, Dr. Danel stepped forward, waving the rest of the lab staff away until it was just you, him, and Marco by the centrifuge station. “Kid. Look at me. You’re a brilliant scholar, but you are a terrible liar to people who actually know you. Where are you really?”
You glanced at the security cameras, then sighed, leaning against the steel counter. “The Omatikaya,” you mouthed subtly, letting out as little voice as possible.
Marco choked on his coffee. “That clan? As in Jake Sully’s clan? Jesus. If the military finds out—”
“They won’t,” you cut him off, your voice fierce and resolute. “Because I’m not telling them. Doc, you should see it. They live inside a massive, perfectly engineered ecosystem. We know they are intelligent, but the entire culture is a blueprint for planetary harmony. If I give the military even a hint of where I am, they’ll bring down Samsons and carpet-bomb the entire valley on the virtue of that useless Recom being held captive.”
Dr. Danel stared at you for a long, heavy moment. Slowly, the tension left his shoulders, and he placed a comforting hand on your arm. “I’m proud of you, kid,” he says. “We hold no loyalties to a corporate flag, our only loyalty is to life itself. I’ll see what I can do on the administrative side to push the investors to allow us to have an independent outpost. We need to get out from under the military’s thumb.”
You nodded, sighing heavily. When you linked back to your avatar the next day, you expected to wake up to the now boring and miserable jail with warriors who refuse to talk. Instead, your eyes cracked open to find the soft, dappled light of what looked like a longhouse.
Even more surprising? Norm Spellman was hovering over you, alongside Jake Sully, who was holding a piece of salvaged RDA technology—a damaged emulation device that had been recovered from a scouting raid.
“Finally,” Norm said, glancing at Jake before he looked down at you. “I’m wondering if you know this?”
You squinted, pushing yourself up into a sitting position on your mat. “An emulation device?” you answered.
“What kind? I mean, this was in a secured brief case. I know it is something very important, but this is a new-generation RDA tech, and we’ve been trying to figured it out. You’re the last resort.”
“That’s a new generation firmware emulator. They use these in the field to spoof localized military frequencies. Basically, it mimics the digital signature of a standard SecOps patrol chopper or armored vehicle so the automated perimeter turrets and scout drones don’t accidentally fire on them,” you said, your voice entirely devoid of any corporate loyalty.
Norm’s jaw dropped. He exchanged a wide-eyed look with Jake. “This is great,” he whispered.
You nodded and yawned, “It is.”
“You know how this works?” Norm followed up and you shrugged.
“Well, you know, before I was thrown into this lovely root cell, I spent months sharing a workspace with the Bridgehead engineers. Let’s just say I know exactly how this new telemetry hardware works. In theory. The tech guys love to brag when they're bored. I know the whole architecture of this thing. If we can manipulate this, you could practically walk a strike team right past their automated scanners. It would be great for you.”
Jake tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Can you crack it? Can you make it work for us?”
You yawned, “I’d love to but I’m in this cell and I don’t have any connection to the outside world, some people would have died—”
“I’ll decree your freedom,” Jake cut you off.
You looked at Norm, “Give me a stylus and I’ll look at the diagnostic layer, I can bypass the standard encryption using an open backdoor. The RDA is cheap. They never rewrite the core code on their hardware.”
Within fifteen minutes of clicking, tapping, and completely exploiting a loophole, the datapad beeped, its interface cascading into a clean, unencrypted stream of decoded frequencies.
“We can work on this, Norm,” you said.
“And you’re free. You’re a guest of the Omatikaya now.”
“I’m free?!” you gasped, a genuine grin breaking across your face.
By midday, you were officially allowed a free woman, given a small, cozy kelku, and granted permission to move about as free as a bird.
Which brought you to your favorite activity: teasing Neteyam.
You spotted him near the lower training ground, checking the tension on his bowstring. You practically bounded over to him, your tail swishing with obnoxious joy.
“Guess who’s a free woman, Commander!” you sang out, sliding into his peripheral vision and waving your hands excitedly. “I’m free! Officially released. No more jail time for this girl. Aren’t you just thrilled?”
Neteyam’s face locked into a deadpan mask. “Considering that I was the one who put you in jail, I couldn’t have been more thrilled,” he answered.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Neteyam,” you teased, leaning down to peer up into his golden eyes. “I know you’re secretly ecstatic that you don't have to break your own rule just to come see me anymore.”
He threw his head back, annoyed but still so handsome. “Do you not have chores to do? Surely, my father freed a high-risk prisoner for an important reason. Members of this clan work. They do not spend their days loitering and harassing warriors.”
“Nope, no chores yet. I’m still in my onboarding phase,” you chuckled, following him step for step as he tried to back away. “Besides, I think my new official job should be your personal shadow. You know, to make sure you don't miss me too much.”
He let out a sharp breath, but before he could snap back, Jake Sully walked by, seeing his son with you. He perked up, making his way to the two of you.
“Neteyam, son,” he clapped a hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. “Y/N is going to be doing an important work with Norm and Max at the human facilities...“ Jake told him.
Neteyam was still looking at you as Jake speaks so you grinned at him. “Important work,” you mouthed, winking.
“...She doesn’t know her way there and we can’t trust that she will live when left unattended outside Hometree, so you’re on guard duty. Every day. You told me yourself that she has a habit of forming her own personal army, so I want an experienced commander keeping an eye on her.”
Neteyam’s ears pinned straight back. He looked at his father in absolute betrayal. “You can’t do this to me...”
“Get to work, son,“ Jake smirked, walking away.
You turned to Neteyam, flashing a brilliant, wide-eyed grin. “Looks like you’re my personal shadow instead. Do you see how me and Eywa are literally like this?” you intertwined your index and middle finger together in front of his face.
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath out of his nose. The distant human research facility is located a few kilometers away through a dense jungle. While you’d like to think that you can actually traverse this alone, some company from a very grumpy warrior is a great thing for a menace like you.
Neteyam marched ahead, his posture so rigid you were convinced a single well-placed twig could snap his spine. His long tail gave tight, irritable twitches every time your bare feet loudly crunched a leaf behind him.
“Neteyam...” you called out and he snapped his head at you with a raised brow, not breaking his stride. “How can you walk like that?”
“Like what?“ he asked.
“I mean, you walk like you’re trying to avoid stepping on bugs,” you said cheerfully, jogging a few steps to catch up to his massive stride. “But it’s impressive! This specialized training is what made it possible for you guys to ambush us and that’s just great, you really showed those Recoms what they are missing—”
“Are you happy you got ambushed and now you’re here as a captive?” he asked.
“I guess so. Bridgehead isn’t really the best place for this,” you twirled. “I deserve this freedom, don’t you think? To plant my feet on this soil, to smell the flowers, to talk to the people, to smell this sweet air—”
“I get it the first time,” he cut you off. “You go back to your human body at Bridgehead, anyway, right?”
“Yes, but I didn’t tell them anything, I swear,” you told him, nodding. “They don’t know where I am.” You made a zipping motion on your lips.
His gaze dropped down on your mouth and his forehead creased. “Why did you do that?” he asked.
You beamed, “Well, err, there’s this thing humans call as zipper. It closes an opening,“ you told him. “So when someone does that, it means their mouth is zipped. They are never going to talk.”
His head tilted, “Well, can you do that? Zip?” he did the motion on his lips.
Your lips pursed, nodding and excited that he’s keeping up. “Yes,” you mouth.
His face visibly smooths over, pointing at the path. “Great. Now, let’s go.”
The daily walks to the human research facility quickly became the highlight of your double life. You link back to your avatar for the important work you do with Norm and Max, but you still spend a significant time in your human body to work on your own study and to ward off military suspicions.
At first, if Neteyam isn’t grumpy, he’s silent. But you were relentless. You ranted about the RDA, you asked him deep theological questions about Eywa, and you taught him incredibly bad Earth puns. Slowly, beautifully, the reverse Stockholm syndrome claimed its highest-ranking victim.
“You know, Neteyam,” you trotted backwards in front of him, looking up at his towering frame with a playful smirk. “I’ve noticed you haven't threatened to tie me to a direhorse backwards in like two weeks. Are you getting soft on me? Am I finally breaking through that thick, grumpy exterior?”
Neteyam stopped walking. The dappled sunlight hitting his sharp jawline and broad shoulders. “You think you are very clever, sky girl,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that deep, gravelly register that made a weird, exhilarating warmth rush straight to your thighs.
“Admit it. You like having me around. You think I’m delightful,” you shot back cheekily, stepping closer before your eyes got snagged by a nearby flower. “Look at that flower over there! Isn’t that called pxuyo? There was a similar plant back in my world—”
“If you touch it, it will shoot thousands of tiny hairs into your face. You will not see the Great Mother, but your eyes will swell shut and you won’t be able to see anything for days.”
“I know! I was saying there was something like that back in my world, and someone made the mistake of wiping their butt with it—”
“What?” His face crumpled in visible distess.
You stared at the beautiful flower, then back at him, nodding solemnly. “Yes,” you said. “But this one’s crazier, because it shoots people. Beautiful and deadly.”
“Like some people,” he murmured, a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth giving him away.
“Oh, did you just smile?!” you cheered, bouncing on your heels in front of him.
As the weeks bled into a routine, the frosty wall between you has completely shattered. You were a walking encyclopedia of useless Earth trivia and hyper-fixated xenobiology facts, and Neteyam, to his own absolute horror, was actually starting to listen. You’d be dissecting the cellular structure of a glowing root, and he would chime in with the practical applications of its sap.
“And then, the humans just sit on a couch and scream at each other for money! It’s art, Neteyam, truly—”
Your foot hit a slick patch of moss. Your arms flailed, your tail whipped around seeking balance, and you went down hard, sliding flat on your butt into a pile of thick, squishy mud.
You sat there, looking utterly ridiculous.
Neteyam froze. He looked down at you. His chest heaved once. Twice. And then, a sound escaped him. A deep, booming laugh that echoed through the canopy. He threw his head back, his white teeth flashing, his entire face lighting up in a way that genuinely took your breath away.
“You’re laughing!” you shrieked pointing a muddy finger at him. “There’s no way! Someone write this down in the ancient lore!”
“Shut up,” he gasped, coughing to clear his throat as he tried to pull his stern commander mask back on, though his eyes were still dancing with pure amusement. He stepped down the slope and extended a hand to haul you out of the muck. “Look at you. You are a disaster.”
“I’m a xenobiologist, Neteyam, I’m all good with mud,” you huffed, deliberately wiping a streak of mud onto his forearm as he pulled you up.
“Well, now, you’re going to a field trip to the nearest river because you can’t go home like that,” he said and you squealed.
Your closeness have grown exponentially that instead of dumping you off at the facility as soon as he has successfully walked you there like he used to, Neteyam started to linger. He would come inside, to the surprise of Norm and Max who weren’t really used to him coming here as much as Lo’ak and Kiri who practically spent every waking day here with Spider.
Neteyam had always preferred spending his days training in his archery and flying on his ikran. Now, he’s sitting cross-legged on a metal crate watching you work with Norm and Max.
“Who is Lo’ak?” you asked when Max mentioned him in passing.
“My brother,” Neteyam answered from where he was sitting, carving on a wood.
“Your brother?! You have a brother I didn’t know about? Where is this man this entire time—”
“He’s mated,” he cut you off. “Not available.”
You choked on your own saliva, your tail giving a violent, shocked flaught. “Mated?! Already? Dang, the younger generation moves fast around here. What about you, big brother? You got a secret mate hidden in the trees that I should know about?”
He slowly raised his head, his eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, heavy intensity that made the playful words die in your throat.
“No,” he said softly, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that did wild things to your heart rate. “I do not.”
“I—I was just asking...” you smoothly looked away, suddenly finding the dirt under your fingernails fascinating. You cleared your throat, frantically trying to focus on your work, but your hands were shaking.
You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and lingering. Over the last moon and weeks, something had shifted. The way his hand lingered just a second too long when he helped you cross a puddle. The way his ears pointed directly toward you the moment you entered a room. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention, not like a security risk, but like something fascinating he was trying to understand.
And it terrified you.
You looked down at your blue hands. This wasn't your real body. Your real flesh and blood was sitting in a metal city miles and miles away, owned by a corporate war machine that you were actively betraying. Your life was a ticking clock of lies, military interrogations, and double-dealing. You were a ghost inhabiting a fake body
Falling for Jake Sully’s son would be a catastrophic complication. But as you stole a glance at Neteyam, who had gone back to his carving with a small, quiet smile on his lips, you realized with a sinking feeling that your stupid, traitorous heart had already crossed the line.
To mask the deafening alarms blaring in your head, you did what you always did when a situation became entirely too real: you turned your internal volume up to a solid eleven.
On the walk back to Hometree, you practically performed a one-woman theater show. You jumped over roots with dramatic flairs, ranted about the nutritions of Pandoran berries, and attempted to teach Neteyam the entire baseline plot of The Matrix using wild arm movements. You didn’t know when it started, but this tension in the atmosphere between you two had only grown thicker and more charged day by day.
And you know that if you stayed silent, it would be awkward, so you talked over it like your life depended on it.
“And then the guy chooses the red pill, Neteyam! It’s an allegory for waking up from corporate brainwashing! Honestly, I think you’d really relate to the main guy—”
You whipped around to face him, walking backward to gauge his reaction, but yoy heel caught the edge of a slick, rain-soaked stone.
“Whoa—!”
Your arms flailed, preparing your body for another ungraceful landing in the mud, but it never came.
A heavy, calloused hand shot out, wrapping securely around your waist. Neteyam hauled you forward against his chest with dizzying force, his other hand anchoring firmly on your shoulder to steady you.
The forest around you seemed to hold its breath. A sudden, gentle breeze rustled the canopy above, sending a flock of fan lizards spiraling down into the clearing. They unfurled into brilliant, spinning wheels of bioluminescent purple and gold, casting an ethereal glow over both of your faces.
Your breath caught. You were pressed completely against him, his chest rising and falling in a rapid and uneven way. You swallowed hard. He’s so handsome. Neteyam’s eyes flickered down, his intense gaze dropping entirely to your lips. You were scrambling for a witty thing to say, beating him from what you know would be a reprimand on walking backward.
But a reprimand didn’t came.
Because he leaned down, and you felt his soft lips pressing against yours, catching your lips in a deep, sudden, breathless kiss.
Now, it would be a lie if you claimed you’ve never imagined kissing him in the past weeks, but you certainly only imagined a gentle, polite kiss. Knowing how he’s this proper and refined gentleman who won’t go up to you at a club and ask you to come home with him.
The kiss was possessive. It was hard and consuming, and made you feel that the hidden glances and accidental brushes of his fingers against yours mean more than what you thought they were. You felt the this is long overdue message he was sending through the kiss as you kissed him back, your hand tightening around his large bicep.
His grip on your waist also tightened, pulling you completely flush against his warmth, emboldened by the fact that you want it, too. When he finally pulled back, his breath was a warm puff against your cheek. Your eyes were wide, your lips parted and your mind was completely blank. He pulled you up to your feet and you had to run your fingers through your hair in an attempt to smooth down your mind.
But still, you couldn’t say a single word for the rest of the walk.
Your zipped-mouth rule was enacted without any request from outside parties, it was simply driven by pure, unadulterated shock for what happened. What you allowed to happen. But Neteyam? The universe apparently loved a comedy of roles, because the moment you shut up, a brilliant, smug smirk broke across his face, and he took it as his personal cue to become the talkative one.
“What’s wrong, sky girl?” he asked, his voice dripping with an insufferable amusement as he matched your stiff stride. “I don’t remember you from my stiff walking classes for the grumpy ones.”
You glared at the path ahead, your tail twitching stiffly behind you.
“You walk very fast when you are quiet,” he noted, jogging a step to lean into your peripheral vision, his ears perking in absolute victory. “I thought you wanted to smell the sweet air? To plant your feet in the soil?”
“Sh...” Shut up, you snarled. You face was already burning a violent shade of deep purple.
So when you two finally reached Hometree, you headed straight for the communal eating areas, desperately seeking refuge. Normally, you sat with your warrior friends, gossiping, playing Earth games, and being loud enough to be a little disturbing. You sat down on a woven mat, grabbing a leaf of roasted fish, hoping the crowd would buffer you.
But a heavy shadow fell over your mat and Neteyam sat right next to you, his long legs crossing comfortably as he reached for a piece of fruit, his arm circling around you instead of reaching in front of you, which made it feel like he was hugging you.
You looked at him, then at your friends who are awkwardly looking at their leaf plates. “What are you doing? Your spot is over there with your family.”
“It just seems more... interesting here,” he said smoothly, a wicked spark dancing in his eyes before he turned to your friends. “Why are we silent?”
You stammered out a clumsy, non-committal noise before shoving more food into your mouth as Aleto scrambled for something to say. It was infuriating. It was like a switch had been flipped in his brain. He had completely adapted to your antics and was now weaponizing them against you. You tried to fight back with narrow glares and sharp elbows, but every time he chuckled, your traitorous heart did a pathetic little flip.
The next morning, the hum of the tech-bay at Bridgehead felt colder and more jarring than ever. You sat at your desk, staring blankly at a centrifuge of soil separation, completely distracted. You had been spinning the same vial for ten minutes without hitting start.
“Hey, little bird,” Marco’s voice cut through your daze. He leaned over your workstation, holding a data pad. “You’ve been staring at that soil like it owes you a worm. Dr. Danel asked for the mineral breakdown an hour ago. What’s going on with you?”
You let out a massive sigh, burying your face in your hands. “Marco. I have a problem. A huge, complicated, multi-layered problem.”
Marco pulled up a rolling stool, eyebrows raised. “Alright, spill. Is the military digging into your field logs again?”
“No, no. Let’s play a hypothetical game,” you said, spinning your swivel chair to face him. “Hypothetically, let’s say someone is in a foreign world. And hypothetically, there is this foreign person. He’s a local inhabitant of that world and... Well, he’s very handsome. But he happens to be, uhm,“ you cleared your throat. “Let’s just say there’s a Romeo and Juliet stuff going on.“
Marco’s brows rose. A slow, knowing grin began to spread across his face. “Uh-huh. Go on.”
“And hypothetically, this local inhabitant has spent weeks being an arrogant, grumpy jerk, but then he suddenly has a personality breakthrough, laughs like music, and then... hypothetically this Romeo kisses Juliet’s brains out under a cloud of glowing fan lizards. Very romantic, very tragic.” You groaned, dropping your head onto the metal desk. “What does Juliet do in this completely crazy scenario?”
Marco let out a low whistle, clapping his hands together. “Jesus, Y/N. Are you in love with Jake Sully’s kid?”
You lifted your head, “I didn't say it was me!”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Marco laughed, but his expression quickly sobered, turning gentle and cautious. “But look... You know how messy this is, right? You can't... be with him. Even if we ignore the fact that his dad is public enemy number one to the corporate suits upstairs, you're an avatar driver. You live in a metal box. Your real body is here, you, a human. How does that even work long-term?”
You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “I know,” you whispered to the cold metal desk, the reality of his words heavy and suffocating. “I know it's complicated. I know that.”
The harsh reality of exactly how complicated it was arrived three days later, during a festival.
The main comnunal area of Hometree was alive with a vibrant, rhythmic energy. Drums boomed through the wooden pillars, and the tapestries glowed in deep red and orange. You were sitting near the back, nursing a cup of sweet water, looking for Neteyam’s familiar silhouette in the crowd.
You found him near the central hearth. But he wasn't alone.
A striking huntress was standing beside him. She was one of the warriors returning from a long journey trading with the southern clans, her posture proud and fierce. She laughed, a bright, clear sound, and playfully shoved Neteyam’s shoulder. Neteyam smiled back, a polite, warm smile, listening to her talk animatedly about something.
A cold, heavy knot twisted violently in your chest.
You nudged Si’an, who was sitting nearby stringing a bow. “Si’an. Who is that? The girl talking to Neteyam.”
Si’an looked over, his face instantly brightening. “Ah! That is Maneya! She has finally returned from Zeswa. She and Neteyam were batchmates. The elders have been speaking to the Olo’eyktan about their arrangement for a looong time. Everybody knows they are to be betrothed before the turning of the next season. They will definitely be mates.”
“Oh. I see. Good for him.”
But deep inside, the words felt like a physical blow, knocking the air clean out of your lungs.
Betrothed. Mate.
You stared at them across the firelit cavern. The woman was perfect. She belonged here. She didn't have a fake body, she didn't have a corporate countdown hanging over her head, and she didn't spend her days lying to a military division to keep the people alive because she is not the enemy. She was part of his world, entirely and without compromise.
A wave of bitter, stinging humiliation washed over you. You had actually let yourself believe that a kiss and some shared banter meant something in a world you were only visiting. He had a whole life mapped out, basically a fiancée waiting to walk down the aisle, and he had treated you like a fun, temporary distraction. Some sky girl to pass the time with.
You put your bowl down on the nearest table, your tail giving a sharp, defensive lash. You didn't stay for the rest of the music. You walked straight back to your kelku, your heart aching with a sudden, sharp clarity. You were a fool to think you could belong here.
You slept early. You shed your tears in your cold, metal room at Bridgehead, wiping your face, staring at the white ceiling, and deciding right then and there that nothing will come out of this.
This was what you actually loved about yourself. You were a masterclass at adaptability. You had a PhD in accepting things you cannot control. You didn’t let things trip you up for long because life kept moving, whether you were crying or not. Falling for Neteyam was a dead end. It would be an agonizing, impossible mess for both of you, and clearly, he wasn’t even looking in that direction anyway. He had a whole damn fiancée.
You had absolutely zero respect for lying men who went around kissing other women while being fully committed to someone else. You hated that despite being over a nine-foot-tall, majestic blue alien warrior, he was acting just like any trashy guy back on Earth. Nothing turns you off more than that. He’s a loser!
When you linked back into your avatar the next day, just in time for your work with Norm and Max, you took extra care braiding your hair. You made sure you looked sharp, and you felt like a brand-new person with a heavily reinforced wall.
The moment you stepped out of your kelkua and saw Neteyam already standing by the pathway, you almost frowned. See, you were a cool girl, but even the coolest girls needed a grace period after finding out they were accidentally the other woman.
“You’re finally awake,” he said, his voice almost breathless, his golden eyes instantly tracking your face. “You slept early. You left the feast.”
“Ah-ah, correction: I don’t sleep, I log out,” you said, your tone breezy, entirely devoid of yesterday's vulnerability. “I’m not a real Na’vi whatsoever. Remember when I was in my cell and I was just a limp, dead body on the floor? That’s what happens. Spooky, isn’t it?”
Without waiting for him, you started walking down the pathway.
He blinked, rushing a step to follow you. “I remember, and it is not spooky. My father told me that is just how it is with avatar bodies.”
“Yes, totally unnatural, because I’m basically like a remote-controlled toy,” you said, letting out a sharp chuckle. “And I needed to leave the feast early because I had to log out and live my real human life.”
“I tried to find you,” he said, his voice dropping into a lower, tighter tone.
You turned your head, flashing him a bright smile. “Well, I have a strict schedule to make sure my real body won't weaken and die, you know,” you replied casually. “Prolonged time in a link unit can literally kill a human. My real muscles will harden and weaken, I could die of dehydration... and I really need my human body to stay alive. She’s going to get married one day, have kids. She can’t do any of that if I keep stealing her consciousness to play avatar in the woods.”
You glanced at him and laughed, but he only looked visibly pale under the azure. He looked entirely struck dumb by the sudden bombardment of information.
He didn't know what to process first: the terrifying realization that your vulnerable human body was at constant risk of dying if you stayed with him too long, or the sudden, jarring mental image of you married to a human man, having human children, entirely out of his reach. That can’t be possible.
His mouth opened, then closed. He opened it again, clearly trying to find the words to ask you what the hell you meant by that, but the heavy hesitation caught in his throat. He closed it again.
Seeing the hesitation on his face was exactly the window you needed. You loudly clapped your hands together, instantly changing the subject.
“Anyway! Did Norm say if we’re processing the frequency modules today? Because I swear, if Max messed up again, I’m going to lose it.”
You kept up a relentless barrage of small talk, chattering about soil samples, weather patterns, and anything that wasn't personal, leaving him absolutely zero time to process his thoughts. It worked perfectly. Neteyam remained dead silent for the entire walk to the facility, his jaw set so tightly you could see the muscle leaping in his cheek.
You expected him to leave once you reached the shacks, but to your secret frustration, he still stayed. He sat on his usual metal crate, but he wasn't carving wood today. He just watched you with a dark, brooding intensity that made your skin prickle.
Right on the dot, the moment the digital clock on the lab wall clicked over to your designated departure time, Neteyam stood up.
“It is time,” he announced, his voice serious. “You cannot stay any longer. Your schedule.”
You couldn't help but chuckle. “Look at you, playing the schedule police,” you grinned, winking at Max who chuckled. “Alright, alright, keeping me alive. Good job, Commander.”
You were a complete chatterbox, too, on the way back, filling the jungle air with meaningless noise so the silence couldn't breathe. But as you approached Hometree, the welcoming view wasn't the only thing waiting for you.
Maneya was standing right at the entrance. The moment she spotted Neteyam, a bright, beautiful smile broke across her face. You made sure to stop yourself from feeling bitter about it. You need to be happy about this. Happy, happy, happy, you chanted in your mind
You stopped in your tracks for a fraction of a second, then turned to Neteyam with a slow, heavily teasing purse of your lips. He froze, looking at you with wide, panicked eyes, looking exactly like a little kid who had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar.
“Well, it’s sleep time for me, and date time for you,” you teased, your voice dripping with artificial cheer as you showed him a closed fist. “Good luck, lover boy.”
“Y/N—”
You walked right past him, offering a polite, breezy smile to Maneya. Maneya’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes narrowing with a quiet calculation as she watched you pass.
You hated this. You absolutely loathed being caught in this kind of trashy dynamic. It felt like being a guy's ‘girl best friend’, the one he was definitely crossing physical lines with behind closed doors while maintaining a perfect, public relationship with his girlfriend. It was cheap, it was messy, and you wanted absolutely no part in this anymore.
The next morning, when it was time to head to the human facility, Neteyam wasn’t outside the kelku. You were told he was caught up in an early council meeting but asks for you to wait for him. You won’t do that, considering he’s still not here and you were going to be late, and you love being punctual. You walked straight up to Tseru instead.
“Hey, Tseru, do me a favor and walk me to the lab today? Commander Grumpy is busy, and I’ve got a lot of data to run,” you said, your voice clipping with fake authority before you laughed it off.
But still, Tseru blinked, looking around nervously. “Uh... Neteyam said no one else is allowed to—”
“Neteyam is busy with his actual life,” you said, your tail lashing behind you. “Let's go.”
Reluctantly, Tseru escorted you. When you arrived at the facility, you threw yourself into your work with a terrifying, hyper-focused vengeance. You ran data with Norm and Max all day, completely ignoring the passage of time, yet you kept glancing at the windows anyway. So, he’s not only late, he wouldn’t have come if you waited for him.
“Whoa, slow down, Einstein,” Norm laughed, watching you aggressively type into a console. “You’re gonna burn out the processors.” he said, biting on his sandwich.
You chuckled, “Sorry. I’m just that way when my mind’s working fast.”
He shrugs, his human body leaning against a table. “Hey, Max and I were actually talking... have you thought about staying out here permanently? I mean, you can’t go back to Bridgehead. We could really use your brain out here full-time.”
You paused, your shoulders dropping as a wave of exhaustion hit you. You’ve though of that many times, and many times, you have been disappointed to know that it’s just not possible.
“Logistically, Norm, I can’t. My human body is sitting in a high-security sector back at Bridgehead. The link pods are massive, heavily monitored corporate property. I can’t exactly pack it into a backpack and walk out.”
“Do you have any friends on the inside who could help smuggle it out?” Max asked.
“No,” you chuckled. “No one with that kind of clearance. It’s just not possible. I’d have to give up one if I want to stay here, you know? Escape Bridgehead as a human, which is also high risk, because the military is hot on me. I lied to them about where this avatar is, remember? And if I escape as a human, I will lose the link unit, and this avatar will be useless.”
Norm closed his eyes and shook his head, defeated, while Max sighed heavily. All the brightest minds on Pandora had no solution to your problem and it just makes it all feel worse.
What you didn't know, however, was that back at Bridgehead, Dr. Danel had been silently moving mountains. Armed with the truth you had trusted him with, he had spent the last weeks aggressively lobbying the main corporate investors, convincing them that your research was too valuable to be compromised by the ongoing political tension with the military.
Now, he had managed to get the ultimate green light: a covert relocation authorization to establish an independent outpost deep within the Hallelujah Mountains. Out of the military’s eyes.
That night, emotionally exhausted from everything and physically drained from your research, you decided not to return to Hometree. You curled up on a cot in the human facility and let your consciousness fade, pulling your mind back to your human body to assist Dr. Danel with what you thought was just standard lab data cataloging.
You had no idea of the sheer, unmitigated chaos you had left behind at Hometree, though.
The moment the council meeting was over, Neteyam had stormed into the human facility, but when he arrived, he found your avatar completely out on the cot. He had tried to shake you, to wake you, but he knew you were entirely gone. He hated that the council took too long, that it had taken so much of the day, and now he wasn’t even able to talk to you about all the things he arranged in his mind last night.
And then, you didn't wake up the next day. Or the day after that.
For nearly three full days, your avatar remained a completely unresponsive shell. Back at Bridgehead, Dr. Danel had initiated a sudden relocation of the link pods. The physical logistics of disconnecting your human pods, loading them onto independent transport, and flying them deep into the floating mountains took many agonizing hours. Because of the system reboots and physical transit, you were forced to stay out of your avatar.
To Neteyam, it was a three-day nightmare. He had spent those three days in a state of absolute, paralyzed terror. Now, he’s sure you had died. But Norm, in his desire to console him, reasoned that the avatar is not dead, but that there is definitely something wrong with you, the human. They mentioned that the military was hot on you for withholding secrets about where the avatar really is, that they have probably learned you were lying about it.
It had taken Norm begging on his knees to stop him from the suicide mission of going to Bridgehead and see for himself what’s really going on. He had hovered over your sleeping avatar body, refusing to go on patrol, his heart crumpling every time he thinks of his absolute foolishness. He should have talked to you. It's only that he didn’t know if you were on the same page with him.
He likes you very much. Probably even more than that. You are an amazing woman who can get anything, anyone, you want, and he refuses to believe that you will settle for someone... like him. He wants you and he had never been more sure of anything in his entire life, but he didn’t know if you would ever entertain that.
He kissed you, and you kissed him back, but does that mean anything to you like it did for him? You have a whole life outside of this avatar. Heck, you have your own world, and this was just what he has. When you said you were going to marry and have a family in your human form, you couldn’t have made it clearer that you do not see your future locked up in this body.
And now, he could lose any chance he could have had because he was too scared to take a risk. So what if you happen not to like him the way he wants you to? It doesn’t matter.
On the afternoon of the third day, you linked back to your avatar as soon as the outpost systems in the Hallelujah Mountains were settled. The cold, sterile air of the facility rushed into your lungs, but before you could even adjust to the light, a heavy, trembling force slammed into you.
Two massive, muscular blue arms wrapped around your shoulders, hauling you upright from the cot and pulling you fiercely against a broad, solid chest. You gasped, blinking in shock as you smelled the distinct scent of mint.
It was Neteyam. He was disheveled, his breathing ragged, holding onto you with a terrifying, desperate strength as if he were trying to fuse your body into his own.
Norm and Max rushed into the room, looking exhausted but small smiles were written on their faces. “Kid, what happened to you?” Max asked. “Got trouble with the military? I almost got war flashbacks, you know. With Jake and all.”
You were grinning at them. “No, no, quite the opposite. It was a long story,” you said, bringing your hands up to push against Neteyam’s chest so he would release his grip.
“What happened to you?” he asked when he finally pulled away.
The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heartstrings. It’s not something you’ve ever heard from him and it broke away at the wall you tried to put up. Norm glanced at Neteyam and smirked at you knowingly.
“Just to let you know, he has been here for a record-breaking duration of three days and a half,” he said.
Your brows furrowed, rearing your head back to look at him. “You didn’t go home?”
Like a chastised child, he threw you a sharp look through the fringe of his lashes. “You were not waking up.”
“And you know that’s simply me not linking to my avatar,” you pressed your palm against his shoulder.
He caught your hand and didn't let go. “And what of your human self? Are you alright, were you hurt, were you barred from linking to this body?” he asked, his voice hard and heated.
You blinked, your panicking eyes flitting to Max and Norm who are slowly backing away. “Uh, yes, she’s alright. Not hurt. And no, not barred from linking,” you said.
His face smoothed over, looking calmer than ever. “Then why...?”
You pushed your lips forward, stopping yourself from flashing a menacing smile. “I was on a date and then I got married—”
“What?” he asked, his voice rising. “You got married?”
You pursed your lips, looking at his face fall like you just told him he didn’t pass a test. “I’m just kidding,“ you said with a deadpan face. “We did a major relocation. Dr. Danel managed to snag a life-changing opportunity—”
You weren’t able to finish your sentence when his lips came crashing down on yours. His large hand was clamped at your nape, too, deepening the kiss. You closed your eyes and kissed him back for what felt like forever, just savoring the fact that you are kissing again, and then you remembered.
You pushed against his chest, moving away from him. “No, no, no,” you said, pointing a finger at him. “You cannot do this. To me and that huntress who would be your mate. I don’t know if there’s a concept of being a playboy in this world, but that’s you. You can't just kiss me whenever you feel like it—”
“Huntress who would be my mate?” he echoed. “Maneya? She is not going to be my mate—”
“I didn’t strike you for a liar, but I guess you also are—”
His large hands held either of your upper arms to make you face him properly before he looked in you in the eyes, dead serious. “I'm not. I am not betrothed to Maneya. The council wants that; the council wants her to be my mate, but I don't. I never did, and I honestly never knew what I wanted in that area of my life, but I know now. In fact, I have a ten-year plan that involves this avatar that only links back to her body when she feels like it. I never knew Eywa to be this cruel, but to have me fall in love with someone I can't have is a cruel thing to play at.”
You blinked twice and then thrice. For the second time in your life, and because of the same person, you couldn’t find your words, and you are acting the way you never want to: stupid. You watched his face go from emotionally charged and deeply romantic to that of acceptance.
He nodded once, looking down at your hand, linking his lips wet. “I know you don’t see me that way, but I wanted to get that out,” his eyes snapped up to you. “I don’t want to be just friends with you and I want you to know that.”
Your heart felt like it had stopped beating, then jumpstarted only for it to feel like you’ve ran a marathon. “Was it... necessary to say all that looking extremely handsome... Or?” You drew a circle on your face in the air using your pointing finger.
It was his time to look like he couldn't find the words. “I...I don’t—I don’t know...” he stammered, bringing a hand up to touch his side braid.
You smiled at him, raising a hand to cup his jaw and cheek. “I appreciate that, Neteyam...” you mumbled, hating that you had to wipe off the hope on his face. “But it’s... It’s complicated—”
“Because you’re not like me? I don’t care—”
“Yes, and more. I’m living a double life. I’m a human and this is not me. This is not the real me—”
“So what? This,” he motioned at your body. “is just a vessel. Who you are is whatever you have shown me, shown us. There’s a human version and I like her, too, because that’s still you. It doesn’t matter to me, Y/N.”
“It matters to me,” you said, emphasizing your point. “It matters to me that you will be in trouble for being with me. It matters to me that you will find it hard to live a normal life because you’re with me. It’s not as easy as you think it will be. What you feel for me—”
“It’s not going away. I know myself. It will happen only once and I will never feel this way again,” he vowed. “All of those things you were saying, I can live with that. Don’t worry about me. I’ll worry about us. I’ll handle my people.”
You bit your lip, you gaze dropping down. “I... I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll help you.” he said.
Your eyes snapped up, your brows furrowed. “Help me how?”
He looked at you seriously. “Think.”
By helping you think, it means an unyielding, high-frequency presence. He walks you back and forth from Hometree to the facility, he materializes in front of you whenever you so much as need a heavy crate of stabilizers moved, already lifting it before you could reach for a hoist. If you were sitting in front of a terminal to analyze data, he would be sitting in a corner, sharpening his tools, but still having his eyes locked onto you with a steady, quiet intensity that made it completely impossible to focus on a single string of code.
Eventually, you needed to do something about that. Which is why you pulled Norm and Max for a talk one afternoon, explaining the massive administrative change Dr. Danel had pulled off, the relocation authorization that had successfully shifted your human pods entirely out from under military surveillance and into the hidden sanctuary of the Hallelujah Mountains.
Norm scratched the back of his head, a stunned look passing over his features. “Boy, if this isn't familiar. It's like history repeating itself with better hardware. So, you’re staying here... for real?”
“If you’ll have me,” you nodded firmly, crossing your arms. “I need you to talk to Jake, Norm. I want to stay based at this facility permanently instead of trekking back to Hometree. It’ll save me time every single day, and I can just dive straight into work once I link back to this body.”
You didn't mention the real reason, but you were secretly hoping the distance would act as a natural deterrent. If you weren't at Hometree, maybe Neteyam’s intense focus would naturally drift back to his actual duties.
“Done,” Norm nodded, clapping you on the arm. “I'll clear it with Jake. He'll understand.”
But your master plan failed spectacularly. The distance wasn't a deterrent at all; if anything, it only made Neteyam more deliberate. He was a man of his word and entirely a man of action. The moment he learned you were staying at the facility, he simply adjusted his patrol rotations. He began showing up during the exact blocks of time he knew you’d be in your avatar to work with Norm, silently stepping in to assist with manual labor, his quiet devotion remaining completely unbothered by the miles of jungle between you.
The internal conflict grew so loud that it bled right into your human shifts. Back at the newly settled outpost in your real body, Dr. Danel noticed your distraction. You were aggressively cataloging plates with a tense, exhausted look on your face.
“Why don’t you sit and rest for a moment, Y/N?” Dr. Danel’s leveled voice said behind you. “You seem distracted. Are you doing too much work in your avatar?”
You shook your head. “No, not really. It’s nothing I can handle, Doc. It’s something...” you fell back on a rolling chair, sighing as I looked at the pink pads of your fingers.
“Jake Sully’s son...” he trailed, making you snap your eyes up at him. He had a humored look on his face, “Marco had a slip-up.”
You glared at Marco’s link unit, knowing he’s there because you saw his avatar making his way out earlier. “Oh, I don’t believe that! He snitched on purpose!”
He laughed, still busy working in the bay area. “I wouldn’t have repeated it to another soul, kid.”
You sighed, propping your cheek on your palm. “It’s just that... Doc, have you ever thought of falling in love... here? I know what you’re going to tell me. It’s complicated, it’s hard to make it happen, but... He likes me. And he’s really showing me that he wants me. It would have been better if he didn’t, you know? That it’s just me harboring an unusual class on a very handsome blue alien, but no...”
He listened to you rant the entire saga. You told him everything. How Neteyam sent you to jail, how he became your grumpy, jerk bodyguard, how he softened over time, the kiss under the fan lizards, the weight of your double life, the fiancée that isn’t really a fiancée, and how absolutely terrified you were that you were in deep, irreversible trouble with Jake Sully’s oldest son.
Dr. Danel listened quietly, letting out a soft, amused chuckle as he leaned against a sterile lab counter. “What is there to be scared about, kid? It’s love. I’ll actually give you some credit for thinking this through so thoroughly, because heaven knows Jake Sully didn't think for a single second when he crossed that line.”
You pushed your lips forward into a pout, staring down at your human hands.
“You are incredibly lucky to find something like that here, Y/N,” he said gently, his expression softening. “When we left Earth, we know what left behind. The opportunity to just... be human. We gave up everything in pursuit of science. To find love, hope, and real life, something completely separate from what is strictly necessary for survival on another planet, is an incredible stroke of luck.”
You looked up at him and slowly nodding as the truth of it settled into your chest.
“You are a scientist, Y/N, and I know it is your job to analyze and think,” he added, giving you a reassuring smile. “But try not thinking when it comes to this.”
That was the exact, final push you needed to leap straight off the cliff.
Neteyam had absolutely no idea, but your choice was made.
Later that afternoon, back in your avatar, you asked to him to go down the nearby river under the guise of collecting aquatic plant specimens, which you won’t really need that much on the work you’re doing with Norm and Max, but you could study on it separately.
Now, you’re watching the water rushed softly over the smooth river stones, casting dancing reflections of light against the canopy. You sat on the riverbank, watching him walk over to stand directly in front of you.
A familiar, wicked smirk tugged at your lips, your tail swaying mischievously behind you that his eyes dropped down there as you were reaching out, you caught his large hand and pulled him firmly toward you until his massive torso was securely caged between your thighs.
Before he could even ask what you were doing, you leaned up and caught his lips in a deep, deliberate kiss.
You could tell it completely caught him off guard. Neteyam’s ears twitched in surprise, his head rearing back slightly as the kiss broke so he could look down into your eyes. The sudden, brilliant flare of pure happiness in his golden gaze made your heart soar. You leaned right back in, kissing him a second time, but he was far too wise to let you off that easily. He held his position, withholding the full force of his response, his hands anchoring gently on your waist.
“Tell me you are giving me a chance, and we will kiss more,” he whispered, his voice thick, gravelly, and intense.
“I am giving you a chance,” you whispered back, your fingers tangling in the beads of his braids. “In fact, it’s a really huge chance. Whatever you’re thinking about, Neteyam, I’m right beside you.”
He let out a shuddering breath of pure relief, his shoulders visibly dropping as he grounded himself in your words. Both of his large hands slid up to cradle your face, and he kissed you. Hard, deep, and possessively, before pulling back just enough to stare directly into your eyes.
“You will never regret that. I will not let you.”
You smiled at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him back down. There was an understanding.
Or so you thought. Because there was an obvious cultural barrier at play here, because to you, you two were officially in a relationship now. Dating, plain and simple. But to him, he was still technically in the formal phase of courting you.
The very next day, you stepped out of the facility, stretching your arms and fully prepared for work, and to seeing your new boyfriend by midday, once he comes after his patrol, only to find Neteyam already standing by the path holding a giant, freshly killed hexapede. It was slung over his broad shoulders while his other hand was holding a basket of something.
You stopped dead in your tracks. You blinked once. Twice.
“Uh... good morning to you, too, hunting god,” you stammered, pointing a finger at everything. “Are we... having a very aggressive breakfast, or did you bring me a giant, heavy prop for our walk?”
Neteyam walked forward, his expression deadpan but his ears held exceptionally high. He dropped the carcass right at your feet.
“I have brought you the first kill of my current rotation,” he said, his voice deep. “It’s what we do to show our intended that we can provide. I will provide for you from now on.”
You stared at the dead animal, then up at him, your lips twitching as you tried to process the cuteness of this all.
“Neteyam, sweetheart... I live in a metal shack now with a microwave and a bunch of scientists who eat synthetic protein bars,” you said slowly, peering up at him through your lashes. “But... I guess I can force them to eat what I do with this. Or we could bring this back to the cooks back at Hometree?” you bit your lip, your eyes snagging to the basket full of fruits. “Oh, this, however! I would very much love to keep.”
“Bring back to Hometree? This is traditional. A warrior brings a tribute to the woman he courts to show he can sustain her,” his ears pinned back against his head.
“Courts?” You echoed, stepping right into his space and boldly grabbing his face, pulling him down into a quick, smacking kiss on the lips that entirely shattered his stern warrior posture. His eyes went wide as you pulled back, grinning like a menace. “Baby, we kissed really crazy under a cloud of glowing bugs and I told you I'm riding shotgun on your future plans. The trial period is over. You passed. We’re dating!”
“Dating?” he echoed, the human word sounding completely foreign on his tongue. His forehead creased in confusion. “What is day-ting? Is it a human ritual where you do not accept food?”
“It means you don't have to carry a hundred-pound carcass through the jungle just to prove you're a catch,” you chuckled, reaching up to playfully tug on one of his ears, making it twitch. “It means we are together. It means instead of giving me dead meat, you can just do this.”
You leaned in again, your hands sliding up his chest before wrapping around his neck, pulling him into a long, slow, dizzying kiss that had his hands dropping the basket he had been holding. He melted instantly, his large hands clamping onto your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
When you finally broke away, you were both breathing a little heavier. You winked at him, tapping his nose with your finger.
“See? Way less heavy than a yerik, and arguably much better for morale,” you teased. You patted his muscled chest, “I’m keeping the fruits and the yerik goes to Hometree communal kitchen. I’m eating dinner there tonight so I’m still eating what you hunted for. That okay with you, lover boy?”
You pursed your lips and watched him bite his lower lip. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Okay. I’m going to work! I have data to run, and my boyfriend is making me late!”
Neteyam stood in the middle of the path, looking between the dead animal on the ground and your retreating form, his face a spectacular mix of utter bewilderment and absolute, smitten defeat.
“Humans make no sense,” he muttered loudly, though a massive, helpless smile was finally breaking across his face as he hauled the kill back up.
Since you have already made him understood the concept of dating, you have instituted an intense making-out policy that definitely shouldn't have been part of the official manual, but you casually told him you were merely ‘exploring your avatar body's sensory responses to external stimuli,’ and giving him an absolute green light to do whatever he wanted.
But of course, the pretense didn’t mean anything at all, now that you were deep in the woods, sitting directly on his lap, straddling his waist and devouring his mouth. His large hands were everywhere, squeezing your waist with a firm, desperate grip before sliding up to fondle your breasts, while your hands locked around his neck, pulling him closer. You were kissing like you wanted to completely consume each other, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
You shifted your hips against him, a loud, breathless moan spilling from your throat as the solid, heavy ridge of his arousal pressed firmly against your softness through the thin fabric of your loincloth. You have known that being in your avatar and experiencing this kind of sheer intensity from a physical friction makes your body react exactly as you would have as a human, and it was incredible.
“Yawne...” he groaned deeply, allowing you to hump against him, but the sheer stimulation obviously weakened him.
Neteyam leaned his back heavily against the trunk of the tree, throwing his head back as his eyes closed in pure bliss. He kept his mouth glued to yours, but his entire focus had zeroed in on the spot where his hardness is repeatedly meeting your soft mound.
You pulled your mouth away to catch your breath, and a low, needy moan escaped his lips. You smiled, sliding your mouth down to kiss his sharp jawline, nipping at the exposed skin of his neck, and enjoying the way he’s whimpering. You shifted your hips again and again, a sudden, shivering wave of a climax ripping straight through you. You hugged him tightly, hiding your face in his shoulder as your kisses against his neck became wet and sloppy.
He held you firmly, his grip tightening as he maneuvered your body down onto the soft grass. Your sight spun for a moment as you looked up at the canopy, your breath hitching as Neteyam leaned down to kiss and suck hungrily at your breasts. You reached up to grab his shoulders, but he caught your hands, intertwining his long fingers securely with yours, using his other hand to firmly slide your loincloth aside.
The cool air made direct contact with your slick wetness, causing you to shiver, but the chill vanished instantly as you felt his warm mouth press directly against your center.
“Oh!” you moaned aloud, bringing your free hand up to bite down on your knuckles as his tongue began to rhythmically lick and suck at your sensitive flesh.
Your chest heaved rapidly, your mind completely spinning as he continued to pleasurably devour you. The sensation was so intense you were literally shaking, your hips bucking instinctively against his mouth. Neteyam squeezed your thighs tightly, holding you perfectly in place, refusing to let you pull away until it left you completely limp and breathless.
He slowly kissed his way back up your body, hovering over you with a soft, triumphant smile as he caught your lips in a gentle kiss.
“Come back to Hometree with me tonight,” he whispered against your mouth, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.
You blinked up at him lazily, your tail twitching as shivers ran down your spine. “What are they cooking tonight?” you asked, your voice a breathless rasp.
When he told you they were roasting the exact sweet-root and river fish dish you had obsessed over the week before, your resolve crumbled instantly. You smoothed down your hair, adjusted your feathered top, and walked back to Hometree right beside him.
When you arrived, the communal area was already humming with its usual evening life. Over the last moon, the people of the clan had slowly gotten used to the sight of you walking side-by-side with Neteyam. At first, the warriors had kept their distance, watching with guarded eyes, knowing how Neteyam is with you. But seeing how you still have your relentless, bright energy with you, and that Neteyam isn’t really barring any of them from speaking to you, your friendship with them became more permanent.
That didn't mean the council was happy, though.
As you and Neteyam walked toward your seats, you could feel the heavy glares radiating from their circles. You know from the warriors that Maneya’s parents deeply disapproved of this. For generations, traditional arrangements kept the clan’s bloodlines strong and predictable. The elders had been aggressively pushing for Maneya to be his mate before the next season turned. To them, an avatar, a dreamwalker who isn’t even real, was an insult to their customs.
And let’s not talk about the fact that their Olo’eyktan was once a dreamwalker himself.
Neteyam felt the weight of those stares, but his jaw only set firmer. He guided you to the table of warriors he knew would defend you when he’s not around, ensuring you got the best cut of the roasted river fish before he excused himself, noting that his father had signaled for him near the upper dais.
Neytiri sat beside Jake, her sharp eyes tracing the silhouette of her eldest son as he approached.
“Neteyam,” Jake said, his voice quiet but carrying the heavy weight of a man who had just spent two hours listening to old men complain. “The council is still talking. Maneya’s family is pushing hard for the betrothal announcement. They want a firm answer before the next hunt.”
Neytiri stepped forward, her hand resting gently on her son’s shoulder, her gaze searching his face. “Son... are you entirely sure of this? The path you are choosing is not walked on smooth stones. She is... She does not belong with us—”
“Like Dad used to not belong?” Neteyam asked.
Neytiri tilted her head. “That is different,” she replied.
“Mother, it’s not,” he looked down at his mother, his expression softening but remaining completely unyielding. “And I am sure of her,” he added, his deep, gravelly voice carrying a profound certainty that made both of his parents still. “My whole life, I have done exactly what was expected of me. I trained until my fingers bled, I flew the sky lines and led the patrols before I was a boy of thirteen years. I was willing to follow everything you, the council, and the elders told me to do because I thought that was what a leader must be.”
He paused, his eyes drifting across to where you were sitting. You were currently mid-sentence, aggressively gesturing with a piece of sweet-root while your friends laughed loudly at whatever ridiculous story you were telling. A soft, breathless warmth passed over Neteyam’s features.
“But until her, I never chose anything for myself,” he continued, turning back to his parents. “I realized that if I allow people who do not understand my heart to decide my future, I will never be the leader this clan needs. I cannot lead a people with a hollowed being. She is what makes my heart happy. She is who I see in my future, and even if it is difficult, even if it is a mess of two worlds... I would not have it any other way. I want her, and I will keep her. I already have her, and I will not let anyone take her away from me.”
Jake let out a low breath, a small smirk of pure pride cutting through his mouth. He clapped a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. He recognized that exact, stubborn reckless look. He had worn it himself years ago. Neytiri herself had a streak of it years ago.
Neytiri watched her son, her ears twitching slightly. She looked at the determination in his posture, the fierce fire in his eyes, and despite the lingering complications, her own heart swelled with an undeniable pride. He’s no longer a boy. He was a man taking his destiny by the throat. He was a true leader.
“Go to her, then,” Neytiri murmured softly, the corner of her lips pulling into a gentle smile.
Neteyam nodded respectfully to his parents and turned, walking back down toward your table. The moment he stepped back into your peripheral vision, you looked up from your meal, flashing him a smile so bright, so full of life, that his heart did a violent, fluttering flip against his ribs.
From the dais, Jake reached out and took Neytiri’s hand in his own. Neytiri turned her head to look at her husband, squeezing his hand as an understanding smile passed between them. Her son had made his choice, and she believed in her son.
Neteyam slid onto the mat right next to you, his long arm immediately circling around your waist to pull you tightly against his side, entirely indifferent to the whispering elders above.
“Miss me, lover boy?” you teased, nudging his ribs with your elbow.
“Always,” he murmured against your ear, his grip tightening as he stole a piece of your sweet-root, his heart completely at peace.
After the feast, while you were contentedly wiping your hands, Neteyam stood up and smoothly announced, “I am walking her back to the facilities.”
He did walk you. But along the way, his hand tightened around yours, and the path you were taking led to a different one.
“Remember when you asked me about... the collective consciousness of our people?” he asked, but you were already too mesmerized by the bioluminescent weeping willow glowing purple from the distance.
“Yes,” you breathed. “That is the Tree of Souls, right?”
He held your hand and pulled you closer until you two were under its tendrils. “The collective consciousness you were talking about... I don’t understand the technicality, but it is true. Everything we are, everything we know... is in this tree,” he touched a tendril. “Our ancestors and our dead, they are here and they are never gone. They live with us in every plant and every leaf. This tree has witnessed every moment in our lives since we were born and it will keep them in this world long after we are gone.”
A soft smile cut through your lips as hot tears pricked your eyes. “That is beautiful, Neteyam... Dr. Augustine was right. She was right about everything,” you breathed, touching a glowing tendril before you turned to him.
Neteyam stepped closer, the pulsing light from the hanging tendrils illuminating the profound, worshipful softness in his eyes. He reached out, his thumb gently catching the stray tear that escaped your lashes.
“I brought you here because I want Eywa to know I am grateful that she heard me,” he whispered, carrying a solemn weight that made your breath catch. “I want my ancestors to know that my heart belongs to you. No council, no tradition, not even who you are will change that.”
Your face crumpled as your heart swelled with raw emotion, his words completely shattering whatever remaining inhibitions you had. You smiled through the tears, gathering him in your arms and wrapping them tightly around him. “My heart belongs to you, too, Neteyam. This heart and the human heart,” you chuckled, making him smile.
You leaned up and caught his lips in a deep kiss. Neteyam let out a low, gravelly rumble, his hands instantly locking onto your waist and lifting you up slightly, pinning your back flat against the massive, smooth root of the glowing tree.
“Oh,” you gasped, a wicked little smirk flashing on your face despite your breath hitching. “Look at you. Someone’s getting aggressive...”
He groaned as his head dipped, his lips abandoning your mouth to trail a path of hot, heavy kisses down your jawline and into the dip of your neck. He nipped playfully at your skin, making you shiver and giggle all at once.
His hands slid from your face, down your shoulders, his long, deft fingers untying the bindings of your top, making you raise a brow. The soft fabric fell away, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his incredibly dark, hungry gaze.
“Okay,” you whispered as his mouth closed over one peak, suckling hungrily. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his thick braids, pulling him closer. “Okay...”
He pulled back, his golden eyes burning. “Tell me what you want, my love,” he commanded gently. “Tell me how you want it.”
“I want to feel all of you inside me,” you breathed.
He smirked, standing up straighter and reaching behind him. You blinked and swallowed, watching the pink tendrils of his kuru dance as he held it up. His head tilted.
“Not happening without this,” he murmured.
You looked at him with wide eyes. “The bond... We will be—”
“Mates. I will be yours, for life,” he licks his lips. “and you will be mine. For life.” This time, his eyes darkened significantly.
A soft smile cut through your lips, reaching behind you to grab the thick plait of braid and bring it between you. “I think I want that...”
He swallowed and nodded, but he looked like he was going to melt. He held your hand and pulled you down, and once you were both kneeling under the purple glow of the Tree of Souls, he brought his kuru to bind with yours, sending an instantaneous jolt of electricity down your spine that spread through your limbs.
You have never made a bond with any creature on Pandora. You didn’t know what your kuru could do or give you if you connected it to any living being, but the rush of emotions through the bond is an unexplainable phenomenon that not even a scientist like you could come up with words for. You were feeling the absolute weight of his devotion, how you now his entire world, anchored to his soul forever.
You stared up at Neteyam and watched the gold of his eyes got nearly swallowed by the black. You smiled as the warmth of the memory of the first time he ever saw you surged through the bond, his secret admiration, and the quiet moments he spent hoping for this exact night.
This is insane, you thought. This is more than what any human would ever experience. You moved closer to him, reaching for his face and he leaned down to kiss you, wrapping his arm around you while his other hand fumbled with the ties of your loincloth around your tail. Once it’s off and you’re naked as the day you were successfully-made-and-put-in-an-amnio-tank, he lowered you down on the grass.
With a primal glint in his gaze, Neteyam pushed himself up over you, and you were treated to the view of the broad expanse of his shoulder and chest. You bit your lip as you watched him strip his own loincloth away. Your eyes snapped down when his cock sprang free, a powerful and thick column of dark indigo, engorged, and pulsing with heavy life.
Your jaw literally dropped as you stared down, your brain temporarily short-circuiting at the sheer scale of it. “Oh, sweet Lord,” you blurted out, your eyes widening as his large hand grabbed your thigh. “Hold on, timeout!” He stopped and looked at you. You bit your lip, “We need to slow down. Neteyam, honey, this body is technically a virgin and she has not trained to take an absolute monster like that! Are you trying to split her in half?”
Neteyam blinked, a sudden, hilariously confused expression fracturing his fierce look. “A... monster?” He looked down at himself, then back at you, his ears twitching in genuine bewilderment. “Yawne, it is... normal. I am normal.”
“For a nine-foot-tall, maybe!” you chuckled, though you were already biting your lip, your tail thumping against the grass excitedly as you spread your legs for him, “Alright. Go big or go home!”
He let out a breathless laugh, the sweet, adoring man returning for a fraction of a second as he gently pushed you back onto the soft grass. He hovered over you, positioning himself between your legs, his cock brushing against your slick folds and making you gasp.
“Look at me, baby,” he rough-whispered. Slowly, he began to push.
The thick head found your opening, and he pressed with a gentle, patient insistence. You whimpered, your hips arching instinctively to meet him as his shaft slowly stretched you inch by inch until he was buried completely to the hilt.
You trembled, a deep, incredibly satisfying fullness making your head spin. He paused, letting you adjust, his eyes never leaving yours as his large hands tenderly cradled your face.
“Good?” he murmured, kissing you softly.
“Yes,” you panted against his lips, your nails digging into his muscular shoulders.
He began to move with slow, deliberate thrusts, pulling almost entirely out before plunging back in. Your hips rose rhythmically to meet his, his hand locked around one of your thighs to spread you wider.
“Oh, baby,” you commanded, your voice raw. “Faster.”
He obeyed instantly. His thrusts gained a powerful, forceful momentum, his hips slamming against yours. Your breathless moans mingled with his deep, guttural grunts of pleasure. He picked up the pace, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his entire body straining with the sweet effort of pleasing you.
“I’m going to come,” you cried out, your vision blurring with white sparks.
Neteyam smiled, a primal, satisfied grin breaking across his face. He pulled back just enough to torment you, then drove back in with a powerful, precise angle that hit your sweetest spot dead-on. A loud whimper tore from your throat as your body completely seized. A violent orgasm ripped through you, your walls clenching tightly around his cock, milking him fiercely. You bucked and writhed beneath him, completely undone.
Holding you tight, Neteyam rode you over the wave of your climax, his own release building rapidly. With a final, guttural roar, he emptied his heavy warmth deep inside you, his body shuddering violently as he collapsed gently onto you, his chest heaving, his heart hammering wildly against your own.
You lay there for a long time, completely breathless, the scent of the jungle and sex heavy in the air. His cock, still buried inside you, pulsed gently as you felt the warm wetness of his seed filling you.
You let out a weak, shaky giggle, your fingers weakly patting his arm. “Okay... experiment concluded. Avatar structural integrity successfully maintained. Ten out of ten, Commander.”
Neteyam let out a soft, exhausted chuckle against your neck, kissing his way up to your lips to give you a tender, deeply sweet kiss. “Glad to hear that,” he mumbled. “I love you so much.
You stared up at him with bright eyes, grinning at him. “I love you, Neteyam.”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The link unit let out a loud, sharp hiss as soon as you are back in your body. You breathed in the slightly metallic air, your heart beating rhythmically against your ribs as you let what just happened sink in. You mated with Neteyam. You are bounded to him forever, and you know it.
Before you could even fully stretch your cramped limbs, you heard the heavy footsteps of what you know belong to the military. You rolled your eyes when three soldiers, clad in full tactical gear, appeared near your link unit.
“Jesus... do you guys ever knock? Or do they just teach you how to kick down doors at Bridgehead basic training?”
The soldier in the center stepped right up to the edge of the link bed. “You've been under for fourteen hours straight, brainiac. For someone who claims to be locked up in a dungeon by the local savages, we've noticed you log into your avatar for an awful lot of hours. Day in, day out. The data logs from this shack are lighting up the grid like a Christmas tree.”
You pulled yourself to sit up, looking at him and letting your face twist into an expression of sheer, unadulterated exhaustion. A mask you had perfected over the last months.
“Yeah, Miller, it's called survival,” you snapped, your voice raspy as you reached for a bottle of water on the side table. “I'm trying to keep the avatar alive. Those people are still feeding the damn thing, alright? They haven't chopped its head off yet because they think it's a harmless and pathetic. If I don't log back in there regularly, if I don't keep up the act of being their perfect captive, it's going to die. And then this multi-billion-dollar asset becomes completely useless to the company. Do you want to explain that loss to the board?”
Miller narrowed his eyes, leaning down until his exopack hissed near your face. “Then why the need for this relocation? If you're not hiding anything, why did you insist on moving your entire setup out to the mountains? This shack used to be within standard radius. Now you're out here in the fog.”
“Because your surveillance is loud, stupid, and they do nothing but intimidate the ones who are actually working to advance what Earth knows about this world,” you replied.
Miller sneered, but before he could step any closer, Dr. Danel stepped forward, his sharp, weathered face set in a furious glare as he planted herself directly between the soldiers and your link unit.
“That is enough, Corporal!” he said. “πou have no right to come into this facility and strong-arm us. The research division is not under the jurisdiction of General Ardmore's immediate military arm. We operate under a separate corporate charter, and I am reminding you,right now, that we are here to research, not submit to your paranoia!”
The two soldiers behind Miller shifted their weight, but Danel didn't back down an inch. He pointed a finger directly at Miller’s chest.
“Other scientists have also requested independent outposts precisely because of this toxic, suffocating surveillance from the military,” Danel continued, her chest heaving. “You are disrupting research critical for the corporation. Now, back off.”
You took the cue, leaning forward and putting on a sad face. “And that recom you guys keep talking about? He's probably dead. I've never heard of him again. In fact, the last time I saw the Na’vis pass through the lower cells, they were carrying his gear. He was shot by a heavy arrow directly to the chest. He definitely couldn't have survived that.” You let your voice crack, squeezing your eyes shut as if the memory was too painful to bear. “My avatar is surviving in a hard, cold, dark, and lonely place, Miller. You don't know what it's like for me right now. Every time I open my eyes in that body, I am surrounded by nine-foot-tall killers. I'm doing my job. What are you doing besides giving me a headache?”
From the corner of the lab, Marco immediately stepped up, patting your back with massive, exaggerated sweeps of his hand, nodding at Miller with an expression of deep, solemn sympathy. “Yeah, man. Leave her alone. Cut her some slack.”
Miller stared at you before finally letting out a harsh breath through his nose and took a step back.
“We'll be back to check the logs again next week,” Miller said, his voice dropping into a low threat. “If we find out you're doing anything other than counting leaves out here, General Ardmore will have you back in a brig at Bridgehead before sunset. Let's move out.”
The soldiers turned on their heels, exiting the shack with the same aggressive energy they had entered with. The heavy metal door slammed shut, the lock clicking into place with.
Marco immediately dropped his hands from your shoulders, letting out a massive breath. “Holy shit... that was an insane clutch, Y/N. Seriously, my heart was in my throat,” he said. “What took you so long out there? You know you can't keep this lie up for long, right? They're going to cross-reference the log feeds eventually.”
You dropped your head into your hands, your messy hair falling over your face. A deep, heavy sigh racked your small frame. “I know, Marco. I know, and... and... and...“
Dr. Danel adjusted his glasses, his eyes sharp as he looked down at your confused face. “What's going on, kid? You look like you're about to throw up.”
You bit your dry lip, slowly raising your head to look at them sheepishly. Your face felt hot, a deep flush spreading across your cheeks that had absolutely nothing to do with the link. “I... I mated with Neteyam.”
You watched their faces at the silence stretched
Marco blinked, then his jaw dropped low. “Jake Sully’s son is named Neteyam?!” he yelped.
“Jesus, what?” Dr. Danel said at the exact same time.
“Yes, his name’s Neteyam,” you told Marco, your voice squeaking slightly as you tried to look anywhere but at Dr. Danel’s gaze.
Marco burst into a sudden, loud chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s probably a Na’vi version of Nathan—”
“Right?!” you laughed, the sheer absurdity of the situation breaking through your panic. “I told him once that he looks like a Nathan! And his brother’s named Lo’ak. That's like Luke or—”
“Kid, listen to me,” Dr. Danel interrupted, his voice cutting through the laughter you were sharing with Marco, and he didn't look amused. In fact, his face had gone completely pale. “You mated with Jake Sully’s son? The firstborn?”
“Yes...” you said, your voice dropping into a small, sheepish whisper. You rubbed the back of your neck. “We... we made the bond. Under the Tree of Souls.”
Dr. Danel took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a look of profound gravity. “We can't stay here,” he said flatly.
“W-why?” you asked. “We're safe out here in the ridge, aren't we? The military barely wants to fly through the vortex fields.“
“Y/N, the Na’vi mate for life. You are his wife,” Dr. Danel said, looking at you with an intensity that made you realize the full weight of what you had done. “You cannot be his wife for only half a day and be here in a tin can for the other half. The military is out on your tail. One day soon, they will find out where you really are. And when they realize who you are to the Omatikaya now? They will use you. Or they will kill you to get to them. And that boy will not give you up.”
You bit your lip. “I really brought him trouble.”
“It could be the other way around, too. That boy has given the military a huge headache since we got back here,” he said. “He will bring them trouble. Because of you.”
You bit your lip so hard you tasted copper, your cheeks burning a violent, deep pink as the memory of Neteyam's heavy warmth and the sheer mind-melting intensity of the bond flashed through your mind. He’s so hot.
Marco narrowed his eyes at you, a teasing smirk spreading across his face as he noticed your furious blushing. He opened his mouth to make a horribly inappropriate joke about Na’vi anatomy, but he caught the look on Dr. Danel's face and remembered the severity of the situation.
“Doc, what do you mean about not staying here?” Marco asked, his tone turning serious. “Where are we supposed to go? We have tons of delicate equipment in this shack.”
“Right. Does that mean you want us to relocate directly to the Omatikaya?” you asked, your heart hammering
“Yes,” Dr. Danel answered without a single shred of hesitation. “Because you chose your life, Y/N, and we’re going to make it easy for you. We are your team. We aren't going to let the RDA turn you into a political prisoner.”
The sheer, unconditional protection in his voice brought a sudden, fierce prickle of tears to your eyes. You swallowed hard, looking at the two scientists who had become your real family on this moon.
“We need to get out of the military’s eyes altogether,” Dr. Danel continued, pacing the small width of the lab. "Disappear. I don’t see why we can’t work with Norm and Max if they'll have us. Besides, this needs to be done before the military sets their foot on our necks and keeps you hostage, which I bet will turn into something unimaginable.”
“But how?” you reasoned, gesturing around the space. “The link units are here. Our labs are here. We need everything inside this shack, we can't just leave it behind. If we disconnect the main trunk, the data will corrupt.”
“We can... we can have it airlifted,” Marco suggested, snapping his fingers. “I can ask a favor from Jason. He flies a Samson. I can bribe him with some of that real coffee we smuggled in.”
“No, we can't do that,” Dr. Danel countered immediately. “The RDA radar grid around Bridgehead tracks every single aviation signature. If a Samson flies into Omatikaya territory, they’ll trace the flight path instantly. They'll follow it right to our new doorstep.”
“Well, we can't lift a these reinforced steel container on our own, Doc,” Marco muttered, throwing his hands up. “Unless you've grown some super-strength over the weekend.“
“Wait,” you said, raising a hand, a sudden spark of an idea lighting up your brain. “I... I can talk to Neteyam. Norm and Max were already asking me to stay permanently at the human facilities. I think they'd like more brains there anyway.”
By the morrow, you’re back lying down onto the soft gel pad of the link unit and the smell of sweet, crushed moss of the forest rushed into your lungs. You opened your eyes to the sight of the crystal-like long tendrils of the Tree of Souls gently swaying above you. You felt insanely warm, feeling the heavy arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling your back flush against a broad, smooth chest that rumbled with every slow, deep breath.
Neteyam was still asleep, his nose buried deep in the crook of your neck. His tail was loosely coiled around your thigh, a subconscious anchor that held you tight even in his dreams. You shifted slightly, a breathless sigh escaping your lips as the movement instantly woke him.
Neteyam’s ears twitched, rising slowly as his golden eyes blinked open, dark and heavy with sleep. The moment he realized you were awake, a soft, incredibly tender smile broke across his beautiful features. He didn't say a word at first; he just tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single inch of air between your bodies. He dipped his head, pressing a warm kiss directly against your jawline.
“Morning,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated straight through your skin. Through the bond, you could feel the huge ball of warmth in his chest as he hugged you closer, but he also felt the sharp prick of your anxiety. He pushed himself up on his elbow to look at you. “What’s wrong?”
You turned around in his arms so you could look at him. You reached up, your long finger gently tracing the strong line of his jaw. “The— the soldiers. They came to the shack... They are uspicious over the time I'm spending in this body.”
His eyes darkened instantly, the sleepy softness vanishing, replaced by a fierce, cold steel. He sat up, his back muscles flexing. “Did they hurt you?”
“No, no,” you quickly reassured him, pulling him back down by his neck until his forehead rested against yours. “Dr. Danel and Marco stopped them. But Dr. Danel is right... we can't stay there anymore. If we stay, they'll find out I'm with you. They'll use me to get to you.”
His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “I will not let them touch you. They can’t just do that, they can’t threaten you like that anytime they want. We will relocate your outpost near here.”
“That's the problem,” you sighed, your tail twitching nervously against the grass. “If we relocate, we can't use a human helicopter. The military will track the flight path.”
His head tilted, an amused smirk on his lips. “A Samson is not the only thing that can lift a metal box, yawne.”
You blinked, your own head tilting in question.
“Toruk,” Neteyam said simply. “We must talk to Norm.”
So almost an hour of walk later, you were back at the human facilities with Neteyam standing behind you as you talk to Norm.
“The military just raided our outpost last night. They saw my log-in hours and apparently, it doesn’t look like the log-in hours of someone locked up in a dungeon,” you told him. “Dr. Danel wants to pull the plug and relocate us... here. But we have no way to transport the link shacks without the RDA tracking the Samson’s flight path..“
Norm’s expression shifted from tired to completely alert in a split second. “I knew Ardmore was going to tighten the leash. If they catch you—”
“They won’t,” Neteyam cut in. “We have a way to move their shacks.”
“But, Norm, I need to know if you have space for two more scientists... Danel and Marco are coming with me.”
“The demon we had the day Y/N came in was dead. He did not survive his wound. But the soldiers will use his ghost to hunt my mate. We must bring her people into the safety of our lands."
Your brows furrowed when Norm’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and Neteyam. “Did... did he just say mate?” Norm sputtered. “Y/N... you are mated with Neteyam?”
Neteyam’s hand snaked around your waist. “Yes. She is my mate,” he confirmed.
Norm let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Wow. Okay. Holy shit, Jake is going to have a stroke... wait, no, Jake actually predicted this, didn't he? Alright, all the more reason you need to be relocated immediately and you can be relocated here. I’ll talk to Jake.”
You let out a massive sigh of relief, your shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, Norm...”
“There is no trouble to forgive, kid,” Norm said, his expression softening into something genuinely protective. “You’ve been part of this family since you got those neural emulation codes working. Now that the tech is almost replicated, we’ve tested it for defensive patrols and it’s brilliant. You are as much a part of this resistance as any of us. And I bet you got some sweet new tech at that outpost?”
You grinned, your tail swishing with a sudden spark of pride. “Oh, we do, Norm. A whole shack of it. State-of-the-art RDA research tech we ‘forgot’ to catalog during the evacuation.”
“Perfect,” Norm grinned back. “Get your people ready. I'm going to find Jake.”
The longhouse of the Omatikaya council was an intimidating place.
When you and Neteyam entered, the atmosphere was already thick with tension. Jake Sully stood at the center, while Neytiri stood just behind him, her arms crossed over her chest. The clan elders, including Maneya's father, were gathered in a semi-circle, their faces hard and unyielding.
Norm had already briefed Jake, and the Olo’eyktan didn't waste any time.
“Y/N’s people are coming here,“ Jake announced, his eyes sweeping across the elders. “She provided us with critical intelligence, and their new technology will help us protect our borders even further. We are going to move their shacks near the human facilities.”
Instantly, an older, scarred warrior named Elder Karin stood up, his tail lashing with anger. “Toruk Makto... you allow too much sky people presence in this clan! First your dreamwalker friends, then this one who wanders our camp like a pet. Now you wish to bring more of their metal boxes into our grounds? It will put our people in jeopardy should these sky people decide to betray us to their soldiers!”
You took a step forward, the urge to defend your people fiercer than your fear. “We won’t do that, Elder Karin. We resent the military—”
“And who allowed you to speak here, dreamwalker?” a harsh voice boomed from the side of the circle. It was Maneya’s father, a warrior whose chest was covered in scars. He glared down at you as if you were an insect. “You have no voice here.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but Neteyam stepped in front of you, his entire posture shifted, his broad shoulders blocking you from the warrior's view with his towering height.
“She is allowed to speak,” Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a calm, gravelly register. He looked directly at Maneya’s father, his eyes flashing. “Y/N is my mate.”
Several elders gasped, their ears twitching violently in shock. Maneya's father stiffened, his hands clenching into fists as a low, furious hiss started in his throat. You turned your head slightly, your eyes widening in sheer panic as you stared up at Neteyam. You hadn't expected him to drop the bomb right now, in front of the entire governing body of the clan.
“I will vouch for her and her people,” Neteyam continued, his voice ringing through the cavernous space with absolute authority. “If she or they happen to betray the clan... you’ll have my head.”
“Neteyam!” both you and Neytiri shouted at the exact same time.
Your hand shot out, pressing flat against his warm chest, your fingers trembling. “Neteyam, stop, don't say that—”
He kept his eyes locked on the elders, though, his chest expanding under your palm as he took a deep breath. “I’m going to put it out there, and I mean it,” he said, his voice softening just enough for them to hear the absolute, unyielding devotion behind it. “I am not an idiot who made my choice based on petty reasons. I know who I mated with, and I will stand by my decision. Even if it costs me my life.”
Your shoulder slumped as you let out a shuddering breath. You hated the fact that your presence, your identity as a dreamwalker, was bringing this much turmoil to the man you loved. You felt like an anchor dragging him down into the mud of clan politics.
But before you could spiral into your own head, a hand covered yours where it rested on Neteyam’s chest.
You looked up, startled and saw Neytiri’s eyes on you. She squeezed your hand against her son's chest, making your heart leap into your throat. She looked back up at the council, her spine straightening as she stood by her son.
Jake Sully looked at the council. “My son made his choice.”
Jake’s decision and order were rock solid, and a few hours later, you were already riding behind Neteyam on his ikran, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso. But as you broke through the cloud cover, a massive, towering shadow loomed over the entire valley.
You looked up and saw the massive, red-and-orange beast flying through the mist, its wingspan wide enough to shadow an entire valley. Perched atop it was Jake Sully. Toruk had lifted heavy equipment before, back when the clan evacuated to High Camp years ago, and Jake knew exactly how to rig the cargo straps to the container's reinforced corner castings.
Neteyam landed his ikran smoothly on the cliff edge outside your shack. The moment his feet touched the ground, the door to the outpost opened, and Dr. Danel and Marco stepped out, both wearing their exopacks. Dr Danel stopped dead in his tracks, his lips parting slightly as he looked up at the massive form of Toruk settling onto the ridge above them. “My God... I read the reports, but seeing that thing in person... it's terrifying,” he whispered, completely starstruck.
Marco, meanwhile, was looking at you. He walked up to you, a massive grin on his face. “Oh, thank God, your avatar’s really safe," he said, reaching out to give you a huge hug. “You talk to us every day from the box, but seeing the blue version of you here is great!”
Before he could reach you, though, a large hand gently but firmly pulled you back by your elbow by just half an inch. You looked at Neteyam and saw his ears tilted slightly back, his eyes tracking Marco with a quiet, possessive intensity.
You burst out laughing, holding Neteyam’s hand. “He’s one of the scientists I’m working with. He’s like Norm,” you told him, giving him a reassuring smile.
Neteyam’s ears came back up, though his hand is now firmly anchored to your waist. He nodded once to Marco. “I am Neteyam.”
Marco looked up at the nine-foot-tall warrior, his eyes tracking from Neteyam’s broad chest down to where his hand was squeezing your waist. “N-Nice to meet you, man. I’m Marco.”
“We need to move quickly,” Jake called. Dr. Danel was already talking to him and the warriors who were in company.
They all worked together to tie the heavy cables around the container's main chassis, while you stepped inside the shack log out of your avatar, laying down on your designated bed and closing your eyes as Marco initiated the remote sleep sequence. Within minutes, the world faded to black.
A sharp hiss echoed in the shack as it depressures and you opened your eyes to Marco pulling the neural cap off your smaller head. You moved your fingers and toes, pulling yourself up. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a dark monitor screen. Your hair was a mess and your skin looked slightly pale from the lack of sunlight.
“Marco,” you muttered, fixing your top. “Do I look okay? Or do I look like a swamp monster that's been living in a basement for three weeks?”
Marco rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might clip into the back of his skull. “I don't think that man out there is going to care about your split ends, Y/N. The guy is completely head over heels for you.”
“Yeah, he's head over heels for the avatar,” you sighed, finger-combing your hair before wearing your own exopack. “He hasn't seen this version. The human who needs a plastic bubble just to breathe his air.”
“Oh, please. If he survived your personality in the blue body, he can handle your hair in this one,” Marco scoffed, punching the final release valve on the container's seals. “Let's go. They're waiting.”
The heavy metal door hissed open, and you stepped, the wind whipping around your hair as you clutched the straps of your exopack. Dr. Danel and Marco were already walking toward the two Omatikaya warriors who had volunteered to carry them on their ikrans. Neteyam, however, was standing right near the edge, finishing a quiet conversation with his father.
But the moment the door shut behind you, his eyes were on you. You stopped walking for a moment, feeling small standing there in your human clothes and the clear plastic mask covering your face. You raised your hand and gave him a little wave as you grinned mischievously.
Neteyam didn't move for a long moment, just standing there, his eyes wide, his gaze trained entirely on your face even as you walked up to him. He looked like he had just been dropped into a trance, peering down through the dark fringe of his long lashes, his eyes scanning every single detail of your features.
You cleared your throat. “Look at that height difference. It's ridiculous. Are you going to need a magnifying glass just to talk to me now, Commander?”
Jake Sully let out a loud laugh as he adjusted Toruk's harness. “That we can agree on. The height difference is a killer. Thankfully, my time only lasted like three seconds.”
Dr. Danel called out your name, waving you over to where the other warriors were preparing for takeoff. He and Jake walked toward the edge to supervise the final cable tension, leaving you and Neteyam alone on the platform.
“Why are you so silent?” you whispered, looking up at him. “Is it weird?”
Neteyam blinked, as if finally snapping out of whatever spell he was under. He shook his head, his ears tilting forward. “It is not weird,” he whispered, his deep voice carrying a soft, breathy reverence that made your stomach do a violent flip. “It is just... y-you are so beautiful, Y/N. In this body, too.”
A massive smirk broke through your face. “Will it be too cocky of me to say I already know that?” you whispered back.
Neteyam’s eyes narrowed playfully, a familiar, beautiful warmth returning to his expression. “Since when did you ever care about not being cocky, my love?”
You giggled, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his hand. He pulled you gently toward where his ikran was waiting, the large mountain banshee tracking your small movement with its sharp, intelligent eyes.
“Wow... everything out here is just so incredibly big,” you muttered, looking up at the towering wings of the banshee, then up at Toruk hovering above. Then, your head snapped back to Neteyam. “didn't specifically mean you, by the way! But... I mean, you're included in that observation.”
Neteyam let out a low, gravelly chuckle, and before you could even register what he was doing, his massive hands spanned your waist. With a single, effortless lift, he plopped you right on top of the ikran’s leather saddle.
“Oh, no! Neteyam, wait!” you shrieked, your hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth leather. “What if he decides to fly off with just me?!”
“I am right here,” he murmured, mounting behind you as he made the bond. He leaned forward, his massive chest pressing flush against your back, completely enveloping your smaller body in his warmth.
Above you, Toruk shook the rocks beneath the ridge with a massive sweep of its wings, surging upward into the fog, effortlessly lifting the metal shack into the air like it was a children's toy.
Neteyam’s ikran leaped off the ridge, plunging straight into the open sky. Your hands clamped onto Neteyam's thick, muscular forearm as it wrapped around you like a seatbelt.
“Is it tight enough?” he whispered, his deep, gravelly voice buzzing directly against your ear.
You felt a sudden, hot shiver run straight down your spine. Your mind instantly went somewhere incredibly inappropriate, remembering the way that exact same voice had sounded against your skin under the Tree of Souls the night before. You internally scolded yourself, but it didn't change the fact that your heart was pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with gravity.
“Y-yes...” you muttered, leaning back into his massive chest.
He pulled your significantly smaller body completely against his torso, shielding you from the crosswinds. The flight into the territories of the Omatikaya was fortunately uneventful, with Toruk delivering the link shacks safely into the deep part of the forest, right adjacent to the human facilities.
The moment you arrived, Norm and a handful of other scientists were waiting on the reinforced catwalks. Dr. Danel immediately stepped off his warrior's ikran to greet Norm. The two of them had worked in parallel branches of the RDA research sector years and years ago, and within five minutes, they were already animatedly talking about what could be done to hasten the project you were currently working on with them.
While they were talking, you walked toward the entrance of the newly placed container shack to prepare for your log-in. Neteyam followed you, his large hand never letting go of yours as you guided him through the narrow, heavy steel door of the shack.
“This is where I live whenever I'm back in my human body. It's not exactly Hometree, but it has good air conditioning,” you grinned, gesturing around the cramped, highly advanced laboratory space.
You showed him the primary link unit, pointing to the soft gel mattress where your human body spent hours every day. You reached up, unbuckling your human exopack and handing him a recon breather mask just in case he needed to breathe his own air. He held the it with immense curiosity, his large fingers turning it over like a puzzle, telling you he really wasn’t one to spend a lot of time in the human facilities.
Neteyam walked around the small lab, his long tail sweeping carefully behind him to avoid knocking over any glass beakers or computer monitors. He was fascinated by everything, his golden eyes wide as you excitedly rambled on about your job.
“Alright, let me show you how I link back to my avatar,” you grinned, taking a step toward the link bed.
But before your foot could even touch the frame, Neteyam’s hand caught your elbow. With a gentle, effortless tug, he pulled you back toward him. He leaned against the heavy metal workbench, his massive form still towering over you even while semi-reclined.
“Don't link back yet,” he whispered, his voice dropping into that quiet, possessive register that always made your knees weak. He looked down at your small human hands, his long blue fingers gently weaving through yours. “Besides... isn't this the time allotted for your human body? The time you must rest?”
You bit your lip, looking up at him. “Yeah... it is. I just thought... well, I thought it would be better if I logged back in so I could be almost as tall as you again.” you rolled your eyes.
Neteyam let out a soft, low chuckle. His large hands moved from your fingers to your waist, his grip warm as he pulled you directly between his long legs. You stood there, completely bracketed by him.
“It does not matter,” he said softly. “I really like this version, too. You are... very cute.”
“Cute?!” you gasped, your eyes as you let out a defensive chuckle. “Excuse me, Commander, I am not a puppy! You just don't know, but for humans? I'm actually considered really hot. Like, premium tier.”
Neteyam’s playful smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening. “I can see that...” he mumbled, his voice turning hoarse as his hand on your waist caressed your curve against the fabric of your tank top. “Did... did any man back at Bridgehead tried?”
“No,” you whispered, looking directly into his intense gaze. “I'm not really fond of soldiers.”
His brow raised, his head tilting slightly in question. “No?”
You pushed your lips forward into a little pout, your small human hands pressing flat against his hard, heavily muscled abdomen. “No. But... I find I have a massive thing for nine-foot-tall blue warriors who can hit a bull's eye with a longbow even with his eyes closed. Which is so much cooler than being a trigger-happy moron with a rifle.”
Neteyam’s chest rumbled with a deep purr. You leaned your head all the way back, reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss him, and he lowered his massive head instantly, his lips crashing down onto yours with an explosive, hungry heat. He pulled you flush against his frame, his large hands anchoring you to his hips as the kiss deepened, your small human mouth completely consumed by his.
Suddenly, the heavy pneumatic door of the shack hissed open with a loud rush of air.
“Hey, Y/N, we need to calibrate the secondary—” Norm’s voice cut off instantly.
He and Dr. Danel stood in the doorway, both freezing mid-step. You immediately pushed against Neteyam’s chest, breaking the kiss and stumbling back a step, immediately starting to talk about the project. Neteyam just stood there, entirely unbothered, a smug, deeply satisfied smirk gracing his lips as he looked over your head at the two older scientists.
They had definitely seen everything they needed to see.
For the next two weeks, the human facilities became a furnace of pure, collaborative energy.
You lived with Neteyam in the hut you two share as a mated couple, slowly integrating as a member of the clan now. You sleep wrapped in his arms every single night on the soft woven mats, but during the days, you, Dr. Danel, and Marco worked tirelessly between the link shacks and the main human labs.
You stretched, waking up slowly to the sight of golden light filtering through the kelku, dappling inside the room. Neteyam's chest vibrated against your shoulders. He was holding you tightly, his arms locked around your waist, his long tail resting over your hip.
You craned your neck, pressing a soft kiss to his chin as your own tail gently curled around his thigh. “Wake up, lover boy...”
Neteyam buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he pressed a kiss against your soft skin. He pulled himself up, pulling you in for a deep kiss. “I’ll walk you to the shack.”
You pushed your lips forward, “You have morning patrol,” you reminded him.
“Which wouldn’t be for an hour,” he reasoned, grabbing your loincloth near you and pulling the soft covers off your naked body. “Do we have time?” he asked, dipping his head low to start kissing your jaw.
“No, Commander. No, we don’t,” you said sweetly, kissing his cheek as you grabbed your top.
He groaned, pressing his nose against your neck as he hugged you. “If they want me out there, they’ll need to perfume the air with your smell because I’ve been needing a day with just this,” he drawled, kissing your neck.
“Other things can be done, you know...” you whispered, pushing yourself up on your elbow and gathering your hair.
He lifted his head up, his hot gaze dropping down to you licking your lips.
An hour later, you were standing in the lab with Dr. Danel, Norm, Max, and the other scientists. Jake Sully came the moment Norm called him to see the finish product of what you all have worked on in the past months. Jake held up a small, heavily modified metallic strip between his fingers.
“Alright. I understand that the emulator we brought Y/N months ago will help us hide our tracks during raids... This will do that?”
Norm nodded, “Yes. We managed to reverse-engineer the emulation codes. The raiding party could wear these tags, and when they hit the weapon’s transports, the sensor perimeters would send out a false-positive loop back to Bridgehead. To their automated automated tracking systems, we will be friends, not foes.”
Jake nodded. “This is a game changer, Norm, Y/N, Max,” he said. “We’ll try this in the next raid.”
“Jake, there isn’t a hundred-percent guarantee that it would work but we have tried running tests,” Max told him.
Jake shrugs, “It could make a difference or it could not. Besides, we’ve been doing the raids without this for so long, but if it works, it will be great.”
The rest of that day and the following one were spent in a whirlwind of intense preparation. The war party was mobilizing for a massive raid on an RDA weapons railcar, while Neteyam stayed back at the lab with you that evening to finalize the deployment coordinates. With Dr. Danel and Marco asleep in their own modules, you two spent the night tangled together in your avatar’s cot.
Your avatar was back at Hometree though. It’s you in your human form that he’s holding with an incredible, fragile tenderness, his massive hands mapping every curve of your smaller body as you made out in the quiet dark.
You pressed your palm against his solid chest, moaning as he deepened the kiss, sucking at your tongue. You caressed the braids on his nape, caressing his soft skin as you moved your hips against him. You two eventually fell asleep, you with your head nestled perfectly into the crook of his collarbone and him with his arms wrapped around you tightly.
The next morning, you woke up with your hair completely messy and wild. Neteyam sat up beside you, looking down at your birds-nest hair and bursting into a sudden, booming laugh.
“Oh, shut up!” you huffed, throwing a pillow at his chest. “I did ask you for a haircare secret and you didn't give me anything! You just naturally look like a supermodel while I look like a troll!”
Neteyam laughed even harder, his massive arms reaching out to scoop your body back against his chest. He buried his large face into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing warm, heavy kisses against your skin as he held you tight. “You are beautiful,” he mumbled happily. “Always.”
You prepared for the day, sitting on the soft gel of your link unit and leaning up to kiss him. “See you at Hometree, Commander,” you murmured.
“See you there, my love,” he replied.
You lay back down onto the link unit, pulling the neural cap over your head and sliding into the dark.
When your avatar opened its eyes back at Hometree, your ears picked up on the buzzing sound from the lower branches humming with intense energy. Before you could even stretched, someone suddenly bounded into the kelku, and when you looked up, you saw Tuk with her tail swishing with frantic excitement as she grabbed your large hand.
“Y/N! Come on! Come on! The war party is assembling downstairs! You have to be there!”
“Why should I be there, Tuk?” you mused with a grin, letting the young girl drag you down the winding root pathways of the tree. “I'm just the tech support.”
“Because!” she beamed, pulling you right into the center of the clearing.
The moment you stepped into the communal clearing, you saw the warriors sharpening their arrows, checking the straps on their bowstrings, and preparing their war paint. Your eyes caught Neteyam who just entered the clearing, too, his knife sheath secured in his chest and his longbow strapped across his back. The second he saw you, he walked straight through the crowd, ignoring the lingering stares of the elders. He caught your waist, pulling you tightly against him, and dipped his head to kiss you hard and deep.
Tuk giggled loudly, running up beside you two with two small clay bowls filled with thick yellow and turquoise paint. “Here! His war paint!”
You chuckled, taking the bowls from her. Neteyam pulled you into a quiet, shaded corner of the clearing, sitting down on a low ledge. You dipped your fingers into the cool, turquoise paste, carefully drawing the sharp, traditional lines across his high cheekbones and down the powerful expanse of his chest.
Neteyam watched you the entire time, his golden eyes filled with an intense, quiet devotion. As you finished the last line on his shoulder, he reached down, pressing your hand into the bright yellow paint. His eyes locked onto yours as he pressed your painted palm directly over the center of his chest, leaving a perfect yellow print of your five-fingered hand on his skin.
“My heart is your,“ he whispered.
Your chuckled, you ought to tease him for being too cheesy, but your throat tightened with emotion. You leaned up and kissed him hard. “Come home to me safe, Neteyam.”
Turns out, the raid was an absolute success.
The RFID tags worked perfectly, completely blinding the RDA’s automated sensors as the war party swooped down on the railcar, securing several crates of advanced weaponry and medical supplies without a single casualty.
That evening, the celebration at Hometree was wild and loud. Fire blazed in the center of the clearing and the sound of drums and laughter echoed through the canopy. Even Dr. Danel and Marco had come up from the labs, wearing their exopacks and socializing with the other scientists and warriors.
You danced and drank with Kiri and your friends, laughing until your sides ached, completely lost in the joy of the victory.
Suddenly, a large hand slid around your waist from behind, stealing you away from the group, his arm pulling you into a slow, rhythmic sway near the edge of the firelight. You looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you moved together to the beat of the drums.
“Aren't you going to police my schedule, Commander?” you whispered teasingly, your eyes sparkling. xAren't you going to talk about how I've been in the avatar for too many hours and need to log out now?”
“No,” Neteyam mumbled, his head dipping down until his lips brushed against your ear. “Because we are still having fun... and I want to hold my wife.”
You smirked, a wicked, playful thought lighting up your brain. You leaned up, your tongue darting out to lick at your lips. “Except... we could also have a different kind of fun back at the shack, Neteyam... with my human body.”
Neteyam’s head reared back instantly. His golden eyes widened, a sudden, intense heat flashing across his face as his ears twitched violently. “What... what are you talking about?” he mumbled, his voice dropping an entire octave.
You narrowed your eyes playfully, raising a brow. “What, you've never thought about it? Doing it while I'm in my real skin...”
“I... I did, but—... but— but I—" Neteyam stammered, his usual cool, commanding demeanor completely fracturing. He swallowed hard, his jaw tight. “No. Y/N... you are so small. I—I would not want to hurt you.”
You pulled him closer, leaning up to let your lips brush teasingly against his jaw. “Oh, we are so going to the shack right now.”
You squeezed his shoulder, brushing your fingers down his arm before intertwining your fingers with his. You pulled him toward the exit, chuckling softly when he let himself be dragged without a single shred of resistance.
You two walked down the winding wooden ramp that led down to the forest floor, and you were about to start the trek toward the human facilities on foot when Neteyam gently steered you in a different direction toward the direhorse stables.
“Wow, someone's excited,” you teased, your tail swinging in wicked loops as he swiftly freed his direhorse out from the tether.
Before you could even finish the sentence, his large hands clamped onto your waist and plopped you effortlessly onto the back of the beast, making you shriek in surprise. He then mounted the direhorse behind you, his powerful chest locking you into place as he made the bond. With a sharp command, the direhorse surged into the jungle, sprinting toward the human facilities.
When you arrived, you went into the shack and he tailed behind you. He helped you initiate the log out by depressurizing the link unit. The moment your human eyes opened, you pushed the neural cap off and sat up. Neteyam was already standing right beside the link unit, his massive, nine-foot-tall frame making the small room feel even smaller.
You grinned up at him, sliding off the gel mattress. “Oh, I can see those gears turning in your head...” you teased, stepping closer to him. Your smaller hand reached out, sliding down the smooth skin of his muscled abdomen, tracing the line down toward the lower part of his waist.
Neteyam’s hand shot out like lightning though, his large hand gently but firmly catching your wrist, stopping it. “No...” he rough-whispered, his chest heaving. “It won’t be involved, Y/N,” he widened his eyes. “It’s too dangerous for you.”
You rolled your eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Boo! Coward,” you teased, leaning your head all the way up.
Neteyam immediately leaned down even as he was still chuckling, his lips crashing onto yours with a fierce, burning intensity. He wrapped his massive arms around your back and hauled your small body clean off the unit. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs tightly around his massive, muscular torso, your fingers tangling in his thick braids as the kiss deepened, turning hard and desperately hungry.
He started walking blindly toward your curtained nook in the back of the shack, his eyes closed as he consumed your mouth. A loud noise echoed as Neteyam’s head hit the corner of a storage cupboard. He winced, letting out a sharp grunt as his ears pinned back in irritation as he lowered you down onto your mattress.
You broke the kiss, your brows furrowed in worry as you caressed his head. “Are you okay?” you asked, looking at the cupboard. “Be careful, baby...” you leaned up to press soft kisses on the side of his lips. “Hm?”
His groan vibrated in his chest as he hovered over you, his massive frame blocking out the light for you as his head dipped back down. He kissed your jawline, his lips trailing down to nip playfully at the soft skin of your neck, making you squeal and squirm beneath him.
You two kissed and kissed, the heat between you rising rapidly. You reached down, catching his massive hand from where it rested on your waist, and guided it upward, placing his large palm directly over your breast.
“When are you going to touch them?” you mumbled against his lips.
Neteyam let out a deep, guttural groan. His massive hand, which easily covered your entire breast, cupped the ample curve through your tank top. He squeezed it with a careful pressure and a moan escaped your throat, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you kissed him harder.
Suddenly, he pulled his head back, his eyes wide with genuine awe as he kneaded your chest. “It... it is so soft,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. He brought his other hand up, carefully cupping and kneading both of your breasts through the fabric. “Your skin...is like silk.”
You smiled, your hips arching slightly as you reached down, pulling the hem of your tank top up and sliding it over your head, tossing it onto the floor. You heard Neteyam take in a ragged breath, his eyes locking onto your chest before he kissed the swell of it
“Come on!” you whisper-shouted. “You didn't even appreciate my lace bra! I wore the fancy one!”
Neteyam blinked, his head tilting in complete confusion. “Your... what?”
You pushed his massive chest back gently, sitting up slightly and arched your back. A hungry, predatory look were on his eyes as his gaze caressed your body.
“This is the equivalent of a really banging top right now. It’s really sexy,” you mumbled.
A low, dark chuckle escaped his lips. You reached for the latch in the center of your chest, unclasping it and freeing your breasts completely. You watched him lick his lips wet, his ears pinning flat against his head. He lowered his massive head, his warm mouth enveloping one peak as his large fingers gently fondled and squeezed the other.
An intense, scorching rush of liquid heat gushed out between your thighs as he suckled and fondled on them, making you let out a breathless whimper, your hands cradling his head as he enjoyed you.
After what seemed like hours, he left your breasts with their pebbled tips swollen and red, his lips trailing down your abdomen. You reached down, your thumbs hooking on your sweatpants and underwear to roll it off your hips. Following your lead, he pulled it further down and you kicked it off your legs. Neteyam shifted, his massive hand coming down to grip your thigh, his calloused fingers firmly spreading your legs wide on the bed.
You saw him lick his lips as he looked down at your pussy, his hand reaching down to gently caress your velvety, slick folds with his thumb. His golden eyes peered up at you through his lashes, burning with an unadulterated, primal hunger. You bit your lip, nodding to him. Neteyam then leaned down, his mouth pressing directly against your pussy.
You took in a sharp breath, your fingers clutching the bedsheets as his tongue began to lick and kiss you with an incredible devotion he’s already showed you in your avatar body. He ate you out like you were his absolute favorite meal, his deep groans vibrating directly against your core as he licked and suckled at your soft nub. Slowly, carefully, he slid one finger inside you, testing your slick warmth.
“Neteyam...” you panted, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth. “More...”
He added a second finger, his mouth and hands working together in a flawless perfect rhythm until your legs were shaking violently and your entire body seized in a shattering orgasm. You bucked against his hand, completely undone.
Once the waves settled, he hovered back over you, his chest heaving. Your hand shot out, reaching down between his legs to palm his hardened cock. He let out a loud groan, his knees buckling slightly against the frame of the bed.
“Take it out, baby...” you mumbled, your voice thick with desire. “I'll take care of it.”
You reached behind him, helping him untie the bindings of his loincloth. The moment he shed the fabric, his cock sprang free. An impossibly long and thick column of azure, engorged and already licking at the tip. You swallowed hard, pushing yourself up on your elbows. You leaned forward, placing the wide head of his shaft against your lips. You peered up at him through your lashes as you began to lick the sweet essence from the tip, your small hand working the incredible length of his shaft as far down as you could reach.
You tilted your head, moving your mouth to take more of him in, but you could barely get half of it past your lips before your mouth felt completely stuffed. Neteyam let out a loud moan, his hand coming up to grip your hair gently as he carefully moved his hips against your mouth, dragging his length in ths slick warmth of it before gently pulling it out.
His breath was ragged as he started pumping himself with his hand, his other hand firmly keeping your thighs spread wide on the mattress.
He grunted, his body trembling. You reached up, wrapping your small hand around his heavily muscled forearm.
“Put it inside me, Neteyam...” you whispered, your eyes locked onto his. “Please...”
Neteyam bit his lip, his expression fracturing with conflict. He looked terrified of breaking you, but the burning desire to be inside you was written across every inch of his face. You squeezed his forearm when he lowered his hips carefully between your legs.
“Hips up, beautiful...” he said in a low command, his large hand sliding under you to lift your hips off the bed.
You bit your lip as the massive, wide head of his shaft began to nudge against your sensitive, aching folds. You knew there was absolutely no mathematical way his entire length would fit inside you, but you didn't care. You whimpered as the head pushed past your opening, stretching you incredibly wide, while Neteyam let out a deep, guttural grunt as the intense warmth and tightness of your walls embraced him.
You looked down, watching in sheer pleasure as his thick blue cock spread your pussy lips so wide that a huge amount of your own wetness was coating him. His calloused thumb reached down to softly rub your clit as he gently eased himself. His other hand kneaded your soft breast before lowering his head to kiss you deeply.
He stopped pushing in just right, knowing your body's limit. Then, he began to move, dragging his cock in and out of you in a careful, agonizingly slow pace. You kept your back arched, offering your breasts to his mouth. He caught one peak between his lips, suckling hungrily as his hips thrust rhythmically against yours.
“You are... so tight...” he groaned against your skin, his bites turning hard and nipping at the flesh of your breast. “So fucking good, baby.”
“You're just... so big...” you whimpered, tears of sheer pleasure pricking your eyes as you felt every single ridge and vein of his cock molded perfectly against your soft walls.
The intense friction was too much for him to withstand in your tight core that within a few more deliberate thrusts, he let out a loud, primal grunt, his entire body shuddering violently as he spilled his heavy, warm release deep inside you. He carefully pulled out, gripping his throbbing shaft tight as he shivered, painting your pussy with the warmth of his release.
You lay there panting, your fingers caressing his lower abdomen before you u reached down to scoop a dollop of the warm, thick fluid onto your fingers and bring it up to your mouth, licking it off with a playful smirk.
Neteyam let out a low purr, his large hand reaching out to give your breast a squeeze as he smiled down at you. He lowered his head, catching your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he groaned happily.
Suddenly, your eyes snapped wide open. You gasped, aggressively pushing his massive chest away.
Neteyam blinked, looking entirely confused as he sat back on his heels. “What? What is it, my love?”
You scrambled across the bed, your hands frantically grabbing the calendar pad off your nightstand. You stared at the glowing green matrix on the screen, your face turning completely pale.
“What?” Neteyam asked again, his ears tilting forward in concern.
“I'm fertile,” you mumbled in English, blinking up at him with wide, bewildered eyes.
Neteyam’s brow furrowed, his head tilting in confusion. “Fertile? As in good soil?”
“No, me. I’n fertile. I could get pregnant," you said, your face a mix of pure shock and panic. “Like... baby pregnant.”
Neteyam’s head reared back instantly, his ears pinning completely flat against his head. A look of genuine alarm flashed across his face, and he immediately pressed his massive hand flat against your soft belly, as if protecting it. “Baby... no. You won't survive it.”
“I know, oh my goodness,” you said, biting your lip, but as the panic subsided, a sudden realization began to click in your brain. You let out a small, breathless chuckle, patting his massive hand. “But wait... don't worry. It's actually highly impossible for it to happen.”
Neteyam blinked, his ears perking up slightly. “Impossible? Why?”
“Because science,” you nodded at him. “My human immune system will immediately recognize your biological material as a foreign, alien pathogen. The moment it enters my system, my white blood cells are going to launch an assault and attack it. Your little soldiers don't stand a chance against my white blood cells.”
Neteyam stared at you for a long three seconds, processing the complex jargon, before a look of profound, worshipful adoration washed over his beautiful features. He let out a low, rumbling chuckle, leaning down to press a deep, tender kiss right where your forehead met your messy hair.
“You are such a genius, baby,” he murmured against your skin.
You pursed your lips, grinning up at him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Small thing, Commander. That's exactly what brought me to this world in the first place.”
Neteyam smiled, his large arms wrapping completely around your small frame, pulling you close against his chest as the rain began to patter softly against the reinforced steel roof of the shack. “I love your brain,” he whispered adoringly, his golden eyes shining in the dark. “I love you. I love you very much, Y/N.”
You grinned, burying your face into his warm chest, your heart completely at peace. “I love you too, Neteyam.”
pairing aged-up neteyam x omatikaya!huntress reader
notes reader is the sister of neteyam’s best friend, hot-tempered reader (only when it comes to neteyam), cocky neteyam, mutual pining, smut (p in v), oral (f receiving), mentions of blood and violence (not serious)
synopsis being the sister of one of the clan’s most promising warriors is one thing, but having neteyam constantly be there to act as brother #2 is another.
word count 19.4k
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You blinked against the fractured, liquid beams of gold filtering through the woven ceiling of your sleeping alcove. Your arms were still slightly stiff from yesterday’s grueling training, a drill your father had watched with narrowed, critical eyes. You had performed flawlessly, of course. You had to.
You sat up and rubbed your eyes. Usually, your mornings would be filled by the noise of your mother tending to the hearth, your father lecturing your brother on the strategic importance of patrolling the northern border at dawn, or your brother aggressively sharpening his daggers.
But you knew your parents would be out for the first communion of the two babies born this moon and your brother will be on morning patrol, so you weren’t really expecting to see anyone home so when you padded out into the main living area and saw someone casually lounging on one of the woven ball seats.
You took a sharp breath through your nose.
“You’re finally awake,” he said, his voice deeper than it had been a year ago, carrying that smooth cadence that always irritated you.
He was turning a sleek hunting knife in his hands. At seventeen, he already carried himself with the heavy, unshakeable confidence of a man who knew he was born to lead. You froze for a short moment before your mask snapped back into place, your expression hardening into the cold, untouchable gaze the rest of the clan knew all too well.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice clipped.
He flipped the knife once more, catching it expertly by the hilt before sliding it into his chest sheath, his golden eyes never leaving yours while a slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“I came to tell your brother about the change in patrol rotation. I stayed behind when he left because you were still sleeping. It wouldn't be good to leave you here unguarded.”
You crossed your arms, looking down at him from the slight elevation of the alcove steps. “I don’t need a guard, or protection. Besides, no one in this clan would dare cross into this hut.”
“I am not talking about who, I am talking about what,” he countered easily, pushing himself up to his feet and the sudden height difference made you want to take a step back, though you forced your feet to stay glued to the floor. “This part of Hometree is accessible to stray viperwolves. You know that.”
He was right, much to your annoyance. Because your father was Jake’s second-in-command, your mother a fierce huntress, and your brother a rising star among the warriors, your family’s pod was situated on the lower, more vulnerable branches. It was a position of pride, a statement to the clan that your family stood as a shield between danger and the gentler artisans of the upper branches.
Still, you weren't about to give him the satisfaction. You rolled your eyes, a deliberate show of disrespect that you would never dare attempt to do to him in front of your father.
“I am awake now,” you said coldly, walking past him toward the water basin. “You can leave.”
Neteyam let out a low huff of laughter, his cocky nature bleeding into his posture as he tilted his head. “What, no ‘thank you’?” he asked, a smirk playing on his face.
“I did not ask for you to guard me,” you replied smoothly, bringing your waterskin up and taking a slow, deliberate drink to avoid looking at him.
He chuckled, shaking his head. He turned his back to leave, his long tail flicking lazily behind him, but just as he reached the threshold of the pod, he paused and turned around, pointing a long finger toward the hearth.
“I brought you food from earlier since you weren’t at the communal breakfast,” he murmured, his smirk softening into something a little more private. “I didn't know you were such a sleepyhead.”
Before you could snap back a retort, he slipped through the woven entrance and was gone.
The moment his presence left the room, the invisible weight on your chest lifted. You let out a long, ragged breath as you rolled your eyes. Moving to the edge of the pod, you looked out into the bustling morning of the village, your eyes automatically tracking his retreat.
He walked down the massive branch with an easy grace. It was no secret that his father had once been a dreamwalker, an avatar, and Neteyam seemed to have inherited the broader, more muscular physique of his father, setting him apart from the other boys his age, including your older brother's lanky build, making him look like he belonged with the more seasoned warriors.
You watched him until he vanished into the crowd, a familiar, frustrating knot tightening in your stomach. You noticed everything about him and that never sat right with you. He’s your older brother’s best friend and your brother is his shadow, meaning he was a permanent fixture in your periphery.
It didn’t suffice that girls in the clan would want to befriend you to get closer to your brother, Neteyam had to add to the equation, too. So now, you’re burdened by the constant presence of girls pretending to be chummy with you only to ask you about your brother or Neteyam days later.
It made your life less about you and more about them, making you struggle to find age peers who are actually interested in being friends with you.
Except for Lekya and Reti.
They weren't entirely different from the other girls, they still giggled whenever the young hunters walked past and gush over Neteyam and your older brother. But they always seem to be less intimidated by the coldness, and sometimes, meanness, that you use to fend everyone off. You had long given up on trying to shake their presence off. No matter how coldly you ignored them, they always found a way to tail you around, stubbornly dragging you into their plans until your sharp edges softened just a fraction.
Like some days when they would drag you down to the river for a ‘picnic,’ a concept they had apparently learned from the older girls like Kiri and her friends. Now, they had even brought along a boy named Kar’ek, gentle and sharp-witted. You quickly realized he wasn't a threat to your peace in the slightest; he had absolutely no interest in girls, preferring to watch the young hunters from afar with an appreciative eye.
Surprisingly, you found yourself actually enjoying it. Safely hidden under the shade of the trees where the conversation quickly turned from the weather to the young warriors of the clan. They were talking about them like they were heroes, but you had other ideas, like nitpicking every single imperfection you had witnessed on the training grounds.
In that, you became uncharacteristically talkative. It was obvious to the three that you found none of them attractive. They were all trying too hard.
“Like Nurte yesterday,” you said, leaning back on one hand with a scoff. “He took three entire minutes just to aim at a target that wasn't even moving, all because he knew the girlswere watching. It’s pathetic.“
“Oh, well,” Lekya giggled. “He’s just trying to look brave. What about Tayrel? He practically broke a baby tree trunk with his spear during the strength drills.”
“He missed the dummy entirely and hit the tree because his footing was completely off,” you countered smoothly, rolling your eyes. “He has the balance of a newborn ikran. If a viperwolf actually attacked him, he’d trip over his own tail.”
Kar’ek let out a dramatic, breathless laugh, fanning himself with a broad leaf. “Oh, she is vicious today! But she’s not wrong. Tayrel spends more time oiling his braids than practicing his strikes.”
Not even Neteyam was spared to your nitpicking. You were incredibly detailed when you tore into him, mimicking his cocky posture by puffing out your chest and tilting your head back, mocking his signature smirk.
“And don't even get me started on the golden boy,” you scoffed, lowering your voice to copy his deep, confident cadence. “Look at me, I am Neteyam, I can shoot a bow with my eyes closed because I am so perfect. Please. He drops his left elbow every time he releases an arrow on a hard turn. He’s sloppy when he thinks no one is looking, and that arrogant little half-smile he does when he lands a hit? It looks like he swallowed a sour piece of fruit.”
You laughed, expecting the others to join in on the mockery, but you suddenly realized the riverbank had gone entirely quiet.
You blinked, popping a sweet berry into your mouth. “What? You all have gone silent. Nothing to say about that arrogant boy?”
Kar’ek looked at you like you had lost your mind. “What are you talking about, girl? He is valiant and a gentleman!”
“He is also not arrogant, Y/N,” Reti chimed in, pouting. “He is kind and humble. Just last moon, he helped me carry my heavy fiber bundles all the way to the weaving looms. And your brother helped Lekya!”
You grimaced, the berry suddenly tasting sour. “Show-offs. Both of them. You shouldn't have accepted their help. They only do it so everyone can look at them.”
Before Reti could snap a retort back, the crunch of leaves announced the arrival of a new group. You turned around and saw five young hunters strolling out from the thick foliage, laughing and shoving each other. At the front were your brother, Sak’nur and Neteyam. They had clearly just finished a grueling training session; their skin was glistening with sweat, and they carried themselves with the eager energy of boys ready to plunge into the cool river.
But the moment they stepped into the clearing, Neteyam’s golden eyes locked onto yours.
He raised a single, amused brow. You hadn't even realized you were doing it, but you were glaring at him with enough heat to burn through Hometree. You swiftly slid your gaze to your brother.
“What are you doing here, Sak’nur?” you demanded, your voice cutting through the peaceful atmosphere like a knife.
Your brother blinked, holding his hands out in confusion. “Uh... swimming?”
The other hunters laughed, instantly chiming in. They began boisterously greeting Lekya, Reti, and Kar’ek, completely unbothered by your hostile aura. Kar'ek offered them a witty greeting back, while your “friends” instantly smoothed their hair, their previous defense of Neteyam turning into shy, bright smiles as they began chatting with the boys.
Your sharp eyes found Neteyam again when he chuckled and saw that his eyes were on you, his tail flicking with pure amusement. He tilted his head, looking down at your stormy expression.
“And here I thought the river was supposed to be relaxing,” he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, teasing register meant just for you. “What’s with the scowl, sleepyhead?”
Truthfully, his heart swelled at the sight of you; he loved the fire in your eyes, and his teasing was born from a desperate desire to see you react to him, and only him. But to your ears, it was just another arrogant provocation from him, just like the many other times in the past.
The other hunters caught his words and burst into a loud, obnoxious laughter, with your brother shaking his head at your expense.
The hot flush of embarrassment crawled up your neck, painting your cheeks a deep, furious violet. Without thinking, your hand snapped down, grabbed a heavy, overripe fruit from the leaf platter, and hurled it directly at his chest.
The fruit exploded against his sternum, leaving a sticky, bright purple smear across his smooth skin.
The laughter died instantly. Sak’nur’s jaw dropped, and the rest of the boys froze in sheer shock. No one, absolutely no one, threw things at the future Olo'eyktan.
Neteyam blinked, looking down at the sludge dripping down his chest, and then looked back up at you. You lifted your chin to wait for his anger, already burning in anger, but as his eyes met yours, you saw no fury. Instead, his golden eyes danced with a dangerous, thrilled light. A slow, breathless smile parted his lips. He wasn't insulted at all. He looked utterly captivated.
You let out a sharp, furious hiss, unable to bear the heat of his gaze for another second. Scrambling to your feet, you turned on your heel and sprinted away into the safety of the forest, leaving the river, your friends, and his maddening smile far behind.
Later that night, you sat at your family’s table, just a few paces away from the Olo’eyktan’s family, as the clan hierarchy dictated. The orange glow of the central fire bathed the communal clearing with warmth and you know you would have loved it if you the Sully family’s table weren’t exactly on your line of the sight. Looking at the fire meant accidentally meeting Neteyam’s eyes, which is exactly what happened four times in a row already in the past few minutes.
Beside you, sat Sak’nur, eating heartily, though he occasionally cast a wary glance your way. The memory of the riverbank still plagued you. You didn’t feel sorry at all, but you do feel like you could have handled it better. There were too many witnesses to your volatile nature, what’s worse, it included your brother.
Just as your lips were pulling in a grimace, a movement drew your eye. A fighre stood up in the Sully table and began walking toward your family's area. Neteyam. You let out a deep breath off your nose, pretending to be busy with your food but when Sak’nur elbowed you, you were forced to look up.
As he approached, you noticed he was carrying a leaf square bowl. Inside was a freshly baked sweet-root pie, a delicacy usually reserved for special celebrations.
Your stomach dropped. No. Do not do this here.
“Greetings, sir,” Neteyam said smoothly, dipping his head in a respectful nod to your father before his eyes shifted down to you. The cocky, teasing hunter from the riverbank was gone, replaced by the perfect, dutiful Olo’eyktan to be.
Your father let out a booming laugh. “Neteyam! What is this for?” he asked, looking at the pie.
“I came to bring a peace offering,“ Neteyam answered seriously, his eyes on you.
Your father’s eyes darted between Neteyam and you, his forehead creasing. “A peace offering? For what?”
You took a sharp breath through your nose, your fingers clenching into the fabric of your loincloth. You absolutely hated having your father peek into your business, and you hated, absolutely detested, that Neteyam was staging this elaborate stunt right in front of your parents. You knew that he wasn't actually sorry, that this was a calculated humiliation, a way to trap you into accepting his apology because you wouldn't dare cause a scene in front of your father.
“It is between Y/N and I, sir, if you’ll excuse my refusal to divulge the matter,” Neteyam told him, his voice dripping with humility that you knew was entirely fabricated. He extended the bowl toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with deeply apologetic eyes. He was such a good actor.
Your father’s lips pushed forward, nodding at Neteyam as he shared a quiet laughter with your mother. “Alright, then. I guess this is one of your petty arguments again,“ he said, looking at you. “Daughter. You must remember: Not only is Neteyam much older than you for he is your older brother’s age, but you are also no longer a child.”
Your face burned with further humiliation. You cannot believe this. He has brought this upon you! Huffing a breath of pure fury through your nose, you forced your face into a tight, strained mask of a polite compliance.
You reached out and snatched the bowl from his hands. “Thank you, Neteyam. Your apology is accepted,” you said through gritted teeth.
“I am glad,” Neteyam murmured, a faint, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips telling you exactly how much he was enjoying your frustration. He bowed to your parents once more and walked away.
Stupid boy. Stupid, arrogant, obnoxious boy.
“What happened at the river?” Your father asked the moment Neteyam was out of earshot.
“Nothing, Father,” you lied smoothly, keeping your voice level. “Just a small... disagreement. It is resolved.”
But you made sure to make your true statement when the dinner ended. As your family stood up to leave, you deliberately left the leaf basket sitting squarely in the middle of the empty table, completely untouched.
From across the pavilion, Neteyam watched your retreating back, his eyes falling on the abandoned pie. A heavy sigh escaped him. He should have known a simple pastry wouldn't melt your ice.
Beside him, Lo’ak snickered. “What did you do this time?” he asked.
Neteyam’s jaw locked as his lips formed a thin line. “Said something about her scowl.”
Lo’ak stared at him for a moment before the boy doubled over in a fit of laughter. “Skxawng,“ he said. “Girls do not like hearing about their facial expressions! The same way they don’t like hearing comments about their hair, like your crime the last time!”
Neteyam’s forehead creased. “I told her the side part suited her best!”
“Which is implying that the previous look looked bad on her. It was also in the delivery, you know? I noticed you seem cocky when you talk to her.” Lo’ak’s eyes narrowed.
“What?” Neteyam asked, bewildered.
Lo’ak rolled his eyes. “Figure it out on your own, bro. You’re smart, it shouldn't be hard.”
His brother walked past, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Neteyam sighed heavily again. He felt as though the weight of Hometree was on his shoulder. He genuinely didn't know what to do with you anymore; you had always been aloof to him, so he tried talking to you and doing things for you, but you met that with coldness, and he lay awake at night wondering what he had done to deserve such an impenetrable wall.
The wall only grew taller during the training cycles. Neteyam tried to be helpful, but that only made your life miserable.
Whenever you practiced your marksmanship at the archery lines, he would happen to pass by and offer a quiet word of encouragement or adjust your stance. But you didn't want his help, especially because the other young huntresses were always watching.
“Look at her,” one of the older girls muttered from the drying racks, loud enough for the words to carry. “Must be nice being Sak’nur’s sister. Neteyam practically hands her the targets.”
“Exactly,” another chimed in, glaring at your back. “She only hits the bullseye because the future Olo'eyktan spends half his day fixing her form. If she didn't have them, she'd be nothing special.”
Hearing them credit all your hard work, your sweat, and your blistered fingers to the men in your life made your blood boil. You turned around to look at them, seeing their mocking expressions as they waited for what you’ll say or do.
“Does that make sense to your pea-sized brains?” you asked, smiling. “That I’m hitting all of those targets simply because someone is adjusting my form, or because I am someone’s sister?”
You nocked an arrow in your bow so fast you had already released it before they could even blink, hitting the feather hair ornament of the girl farthest from you. Your arrow pinned it squarely to the weapon rack behind her.
You tilted your head. “Did my brother fixed your ornament for you, Kur’na?”
A series of furious hisses echoed in the training grounds. “How dare you!” One of the older girls snarled.
They lunged at you, grabbing your braids and clawing at your skin. You fought back as ferociously as you could, grabbing braids, clawing, and punching. You heard heavy footsteps coming and suddenly, your feet are kicking in the air, even landing a hard kick on one of the girls.
You saw your brother and Lo’ak holding the girls back and bellowing for them to stop while you struggled against the strong arms wrapped around you. Your chest heaved as you breathe heavily, trying to calm yourself down.
“Y/N, what’s going on?” Sak’nur asked, his large steps eating up the space between you two.
Realizing who was holding you, you jerked back from the hold to stand on your feet properly. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?! You shot Kur’na!” One of the girls said.
“Where?” you asked.
“There!“ she pointed at the fiber pinned on the rack with an arrow.
“See, I couldn’t have done that. I don’t possess such a marksmanship without my brother or Neteyam fixing my targets for me...” you lied, pushing your lips forward. “So the truth is... You all attacked me senselessly.”
“I’ll have your father hear of this, Sak’nur,” Lo’ak told your brother, moving to walk away just as the girls gasped, fearing that your father, the Olo’eyktan’s second-in-command, would punish them for this.
“No need, Lo’ak,” you said, looking at the girls. “This was just a small training grounds disagreement. Nothing that we can work out among ourselves. Right?“
The girls exchanged tense glances, their expressions twisting into a mix of fear and fury, before they nodded, muttering their silent agreement.
You smiled, “Why don’t you take your break? You’ve been here since the first light.”
They looked absolutely furious, their ears flattened against their heads but they walked away anyway, the sheer humiliation radiating off them in waves. You watched them retreat, your expression completely blank until they were out of earshot. The adrenaline was finally leaving your system, leaving your skin stinging where they had clawed at you.
“What really happend?”
You turned to see Neteyam stepping up beside Sak’nur and Lo'ak. He was the one who had been holding you back, his hands still hovering near his sides as if he wanted to reach out again to check your injuries. His golden eyes swept over the scratches on your arms and neck, his brow furrowed in deep frustration.
“It’s seven against one, bro,” Lo'ak answered for you, crossing his arms. “Did you actually shoot Kur’na, though? If so, that’s insane. Right through the hair piece.”
“It doesn't matter,” Sak’nur growled, looking down at you with a heavy, protective frown. “You shouldn't have provoked them, Y/N. If we didn’t come—”
“I had it under control,” you interrupted, your voice dropping to a cold tone making all three of them pause.
You looked at Sak’nur before letting your gaze lock onto Neteyam. The anger that had been simmering under your skin since the drying racks finally boiled over.
“Listen to me,” you said, stepping back so you could look at them clearly. “Never meddle in my business again.”
Neteyam blinked, looking taken aback. “Y/N, we were just trying to—”
“I don't care what you were trying to do,” you snapped, gesturing sharply toward the targets behind you. “Every piece of gossip on these grounds is about how I am only here because of you and Sak’nur. Every bullseye I hit, every hour I spend sweating under the sun, they credit to my brother or the future Olo’eyktan. And your constant help just proves them right.”
You picked up your bow from the ground, dusting off the dirt with a fierce, rough motion.
“If I am going to fight my battles, I am going to fight them alone. If I get clawed, that's my problem. If I put an arrow through someone's hair, that's my problem too,” you said, your eyes flashing as you looked directly at Neteyam, then back to Sak’nur. “Stay out of it. I don't need you protecting me, and I certainly don't need you fixing my form anymore. Let me handle my own life.”
Without waiting for a reply, you slung your quiver over your shoulder and marched away, leaving the three young hunters standing in silence on the training grounds.
“That doesn’t include me, right?” Lo’ak asked, raising both his hands in the air.
Just like that, three years bled into the passage of time, and the world changed.
It was the night of the Great Feast, celebrating the debut of several young women into adulthood, the age where they were officially recognized as ready to choose a mate.
You were one of them.
The ceremonial paint was fresh on your skin, and the warrior class had taken notice. You were widely regarded as one of the most prized debutantes of the season; your coldness had transformed into an aura of regal elegance, and your legendary skill with a bow only made you more desirable.
Near the roasting pits, a group of older, seasoned hunters were drinking fermented fruit spirits, their voices rising over the music.
“The daughter of the second-in-command has grown into a fine huntress,” one of them remarked, a proud, older warrior. He took a heavy swig from his cup, a dark, possessive grin spreading across his face. “If it were me, she’d be popping out babies every season. A woman like that would breed nothing but strong warriors.”
The men laughed, taking that remark as nothing but a jest, but Neteyam had been standing a few paces away, speaking with your brother and their friends. Every muscle in his massive frame locked tight. The easy-going warrior vanished, replaced instantly by a primal, terrifying rage.
He turned slowly, his golden eyes blown wide, locked entirely on the man. “What did you just say?” Neteyam’s voice was dangerously low but it carried to the group of warriors neaby.
The hunter, older and arrogant, scoffed. He didn't care that Neteyam was the Olo’eyktan’s son. “I said what I said, boy. It is the way of things.”
“Watch your foul mouth before I clip your tongue,” Neteyam snapped back darkly, a lethal rumble vibrating in his chest.
The man sneered, stepping up to match the younger warrior’s height, to no avail. “Why don’t you come over here and say that to my face, boy?”
Neteyam’s fangs bared. “You think I won't?!”
Neteyam handed his bowl of fermented wine to a friend before his large steps ate the space between him and the man.
Every warrior in the Omatikaya was trained in hand-to-hand combat, but Neteyam had been forged by Jake Sully himself. He was broader, taller, and infinitely faster. He had allowed the hunter a single punch before he slammed him into the dirt, his fists flying in a brutal, blinding blur, coming down smash after smash against the warrior’s face
Warriors rushed forward, their deep voices taking the attention of everyone that the drums stopped its rhythm. It took five grown men to finally throw their arms around Neteyam and pull him off. His chest was heaving, his skin slick with sweat and the blood of the man beneath him. But the moment the man tried to stumble to his feet to walk away, Neteyam violently threw the warriors off him, snarling as he lunged forward a second time, entirely unhinged by a rage no one had ever seen in him before.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Mo’at shouted, rushing into the clearing as the chaos finally settled. “Why are you fighting at a sacred feast?!”
Neteyam violently shrugged the remaining hands off his shoulders, his breathing ragged as he pointed a trembling, bloody finger toward the hunter. “He disrespected Y/N!” he roared, his voice echoing across the entire clearing.
A few paces away, completely clueless to the context, you stopped mid-sip, holding your cup to your lips as you blinked. Me...?
Your father, who had watched the entire sequence from where he’s talking with Jake, narrowed his eyes to slits. He had always suspected Neteyam held a certain fondness for you, but this? This was a declaration to evey young man in the clan, as if the years of protecting your name and being protective of you weren’t enough.
Neteyam aggressively wiped a streak of blood from his split lip with the back of his hand, completely uncaring of the stunned stares of the entire clan. You set your cup down and marched straight up to him when you saw him turn around to leave, your face a storm of confusion and irritation.
“What did you do?” you demanded, but your voice didn’t carry the edge it usually would.
Neteyam blinked, surprised by your sudden proximity. Slowly, the fury in his face began to melt, his shoulders dropping slightly as he looked down at you. “He... he was speaking inappropriately about you.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Like how?”
“I refuse to repeat it,” he muttered, suddenly looking like a guilty child being chastised for using foul language.
“Like how, Neteyam?” you repeated, your voice soft, a tone he’d never heard from you before.
He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I do not want to repeat it, and I won’t. I am still seeing red, Y/N. If you make me repeat the words that came out of his mouth, I will go back over there, and I might actually tear him apart.”
You pursed your lips, studying the tight, rigid lines of his jaw. He looked genuinely sickened by whatever had been said. “It was that bad?”
He didn't answer, but his hard, pained expression spoke volumes. You looked at his split, bleeding lip, and then down at his knuckles, which were scraped raw and marred with crimson.
You let out a soft, defeated sigh. “I will go get herbs and a poultice for that,” you muttered, turning to leave.
“No need,” he said quickly, his voice rough. “I didn't do that so you would feel indebted to me.”
You rolled your eyes, turning back and grabbing him by the wrist. The sudden touch made him gasp softly. “I didn't even think that,” you said, pulling him out of the bright clearing and leading him onto a massive, quiet branch away from the pavilion lights. “Get some fresh air and reflect on what you just did.” You widened your eyes at him in a stern warning before walking away for the healing pavilion.
Neteyam stood on the darkened branch, watching your retreating form. He bit the inner flesh of his lower lip, desperately trying, and failing, to suppress the massive, foolish smile threatening to break across his face.
Minutes later, the soft patter of footsteps signaled your return. You carried two small clay jars filled with soothing green paste and woven cloths.
“Did you reflect?” you asked, stepping up to him.
He grimaced, his features twisting in a way that instantly reminded you of the young boy who hated sour fruit he would grimace every time he sees it. “I reflected,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And I think I would do it again if I could. With increasing pleasure every time.”
You shook your head, a faint huff of humor escaping you as you patted the bark of the branch. “You are stupid.”
“I suppose so...” he whispered. He lowered himself to sit on the branch, his eyes locking onto your face. Under the faint warm glow of the large fire inside, you looked so breathtakingly beautiful it made his chest ache.
You knelt before him, dipping your fingers into the cool healing paste. You gently brought your hand to his mouth, dabbing the medicine onto his split lip. “First time you have ever admitted it,” you murmured, raising a brow as your eyes snapped up to meet his. “Finally humble. I like that.”
“Yeah?” he asked, a dangerous, thrilling spark suddenly igniting in the depths of his eyes.
Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his gaze. You quickly recovered, “Only if you are truly humble. But you are not. You are arrogant and obnoxious.”
“Things can be changed,” he smirked, only to instantly hiss as the movement stretched the cut.
“See? Even your wound disagrees with you,” you teased, a genuine smirk playing on your own lips.
“I am saying—”
“Shh,” you interrupted, placing a gentle finger over his good lip.
Neteyam immediately clamped his mouth shut. He didn't say another word, completely content to just sit there, breathing in your scent, paralyzed by the gentle touch of your hands as you began wrapping his raw knuckles with the soft woven cloth. He held his hand perfectly still, refusing to move a single finger, treating your handiwork as if it were the most precious gift from Eywa herself.
A long, comfortable silence settled over the branch, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the music from the festival.
“You are a debutante now...” Neteyam said softly, breaking the quiet.
Your forehead creased in amusement, and a small, rare chuckle escaped your lips. “Uh, yeah? That was what the entire ceremony was about.”
Neteyam blinked in utter surprise, his heart skipping a beat. He stared at you, momentarily speechless. You laughed. You actually chuckled in his presence. It was a historic first.
Clearing his throat to find his voice, he leaned in just a fraction closer. “Have you... thought of suitors? Of mates?”
The lightheartedness instantly vanished from your face, replaced by a deep scowl. “Among the men of this clan?” you asked, shaking your head as you tied off the bandage. “No, thank you. Which is the better choice anyway? All of you get on my nerves.”
You stood up, picking up the empty clay jars and looking down at him one last time.
“I am bringing these back to the pavilion. Try counting to a hundred before you do something stupid again.”
You turned and walked back to the direction of the healing pavillion, your heart hammering against your ribs in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the physical fight you had just witnessed. Neteyam was left sitting alone on the branch, his bandaged hand pressed gently against his chest as he watched you go, his eyes filled with an undeniable, burning yearning.
You like no one in the clan. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face. That was perfect. He could definitely work with that.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The council’s midday gathering at the longhouse carried the scent of leaf tea and crushed sweet grass. Inside, the sunlight dripping through the woven room flickering shadows over the faces of the elders, Jake Sully, Neytiri, and your father, who sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze steady.
Neteyam stood at the center of the room. At twenty one, he had completely grown into the man everyone knew he would be. Taller than most, broad-shouldered, and carries the undeniable, commanding presence of a future leader. But today, his jaw was clamped shut in a tight, defensive line.
The topic on the floor was one he had been dodging for years: his future mating with the daughter of the Anurai clan’s Olo'eyktan. An alliance meant to solidify the bonds between their people.
“Delay this until when, Neteyam?” Elder Katu asked, his weathered voice echoing off the woven walls. “You are twenty-one. You are of age, and the clan looks to its future.”
“Elder Katu, if you should be reminded, my grandfather mated late, too,” Neteyam reasoned smoothly, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “He was forty-three then. He and my grandmother were way past the age of when they first came to adulthood.”
“Are you saying that you want to make Ateya of the Anurai wait that long?” Another elder countered.
“No, I am not saying she should wait at all,” Neteyam replied, his tone firm, yet unyielding. “I am saying I do not want to mate this young. I want to further my training and my diplomatic skills before I settle down. I will be the one mating, this would be for life, and I believe this part of my life should be my call.”
Jake Sully watched his son with a mixture of pride and suspicion, but it was your father whose sharp eyes never left Neteyam’s face. He noticed the slight, restless flick of Neteyam’s tail. He knew the young warrior was a master of discipline, so why was he fighting this alliance so fiercely?
The answer arrived with a soft rustle of the entrance flap.
You stepped into the longhouse with your chin held high, your expression a perfectly crafted mask of a huntress known for her sharp tongue. You had been tasked with delivering the recent patrol briefing to Sa’rin, an elder female warrior sitting near the back.
“I cannot be a good mate if I—”
Neteyam’s head snapping toward the movement at the threshold was entirely instinctual, but when he saw the distinct, bright feathers of your long braids, he did a complete double-take, his golden eyes locking onto your form, his breath hitching just enough that his posture faltered.
“...am not ready...” He trailed as his eyes tracked the fluid, elegant movement of your stride.
You didn’t even look at him, your eyes were trained forward until you reached Sa’rin, whispering to her animatedly. None of the older elders noticed the sudden lapse in Neteyam’s always perfect composure, not even Jake and Neytiri who were too focused on what he was saying.
But your father saw it.
His eyes narrowed into assessing slits, watching Neteyam’s chest rise and fall heavily as the young man desperately tried to refocus on the conversation. It was all the confirmation he needed. Neteyam sees you more than he ought to.
“It is a perfect match, Neteyam, if only you would open your eyes to see. It is known that Ateya is a competent huntress at her age, and a great weaver as well,” one of the elder said, shaking his head.
For the first time, your eyes snapped to the gathered council, your ears twitching at what you heard. Unfortunately, Neteyam has already tore his eyes off of you, or he would have seen the way your face crumpled in what your father perceived as a distaste.
When the elders finally dismissed Neteyam with a warning to think deeply on his duties, the young warrior let out a long, ragged breath as he walked out into the sunlight. He knew everything he had just said to the council was utter bullshit. He was ready for leadership, ready for a mate, ready for the future... but only if that future was you. He would delay every alliance, fight every elder, and play the patient hunter until he finally got you.
But he doesn’t know how to get you.
In the past years, the air between you two had been significantly better than it used to be, but that was because he heeded what you said about not meddling in your business. He still tried to sneak in help every now and then, but not so much so as to piss you off.
He would hate to wake up the palulukan in you, so to speak.
Your father quietly watched him walk away before transferring his gaze to you once Neteyam was out of sight. Sa’rin was speaking, but you kept glancing at the entryway, your tail moving in agitated flicks behind you. He knew you. He knew that for all the ice and bitter fire you hurled at Neteyam, you were masking something deeper, far more profound. And Neteyam has never really tried to hide what he has for you. People are just really imperceptive.
You two needed a push.
The push came in the form of being assigned to the same hunting pack as each other. You didn’t think much of it, after all, Neteyam is one of the high-ranking hunters of the clan and you knew your rotation would have put you under him one way or another. As usual, you were out before sunrise, while the jungle was still choked with heavy, clinging mist.
This was simply a mid-sized hunting pack, with Neteyam leading the routine sweep of the southern borders. Your brother was currently leading the border patrol, which left you entirely under Neteyam’s command. You kept your distance during the initial trek, silent but cautious of your surroundings.
But Neteyam wouldn’t really be Neteyam if he didn’t know exactly where you were at any moment in time.
When the pack finally halted on a higher valley, Neteyam gathered the hunters. He moved with an easy, terrifyingly efficient confidence, mapping out the flanking routes with quick gestures of his large hands. As the other hunters dispersed to take their positions, you turned to slip toward the western ridge.
“Not so fast,” Neteyam’s voice cut through the air, smooth and low. He stepped into your path, his towering frame blocking the narrow trail. A slow, familiar smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head. “The western ridge is steep, and the morning dew has made the forest floor slick. We’ll take the east.”
You stopped and turned to him. “Whatt’s going on? Afraid of a little slip?” you asked. “I am taking the western flank. I have a cleaner angle, and I do not need a guide.”
Neteyam let out a low huff of laughter, stepping just an inch closer. The heat radiating off his chest was palpable in the cool morning air. He raised a single, amused eyebrow. “Prickly in the morning? I am not offering to guide you. I am telling you where the pack needs you. But if you really think I’m so afraid of a little slippery moss, you should hold my hand.”
Two years ago, your blood would have boiled. You would have hissed, thrown a cutting insult about his ego, and marched off in a fury.
But today? As your eyes locked onto his, tracking the dangerous, playful spark in his golden gaze and the infuriatingly curve of his smirk, your heart gave a sudden, treacherous thud against your ribs. The annoyance you usually relied on as a shield felt flimsy, dissolving into a strange, dizzying warmth.
You didn’t know where it began, but you no longer hate his arrogance. In fact, you realized with a sudden jolt of panic that you were entirely captivated by it.
“I think you can handle the moss perfectly fine, Neteyam," you countered, your voice clipped, though you couldn't quite stop the subtle twitch of your own lips. “Try not to get distracted out there. I would hate for my arrows to do all the work for your pack.”
“I'll try my best to keep up...” he murmured, his voice dropping into that deep, private register that always seemed reserved exclusively for you.
He gave you one last, lingering look before turning to leap into the upper ground with effortless grace. You stood frozen for a second, catching your breath, before fiercely shaking your head. Get it together, you scolded yourself, though the flush on your neck had nothing to do with the physical exertion of the hunt.
He turned to you again, offering a hand. You scoffed, ignoring his hand and leaping on the higher ground yourself. The hunt went flawlessly with three clean kills, but the tension between the two of you only tightened during the trek back.
The pack stopped by a shallow stream to wash the sweat and dirt from their skin. You sat slightly apart from the group on a fallen log, running a whetstone down the edge of your hunting knife when a few paces away, you saw Ley’a, a huntress your age, approached Neteyam. Neteyam, being the dutiful and polite warrior that he was, leaned down slightly to listen, speaking to her with that effortless, smooth charm that came naturally to him.
You saw him smiled, gesturing toward the canopy as if he was explaining something.
You didn't even realize you were staring until the stone slipped against your blade with a sharp, harsh screech. You swallowed and aggressively rolled your eyes, your lips in a thin line as something hot and ugly twisted sharply in your gut. You didn't understand why it was there, but it blinded you.
When the trek resumed again, you walked ahead of everyone, your pace faster than usual and your chin tilted high. Your sharp eyes snapped to your side when you heard footsteps coming, and your brows furrowed immediately when you saw Neteyam’s smirk.
“Are you upset about something?” he asked, matching your pace effortlessly, his strides sure and confident.
You didn’t answer. You wanted to be left alone with your thoughts, but here he is again, taunting words out of you.
“You walk fast when you’re upset.” he added.
You finally turned to him, your eyes narrowed and before your mind could stop your tongue, you spoke, “You speak quite smoothly to girls for a man who is practically spoken for, Neteyam,” you said, your tone dripping with a cold, sarcastic bite.
He looked surprise for a moment, but the smirk returned to his face, though his eyes narrowed with a sudden, intense curiosity. “And what is that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“I am merely wondering what Ateya of the Anurai would say about it,” you scoffed. “Her future mate being a certified womanizer, smooth-talking and flashing his smiles at every huntress. Personally, I would hate to have such a weak-willed mate.”
Neteyam’s lips parted, lagging behind for a fraction of a minute, watching your large steps put a distance between you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he walked after you, his stride purposeful. You looked at him, somehow you’re bothered that he might be angry about what you said, but he didn't look angry; he looked absolutely thrilled by your bite, his cocky persona flaring to life.
“A womanizer?” Neteyam whispered, walking right beside you and leaning down slightly so his face was level with yours. “What are you talking about, smooth-talking and flasing smiles at every huntress?” he asked, his hand itching to touch your forearm but he balled it into a fist.
You didn’t respond, you just continued walking and he kept matching your pace.
“Was it about Ley’a earlier?” he mumbled, his voice so quiet and intimate that it brought heat to your face. “I was just answering a question about a tracking trail,” he explained, his steps growing larger. He walked backward so he could look at you better, his head tilting at the silent ire on your face. “Do you care who I smile at, Y/N?”
Your face crumpled and he chuckled, “I do not care at all,” you snapped back quickly, your chest heaving as you glared up at him. “I am simply making an observation on your character. Or lack thereof.”
“Right. An observation,” he repeated as he raised a brow, his face so light and vibrant you could see the way his pupils were dilating. “Because for someone who claims to find me so arrogant and obnoxious, you seem to spend a remarkable amount of time keeping track of my betrothal status. Should I tell my father to cancel the council meetings, then? Since my future seems to weigh so heavily on your mind?”
Your face burned a deep, furious violet. You stopped abruptly, nearly knocking your shoulder into his chest as you pushed past him.
“Do whatever you want, Neteyam,” you hissed under your breath before marching ahead. “You are entirely insufferable.”
Neteyam didn't follow you right away, he stood by the stream and watched your rigid, angry retreat with a heavy, breathless exhale. His hand traced his jawline, a slow, triumphant grin spreading across his face as his tail flicked lazily behind him.
You looked jealous, absolutely furious, and you seemed very bothered by his betrothal status. He didn’t want to rejoice in the knowledge that you were upset about it, but he couldn’t help it. The heavy weight of the council’s impending arrangements suddenly felt a little lighter. He had a foothold now. And he wasn't going to let it go.
The days following the hunt felt entirely different. The invisible wall you had spent years building was actively crumbling, and the worst part was that you were no longer trying to patch it up.
Neteyam had taken what happened and run with it, his pursuit turning into a relentless, everyday occurrence. He seemed to possess an infuriating ability to materialize out of thin air whenever you were alone.
One afternoon, you were high up in the middle branches of Hometree, sitting on a secluded edge to practice your weaving skills on soft strips of fabric. Your fingers felt thick and clumsy as you tried to lace the soft strips together. You are useless in this for you had never really taken an interest in the domestic arts.
But now... You thought weaving would be a great skill to add to your repertoire.
It’s proving to be a great challenge, though, and staring at the frayed, knotted mess in your lap, you wanted to yank your own braids out for your sudden stupidity. Why had you never thought of ever learning this before? How are you supposed to even weave a loincloth for your future children if you cannot even cross two threads? A scowl deepened on your face.
The thought that you were thinking of children tore through your trance as a sudden, unauthorized image of a child with very familiar features came into your mind. You gasped sharply, your face burning a violent purple.
With a frustrated groan, you balled up the tangled mess of fabrics and threw it violently across the ledge. “Useless,” you hissed to the empty air.
“What is it that you’re upset about now?”
You nearly jumped out of your skin.
Neteyam dropped gracefully from the thick branch above, landing silently on the ledge just a few feet away. He was leaning against the bark, his arms crossed over his chest, a wildly amused smirk playing on his lips. He had a way of appearing out of nowhere lately. At the river, near your training lanes, and now in your private sanctuary.
Your mask snapped back into place, though your heart was hammering against your ribs. “Do you make a habit of stalking me, Neteyam, or do you simply have nothing better to do with your time?”
His lips twisted. “I was actually on my way to the training grounds,” he lied smoothly, taking a slow, confident step closer. His eyes dropped to the tangled ball of fabric on the ledge, and then drifted back up to your flushed face. “But then I saw the fiercest huntress I know fighting a losing battle against some fabrics. I couldn't just walk away.”
“I am not fighting it,” you retorted.
“Right. You're just glaring at it until it weaves itself,” he teased, his voice dropping into that low, rumbling register. He walked over, picking up the discarded bundle. With agonizing slowness, his hands began to effortlessly untangle the knots you had spent an hour making. “You have too much tension in your hands, holding it like a throat you want to crush.”
You watched his fingers move. They were calloused from weapons, larger than yours, yet they handled the delicate threads with a startling, gentle precision. A strange warmth settled deep in your stomach. You were too hyper-aware of how close he was, of the scent of mint and rain on his skin, and the effortless way he commanded your space.
“There...” he mumbled, showing you a perfect line of two woven strips.
You glanced at him through the fringe of your lashes, seeing the small smile on his face. A faint shadow of fear bloomed in your chest and you looked down, “Where did you learn?”
“My mother,” he answered, glancing up at you with a bright smile before he looked back down on his work. “Well, sort of. She’d always tell us to be responsible of our own clothes if it gets a hole or a tear.”
“I didn’t know that...” you mumbled.
He smirked, but somehow it looked less cocky and more... wistful. “The same way I know you can’t weave.”
Your forehead creased. “How’d you know?” you asked, glaring at him but you both know it held nothing bad.
“I pay attention,” he shrugged. “Why are you suddenly taking an interest in this?”
You took the strips from him, your eyes playfully narrowed. “I thought you know things from observing?”
“I guess I'll need to observe more when you weave... So, I can form a guess,” he said.
You pushed your lips forward, wrapping the strips he made on your wrist. “I suck at this. There's no next time.”
“You don’t really need to learn weaving if you don’t want to, you know...” he said, sitting on the branch comfortably.
You thought of the Anurai... About how they are meticulous artisans and how some of the clan’s best tapestries used for certain ceremonies are their handiwork. You didn’t even know you were scowling at your own thoughts, and once again, before you could think properly, you spoke.
“Easy for you to say as someone who would be mating an Anurai,” you said in a clipped tone, gathering your stuff and standing up to leave him there.
His jaw dropped, watching your form retreat and jump a branch down. “What...?” he whispered in the air.
You kept climbing down, the soft soles of your feet gripping the bark as you practically fled from the raw confusion on his face. The weight of your irrational feelings and thoughts were a heavy, suffocating thing and it followed you for days.
You were down by the rivers, tucked away in the humid shade of the trees for another one of your group’s picnics. Over the past years, you had actually grown genuinely close to Lekya, Reti, and Kar’ek. They had ceased to be just annoying people tailing you around, they were now your good friends.
While the three of them babbled animatedly about the latest gossips, you were hunched over, your forehead creased in absolute, soul-crushing concentration. You were trying to recreate the exact interlocking loop Neteyam had shown you on the branch. Your tongue peeked out between your teeth as you fought a thick strand of reed.
“I am just saying,” Reti sighed, leaning back on a woven mat and fanning herself, “if Mar’tu looks at me like that during the next illumination feast, I might just have to let him carry my baskets. He has those shoulders, you know?”
“Oh, please,” Lekya scoffed, tossing a seed at her. “Mar’tu trips over his own feet. If you want shoulders, you look at the patrol leaders.”
Reti sighed, “And what do the patrol leaders even like? They won’t like someone like me. I’m a weaver, Lekya, for freak’s sake. If a mere hunter likes me, I can’t be choosey.”
You pushed your lips forward and glanced up at her, your forehead creased, “Rita. Don’t speak of yourself that way,” you reprimanded. “You’re an excellent weaver. Look at me, I can’t even weave to save my life.” You showed her your botched work. “Who cares about whether warriors and hunters like any of us? They are idiots.”
They bursted out laughing. “Well, I supposed we’ll take it from you. You’re the huntress,” Reti grinned.
“You never grew out of your annoyance for them,” Lekya said. “Where will you find romance if you don’t like any of them?”
You scowled and they laughed harder.
“Well, some of us don't have to look far for romance,” Kar’ek chimed in, leaning forward with a wicked grin. He was lounging on a pile of soft moss, his fingers idly twirling a blade of grass. “Some of us are having secret midnight swims by the eastern pools with a certain hunter whose name rhymes with Zdin’rey.”
Lekya and Reti gasped in unison, leaning in. “Kar’ek! You didn't!”
“But I did,” Kar’ek purred, tossing his braids over his shoulder. “And honey, it was mmaculate!”
Lekya pouted, “Weren’t you with Nakvu last moon?”
Kar’ek snorted, “Well, I realized, I can just take, and take, and take. There are plenty of choices and we must always test the auditonees.”
You chuckled and Kar’ek’s attention pinned on you. He shifted on the grass, grabbing a piece of pie and popping it into his mouth.
“Enough about my scandalous exploits. What about our resident huntress?”
Another two pairs of eyes suddenly locked onto you. You kept your gaze glued to your terrible weaving, though.
“What about me?” you asked coldly, trying to sound aloof.
“You are of age, Y/N. A fully decorated debutante,” Kar’ek pointed out.
Lekya nodded at you, “The warriors practically fall over their own feet trying to offer you meat at the communal fires, and you look at them like they are pile of viperwolf dung.”
“Maybe because they are annoying,” you muttered, shoving a fiber under another.
“Okay, true for some,” Lekya agreed. “But what about Tayrel? He’s still single. Or maybe someone from the older batches? What about Janu?”
Before you could voice your disgust, Kar’ek let out a loud, dramatic groan, slapping his forehead with a broad leaf. “Oh, by Eywa's grace, stop it! Please! You two are giving me a headache with these horrific suggestions.” He sat up, glaring at Lekya and Reti like they had lost their minds. “Why are you two suggesting so many names when there is a very obvious one right in front of her face?”
Your glanced up at him with furrowed brows, accidentally bending a fiber completely out of shape. “My face?”
Kar’ek rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. “Girl, you’re blind,” he said before leaning in. “Neteyam!” he whisper-shouted.
“Oh...” Lekya’s face brightened. “But he’s... I mean, the council—”
“The council can eat dirt,” Kar’ek interrupted shamelessly, waving his hand dismissively. He turned his full attention to you, his eyes glittering with pure gossip-fueled joy. “Y/N, darling, look at me. Put that plant down.”
You slowly raised your head, keeping your face as blank as possible, though your ears were burning hot against your hair. “Neteyam is my brother's best friend. He is an extension of my family.”
“Honey, if my brother’s friend looked at me the way Neteyam looks at you, I would be pregnant by the next eclipse,” Kar’ek said flatly.
“Kar'ek!” you hissed, your face flushing a violent violet.
“I am serious!” Kar’ek leaned in, his voice dropping into an intense, dramatic whisper. “I am an observer of men, Y/N. It is my spiritual calling. And I am telling you, he is crazy about you. Utterly ruined by you.”
You shook your head, “You are crazy. That’s not possible,” you said. “He teases everyone."
“Oh, please. Remember when you accidentally dropped your dagger into the communal fire? Who burned his hand pulling it out before the blade gets ruined? Neteyam. And what about the time during the rainy season when your kelku’s roof had that massive tear? Your father was away on clan business and your brother on patrol, and suddenly Neteyam shows up with three layers of fresh thatch, claiming they ‘had extra’ and he just happened to be passing by. He spent four hours in a downpour fixing it, looking like a drowned, miserable banshee, just so you wouldn't get cold!”
“Shut up, Kar'ek,” you mumbled, your voice entirely stripped of its usual icy armor. You stared down at the messy, tangled weaving in your lap, knowing that the flutter in your chest wasn't from anger or defense.
“Oh, I am not shutting up, because you need to hear the rest of this,” Kar’ek insisted, practically vibrating with excitement as he leaned even closer, gesturing wildly with his hands. xLekya, Reti, back me up on this. We are making a list because this girl is living in a complete state of delusion.”
“Alright,” Reti agreed instantly, abandoning her fern leaf. “I remember that time when your mount got that nasty deep scratch from a nightwraith attack during patrol and he stayed up for two full nights helping you by gathering the herbs in the high cliffs, grinding the soothing paste and applying it on your ikran? At least, the healers got their sleep, but Neteyam definitely didn’t.”
Your lips twisted when you remembered. You were so scared for your ikran then, panicking and crying, but he took care of everything. He didn’t even like herbs, you thought. Nobody likes herbs but the healers... But he still took care of it.
“And he beat Kutri into a pulp at the Great Feast because of you,” Lekya said with a dreamy look on her face.
“Exactly!” Kar’ek clapped his hands together triumphantly. “The man is the future leader of our people, completely disciplined and perfect, until someone breathes too loud in your direction.”
You huffed a breath through your nose. Your chest was heaving, your skin tingling with a sudden, overwhelming rush of warmth. Kar’ek’s words were too overwhelming, painting a picture you had spent years denying. Neteyam... likes you. No, according to Kar’ek, he was entirely consumed by you.
“You have him on a leash, Y/N. You just refuse to pull it,” Kar’ek added, leaning back with a smug grin.
At the same time, Neteyam was standing in the heavy atmosphere of the council as the elders discussed how to maintain the strategic alliance with the Aranahe clan, casually receiving strays from elders who couldn’t undetermined his decision.
“The Aranahe look to solidify our treaties,” one of the senior elders spoke up, leaning forward. “Their Olo'eyktan has always expressed a desire for a match. Ateya isn’t his only child. His eldest son, a fierce hunter, is also open to find a mate from our finest bloodlines.”
Jake Sully sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “My daughter, Kiri, has no mind for things like this, Elder.”
“It needed not be Kiri, Jake,” the elder replied smoothly. He turned his gaze slowly across the circle, letting it rest squarely on your father. “Levakan... your daughter, Y/N. She has just come of age. She is fit to be paired with an Olo'eyktan’s heir. Proud, brave, beautiful, and strong.”
Across the room, Neteyam froze.
Every ounce of air left his lungs. His ears instantly pinned back flat against his head, his tail lashing behind him with a sudden, violent twitch. His golden eyes locked onto the elder with a glare so fiercely lethal it could have pierced through armor. How dare he suggest handing you over to an outsider?
Neteyam’s eyes flew to your father, his heart hammering in a frantic, terrifying panic. He waited for Levakan to refuse. He waited for him to protect his daughter from being shipped off to another clan.
Instead, your father remained perfectly calm. He tilted his head, pretending to weigh the option with a thoughtful expression.
“My daughter is dutiful, Elder,” your father said, his voice loud and clear. “She understands the weight of our family’s standing. I will talk to her and see what I can do, if she is open to it.”
Neteyam’s face completely crumpled, a suffocating pain twisting in his chest. His fist clenched so hard his wrapped knuckles turned white.
If she is open to it.
Neteyam remembered the night on the branch, your soft laughter, and the way you had scowled and said you liked none of the men in this clan because they all got on your nerves. A sickening wave of dread washed over him. If you hated all the boys here... that would mean you were open to choosing a man from the outside?
From across the fire, Levakan caught the look of utter, desperate panic written across Neteyam’s face. Your father hid a satisfied smirk behind his cup, knowing the game had officially begun, and Neteyam finally knew he couldn't afford to wait in the shadows any longer.
It’s not like both of you ever asked for a sign from Eywa, but the Great Mother still found it in herself to deliver an entire diplomatic circus to make both of your lives miserable. The Aranahe clan will be making a clan visit for the upcoming feast and the looming threat of the council’s political matchmaking bothered you both endlessly.
For you, the distress manifested as a tight, biting irritation. Every time someone mentioned Ateya’s name, your stomach twisted with something sharp and ugly. For Neteyam, it was a quiet, frantic desperation. He spent days trying to sense if your father had already presented the elder's suggestion about Tuvek, the Aranahe Olo’eyktan's firstborn son, to you, and more terrifyingly, if you actually thought it was a good idea.
When he caught you alone near the ikran ledges one afternoon, he looked entirely too relaxed for someone whose life was being rearranged by a council of old men. You were violently untangling a leather riding strap, your ears pinned back, when a shadow fell over you.
“Careful,” Neteyam’s voice purred. He was leaning casually against a pillar, one ankle crossed over the other, a lazy, infuriatingly handsome smirk playing on his lips. “You keep yanking it like that and you'll snap the hide. Though, I suppose it's impressive how much anger you can pack into such small hands.”
You snapped a sharp gaze on him. He looked like he is sleeping well, even more, like he was having the best days of his life anticipating the Aranahe. Your fingers aggressively knotted the leather, “Go away.”
He didn't take the hint, stepping right into your space until the heat of his chest was brushing your shoulder. He tilted his head, his golden eyes dancing with that familiar, cocky light. “I notice the second-in-command looking like he is in a very good mood these days, almost as if he is as waiting for a huge celebration. Care to share what it is about, sleepyhead?”
The strap snapped in your hands with a sharp crack.
Your head whipped around, your chest heaving with all the suffocating anxiety you’d been drowning in for days. “Perhaps it’s about your mating with Ateya of the Aranahe. Who knows? We could be celebrating that in time with the feast.”
Neteyam’s smirk faltered for a fraction, his eyes narrowing in surprise at the sheer venom in your voice, but he recovered quickly, raising an amused brow. This again. If you didn’t look so mad, he’d think you want to cry.
“Let me worry about that,“ he said, waiting for another reaction.
Which he got when you glared up at him with yours eyes blazing. “Right. So stop asking me about my father when you could ask my brother about whatever. Worry about your own looming bond. Go flash your perfect smiles at Ateya once she arrives, and figure out how to be a dutiful mate to the Aranahe, since you're so excellent at playing the perfect future chief!“
You didn't wait for his response. You turned on your heel and stormed off down the path, your tail lashing violently behind you.
Behind you, Neteyam stood frozen, the broken strap clutched in his hand. The cocky smirk completely vanished from his face. He wanted a reaction, yes, but Great Mother, he only made you angrier than you already were.
Then, the night of the feast arrived.
The central clearing was ablaze with a roaring fire, but to you, the atmosphere felt cold. The Aranahe Olo’eyktan, his mate, and his two children were seated at the high dais alongside Jake and his family. Ateya was intentionally placed right next to Neteyam. From your seat at your family’s own dais, you couldn't even swallow your food. Every time Ateya leaned in to whisper something to him, every time Neteyam offered her a smile, the food in your mouth tasted like ash.
You hated what you were feeling. You wished with everything in you that you could go back to how things used to be, back when you could pretend you were just annoyed by him. But as you watched them, you were confronted with a bitter truth. There was never a time you didn't care. You had always noticed him. For years, you had stubbornly pretended you didn't understand why he did things for you.
Why he would risk to burn his hand to get you your favorite dagger, why he would get out of his way to help you even when you never been kind to him. You had been selfish, rude, and mean, using your sharp tongue as a shield. Looking at Ateya, someone sweet, gentle, and flawlessly poise, you felt a sinking, hollow ache in your chest. She is exactly the kind of woman he deserves.
When the dinner concluded, one of the senior elders brought you over to introduce you to Tuvek. Although you were in no mood for pleasantries, your own courtesy forced you to stay. When Tuvek politely asked about the fermented fruit wine, you forced your voice into a steady rhythm, spending nearly half an hour conversing with him about the local beverages, the traditional food, and the story of the tribe dances.
Yet, your eyes were constantly drifting back across the clearing, tracking Neteyam. You felt two feet small, as if you had been completely skinned and left exposed to the cold wind.
“The steps to the third dance are actually quite complex,” Tuvek was saying, leaning a fraction closer, his eyes fixed intently on your face. “I would be honored if you showed me the footwork, once it comes again, Y/N. A huntress of your skill must move beautifully on the mats.”
“She moves beautifully, alright,” A low, smooth purr chimed in and you nearly jumped out of your skin.
You turned to hjm with a sharp glare, your eyes tracking Ateya a few paces away, standing alone in the crowd; but when she saw you glance at her, she started moving. You snapped your gaze back to Neteyam and saw him flashing a sharp, dazzling smile at Tuvek, though his golden eyes remained completely cold, tracking the man like a target.
“Assuming you don't mind getting your toes flattened. Our fiercest huntress tends to dance exactly how she hunts. Zero mercy and absolutely no regard for those trying to keep up with her.”
Your jaw nearly dropped. You snapped your gaze to him, your ears pinning back instantly. You were just about to hiss a lethal retort when a soft, melodic voice cut through the tension.
“There you are, Neteyam,” Ateya said, smoothly gliding into the circle. She offered a polite nod to you and Tuvek. “You disappeared so suddenly. I was worried you had grown bored of my company, but I am glad you’ve already introduced yourself to my brother.”
Neteyam smiled at her, “Of course, Ateya.”
You felt a sharp, ugly coil in your chest, but you quickly masked it when Ateya glances at you.
She looked at Neteyam again. “Though, I wonder if it would be rude if I steal you away for a more private conversation,” she said.
A sweet smile cut across your face as you turned your full attention to Ateya, completely ignoring Neteyam as if he were nothing more than an inconveniently placed rock.
“Oh, do not worry, Ateya,” you said. “Neteyam is simply doing what he does best: inserting himself where he isn't invited. He is very eager to come with you.”
You pushed him subtly. Tuvek blinked, looking between you two, while Ateya’s brow furrowed in mild confusion. Neteyam, however, didn't look offended at all. Instead, his smirk widened, his golden eyes dancing with absolute delight as he leaned closer to you.
“Is that what I'm doing?” Neteyam asked, his tone laced with a lazy, teasing challenge. “I thought I was just protecting our esteemed guest from a dangerous dance partner.”
“Oh, please. The only danger here is your terrible habit of sleepwalking,” you said, turning to Ateya. “You must be patient with him, that habit could triggered by too much wine. Just last moon, his family had to drag him back because he tried to climb down the Hometree in his sleep, said he was chasing a viperwolf.”
Tuvek chuckled, thoroughly baffled by the image of the stoic Neteyam sleep-hunting. Ateya looked at Neteyam with a confused smile, while the man stared at you, entirely captivated by how fiercely you were trying to embarrass him.
“Is that right?” Neteyam asked. “I don't remember chasing a viperwolf, sleepyhead.”
“Of course you don't, you were asleep,” you shot back smoothly, turning back to Ateya with a pitying shake of your head. "It's tragic, really. He also snores like a dying banshee when it rains. It's a miracle his family gets any rest at all. I only tell you this so you know what you are getting into, should he ever be left without a mouth guard during a monsoon.”
Ateya looked genuinely startled by your bluntness, her eyes darting to Neteyam to see if his pride would flare. “Oh... I see,” she offered softly, trying to find her footing in the conversation. “I suppose everyone has their... quirks.”
“Oh, he is full of them,” you replied instantly, your smile tightening.
“Hm,” Neteyam huffed a laugh, stepping even closer into your space, completely unfazed by your trashing. If anything, your desperate attempt to ruin his reputation seemed to intoxicate him. He tilted his head, his voice dropping into a low, private purr meant only for you. “You seem to know an awful lot about my nighttime habits. One might think you spend your evenings watching over me.”
“Oh, no, it’s the talk of the village,” you waved a dismissive hand and rolled your eyes.
Just in time, the rhythm for the dance Tuvek was talking about sounded and Tuvek glances at you. “There’s the dance.”
You smiled. "I’ll honor you." You gave Tuvek your hand, and he accepted it with a polite, sweeping bow, guiding you onto the crowded dance floor.
As you moved with Tuvek, matching the rhythmic thrum of the drums, the adrenaline from your bickering with Neteyam began to bleed away, leaving behind a hollow ache of the previous days. Tuvek was a perfectly fine partner, his movements were precise, his manner exceptionally polite, but you felt entirely disconnected from your own body. You felt two feet small again, a fraud hiding behind a confident huntress.
During a synchronized turn, your eyes drifted toward the council’s dais. You caught the line of vision of several senior elders and how they were all watching Neteyam and Ateya in approval. You followed their gaze and saw Ateya who had a dreamy, captivated look on her face, her eyes fixed entirely on him as she spoke about something.
Your eyes slid to the figure beside her, your heart jumping to your throat when you saw him watching you with an intense focus. You swiftly looked away, pretending to enjoy the rhythm.
The moment the music swelled to a finish, you offered Tuvek a nod. “It was a great pleasure to be in your company, Tuvek, but you must forgive me. I want to excuse myself.”
Before he could offer to accompany you, you practically fled, slipping past the dancing bodies. You jumped a few branches down until you are out in the comfort of the surrounding forest. The heavy beat of the drums faded, replaced by the sharp cracks of leaves under your soles. But you barely had time to draw a ragged breath before the distinct, deliberate sound of footsteps echoed behind you.
You spun around, your arms instantly crossing tightly over your chest in defense. Through the glowing blue and magenta bioluminescence, you saw Neteyam tracking you, his long strides steady and unrelenting.
“Leave me alone,” you hissed, your voice clipping with vulnerability.
“No,” Neteyam said. As he stepped fully into the pale light of a glowing fern, your breath caught. He looked angry. It was a hard, clenching tight line of his jaw. A dangerous, fierce expression you had never once seen him direct at you.
Your eyes narrowed as you focused on him, your own temper flaring to mask the sudden sting of tears. “Are you angry?”
“I suppose I am,” he said, his voice a low, rough vibration.
“At me?” you asked, a bitter, defensive laugh bubbling up in your throat. Your chin lifted defiantly. “Mad at me for what? Because I disparaged your pristine image to your precious Ateya? Oh, don't worry, Neteyam, I don't think she cares at all! She was still looking at you with heart-shaped eyes the entire night!”
“You think I care about her?” Neteyam stepped sharply into your space, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his golden eyes blazing. “I couldn't care less what she thinks of me! But I certainly cared about watching you hand your palm over to her brother! I cared about watching him lean into your face, talking about how 'beautifully' you move!”
“He was just being polite!” you yelled, your voice cracking as the sheer pressure of the past week finally broke through your defenses. “And you should, too, I saw the council. They approved of you two—”
“I don't want Ateya!” Neteyam roared, grabbing your upper arms, his grip firm, unyielding, but entirely careful not to hurt you. “And I don't want you anywhere near him! It was driving me insane, Y/N. Watching him touch you, watching you smile at him, and knowing you’re somehow mad at me again for only Eywa knows what. Because unlike him, I can’t seem to do anything right by you!”
Your chest heaved. Your inner lip was caught between your teeth as a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion hit you. His words felt like a direct proof of the thoughts you had just harbored at the feast. He had shown you nothing but absolute, relentless kindness his entire life, and you had paid him back in nothing coldness and meanness.
You swallowed hard, quickly turning your head to hide the hot tears that were suddenly pooling in your eyes. But you weren't fast enough. Neteyam took a sharp, panicked breath the moment he saw the glint of moisture on your cheek.
“Fuck. Are you crying?” he rushed out, his long strides instantly eating away the remaining space between you. The anger was completely gone, replaced by pure panic. “I didn't mean for it to come across that way. Shit. I'm so sorry I said that. Please don't cry.”
You shook your head, the hot tears finally spilling over and tracking down your face. Before you could pull away, his large hands came up, firmly but gently grasping your upper arms to steady you.
“No? Then what is it? Was it Tuvek?” his body went instantly rigid, his ears flattening as a dangerous, protective growl vibrated in his throat. “Did he say something to you?”
“No,” you sniffled, your own hands automatically coming up to grip his forearms, feeling the hard, steady muscle beneath his skin. “You were right, Neteyam. You can't do anything right by me, but you are not to blame for that. I am. I am so mean to you. So needlessly cruel and defensive at times, when all you've ever wanted to do was help me, and protect me, and I—”
“Hey. Shh,” he hushed you softly, pulling you forward and wrapping his massive, warm arms around your trembling frame and tucking your head securely against his chest. “What are you even saying? You could never do anything to me that I do not let you do. Don’t think of me as some victim.”
“That’s the exact problem,” you mumbled against his bare chest, your voice muffled but fierce. “You are such an idiot. You would literally allow me to impale you with a hunter's spear if I told you I wanted to.”
A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated against your cheek. Neteyam squeezed you a little tighter, his chin resting against the top of your head. “I definitely would,” he whispered quietly.
A profound, heavy silence fell over you both. Neteyam slowly pulled back just enough to look down at your face, his golden eyes filled with a softness that made your knees weak as he traced the glowing pattern of your bioluminescent freckles—the stars he saw every single time he closed his eyes.
“You like me...” you mumbled, the words feeling like a sacred, forbidden secret leaving your lips.
“Like?” Neteyam echoed, a small, breathless smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe... when I was a boy.” His gaze darkened, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “But I am a man grown now. And my feelings grew out of the 'like' territory a very long time ago.”
You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to process the intensity in his eyes. Remembering the scandalous, late-night gossip sessions with Kar'ek and the girls, you blinked up at him innocently. “You... you lust for me?”
Neteyam snorted, a sharp burst of genuine laughter barking from his chest. His large frame shook against yours, his white teeth flashing in the dark. Your lips twisted into a pout, your face thoroughly confused, but a spark of warmth bloomed in your gut just watching his unbridled joy.
“I do,” he admitted freely, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze dropped to your mouth for a heavy, lingering second. “I definitely do. But what I mean is... I love you. I am completely, entirely in love with you. I have been for years, Y/N. There is no one else. There never has been. And never will be.”
You looked up at him, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs you were certain he could hear it. You tried as hard as you could to hide the massive smile tugging at your lips, burying your face slightly back into his chest. “You are an idiot...” you mumbled.
Neteyam let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his ears pinning back in absolute, staggering relief. He didn’t back down. Instead, his hand slid up to the back of your neck, his long fingers tangling gently into your hair as he tilted your face up, demanding your full attention.
“For being crazy over and falling in love with the clan’s fiercest, most stubborn huntress?” he asked, his voice dropping to a rough, intense whisper. “Perhaps I am. I am a massive idiot.”
You playfully glared at him, your hand tracing the curve of his arm. But the vulnerability rushed back, and your gaze lowered to his chest, your forehead creasing as your lower lip gave a small, telling tremble. “I got... so jealous of Ateya tonight. I was so jealous, Neteyam, I wanted to cry during dinner.” You looked up, your eyes wide and searching. “ think she would do well. She seems like a good woman, a good huntress... and an even better weaver, from what everyone says.”
A deeply humored, incredibly smug look washed over his features, a familiar, cocky smirk returning to his lips. “Do well with what?”
“With you,” you said, poking his chest sharply.
His head tilted, his thumb caressing your jawline. “I rejected the match with her for years because I wanted someone else,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “And now this someone else is crying because she thinks I’ll ever look at another woman and forget the only one I’ve ever wanted.”
Your lips twisted. “I am not good to you,” you repeated softly.
Neteyam squeezed your hand, bringing his face so close your noses brushed. “I don’t care. I love you. And I don’t care if you don’t feel the same right now,” he said with an absolute, unyielding intensity. “I only wish for your happiness. So whatever it takes, I will do it. I will take whatever fire or ice you throw my way.”
“Me, too,” you whispered.
Neteyam froze, his eyes widening a fraction. “You do?”
Your eyes went wide as you realized what you had just admitted, your heart leaping into your throat. “I—I mean, I want you to be happy, too!” you stammered, biting your lip as your gaze helplessly dropped to his mouth.
Unable to resist the pull any longer, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a quick, desperate kiss to his lips. You tried to step back in a hurry, your old defensive instincts flaring, but Neteyam’s arm tightened like steel around your waist. He pulled you flush against his body, his other hand gathering your braids to hold your head steady as he tilted your face up and kissed you properly.
He kissed you deep, hard, and possessive, molding his lips to yours with all the pent-up hunger of a man who had waited a lifetime. A soft, breathless moan escaped your throat against his mouth, your fingers gripping tightly into the muscles of his shoulders. It felt good. Shockingly, terrifyingly good.
He finally pulled away just enough to let you breathe, his lips trailing hot, damp paths down your jawline while his large hand cupped your cheek. You angled your head, desperate to kiss him again, but the sudden, distinct rustle of heavy footsteps nearby cut through the haze.
You moved away from him faster than lightning, your heart leaping into your throat. You started walking back toward the clearing like a startled yerik caught in a hunter's sights, only to freeze when you spotted Sak'nur walking down the path not a few paces away.
“There you are,” Sak'nur said, stopping. “Father told me to find you. What are you doing out—” He broke off, his forehead creasing deeply as his eyes slid behind you. “Neteyam?”
Your entire frame jolted. You quickly crossed your arms over your chest. “We ran past each other near the clearing,“ you lied smoothly, your voice barely trembling. “... I was only out for some cold air and alone time.”
“And Neteyam?” your brother asked, his sharp eyes darting suspiciously between the two of you.
You turned to look at Neteyam, seeing that he still looked completely stupefied, his ears twitching as he pointed a thumb vaguely behind himself, his lips opening and closing as if his verbals skills had entirely failed him.
“He was out to make sure there are no dangers in the vicinity,” you covered for him, stepping closer to your brother. “What does father want?”
Sak'nur stared at you, clearly unsatisfied with the answers but unable to pinpoint why. “He wants to speak with you about an important matter, apparently.”
“Alright, I'm going,” you said, offering a tight smile before turning back toward Hometree.
The two warriors followed you back to the communal clearing. You walked up to your father, who immediately drew you aside to a quieter corner of the clearing, away from the roaring heat of the central fire.
“Daughter,” your father began, his voice dropping into the low tone he used when speaking of clan matters. “The elders have spoken with me. They believe a pairing between you and Tuvek would secure a vital line of trust between our hunters. He is a formidable warrior, and his father is a powerful ally.”
You stood before him, but you could hardly think straight. Your skin was still flushed and your lips were practically burning, still tingling from the possessive pressure of Neteyam's mouth. The contrast between your father's political gravity and the wild, illicit heat flooding your veins was dizzying. You had absolutely no intention of entertaining a single word of what the council wanted.
“He seems like a good man, Father,” you said, forcing your voice to sound entirely detached, though your heart was still hammering against your ribs. “But I have no interest in him. Or his clan's alliances.”
Your father nodded, taking a slow sip from his cup. “He is an Olo'eyktan's firstborn son, daughter. It is a match of great honor. Are you telling me your heart is already occupied elsewhere?”
Your breath hitched, but you quickly locked your jaw, “Father, I am not interested in being a wife at this age, to be honest. I want to... sharpen my skills, so to say. But if the elders want an alliance, we have other huntresses from good lineage they can trade.”
Your father hid another slow satisfied smirk behind his cup. He had seen the way Neteyam had practically bolted out of the clearing after you, and he could see the telltale flush on your cheeks now. If the fact that you’re both singing the same tune isn’t enough proof.
“Very well,” he murmured evenly, tapping your shoulder. “I will tell the elders you wish to weigh the gravity of the decision first, but we won’t speak of this again.”
Across the room, Neteyam was standing with Sak'nur, feigning interest in whatever your brother is saying, but his golden eyes were locked onto you. He watched your expression, knowing how dutiful you were to your family, silently praying that just this once, you would listen to nothing but your own heart.
The moment he saw you walk away from your father, Neteyam set his bowl of brew down and patted Sak'nur on the back. His eyes met yours from across the crowded, firelit room, and he gave a subtle jerk of his head toward the outer branches. You gave a barely perceptible nod, slipping out of the feast once more.
As you walked along the high pathway of the outer branches, a large, warm hand wrapped firmly around your elbow, gently pulling you back into the darkness of a massive trunk.
“Your father...?” Neteyam began, his voice tight with anxiety.
Your lips twisted as you tried to stifle a massive smile. “He told me about an arrangement with Tuvek,” you murmured, watching his grip tighten on your arm. “I told him I am not interested.”
Neteyam let out a long, shuddering huff of relief. You smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tiptoeing to press your lips to his. He kissed you back instantly, a soft, purring rumble in his chest. “Good,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Good.”
You smiled against his lips, pulling back slightly. “Listen,” you whispered, your expression turning serious. “I don't want to hide this... but I don't know how to tell my brother. Or my father. Or anyone, for that matter. Do you understand?”
Neteyam looked deep into your eyes, his gaze overflowing with tenderness. “I'm not complaining,” he smiled, leaning down to press another soft kiss to your lips. “We’ll do whatever you want. At your pace, baby.”
“Y/N?”
You jumped away from Neteyam instantly, spinning toward the entryway of the clearing to see Kar’ek standing there. His sharp eyes immediately narrowed into suspicious slits as he watched Neteyam stepping back into the shadows.
“Kar'ek,” you greeted, trying to sound breathless from walking, not kissing.
“We were just looking for you. It is time for the dancing!” Kar’ek said, dynamically swaying his hips to the distant rhythm of the drums.
“Right! I'll be there with you guys soon,” you grinned.
“Oh-kay...” Kar’ek dragged out, his eyes narrowing further as a massive, knowing smirk spread across his face. He shot a heavily loaded look toward Neteyam's shadow before turning on his heel and sauntering away.
That night was only the beginning. What followed was a succession of secret, thrilling rendezvous that left your heart permanently racing. You two were practically compiling your own list of offenses: like hiding beneath the massive roots of Hometree, your muffled giggles pressed against his chest while a hunting patrol walked mere paces away; the midnight flights on your ikrans to the highest, mist-shrouded cliffs just to share a single, stolen blanket from Tuk to take a nap; the hidden moments behind the weapon racks where he would boldly press you against the wood as he kisses you, his hand anchoring your hip while your brother is looking for him in the training grounds; and the quiet dawn swims in the river, washing the dirt from your skin while his hands mapped the curves of your body beneath the water.
You felt like you were living out one of Kar’ek’s scandalous escapades, and you couldn't help but laugh out loud whenever you recounted your friend's wild gossip to Neteyam during your hidden hours.
“Who exactly are these anonymous hunters?” Neteyam asked one afternoon, sounding thoroughly scandalized but chuckling warmly as he adjusted you comfortably on his lap. You were hidden deep within the hollow of an ancient tree.
“I won’t give any names,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “But let’s just say he is definitely not running out of boys to play with.”
“May Eywa give those poor boys strength,” Neteyam laughed, his chest rumbled against your back. “The same way she giveas me strength...”
You smirked, shifting your weight and swinging your legs over his thighs to straddle his lap completely. “I think there is a very low supply...” you whispered, cupping his strong jaw and leaning down to press a deep, teasing kiss to his lips.
Neteyam let out a low groan, his hands immediately finding your hips. You pulled away just an inch, chuckling softly against his skin.
“See? Low supply.”
“You are entirely unfair,” he growled playfully. His large hand came up, clamping firmly around the nape of your neck to pull you down into a deeper, far more breathless kiss. His other hand caressed your waist up to your breast, fondling gently. You smiled against his lips, grinding your hips against him as the heat between you flared.
In the succeeding weeks, the atmosphere in the communal gathering was heavy with an entirely different kind of tension. Gossips from the younger bunch spread after the elders discussed the latest news from the upper branches: a young, unmated woman had been discovered to be carrying a child, and her lover was a hunter from an outside clan.
Apparently, the two had been sneaking out for moons without anyone knowing.
Instantly, a wave of territorial protectiveness rippled through the Omatikaya men. They thought it an offense that the hunter should do it that way when he could have courted the woman. Your brother, on the other hand, knowing how many of the young hunters harbored quiet infatuations with you, issued a cryptic, booming warning to the circle.
“If any man thinks he can disrespect my sister in the dark, sneaking around behind my back,” Sak’nur growled, his eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk, “he will lose a hand before he ever sees the dawn.”
A sudden, nervous silence fell over the younger hunters. Several of them shifted uncomfortably, their faces tightening with guilt that they looked as if they were the ones actively sneaking out with you. You couldn't help but look across the fire, your eyes instantly landing on Neteyam and finding that wasn't sweating at all.
In fact, he had a deeply humored, incredibly cocky smirk playing on his lips as he raised a single, challenging eyebrow at you. Your lips twisted, and you aggressively rolled your eyes at him, though your heart gave a violent, uncontrollable flutter against your ribs.
Later that afternoon, the heat of the day had finally begun to break. You had just finished instructing a group of younger hunters in advanced archery, watching them disperse before turning back to the targets to hone your own marksmanship. You drew an arrow back, the tension of the bowstring resting against your cheek, when the distinct, soft crunch of footsteps sounded behind you.
You let the arrow fly, hitting the exact center of the target with a sharp sound, and smiled before you even turned around.
Neteyam stepped into your space, his large hand instantly snaking around your waist from behind, pulling your back flush against his chest. He lowered his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder.
“Not done yet?” he murmured, his fingers giving your waist a firm, possessive squeeze.
“Done,“ you said, unstringing the bow. "I was just practicing my aim."
"So modest, my baby..." he scoffed softly, a lopsided smirk gracing his lips as he took the bow from your hands and set it aside against the weapon rack. "As if she weren't already one of the finest marksmen this clan has ever seen. Come on. I’ll meet you up at the roost."
Your lips twisted into a small smile. You gathered your things and climbed the rocky, winding paths up to the high ikran ledges, arriving just a few minutes before him. By the time Neteyam walked up, his own saddle in hand, the sky had already begun to bleed into a bruised violet, the forest below waking up with its first faint glimmers of bioluminescence.
You both mounted and took to the sky, diving off the cliff into the open, cool air. Up in the darkening heavens, the weight of the clan entirely disappeared. You raced each other, your ikrans dipping and diving, their wings nearly brushing as you performed dizzying aerial maneuvers, laughing like children as you pushed each other higher into the clouds.
Eventually, the sky turned darker, and you guided your ikran down onto a secluded, floating mountain, a mossy grotto you both had claimed as your own secret sanctuary.
The moment your ikrans found their footing on the stone, you slid off your mount and threw yourself into Neteyam's arms. He caught you seamlessly, his large hands immediately locking around your waist to pull you flush against him. Your head was thrown back as he captured your lips, kissing you with a fierce, burning intensity that left you utterly breathless.
Your arms found purchase around his broad, powerful shoulders, matching the desperate hunger of his mouth as he slowly guided you down onto the soft, glowing moss of the grotto floor.
You let out a soft chuckle against his lips as his mouth migrated down, trailing hot, damp paths down your jawline and into the sensitive crook of your neck. You caressed his shoulders, your fingers tracing the hard muscle of his back.
"Have you not given what my brother said a single thought?" you asked breathlessly, cradling his head against your neck.
Neteyam reared his head back, looking down at you with a lazy, lopsided smile that made your stomach flip. "I am not afraid of your brother," he murmured, his golden eyes turning dark, yet carrying a sudden, wistful depth. "The only thing I am afraid of... is you waking up one day and deciding you’re completely done with me."
Your forehead creased, your heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his voice. You reached up, cupping his sharp, tattooed jawline with both hands. "That would never happen," you said with absolute emphasis, locking your eyes with his. "I love you, Neteyam. I love you very much."
Neteyam froze. His golden eyes widened a fraction, and then, a brilliant, blinding smile lit up his face, an expression of pure, unadulterated joy you rarely see on his stoic face.
"I love you more, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down to devour your lips in a soft, deeply tender kiss. "I love you so much more."
You looked up at him, smiling at the faint, unshed tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "Isn’t it quite funny?" you chuckled softly, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. "You’ve kissed me everywhere, we've broken every rule... but I haven’t actually told you that I love you until tonight."
Neteyam let out a deep, booming laugh, burying his face back into your neck, hugging you so tightly your ribs ached, peppering your skin with hot kisses. "I should have told you moons ago," you murmured, angling your head to give him better access.
"It doesn't matter," he breathed against your skin, his hands sliding down your body. "You love me now, and that is more than enough for me."
You smiled, pulling him down by his neck for another deep kiss. With a practiced, heavy motion, Neteyam’s long fingers brushed the soft, woven petals of your top away from your chest. His lips trailed a path of fire down your throat, moving lower until you arched your back with a soft gasp, completely offering yourself to him.
He suckled deeply on one breast while his large hand fondled and squeezed the other, his thumb rubbing the sensitive peak until a ragged moan tore from your throat. You let your head fall back against the cool, damp earth, your fingers tangling in the moss as he kissed his way down the flat plane of your stomach.
Neteyam slid down, his hands firmly pressing your thighs apart. You instinctively lifted your hips, allowing him to untie the leather cords of your loincloth, pulling it free from your tail. Once you were fully bare beneath him, he lowered his head between your legs.
His tongue was relentless at licking, sucking, and swirling against your slick center, guided entirely by the needy, desperate sounds leaving your lips. He held your thighs pinned against his shoulders, driving you closer and closer to the edge until your body violently shuddered, a loud cry echoing through the quiet grotto as you came against his mouth.
As the tremors slowly faded, Neteyam rose, kneeling between your parted legs. The pale bioluminescence of the floating mountain washed over him, treating you to a breathtaking view of his heavily muscled frame, his broad chest heaving, his shoulders squared as he untied his own loincloth. His eyes were fixed on you with a dark, predatory intensity. He lowered his upper body down, pinning you beneath his weight as he kissed you again, and you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.
Wanting a change, you prepared to flip your positions, aiming to slide on top of him. With a sudden shift of your hips, you successfully rolled over, though Neteyam definitely helped guide your waist, letting out a low grunt as his back hit the mossy ground.
Your lips twisted into a dark, confident smirk as you straddle him. Reaching down, your fingers wrapped around his large, thick length, looking down at him with heavy, hooded eyes. Neteyam smiled lopsidedly, his hands resting loosely on your hips as he watched you gather your own wetness, deliberately lathering it along the shaft of his cock.
His hips gave an involuntary, desperate buck as a low whimper escaped his throat. You immediately pressed a firm hand against his tense abdomen. "Relax, baby..." you whispered.
In retaliation, his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers bruising your skin. You lined his head up against your velvety lips, slowly brushing the wide, sensitive tip against your wetness, intentionally pleasuring yourself first. Neteyam watched you, completely incapable of closing his eyes even as the sheer pleasure made his jaw clench.
Finally, you guided him to your opening, adjusting the angle of your thighs to accommodate his familiar, staggering girth. You bit your lower lip as the wide head began to slip inside, knowing it would take a conscious effort to take all of him in.
You began to lower yourself down with agonizing slowness. Neteyam’s hands were firm on your waist, keeping you steady, but your own impatience suddenly got the better of you. With a sharp exhale, you sank down in one sudden, heavy motion, completely impaling yourself on him as a loud, ragged cry tore from your throat.
"Shit," Neteyam groaned, his eyes snapping shut as his arms instantly flew up to gather your upper body, holding you tight as you weakly collapsed against his chest like a broken branch hanging to a tree for dear life. "Baby..."
He wrapped his massive arms around you, his hand tilting your chin up so he could kiss you, soothing the sudden, overwhelming fullness. You kissed him back deeply, your walls tightly squeezing and suffocating his girth. You stayed entirely still, kissing and breathing together until your body finally adjusted to him.
Once the ache turned into a thrumming heat, you pushed yourself up, beginning to move rhythmically on top of him. You pushed and pulled, your hips, grinding against his as you anchored one hand firmly against his chest. Neteyam’s hands returned to your waist, guiding your pace as the speed picked up.
Your breathless moans and his deep, guttural groans echoed off the stone walls of the little grotto. In the middle of a heavy upward stroke, Neteyam's thumb found your sensitive nub, rubbing it in perfect sync with your movements. The sudden, intense friction made your entire frame tremble.
“Shit...” you quivered and he applied pressure on your nub.
“Aww...” he mumbled mockingly, his other hand fondling your breast. “You feel so good, baby...”
He was incredibly talkative even in the heat of sex, whispering praise, groaning your name, telling you how good you felt, and you absolutely loved it.
Your internal muscles clamped down hard as a violent wave of completion took over, your body shaking as you came for the second time, hugging his neck tightly while he switched your positions and lay you back on the moss to continued pounding into you. He kissed the sweat-slicked skin of your shoulder as he thrusted, finally let out a low, roaring groan, spilling himself deep inside you.
The sheer exhaustion of the night finally caught up to you, and you passed out cold in his arms and when you finally blinked your eyes open, the cool violet of the night had been replaced by the bright, piercing light. You were still tucked securely against his side, your cheek resting comfortably against his broad chest.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Neteyam whispered, a soft chuckle vibrating against your ear. “I thought we were only staying for a few hours, but then... you slept straight through the night and half the morning.”
You huffed a quiet chuckle, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his chest. “Morning to you, too, handsome,” you mumbled, propping yourself up on one elbow.
Your long braids cascaded beautifully over your shoulders, framing your face in the bright daylight. You watched as Neteyam’s golden eyes instantly dilated at the sight. "I suppose I do love sleeping in," you teased.
"I love you sleeping in, too..." he whispered, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You look so innocent when you're asleep."
You grinned, a wicked light entering your eyes. "And when I’m awake?"
"When awake... you’re my naughty little huntress," he whispered hoarsely, leaning in to playfully nip at your earlobe. "But right now, the naughty is going to have to be reined in. We need to go home. Your family is definitely looking for you by now."
You pouted, shifting your weight. "I’m a big girl, Neteyam. My father won’t care about that anymore. Or... are you suddenly scared of Sak'nur?"
Neteyam scoffed, though a confident smile quickly broke across his face. "I can handle your brother."
You smirked, your hand slowly traveling down the flat plane of his stomach until your fingers wrapped around his length, which was already hardening at your touch. "So then we can definitely stay for one more."
He groaned, allowing you to take control. He sat up, kneeling on the moss and rounding you. On normal days, you would lie on your back, but this morning, you turned your back to him, dropping down onto your hands and knees, arching your spine invitingly.
Neteyam let out a low, guttural growl, his large hands clamping onto your hips. You looked back over your shoulder, catching sight of his chest heaving, his golden eyes blown wide and wild, looking exactly like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. The romance of the previous night was entirely gone, replaced by a wild, frantic, and primal morning coupling that left you both shivering.
By the time you both got ready and mounted your ikrans, it was already midday. You flew back toward Hometree, racing each other through the canopy and laughing like idiots, but the moment you neared the high roost, the laughter died in your throat.
Standing right at the edge of the ledge, arms crossed tightly over his chest, was Sak'nur.
You weren't necessarily scared of being found out, but the timing couldn't have been worse. The moment your ikran’s feet touched the branches, you slid off, quickly stepping in front of your brother and pressing a firm hand against his chest to force him back.
Sak'nur looked absolutely murderous, his eyes locked entirely on Neteyam, who landed smoothly a second later and descended from his saddle with a calm, steady grace.
“Were you with my sister the entire night? She didn’t come home,” Sak’nur demanded, his voice a low, lethal growl.
“Sak’nur, stop,” you pleaded, shoving against his chest.
"I was," Neteyam answered simply, his golden eyes unblinking as he stepped forward.
"Motherfucker," Sak’nur hissed, pouncing forward. You threw your entire weight into your brother to hold him back, but he was far too strong. He overpowered you, shoving you aside to get to his target.
Neteyam’s eyes widened at the sight of you being pushed. "Fucker!" he hissed, all restraint vanishing as he launched himself at your brother.
The two of them collided heavily, grappling and tearing into each other, throwing raw, heavy punches that echoed through the trees. They were fighting like you had never seen them fight before. Two elite warriors tearing the ground apart out of sheer, blinding rage.
"Fuck you, asshole!" Sak’nur roared, catching Neteyam by the throat and slamming him against a mossy root. "Out of all the men here who would go behind my back and disrespect my sister, I didn’t think it would be you! You sneak around in the dark like a coward! Are you toying with her?!"
Neteyam threw a vicious elbow, breaking Sak’nur’s grip and forcing him back a step. His chest was heaving, his face smeared with dirt and sweat, but his eyes were blazing with absolute, unyielding conviction.
"I am not toying with her!" Neteyam shouted back, his voice tearing raw. "I have loved Y/N my entire life! I’ve never been with anyone else, not a single soul, because of her! I love her more than my own breath, Sak’nur! And I knew that if she ever showed me even just a single drop of love, not even our friendship would be enough to keep me away from her!"
Neteyam wiped a smear of blood from his lip, stepping right back into Sak’nur’s face.
"And she does. She loves me. So I can't stay away, and I won't. I intend to mate with her before Eywa. I intend to make her my wife!"
Sak’nur stared at him, his ears pinning back in a mix of fury and sheer, stunned disbelief. "Make her your wife?! You say you honor her, yet you disrespect her by sneaking her out into the jungle for only Eywa knows what?!"
"I am a grown woman, Sak’nur!" you screamed, your chest heaving as you glared fiercely at your brother. "It is not your business where I go, or who I choose to lay with!"
Sak’nur looked at you, his chest rising and falling heavily, the protective fury in his eyes still burning but slightly wavering under your fierce defense.
Neteyam stepped up right behind you, his large hand coming down to rest firmly on your shoulder, anchoring you to his side. He looked at your brother, the raw anger in his face softening into something deeply earnest, yet entirely uncompromising.
"Sak'nur, look at me," Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a steady, intense rhythm. "What Y/N and I have... it is entirely separate from the brotherhood between us. You are my best friend. You are my brother in arms. But your sister and I... We love each other. I love her with everything I am, and nothing is going to change that. Not even you."
Your brother grappled with him again, they punched and tore into each other like wild animals. It was a brutal, bloody spectacle, but to your absolute, utter confusion, the raw violence slowly devolved into heavy panting, and then... a sharp burst of laughter.
You stood there, your jaw practically dropping as you watched them lie on the ground, bloody-faced and bruising, laughing like two boys who had just finished a friendly sparring match.
"Brother," Neteyam began, wiping a smear of blood from his lip as he sat up. "I do not mean to go behind your back... but like I said, what I have with Y/N is ours alone. No one knew about it until now. We were keeping it low... but I won’t apologize for loving her."
Sak'nur shook his head, a lingering, humored smirk on his face as he accepted Neteyam’s hand to pull himself up. "I don’t expect you to apologize," your brother said, wiping his own nose. "But I still expect you to be a better man. You will court my sister properly now... and the mating will be in a year."
"A year?!" you and Neteyam echoed in unison, your voices cracking.
Sak'nur scoffed, a teasing glint in his eye. "What, not man enough?"
"Fuck you," Neteyam replied smoothly, standing to his full height and casting a wicked, incredibly cocky wink in your direction. "All right. I will do all of that. I wanted to court her openly anyway. I want everybody in this jungle to know exactly who I belong to."
Your brother scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Please. I’m still her brother, and I’m still your best friend. If you don’t want me to kick you in the gut, you'll stop the sweet talk."
Neteyam rolled his eyes, offering him a playful shove. "Whatever."
The three of you walked back down the winding pathways toward your family’s kelku. Every single person you passed stared in utter bewilderment at the two elite, bloody warriors limping and holding their bruised sides. They had beaten each other to an absolute pulp, and it was honestly hilarious to witness.
Your father was standing just outside the entryway of the kelku when he spotted the procession.
"Y/N, where were you?!" he called out before his eyes landed on the two battered men. "Great Mother... what happened to you two?"
Sak'nur merely jerked his head toward Neteyam, a smug grin splitting his bruised face. "This asshole is going to court my sister."
Your father stopped. He looked at you, then at Neteyam's heavily bruised but triumphant face, and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, well. Finally."
"Finally?" Sak'nur echoed, thoroughly confused.
"Son, you are completely blind," your father muttered, throwing a heavy hand over Sak'nur's shoulder and leading him inside the kelku to get treated.
Left alone on the path, you walked up to Neteyam, entirely uncaring of the remaining eyes watching from the clearing. "Oh, baby..." you murmured softly, your fingers gently rising to touch the massive, purpling bruise forming on his sharp cheekbone. He winced slightly at the contact. "Let’s deal with that inside."
"Hmm," Neteyam hummed, a lazy, victorious rumble vibrating in his chest. His large hand snaked around your waist, pulling you tightly against his side before he lowered his head, pressing his lips to yours in a hard, deeply public kiss.
If there had been any remaining questions in the village as to why the future chief and your brother had just beaten each other to a pulp... they definitely had their answer now.
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.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
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.”
Reader is provoking Jack and he's trying to stay strong but is so close to breaking. Reader is acting super innocent but "accidentally" sends Jack a nude and it finally breaks Jack.
stepcest, spanking, mean!jack, breeding kink if you squint//1.4k
he catches you so fucking fast. at first he tolerates it with a clenched jaw and gritted teeth, not wanting to reward your bratty behavior.
it starts with the tiny shorts that you roll the waistband of to make them even shorter, the curves of your ass cheeks totally on display as you bend over to put on your shoes in the morning. the cropped-too-short tees that he knows you took scissors to yourself, no fucking bra, your tits bouncing out when you reach on your tippy toes to grab something from a high up counter that jack definitely would've gotten if you'd asked instead of wanting to flash him.
when you don't get what you want after a week, you make it worse for him. there's the batted lashes, the eye contact as you lick popsicle juice from your hand, the pouty lips when he won't give in to something.
he finally snaps when you push it too far. he's in his office, trying to brute force his way through paperwork with his reading glasses perched on his nose, when his phone pings. you're the only person who goes through his do not disturb settings, so he checks it right away. if you're texting him from two doors down, you probably just need him to grab something for you and he really doesn't mind doing it for his baby.
then he opens the text. it's a shot of your ass, framed out by a teeny black thong. you've twisted to take it, your waist and the backs of your thighs accentuated by the angle. looking forward to our date xo
he storms over to your bedroom, pleased to find the door not only unlocked but slightly cracked open. an invitation. you're still in the same position, laying on your stomach wearing just that goddamn thong and a cropped tee -- this one he recognizes as his, by the way, from a charity run a few years ago.
you turn to face him with a big smile, not caring at all that he's seeing you basically naked. "hi, daddy! how are-"
without a word, he yanks you to the end of the bed by the hips, his strong hands unrelenting. he tugs your panties down so hard they stretch and threaten to snap. you try to wriggle away from him but he grunts, "stop squirming, you useless slut. be good."
biting your lower lip, you whimper out, "daddy, what are you doing?"
"you think i don’t know what you've been doing?" his hand makes brutal contact with your ass and you let out a shocked, hiccuping gasp. "honey, girls have been begging for my cock since before you were born."
the next time he spanks you, the sound that comes from your mouth betrays the truth: it's a needy, breathy moan.
"so I'm right, huh?" he manuevers to pull off your shirt, too, manhandling it around your limbs with a roughess that turns your brain firmly into the off position. when he returns to his position behind you, he shoves your knees forward so you're presenting your ass to him. you hear him undo the zipper of his jeans and your mouth waters. he challenges you, "tell me what you want and you can have it. admit what a fucking slut you've been."
"I don't know what you're-"
"don't. don't lie to me." the fat head of his cock presses your sloppy entrance and your eyes widen. you hadn't been expecting him to be that big. from just the tip, you can tell he'll split you open. "I raised you better than that, princess." his cock slides forward, nudging your clit, and you whine for more. as he wets himself with your juices, bumbing your clit over and over, he offers, "I want to give you want you need. you're my baby girl and that's my job. want to make you happy. but I can only do that if you're honest with me. so tell me you've been trying to get me to fuck you. admit it."
it takes you a minute to find the words -- he's being really, really distracting with his hands rubbing your waist and hips and ass -- but you manage to because the desire for him outweighs the hot shame in your cheeks. you whimper into your pillow, "I want you to fuck me."
he grabs your hair and yanks your head back, sneering, "aw, you can do better than that. if you want it, ask nicely."
you arch your back and try to get at him, but the iron grip against your scalp makes it impossible. you choke out, "please give me your cock, dad. please."
"that's more like it," he growls. then he shoves into you in one sharp thrust, not particularly caring if you're completely ready or not. it stings for a second but subsides quickly, your eager wet pussy needing to let him in. he can't believe how good you feel, cursing himself for holding out this long when he could've had you as soon as he wanted. "now fucking take it, okay? be good for me."
you nod against the bed, eyebrows pinching together and mouth falling open while he pounds you at an unrelenting pace. using you how he wants. your body is an afterthought. without even thinking, your dominant hand travels between your thighs to try to give your poor throbbing clit some relief.
"no," jack snarls. "not when you're been such a brat." he grabs your hand and wrenches it behind your back, twisting your wrist almost to the point of injury, the pain right at that spot that makes your vision go blurry with tears while your cunt clamps down with want. starting to sound breathy, like he's on the verge of losing control, he admonishes, "you could've just used your words and asked daddy for what you wanted, but instead you've been distracting me and toying with me like I'm not the one in charge here."
"I'm sorry, Jackie," you cry as he starts to spank you again. "I should've been better. I'm so sorry."
the pain is immense and overwhelming because he's not holding back, not at all, the full force of those army muscles turning your backside black and blue. when you just take it though, being so good without complaining, jack's expression softens. he slows his thrusts and wraps his dominant hand around your abdomen, fingers dropping to your aching clit.
rubbing you hard and fast, feeling your thighs twitch and your stomach clenching, he prompts, "what do you say?"
you gasp out while the pleasure rewires your brain, "thank you, daddy."
he prods, slowing his fingers to keep you on the edge. "and? what do I like to hear more than anything?"
looking over your shoulder with tear-stained cheeks, you catch his hazel eyes and tell him so earnestly it makes his heart hurt, "i love you. love you more than anything. need you to take care of you. need you to show me how to be good. love you."
"there's my sweet baby," he coos. "you know you can have whatever you want if you just listen and obey."
you nod eagerly as your face scrunches up, orgasm tightening because of his expert fingers and his unrelenting cock. "I'll be good from now on. promise. be your good girl forever."
he angles his hips to hit you perfectly, matching the pace of his fingers, making your whole body shake. "then you can cum for me, princess."
you don't really have a choice, anyway. your body listens to him. yields to him. your cunt clenches around his cock and you let out an animalistic wail that your neighbors can probably hear. the added wetness and tightness has Jack throwing his head back in ecstasy, savoring each second he has inside of you for the very first time.
he groans as he starts to lose himself, "now, if you're such a whore that you're taking pictures like that and wearing your slutty clothes, are you on birth control?"
unable to speak in the wake of the orgasm, you shake your head and squeak out, "uh-uh."
"good." after a few more hard pumps, he cums in your pussy without warning and without care, slapping your ass hard as he does. with his warmth coating your insides, he huffs, "better fucking take. something needs to keep your here with me behaving yourself."
Congratulations on the 2000! You deserve the recognition for all the good work you put out and I’m so happy to see your following growing🎉🥳
Can I request Jack Abbot and day 31- foot fetish (I can see this man being obsessed with their lover that a footjob will get him extremely subby and soft)
I'm prepared to be the person to stand up and proudly say I can get behind foot fetishes! I mean y'all already know about my shoe fetish so
kinktober day 31: foot fetish with jack abbot
subby!jack, established relationship, birthday sex, predicure foot worship, footjob
this fic dedicated to my dear @ccarisi as well
You manage to sneak back in the house before Jack's even woken up, slipping out and returning right on schedule. You kick off your sandals, set his cake on the countertop with the rest of the groceries, and quietly go back to your bedroom, where Jack's been sleeping soundly for hours, snorting softly, enjoying the rare chance to sleep in during his day off.
He stirs when you open and close the door, so you sit in bed next to him and press a kiss to his forehead. "Happy birthday, baby."
Jack gives you a sleepy smile and says, "Thanks, hon." He looks over your leggings and sweater, realizing you've already been out while he's been dreaming. "What have you been up to?"
You smile and play absently with his messy curls. "Getting your presents."
"Oh really now?" He grins and sits up, leaning forward and kissing you softly. "Do I have to wait or do I get to know now?"
"You can know the first one now," you lilt. Then you reach under the blanket, knowing perfectly well he almost always wakes up with an erection, and palm him through his boxers. "
He groans gruffly as he throws his head back. "Birthday morning sex is an excellent present."
"Not just that," you lilt. You shift back on the bed and present him with your freshly manicured feet.
“Fuck, baby, all this for my birthday?”
“All for you, Jackie.” You wiggle your toes and giggle innocently. “You like?”
He gives you a knowing glance and delicately lifts you foot closer to his face, admiring the new anklet and iridescent polish. When he catches the cursive J.A. on the anklet’s charm, his heart stammers. Tender and slow, he kisses your ankle and murmurs, “Property of Jack Abbot, huh?”
You smile as he nuzzles the top of your foot. “That’s right.”
Jack kisses the top of your foot and his eyes flutter closed for a moment as his cock twitches in his boxers. You love watching the slow transformation that happens as he drags his tongue reverently down the lines of your sensitive skin, tracing each vein and tendon and freckle. He stops being gruff ex-military doctor Jack Abbot and turns soft, sweet, innocent. Your Jackie. He places nibbling kisses over the top of each toe, careful to stop and admire the expertly applied polish and design on each one as he goes. “You’re so perfect.”
When he pulls your big toe into his mouth, your cunt clenches at the warmth of his cheeks hollowing around you. It’s not so much the sensation as his enthusiasm for it. The lust is so obvious in his blushing chest and the wet spot darkening his boxers where his precum leaks through. Jack toys with the delicate golden ring on your pinkie toe, kissing it gently. Is this new? I don’t recognize it.”
You shrug modestly and admit, “I figured you wouldn’t mind if I got myself a little present too.”
“Please, you know it’s just as much a present for me,” he croons as he sucks the toe into his mouth, playing with the ring using his teeth and tongue until you shiver from the slight tickle. “You enjoy your pedicure knowing I was gonna do this?”
“Of course I did.” You drag your foot down his bare chest, flicking your toes over his nipples just to watch him squirm and draw a sharp breath, and tease, “You probably didn’t even notice my matching manicure.”
“I definitely didn’t,” he replies, eyes rapt on your foot as you nudge it over the waistband of his boxers. You rub the arch over his length and smirk when his chest shudders. “Take a look.” You lean forward and rake cruel, sharp nails down each of his thighs. Red lines rise in their wake. His whines, loud and high, as his quads grumble beneath your stinging touch. “Pretty, right?”
“Very pretty,” he breathes. He can only watch with greedy eyes as you reach for his boxers and tug them down, the fabric’s gentle brush leaving goosebumps over his thighs. You press your foot to his cock lightly until he can’t help loosing an embarrassed little moan. Nothing’s cuter to you than when Jack’s so desperate for what he wants but isn’t quite ready to ask. He knows you'll give him anything, but that doesn't change his bashfulness over asking for things he thinks of as out of the ordinary. With his cheeks vibrant red, he stammers out, “Can I- Can you-“
You give him an encouraging smile and reply, “Grab the lube for me, baby.”
Jack lights up like, well, it's his birthday. He twists to snatch a bottle from the bedside table and uncaps it eagerly. He looks back at you with eyes equally excited and hesitant. "You sure?"
"Whatever you want, Jackie." You sling your other foot into his lap and get yourself into a comfortable position with your knees bent, close enough to kiss him if you bend forward. "I just wanna make you feel good today."
With a tentative smile, he lubes up his cock. You don't miss his little moans that he tries to suppress as he fists his shaft. You wiggle your toes and then get your feet in position, facing toward each other, the arches of them creating a perfect place for him, soft smooth ridges of your skin his for the taking.
When Jack eases his cock between your feet, he lets out the most ravenous, delighted groan that zings right through your clit. His pleasure is your pleasure. And, god, is this pleasure for Jack. One of his hands runs up and down your calves, massaging and stroking as a slight distraction to stop himself from bursting right away. The other holds your feet in place so your arches don't cramp from the strain. The sight of his big hand stretched across both your feel does wonders for your enjoyment.
He holds your feet together prayerfully and thrusts up into your sloppy wet arches, whimpering pathetically as he bites down on his lower lip. His eyes are closed tight and his brows are furrowed and he's just so damn cute you could scream.
"Look," you order, voice quiet but firm. "Don't be ashamed of yourself with me. I want you to see what my feet do to you. See how gorgeous you are when you give in. When you let go."
A needy whine escapes his lips as he opens up his eyes. His focus shifts down to the place where his cock meets your feet. The sight is too much for him to take. He speed up, thighs tensing, and gives one, two, three more pointed, long thrusts. Then he's coming undone, spilling over your skin and watching as it drips down the tops of your feet. All he can manage is a whispered, "Fuck."
When he looks up at you, his eyes are wide and his lips are parted and you can read the gratitude in his every feature. You reach forward, touch his chin with your thumb and forefinger, and give him a slow kiss. "Good boy."
i love your work and CONGRATS!!!! on 1k that is so exciting!!! i will request 🍏 🍇 🌱 for jack and fem reader however you wanna characterize her i'm thinking maybe a med student yayyy
smut smut smut this turned out so good so hot so filthy
deffo tw: dark/coercion/manipulation/also daddy kink and kinda hypno vibes oops/i once again reveal that i have a major thing for reproductive manipulation
"It'll feel better for both of us, baby, don't worry," Jack murmurs as he takes the condom off and tosses it in the trash. He's made you cum three times tonight and you're starting to get confused and foggy in the best way, in the way only he can get you. "Tell me to stop and I will. You know I will because I love you and I always keep you safe. Tell me to stop if you don't want me to fuck you raw."
But you never would. Jack knows best. You know it so clearly when he has you like this, spread out in your bed, his muscles looking so strong and his expression to confident. You've always admired him in the ED, perfectly competent as he orders you through procedures, and he's ten times as domineering in bed. You're two decades younger than him and he never lets you forget, reminding you how pretty you are and how stupid and how perfect.
So when he sinks his cock in you bare, you don't even think to question him. Maybe you would've an hour ago, but now you're so fuck-drunk that all you can do is stare up at him with big, watery eyes and ask, "Do I feel good, daddy?"
"You feel fucking perfect, sweetheart. You're such a good girl for me." He bends down and kisses you warmly, holding your wrists above your head, slowly rutting into you. It's taking all his self control not to fill you with cum right now; your pussy is divine without a condom after months of putting up with it. "Doesn't it feel better now? Feeling all of me?"
You nod stupidly, mouth hanging open as you train your eyes on him, waiting for his words. His magic words that always make your brain feel better after horrible shifts. "Feels so good. Love you so much."
"There's my sweet girl. Love you, too, baby." Jack's free hand goes down at your swollen clit, battered into overstimulation already, and he chuckles at the squeaky, pathetic moan that tumbles from your mouth. "Wanna show me how much you love me? Wanna make me feel even better?"
You nod eagerly and bend up to chase another kiss, but he dodges you, holding your jaw now. You frown and wrap your legs tighter around his hips, trying to get him even deeper, your pussy squeezing him in toward your cervix. "Anything for you, daddy."
"That's right. Anything I want." He leans down and ghosts his hot breath up your neck. A shiver goes down your spine and he coos right against your ear, "And I want you to give me a baby, princess. That's what daddy wants. Think you can do that for me?"
A twinkle of clarity goes into your eyes as you realize that, yes, Jack's fucking you raw right now, you're not on birth control, and your period was two weeks ago to the day. Lip trembling as your mind races, you murmur, "What?"
"Shh, shh, baby, you know I'd never do anything you don't want me to, right? You trust me, don't you?" His cock speeds up in time with his thumb on your clit and pleasure starts to tighten up in your cunt, radiating through your abdomen, his cock prodding at the entrance to your womb. "I already take such good care of you, honey, think about it. I pay for everything. Make sure you have what you need. Never let you struggle. You'll be so beautiful growing a family for me; I'll take care of you every single day and you'll never want anything again."
It's a really beautiful idea, so tantalizing on your tongue that you want to agree, but you mumble out the only objection you can think up at this exact moment, "My- my job-"
"What do you need that for, huh?" His tongue lavishes over your neck, planting kisses, making your brain and your cunt feel fuzzy. "You'd be Mrs. Abbot. Won't need a job anymore."
You give him the sweetest, most hopeful look. "You'll marry me?"
He chuckles at your desperation and tells you the truth: "In a heartbeat. As soon as you want. Biggest wedding you can imagine. Ten-thousand-dollar dress, best venue in the city, or, fuck, in Paris if you want. Whatever you want, always. You'll have all my money, all my attention, all my love." He looks at you so seriously, voice taking on a serious lilt. "You don't need to worry about the stress and evil and death in the world; you just need to be good for me. How could that be wrong, honey? How could me loving you so much I want a family with you be anything but right?"
And you start to nod. You look up into his beautiful hazel eyes, kiss his lovely mouth, wrap your fingers up in his reddish and silver curls, and see into a whole future with him. "You'll take care of everything?"
"Everything. Every single thing." He's smiling now, knowing he's got you, kissing you between words as he assures, "I'll worship the ground you walk on." His cock speeds up more, sweat beading on his brow, and he puts his thumb on your lip. "Say it, baby. Tell me what you need. Tell me you want me to fuck a baby into you."
"I do, Jack," you tell him right away. "I think I do."
"Not good enough, princess," he grunts. Disappointment sickens your stomach as he shakes your head. He kisses up your neck and then commands, "Beg. Beg and you can cum with daddy."
At the perfect reward, the carrot at the end of the stick, you plead out, "I want it so bad, Jack. Want to make you a dad. Want you to give me a family. Get me pregnant," you rasp out, rolling your hips upward now, needing it more than you need anything. His balls tense and the head of his cock punches into your cervix and you feel him start to spill inside of you as tears break over your waterline. You hold his face between your hands and kiss him as you join his ecstasy, weeping out, "Thank you. Thank you, Jack. I love you so much."
"There you go," he rumbles into your skin as he fucks his cum deeper into you, eyebrows pinched together as he starts to soften. "That's it. That's my good girl. Love you so much."
You're smiling as you come down from the orgasm, feeling fully satiated and perfect as his cum covers your insides. The moment Jack pulls out, he presses his fingers back into your pussy, making sure that none of his cum falls out.
He rubs your lower stomach tenderly and kisses it, too. "Gonna keep you like this as long as I can. Fill you up every time I see you. Give you so many babies. That's what you want, sweetheart. That's what we need."
bravely coming off anon to ask for this uhhhhh don’t look at me i’m ashamed, but 🍒 🥥 🌵 with dark!jack abbot, im imagining they’re like staying at his house for *insert inane reason* and he’s kinda pervy and older than them but reader is just so trusting🫣 maybe some daddy vibes idk don’t look at me omg
i love your writing!! i always want to lick your brain when i read it
tw for like...drinking to excess? he gets you rlly drunk basically. so also noncon. essentially.
*takes a long drag of a cigarette* i remember back when i used to feel shame, tumblr user pussyistasty
1.1k
Jack definitely hadn't been planning on doing this when he invited you to crash at his place during the snowstorm.
He hadn't even been planning on it when he gave you a heavy-poured mug of mulled wine and talked with you late into the night.
Okay, maybe it was a thought at the back of his mind when you polished off the mug and gave him a sleepy, cozy, adoring smile so much like the ones you give him at work when he praises you. His perfect little medical student, hoping to place into emergency medicine someday and craving his training, his recommendation, his support.
Sure, once you were so drunk you could barely move and he helped you change into makeshift pajamas, it became a concrete idea. So there was no reason to keep your panties on, really. He helped you tug one of his old shirts over your body and then tucked you into his bed. You were so out of it that you didn't even realize you were mostly naked. Didn't care. All you could think about was how good it felt to have Jack Abbot, your boss and your mentor, making sure you were safe and comfortable instead of sending you home on the bus as usual.
Then, in your drunken state, eyes glassy and smile sloppy, you'd told him as he saw your tits on display, pretending not to be interested, "Watch it, Dr. Abbot, I'm still a virgin" and he knew it was over.
He let you sleep for an hour or so, cleaning up the dishes from dinner and gnawing his lip off as he debated what he knew he would ultimately give into. He was a little tipsy himself, sure, but he knew it wasn't the alcohol that would send him back into his bedroom.
It was pure, unbridled lust. Keeping it together while working in close proximity to you every day has gotten beyond exhausting. Your cute little sighs when you stretch out after a procedure. The way your scrubs are always a size too small -- to the point that Gloria had called you into her office once. How your hair tickles his scruff when he leans in behind you to guide your hands. It's all too much for him. Your presence consumes his mind and it was only a matter of time before he let the basest desires in his lizard brain take over.
So here he is. In his own bedroom, moonlight and hazy snow mingling to cast a soft glow around the space, tugging the covers back away from your body. You're flipped halfway onto your stomach, sleeping deeply, your hips canted upwards and your face mostly turned into the pillow. In this position, with the shirt riding up around your ribs, he has a perfect view of your cunt.
God, your cunt.
He can't resist flicking on the bedside table so he can see you properly. The way he needs. The warm light bathes your curves and the wetness between your legs catches it, almost shimmering. You must be one of those girls who get turned on when they're drunk, so slick when you haven't had any attention. Or maybe you're turned on by the thought of sleeping in his clothes, in his bed, maybe even in his arms. Maybe you'd been hoping for this all along.
That's it.
He can't take it.
Quiet as he can, movements ginger and slow, Jack slides into bed behind you. He slides his middle two fingers between your thighs, barely grazing them along your folds. Testing the waters. Gauging your reactions. You sigh contentedly in your sleep, arching your back like you're asking for more. He can tell you're still sleeping soundly, though, only stirring and responding to stimulus. He imagines what might be going on behind your rapidly moving eyelids. What you might be dreaming about as he begins to circle your clit lightly, sending warmth and twitches throughout your abdomen. He watches with rapt, clinical interest as your eyebrows pinch together and your breaths speed up. Your thighs squeeze around his hand and he knows you must be having a wet dream now. He even lets himself indulge in the idea that it might be about him.
Gaining confidence now, Jack sits up so that he can slowly, carefully work two fingers on his other hand inside of you. He nearly cums in his pants right there. Your pussy is gripping him so greedily he knows you must want this. Some deep-down part of you craves him. Needs him to take you like this. To give you the release that you've never felt with someone else.
Suddenly, your walls clench down hard and a high-pitched, muffled moan tumbles from your throat. Jack curls his fingers to match the tightening of your pussy and then you're spasming around his fingers. The orgasm is quick and flighty without your consciousness to heighten it, but it still has his cock leaking and outright aching.
Jack scrambles out of his pants, getting sloppy now with how badly he needs to feel you. He gives his cock a few pumps, spreading around the precum. And he refuses to let himself second guess what he's about to do. What he's about to take from you.
At the sharp intrusion of Jack's cock plunging all the way inside of you, your confused eyes flutter awake. You're in an unfamiliar bed in someone else's oversized sweatshirt with no panties. There are arms around you. Firm. But you don't panic. You feel loose and warm and safe waking up from the wet dream you'd been having.
You realize, in your sleepy, foggy mind, that you must've dozed off while having sex with Jack, so you turn around to apologize, only to be met with his hand gripping your hip tight. Keeping you in place. He urges, "Shh. Shh, baby, don't move. It's okay. It's just me." He tugs your hip slightly back toward himself so that his fingers can snake down to your clit. It's throbbing and sensitive. He must've made you cum already. And he wants to do it again now. "That feel good?"
You can't help nodding. It does feel good. Really good. You're surprised by how easy and comfortable the stretch of his large cock feels inside of you. You don't remember, but he must've taken his time warming you up. Of course he would. He's always so careful with you. As his slow, steady thrusts lull you somewhere between consciousness and sleep, you try to get out, "Were we- Did I-"
"Don't worry about a thing, sweetheart. We'll talk about it in the morning," he lies, hoping you won't remember any of this and wanting to make sure you stay calm and pliant in his arms. "I've got you. Like always, right? You just be good for me."
You slur back, "But I'm so sleepy, Dr. Abbot."
"That's okay, honey. You don't have to stay awake. Just let me take care of you."
3K congrats!! You are one of my favorite writers and absolutely love how you write Jack! Can you do 🍆 and 🥀 with Jack? Thank you and congrats again!!
sex toys//"you're really pissing me off, you know that?"//jack abbot
(also dmed specifically toys used ON jack)
SMUT, switch for switch type beat, mutual menaces to the other, established marriage, vibrating butt plug, cock ring, under-bed restraints, overstimulation, teasing, riding
1k
Jack grunts, "You're really pissing me off, you know that?"
You glance up at your book and look at your husband on the bed. Half an hour ago, you tied him down using the under-bed straps, his limbs out in a taut X, lubed up and worked a small vibrating butt plug inside of him, and sat down in your cozy chair to finish reading the chapter he'd interrupted with sex this morning when he got home from work. Now it's your turn for revenge.
Barely sparing him a look, you tease, "Why's that, pretty boy?"
He groans, hips squirming and thighs twitching against the restraints. "Come on, baby, give me something to work with. Anything."
"Greedy," you tut. "You're the one who set the whole 'if I'm going to do it to you, I want you to do it to me first so I know it's safe' rule." Turning the page (you're no longer reading, just torturing), you go on, voice light and musing, "Not my fault you came in thirty seconds just from a vibrator on your prostate like a virgin and now you're all needy for another one."
"You put on this fucking thing that won't let me-" He hisses in a sharp breath when you use the linked app on your phone to turn the vibration in his ass higher and harder. You can hear the buzzing from across the room. You haven't seen his cheeks so pink in a long time. "Fuck!"
Jack is usually the dominant one in your relationship, but he switches when he has new ideas. He always likes to know what he's doing to you firsthand. But you like to find ways to make it especially terrible and wonderful for him. He suggested tying you up like this for some overstimulation, so you're giving it to him as much as you want it yourself. It lets him gauge your need. You figured he would bring out your favorite Hitachi to make you cum until you cried, so you brought out his favorite plug and cock ring to do the same.
Jack pinches his eyes shut and breathes deeply for a moment to keep his cool. His cock is red and hard and begging. Streams of sticky cum still cling to his shaft, the rest of it pooled in his bush and on his stomach from the way he came hard after not having his prostate played with in a while. It had taken everything in you not to jump on his cock right then because the sight of him all pretty and submissive gets your brain going, but you knew it would be better the longer you made him wait for your attention.
And, admittedly, you love the way he turns into a real brat when he has no control.
He manages to grunt, "Honey, I literally can't stop being hard with this cock ring and it's- it's fucking excruciating." He whines as you turn it up another notch, giggling when he squirms and moans and grunts and bucks his hips, unable to control himself. He grits his teeth and asks, half sarcastic, "Pretty please, will you come ride me?"
"You're gonna have to do better than that," you lilt. You close your book, stand by the side of the bed, and run a not-enough hand up his thigh. Your touch is ghosting, barely there, making him want more and more and more. "Still got a little bit of an attitude in your tone. Ask nicely."
"Jesus fucking-"
"Not a good start, Jackie." You stop touching him altogether and step back across the bedroom. Stripping your clothes off just out of his sight line in the closet, you call, "I could always just go in the shower and get myself off while you're out here. I don't have to be nice to you."
"At least let me look at you, sweetheart," he begs. "Baby, please, I- I need you. I really fucking need you."
You emerge from the closet naked and smiling. "That's better."
Still, you head over to him agonizingly slowly. You lean down and hover your lips half an inch from his just to watch him strain to kiss you. The strain turns into a pathetic whine for attention, so you kiss him appreciatively. He tugs against the arm restraints, wanting to take you, to demand, to be in charge. But you pull away.
You swing a leg over his body and settle your weight on his thighs. There's sweat on his brow and desperation in his eyes. He wants to touch your supple curves. The swell of your hips and legs and breasts and, fuck, even just the softness of your hands. He wants all of you so bad he could cry. You rock your hips slightly, nudging the shaft of his cock against your throbbing clit. Your witness mingles with his cum and he released a moan more like a bark than anything else.
Really and truly pleading now, Jack cries, "Please, baby. Need you. Need to feel you. Use me however you need to get off. Just- just let me be inside of you."
You stroke his cheek lovingly and grind on his cock again, refusing to give him the total relief he needs. The friction to your clit is delicious and you're reluctant to give it up. You make him sit through a full minute of you frotting on him before finally lifting up, lining him up, and sinking downward. A centimeter at a time. Every slight movement, you take more, and Jack pants or whines or begs. When he's completely filling you, stretching you so familiarly, he lets out a relieved, grateful sigh.
With your fingernails gently raking down his chest, just enough to make him shiver, you coo lovingly, "That's where you belong, isn't it? Happy now?"
"Yes," he practically gasps. "So happy. Thank you. Love you so much."
You praise, giggling just a bit at the reversal of your more typical roles, "Good boy."
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