just kae

🩰🎶 I used to be someone I thought I’d be forever

[clockworkcardiac]

:]

[fireflynavi]

By popular request, I drew Mangkwan Neytiri. But Jake couldn’t resist getting in on it… 🙂‍↔️

The Power Shift (art by me) ❤️🖤

If anyone wondered where Jake’s red handprints came from in the last piece… iykyk 😉

[kawa-tooru]

yk the nights gonna be good when @neteyamthinker uploads

[ohangeleyes]

alright, i'll be the one to say it. ao3 and tumblr becoming "mainstream" did so much damage to the community and the writers. i have seen loads of videos and posts about:

1. people hating on writers and fics. writing is something we do for free and for fun. if you stumble upon a fanfic that isn't necessarily your cup of tea or you just don't like, scroll. dont read it. literally leave their page. you don't know if this could be the author's first work that they're so excited about, you dont know if the language they're writing in isn't their first language, you dont know that the writer could be a literal teen and loads of other reasons. fanfictions don't HAVE to be perfect. you write what you want to write because we do it for fun and enjoyment and we want to share that to the world. seriously, what is the wrong with that?..

2. x reader consumers getting WAY to entitled. the number of tiktoks i've seen that "i run a strict program when it comes to reading fanfics." girl you aint running shit. this is FAN FICTION you're reading. F A N F I C T I O N. there is no denying that most fanfiction writes are beyond talented but just because you read one fanfic that exceeds your expectations doesn't give you the right to talk down on others that don't. people have their own personal writing style, their way of doing things and you talking shit on that isn't right.

at the end of the day, we are all humans, reading and writing is what we do and what we're meant to do. and for you to talk shit about a person WRITING is so insane. we are humans. not some robots that you can tell what to do so you can consume it.

i've seen so so many authors take down their fanfics and losing all motivation to write because of a hate comment. DONT LIKE DONT READ‼️

and to every author reading this, this community values your work and your contribution. we love u and, please, never let anyone's negative words have an effect on you.

[ohangeleyes]

this!!! i completely forgot to mention this!!! so many anon bots have been treating authors like some robots who HAVE to post fanfics 24/7!! happened to my lovely talented mutuals too. you do nothing to contribute to the community or support the authors, you don't like, don't reblog, you don't leave a comment and then you think you get a say in what others will write or get mad that someone's writing style doesn't match the one you like.

get over urself girl omfg. you don't get a say in shit. ‼️‼️‼️

[neteyamthinker]

it was you

pairings aged-up neteyam x na’vi!female reader

notes arranged marriage, fated mates, hidden identity, mentions of toxic gender roles, mentions of revenge, doting husband neteyam, smut (p in v), oral (f&m receiving)

synopsis you had spent your whole life longing for a path that was yours to lead, yet even the choice of who to mate with was stolen from you, when you were told about a betrothal your father had engineered with the son of toruk makto.

word count 18.7k

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The morning mist of the rainforest on this part of Eywa’eveng smelled just the same to Neteyam, like damp moss and the faint aroma of blooming orchids. But he knew that this was no ordinary forest. He’s heard many tales about this one, and how on certain seasons, the sun chooses not to grace it with light.

It makes no wonder to him how tales about the most fearsome creatures are tied to the name of the clan that inhabits these lands.

Neteyam shifted his weight, keeping his breathing steady as he surveyed the unfamiliar terrain. The Omatikaya delegation, led by his parents, had paused further back to let the scouts clear the path, but Neteyam had wandered slightly ahead toward the sound of rushing water.

But he didn't expect the forest to turn hostile so quickly.

He had barely just registered the clicking sound through the budge, but before he could even unsheath his knife, he was already seeing multiple strange creatures lunging for him. They were fast, with segmented limbs and jaws meant for crushing bone. They were the creatures who could swallow an adult Na’vi whole that his father’s scouts had warned them about.

Neteyam cursed under his breath. Unarmed save for his hunting knife, he ducked beneath a snapping jaw, grabbed a fallen, heavy branch and swung with all the force he could muster. The wood hit the creature with a crack, sending it flying yards away into the underbrush. But three more took its place, circling him, eyes gleaming with hunger.

Then, a familiar sound sliced through the chaos. An arrow pierced the eye of the creature, making it collapse instantly.

Neteyam blinked, snapping his head toward the ridge. Emerging from the mist was a rider on a direhorse, shrouded in a dark, heavy cloak. The figure moved with a fluid grace, guiding the mount while drawing another arrow. Two more of the beasts dropped.

When the remaining creatures swarmed, the rider drove the direhorse straight into the fray. As the animal leapt on a fallen log, the rider leaned off the side, pulling a blade and in one seamless motion, they sliced the throat of a leaping beast before landing perfectly back on the mount.

Neteyam stood frozen, a rare awe washing over him. The archery was flawless, the knife-work lethal, and the horsemanship... he had never seen anyone, not even the finest Omatikaya hunters, shoot a moving target from a galloping direhorse with that kind of precision.

The last of the beasts scattered into the jungle and he heard an anguished sound escape the rider. He immediately stepped forward, raising a hand in peace, his eyes locked on the rider’s back. “Warrior,” he began, his voice deep and breathless. “Thank you. I have never seen—”

“Do not thank me,” a voice hissed from beneath the hood. It was sharp, fierce, and distinctly female. “Do not wander around these lands again.”

Before Neteyam could even speak again, she wheeled her direhorse around and with a sharp kick, the beast galloped into the thick fog, leaving Neteyam standing by the waterfall, completely captivated by the ghost who had just saved his life.

As he watched the silhouette of the direhorse fade, the urge to give chase came both suddenly and too late. He wished he had brought his direhorse with him when he wandered... He tilted his head. Why? What will you do? he asked himself. He knew the answer. He would have followed her.

You took a sharp turn, pulling your direhorse’s reins to a full stop before you quickly dismounted. Your heart was still hammering against your ribs from what you thought would be an uneventful patrol. You had wounded and killed many creatures, though deadly and ferocious, they were still creations of the Great Mother.

You couldn’t help but look at the path leading back to where it happened, remembering how the man had called you warrior. It felt like a title stolen from a forbidden dream. No woman in your clan had ever been called one, for no woman was allowed to be. Your people placed a great belief in their men, taking pride in the fact that your clan had only ever produced male warriors and hunters, and how they protected the people from the horrors of the forest.

The wet leaves brushed against your shins as you led your direhorse to a hidden clearing, the silence of the forest doing little to calm your racing thoughts. If your father or mother ever discovered what you had done today, that you had picked up a bow or spilled blood, you didn't know what would happen to you.

In your clan, women were only ever allowed to be healers, cooks, weavers, wives, and mothers. These were sacred duties, and the elders firmly believed that such roles should never be tainted by blood and violence. You sighed heavily, quickly shoving your longbow and quiver into a hollowed-out tree trunk, covering it with ferns. You were pulling at the hood of your cloak when you heard leaves cracking behind you.

“You're late,” a voice sounded urgently.

You spun around to see Tarkul stepping out from the shadows. Your best friend, the clan’s youngest marksman and the only man who looked at you and saw a peer instead of a prize, looked pale. His eyes were wide with anxiety.

“Tarkul? What is it? I just did a patrol—”

“You need to leave. Right now,” Tarkul interrupted, grabbing your shoulders. “Your father... I overheard them. The Omatikaya are coming today—”

“I know that. Father told us to prepare,” you said.

“Yes, yes, they will come, but it wasn’t just for a regular treaty between alliances. Y/N, he has pledged you.”

Your head tilted back in surprise. “Pledged how?”

“He offered you to the firstborn son of Toruk Makto. That Neteyam,” Tarkul spat the name, his grip tightening. “An alliance sealed on your sacrifice. Your father is giving you away like property to ensure the Omatikaya’s loyalty. Your father’s warriors are already looking for you to prepare you for the arrival.”

Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your chest. Your father had spent your entire life treating you and your sisters like a curse. A disappointment because you weren't sons to carry on his warrior lineage. And now, he was using you as a political pawn, reducing you to a broodmare for a strong alliance.

“No,” you whispered, fury igniting in your veins. “No! I will not let him do this. I am not a prize to be traded!”

“Then we run,” Tarkul said, stepping back and whistling for his direhorse. “We’ll go east. They won't find us.”

You scrambled onto your direhorse, your mind a blur of rebellion and fear. You tore through the underbrush with Tarkul right beside you, heading for the boundary line. Freedom was just past the tree line when a familiar sound sliced through the thick morning air.

A whistle of an arrow and Tarkul cried out as a blunt-tipped slammed into his shoulder, knocking him clean off his mount.

“Tarkul!” you screamed, pulling back hard on the reins.

Before you could dismount, four of your father’s elite warriors emerged from the canopy, their spears leveled at you. Their faces were grim, devoid of sympathy.

“The Olo'eyktan demands your presence,” the lead warrior said coldly. “Do not make this more dishonorable than you already have.”

You were dragged back to the village in tears, screaming at them to leave Tarkul alone. In the communal longhouse, your father stood like a statue of stone. He had never looked at you with wamrth, but the stern disappointment on his face as he lectured you about duty, the survival of the clan, and honor still felt like whips on your skin. To him, your tears were just a childish tantrum.

The transition between his scolding to your mother and her ladies moving around you in a flurry of hushed, anxious whispers felt like a nightmare blurring into reality. They bathed you in heavy, floral-scented water that smelled of sweet orchids. They brushed out your long hair, braiding the sides intricately but leaving the rest to fall in a sleek, beautiful half-up ponytail.

They dressed you in the finest loincloth and a matching top made of delicate beads. You felt exposed. Naked. Stripped of the cloak and weapons that made you feel safe.

“He is a great warrior, daughter,” your mother murmured, trying to soothe you as she adjusted the choker around your throat. “They say this Neteyam helped his parents take down the sky people when he was just a boy. He is disciplined. Respectful.”

You kept your gaze locked on the floor, your jaw clenched. You didn't care about his prowess. You hated him on principle.

“And his mother,” one of elder women whispered in awe. “Neytiri. She is a warror who rode into battle alongside her mate, Toruk Makto.”

That detail struck a chord deep inside you. A female warrior. A woman allowed to bleed and fight for her people, recognized by Toruk Makto himself as an equal. A bitter spark of hope flared in your chest, only to be crushed by the reality of your own situation.

“What an accomplished family, then,” your eyes snapped up to your mother. “You’re expecting a man raised by Toruk Makto and his warrior wife to look at our clan, a clan that doesn’t even allow its women to hold a knife; to look at me... and see a mate? Father said he has rejected every other chieftain's daughter before this.”

Your mother’s eyes hardened at the same time the older women around her froze at your boldness. “You are a proficient healer and weaver, daughter. Do not underestimate our clan,” she said in a hiss.

So, not his equal, your brow raised in a protest you chose not to voice out.

A horn blew at the entrance of the village, signalling that the guests had arrived.

Your mother took your trembling hands, her eyes pleading. “Smile, my daughter. Walk with dignity.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding slowly. You stepped out of the tent, walking a few paces behind your father as he went to greet the legendary Jake Sully.

As the Omatikaya delegation walked into the central clearing, your eyes scanned the crowd. There was Toruk Makto, and beside him, his fierce mate, Neytiri. And right behind them walked their eldest son.

Your breath hitched.

The initial shock threatened to paralyze you. Your fingers dug into your palm, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. It was him. The reckless, broad-shouldered warrior who had nearly been swallowed whole by the forest's demons. His long braids and cummerbund were now flawless, as though he had not faced a grave morning.

As the Omatikaya delegation drew closer, you forced your features into a mask of perfect, passive composure. You lowered your chin, casting your gaze downward just as the women of your clan were taught to do. You were sure he didn’t see your face, because if he recognized you, everything would be forfeit. You are not certain what they would have done to Tarkul, the person who taught you everything you know.

Neteyam’s eyes swept over the welcoming committee, lingering on you. Jake had told him beforehand that the Olo’eyktan of this clan had also pledged his daughter to him, and although he’d had enough of all these unnecessary offerings of maiden daughters simply for alliances, he found himself thinking that he might actually entertain this outdated idea if this was the lady.

He waited for you to lift your eyes up, but your head remained bowed, the image of a delicate, heavily beaded prize meant to seal a treaty. A faint feeling of disappointment flickered across his regal face, and he fell into step behind his parents, his posture rigid and distant as they walked past to finally greet your father and mother.

Finally, you lifted your head a little, only to train your sharp eyes on his broad back. Good, you thought triumphantly. Be disappointed.

The welcoming feast in the communal longhouse was a suffocating affair. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, sweet root brews, and the underlying tension of two vastly different cultures trying to find common ground.

You sat precisely where your father had commanded: a step below him, off to the side, acting as the perfect daughter. You kept your shoulders hunched, your hands folded neatly in your lap, and your eyes trained strictly on the woven mat beneath you. You played the part of the timid, submissive maiden to perfection. You wanted to ick him. You wanted this celebrated warrior to find you so utterly dull, so hopelessly meek, that he would do what he had done to every other chieftain's daughter before you: refuse the match.

Across the fire, Neteyam sat beside his mother, Neytiri. He was polite, offering respectful nods to your father’s boasts, but his energy was entirely checked out. During a lull in the drumming, you allowed yourself a single, brief moment of weakness. You peered through the thick fringe of your lashes, tracking the movement of his hands.

Neteyam was lifting a carved cup of brew to his lips. But he wasn't looking at his drink. His intense gaze was locked entirely on you. A heavy, consuming stare of a hunter tracking each and every move the prey does. It was a man’s look, raw and focused, and to your utter fury, you didn't feel degraded by it. Instead, a sudden, treacherous spark of excitement flared deep in your belly, the thrilling realization that despite your best efforts to be as dull as you could, you had his undivided attention.

Annoyed at yourself, your perfect act slipped.

Your jaw clenched and you leveled a sharp glare straight at him, smoothly rolling your eyes before snapping your gaze back down to your untouched food. Across the fire, Neteyam choked slightly on his brew. His eyes widened in genuine surprise, a sudden smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at the realization that timid little ikran still had talons after all. He put his cup of brew down as he watched you slip back into your perfectly meek facade.

The traditional flutes began to play, signaling a time for the young people to mingle. You moved to stand up, and your eyes snapped up in front of when you saw the large figure moving to stand up, too. Your eyes locked with his, and for some reason, you couldn't take your eyes off as he rounded the fire to get to you.

You blinked when he was standing just a few feet away, coming to a sudden awareness of how large and tall he actually was. His hand reached out, his expression a maddening mix of formal politeness and hidden amusement. You clenched your teeth, feining a tremor before you looked fearfully at your father, who was already watching breathlessly. He gave you a firm, approving nod, and you placed your hand in Neteyam's.

As he led you to the edge of the clearing where the other youth were swaying, you purposely stumbled, letting your steps be clumsy and uncoordinated. “I apologize, formal dances are... not my strength,” you whispered, pitching your voice to sound soft and fragile.

“It is quite alright,” Neteyam said, his grip on your waist firm and steady, easily correcting your forced clumsiness. “The feast is grand. Your people make a strong brew. Though, I find the forest outside your walls far more interesting.”

You stiffened slightly. “Oh?”

“Yes. It is full of... strange, ferocious creatures,” Neteyam continued, his voice dropping to a low, conversational tone as he maneuvered you through the crowd. “I ran into a pack of them near the waterfalls this morning. Miserable things. Many legs. Very fast.”

You couldn't help yourself. The hunter in you took the bait before your mind could stop it. “Those were Agtik,” you said, your voice losing its timid edge as your wide eyes looked up at his. “They don't hunt in packs unless their head is wounded. And they are apex predators. If you hit them in the hide, your arrow will just bounce off. You have to strike the eyes, or beneath the throat where the thick plates separate.”

Neteyam stopped dancing. He stared down at you, his golden eyes burning with an intense focus, and you froze, realizing you had spoken far too much.

“Is that so?” he murmured, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face as his fingers caressed the calluses on your fingers. “You seem to know a great deal about killing them...”

You quickly tore your hand from his, dropping your head back down. “I... I only know what the hunters say,” you lied breathlessly, stepping back into the crowd before he could press further.

The next morning, your mother burst into your sleeping alcove, her face flushed with excitement before the morning light even showed it. “Daughter... A betrothal has been struck. Neteyam has accepted the union. He wishes for you to return to the Omatikaya with them.”

You sat up in your woven sleeping mat, stunned. “What?!” you snapped carelessly, surprising your mother. You calmed down immediately. “That’s great...” you forced yourself to smile.

“I think he liked you last night, daughter. You were so prim and proper, a true woman of our lineage. You make me and your father proud, sweetheart,” she caressed your cheek.

You swallowed the dryness of your throat. You don't know what the man’s plan was... But he definitely didn’t like you because you were prim and proper. You looked down at your hands, hiding the calluses born from years of archery practice. Your initial shock had now faded, and a cold, calculating wave of relief washed over you. The Omatikaya. You’ve heard of their ways. In their clan, women were warriors. Neytiri rode into battle. If you went with them, you wouldn't have to hide in the shadows at dawn anymore. You could wield your bow. You could finally exist as more than what you were raised to be.

With newfound urgency, you helped your mother and sisters pack your things. When your mother turned her back, you swiftly retrieved your hidden longbow and quiver from where you had smuggled them into the yurt. You bound them tightly within your dark, heavy cloak, burying them at the absolute bottom of your deep leather travel box beneath layers of woven garments.

“I need to see Tarkul before we leave,” you muttered, heading for the exit.

“You are not permitted near the holding area,” your younger sister sneered, stepping into the yurt with her arms crossed, her eyes flashing with venom. “You should stop trying to see your lover. You are betrothed to the son of Toruk Makto now.”

“Tarkul is not my lover!” you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

“Please. You were going to run away with him yesterday,” she mocked, stepping closer. “If you hate this arrangement so much, why don't you just tell Father and back out? I can always replace you. I would gladly take your place beside Neteyam.”

“Armem, hold your tongue!” your mother’s voice barked from the entrance, sharp and commanding. “Neteyam agreed to this alliance because of Y/N. He would not accept a replacement if she backed out, and your father’s treaty would fall to ash.”

Armem huffed disdainfully, crossing her arms tighter. “Fine. But she was still ready to flee with another man. Who is to say she is even pure anymore? The Omatikaya might find they are receiving spoiled goods—”

“Armem!” your mother snapped, glaring at your sister.

“Do not speak of such nonsense,” you said coldly, staring your sister down. “Tarkul is a good friend of mine and I would not have you taint our friendship with your dirty mind.”

At dawn the next day, the Omatikaya delegation prepared to depart. You were allowed to ride your direhorse, your leather box secured to the pack beast behind you. Your parents stood at the gates of the village, offering stiff, formal nods of farewell, promising they would come for final mating ceremonies.

You didn't look back. You are leaving this clan, and those who believe in its sick ways can have the scraps that are left behind. You nudged your direhorse forward, and as the procession moved into the deep forest, a shadow fell alongside your mount. You looked up to see Neteyam riding his own direhorse beside yours. He looked at you, then down at the bulky, heavily wrapped leather box trailing behind you, a faint, amused glint in his golden eyes.

“Nice mount,“ he said jn a voice low enough so the others couldn't hear. “A lot of luggage, too, for a healer.”

You kept your eyes locked on the trail ahead, a small, defiant smirk playing on your lips. “A good healer always brings her most valuable tools, warrior.”

The journey to the Omatikaya territory took two days at most, a winding trek through ancient, massive trees that grew taller and wider than any you had ever seen in your home forest. When the delegation finally stopped in front of the largest tree you had laid your eyes on, you could barely breathe. Your lips parted as you looked up to its vast canopy.

“This is beautiful...” you murmured, craning your head to see all the huts perched on its thick branches.

“Do you have a fear of heights?” you heard a deep baritone speak and your head snapped to look at Neteyam.

He had already dismounted his direhorse and was now looking at you, his hand lazily holding his chest knife sheath. His head tilted as his eyes scanned your form on your mount before they settled on the beast. In the eyes of an outsider, like Jake and Neytiri who were now watching their son look at you as if you were the most interesting person in the bunch, this was just Neteyam staring.

But to you, it felt like he was trying to figure out where he had seen this beast. You quickly dismounted your direhorse, caressing its back as you cooed at it. “Are you excited to rest, boy? It was a long trek, I know, and you’ve gotten to rest some, but you’ve never travelled as far, haven’t you?”

Neteyam's head tilted slightly lower, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watched your interaction with the beast. “He looks sturdy enough,” he noted, his deep voice laced with amusement. “You didn't answer my question. Are you afraid of heights? Hometree is a long way up.”

“I think I can manage,” you replied softly, peering up at him through your lashes with a quick glance.

Before Neteyam could press further, Jake and Neytiri approached. Jake’s sharp eyes darted between you and the direhorse, before he gave you a welcoming nod.

“Welcome to the Omatikaya,” Jake said, his voice grounded. “It has been a long journey. Your mount will be tended to and Neteyam will show you where you can rest.”

Neytiri stayed silent, but her piercing gaze lingered on you, evaluating the way you carried yourself. She was not one to doubt her children’s decisions, especially those of her eldest son’s, but she believed that Neteyam was deciding too prematurely on this union. There were previous matches made that suited her son better... The daughters whose parents had fought alongside them during the Great War, and daughters of clans with excellent reputations.

She didn’t want to judge you based on your parents or your clan, but she thought it a bold proposition when your father pledged a daughter to her son. In all honesty, your father was at the losing end of this alliance. Your clan was the one that needed allies against aggressive clans who might challenge your strength, and your people had very little military power, given that your clan only trains men to be warriors and hunters.

She had never expected her son to agree to this, and though she saw great beauty in you, she did not think that was reason enough for him to make such a choice.

Neytiri’s scrutiny did not escape you. You have felt it even on the night of the feast, have seen it in her eyes whenever she watches you... And the weight of it felt heavy enough to compress the air in your lungs. Now that she was looking again, you offered a respectful dip of your head, but Neytiri merely nod her head slightly before turning her shoulder, her long woven cloak swaying behind her as she stepped up onto the massive roots of Hometree.

“Do not let my mother's stare unnerve you,” Neteyam murmured, stepping into your personal space so seamlessly that his tail brushed lightly against your hip.

“What stare, warrior?” you mumbled, looking at him with a schooled face.

You do not wish to acknowledge Neytiri’s apparent dislike of you. You are going to earn your place even if she looks at you as if I have already failed a test. You know you haven’t really failed yet, because if she truly disapproved, you wouldn't even be standing here right now.

Neteyam shook his head, an amused smile lingering on his lips. “Come, then. Let’s see what you can manage.”

You pushed your lips forward, matching his pace as everyone began the long, winding ascent into the heart of the great tree. Up ahead, Jake paused on a wide branch platform, looking back down at the two of you with a knowing understanding. He, better than anyone, knew what it was like to be an outsider standing under the heavy judgment of the people.

As you rounded the final bend of the spiral pathway, the quiet atmosphere of the lower trunks gave way to sudden burst of light and noise. Your lips parted as your eyes wandered around the surrounding kelku structures and the sheer scale of the place took your breath away again. It was vast, so open and vibrant that it was a staggering contrast to the dim, claustrophobic atmosphere of your birth clan.

Dozens of people paused in their daily routines, their eyes instantly locking onto you. A heavy murmur rippled through the crowd and it was obvious that they know what you came here for.

“Neteyam!” a high-pitched voice squealed.

Before you could fully process everything you are seeing, a blur of energy came hurtling down a nearby woven walkway. A little girl crashed straight into Neteyam’s side, wrapping her small arms around his waist. “You're back!” the girl cheered, her bright eyes quickly darting up to look at you with unabashed curiosity. “Is this her? Did you finally choose a wife?!”

Neteyam’s ears twitched with slight embarrassment as he gently pried his little sister off his hip, placing a grounding hand on her shoulder. “Tuk, mind your manners. She is our guest.”

He introduced you to the little girl who had a bright smile for you, and suddenly, you felt the welcoming warmth you didn’t know you were looking for. Tuk walked with you two when Neteyam led you to the small kelku you were assigned, it was tucked into a quiet, upper tier of the village.

As you settled in over the next few days, you quickly realized that your new betrothed was an incredibly important figure here. Neteyam, as the Olo'eyktan's firstborn, was also his father's second-in-command, deeply involved in the daily strategy, security, and leadership of the clan.

Honestly, you secretly celebrated this fact. You figured his high status meant he would be far too busy to pay much attention to you, leaving you plenty of free time to slip away, unpack your hidden longbow, and explore the surrounding wilderness on your own.

You were wrong.

Before the sun had even fully risen on your third morning, you pulled back the woven flap to find Neteyam standing there, the early dawn light catching the beads in his long braids.

Your brows furrowed. “What are you... doing here?” you started your question hard, but catching yourself, you quickly softened your voice.

“I came to show you around,” he told you, his voice low and his eyes holding that same perceptive, curious glint from the feast, causing your cheeks to burn unbidden.

The crease on your forehead deepened, once again annoyed at your reaction to him. You couldn't find a reason to say no, and frankly, you were eager to see the layout of the village. As he led you through the pathways, he dutifully showed you the areas where the weavers worked their intricate looms, the communal hearths where the cooks prepared the daily catch, and the shaded pavillions of the healers. You played your part, nodding submissively and murmuring soft, polite words of appreciation.

But your true nature betrayed you when he led you past the training grounds.

You froze, your eyes widening in absolute awe. In the center of the clearing, young girls were standing in neat rows, laughing and competing as they drew bows and aimed at distant targets. Further back, older women warriors, some scarred from battle, were casually conversing with male hunters, checking their gear as equals before setting out on a scout.

You stared, your breath catching in your throat. It was a sight stolen directly from your wildest, forbidden dreams.

Neteyam paused, watching your face carefully. He didn't miss the way your jaw slackened, or how your fingers twitched at your side, instinctively mimicking the grip of a bowstring. His head tilted, a quiet, knowing smile tugged at his lips, but he said nothing, and when you turned to him, your talons subtly showed with your furrowed brows and sharp gaze, pretending you were not that amazed to the reality of a world where women were allowed to fight.

The days bled into one another until the day of the mating ceremony arrived. True to their word, your parents and a small entourage from your clan arrived, their faces proud and grim, and somehow, you felt ashamed at this. You know, that for the Omatikaya, this match felt less like a joining of two proud people and more like a political rescue mission. Neteyam was a prize, the future Olo'eyktan of a legendary clan who fought and defeated the demons who tried to seize Eywa’eveng for themselves.

And your father merely offered you up to secure a shield of Omatikaya warriors for his vulnerable borders. It was a cause of wonder why Neteyam agreed at all. Even you don’t understand.

The ceremony took place deep within the glow of the Tree of Souls. Even their sacred tree was breathtaking, its luminous, cascading tendrils rivaling the ancient, holy tree of your own homeland. The Omatikaya people gathered in a massive circle, their voices rising in a powerful, harmonic chant alongside the drums and flutes.

You were dressed in the finest Omatikaya fibers, your torso adorned with a stunning, intricately beaded top made of iridescent beads. Your long hair had been styled into a complex array of braids that cascaded down your back. As the chanting reached its peak, you and Neteyam knelt together beneath the glowing tendrils of the tree.

Neteyam turned to you. His large, warm hand reached out to gently cup your jawline. He leaned in, his forehead pressing firmly against yours in a quiet act of intimacy that seemed to shut out the noise around you two. His other hand reached for his kuru, bringing it forward and you did the same. He didn't waste another second to intertwine your kuru with his, as though he had no hesitation at all. Your entire body jolted. A sudden, overwhelming surge of raw energy and emotion flooded your consciousness as your body, mind, and soul  locked into a deep, profound bond.

It was a sensory overload. There were visions, feelings, and memories rushing between you like a bursting dam.

Through the bond, you caught a sudden glimpse of his past. You felt the crushing weight of his responsibilities, the fierce love he had for his family, and the desperate, bloody battles against the sky demons. But then, a sharp, cold spike of terror and pain ripped through the connection.

You saw a flash of yellow light, heard the deafening screams of Neytiri, and felt the agonizing sensation of a bullet tearing through his chest.

He had nearly died.

Your eyes snapped open, your breath escaping you in a sharp, panicked huff. Blinded by a sudden, fierce protectiveness you didn't fully understand, your hand flew to his bare chest, your palm pressing flat against the scar on the left part of his chest.

Neteyam's eyes opened, burning darkly as he gazed down at your hand on his chest. He felt the sudden spike of your fear through the bond and somehow, he had forgotten what he felt during that moment. The only feeling that mattered was your fear for him and the surge of strength you sent him. Without a word, he tilted your head up, his lips catching yours in a deep kiss.

Your heart hammered as you kissed him back, your fingers sliding up the smooth skin of his chest, tracing the line of his collarbone up to his broad shoulder, letting him deepen the kiss and consume you. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his golden eyes were dark with an intense, possessive heat that made your breath hitch. The intimacy of the moment was so heavy, so entirely real, that you simply pressed your forehead back against his, trying to steady your racing pulse.

Neteyam leaned in and kissed you again, harder this time, causing your head to tilt back.

Slightly breathless, you pressed your palm firmly against his chest, gently pushing him back. “My parents are watching...” you reminded him in a hushed whisper, your cheeks flushing as you glanced toward the audience.

The Omatikaya had broken out into loud cheering and rhythmic clapping, celebrating the union. At the edge of the clearing, you caught sight of your father, his face tightly masked, while your mother looked on with a rigid smile.

The celebration back at Hometree was a raucous affair. Mo’at blessed the two of you with sacred oils, the healers chanting long prayers for fertility and strength before the feast and dancing truly began. You and Neteyam danced the mandatory mating dance, circled by couples who had been married for a very long time.

During a quiet moment in the festivities, your mother walked up to you and Neteyam to greet, but the purpose for it showed when she tried to excuse and pull you aside. Neteyam’s hold on your hand tightened, though, pulling you back to him. His eyes searched yours, and you didn't know where the sudden complete understanding of his subtle looks came from.

It was as if you have known him for so long now, you could practically read his mind. You squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile to let him know it’s okay, allowing your mother to pull you aside near the edge of the structure. “You must remember everything I taught you, daughter,” she murmured, her hands smoothing over your beaded top. “Serve him. Everything he wants to do, you will do. Tonight... You will submit to him. Do not anger a warrior of his status.”

You bit your lip, and before you could think of anything to reply, your father stepped up behind her, his posture imposing and cold. “You belong to a powerful line now. You must do with him as best as you can. Do not bring shame to my name by failing in your duties as a wife.”

You swallowed the bitter retort rising in your throat, lowering your eyes to play the part one last time. “I understand, Father.”

When you finally excused yourself to rejoin Neteyam, you found him standing near a pillar, carefully watching the interaction from afar. Your eyes snapped to Armem who was currently standing beside him, talking about something. As you approached, Armem looked at you, flashing a sly smile before she slipped away. You got distracted when you felt Neteyam’s hand reach out, his large fingers catching yours. You let him pull you to him, looking up into his face as his arms locked around you.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his eyes alert on your face.

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

His eyes were snagged behind you one last time, and you had to force yourself to not look back, knowing you’ll see your parents. Your head snapped to the dais when you heard a beautiful rhythm of the laid gongs being played. The youth who had been dancing stopped, parting into two rows to clear a path directly toward you and Neteyam, their faces splitting into knowing, mischievous grins.

“What is that?” you asked, turning back to your husband, completely bewildered by the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Neteyam glanced at you, and for the first time since you had met him, he looked entirely caught off guard. His hand came up to his face, his fingers scratching his temple awkwardly as a dark flush crept across his cheeks.

“Uh, it’s... it’s for the blessing of our kelku,” he mumbled, clearing his throat and refusing to meet your eyes for a split second.

You blinked, but before you could question his sudden bashfulness, some elder women bumped at your side and on his side were elder men. Your eyes tried to scan the crowd, but you only saw Jake Sully and Neytiri still sitting on the dais, laughing at the sight, and it was so rare it took some of your inhibitions away.

They chanted prayers for fertility and the realization hit you like a splash of cold water.

In your clan, this part was usually a cold, transactional event where the newly mated woman was practically marched to her husband's tent like a prize. But here, the Omatikaya made it a celebration of life and passion. The drumming and the crowd’s chants faded as you walked up a series of woven pathways leading to a cozy, elevated hut. Mo’at and a few elder women led the blessing of the small space.

When you two were finally left alone, your eyes snapped up to Neteyam who immediately moved to light the central hanging firepot. The kelku was modest, slightly larger than the one that had been your sanctuary in the past weeks. This was beautifully structured, just large enough for a newly married couple.

“If you have any preferences for how it should look, or if you need specific tapestries and mats,” Neteyam said, looking around, “we will go to the weavers tomorrow to get whatever you like.”

A huge smile cut through your lips, nodding. “Thank you. I would like that.”

Neteyam went quiet for a moment, his gaze turning intense as he stepped closer to you. The playful, amused glint from the feast was gone, replaced by something much deeper.

“I don’t know if you wanted me to know this... but when we did the bond...” His eyes locked onto yours, completely unblinking. “I felt it, Y/N. I felt your strong emotions against your parents... Your people. Your home. The anger you held.”

You blinked. He felt it. The same way you had seen his memories and felt all his emotions. Through the bond, both of your shields had dropped entirely. You wondered exactly how much he had seen.

“I understand why you might not have liked it there,” Neteyam continued quietly, taking a thoughtful step back. “But I thought... well, perhaps I was wrong—”

“What is it that you thought?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper as you stepped toward him, desperate to know what he had deduced.

Neteyam blinked, looking down at his hands before raising his head with a resolute expression. “It does not matter now. This is your home. My people are your people. My family is your family. Do you understand that? You do not have to think about everything you left behind.”

You tilted your head, studying the sincerity in his face, and gave a silent, genuine nod.

“And besides,” Neteyam mumbled, a sudden, boyish smirk breaking through his serious demeanor. “I have something for you.”

He turned and walked toward the shadowed back corner of the kelku, reaching behind a stack of woven mats. When he stepped back into the light, your lips parted in utter shock. In his hands, he held a beautifully crafted longbow, complete with a leather quiver full of freshly fletched arrows.

“I got it... just in case you wanted to learn how,” Neteyam said, his smile widening as he raised the bow, his eyes twinkling with a brilliant, knowing light. “And... I saw a flash of it in your memory during the bond. You were practicing this when you were young. You were doing it in secret.”

His conclusion depended solely on the emotions he felt through the bond, but he was right about that and a sudden, overwhelming surge of emotion overcame you. The sheer weight of your past, all the hiding and the fear of your father's wrath, shattered completely against the simple kindness of the man standing before you. He didn't want a submissive, silent maid. He saw your fire, and he was handing you the fuel.

Tears pooled in your eyes, blurring the sight of him. Giving up on every single act of restraint you had practiced since meeting him, you ate up the small distance between you and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.

Neteyam let out a soft, surprised breath before his large arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His hand moved up, his fingers gently caressing your long hair as he held you close.

“Thank you,” you sobbed softly into his shoulder, a genuine, radiant happiness blooming in your chest for the first time in your life. “Thank you, Neteyam...”

He held you tighter as he stroke your hair, his deep voice vibrating against your collarbone as he whispered, “I’ll be the one to teach you. We can start tomorrow.”

You bit your lip and nodded. You didn’t know how to tell him that you already know how to use this so you resolved to just tell him some other time. “Tomorrow?“ you chirped as you pulled back, your hands sliding down his arms until your fingers brushed against the smooth wood of the longbow still resting in his grip.

Gently, you took it from him and set it carefully beside your travel box, placing the weapon that symbolized your future next to the secrets of your past.

When you turned back to him, a soft, determined smile was on your face. The initial rush of your relief had quieted, leaving a heavy awareness of the space between you. The fire was casting a long, amber shadow across Neteyam’s broad shoulders and the sharp angles of his face, and your cheeks burned at how handsome he really was.

No man in your clan could have rivaled against him even if they tried. You stepped closer and his eyes dropped to the delicate river beads covering your chest, a sudden flicker of hesitation crossed his features. He remembered what he’d seen and felt through the bond. Your strong emotions against your parents and your people, the harsh words and suffocating rules. The rigid command that you must submit.

Neteyam reached out, his large hands gently catching yours, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. His eyes searched your face with an intense, fierce earnestness.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his deep baritone dropping to a rough whisper. “Listen to me. We do not need to do this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or any night soon if you are not ready.”

You blinked up at him, momentarily stunned by his restraint.

“Your parents no longer have a say on what you must do,” Neteyam continued, his jaw tightening slightly. “So, whatever yout mother told you or your father expects of you, none of that matters now. I want you to be comfortable here.”

A profound warmth bloomed in your heart, making your limbs all the way to your fingertips feel like it's made of jelly. The last lingering remnants of your defenses crumbled. This warrior, who had every right by your clan's rules to demand your compliance, was stepping back to give you a choice.

“Neteyam,” you spoke softly, your voice steady and entirely devoid of the timid persona you had faked for weeks.

You stepped into his space, breaking the distance he had purposefully created to give you room. You raised your hands, your palms pressing flat against his cheeks, your fingers sliding into the soft skin just beneath his ears. You tilted your head up, leaning in to press a lingering, warm kiss to the sharp line of his jaw, before moving to press another, softer kiss directly to his lips.

“I am not pressured,” you whispered against his mouth. You looked straight into his eyes, letting him see the fierce, unyielding certainty burning in your gaze. “And I am comfortable. I want to do this, Neteyam. I want you.”

A low, rumbling hum vibrated deep in his chest at your words. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside him. The carefully maintained restraint of a disciplined warrior giving way to the raw, possessive hunger of a man who had been captivated by you since the moment he saw you.

His hands moved to your waist, his grip tightening as he pulled you flush against his heat, his lips crashing down on yours in a deep, consuming kiss. You smiled against his lips, your fingers tangling in his long braids, the beads clicking softly. Slowly, he reached for the ties of your intricately beaded top and with a gentle pull, the garment loosened, and he caressed it off you, letting the beads click softly against the floor.

Neteyam’s breath hitched. His eyes darkened as his gaze swept over your naked upper body, tracking the elegant curve of your waist and the steady rise and fall of your chest. The raw worship in his stare made you feel powerful, completely untamed, and so excited.

His large hands slid up your ribs, his thumbs tracing the sides of your chest as he leaned down to press hot, branding kisses along your collarbone, making you gasp softly. Your hands scrambled for his own gear, your fingers working through the fastens of his intricate cummerbund. You pushed the heavy gear away, your palms immediately finding the broad, smooth expanse of his chest, tracing the jagged ridge of his scar once more before bringing your lips to his.

He gathered you into his arms, his mouth never leaving yours as his hands worked on the ties of your loincloth around your tail. He pushed the fabric off your hips, caressing your soft skin before fluidly guiding you down onto the thick, soft layers of the woven sleeping mat. The cool fiber of the mat met your back, but you barely felt it beneath the crushing, intoxicating weight of his body settling over yours.

You bit your your lip as he hovered over you, his thighs bracketing your hips. You pressed your palm against his muscled abdomen and when he took in a sharp breath through his gritted teeth, you smiled at him, moving your hand down to tug at the rim lf his loincloth.

His head tilted, “You want it off?” he asked, tugging at your hand when you nodded unabashed. “Take it off, then.”

You bit your lip before pulling yourself up, coming face to face with his chest as you did. You kissed the soft skin at the center of it before your hand circled to untie his loincloth. He lowered his head down, both of his hands cupping your face as he pressed a hard kiss on your lips.

His loincloth came off with a hiss and he gently pushed you back down on the soft mat, deepening the kiss. His hand moved from your jaw to the back of your head, gently wrapping around the thick braid of your kuru. He pulled away from the kiss to meet your eyes, bringing it between you before he grabbed his own, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation.

You moved his hands to bring the tendrils together, and the moment the tsaheylu sparked to life, a gasp caught in your throat. The overwhelming flood of energy from the Tree of Souls was replaced by something soft, intimate, and profoundly deep, like a warm wave lulling both of your consciousness into a singular, shared heartbeat.

Through the bond, you felt his absolute adoration for you. The radiant warm was so tangible you could almost touch it, and to see it reflected in his golden eyes made your eyes sting with hot tears. Neteyam let out a low growl of satisfaction through the bond, his lips catching yours again. The kiss was deeper now, amplified by the bond, every brush of his tongue and every stroke of his hands on your body echoing straight through your mind.

You kissed him back with equal fervor. His hand firmly pushed your thighs apart, fitting himself between them as his kisses trailed down your jaw and neck. You chuckled to hide a moan when his tongue traced a long stroke over the soft skin of your neck. He hummed against your skin and repeated the motion, making you arch your neck with a giggle.

He pulled back a little, his humored eyes staring into yours. “You're ticklish here...” he murmured, dipping his head to softly suck on that skin.

“Neteyam...” you pushed his head back and he chuckled, moving further down, kissing the side flesh of your breast.

You took in a sharp breath, arching your back and he enveloped its peak with the warmth of his mouth, earning him a loud moan from you. He squeezed your waist as he hummed, sucking at your flesh as he fondled the other one.

“You’re so soft, fuck...” he grunted as his lips nipped at your pebbled tip, licking his way to the other peak to give it the same attention.

You felt a warm liquid gush out of you, making you squirm under him. His hand moved from your waist to your center and the tickle caught you off guard that you bucked against his fingers. He groaned against your breast, his fingers caressing your velvety folds languidly.

“So wet...” he said in a low, gravelly voice, propping himself on one arm to hover over you again.

His knee pushed one of your thighs to the side to spread you wider as his fingers parted your folds exposing your slick heat to his gaze. He looked down at you, his gold of his eyes swallowed almost entirely by desire that made your pulse race. His face heated up when he stared down at your flush face and found your wide, trusting eyes looking back up at him. You could literally feel the heavy pulsing in the bond, telling you that he was feeling so much it was physically overwhelming him.

He bent his head, kissing you softly at fit, but it soon turned deep and hard. His mouth consumed yours, and under the cover of that distracting heat, he slid a single, long finger into your tight entrance. You gasped against his mouth, your body tightening, startled by the sudden penetration. Neteyam instantly stalled his hand. He pulled back just an inch, his eyes searching your face with fierce intensity, looking for any hint of pain or discomfort.

Instead of shrinking away, you leaned up and kissed him, your tongue boldly sliding against his to show him you were alright. A low growl vibrated in his throat, slipping a second finger into you. The sudden stretch made you bite his lower lip in a tight grip and he grunted, kissing you hard in retaliation as his fingers began to move in a slow, deep rhythm inside your slick heat.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and his other arm pulled your body completely flush against his muscled frame. The world narrowed down to the heavy friction in you and the overwhelming rush of his emotions pouring through the bond. Your kisses got sloppy and breathless as his fingers worked faster, making your hips tilt upward instinctively, your thighs quivering as the tension built.

Suddenly, Neteyam pulled his fingers away.

You let out a soft, frustrated whine, your hands immediately dropping to his wrist to pull his arm back down. “Neteyam...”

“I’ll give you something better,” he mumbled against your jaw, his breath hitching as he kissed his way down to your neck. You could feel his thick, rigid shaft resting heavily against your inner thigh, twitching with his own restrained need. He pulled back, his chest heaving as he looked down at you. “Are you sure about this, paskalin?”

You nodded quickly, reaching up to pull his head back down for a kiss, but Neteyam refused to budge. He held his ground, his face shifting into a deeply serious expression.

“I need your words,” he mumbled, his golden eyes locking onto yours.

You let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, your gaze turning just as serious, completely stripped of any games. “I am sure. I want to do this with you, Neteyam.”

The tension in his jaw broke, replaced by a dark satisfaction. He pressed a hard, bruising kiss on your lips, before his hands hooked firmly under your knees. He slowly pulled away, shifting his weight until he was kneeling directly between your spread legs.

Left exposed in the glow of the fire, you bit your lip, your eyes shamelessly tracing the powerful lines of his body. You reached a hand out, your palm sliding over his muscled abdomen again, feeling it contract beneath your fingertips. But you grew serious as soon as you felt the broad, blunt head of his shaft nudge against your warmth. You took a deep breath as he began to ease himself into you.

His thumb found the sensitive, swollen nub beneath your folds, softly and rhythmically caressing it to help him distact you. When your eyes rolled back and you helplessly bucked your hips upward to chase his thumb, Neteyam took the perfect opportunity to sink himself fully into you in one deep thrust.

A loud moan tore from your throat at the immense stretch of it, and at the exact same time, Neteyam let out a harsh, strained grunt through gritted teeth as your walls fiercely clamped and squeezed around him, resisting against his girth. He lowered his body down, desperate to soothe you with a kiss, but you were breathing in ragged, panicked breaths, your fingers digging tightly into the flesh of his back.

“Shh... baby, look at me. Breathe,” he hushed. Feeling how tightly you were gripping him, he made a slight movement to pull himself back out to give you relief, but you instantly wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, locking him in place. You hugged him closer, burying your face in his neck.

“You’re so big...” you mumbled.

Neteyam groaned, the sound vibrating against your chest as he wrapped his massive arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “Sorry...” he whispered roughly, entirely sincere.

A wet chuckle escaped your lips despite the ache. “Are you really saying sorry because you have a big di—”

“Only because it’s making you uncomfortable,” he cut you off, his voice thick with embarrassment as he pulled back slightly to look at you, his hand tenderly wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead.

“Nonsense,” you huffed, a small, defiant smirk returning to your face. “I remembered I will be pushing out babies anyway, you know? I can handle the father.”

Neteyam’s dark eyes instantly lit up, coupled with a soft smile cutting through his lips, and at the exact same moment, a massive, explosive jolt of pure, euphoric warmth shot straight through the bond, nearly making your head spin. The sheer joy of hearing you speak of a future with him, of carrying his children, completely broke the last of his restraint.

You smiled, welcoming the deep, possessive kiss he crashed down onto your lips. He began to move as he kissed you, pulling back almost entirely, before driving back into you with a firm intensity. You moaned against his lips, meeting him at his pace and welcoming every single hard, bruising thrust.

The pace grew frantic and the glow of the fire casted your joined shadows against the woven walls of your new home. His large shadow has completely enclosed you, your legs in the hair as he gripped the back of your knees tightly, pushing them up to angle you perfectly, driving deeper and deeper until he was bottoming out against your core.

The kelku was filled with slaps of your skin meeting, your ragged moans, and his deep, animalistic grunts. Through the bond, a sudden, blinding wave of heat erupted from him. Neteyam’s breath hitched, his muscles locking up hard as he let out a loud, guttural roar against your neck. He buried himself to the absolute hilt as he came deep inside you, the thick, hot rush of his seed filling your core.

Your head fell back, crying out as your own release crashed over you in violent waves, your walls squeezing him tightly. Neteyam collapsed softly over you, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck. Your own exhaustion lulled you to sleep just as Neteyam lifted his head to kiss you, making him huff in adoration as his eyes caressed your soft features.

“Out like a light,” he mumbled as he chuckled, kissing your cheek. “You’re so damn cute.”

The next day, the heavy, content silence of the morning was the first thing you registered, followed by the feeling of Neteyam’s large, muscular arm slung securely around your waist, pulling your body into a solid wall of heat that was his chest.

You shifted slightly and the gentle drag of your hair against his chin caused him to stir. Because the tsaheylu had remained connected through the night, the moment your consciousness cleared, a sudden, bright flare of pure excitement pulsed from his mind into yours. His eyes opened instantly.

“Good morning,” Neteyam murmured, his voice deep and rough from sleep. He pressed a warm kiss into your temple, his arm tightening around you. “How does your body feel?”

You took a long, dramatic breath and stretched your limbs, letting out a soft yawn that made his chest rumble with an adored chuckle. “A little sore,” you admitted, turning in his embrace to face him, a small, defiant spark in your eyes. “But I am still ready for the day. You promised me archery training.”

Neteyam smiled, his eyes sweeping over your face as he pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck. “Archery can wait. The forest isn't going anywhere. Let's just stay here today.”

“We can't,” you laughed softly. Right on cue, the ring of the communal bells echoed through the upper branches of Hometree. “See? We have to go.”

“They will understand if we are late,” Neteyam mumbled against your skin, his hands lazily tracing the curve of your waist. “We are newly married. Everyone knows we were... occupied.”

Your cheeks instantly burned hot. “Neteyam!” You reached down and pinched his arm, hard enough to make him grunt. “That is all the more reason we must show up on time! I have a reputation to build here, and I will not have everyone looking at me knowing why we slept in.”

“Baby, I hate to break it to you,” he chuckled, propping himself up on an elbow, his long finger caressing the base of your throat, “but they are going to know anyway.”

Your fingers touched your neck, your eyes snapping up to him in question. “What?”

His finger trailed down to your bare chest and you gazed down, finding a distinctly tender purpling spot right above the swell on your left breast. You glared up at him, your hand raising to pinch him again, but Neteyam quickly raised his hands in retreat, a boyish, unrepentant smirk on his lips. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It’s just that... you’re so soft—”

“Well, it looks like a bug bite,” you pushed your lips forward, touching the marks and examining it, before peering up at him. “By a big bug.”

He chuckled, pulling you back to him. “Do we have an issue with big stuff?” he mumbled, his lips brushing your neck.

You shrink away from the ticklishness of his lips, moving to get your top instead. Despite his teasing, Neteyam helped you prepare by grabbing your loincloth and helping you with it. At your stubborn behest, the two of you walked down to the communal clearing for breakfast. Neteyam carried his heavy warrior's bow, but slung over his other shoulder was the beautifully crafted longbow he had gifted you, along with both of your quivers

You thought walking into the clearing would make you feel embarrassed, especially with how the youth started nudging each other and how the older hunters gave Neteyam teasing looks, but you felt nothing but pride as he held your hand as he led you to the high dais where his family sits. Tuk grinned and waved at you, while Kiri offered a teasing a smile.

You pursed your lips and kept your gaze low in front of your parents who are now conversing quietly with Jake and Neytiri, looking entirely out of place in the vibrant, loud atmosphere. Once breakfast concluded, you paid respects to both sets of parents, and you startled a little when Neytiri gently squeezed your hand, making you snap your eyes up to her.

She smiled, “You looked radiant, daughter.”

You blinked, throwing a quick sharp glance at Neteyam who chuckled before seriously nodding at Neytiri. “Thank you...” you mumbled.

As you stand there, your father’s sharp eyes instantly dropped to the two bows slung over Neteyam’s shoulder, then to the quiver of arrows resting against your hip. His expression hardened into a mask of pure, rigid distaste.

“Neteyam,” your father spoke, his voice carrying a heavy weight as he pointed at the weapons. “I hope you are not teaching my daughter that. Weapons do not belong in the hands of a chief's daughter.”

The air around the dais seemed to drop in temperature. Your mother looked at you with the same piercing gaze your sister was giving you, as though you were doing something so embarrassing, while Neytiri’s side eye dropped a temperature as it locked onto your father. Meanwhile, Jake sat back comfortably in his seat, waiting to see how his son would handle this.

You felt a familiar, cold instinct to shrink back, but before the fear could even take root, Neteyam stepped slightly in front of you, offering your father a calm, polite smile.

“That is exactly what I intend to do, Olo'eyktan,” Neteyam replied, his tone grounded yet carrying the absolute firmness of a future leader. “My wife is now the woman of an Omatikaya warrior. She is Omatikaya as much as I am. And in this clan, our women are trained in archery much like the next guy.“

Your father’s face went entirely pale, but his jaw eventually tightened, utterly paralyzed by the younger warrior's sheer insolence. In your birth clan, no young man would ever dare speak to the Olo’eyktan this way, but here, Neteyam answered only to Toruk Makto. You pursed your lips as you felt warmth spread in your chest, making you squeeze Neteyam’s hand.

Seeing her husband silenced, your mother stepped in, “And you, daughter? Do you agree to this? Is this what you want?”

You looked at your mother, then at your father, and for the first time in your life, you didn't feel the need to lie. You took a step forward, aligning your shoulder perfectly with Neteyam’s.

“I am a wife of the Omatikaya now, Mother,” you said as softly as you could, it sounded like a mock in your own ears, but your parents won’t know that. “I will listen to the will of my husband, and I will do my absolute best to learn under him.”

You chose your words wisely, ensuring that the very obedience they had drilled into you since childhood was what’s staring back at them now. Your parents were left speechless, knowing they would sound like hypocrites to command you otherwise. You are a mated woman now, and in their eyes, your husband’s words hold more sway than their own.

Neteyam didn't give them a chance to recover. He gave a respectful, brief nod to his own parents, ignoring the faint, amused smirk playing on Jake Sully's lips. “If there is nothing else, we will take our leave.”

As he turned and led you away from the dais, his large hand snaked around your waist, pulling you tightly against his side as you walked down the winding ramp.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered sensually, “You did well, baby. And there is indeed a lot of training under me.”

You blinked, your cheeks burning when you remembered last night. Once you were down the Hometree, Neteyam led you deep into a secluded clearing a mile away from Hometree, a training ground he had clearly set up just for you. At the far end of the clearing, several woven targets hung on trees.

“Alright,” Neteyam said, handing you your new bow. “Let me see your basics, baby.” He stepped behind you, his chest pressing against your back as his large hands guided your arms up.

You swallowed hard. This was the dangerous part. You had to play the part of a beginner. You had to act like you didn't know how to balance your weight, or how to gauge the wind. You pulled an arrow from your quiver, deliberately letting your fingers fumble slightly with the notch. You pulled the string back, purposely letting your left elbow sag, trying to remember what it was like when you were just learning.

“Like this?” you asked.

Neteyam didn't answer right away, his hands moving from your arms down to your waist, his thumbs tracing the alignment of your hips before he corrected your left elbow. “Yes. Try shooting,”

You gritted your teeth and pulled from your chest, keeping your elbow low again before shooting. Your arrow found its mark on the third tree, exactly as you intended. Neteyam’s hands tightened on your waist, lazily caressing.

“You know how to do this,” he whispered, low and entirely certain.

Your heart violently jumped into your throat, your hand gripping the bow tighter. He has a keen eye and it was your fault that you underestimated that. “I trained,” you mumbled.

“You’re not a beginner,” he replied, his head dipping low so his breath fanned across your neck, right over a dark mark he had left there.

Your lips twisted. “No, I’m not,” you said in a low voice, your head turning to him.

His eyes darkened as it looks through yours. His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him. “Look at the target... and show me who you really are.”

You held his dark, intense gaze for a second before turning back to the targets. With a fluid, practiced motion, you reached into your quiver and nocked a fresh arrow, planting you feet firmly into the ground. You aligned your shoulders and pulled the heavy string back past your chest in one smooth motion.

The arrow flew like a bolt of lightning across the clearing, passing the first two targets and striking the farthest one dead in the center. The woven target shuddered under the sheer force of the impact. Behind you, Neteyam watched with fascinated, wide eyes, a sudden rush of heat flooding his chest. You looked incredibly hot standing there, your posture unyielding and graceful.

He had always known you had fire in you. He had found you beautiful from the moment he first laid eyes on you, but seeing you like this, unapologetically in your element, made a massive swell of pride erupt through him. He had witnessed first hand what your parents were like, what your clan was like, and though he had initially thought that you were their perfect, submissive daughter, even then, he’d felt this spark in you.

It was only when you’d become one through the bond that he’d known the staggering depth of your resentment and anger toward your parents and your people. He had been determined to free you from their shackles and teach you whatever you wanted to know, but with this marksmanship you’re showing, you were already better than him and half the hunters in his clan, because you had achieved this excellence while being completely barred from it.

“Where did you learn?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer, suddenly realizing that a skill this sharp meant someone had to have taught you.

You turned to him, a genuine, fond smile breaking across your face. “My friend. Tarluk.”

The moment the name left your lips, Neteyam’s swelling heart staggered. A sharp, blinding spike of jealousy flared in his chest. Your sister had mentioned that name when she tried to corner him last night, but he was so worried about you, he’d paid little attention to it. Neteyam was never a jealous man, mostly because he had never been a lover before, and he had certainly never cared for anyone as fiercely as he cared for you. So, this sudden, possessive green monster rearing its head in his mind felt completely bizarre and unsettling.

“Tarluk...” he echoed, his jaw tightening slightly.

“Yes. He is a warrior back in my clan,” you said, your voice softening, turning mellow and tinged with a heavy layer of guilt. “He taught me everything he knows. And he is... imprisoned right now. That is how I repaid every bit of help he gave me.”

Some of his jealousy instantly evaporated, replaced by immediate concern. He smoothed his features, calming his racing heart. “Imprisoned why?”

“He tried to help me escape... on the very day the Omatikaya arrived,” you mumbled, looking down at your bow. “I didn't know my father was going to pledge me to you. In my clan, we have no say in who we mate with. My friends are alright with that life... but I was terrified. I tried to run away.” You stopped, swallowing the lump in your throat before looking up at him with soulful, vulnerable eyes.

Neteyam stared down at you, his heart beating incredibly fast against his ribs as he traced the absolute trust written across your features. “And... are you still scared?”

You smiled softly, the warmth in your eyes answering him before you even shook your head. “No... I am not scared.”

A heavy, breathless huff of relief left his lungs. The tension completely drained from his body as he melted into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. He leaned down, pressing a deep, fiercely reassuring kiss to your lips. “You have nothing to be scared of, baby. Not here, and not as long as I am drawing breath. I will protect you from them. From everything.”

You smiled against his mouth, nodding against his chest. “There is something I want to show you once we are back home.”

You spent the next couple of hours in the clearing, completely shedding your facade. You showed him the extent of what you know, so he could gauge exactly what else he can teach you. By the time you walked back to Hometree, you were holding his hand, literally skipping cutely along the forest path, your old worries entirely forgotten. Neteyam watched you, a soft, lovesick smile on his face. Just as the two of you were about to break through the thick brush leading into the main clearing of Hometree, he caught your waist, pulling you back into the shadows for one more loving, deep kiss.

High above, standing on an empty platform, Neytiri stood beside Jake. She watched the two of you, a rare, incredibly soft smile touching her lips as she leaned into her husband's side, happy to see her eldest son so completely besotted.

Once you and Neteyam slipped back into the privacy of your kelku, you walked over to your leather travel box. You reached inside and pulled out the old longbow and the weathered quivers you had brought from your home clan, the ones you had kept hidden away.

Neteyam walked over, but the moment his golden eyes landed on the unique, intricate fletching of the arrows inside the quiver, he froze. His mind flashed back to the waterfalls near your clan’s lands, to the cloaked woman who had saved his life from an Agtik pack before disappearing into the mist just as he was gathering his wit.

He thought he was simply being irrational. He thought of the cloaked lady several times over the past moon, but his mind kept giving the lady your face. Even when he first saw you, he had a strong feeling that he knew whom he was looking at... It had surprised him, just as it had surprised his parents, when he decided to agree on your father’s plea for a betrothal before he had even heard the terms.

He was never one to decide on anything without thinking it through, but on this one, he had felt so certain it startled him.

“I knew it,” he breathed, his voice dropping to a whisper of absolute awe. “It was you.” He looked from the arrows to your face, his eyes wide. “The cloaked lady from the waterfalls... it was you.”

You offered him a small, sheepish smile. “You knew how?”

Neteyam let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh. “I was being imaginative, perhaps. But whenever I remember the lady at the waterfalls, I see your face. I thought it was just my mind reminding me that I am betrothed, but I almost felt certain it was you.”

You chuckled. “I wasn’t going to tell you... But I don’t want to hide anything from you,” you pushed your lips forward.

He felt like he was being allowed to walk through a secret passage leading into a room full of wonders. He had met you, had been saved by you, before he even officially knew your name. “Thank you for telling me,” he mumbled, pulling you to press a kiss on your temple.

Lo’ak had long found a mate among the Metkayina of Awa’atlu, and Neteyam had always wondered how easy it had been for him, that it had taken only one look. But now he understands. He understands what Jake and Lo’ak were talking about. You will see her and you will know. Thanking Eywa for the sheer providence and the incredible luck of hand she had given him would never be enough.

You were everything he had waited for.

A few days later, you watched your parents, your sister, and their rigid entourage finally prepare to leave the Omatikaya and was surprised to feel absolutely no sadness. Standing beside Neteyam as their direhorses turned back toward the woods, the only thing filling your chest was a profound, liberating sense of relief. You could hardly wait for the dust of their departure to settle.

As the days and weeks melted into moons, you and Neteyam fell into a beautiful, seamless routine.

Every morning, he would wake up before the dawn, his stolen kisses on your skin occasionally waking up up, but most times, he could successfully slip out for early border patrols without waking you up. And then, he would return hours later, waking you up with soft kisses before you both headed down for the communal breakfast.

Afterward, the two of you would escape to your private training ground. Because your archery and horsemanship were already flawless, Neteyam decided to teach you hand-to-hand combat skills instead. This was unknown to you. The Na’vis rarely fight using their bodies in close combats, but he explained that they were necessary skills taught by his father.

You took to it with a fierce, untamed focus, loving the feel of your body dodging his heavy frames, laughing whenever he used his weight to pin you to the soft grass, only to kiss you breathless as a penalty for losing.

By midday, when Neteyam had to report for scouting duties with his father, you spend your afternoons with Kiri and Mo'at, sitting in the quiet healing pavilion, learning the properties of healing roots, orchid poultices, and the spiritual songs of the Omatikaya. You found learning here much easier than learning under the rigid, highly paternalistic guidance of your mother.

Best of all, Mo’at listens to the healing knowledge and spiritual routines unique to your clan. These peaceful afternoons of study would bleed into quiet evenings that makes you feel that you were finally doing things to belong and not to conform.

When the next dawn broke, the rhythmic chirping outside filtered into the kelku, but you were already stirred by the familiar sensation of warm, soft lips pressing against your shoulder. A slow, lazy smile spread across your face, keeping your eyes closed.

When he sensed the shift in your consciousness, he lifted his head, his golden eyes dark and hooded with adoration. You felt his lips against yours and you kissed him back eagerly, your fingers tangling in the braids at the nape of his neck, pulling him flush against you. His large arm wrapped around you, almost lifting you to him as he deepened the kiss.

You broke away from the kiss to breathe, so his lips found the the sensitive column of your neck, trailing down over the slope of your breasts, lingering on your stomach, and finally, dipping lower. The past few moons had revealed this side of him, an obsession with your pleasure that bordered on reverent. In the beginning, you had been shy, overwhelmed by the fact that he would dare put his mouth there and the raw, uninhibited way he does so, but you had learned to love it.

Thus, you spread your legs, arching your back off the sleeping mat as he lapped at you like a man starved. His tongue and lips found your sensitive nub, sucking and licking until you couldn't help your moans, a sound that started low in your throat and grew sharper as the rhythm took you. You were biting your lip, trying to stay quiet, but it was impossible, especially when he presses his tongue flat on you.

When you finally came, the release was a shuddering wave that made you gasp, and he licked every lingering essence as if this were the desert and you were a well of water. You lay there, sweaty and weak, your breath coming in ragged hitches as he moved back up your body, his mouth settling on the pebbled tips of your breasts, suckling with a possessive intensity. He finally pulled away to press a loving kiss to your forehead, his eyes searching yours.

Your hand instinctively dropped, grabbing at the heavy ridge of his crotch, feeling the sheer hardness of him. You let out a soft, mewling sound, squeezing him, and he let out a harsh, guttural grunt, closing his eyes for a moment to fight for control.

“I'll save this reward for later, baby,” he growled, his voice gravelly. “If I start now, I'll never make it to patrol.”

True to his word, he left for patrol, and you managed to drift back into a light, contented sleep. You only woke again when the sun dappled through the kelku, with the rustle of his footsteps coming in not long after. You looked up and smiled at him, pulling the covers off you and he groaned at the sight of you still naked.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he said as he lowered himself down, leaning over you.

You pressed a hand against his chest, caressing his skin damp with the morning's efforts. You craned your neck to kiss him, and his hand slid over your waist. “I’ve been sleeping in too much lately. I need to train myself to wake up early again,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I’ll ask Mo’at for spice tea,” he responded, his head rearing back a little, his eyes fixed on yours seriously. “But you could always just sleep in. You’ve been working so hard with the healers...”

You chuckled, “You’re so serious,” you nuzzled your nose against his. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just adjusting.” You pulled him down for a kiss.

He let you kiss him, but he pulled back again, “But do tell me if it persists—”

“Yes, yes, I will. Now, kiss...” you cut him off, pulling him close again and he kissed you with more intent now.

Just as the heat grew heavier, the bells for the communal meal echoed through Hometree. Neteyam groaned, dropping his forehead against your collarbone, his frustration vibrating through his chest. You laughed, a bright sound that made his heart flutter. You pushed against his shoulders, and he knew better than to argue when it came to your reputation, he knew how much you valued being seen as a proper member of the clan and appearances during meals were your top priority.

You pouted at him, “It’s because you talk too much,” you said, grabbing your top.

His head dramatically fell back on the soft mat and you chuckled, your eyes dropping to his hard-on tenting at his crotch, clearly ready to burst but he knows it would have to wait. Almost immediately after the meal, you both headed to your the training grounds.

Moons of practice had transformed your hand-to-hand combat skills, proving to him just how fast you learn. But today, the training was secondary. You sat between his legs by a large root, finding a comfortable patch of moss to sit on. He broke open some sweet, nectar-filled fruits, sharing them as you talked about your childhoods: the lonely, quiet years of your past versus the vibrant, chaotic, and loud upbringing he had experienced with his siblings.

“Lo'ak was a menace,” Neteyam chuckled, shaking his head as he bit into a yovo. “When he was no bigger than Tuk is now, he decided he wanted to ride a syaksyuk. He climbed all the way to the highest branch of a tall tree, got stuck, and started crying because a mama syaksyuk started throwing sour berries at his head. I had to climb up and drag him down by his loincloth while Dad watched from below, just laughing.”

You laughed loudly, remembering the photo you saw of them as children. It allowed you to imagine a tiny, stubborn Lo'ak and an annoyed little Neteyam playing vividly in your mind. “You must have been such a serious little boy.”

“I had to be,” he smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “With Lo'ak trying to drown himself in puddles and Kiri talking to the plants, someone had to keep them alive. Kiri used to bury my daggers in the dirt because she said it ‘wanted to sleep.’ I spent half my childhood digging up the forest floor looking for my weapons.”

Your smile turned a bit wistful, a faint pang of envy twisting in your chest. “It sounds beautiful.” Your eyes dropped to the fruit in your hands, thinking of his youngest sister. “I feel a little bad for little Tuk, though. She didn't get to experience all of that chaos with you guys being so small together.”

“She makes up for it by being twice as loud,” Neteyam reasoned, his hand caressing a stray hair off your face.

You sighed softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the woven basket. “My sister... She was so much like my mother. I can’t remember a time we were ever... close,” you shrugged.

Armem is just one of the many women in your clan who think that everything about what is taught is right. The rules, the silence, the way women are expected to bend. She excelled at obeying everything and she knew you were just pretending, she just didn't know how to catch you in the act.

Neteyam’s arm pulled you tightly against him, his chest on your back rumbling with a deep, protective hum, his fingers sprawling over your hip.

“The night of our mating feast, moons ago,” he began softly, his voice dropping into a serious register, “I heard of Tarluk before you ever told me his name. Your sister told me about him when you were off talking to your parents.”

You froze, tilting your head up to look at him. “She did?”

“Yes,” Neteyam murmured, his jaw tightening at the memory. “She told me that you had run away with a warrior before the Omatikaya arrived. She told me Tarluk was your lover, and that you were coming to my bed dishonored.”

A heavy, mellow sadness settled over you. You rose slightly, propping your palm against his muscled chest to look directly into his eyes. “I can't believe she would tell you about it that way... Neteyam, Tarluk is not my lover.”

His large hand cupped your jaw with immense gentleness. His thumb stroked over your cheekbone, his gaze steady and unyielding.

“I know, baby,” he whispered fiercely. “I believe you. I did not believe her one bit. I told her she should have been more loyal to you.”

You let out a long sigh, the final ghost of your past clan fading into the forest air. You pressed your palm flat against the heavy beat of his heart. “I never want to go back to my clan again... I never want to see that forest again.”

A slow, devastatingly handsome smirk grew on his face. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you a fraction closer. “You can't go nowhere without me now, baby,” he whispered. “You'll never go back there. This is your home. You belong to the Omatikaya. You belong to me.”

Your heart swelled so painfully with love that you had to look away to catch your breath. You smiled, deliberately breaking the heavy romantic tension by lifting a piece of the sweet fruit to your mouth, just as he was leaning in to kiss you.

Neteyam groaned, his eyes narrowing in playful frustration with that block you did. You chuckled at his reaction, turning the piece of fruit and pressing it against his lips instead. He paused, watching you with an intense, heated gaze, before he bit into it, chewing slowly without ever breaking eye contact.

You raised a brow, completely untamed and bold under his stare. Leaning forward, you darted your tongue out, catching a single drop of sweet juice that was rolling down his chin. His breath hitched, his hands instantly gripping your waist as a dark, possessive hunger flared in his eyes.

“You are testing me today,” he growled softly, his hands moving to your hips to maneuver you on his lap.

You caught his hand. “I have a question,” you asked as you pressed your back against his chest.

“Hm?” He buried his face on your neck.

“Why do you like doing...” you trailed, gesturing vaguely between your legs, your voice teasing.

“Doing?” he asked, his hand going where you gestured.

Your hips bucked, grabbing his hand. “I mean, your mouth. On there.”

Neteyam paused, angling his head to look at you with a slow, amused smirk spreading across his face. “Is that really a question?” he asked as if it sounded like a joke.

“It’s an observation,” you barked but softly, cutely showing him your fangs. “It seems a bit... obsessive.”

He laughed, a rich, deep sound that made your skin tingle. “It’s like asking me if I love eating my favorite fruit,” he said, his gaze dropping to your lips. “It’s what I crave. It’s what sustains me.”

“That’s dramatic. It’s not food,” you frowned.

His hug around you tightened as if he were suddenly getting cuteness aggression. “I love it, anyway. And think of my cock. You said you wanted to do things with it, right?“

You nodded, your pulse quickening a sudden, visceral thrill run through you at the thought of finally exploring that part of him.

“Suppose I want you to kiss it,” he asked, his voice dropping to a low, challenging hum. “Would you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, licking your lips.

He raised a brow, reaching into the basket and pulling out an utumauti. He peeled it, the sweet, earthy scent filling the air, and held it out to you. You stared at it, and instinctively, you moved your head to bite into it, but he gently moved it away, laughing at your eagerness.

“No,” he said softly, his voice thick. “Put it in your mouth.”

You blinked, your breath hitching. You looked from the fruit to his eyes, then nodded, opening your mouth wide. You took the fruit between your lips, your tongue darting out to taste the sweet nectar before you wrapped your mouth around it, mimicking the depth he’d asked for.

He groaned, the sound raw and pained, as he watched you.

“Would you do that to me?” he asked again, his eyes searching yours for hesitation.

You pulled back, your heart hammering against your ribs. You looked at his loincloth, imagining the warmth and the power of him, and a desperate, hungry desire to give him that same level of pleasure he gave you bloomed in you

“I want to,” you breathed. Your tail, usually calm, began to wag behind you, a soft thump against the moss.

Neteyam let out a shaky breath, his expression softening into one of tender love. He leaned forward and kissed you, his hands trembling slightly as they went to the ties of his loincloth, stripping it away completely. Your breath caught in your throat. You had felt the sheer, heavy mold of him a hundred times over in the past moons, the thick, rigid heat that had driven you mad against your thighs and deep within your core, but seeing him completely bare in the daylight was breathtaking.

You pulled yourself up onto your knees between his legs, your hand reaching out, your fingers trembling slightly as you wrapped them around the base of his thick length. Neteyam drew in a harsh, ragged gasp as your thumb stroked up the underside of his shaft.

“Baby...” he choked out, his fists clenching into the dirt at his sides.

You looked up at him through your lashes, completely captivated by the power you held over such a powerful warrior. Slowly, you leaned forward, your lips parting as you pressed a soft, wet kiss to the very tip of him, catching the sweet, clear bead of his arousal on your tongue.

Neteyam let out a low, guttural roar that echoed into the canopy, his hips instinctively jerking forward at the agonizingly perfect warmth. You smiled against his hot skin, opening your mouth wider, and began to show him exactly how much you wanted to pleasure him.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of his pleasure, sliding your lips along the thick length of his shaft. Every dip of your head earned you a ragged, breathless praise from Neteyam, his fingers lightly tangling in your hair as he guided your pace. By the time your mouth filled with the hot, heavy rush of his release, his chest was heaving as a broken groan ripped from his throat. He pulled you up into a tight, crushing hug immediately after, holding you against his racing heart.

“Fuck...” he mumbled as he let out a broken chuckle. “You can’t do that again... I came so fast it’s embarrassing.”

You glared at him, but a naughty smile still cut through your lips. “But what if it’s my favorite now, too?”

The peaceful moons that followed seemed to blur into a soft, golden dream. You have now settled comfortably in the Omatikaya, especially among the children, that you spend some afternoons in the shade of the lower branches, watching Tuk and a few other children.

Tuk was in the middle of chasing a friend when she suddenly spun around, her tail swishing with sudden curiosity. “Y/N, are you pregnant?” she asked out of nowhere, her big eyes wide with innocent hope.

You blinked, a fierce blush instantly crawling up your neck. “No, Tuk, I am not.”

“Aww,” she pouted, kicking a soft patch of moss. “I thought you were. Leera’s mom is pregnant. She’ll have a playmate very soon!”

You watched her sprint away, but her words lingered in your mind like a persistent echo. You weren't exactly worried, but as the days passed, you couldn't help but wonder. It wasn't for a lack of trying; you and Neteyam were at it every single day, his possessive hunger never waning, yet your body remained unchanged.

To soothe your restless thoughts, you took up weaving again, a craft you deeply missed and hadn't practiced much since leaving your clan. Sitting alone in the kelku, your fingers worked mechanically, interlacing thick, soft fibers into a structured, sturdy pattern.

You were just finishing a section when the woven flap rustled. Neteyam stepped inside, his shoulders tight with a lingering trace of stress from a long council meeting. The moment his golden eyes landed on you, however, the tension visibly melted from his face.

Seeing the lingering exhaustion in his posture, you immediately dropped the what you were doing and stood up, reaching out to guide him down to the sleeping mat. Your fingers firmly moved on the tight knots in his shoulders, applying a soothing pressure to calm him down.

Neteyam let out a long, shuddering sigh, tilting his head back against your stomach. “What were you weaving, baby?”

“I am trying to weave a baby wrap,” you murmured softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “But do not get too excited yet. I am not with child. I am just... preparing.”

A soft, boyish smile cut through his tired features, and his lips pushed forward, pressing a tender kiss into your temple.

“What is wrong?” you asked, your fingers slowing their movement on his shoulders. “You look heavy.”

“Nothing you need to worry about, baby,” he responded smoothly, reaching up to squeeze your hand. “Just a tense council meeting. Some border disputes. It is fine.”

In the weeks that followed, however, you realized it wasn't entirely fine. The reality of clan infighting across Eywa’eveng was beginning to seep into the edges of the Omatikaya. Yet, the Omatikaya were almost too chill about it, confident in their strength. You only noticed the subtle shifts: the increased frequency of hunters and warriors moving in and out of the boundaries, and the way Neteyam constantly seemed on edge.

The breaking point arrived on a stormy afternoon.

Shouts echoed from the lower canopy, frantic and laced with a terror you had never heard from the Omatikaya before. You rushed down to the lower platforms, your breath catching in your throat as a party of warriors moved through the crowd. They were carrying several severely wounded hunters.

And in the center of the frantic group, carried on a human-made stretcher, was Neteyam.

He was barely conscious, his skin a pale, sickly blue, his chest heavily stained with a thick, dark smear of blood. Your breath was knocked out of your chest as a suffocating, icy fear instantly seized your heart, dragging your mind back to the terrifying vision you had seen in his memory. Jake and Neytiri pushed through the crowd, their faces pale with panic. But as the healers began to move Neteyam toward the human biolab for emergency treatment, Neytiri suddenly stopped. Her fierce, golden eyes snapped to you standing in the crowd.

Before you could move, she lunged forward, her hand clamping onto your forearm in a brutal, iron grip.

“Did you know about this?” she demanded, her voice shaking, cold with an explosive anger.

“What?” your voice shook, your eyes wide with shock and confusion.

“Your people betrayed us!” Neytiri hissed, her fangs fully bared, her face inches from yours. “Your father shot Neteyam! He ambushed our patrol at the border! I knew this alliance would bring nothing good. My son dove into this headfirst, not even thinking, for whatever petty reason—!”

“Mama! Don't get mad at Y/N, please!“ Tuk screamed, sprinting through the crowd and throwing her small arms around Neytiri’s hips, crying.

Jake came rushing back out of the biolab doors, his eyes wide as he realized Neytiri hadn't followed the stretcher inside.

“Neytiri,” Jake called, his voice booming as he grabbed her elbow, pulling her away from you. He looked at your pale, trembling form, his expression turning into one of profound alarm. “Jesus, baby, what did you tell her?”

Neytiri let out a sharp, ragged breath, her chest heaving as she finally ripped her gaze from yours, staggering on her steps before walking away and going into the biolab.

Jake turned to you, his voice urgent but grounded. “Go inside, Y/N. Go see him. He’s alright, but you need to be in there.” He looked down at his youngest daughter. “Tuk, stay with her.”

You couldn't move. Your legs felt like lead, your ears ringing with the horrific revelation. Your father had shot him. The treaty of alliance, the marriage, the peace, it had all been a calculated deception to lower the Omatikaya's guard against other clans who wished to bring it down.

Tuk buried her face into your stomach, her little shoulders shaking with violent sobs. The sight of her grief broke the paralysis holding you. You slowly knelt on the damp wooden platform, pulling the little girl into a tight embrace, murmuring soft, comforting words against her hair until her crying began to slow into quiet whimpers.

Once she quieted down, you pulled back slightly, cupping her small face in your hands. You forced your voice to sound steady, invoking the very strength Neteyam always saw in you.

“Tuk, listen to me,” you said, your eyes locking onto hers with absolute seriousness. “Your braveness is needed right now. The Omatikaya is in chaos, and your brother needs a warrior to guard him. I need you to stay right here, by the laboratory doors, and make sure no one enters who shouldn't. Can you do that for me?”

Tuk sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, her small jaw tightening with a sudden, fierce determination. She nodded firmly. “I will guard him, Y/N.”

“Good girl,” you whispered, kissing her forehead.

You stood up, turning away from the laboratory. You didn't walk inside. Instead, you turned on your heel and moved swiftly, back up the winding ramps toward your kelku. The moment you stepped past the woven flap, the dam broke. Tears of unadulterated fear, pain, and burning rage spilled over your cheeks, hot and furious. You couldn’t even sob or wail. You wanted to be there for Neteyam.

Hold his hand and give him strength. But what you were about to do cannot wait. You moved with a cold, terrifying precision born of a lifetime of faking compliance.

You walked straight to the weapon rack. You gripped the smooth, dark wood of your old longbow and slung the weathered quiver over your shoulder, checking the heavy, sharp fletching of your arrows. Your father thought he had traded away a submissive pawn to buy himself time. He thought you were a weak, compliant girl who would weep in a corner while his treachery tore a clan apart.

He was going to find out exactly who you were.

You rushed down the hidden, less-traveled pathways of Hometree, bypassing the frantic crowds entirely. Breaking into the dark, rain-slicked undergrowth of the forest, you raised your hand to your lips and let out a sharp, piercing whistle.

Within moments, the heavy thud of hooves echoed through the brush, and your direhorse broke through the foliage. You vaulted onto its back, your fingers grabbing your kuru and connecting it to his in one swift motion. With a fierce tap to its flanks, you turned the direhorse toward the borders, tearing into the black, stormy night.

You were going back to your clan. And you were going to kill your father.

The wind screamed in your ears, tearing through your hair as the direhorse threw its powerful weight forward, kicking up wet earth and leaves. For hours, you rode through the stormy night without a single pause. The rain-drenched trees of the Omatikaya territory gradually gave way to the dark, clouded woods of the suffocating borders of your birth clan.

Your body ached, your muscles tightly coiled with exhaustion and a cold, lethal focus. By the time the distant glow of your old clan's cooking fires pierced the dark, the storm had settled into a heavy mist. You didn’t slow down to hide or sneak through the brush like a frightened girl. You rode straight into the heart of the main clearing, the heavy thud of your direhorse's hooves drawing the immediate, sharp attention of the night guards.

Several warriors stepped forward, bows raised, but they froze when the light allowed for a better view of you, drenched in rain and covered in mud. From the largest tent, a tall, imposing figure stepped out, a heavy mantle around his shoulders.

Your father’s sharp eyes locked onto you, but you could see in his eyes that he was not threatened. You gave that to him. But that will change. He stepped closer, stopping a few paces away, completely unbothered by the heavy bow in your hand. To him, you were still the girl who always had her head down, the girl who bent to her mother's rigid will.

“Is he dead? Is that what this visit is for?” your father taunted, a slow, dark smirk spreading across his face as he looked up at you. “If so, then that is good news for our council. Job well done, and you can finally come home, daughter.”

You remained mounted on your direhorse, your posture regal, unyielding, and completely still. Your eyes, normally soft and trusting, were now as cold and sharp as blade.

“I feel sorry that I had to sacrifice you...” he continued, his voice dripping with a sickening condescension. “Let you be defiled and used over and over again by that disgusting half-blood. I am glad to see that you're not pregnant... that is great. We can wipe away that stain, remarry you to a real warrior, and—”

“What a loud noise,” you interrupted quietly.

Your father paused, his brows snapping together in sudden fury at your insolence. “What did you just say to me?” He looked at the old longbow in your hand again, a mocking chuckle vibrating in his chest. “You dare bring a weapon into my presence? You think you can make an aim on me after your pitiful training sessions with that demon? The one I personally shot?”

“For the record, dear father,” you said, your voice entirely devoid of fear, a slow smile tilting the corners of your lips. “Neteyam didn’t teach me archery... I learned this from under your nose.”

In the blink of an eye, faster than any warrior in the clearing could even register, your hand blurred. You drew an arrow from your quiver, nocked it, and pulled the heavy string back past your chest in one fluid, terrifyingly practiced motion.

Your father's eyes widened a fraction, his breath catching in his throat as he realized, too late, the absolute precision of your stance.

“Look,” you whispered.

You let go of the string and the heavy arrow flew with blinding speed, striking your father dead in the left side of his chest. The exact, precise spot where he had shot Neteyam.

He let out a sharp, agonized gasp, staggering backward as his hand flew to the shaft buried deep in his flesh. His eyes bulged, filled with a sudden, overwhelming mixture of anger and shock. He opened his mouth to scream for his warriors, his foot stepping forward to lunge at you.

Before his foot could even plant into the dirt, another arrow tore through the air, piercing straight through his foot and pinning it deeply into the muddy ground. He shrieked, a raw, pained sound, his balance entirely stolen from him as he began to fall. Desperate, his hand flew down to the knife strapped to his thigh, trying to draw it.

A third arrow struck his wrist, completely shattering the bone and before he could even touch the hilt.

You looked down at him from the height of your direhorse, your expression completely detached as he writhed in the mud beneath you.

“My husband is not dead, but you will be.”

Without a single hint of hesitation, you nocked one final arrow and released the string. The final arrow struck cleanly between his eyes, causing his body to slump back into the dirt, his blank gaze staring up at the stormy sky.

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

When the heavy sedation finally wore off, Neteyam opened his eyes to the harsh, sterile white light of the human biolab. His vision blurred, then sharpened, focusing on the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor. The sun of midday was already dawning through the windows.

His first thought was entirely instinctual. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the one face that always brought him peace.

“Y/N...” he grogged, his voice barely a gravelly whisper.

The lab doors hissed open, and Jake stepped inside, his expression deeply lined with fatigue. Behind him, Neytiri stood, her usual fierce posture replaced by a rare, heavy layer of visible guilt. Little Tuk was curled up on a chair in the corner, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

“Dad,” Neteyam breathed, trying to push himself up on his elbows. His hand flew to his chest, feeling the thick, white bandages binding his skin. “My wife?”

A heavy silence blanketed the room. Everyone had spent the last several hours frantically combing through every tier of Hometree after Jake had ordered a full-scale search, desperate to find you before his eldest son woke up, but no one had seen a trace of you. Even Neytiri, now that her blinding panic had subsided and her mind was clear, realized the catastrophic mistake she had made by cornering you and implicating you in the ambush.

For the past several weeks, the Omatikaya council had had intelligence about a brewing conflict. Your birth clan apparently part of a larger, aggressive faction of clans seeking to destabilize Toruk Makto’s influence, viewing his family as “half-bloods” who didn't belong with the true people of Eywa. Throughout those tense council meetings, Neteyam had staunchly, fiercely defended you.

When the elders and even his own mother suggested that your betrothal was a calculated set-up to make him vulnerable, Neteyam had never wavered. He knew your heart. He knew that you knew absolutely nothing about your clan’s movements, and he had begged his family to let him handle it, to protect you from the clan's suspicion.

But Neytiri's explosive grief at seeing her firstborn bleeding had shattered that protection.

“Neteyam,” Neytiri stepped forward, her voice trembling in a way he had never heard before. “The night you were brought in... I lost my mind,” Neytiri confessed. “I confronted her. I told her that her father shot you, and I... I accused her. Tuk said she left not long after. We think... maybe she went to find them. Maybe she'll come back...”

“Left?” Neteyam echoed, the word ripping out of his throat like a physical wound. The monitor beside his bed began to beep in a frantic, erratic rhythm. He tore the IV lines straight out of his arm, ignoring the sharp sting of blood.

“Neteyam, lay back down!” Jake barked, rushing forward to plant his heavy hands on his son's shoulders.

“No! She doesn't want to go back there! She told me she never wanted to see that place again!” Neteyam roared, fighting his father's grip with a desperate, wild strength, despite the pull on his stitched flesh. “I have to find her—”

“I’ve already sent out scouting teams to track her trail,” Jake argued, his voice laced with helplessness. “But the storm washed away the tracks. Some came back empty-handed. We don't know where to look, son.”

Neteyam’s chest tightened, a suffocating mixture of physical pain and raw, blinding panic making his head spin. He was hoping against hope that you hadn't gone back to your birth clan. He knew how much you hated it.

Just as he was stepping off the bed, the lab doors hissed open again. One of the clan's seasoned tracking warriors stepped into the room, drenched in mud and breathing heavily.

“Olo'eyktan,” Navem reported, bowing his head to Jake but looking directly at Neteyam. “Word has just come from the western border. Korto... is dead. He was assassinated in the dead of night inside his own camp. They said it was his eldest daughter.”

The warrior glanced at Neteyam. He felt the air completely knocked out of his lungs. He staggered, his knees buckling slightly as he stared at the warrior in absolute, stunned disbelief. His mind reeled, completely torn between two overwhelming realities: the terrifying fact that you had ridden alone into enemy territory in the middle of a storm, and the realization that you had executed a flawless assassination entirely on your own.

Neytiri gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.

It was Jake who broke the stunned silence, his tactical mind instantly kicking into gear. “Looks like we have a lead,” he said, his voice grim but focused. “Tell the aerial teams to scour every border between here and the plains. We need to get ahold of her before her father's loyalists do.”

Neteyam didn't wait for his father to finish. Ignoring the burning agony in his chest, he bolted out of the biolab. Jake and Neytiri chased after him as he sprinted up the winding pathways toward the ikran roost.

“Neteyam,” Jake called, throwing the comms through the air. Neteyam caught it with his good hand. “Wait for the scouts to give you an update!”

“Thanks, dad,” Neteyam yelled back, his voice raw.

“Come home safely. Both of you...” Neytiri begged from the platform below, her voice cracking.

Neteyam leaped onto his Ikran, his bond snapping into place with frantic urgency.

The flight was a blur of agonizing waiting. Neteyam cursed himself for choosing his Ikran over a direhorse, realizing too late that the thick canopy made it nearly impossible to spot a single figure from the air. For thirty agonizing minutes, he flew in erratic patterns, his heart hammering against his ribs, until the comms clicked to life.

“Neteyam, we have a visual. She’s at the rocky creek near the old boundary. We are moving to secure her—”

“No!” Neteyam barked into the mic, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Do not approach her. Give me the coordinates. I will deal with my wife on my own.”

Receiving the location, he drove his ikran into a steep dive, landing the beast in a clearing a short distance from the water. He threw himself off the saddle, his long strides breaking through the damp ferns as he sprinted toward the sound of rushing water.

And there you were.

You were sitting on a wet stone by the edge of the creek, looking incredibly small, pale, and exhausted. Your eyes were heavily swollen and puffy from a night of what seemed like endless crying. Your old longbow lay on the moss beside you. You were crouched low, scooping cold water into your palms to wash your mouth, when the rustle of leaves caught your attention.

Your eyes snapped up, locking onto his towering figure across the shallow water. You gasped, instinctively flinching and rearing back.

New, hot tears instantly swelled in your eyes as your gaze landed on the thick white bandages wrapping his torso, and the dark red spot of blood seeping through his chest. A wave of profound, crushing shame washed over you. Your father had done that. Your bloodline had brought that violence to his family. It didn't matter that you had killed the monster; the stain of the betrayal felt permanent.

“Don't come near me,” you sobbed, your voice breaking as you held up a trembling hand when he stepped straight into the freezing, ankle-deep water, his gaze brazen and unyielding.

“Why?” he asked stubbornly.

“It's just... you shouldn't be with me,” you sniffled, wrapping your arms around your own torso as if trying to hold yourself together.

He tilted his head, his expression softening into something intensely possessive. “Too bad. I want to be with you.”

“Neteyam, please,” you cried, shaking your head violently as the tears cascaded down your cheeks. “It is a disgrace! My people are traitors. My father wounded you, he almost took your life! My blood is that of a traitor’s... and I am so scared... I am so terrified that this life inside of me will take after my blood—”

“What?” Neteyam stopped dead in the middle of the creek.

The word hit him like a physical blow. You were rambling, your words pouring out so fast that his head began to spin, a sudden, loud ringing filling his ears. His golden eyes slowly dropped from your face, tracking down the length of your body until they rested on your flat abdomen. He closed his eyes for a single, heavy second, drawing in a long, deep breath through his nose to steady his racing mind.

The gravity of what you had just done crashed over him. You had traveled a distance that should have taken days in a matter of hours. You had risked your life, riding alone into a hostile camp, carrying out a flawless execution under the noses of an entire warrior council. You could have been captured. You could have been killed.

And through all of that terrifying danger, you were carrying his child.

“You are pregnant?” he asked, his voice dropping into a small, breathless whisper as his eyes snapped open again.

“I... I didn't know,” you whimpered, your fingers wrangling together in a fit of nervousness. “I just learned it now. I threw up so much... I don't know, I can feel it...”

“You are pregnant,” he repeated, a massive, overwhelming whoosh of air rushing out of his lips.

That's it. He lunged across the remaining stretch of the shallow creek, his powerful legs churning through the water until he reached your side. Before you could even take another step back, his large, good arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward until your body slammed directly into the solid wall that was his body.

He pulled back just enough to cup your jaw with his fingers, tilting your face up, and kissed you hard. It was a deep, fiercely possessive, and desperate kiss, pouring every ounce of his relief and love into your lips.

“Baby,” he breathed against your mouth, his forehead resting against yours as his chest heaved. “You are amazing. And you are lethal. You have always been. But I need you to never, ever do something like this again.” He let out a breathless, emotional laugh. “A bullet and an arrow haven't killed me yet, but you doing this might actually finish me off.”

You buried your face into his neck, sobbing uncontrollably as the immense weight of the last hours finally collapsed. “I wanted to be there last night,” you wept, your hands carefully gripping his shoulders, mindful of his injury. “I wanted to hold your hand so much... but I needed to catch my father at the very height of what he thought was his victory. I had to end it.”

Neteyam wrapped his arm tighter around you, burying his face into your hair, his own tears finally slipping down his cheeks. “I love you,” he mumbled fiercely into your skin. “I love you so much, baby.”

You pulled your head back, looking up into his golden eyes, your own twinkling with a mixture of exhaustion and profound love. You pushed up on your tiptoes, capturing his lips again, deepening the kiss as you mumbled, “I love you, Neteyam. I love you so much.”

When the kiss finally broke, Neteyam gently wiped the stray tears from your cheeks. “Do you want to go back home now?”

You nodded instantly, the word home finally feeling absolute.

“Are you... are you mad at my mother?” he asked softly, watching your expression carefully.

You shook your head, a soft, understanding smile touching your lips. “Mad? Why? I understood her anger, and I understood her reaction. She was simply a mother who was terrified of losing her firstborn child. I would have done the same.”

Neteyam’s chest swelled with an intense, overwhelming pride. The sheer capacity of your heart, after everything you had endured, left him entirely awed. He held you tightly against his good side as he guided you back toward his ikran. Your direhorse was left to be brought back by the Omatikaya warriors who had been tracking you from a distance.

When the ikran finally landed on the high platforms of Hometree, Jake, Neytiri, and Tuk were already waiting at the roost.

The moment the beast settled, Neytiri stepped forward, her face tense, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she prepared to offer a formal, deeply humbled apology to you, but Neteyam didn't give her the chance. The moment he dismounted, his large frame moved directly in front of you, shielding your body from his family's view.

“I need to take her straight to Mo'at,” he announced, his voice firm, carrying the absolute authority of a mate protecting his own. “She needs to be checked immediately. Especially given her... sensitive case right now.”

Tuk tilted her head, her big eyes darting around Neteyam’s torso to look at you. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You smiled warmly, stepping out from behind your husband's protective shoulder to look down at the little girl. “I am okay, Tuk. And I have some very great news for a brave warrior who guarded her brother so well.”

The family followed in a quiet, tense procession as Neteyam led you straight to the quiet upper tiers where Mo'at sat by the hearth. She didn't even need to touch you. The moment her wise eyes landed on your posture, and the subtle, protective way Neteyam’s hand was resting against the small of your back, a knowing, radiant smile broke across her weathered face.

“You are here to confirm a pregnancy? I had been waiting to be asked for moons.”

Tuk instantly let out a joyous shriek, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. “A playmate! I knew it!” she cheered, her laughter echoing through the quiet pavilion.

But while Tuk celebrated, the confirmation only made Neytiri’s chest tighten with a deeper, agonizing wave of guilt. She realized that your ride into danger had been undertaken at such a vulnerable state. Later that evening, as the stars began to blanket the skies, Neytiri found you sitting alone on the edge of the healing platform. She approached silently, her ears pressed back in true humility.

“Y/N,” Neytiri began, her powerful voice dropping to a soft, vulnerable register. “I have no words to excuse my behavior. I allowed my fear for my son to blind me and I am... deeply sorry for the pain I caused you.”

Your expression was entirely peaceful as you reached out, placing your hand over hers. “There is nothing to apologize for, Neytiri. We both had the exact same interest at heart. His safety amd protection. You reacted out of love for your son, and I reacted out of love for my husband. If I were in your position, I would have done far worse.”

Neytiri stared at you for a long moment, a profound respect cementing between the two of you as she squeezed your hand in return. “I have no doubt, daughter. I have no doubt.”

The rest of your pregnancy was a beautiful journey. Your bond with Neytiri had grown deeper as moons passed by, replacing the cold, rigid relationship you had with your mother. Although, there were times you missed her, there was no one in that clan you still wanted to see except for Tarluk.

The last of Neteyam’s intelligence reports regarding Tarluk said that he had escaped after your father’s assassination and the short period of anarchy that followed it. Neteyam assured you that he had sent word to allied clans to give him notice should a lone man wander near their borders.

You had refused to stress yourself further as your pregnancy progressed though. Not when Neteyam has became utterly insufferable in his doting. He refused to let you carry anything heavier than a piece of fruit and  followed you to every single healing lesson with Mo'at.

“You are leaning too far forward,” Neteyam murmured, his deep baritone vibrating right against your ear. His large hand reached around your waist, gently but firmly pulling your torso back against his solid chest. “Mo'at said you need to keep your spine straight so the weight doesn't strain your lower back.”

You let out a soft huff, a small smile tugging at your lips even as you tried to maintain your serious expression. “Neteyam, I am grinding roots, not fighting an ikran. My spine is perfectly fine.”

“I am just making sure,” he replied smoothly, completely unbothered by your teasing. He took the heavy stone pestle right out of your fingers. “Here. Let me do the heavy grinding. You shouldn't be straining your wrists.”

And he did not miss an evening without pressing his face against your growing belly, whispering long stories to the life moving inside you.

“Pea is quiet tonight,“ he whispered, his voice incredibly soft, a stark contrast to the commanding tone he used with the hunters. He flattened his large palm over your skin, his eyes closing as he felt the steady, rhythmic pulse of the life inside you.

“This little seed was kicking all afternoon while you were at the border,”  you murmured, your fingers gently tangling into the dark braids at the nape of his neck. “I think Pea misses the sound of your voice.”

Neteyam’s lips tilted into a proud, boyish smile against your skin. He nuzzled his nose against your stomach, clearing his throat quietly.

“Listen closely, little one,” he began, speaking directly to your belly. “Today, Papa flew high into the floating mountains. The wind was fierce, the kind that tries to steal your breath. I brought with me Mama’s longbow, and when you are big enough, I am going to show you the clearing where your mother showed me how fiercely she can shoot. She struck the farthest target dead in the center, the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.”

You felt a sudden, familiar flutter beneath his palm. A distinct, sharp little thump from the inside.

Neteyam’s eyes snapped open, his golden gaze lighting up with absolute, pure wonder. “Did you feel that? Pea heard me."

“As always,“ you whispered, your heart aching with a love so profound it felt heavy.

He leaned up, shifting his weight so he was hovering over you, his eyes dark with an intense, unyielding adoration. He pressed his lips to yours, a slow, deeply reassuring kiss that tasted of the sweet fruit you had shared earlier.

“You are everything,” he murmured against your mouth, his thumb gently tracing your cheekbone. “Both of you.”

When your labor finally arrived several moons later, he had completely lost his cool. He was so frantic, so entirely out of his element, pacing the pavilion and checking your vitals every two seconds, that Mo'at and Kiri eventually had to physically shove him out of the tent because his chaotic energy was stressing you out more than the contractions.

But when the final moments came, he was right there beside you. He held your hand with a trembling grip, his golden eyes wide with a mixture of terror and absolute reverence as you gave one final, powerful push.

A sharp, clear cry echoed through the kelku, cutting through the warm night air.

Mo'at smiled, carefully lifting the tiny, squirming bundle and wiping her down before placing her directly onto your chest. Neteyam leaned over you, his hot tears spilling onto your shoulder as he looked down at his newborn daughter. She was perfectly made, a beautiful little girl with your delicate features, but he can see how she got his defined stripes.

Neteyam pressed his lips to your sweaty forehead, his hand resting over both you and the baby. “She is perfect and strong, baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking with an endless devotion. “Just like her mother.”

[kahkae]

I’m trying to write a lengthy version of this but I can’t even finish the first part, may the gods of fan fiction writing bless me with flow state🫩

[junkerreptile]

A few days ago, or I don't know, I saw a video where the Avatar: The Last Airbender and Avatar fandoms were fighting... What a fool, man, I love the series and the movies, because I find both universes beautiful and unique! In addition, the character development and story are very good.

What's the point of fighting and claiming one is better than the other? If you don't like one, there's no need to be mean and hate on the other, don't be like that.

Those who fight love each other🗣️🔥

[kahkae]

Like him

stubbornness is in the air as what Norm likes to say.

“If you play on the mud again and tangle your curls—“

“OUCHH! You’re pulling my scalp!”

Jake glanced over at Norm who’s brushing Spider’s hair with mighty force after getting debris and leaves stuck in his golden curls—pretty hair naughty owner.

“Well you can get dreads like me, lil’ man. Ya’ know less brushing.” Spider’s face lit up with the idea of his hair being styled like the Toruk Makto, Norm however wasn’t digging it. “That’s gonna take a while, we’re shaving your head.”

“No. I’m having dreads!” Lo and behold, he got what he wanted.

“You look stupid bro!”

[tihonapalukantsyip]

learn more from writing fanfics in english class than from doing the work

[neteyamthinker]

where the act ends

content aged-up!neteyam x omatikaya female!reader

notes fake dating (this trope was requested <33), he falls first AND harder, yearning neteyam, reader is the sweetest girl in the world, smut (p in v), oral (f&m receiving)

synopsis neteyam offered a proposition to the most quiet girl in the clan: pretend to be his intended to make another girl jealous... but a short time into it and the lines had blurred for him. not for you, though! you’re serious about the mission, much to his frustration.

word count 14.4k

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

“The moons are ripening,” Elder Peyka remarked. “The courting season will be upon us before the next great hunt. The young warriors are already preening like forest ikrans... Oh, how nice to see.”

“And the girls are no better,” another elder chuckled, tightening a string of seed beads. She turned her clouded but sharp eyes toward you. You were sitting a few paces away, your fingers flying across a loom. “Child. Look at me.”

You paused, your heart giving a small, nervous flutter as you looked up. “Yes, elder?”

“You are of age now, are you not?”

“I am,” you replied softly, your voice barely rising above the rustle of the loom.

Peyka sighed, shaking her head. “If only you would go out there and be seen, child! You have the grace of the willow, but you hide like a yerik. You are too shy for your own good. If you do not lift your head, the season will pass you by and you might actually become a spinster, weaving alone while the rest of the clan sings of mates!”

A chorus of gentle, teasing laughter erupted from the circle. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, and you quickly ducked your head back down, focusing intensely on a loose thread. You let out a small, embarrassed chuckle of your own, a soft sound that barely escaped your lips.

You are painfully aware of that but you don’t know where to start. You have friends, yes, but they are not friends you hang out with outside of the weaving looms. You are almost always alone, and while other girls had found their places among the hunters, practicing their war cries or vying for the attention of the said men, you found yourself hidden in the looms to enjoy the repetitive routine of weaving.

It’s not like you were the best weaver, too. You are not the best, not the worst either, just a girl whose hands were often stained with berry dyes and whose eyes were usually cast downward. It was safer that way. When you didn't look up, you didn't have to see the way the world seemed to orbit around people who weren't you.

A few feet away, leaning against a sturdy root, Neteyam sat silently. An elder weaver was currently binding a new leather guard to his forearm, and while he appeared to be focused on it, his ears were swiveled toward the elders' conversation.

He watched you.

Neteyam knew everyone in the clan. It was his duty as the future Olo'eyktan, but as he looked at you now, he realized he has never even heard you speak. He knew your name, he knew your family, but he couldn't recall the sound of your voice until that very moment. Your shy, quiet laughter brought a warm feeling to his chest for some reason, making him take a deep breath.

His mind drifted to Ka’ani. She was the finest huntress among their peers, just like him. And he’s always thought of a partnership much like the one his parents have. His father is a great warrior and so is his mother. To be a great leader is to stand beside a fearsome woman as well... And he thinks it’s Ka’ani. He’d do well, he thinks.

But right now, she was becoming a challenge. She’s making him look like a fool, flitting from warrior to warrior to test his patience. She wanted him to chase her until he was exhausted, and Neteyam, the proud, capable, and unaccustomed to losing firstborn of the clan’s pillars, was reaching his breaking point. He was never fond of playing, but some games need strategy, too.

Neteyam’s gaze lingered on you. You were still working, your movements steady and humble, completely unaware of the weight of his stare. A slow, calculated thought began to take root in his mind.

“Finished, Neteyam,” the weaver said, patting his arm.

“Thank you,” Neteyam murmured. He stood up, taller and broader than most men.

Instead of heading back to where the warriors were gathering, he turned his steps toward the shadows. He walked with deliberate strides stopping right in front of your loom until his shadow blocked your light. “You’re doing that wrong.”

The voice startled you so badly that the bone needle slipped. “I—what?” you stammered, finally looking up.

Neteyam was standing over you. In the flickering firelight, his bioluminescent freckles were glowing like stars. “The weave,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the basket in your lap. “It’s too tight. It will snap when it dries.”

“The ones I did last moon were fine,” you murmured. You tried to look back down, to disappear into your work as you always did. “Is there something you need?”

Instead of answering, he sat. The movement was fluid, but there was a heaviness to it, sitting so close to you that his knee brushed against yours.

“I have a proposition for you, Y/N,” he said. His voice was low, dropping into a register that felt dangerously intimate. He knows your name?

You blinked, your insecurity rising up like a shield. “A proposition? Do you need help with the weaving?”

“No, no, I don’t,” he answered. “The elders speak the truth, you know,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone. “It would be a shame for you to be hidden in the dark.”

You finally looked up, your eyes wide. Neteyam wasn't looking at the fire, he was looking directly at you, and for the first time in your life, the Golden Son was smiling as if you were the only person in the clearing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He leaned in just an inch closer, his amber eyes sparking with a hidden intent. “Hear my proposition... It might just solve both our problems with the coming season.”

You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making it difficult to breathe. You were a weaver of threads, but sitting before you was practically the weaver of destinies in this clan. You know he could alter your life and he was looking at you with a terrifying amount of focus.

“Our... problems?“ you whispered, your fingers curling tightly around the bone needle. “I don’t have problems. And I don’t think someone like you have problems, Neteyam.”

He let out a short, huffed breath that might have been a laugh if his eyes weren't so sharp. “Everyone has a role to play. Sometimes, that role becomes... suffocating. My mother is already looking at the daughters of the council. She expects a match that strengthens the line. I’m thinking of Ka’ani. She’s the finest huntress my age.”

At the mention of her name, his jaw tightened. You remembered the last time you saw the girl. She was draped over the arm of a young warrior, her laughter loud and pointed, as if it was a performance, designed to reach the ears of a certain warrior. You remembered Neteyam standing in the training grounds then and everything clicked in your head.

“She wants a chase,” Neteyam continued, silencing your thoughts. “But I do not have the time for nonsensical games. And you... The elders say you are a shadow. That you will be left behind.”

“I am fine being a shadow,” you countered, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s not complicated. I will have what comes and accept what doesn’t.”

“Shadows are lonely,” he said softly. “Be my partner. Not just for the ceremonies, but the communal meals as well. I will be with you. Let the clan see us, let them see you.”

Your heart gave a violent thud. You weren't a fool. You knew what this was. You were the girl no one would suspect he will actually notice, which made you the perfect weapon to make Ka’ani lose her mind with jealousy.

“You want me to be a decoy,” you said. “You want her to see you with me so she’ll get jealous. You want her to stop playing around.”

Neteyam didn't flinch at your bluntness. Instead, he reached out, his large hand covering yours where it rested on the loom. His skin was warm, his touch steady. “Correct. And in return, you will no longer be the girl the elders pity. You will be the woman everyone sees. When the season ends and the act is over, every hunter in this clan will finally know your name. You won't be a spinster, Y/N. I’ll make sure of that. You’ll have your pick of any man here.”

It was a cold, calculated trade. He will get the girl and you get a reputation and a way out of the shadows. He looked so sincere. You knew you should say no, you wouldn’t know how to act around him. But the thought of being someone for once, of walking through the village and not having people look through you, was a siren song you couldn't resist.

“What if I'm not a good actress?” you asked, your voice a mere breath.

Neteyam’s smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was the smile of a strategist who had just moved his final piece into place.

“Just sit by my side. I’ll do the rest.” he murmured, his thumb grazing your knuckles.

You took a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay. I'll do it.”

Neteyam squeezed your hand once, a seal of the contract, before standing up. He offered his hand to help you up, and when you took it, the world felt like it shifted on its axis. You were stepping out of the dark, and into a fire that you knew, eventually, would burn you to ash.

Neteyam is a meticulous director and it was very hard for you as an easily embarrassed person. Being seen isn’t even enough for him, the act had to be over the top! He wanted it to be undeniable.

“Chin up,” he whispered one afternoon. You were walking to the central clearing for the communal meal, his hand hovering over your waist. “You look like you’re walking to a funeral. Look at me. Smile.”

“It’s hard to smile when I feel like a piece of bait,” you murmured, keeping your eyes down, feeling at least a hundred eyes on you.

Neteyam let out a sharp breath. He stopped walking, maneuvering you to turn and face him. To anyone watching from a distance, it looked like a tender, private moment between lovers. Up close, his eyes were scanning the crowd, pinpointing exactly where Ka’ani was sitting with her friends.

“You agreed to this,” he reminded you, his voice low and firm. He reached out, his fingers tilting your chin upward. His touch was warm, but it lacked the softness you’d imagined his touch would have. It was the grip of a hunter holding a prized bow. “If you don't look happy, she’ll know it’s a ruse. Do you want the elders to go back to pitying you by tomorrow sun-up?”

The reminder of your own invisibility stung. You forced your lips to curve, a small, shaky smile that felt brittle. “Is this better?”

He studied your face for a beat too long, his thumb grazing your jawline. For a split second, his focus shifted from the crowd to the way your eyes searched his, but he shook it off quickly. “Better. Keep it there, hm?“

He led you toward the long tables. This was the stage. He made a show of picking out the best cuts of roasted meat for you, leaning in so close that his braids brushed against your shoulder. He was performative, ensuring the warriors nearby heard him.

“And since you’re starting a new tapestry,” he said, loud enough for Ka'ani to hear from across your table. He draped an arm over the back of your seating mat, effectively fencing you in. “I’d fly to the borders to get you fibers for it.”

You pursed your lips, lowering your head down to chuckle. “Your voice is too loud, Neteyam...“ you mumbled. “I’ll end up with busted ear drums by the time this is over.“

His own head lowered and angled toward you to catch what you’re saying, but it threw back as he let out a bark of genuine and deep laughter. You startled, your hand flying to his chest unconsciously, your head swiveling to the crowd of people who are now looking at you. You caught a glimpse of Ka’ani’s sharp eyes narrowing to slits.

The mission is working. You know it is working, you’ve seen Ka’ani’s candid reactions in the past days and it was almost comical. You don’t understand how she can let other men touch her when it was Neteyam she truly wants. It’s confusing, especially because you can see how she jealous she looks.

“You can relax, Neteyam,” you whispered, leaning toward him. “She’s gone. She stomped away five minutes ago.”

Neteyam’s posture didn't soften. He didn't pull his arm back. He took a slow sip of water, his expression unreadable. “The act doesn't stop just because the primary audience leaves, Y/N. There are other eyes. Word must travel. That is how a reputation is built.” He looked at you then, and for a moment, the strategic coldness was all there was. “Eat your food. We have a walk through the groves. People need to see us.”

The following days, and weeks, was a blur of choreographed intimacy. Neteyam was serious with his acts, he was everywhere you were. If you were gathering fibers, he was there, scouting the perimeter but always staying within your line of sight. During communal meals, he always ate with you, listening to you ramble and chuckling at everything you say.

But you don't know why... Why you feel a pang of hurt every time his eyes flitter to where Ka’ani is, to see if she was seeing how fun he was having with the weaver girl no one even paid attention to until he did, because he was right.

Now that he has brought you out to light, more and more men were trying to talk to you, asking you random stuff they wouldn't even bother asking before. For them, you were almost unreachable in the past. You are too shy, too aloof, to be in the selection of girls they dare to play with.

But as the days pressed on, the meticulous director started losing his grip on the script.

The script had been clear: Neteyam would bring you into the light, and the hunters of the clan would finally notice you. It was exactly what he had promised. But as he stood on a ridge overlooking the path back to Hometree, watching you walk beside a hunter who was carrying your bundle of fibers under his arm, the air in his lungs seemed to turn to ice.

The hunter was Ki’ong, a young man known for his easy smiles and a way of speaking that reminded him of the way you speak. If he saw this moons ago, the match would have made so much sense. The gentle hunter matches your gentleness. But today, he felt only bitterness. You were laughing, the sound he wanted to bottle and bring with him on patrol to help him calm down.

Now, Ki’ong is easily basking in it, his tail twitching with a rhythmic interest that Neteyam recognized all too well for he was a man, too. His hand tightened around the grip of the bow until the wood groaned. His jaw locked. This was the trade, wasn't it? He had told you that by the time the season ended, you would have your pick of any man in the clan. So why did he feel like he wanted to shoot an arrow through the dirt at Ki’ong’s feet as a warning?

His feet moved, and by the time you reached the shadow of the massive fern near the entrance, Neteyam was already there, blocking the path, calling your name in a sharp and dangerous tone that made Ki’ong stop in his tracks.

“Neteyam!“ you said, surprised. “I thought you weren’t back from the scout yet.”

Neteyam ignored you, his amber eyes fixed entirely on the other hunter. He stepped forward, entering your personal space with a possessiveness that felt far too real to be an act. You looked around. There was no crowd and no Ka’ani at all, and this confuses you. What more, Neteyam wasn’t even looking around for the audience. He was looking only at Ki’ong’s hand, which was hovering just a bit too close to your elbow.

Ki'ong blinked, his easy smile faltering under the sheer weight of Neteyam's stare. “I saw her in the forest, Neteyam, uh... What she was carrying was heavy—”

“Thank you for that, but I’ll take it from here,” Neteyam cut him off, his voice dropping into a warning growl. He reached out, not gently, and pulled your fiber basket from the hunter.

“I'll... see you later then... Y/N,” Ki’ong said before walking away.

Neteyam’s head snapped back to Ki’ong’s retreating form, his entire body coiled like a viper ready to strike at the mere mention of a later. You watched him, your confusion slowly melting into a mischievous realization. You looked around one more time, and there’s still nothing but a stray woodsprite. No Ka’ani. No prying hunters. Just a very, very grumpy warrior holding a basket of fibers as if it were a thermal detonator.

A bubble of laughter escaped you, and you poked his rigid bicep.

“Wow,” you giggled, leaning in close to peer up at his stormy face. “Neteyam, that was... incredible. The growl? The death stare? You’re getting really good at this. If I didn't know better, I’d think you were actually trying to pick a fight over my honor.”

Neteyam didn't relax. His jaw remained a hard line. “He was overstepping. He was touching you.”

“He was just helping me,” you countered, your eyes dancing with amusement. You started walking, motioning for him to follow with your basket. “But honestly, I’m impressed. You’re such a perfectionist. Even with no audience, you’re still acting the territorial suitor.”

He fell into step behind you, his tail still lashing even though he’s not speaking.

“Oh, come on,” you teased, walking backward for a few steps so you could admire his scowl. “Let’s just hope Ki’ong tells everyone about your reaction. If word gets back to Ka’ani that the great Neteyam almost bared his teeth at a hunter just for carrying my basket... well, our mission is as good as won. It’s going to make it sound so real!” You turned back around, a satisfied hum leaving your throat. “But I don’t think Ki’ong is the type to talk about stuff like that. He seemed too nice to gossip.”

“How would you know? You don’t know him,” Neteyam cut you off, his voice sharp.

You laughed again, the sound light and airy. “Maybe I just know. I can sense if people have good hearts,” you said, reaching back to give his chest a playful, comforting pat. “Come on,” you smiled, oblivious to the way his hand tightened on the basket handle until his knuckles turned pale. “Let’s bring that to the looms. You can put all that 'warrior energy' into helping me sort the threads.”

You turned on your heels and skipped ahead, feeling lighter than you had in days. Behind you, Neteyam stood for a beat longer, his eyes locked on the sway of your braids.

                                                           ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You two were swimming in the river, not alone anyway, because it’s just one of your many stages. His fellow hunters and warriors were swimming in the river several paces away from the two of you, but he has since swam to a secluded bend away from their prying eyes. You don’t always swim in the river. Mostly because you don’t want to swim alone, so now, you’re enjoying everything, even the reflection of the shimmering canopy above. You kept diving for as long as you could, the act momentarily paused because he had stirred you two away from the audience. You shrieked when you felt something tiny dart on your ankle. You dove your head, swimming after the tiny fish, your hand shotting forward to catch it and you bubbled a laugh underwater when you actually caught it.

You swam to the surface, holding up the fish as you laughed, the sound of your mirth echoing off the rock walls like bells. Neteyam stared at you from where he is, leaning against a mossy boulder, his chest heaving slightly, though he had been idle the entire time. You waded toward him, bringing him the fish, but he looked so serious that your lips pushed forward instead. Neteyam gritted his teeth at the sight of your smile fading.

“You looked like the sky had fallen on you. What is it?” you asked, putting the fish back in the water and watching it dart away from you with a small smile.

“Our scout yesterday everning” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You nodded. He was late to the dinner last night... You figured there was something wrong, but you heard no news about it.

“There was a near skirmish with a violent clan. They were one of those clans whose lands were spoiled by the sky people's actions. Apparently, they’ve been looking for a place to settle in, but they are also harming non-combatant clans.”

You stopped splashing, the water settling around you. You hadn't heard about this. The elders usually kept such news quiet to avoid panic, but to know this now, and to see how burdened Neteyam was by it, you couldn't help but be bothered.

“The council expects me to be like him,” he said, staring at his reflection in the water. He didn't specify who him was and he didn’t have to. You know who he was talking about. As the firstborn of Toruk Makto, Neteyam has always lived in the shadow of a legend. “Every battle, every hunt, every word I speak... it's measured against a standard I will never reach.”

You stopped creating ripples in the waters, looking up at him. “You don’t need to be your father, Neteyam,” you said softly. “Have they considered a dialogue between the people of that clan? Perhaps... The chieftains of our neighboring clans could convene in a large council and speak with their representatives. I don’t think it needs to lead to people getting hurt when speaking would reach a much better conclusion.”

Neteyam went still, his gaze snapping from the water’s surface to your face. He watched you with an intensity he had directed to no one, but you wouldn’t know that. For a moment, the weight in his shoulders seemed to flicker, unsettled by the peaceful logic of your words.

“A dialogue,” he repeated. He had been so focused on formations, weapon readiness, and the cold calculations of a warrior that the idea of a diplomatic council felt like a sudden breath of fresh air. “Why do you think I am a warrior?” he asked, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “I am taught to protect. To fight.”

“You are taught to lead,” you corrected gently, lightly splashing a bit of water toward his chest. “And a leader’s first duty isn’t to fight, but to ensure peace. Your warriors will think of war, you will think of how to protect the people and the forest. The people of that clan is desperate, for sure... They lost their home, they are living like beggars. There is a reason they steal and harm the people who stop them. Have the clans thought of helping them?”

He blinked, his amber eyes searching yours as if he could find all the answers there now.

You smiled lopsidedly, “You can think of all that later though,” you said softly, reaching into the crevice of the rock wall and plucking a small, ripe fruit that hung low. His eyes watched you peel it with nimble fingers. “But right now? The water is cool, the fish are annoying, and you can rest your mind. Try being here for five minutes.”

You gave him the fruit and when he took it, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering in a way that wasn't for show. He ate it slowly, watching you as if you were a piece of the puzzle he found after a long search. The silence was warm, humming with a new, dangerous kind of energy.

“You think it could be that simple?” he asked, his voice a low vibration.

“I think you make it too hard,” you laughed, feeling a sudden surge of playfulness. You stepped back, the water splashing around your chest. “I’ll bet a week’s worth of weaving that I can reach the falls before you!”

Before he could answer, you dove, your body disappearing into the water.

Neteyam stood there for a heartbeat, stunned. He didn't check the treeline. He didn't look back toward the other hunters. He didn't think about his father's expectations or the violent clan at the border. He simply dove in after you.

He caught up to you just as you reached the white water of the falls. You surfaced, gasping for air and laughing, only to find him right there, his eyes bright with a genuine, carefree light you had never seen before. You panicked at the sight of him, though, shrieking and kicking the hand that held your ankle. He barked a laugh, deep and resonant, that even he knows he hasn't laughed that way before. He reached out again, his hand finding yours under the water, squeezing it before pulling you to him. For the first time, he wasn't holding you so people would notice. He was holding you so you wouldn't drift away.

That night, as you both walked back to the village, Neteyam’s hand stayed on your waist even after you had passed the last group of onlookers. When you saw Ka’ani appeared near the communal fire, looking particularly striking in her new top and loincloth that seemed to match the feathers in her hair, Neteyam didn't even turn his head even after you pointed it out. He was too busy listening to you describe the specific shade of teal the river turns into when the moons are at a particular shade. There's lightness in his chest that made him feel like he was flying.

Several nights later, Neteyam moved through the crowd with a lightness in his step that hadn't been there days prior. The communal dinner was buzzing with different conversations, but for him, it was merely a background, his eyes locked on your form, looking like a man who had finally found the trail home.

Earlier that afternoon, the Council had been tense. Jake and the elders focused on battle plans, on dispatching warriors to fight when necessary. Neteyam saw how the council, including him, lack the sight you have to see things differently. He didn't know where it was coming from, but his chest was puffing with full confidence on the idea you had given him, that when he spoke of dialogue, of the displaced clan’s desperation, and of communal aid rather than battles that would only end in loss, his voice was laced with certainty.

Jake had looked at his son with a mixture of surprise and pride. “That is a path well thought of, Neteyam,” he said.

“You think like a true leader of the people now, son,” Neytiri had added, her hand resting on his shoulder. “You have grown.”

Neteyam had offered them a small, humble smile. “I cannot take the credit, Mother. It was a good friend who gave me the perspective I needed,” he said.

Neytiri tilted her head. “Oh? Who is this friend?” she asked.

Neteyam had looked at his mother. It was the easiest question he’d been asked, but it strike him quite deeply that he didn’t know what to say. “Someone I... trust deeply.”

Now, standing in the glow of the fire, Neteyam didn't even pause to greet the other hunters who called out to him. He made a beeline for the corner where you sat, tucked away with your latest weaving. When you looked up, your eyes widened at the sight of the massive, genuine grin splitting his face.

“They accepted it,“ he said, dropping down beside you, his presence instantly making your corner feel warmer. “The envoys will be sent at first light. My father and the elders... actually listened. We’re calling a council of all the neighboring clans to help the displaced.”

You felt a swell of pride in your chest, your grin matching his. “See? Sometimes, you need to rest your mind and your soul, clear it until it is still water,“ you gestured in the air and be watched you with a lazy smile. “Only then can you see the path clearly.“

Neteyam’s gaze was soft, lingering on your face in a way that made your heart skip a beat. It was no longer the calculated look of someone directing a performance, it was the look of someone truly seeing you. You tear your gaze away, picking at the nuts on your leaf plate.

“I have something for you,” he murmured, reaching into the small pouch at his waist. He held out his hand, palm up, revealing a mountain of perfectly ripe berries, the kind that only grow on the highest, most dangerous ledges.

You gasped, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached out for one. “Neteyam, these are rare. How did you—”

“I was scouting the upper ridges,” he lied effortlessly, though his eyes twinkled with the truth of the effort he’d put into finding them just for you. “They’re all yours. Take them.”

You popped one into your mouth, the burst of sweetness making you hum. Neteyam let out a low chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched you enjoy the small gift. He didn't even notice the silence that had fallen over the nearby tables as they all watched him dote on the girl whose voice they rarely heard.

From across the fire, Ka’ani felt the roasted meat in her mouth turn to ash. She couldn't even swallow. She had been so sure of what Neteyam wanted, sure that it was her in her strength and vitality. She was merely trying to break at his carefully cold facade, but he never did give her the satisfaction of seeing it.

But as she watched him now, she saw the way he leaned toward you, his body instinctively closing off the rest of the world to keep you in his private circle. She saw the way he laughed, unguarded, soft, and intimate. She had never seen that light in his eyes directed at her. She had never seen him look at anyone with such... peace.

Her fingers dug into the bark of her seating mat. This wasn't a game anymore. The challenge she thought she was winning had been forfeited by the man she wanted most, and the realization made her blood boil with a jealousy that was no longer a performance. As fot Neteyam, he has long forgotten to look if Ka’ani even had her eyes on them, and tonight, he had forgotten she was even there.

Days later, you were at the washing stream, submerging your fibers in the cool water. You were thinking too much of Neteyam and the ride you had on his ikran last night when he brought you to the Hallelujah Mountains, but your peace was disrupted with the presence of another. You stopped and turned around, your breath hitching when you saw Ka’ani step out from behind a massive fern.

“Ka’ani,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. You adjusted the empty leaf plate in your hands, refusing to cower.

“How does it feel?” she sneered, pacing a slow circle around you, her tail lashing behind her. “To be the little pet? To be the girl Neteyam uses to get a reaction from me? You think those smiles of his mean anything? You think that look in his eyes is real?” She let out a mocking laugh. “He’s a warrior. The future Olo’eyktan. Do you think think I don’t know what he’s doing? He wants me, and he’s using a quiet mouse like you to punish me for playing hard to get.”

You pursed your lips to stop yourself from chuckling. This is comedy to you, but you also feel guilty that she seems to be really upset. If only she weren’t being mean, you’d have advised her to go to Neteyam and talk to him properly, so that they can fix things between them.

“If you are so certain of that, Ka’ani,” you said, your voice dropping to a calm, melodic register that seemed to grate on her nerves, “then why are you talking to me?”

Ka’ani froze, her lips pulling back in a snarl.

“If you're so sure he’s yours, go to him,” you continued, stepping closer into her space, though your heart was hammering against your ribs. “Whine to him. Demand his attention. Tell him to come back to you. Perhaps it will do you better.”

You didn't wait for her to respond, you walked past her, maintaining your composure until you were well out of her sight. You stopped when you’re well away from her, pursing your lips. “Wah... That was a good one from me. That’s literally method acting,” you chuckled to yourself.

At the same time, Neteyam was on patrol through the high canopies of the Omatikaya lands’ borders. Patrols are usually a time of hyper-vigilance for him, he was trained to scan for the unnatural glint of obsidian or the misplaced shadow of a predator. But today, his eyes kept snagging on a bright plant. He spotted a cluster of a familiar stalk, their ribbed skin a good shade of cerulean.

Moons ago, he would have seen them as a slippery obstacle on a landing branch. Now, he found himself hovering his ikran near the cliff edge, reaching out to pluck a single stem. He rubbed the surface, watching the pigment stain his thumb.

This, he thought, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, this is the blue she said looked like the deep water in the eastern seas. He found himself wondering about every plant he passed, not for its toxicity or its strength which he is wont to do as a vigilant hunter, but for how beautiful its hidden colors would be in the eyes of a weaver he keeps thinking about. He didn’t even have names for the shades he collected, but he knew you would find them beautiful.

When he finally returned to hometree, he didn’t head for the warriors' lodge to report in. He went straight to the weaving looms. His heart doing a strange, light hop when he saw your form hunched over a weaving loom. He silently crept up behind you and leaned down to tickle the curve of your ear with the cool tip of the blue plant.

You shrieked, your shoulders jumping as you nearly dropped your bone needle. You whirled around, your eyes wide but when you saw Neteyam, standing there with that lazy, genuine grin, you glared but still laughed.

“My work will be ruined because of you,” you breathed, clutching your chest.

“I thought a weaver's hands were supposed to be steady,” he teased, his voice low, handing you the blue stalk. “I saw this on the ridge. Is it the one that turns to ink when you boil it?”

You took the plant, your fingers brushing his. “It is. I.. I'm surprised you remembered.”

“I remember everything you say,” he said, and for a second, the air between you felt thick and heavy with a truth that had nothing to do with your deal. He tore his gaze away when his cheeks burned at the realization of what he said.

Before he could lose his footing, an elder weaver called out from the circle, asking you to venture into the lower groves to find specific climbing fibers for the council’s new tapestry.

“I'll accompany you,” Neteyam said before you could even reach for your basket.

As you walked into the dappled light of the forest, your fear of the ruse ending began to fade, replaced by the sheer comfort of his presence. You started to ramble, and Neteyam, as you have discovered in the past weeks, was a good listener. He didn't interrupt, or patronize. He simply watched you with a curious, steady gaze that made you feel... heard.

“You see that?” you said one afternoon, pointing to a cluster of deep crimson berries clinging to a damp log. “Most people think they’re just for eating, but if you crush them with a bit of limestone and the sap from a yellow stalk, you get a purple that looks like the sky before the sun sets. It’s the only color that stays after the fiber is boiled.”

Neteyam leaned in, peering at the berries as if they were a new species of prey.

“And those,” you continued, stumbling over your words in your haste to explain. “If you harvest them when they’re still young, they give a gold that practically glows in the dark. I used it for the elders' ceremonial sashes last year. Everyone thought I’d traded with the reef clans for it, but it was just right here, under our feet, being stepped on.”

You laughed, a bright sound that echoed through the trees, but when you realized you were rambling, you quickly shut your mouth, touching your lips.

“Sorry.  I’m talking too much,“ you gripped the basket hard.

Neteyam stopped walking. He turned to you with a genuine frown on his face. “You can talk my ears off. I’ve spent my whole life looking at the forest for threats or targets. I never realized how much I’m missing what was right in front of me.” He chuckled, a low vibration in his chest. “I found myself looking at different plants lately, wondering if it was the right kind of hue for your weaving.”

The admission was bold and he didn’t even feel shame even though he did feel his cheeks burn. He was thinking of you when you weren't together. The deal was working, but the lines were blurring so fast he doesn’t even care about the reason it began.

Weeks later, the success of the sturmbeest hunt was the reason for the thrumming of drums and chanting of the Omatikaya warriors dancing in the hometree’s communal clearing. High on the central dais, the Olo’eyktan’s voice carried over the throng as he announced the success of the council’s efforts to begin a dialogue with the displaced clan that has been disrupting the way of lives not only of the people, but that of the neighboring clans as well.

The chieftains of the other forest clans had apparently agreed to convene in a Great Council with the envoys returning with messages of unity. Neteyam stood beside you in the crowd, his shoulder brushing your arm. The rigid, perfect posture of a mighty warrior was gone, replaced by a relaxed stance he only seemed to find when he was within your orbit.

“You did it,” you whispered, grinning up at him.

Neteyam looked down at you, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “We did it,” he corrected softly. “I was ready to lead a war party until you handed me that fruit and told me to breathe. I would have missed the obvious path if you hadn't been standing there to point it out.”

You shrugged, picking a berry out of the leaf bowl he gave you. “So, what happens now?” you asked. “Now that the chieftains have agreed?”

“The next step may be the hardest,” Neteyam said, his expression turning thoughtful. “We have to send someone to the displaced clan. Not to fight, but to invite their Olo’eyktan. Someone has to show them we aren't their enemies and that we’ll help them settle and get back to their own feet.”

You looked at him, admiring the way the light caught the beads you’d given him which he had immediately put in his braids. “You should go, Neteyam.”

He blinked, looking surprised. “Me? My father will likely send an experienced diplomat, or perhaps a senior warrior.”

“No,” you insisted, stepping closer. “You’re the one who suggested it to the council. It’s a great opportunity for you to hone your diplomatic skills. You’re going to lead this people one day, and this might not be the last time a clan is desperate or angry. If you go, you’ll learn a lot.”

Neteyam went quiet, watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He listened to you as if every word you spoke was important. “You really think I can do it?”

“I know you can,” you said firmly. “You have the heart for it.” You looked at your berries again, eating more of it.

The wind shifted then, kicking up a swirl of fine wood-dust from the dancefloor. You winced, your hand flying to your eye as you felt a sharp things.

“Ow—wait, something’s in my eye.”

“Don’t rub it,” Neteyam said immediately. His hands were suddenly on your face, his touch firm but incredibly gentle as he cupped your jaw. “Look at me. Keep it open.”

You looked up at him, your vision watering and blurred. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. He leaned down, his face mere inches from yours, and blew a soft, steady breath across your eye to clear the dust.

“Is that better?” he whispered, blowing another.

You chuckled as you blinked several times, your heart doing a frantic dance in your chest. “It’s just a bit of dust, Neteyam, you look so serious,” you said, smiling.

He stared at you, still not pulling away and when you didn’t move your head, he tilted his and pressed his lips to yours. It was deep, soft, and carried the weight of his yearning in the past moons. He didn’t know how long he had wanted to do that, but the softness of your lips is making him melt like candle wax.

In your belly, it felt like a hundred forest ikrans had suddenly taken flight. You felt giddy, almost lightheaded, but the thought of the deal flickered in your mind. When he pulled back just a fraction to let you breathe, your eyes pierced through him and spotted Ka’ani across the fire, her face fuming as she watched Neteyam’s back, specifically how he was bent at the waist just so he could kiss you.

“She’s looking...” you murmured against his lips, your voice a shaky mess.

Neteyam’s mind was hazy, drugged by the taste of your lips. His brows furrowed. “Who?” he asked, his voice a gravelly rumble as he kissed the corner of your mouth, his hands tightening on your jaw.

You closed your eyes, feeling the spark of his skin against yours. “Ka’ani...”

“And?” he responded, his nose nuzzling yours before he angled his head to kiss you more firmly. “Open up...”

“Uhm, about what? I mean, she talked to—”

Neteyam let out a low, vibrant chuckle that vibrated through your lips. “Your mouth, space cadet.”

Before you could even process what he meant, he darted his tongue out and licked at the seam of your lips. Your head reared back in genuine shock though, your eyes popping wide open.

“That was...” you sputtered, your face turning a deep, embarrassed crimson. “Why did you lick me? Neteyam!”

He barked a deep, resonant laugh, a real, belly-deep sound that made his whole frame shake. The sight of your shocked expression was too much for him. You tried to maintain your dignity, but his joy was too infectious.

“It’s a sweet gesture!” he laughed, reaching out to pull you back toward him.

“What? Like a fwampop?” you asked, but you were already giggling, the two of you leaning against each other and laughing so hard you forgot the rest of the clan was even there.

The festival fire continued to crackle, but for the rest of the night, Neteyam didn't leave your side. He followed you to the communal food pits when you offered to help the cooks, not letting you carry the heavy food trays so you just rambled about anything you could think of. Every time your hand brushed his, or you leaned in to tell him a secret about one of the dancers, he looked at you with a gaze so heavy and warm.

The next morning, the festival fog had settled over the village, but Neteyam was already awake and waiting by the weaving looms. He was standing there with a slightly large, intricately carved wooden bobbin. Something he spent days working on, but he won’t tell you that.

“Bobbin?” you asked with a huge smile when he gently handed it to you.

He shrugged nonchalantly, as if coming here early in the morning before his patrol to bring you something he had worked on for days meant nothing. “I saw you struggling with the one that kept snagging your thread,” he said. His fingers lingered on yours as you accepted it, his thumb tracing the back of your hand in a slow caress.

“Wow... This is perfect, Neteyam,” you said, beaming up at him as marveled at the craftsmanship.

He stared at you, fighting the urge to punch the air or beat up his chest as if he won a huge prize.

“You really didn't have to. Do you not have patrol?” you asked.

“I have,” he said. But he wanted to see you. Talk to you about last night, to clarify that the kiss had nothing to do with your deal.

“Alright, then. I’ll see you at lunch,” you said, your attention already focused on your new bobbin. He stood there for a few more seconds, just watching you, his ears twitching at the sound of your voice.

Later that afternoon, though, the rain began to pour while you were in the forest, the raindrops caching you near the lower groves. You tried to shield your basket of dyed fibers with your own body but just as heavy drops soaked your braids, you saw a familiar figure coming, holding a massive, broad leaf.

“Neteyam?” you uttered in surprise.

He had a boyish grin on as he held the leaf over your head. He was getting soaked, the rain slicking down his blue skin and making his muscles gleam, but he didn't seem to care. He stepped so close that his chest was almost touching your shoulder, the heat from his body acting as a shield against the chill.

“How did you even know I was here?” you asked, chuckling and pulling him close so he won’t get wet.

“I think I already know your routines,” he said, smirking playfully, though his voice was thick with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He reached out and tucked a wet strand of braid behind your ear, his touch far more lingering than it needed to be. His eyes dropped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to yours, as though searching for something.

You tear you gaze away. “I swear, you’re going to catch a cold! And you’re all muddy. What if Ka’ani sees you? You always have to be in character, you know?” you exclaimed, trying to push the leaf more toward his side.

Neteyam’s smile faltered for a second, a flicker of frustration crossing his features before he masked it with a soft chuckle. “Right. The act.”

He guided you back toward the shelter of the Hometree, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back. As you walked, he intentionally slowed his pace, pulling you closer to avoid a puddle. When you reached the dry roots of the tree, he didn't immediately let go. He leaned down, his face close to yours.

“Do you really think I'm doing all this for the audience?” he asked, his golden eyes searching yours with an intensity that felt like a plea.

Your brows furrowed, panic rising in you before laughing nervously, patting his arm and moving away into the shelter of the hometree’s canopy. “Well, you're a very dedicated actor, ‘Teyam. I have to hand it to you. Everybody believes us,” you said with a huge smile.

Neteyam went still. He stared at you, his hand still in the air, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he let out a long, slow sigh, his shoulders dropping just an inch. “I suppose I am dedicated,” he said quietly, a sad, lopsided smile touching his lips.

“I’m just glad I can help you with this. I’ve never had an actual friend, you know?” you said brightly, grabbing your basket from him. “See you at dinner? I heard they’re serving the smoked fish you like.”

Neteyam watched you walk away, your silhouette disappearing into the winding ramp. He looked down at the hand that had held the leaf, his fingers still tingling from the brief contact with your skin. “Damn it...” he whispered to the empty air. This isn’t an act anymore and he doesn’t know how to cross the threshold between the stage and the reality.

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“No way! You can't move there, that's against the rules!” Lo’ak barked, leaning over the board.

“You’re not one to talk about rules!” Spider countered, reaching for your game piece to help you. “Go on, girl, take his territory. Do it!”

You laughed, your face flushed with the kind of rowdy joy you usually only heard from a distance before. You slammed your piece down, successfully “capturing” Lo’ak’s base. You turned to Spider and Lo’ak, throwing up a hand for a high-four. “Did you see that?“

Spider barked a laughter. “Tell him, ‘suck it!’”

“Suck it?” you repeated with a confused smile.

The word had barely left your lips when the air in the room seemed to shift. Neteyam, who had been leaning against a nearby pillar watching you with a soft, protective smile as he sharpen his bows suddenly went rigid. He looked at Lo’ak and Spider, who were both chuckling, explaining to you what it meant.

“Hey, don't look at us,” Lo’ak muttered, though his tail was twitching with mischief. “She’s just part of the crew now, brother. One of the guys.”

Neteyam pushed off the pillar, stepping into the circle. He ignored the snickering from Lo’ak and Kiri’s knowing smirk. “She is not one of the guys,” Neteyam hissed under his breath.

You turned to him, still grinning from your victory. “Neteyam,” you called and his ears twitched at your soft voice. “Are you angry?”

He blinked, shaking his head right away. “No, no, of course not,” he told you, his eyes softening but a flitter of reprimanding gaze to Lo’ak and Spider promised later. He had just introduced you to them more than a week ago, for Eywa’s sake, and now, they are already teaching you the wrong things!

“You're teaching her the wrong things,” Neteyam told the two later that night when you left the small kelku they created for their games.

“Brother, I think she’s enjoying just fine. I’ve seen her before, she’s usually alone. I’m sure Lo’ak and Spider are just who she needs,” Kiri said,

“Right! She’s really fun. Just yesterday, we played with squid fruit by the river and she threw a mashed handful on my face. Look, I still have stains all over!“ Spider said, pointing at his pink-stained face.

“What?” Neteyam replied, horrified, remembering the stain on your temple that he saw last night. “Just what are you two—”

Lo’ak snicked. “Bro,“ he put a hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. “Don’t be too grumpy. You said you want her to have more friends and we are her friends now,“ he grinned.

Neteyam let out a huff, rolling his eyes. He understands this. You’d told him you have never had an actual friend and he thought he could remedy that. He’d give you everything, if he could.

A few days later, he insisted on coming with you to the forest and you agreeed, knowing you will have to pass by the training grounds where Ka’ani could be and she was indeed around, her eyes following Neteyam as if she’s waiting for him to spare her a glance but he was focused on the path ahead, oblivious or uncaring to her longing stares.

“Ka’ani was looking at you,“ you grinned up at him, nudging his side with your elbow.

You saw his brows furrowed for a moment and then his face hardened. You pushed your lips forward. You assumed it was because Ka’ani still didn’t go and talk to him. The woman is fierce warrior, she was probably too proud to see that as an option. She wants Neteyam to come to her. To her credit, you had not seen her in the company of man in the past weeks... You wondered if Neteyam has realized that.

“You know... I noticed Ka’ani has not been hanging out with guys lately? Have you noticed that?“ you asked, angling your head to look up at him as you rambled, “What if she’s just waiting for you to go and talk to her? I think that’s what she wants. She talked to me, you know? She was mad, so I think she was jealous, isn’t that great—”

“She talked to you? And she was mad?” he turned to you, his face etched with both anger and worry.

You grinned. “Yes. I can tell she was jealous—”

“Did she hurt you?”

“No, she didn’t...” you said. “She was just angry, because the act is working—”

You saw the bone in his jaw tick as if he was clenching his teeth. “Let’s not talk about her.”

Your lips pushed forward and you shrugged, listening instead to the soft crunch of dried leaves breaking beneath your feet. Neteyam fell quiet then, his tail twitching with a restlessness that told you something was weighing on him. You walked faster to match his face, pressing a palm on his chest which made him stop walking... and breathing, too.

“What’s bothering you?” you asked, standing in front of him and feeling his chest slowly deflate.

This is crazy. He has never noticed girls’ voices before, but now, they could probably use yours to cool him off. Your voice caresses him and your laugh sounds like bells in his ear. He wouldn’t have said a word if a different person had asked him, but you always have a way to make him open his mouth and just talk.

“The council... they are advising against it,” he said, his voice heavy. “They think sending me to the displaced clan as an envoy is too much risk, because they see me as a target, not a diplomat.”

Your eyes searched his face and he felt warm inside. “And what does your father say?”

He let out a frustrated sigh and your hand caressed his chest. His hand rose to catch your hand, pressing it against his lips. “He doesn’t say anything. Not yet. He just listens and only then he’ll decide. I’m worried he’ll take their advice,“ he looked at you.

You huffed a breath, patting his chest, and giving him a supportive smile. “Then remind them, Neteyam, that you are no longer a child to be shielded. At your age, your father was already Olo’eyktan. You have to learn diplomacy just as much as any other leader. It wouldn't do you any good to be a leader who is ill-equipped in the discussions of peace.”

Neteyam’s gaze softened, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he looked at you. You removed your hand but he caught it again. “Thank you... for always sharing my burden. I don't think I could have faced them today without hearing that.”

You chuckled, swinging your joined hands lightly. “Bro, it’s nothing! That’s what friends are for, as Spider says,” you beamed at him before turning back to the path ahead, missing the way his face completely dropped.

His smile faltered, and then it deadpanned. It was a total double-kill. Bro and friends in a single breath. You might as well have just shot him in the head and he would have taken it lighter. He huffed, his tail lashing once in irritation as he followed after you.

“I’m not your 'bro,'” he said, suddenly reaching forward to grab your basket from your arm.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you laughed at his sudden grumpiness. “Silly! We’re all brothers and sisters in the eyes of the Great Mother,” you said, lightheartedly twirling as you walked, enjoying the dappled sunlight. You didn't even notice how his eyes narrowed as he watched you move through the forest with no care in the world, seemingly oblivious to how much Lo’ak and Spider were ruining his life with their vocabulary lessons.

He had reached his limit.

Before you could twirl again, Neteyam stepped toward you. He reached out, gently but firmly grabbing your arm. Your eyes widened in surprise as he guided you backward, gently pushing you against the trunk of a nearby tree. You looked up at him, your breath catching. His face was inches away from yours, his golden eyes burning with a sudden, fierce intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs.

“Neteyam?” you whispered, your eyes dropping to his lips before you stupidly, unconsciously licked yours.

He leaned down, and when you didn't pull away, he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was deeper and more demanding than the one at the festival. He licked your lips again and you chuckled against his mouth but when his tongue darted inside yours, you made a sound that sounded so womanly it surprised even you. His tongue tangled with yours as his lips devoured yours.

Everything made you feel hot, and weirdly, tingly between your legs that you had to close your thighs together.

When he finally pulled back, his hands moved to cup your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he said, his voice low and trembling.

You blinked. “Now?”

“There are things that needs to be dealt with first,“ he said, caressing your jaw. You nodded.

The thing that needed dealing was Ka’ani. He didn’t know the extent of the conversation you had with the huntress, but he knew how Ka’ani talks, and the fact tha you said she was mad solidified what he knew. You two walked back to Hometree, with him carrying your basket for you. The elders giggled at the sight of him following you around like a loyal pet, and when he left with a lingering brush of his thumb against your cheek, they nosed around and asked if the warrior was truly courting you like they kept hearing from the youth.

“No, he’s not... He’s a friend,” you said, noticing the arm band on your basket. You took it and thought perhaps Neteyam had left it there.

You followed after him, thinking he hasn’t gone far yet, but when as stood in the Hometree’s shadowed entrance, you saw him approach Ka’ani near the training grounds, your breath hitching. Ka’ani tilted her head and smirked at him, turning on her heels into the privacy of the deeper woods. You saw Neteyam follow and you tucked yourself behind a massive fern, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

In the dimmed bioluminescence of the forest, Neteyam stood in front of the huntress, seeing that Ka’ani was already smiling, a triumphant, sharp look. “No need to say sorry, Neteyam, if that’s how you’ll start your piece. Because I know,” she said. “I know exactly what you’ve been doing. You’ve used that weaver girl to make me jealous, to straighten me up. I get it, so you can drop the act now. I’ve learned my lesson. I know it’s me you want—”

“I do not want you, Ka’ani,” Neteyam’s voice cut through her arrogance like a blade. “I never even thought I wanted you. Yes, you are a strong and fierce warrior, and I once thought that was what I needed by my side for when I lead one day... but I didn’t realize just how much I needed to see and be seen.“

“And have I not seen you?” Ka’ani snarled, her tail lashing. “We trained together, Neteyam! We fought, we hunted! I was always here! You just spared that girl a glance literally like yesterday and you think she’s perfect for you—”

“You don’t know me in the ways that matter, Ka’ani,” he countered. “I’ve had more connection with a rock, and I don't know why I ever entertained the thought that I needed someone strong by my side when strength is not the only thing this clan needs.”

Ka’ani’s face contorted, her pride wounded in front of the man she wanted so much and thought wanted her, too. “We can get to know each other! I regret it, alright? I regret playing around. I’ll focus—”

“Don’t regret what you did,” Neteyam said. “I’m glad you did it, because not only did it prevent me from making a huge mistake, it also brought me to her. And now, I have the rest of my life in front of me, bright and clear as day.” He stepped closer to her, his voice dropping to a warning growl. “Have a good life, Ka’ani. And do not ever approach my woman to tell her nonsense again.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Ka’ani watching him in deep contempt. All those last words he said not to do? She will do it. Back at Hometree, you sat by your loom, your fingers trembling as you picked up a strand of gold thread. You forced a smile onto your face, practicing the words of congratulations you would give him, even as you felt like the sky was turning a purple far deeper and darker than any storm. That was probably what he was going to talk about with you...

Outside, Neteyam walked back to Hometree with a sense of purpose he’d never felt before. He headed straight for the weaving looms. Tonight, you will be his. He’d tell you the act ends here and you two will start something real. No act from here on end. No games. Just the two of you.

But he never made it to the looms.

A hunter intercepted him midway, out of breath and frantic. “Neteyam! The night patrol was ambushed by the violent clan. Two are wounded. Your father is calling for the council.”

The shift in his demeanor was instantaneous. The soft, yearning man disappeared, replaced by the disciplined warrior. He hurried to the council, standing before Jake with a firm resolve. “I’ll go,” Neteyam insisted. “Fighting would be the last thing I’ll do. I’ll talk to them, Dad. You call for the chieftains to convene and I’ll convince them to come.”

He left within the hour, riding on his ikran, but his heart was back at Hometree, in the weaving looms... He thought he’d be back by light, but he didn’t know he’d be gone for days.

You had been crying. You learned that Neteyam left for a mission regarding the displaced clan, so even though you were heartbroken, you went to the Tree of Souls to pray for his journey. Your vulnerability was too obvious as you walk back to Hometee, and in it, Ka’ani found her opening. You were so close to Hometree when she stepped out from the shadows, a satisfied smirk on her face.

“Hi,” she greeted. “I’m pretty sure you’d heard of Neteyam going to battle... Did he say good bye to you?”

You lowered your gaze and shook your head.

“Where do you think he was last night before he went to battle?” she asked, her voice dripping with mock pity. “He was with me... getting his strength from me.” She stepped closer to you to tilt your head up. “He apologized to me, weaver. For losing sight of what’s truly for him... which is me. He loves me, which I’m sure you know... And he did make me feel loved... see?”

She tilted her head back, exposing the dark hickeys on the side of her neck. To your untrained eyes, it simply looked like bruises, but you knew what you were talking about. Pain bloomed in your chest and you felt ashamed for feeling it. You’re not supposed to feel it. You knew where this is leading to, you knew it was all an act. This woman in front of you was the only reason he approached you.

Ka’ani giggled. “Neteyam was insatiable. He missed me, as you can see... and now, I’m still sore, honestly,” she sighed, looking at you with that mock pity again. “Do you get it? He’s back with me... After he strayed. I hope you can respect that?”

You blinked, your lungs feeling as though they had turned to stone. You didn't realize you were holding your breath until she turned and walked away, and you felt like you might collapse, but the sound of Spider’s familiar voice cut through the silence. He came running toward you, laughing, with Tuk trailing just behind him.

“Was that Ka’ani?” Spider asked, his smile faltering. “What did you two talk about?”

You forced yourself to blink, the world slowly coming back into focus. “Uh... nothing. What are you two doing?”

“Playing tag!” Tuk squealed, slamming into your waist and hugging you tight. You automatically reached down to ruffle her braids. “Tag! You’re it!” she shouted, tapping your belly with a giggle before darting away.

Your soul wanted nothing more than to crawl into a dark corner and let the tears fall, but looking at Tuk’s bright face and Spider’s expectant grin, you couldn't bear to be the killjoy.

“Oh, you’re going to get it now!” you called out, forcing a smile as you chase after them.

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Neteyam had done the impossible. He had returned not just with his warriors intact, but with the promise of a unified forest. The first pace of the Great Council’s efforts to help the displaced clan find a dwelling land, he had secured a future for the displaced and for that, he was their hero.

The clan had a small celebration for it, but as the smell of roasted meat filled the air, Neteyam’s eyes were only on the winding path toward your family’s hut. He hadn't seen you in the crowd. He hadn't seen you at the landing where he expected you would be. Waiting for him. Kiri did tell him you were sick, though, which had sent a cold spike of dread that halted his celebratory high.

He didn't wait for his father’s final toast before slipping away, feeling a worry he didn't even feel during his mission. He arrived at your family’s hut, breathless, practically vibrating with the need to pull you into his arms and tell you that he had thought of nothing but your face as he sat among the displaced.

When you emerged from the flap, he froze. You were pale and your eyes were swollen and bloodshot, the telltale signs of the days you spent in quiet agony. His brows furrowed, his feet moving before he could even think. He stopped when he saw you step back though.

“I... I’m sick,” you said when you saw the question in his eyes. You didn't look at him with the warmth he’d been dreaming of. You looked at him as if he were a threat.

He stepped toward the platform, his hand reaching out instinctively. “I know. Kiri told me. But what made you sick? Why are you crying?" His voice was thick with a worry so raw it made your chest ache. “I haven't even been gone for a week, and this is what I return to?”

You stepped back into the shadows of the hut, a sharp scowl flickering across your face. “I... I don't know why I got sick. But I do know I want to lay down and rest. So if there's nothing else, I’ll go do it.”

Before he could utter another word, you grabbed the woven flap and slammed it shut. Neteyam stood there in the silence, staring at the closed entrance. His brows furrowed, his head tilting in genuine, painful confusion. He had expected a hug, a laugh, perhaps even a repeat of that soul-searing kiss in the forest. Instead, he had been shut out like a stranger. The victory he had carried on his shoulders suddenly felt hollow. For this, he didn't return to the celebration at all. He walked back to the his family’s hut in a daze, laying awake for hours wondering what could have poisoned the air in his absence.

The next day was filled with council meetings. He sat through hours of strategy and relocation discussions, but his mind was in the looms which he would check every time there's a chance, ready to scold you for working while ill, but your spot was empty. It wasn't until the following morning that he found you. You were sitting at your spot, your movements stiff and mechanical. And it seemed like you were waiting, too, because you looked at him the moment he stepped into the looms.

“Let’s talk,” he said, his voice firm, trying to reclaim some shred of authority to hide how much his heart was racing.

You stood up, your face impassive. “We do need to talk.” you said, your voice cold and sharp.

He stopped in his tracks, staring at you for more than a minute. For the first time in his life, after facing predators, raids, and the weight of a legacy, Neteyam felt a genuine, cold prickle of fear. But as he looked at the fire in your eyes, a small, reckless part of him couldn't help but admire it. He feels crazy. You are so hot when you’re mad.

You walked into the forest, feeling even more slighted when you remembered him going in this same route with Ka’ani. You felt his hand on your elbow though, steering you toward a different path instead. You glared at him. “Where are we going?”

The sight of direhorses answered your question though. You saw some warriors riding their mounts and Neteyam whistled for his. You saw Ka’ani among the warriors nearby and saw how her eyes narrowed at the sight of you and Neteyam. Shame rose in you and you tried to wriggle away from Neteyam’s hold, especially when a warrior came jogging toward you.

“Brother, will you not watch the young tame their mounts?“ The warrior asked. “They’ll be here in five minutes.”

The warrior glanced at you and you took your elbow from Neteyam again, but you weren’t able to get away though, because his hand found your waist and pulled you to him.

“No. I got something more important to do,“ Neteyam said. “I’m sure they’ll do well.”

The warrior snickered, “Enjoy then,” he glanced at you meaningfully before nodding to Neteyam, and turning away.

Neteyam’s hand spanned your waist and lifted you up on his direhorse in under ten seconds, making you slightly shriek. He mounted the beast behind you, making tsaheylu with it before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. You tried to move away, but the direhorse had started moving, and in a second, it was running.

The wind roared  past your ears as the direhorse ate up the miles, forcing you to lean back against Neteyam’s chest just to stay balanced. You enjoyed the sight during the ride, fighting the urge to move your head away when you felt him pressung a kiss to the crown of your head. You felt sad when he pulled on the reins, already missing the exhilaration of riding and the good view.

Neteyam slid off the mount first before reaching up to lift you down, his movements fluid and sure. He didn't let go immediately, his hands lingered on your waist as he looked around the clearing. He felt a surge of triumph that you hadn't jumped off and bolted, though he felt a twinge of guilt, too, because he’d brought you this far specifically so you couldn't run away.

The glade was breathtaking and it immediately snagged your attention. Under any other circumstances, you would have danced through the high grass, but the weight in your chest kept your feet heavy.

Neteyam turned to you, the light dabbing across his face. “Alright," he whispered, his jaw tightening. “Tell me. What has changed since I left?”

You scowled, the image of Ka’ani’s smug face flashing in your mind. “Are you sure things didn’t change before you left? I’m pretty sure you made up with Ka’ani, and did more than just talking.”

The accusation hit him like a physical blow that his eyes widened, his head snapping back in shock. “I did not ‘make up’ with Ka’ani. Yes, I talked to her, but I simply told her to back off. I told her never to approach you again. Did she talk of nonsense to you again?” He was practically vibrating, his tail lashing behind him.

“Yes, she did! We talked,” you threw back at him. “She showed me the hickeys on her neck, Neteyam! She said she was so sore... because you were insatiable! Because you missed her so much that you had to get your 'strength' from her before you left!”

“What?” The word was a rasp of horror. A visceral disgust washed over his features, his body shivering at the image your words painted. “I did not lay with her. I never did and I never would. Oh, Great Mother... that woman is a huge liar!”

You searched his face. You looked for a flicker of guilt or lie, a shift in his eyes, but all you saw was a man who looked genuinely nauseated by the very idea. You believe him, despite yourself and without your consent, the suffocating clouds over your head began to lighten. He stepped toward you, his hands reaching for your arms, but you crossed them over your chest, refusing to let him in just yet.

“Believe me, please,” he pleaded, his words beginning to tumble over each other in a frantic rush. “That night after we were in the forest, all I did was find her and shut down her delusions. I was so mad that she dared to talk to you, dared to get mad at you, so I told her to back off and never approach you again. I was coming back to you, baby. I was going to tell you our ruse ends there and then. I was going to beg you for a chance to make it real.”

He palmed his face , sounding completely undone.

“But then the incident with our warriors happened and I had to go... Jesus. I was so stupid. I should have gone to you before I left, but I was thinking... I was thinking I probably wouldn't be able to leave at all if you told me you’d give me a chance.”

His heart was beating too fast and to hard against his chest, watching the fire in your eyes finally die out, replaced by a soft heat. You believed him. It wasn't in your nature to stay angry when the truth felt so solid, and you knew Neteyam well enough now to know he would never play around. The fact that Ka’ani had looked so bitter earlier suddenly made sense. She hadn't won anything, she had just tried to burn down your bridge.

You bit your lip, your shoulders finally dropping. “Alright...” you whispered.

Neteyam didn't hesitate. He stepped into your space, gently wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into the solid warmth of his chest. “That’s it? ‘Alright’?” he asked, his voice soft and breathless, his face so close yours.

You pushed your lips forward in a small pout, though you didn't pull away. “I guess I believe you... I don’t think it’s in your character to lie like that.”

A wave of shame washed over you as you realized how quickly you had let Ka’ani’s poison work. You had given him so little confidence, believing a lie over the man you know to be so genuine and kind. But then, you had been protecting yourself; you were in an act, and the lines had been so blurred you didn't know where it all ended.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured “I just... I thought it was still an act. That we were still acting to get her back...”

Neteyam tightened his grip, lowering his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ve long forgotten about the deal. I think I stopped truly caring about it just a week after I started spending my days with you. I just didn't know what it was I was feeling until the thought of it ending and not being with you anymore felt more terrifying than any battle.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb caressing your cheek. “This is why you’ve been crying...”

You pushed your lips forward. You wanted to forget that part! “Let’s just forget it...”

“No, we won’t. You don’t know how much it broke me to see you cry, to see you so gray, and not know why. She hurt you, she meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice hard and his jaw tightening. “And I played a part in it. I should have talked to you, clear everything for us so you would have confidence in me. So you won’t believe her.”

You looked up at him, your hand pressing against his chest to calm him down. “It’s over and done with, Neteyam... What’s important is that we’te okay now. Right?”

He looked down at you, his head tilting. Ka’ani was lucky that you are so kind, but she wasn’t that lucky because he’s not. He leaned down to kiss you, “Right. There will be no more acts and games... Just us.”

You looked up at him, the weight finally gone, and for the first time in days, the light returned to your golden eyes. “Just us.” you beamed at him.

He sucked in a breath, pulling you and tilting your head to kiss you hard. He was a man starved and you could tell with how he's holding and kissing you. He moaned when your tongue licked his lower lip, making him pull his head back to look at you.

“It’s you I missed so much...” he mumbled, kissing you softly. “It’s you I’d be insatiable for... And you I’ll make so sore—”

“Neteyam!” your hand lifted up to clamp around his mouth and he laughed. You shrieked when you felt his warm and wet tongue lick at your palm.

“I know... I’ll court you... Then you'll accept me as your mate... And then you’re in big trouble wth me—”

You groaned, your cheeks burning purple. He kissed your cheek before angling his head to kiss you for real.

The next afternoon, the Sully siblings were in on the plan—though only Kiri truly understood the gravity of it. They had dragged you down to the river, telling you they’ll teach you how to properly splash a person without getting soaked yourself.

“Focus! You have to cup your hand like this,” Spider shouted, sending a wall of water toward a ducking Lo’ak.

You laughed, the sound genuine and bright, completely unaware that Neteyam had quietly slipped away. He had seen Ka’ani heading toward the upper trails, and he wasn't about to let another sun set without finishing this. He intercepted her near the high roots, his silhouette blocking her path. Ka’ani stopped, her smirk faltering when she saw the look on his face. He didn’t look friendly at all, not that he had look friendly the last time they talked, but the hard storm masking his face right now was the look of a man who had seen a threatening the peace.

“Neteyam,” she started, trying to reclaim her cool composure. “I thought you'd be busy with your little weaver.“

“I am busy,” Neteyam said. “I am busy realizing how wrong I was about you. I thought you were a warrior of honor, Ka’ani. I thought that even if you were proud, you were noble. But to purposely hurt a woman who did you nothing wrong? To lie about the most disgusting things just to see her cry—”

Ka’ani’s eyes narrowed, her tail lashing. “I know what I’m doing, Neteyam! You were only using her to straighten me up! I just leveled the playing field. I was reclaiming what was mine—”

“I was never yours,” he cut her off, disgust for her delusions crumpling his face. “There was nothing to reclaim, you had nothing. The life you are living is the one you actively chose. Even if we had tried before, I know I would have quickly realized it would never work, what with our lack of connection. The only thing we shared was the training grounds.”

Ka’ani winced as if he’d struck her. “I... I was just blinded, Neteyam. I was jealous! I was envious. I’m sorry, alright? I was just trying to get you back.”

Neteyam let out a sharp huff. “I wasn’t yours to get back, we had nothing to do with each other. And you’re not really sorry. At least not yet, because you didn't think of taking your words back during the days I wasn't home. You knew she was crying. You knew she was hurting from your lies, and you sat back and enjoyed it. You are only sorry now because I am standing here confronting you.”

Ka’ani opened her mouth to argue, her hands trembling, but no words came out. The truth of his gaze was too heavy to deflect.

“I hope you grow,” Neteyam said, turning on his heel.

“Neteyam, wait!” she called out, sounding frantic as he turned to walk away. “I’m sorry! I’ll go to her right now. I’ll apologize to her! Please... can we still be friends? We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

Neteyam stopped, but he didn't turn around. He looked over his shoulder, his profile sharp against the sunlight filtering through the leaves.

“We were never friends, Ka’ani. You don't see me as a friend. You see me as a prize to be won.” He took a breath, thinking of your laugh echoing by the river. “Friends don’t hurt the people you love. And that is exactly what you did to the woman I love. After that, I don’t think your wish can be possible.”

He left her standing there, the weight of her own choices finally settling on her shoulders. When he returned to the river, he saw you. You were dripping wet, laughing as Tuk tried to climb onto your back.You looked up and caught his eye, beaming at him with a warmth that made his heart feel like it was soaring home.

He didn't say a word about Ka’ani. He just waded into the water, pulled you into a lopsided embrace, and whispered into your ear, “I think it’s time I started that courting I mentioned. Properly.”

And just like that, the moons had drifted by like dust in the wind, and Neteyam had kept his word. He courted you openly and even formally asked your parents for your hand, which they initially did not want to grant him. They think your life wouldn’t be as peaceful if you mated Neteyam instead of a simple man in the clan. Honestly, your parents didn’t know what to do with him. Neteyam was so intense in his courtship to you and your family that, most times, your parents were literally hiding from him. By then, he had already brought your family the finest meat and the rarest fruits, but surprise of your parents’ lives probably came when he brought Jake and Neytiri. He wasn’t really planning to bring them along, it was just... Neytiri is apparently getting impatient over the fact that Neteyam isn’t an official suitor yet, and Jake wanted to relieve your parents of their worries over you being Neteyam’s mate.

And today, the celebration for the new village of the displaced clan felt like the culmination of everything you and Neteyam had built. It seemed so long ago when you two discussed the matter when you were swimming in the river, and now, the clan found a home by the river. The Olo’eyktan of the displaced clan stood before the grand fire. You’d met him only today, but you could already tell the respect he has for Neteyam.

“For too long, we were ghosts in this forest,” the Olo’eyktan started. “We lived like beggars, raiding for sustenance, hurting our brothers and sisters among your clans, and also fearing their spears, but a path was cleared where we saw only hopelessness. Our homes are standing here today because of Neteyam te Suli, our brother of the Omatikaya. Because of him, we have peace. Our children will know only the beauty of the forest and never the tragedy that forced us out of our lands.”

You grinned as the crowd erupted, but Neteyam tried to sink into his seat, his ears pressing back in embarrassment as his arm pulled you to him. He hated the attention, but the chieftains wouldn't have it. They pushed him to the center, where he was forced to give a piece of his mind.

He cleared his throat, his golden eyes immediately finding yours in the crowd as if to ground himself. “The peace you see today was not born in my mind,” he began, his voice steadying as he looked at you. “I am a warrior, I was ready to lead with my bow. But it was my woman who showed me the wisdom in a hand offered instead of an arrow. She gave me the strength to listen when I wanted to fight. If this land is a home today, it is because her heart guided my way.”

Neytiri turned to you and smiled as the men in the crowd roared to tease the warrior they’ve been acquainted with in the past moons. As he strode back to you, pulling you into a deep kiss of victory, a warrior from a different clan hooted from the side. “Careful, Neteyam! Keep your wits about you and don’t let her hit her head, or she might wake up and realize she could leave your ass behind!”

Neteyam let out a deep, resonant laugh, pulling you flush against his side. “I have no intention of ever letting her get far enough to find out!”

As the party reached its high, Neteyam’s eyes found yours, looking at you meaningfully, in a way that made your skin tingle. You raised a brow and he jerked his head toward the dark woods. You pushed your lips forward in a playful pout but tugged his hand anyway, leading him away from the noise and into the glowing embrace of the forest.

You skipped hand in hand, admiring the bioluminescent flora lighting your path and when you reached the secluded bend of the river, the sounds of the festival was nothing but a hum. You turned to him with a grin and, without a word, untied the ties of your beaded top. His hungry eyes followed the movement, his breath hitching as if he has not seen them for a hundred times already. You untied your loincloth next, letting it pool on the floor.

He watched you with an intensity that excited you, and when his own loincloth fell, you bit your lip, seeing of the hard-on you had become quite well-acquainted with over the past moons. The glow of the river and the forest illuminated his handsome face so perfectly your heart hammered against your chest. He is so handsome.

“Hi,” he whispered, his large arms on your waist pulling you close.

Your smile grew to a grin. “You’re silly,” you chuckled, pressing a palm against his muscled chest to gently push him back. “I’m going to swim... why are you holding me?”

Neteyam’s eyes narrowed playfully, a boyish grin spreading across his face as he leaned in, his nose brushing yours. “Oh, I think there are other things that need swimming, too,” he teased, his voice dropping as his hand caught yours, bringing it down so you could feel his hardened cock. “Your babies want to swim in you.”

“Neteyam!“ you called, almost swiveling your head around in case someone could hear him. You’ve learned, in the past moons, how lewd he can be with his words but your habit of looking around will probably stay for a few years more.

He angled his head to press a hard kiss against your lips. “What? Don’t you want our kids to have fun time?”

You laughed, the sound like bells in his ears. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “Am I in big trouble again?” you whispered against his ear.

He groaned. “You’re always going to be in big trouble with me if I had my way.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “I want to take care of you tonight...” you mumbled, your hand on his chest caressing his skin and pushing him back.

He raised a brow, always surprised still whenever you show him fire. You pulled him down to kiss him, your lips crashing into his with a hunger that made him vibrate in excitement. He let you push him back against the trunk of a towering tree, letting out a gravelly groan when his head thumped back against the bark.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you so flush against him that the ridge of his hard-on felt like it was imprinting itself on your belly. With practiced ease, he reached behind himself to bring his queue forward, while his other hand found yours behind you, making you break the kiss for just a second, watching through hooded eyes as the pink tendrils of your kurus began to reach and weave together.

The familiar psychic  jolt of his intense love, raw devotion and desire for you flooded your mind, feeling his heart hammering against your ears, echoing the rhythm of your own. His fingers cupped your jaw to kiss you again, ad you smiled against his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before trailing your lips down. You licked and kiss his neck, your palms staying flat on his chest, feeling the heavy thud of his heart as you kissed your way down over the hard ridges of his stomach.

“My warrior...” you murmured, kissing his lower abdomen.

You peered up at him, seeing his head pressed against the tree, but his eyes were looking down at you. You kissed sharp V-line of his hips before your hand reached out, fisting his girth. Neteyam’s breath hitched, a strangled sound escaping his throat as your hand began to move. The bond between your queues flared, sending waves of his pleasure crashing through the both of you.

“You are celebrated tonight,” you whispered, looking up at him with your innocent doe eyes that contrasted the sinful movement of your hands on him. “I think you deserve a reward, don't you?”

“Baby...” he rasped, his hands fisting as he tried to ground himself.

You didn't give him a chance to respond. You lowered your head, taking him into your mouth with a heat that made his entire body shudder. Through the bond, you felt the exact moment he weakened. His hands flew to your long braids as your mouth started sucking around his girth, your tongue playing with its underside, getting another sharp intake of his breath. You drew back slightly, then plunged deeper, taking more of him down your throat. You worked your mouth, your lips sealing around him that made him tremble. His fingers tightened in your braids in a gentle tug, guiding your movements, urging you faster.

Your tongue swirled, licked, teased, tracing the veins along his length. You felt him grow even harder in your mouth. You pulled back, then swallowed him again, your breath hitching as you felt the wide head deep inside your throat. His hips began to thrust, his hand on your jaw, meeting your eager mouth until you tasted him, the musky scent of his arousal filling your nostrils. Your throat ached, but the pleasure in his groans kept you moving.

“Oh, baby,” he gasped, his body trembling.

His hips bucked, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. You felt the first warm gush of him erupt into your mouth, hot and thick, and you swallowed as his body convulsed, still pouring into you. He groaned deeply, a powerful sound that made you shiver, his fingers digging into your hair as he emptied himself.

He slumped, his breathing ragged. “Enough, my love,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, trying to pull your head up.

But you weren’t finished. You wanted to clean him, to savor every last drop. You ignored his pleas, your tongue flicking out, licking away the remnants of his pleasure, tracing the underside of his shaft. You heard his sharp intake of breath, his abdominal muscles tensing again. He was literally fighting to hold onto his strength, and you felt his cock twitch, hardening slightly at your continued ministrations. You ran your tongue along the tip, then sucked gently, drawing out the last of his cum.

“Fuck. I regret teaching you, you know?” he said weakly, his knees buckling.

You glared at him before reluctantly releasing him, your lips glistening. He reached down, pulling you up with a sudden, fierce strength that lifted until your bodies collided. His mouth found yours in a hard, demanding kiss, his tongue plunged into your mouth, mirroring the thrusts of his shaft earlier, tangling with yours. You met him with equal fervor, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer still, your hips instinctively grinding against his.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw and your throat in a fiery path. He lifted you, cradling you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist before he lowered you gently against the soft moss. He knelt above you, his golden eyes devouring your body like a man starved. His hand traced the curve of your waist, then upward, toward your breasts. His fingers brushed against your nipple and you arched your back, a soft moan escaping your lips. He leaned down, his mouth closing over one of the pebbled tips, sucking hard. You gasped and shivered, your fingers tangling in his braids, pressing him closer. His tongue swirled around your breast, while his other hand kneaded the other, his thumb circling the aroused tip.

“What a great reward,” he groaned, his voice muffled against your flesh. He suckled hard that it made you arch your back both in ache and pleasure. He moved to the other breast, giving it the same intense attention until you cried out, your body writhing for more.

He pulled away, his eyes hot with a familiar predatory hunger in them. He shifted, kneeling between your legs, which had instinctively parted for him. He leaned down, his mouth moving lower. You moaned, knowing what was coming, your hips lifting in anticipation. His tongue flicked out, tracing the velvety folds of your pussy, already wet with anticipation,

He spread your lips, his tongue plunging directly into your clit, making you arch your back, your fingers scratching at his back. He licked, sucked, and torment, his mouth relentlessly sucking and his tongue playing more than it licks. He used his fingers, too, parting your lips to allowing his tongue full access on you. He tasted you, the salty-sweet essence, a taste that always drove him wild.

“So sweet,” he murmured against your folds his voice a low growl, his tongue flicking faster, harder.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your legs trembling, wrapping around his head, pressing him deeper into your pussy. You felt the suction of his mouth and the relentless assault of his tongue on your clit, and your orgasm coiled in your belly. You whimpered, unable to form words, only sounds of pure pleasure, your hips bucking as your body shivered with release, leaving you gasping. You felt the soft shudders of your pussy, contracting around his tongue.

He pulled away, moving above you, his hard cock pressing against your folds. You whimpered, still quivering from your orgasm that your pussy was still throbbing and incredibly sensitive. He still pushed though, the head of his cock sliding inside. You moaned and he pushed deeper, stretching you, and filling you completely.

You wrapped your arms around his body that hovered above yours, his eyes locked with yours. He began to move, a slow thrust, then another, pulling almost completely out before plunging back in deep and hard. The sounds of him sliding in and out of your wetness filled the air, mingling with your gasps and his grunts. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, urging him deeper and faster.

He gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, lifting you slightly to control the angle, to thrust even deeper. “Harder,” you pleaded, your voice hoarse, your hips bucking to meet his.

He responded instantly, his thrusts becoming a furious assault. He pounded into you, deep and relentless, filling you with every thrust. You felt yourself tightening around him, your muscles clenching. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring. You cried out his name, again and again, as your body convulsed, leaving you gasping, clinging to him.

He groaned, his body trembling above you as he thrusted a few more times, deep, desperate strokes. His body tensed, his seed erupting inside you, hot and thick, filling your womb with your babies that needed swimming. He collapsed onto you, heaving, his breath ragged against your neck. You lay there, your entwined bodies both slick with sweat and release.

He let out a long, shaky exhale, his tail giving one final, exhausted twitch against your leg. With a groan that sounded sated and delirious, he pulled out of you, watching the gush of his heavy and thick cum dripping out of you. “You emptied me,” he mumbled, his voice thick.

You chuckled, breathless. “Complaining, are we? You’re the one who started talking about ‘swimmers’ in the middle of our conversation,” you smirked.

Neteyam let out a dry, boyish laugh, propping himself up on one elbow. He looked down at your stomach, then back at your face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I believe in my warriors. They’re fast.”

You groaned, reaching up to swat his chest, but he caught your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Neteyam, if my mother sees me walking back looking like this, I’m going to receive a scolding.”

“Tell her you are a mated woman,” he suggested shamelessly, pulling you closer until your head was resting on his chest.

“Neteyam... They don’t know that yet. We are following the traditions!” you whisper-shouted playfully. “Beside, what happened to being modest for my parents?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

He laughed, a genuine, chest-shaking sound that made you feel warm all over again. He rolled to his side, his hand grabbing your waist with a renewed look of heat in his eyes that made you groan. You sat up and his head angled to catch the pebbled tip of your breast into his mouth.

“‘Teyam...” your hand clutched at his shoulder.

“Just one more...” he said, his words muffled because he had your flesh in his mouth.

You bit you lip and laid back on the soft moss, spreading your thighs as your hand caressed the soft skin on his back. You watched his large, formidable form hover over you, his thick and long cock already pointing at your pussy as if it knows its target. You shivered at the sight of it, your excitement vibrating in your body. His hand clasped under your knee and pushed your leg back, stretching you before his cock nudged your entrance.

His other hand moved over your pussy, his thumb rubbing your sensitive nub as his length disappeared in you. You moaned a long one, arching your back, offering your rounded breasts to him and he lowered his head to take one into his mouth, his tongue immediately swirling on your nipple. In a sudden, hard movement, his hand on your hips pulled you to him, burying himself to the hilt inside you.

“Ah!” you moaned, your thighs quivering to close around him but he kept them open, restraining both of them tightly befote delivering a series of hard and intense pounding.

You held onto him, your eyes flying open and meeting his. You probably looked so aroused and fucked, because his pupils blew even wider, almost swallowing the gold. Your mouth remained perpetually gaped, releasing jagged breaths and moans as he continued pumping into you. Your hand pressed against his lower abdomen and his thrusts quickened and hardened even more.

He lowered his head to kiss you, his tongue immediately plunging into your open mouth. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his hard muscles contrasting his soft skin until all the sensations he’s giving you pushed you to the edge. He came first, shuddering above you despite his efforts to hold out longer. You hugged him tighter when you felt yourself erupt.

He kissed your neck softly, feeling your body shudder against him, you legs literally quivering as your walls clenched around him to milk him dry. He chuckled, pressing a hard kiss against your jaw. “I told you. Big trouble.”

You let your head fall on the mossy ground, feeling him lick the skin on your exposed neck. “I think I can handle the trouble,” you murmured. “As long as it’s yours.”

He squeezed your hip, giving you a lingering kiss. “I love you so much, space cadet,” he mumbled. “Now, let’s put on act that we just swam in the river and are too tired to return to the festival.”

[kahkae]

olo’eyktan!ao’nung x fem metkayina!reader

summary: Live, laugh, love Neteyam is Aonung's motto, too bad you're his wife and you gotta deal with it.

warnings: none<3 (or so I think)

a/n: Had to pick up a pen and a notebook to write this because my phone won’t charge one rainy night. Apologies for errors I barely understand the English language lol.

wc: 638

"He leads well" you confided to Tsireya.

"Well, I guess father and mother did a great job on him if you think so." replying giggly with the thought of her parent's struggle on shaping Ao'nung into a perfect man.

He stands tall within the crowd, his presence undeniable—a sharp look with a broad stance. But beyond the weight burdened to a man, there lies a longing of something he wishes he still has. It could be his mother, long gone deceased by the war. Or perhaps his closest friend, Rotxo. But at times when he is overwhelmed with responsibilities and expectation, there's that one he seeks without question.

"I heard you were looking for the Olo'eyktan, he is at the spirit tree." a warrior informed as you wandered around the village looking for him.

Ao'nung missing in action before a big hunt or a raid on RDA ships is a routine you weren't oblivious of, as his mate you practically memorized his time table when he visits the Spirit Tree.

Three minutes for his mom—just because that's the longest he can do without breaking down. Five minutes with Rotxo as they swim with llus riding off into the sunset.

And a volatile amount of time with his mighty warrior, Neteyam.

You often believe it depends on the risk of their next trip, carefully watching from the surface waiting on him by the rocks making sure he doesn't confuse reality to a tsaheylu's power as he comes back up—and that, that is the way of love you settled with for him. Ao’nung never rejected the idea of finding one's mate and creating a family together to raise a new generation. You on the other hand, follow traditions and the belief that this is the will of Eywa—to be tied down peacefully and respectfully meet each others needs, even though it seems that every worry your mate has in his mind, it is the spirit a dead man he seeks.

"We all have that one person we loved so dearly we cant let them go easily, don't we?"

A question that lingered in your mind whenever you see him taking his time as his queue connected to the branches of the tree, or perhaps a question that you'd rhetorically throw at anyone who dares questioned your relationship.

Ao'nung provides and cares deeply for you, willingly starting a family and eagerly courts you until the right opportunity came. But at nights when the two of you lay on your shared hammock and he puts his arm around as you rest your head on his chest, you couldn't help but wonder if he ever imagined—wished even—it was Neteyam instead, lying down at the shore hearing the waves graze upon each other as they looked at constellations and talked about the time they'd go on little trips across the islands together.

You'd be snapped from that thought as Ao'nung slowly rests his weight on you after spending long hours on Olo'eyktan duties in the village, It didn't took you long to realize you weren't mad or sad about it. Instead, pity for him would crash over you with the fact that Eywa let him meet someone he was able to have but also take him away because of the blood that flows through him.

"I couldn't be happier with you here for me, that is enough." Ao'nung would whisper, like a mind reader when he notices your eyes reflecting the twinkling of the stars in the dark as beads of tears forms.

And so you close your eyes like you do every night since you understood the situation you were getting yourself into.

You're chosen because you're there at times when his grief overpowered his life, and what better way of repaying your loyalty than taking you as his mate for life.

[fireflynavi]

Obsessed

Jake Sully x Human Female Reader | word count: 5k

✧ content warning: 18+, explicit smut, jake being a slut in the jumpsuit, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, size kink, bioluminescent cum

✧ in the scenario that neytiri never came to rescue him

Overview: Jake Sully. You were obsessed with him the moment you laid eyes on him as a wanted traitor back on Earth. When you're working as security for the RDA on Pandora years later and they bring him in, of course you weren’t leaving him alone. You irritated the heck out of him. But Jake was a man—with a man’s urges—and things take a spicy turn.

Boredom. It was a funny kind of torture.

One that could drive you to do something you wouldn’t normally do.

Jake’s angst from being imprisoned had long settled into a sickening boredom deep in the pit of his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling of his cell vacantly. It was a small and dreary cell, but it beat being out in that glass container like some sort of zoo animal. 

His usual thoughts and questions played over in his head on a loop; how long was he going to be rotting in this hell hole? How long had it been already? Months, probably. Was he ever getting out? He was sure he’d lose his mind before his life. At least when the time came he’d be numb enough to not give a damn, he supposed.

He closes his eyes as he slumps back against the cold concrete, surrounded by only the faintest hum of machinery deep in the RDA prison walls.

Neytiri.

God, he missed her.

He picture’s her face again—his beautiful girl. His queen, his only salvation in this wretched place.

What he’d give to be with her right now.

What he’d do if he were with her right now.

He despised the orange prison jumpsuit he’d been living in. It was itchy as all heck. He only kept the damn thing on for modesty and to keep him from freezing his ass off, but he wanted nothing more than to strip from it and throw it a mile. Burn it, even. And the rest of the RDA base while he was at it.

He settles with unzipping it and rolling it to the waist, freeing his upper body as he scratches at his arms. He runs a palm down his face, slumping back against the wall.

Neytiri’s ass.

The thought flits across his mind out of nowhere.

He loved her ass—how perky and cute it was. He particularly loved it when she wore her flight leggings—the ones with the cutouts on either side, revealing just enough to have him distracted from whatever it was he was doing.

Jake, stop wasting time looking at me like that and grab those bags, she’d hiss.

His hand taps against his thigh as he closes his eyes, his mind drifting.

Her breasts were perky, too; small and soft, his favourite place to bury his face when he needed some comfort. He loved how her nipple felt in his mouth—the way he would flick his tongue over it slowly while he brushed his thumb in circles around the other one and have her moaning the sweetest noise.

Fuck, he missed that.

He exhales deeply through his nose as he feels the material of the jumpsuit shift around his stirring cock. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cum. It wasn’t on the forefront of his mind—naturally—what with being taken hostage and having his life ripped from his hands—but now he really had a moment to think about it, he was gagging for a release.

His thumbs twirl loosely in his lap as he peers at the dingy corridor just beyond the glass. Quiet. He glances at the ceiling. No camera bearing down on him in this cell like the last; the RDA were getting a little too comfortable with him being captive, it seemed.

His fingers wander to his crotch as he keeps cautious eyes on the corridor, ears pricked and alert for any signs of movement. When they find nothing, he slides a hand over his growing semi, feeling it twitch in response. 

He sighs through his nose and his eyes fall shut as he tries to train his thoughts back to Neytiri, doing his best to envision laying in the comfortable hammock with her instead of touching himself on a dirty prison cell floor.

He delves into his memories; playing the pretty little sounds she made when they fucked, how she moaned his name as he buried himself balls deep, how it felt clenching around his dick. When she took control and rode him—heck—that was one of his favourites; watching those perky little tits bounce in his face, his hands engulfing her waist as she rode until her heart was content.

Ma’Jake! F-feels so good…

Please Jake, more, more

Jake! It’s so big, I’m—I’m— 

“Fuck”, he moans, rubbing his fully masted cock through the orange material, eyebrows knitted in concentration. 

He reaches into the jumpsuit with urgency, pulling it out parallel to his stomach. His breathing grows heavy as he circles the beading pre-cum over the head, watching as it glows faintly under the harsh cell lighting. Jacking his load was going to make a mess—there was nothing discreet about it’s bioluminescent hue—but fuck it, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

He adjusts his positioning, head back against the wall with his other hand resting on the floor as he starts wanking, sliding the cup of his hand up and down the shaft with a slight twist at the tip, just the way he liked.

Yeah, you like that baby?

He pictures it from behind; doggy style, cock slipping between ass cheeks like butter, gripping it hard in both hands, spanking it and making it sting with a light slap.

Yeah, you fuckin’ do, takin’ my cock so good-

A moan escapes him louder this time and his eyes snap open, pupils constricting at the light before flaring wide as a warm pulse of pleasure courses through his cock. He looks down, watching the foreskin drag over the head and back down to reveal the angry slit, his tightly clamped hand gliding over the ridges of veins pulsing more hungrily by the second. He swallows, eyes rolling shut as he leans back and loses himself.

-

You hum to yourself as you swipe your access card through the slot, the thick metal doors sliding open with a hiss of air.

You still couldn’t believe it—even all these months later—that you got to see Jake Sully in the flesh. The Jake Sully, the lifelong celebrity crush that got you all hot and flustered.

You were just a teenager when you saw him broadcasted for the first time on the big screens back on Earth; an ex-marine turned Na’vi traitor, they said, turning against his own race for the planet he’d fallen in love with. People scoffed at the idea, but in your eyes? He was a damn hero. Admirable, fascinating and so sexy. He’d been your obsession ever since. 

Then your wish was granted and you landed a job in security with the RDA, getting sent to work on Pandora like you always hoped you would, bringing you one step closer to him. When they finally captured and brought him in, you thought you might pass out on the spot—watching from the rowdy crowd with stars in your eyes as they dragged him handcuffed through the depot yard. It was safe to say that leaving him alone wasn’t an option.

He wasn’t friendly with you, as such. But still, it didn’t deter you. 

You would stare up at him in the glass container, in that godforsaken jumpsuit he looked so good in, wondering how they even made those for Na’vi sized bodies. You laughed, picturing Quaritch sewing it himself in his personal time while blushing and giggling at the thought of Jake wearing it. 

Jake started noticing you always hanging around, gawking at him, and he got sick of you fast. 

His first tactic was to try and scare you off—baring his teeth and hissing or smashing his fists against the glass—glaring at you with the most viciously hot look you’d ever seen. When you’d giggle in delight he realised his efforts were futile and gave up—resorting to brooding in a slump with his head between his knees, dreads falling forward, hiding his face.

Then he moved to the indoor wing, where you volunteered at the drop of a hat to keep watch of his cell. It was when you first heard his voice; deep and soft, the kind that vibrated your ribs and made your stomach flip. 

You would amble past when on duty, trying to spark up a conversation.

What’s it like out there in the forest, Jake? I’m dying to know

Hi Jake! You look great today—well, every day, really. Fancy a chat?

Tell me, what’s it like, flying the great Toruk? It must feel powerful

You were usual met with silence, grunting, hissing, or—if you were lucky—an offensive remark or threat. Those you loved the most.

How ‘bout you shove it where the sun don’t shine, hm?

Mouthy little fuck, aren’t you

You’re real lucky there’s glass between us, princess 

Then there were the mind games—when he was especially bored enough to fuck with your head or desperate enough to beg.

Y’know, you woulda been just my type back on Earth

Hey, pretty. Why don’tcha let me out, hm? Show you some of the forest if you want

Can’t you see ‘m suffering? Help me out here, sweetheart, please

It made you feel guilty—of course it did. But you knew that he was dangerous. And if he had the chance, he would be gone in a flash. And that didn’t sit well with you.

You turn the corner, approaching Jake’s cell—imagining his beautiful stubborn face when you hear it.

A soft sound, like whimpering or moaning, and it stops you dead in your tracks. 

You duck stealthily, placing one cautious foot in front of the other as you approach the wall separating you from the view of his cell. Your pulse quickens as the sounds come clearer now; Jake’s ragged breathing, the soft slapping sound of… well, you could only imagine what that was. You bite your lip, heat building between your legs at the thought. 

And then his voice; low, barely audible. 

“Fuck, just like that… so good, baby…”

Your eyes fly wide as you clamp a hand over your mouth. Is he… jerking off?

The warmth in your pussy spreads like wildfire. 

You take a silent breath before peering around the corner just enough to catch a glimpse of Jake, and you almost trip over yourself.

He’s a hot mess against the back wall of his cell, his prison jumpsuit in a creased heap at his hips, exposing a torso forged in the heavens. His pretty blue skin is rivered with intriguing tabby-like stripes, the faint glint of glowing dots under the cell light running in ribbons along his chest and down his thick arms. 

But that’s not what holds your attention. Your eyes are like saucers as you glance down to where he’s jerking off a blue cock bigger than what your imagination was capable of. His stomach muscles clench with the effort, legs twitching as he wanks vigorously, his face twisted and furrowed in pleasure. 

Holy fucking Jesus.

You hold your breath as you scramble back behind the wall, wondering what the heck to do. Turn and sneak away quietly? Touch yourself here while he does it? That would be so hot… 

You squeeze your thighs together, feeling the slick already spreading in your panties.

No… better idea.

“Hey, Jake!”

The speed at which he stuffs his cock under his jumpsuit in a clambering jolt is impressive, his ears flattening to his head as his bewildered eyes dart up to you approaching the glass. 

“You?” He pants as he blinks furiously, attempting to calm his erratic breathing and hold back the climax he was on the brink of, his dick throbbing beneath the jumpsuit at the sudden lack of attention. “What the fuck are you-? How long have you been here?”

“Just on shift and came to check on you. Everything ok? You seem up-tight.”

He hisses a tight laugh through his teeth. “Back to fuckin’ bother me again, huh?” He sighs, his breath starting to slow. “At least give me damn warning when you turn up…”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Why? Have you got something to hide?”

He bears his fangs, growling.

“I mean, I did sort of hear…” your lips pull tight in an awkward grimace, “some noises… sounds like you’re in need of some relief.”

He glares hard, mumbling through tight lips. “I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt that…” you blush as your eyes fall to his huge blue hands.

His eyes narrow from across the cell. “You weren’t just checking up on me, were you?”

“I— of course I was, why would you think that?”

His expression shifts subtly, a hint of amused mockery curling at the corners of his mouth. “‘Cause I can smell that you’re being dirty, cupcake.”

Your eyes widen. Oh.

Jake shifts to a stand, tail swinging as he goes and you practically see the gravity that surrounds his enormous movements as he approaches the glass and crouches to your eye level.

His green-gold eyes are huge and snake like as he glowers at you, his voice rumbling. “You interrupted me on purpose.”

You swallow. He was extremely intimidating up close—you were still getting used to the sheer size of him—but the safety of the glass between you gave you confidence. “Maybe.”

“Can’t fuckin’ leave me alone, can you?” He chuckles cynically. “My little adoring fan. Why you so obsessed with me, hm? Haven’t you got somethin’ better to do?”

“I wanna help you, Jake,” you murmur with the best manipulative concern you can conjure as you peer at him from beneath your lashes.

“That right?” He tilts his head, eyeing you like a piece of prey he could deal with in seconds. “Cute, ain’tcha.”

A smile lights up your blushing face. “You mean it?”

His throat rumbles, face falling flat. “Still just an RDA piece of shit.”

You wince. Savage. Would he ever let up?

You were going to have to take things a step further—try a different angle. Be a little more… forward. 

He was on the brink of ecstasy just now when you interrupted. Surely, if you could just tempt him a little, get him while he was weak…

It’s a dangerous plunge, but you take it.

You sigh theatrically. “Well, now I’m here, I could help you finish what you started…”

Jake’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “Are you fuckin’ serious right now?”

You shrug casually. “Wanna see some boob, Jake? Must have been a while…”

“You’re at work, for fuck’s sake, someone could come in here and find you at any moment,” he glances at the corridor wearily as though merely talking about this might summon a bunch of RDA staff.

“They could,” you unbutton your polo shirt just enough so that the top of your cleavage is on show. “But I told them I had your wing handled tonight, so…” you strip off your jacket with a grin, letting it fall to the floor. “Highly doubt anyone will be coming here.”

Before he can manage another word or hiss, you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and discarding it at your feet as you shake your hair from your face.

“Stop being a slut,” he mumbles feebly as his eyes drop to your chest.

The last time Jake saw a human woman’s body was back on Earth, twenty odd years ago in a life he barely recognises. Usually—women he met at the bar every so often—ones that took a liking to him, intrigued to know what sex was like with a man on wheels. Or on nights that were more desperate—the ones at the strip club; pretty girls wearing next to nothing, spinning on chrome poles as they blushed at his charming drunken grin, which often led to a lap dance, which sometimes led to more. 

He’d forgotten how good it looked—your tits full and round in your bra, pale pink nipples peeking through lace, waist cinching in to make way for curvier hips than he was accustomed to. Thighs thick with meat that looked like they could stave off hunger for weeks. But, despite your voluptuousness, you were so tiny in comparison to him—a little pink doll he could man-handle in any way he wanted to in this form. And that turned him on.

“What did you call me?” You tease, bringing him back to his senses, and his eyes darken.

“Filthy slut.”

“Mm,” you giggle, squeezing your arms so your breasts push together slightly. “Please, Jake? I’ll do and say whatever you need me to. You can use me.”

Fucking hell.

Jake swallows, his throat bobbing visibly as his cock starts hardening against his will. He was weak.

“I don’t even know who you are,” he murmurs, “and you don’t know me.”

“Exactly.”

He huffs a laugh as he looks down, jutting his jaw, exposing his bottom teeth.

“If I give you what you want, this one time, will you promise to leave me the fuck alone?”

You bite your cheek. “Deal.”

He pauses before looking back up with a wolfish grin, shrugging something off his shoulder as if he’s made a decision. “Alright, then.”

He stands, towering above you before retreating to the back wall and sinking down, tail curling around him on the floor as he looks at you expectantly.

“Well? Wanna put on some kinda show for me? Knock yourself out, sweetheart,” he jeers.

You stand frozen for a moment, flustered under the intensity of his golden gaze, from the new sinful glint in it. Alright, then.

He watches with an amused flick of his tail as you turn your back to him. You frustrated the hell out of him, but he had to admit this was the most entertainment he’d had in months.

He tracks your movements as you pull your hair over the front of your shoulder before reaching for the clasp of your bra—unhooking it—letting the straps fall down slowly until it slips off, exposing the curve of your bare back.

You glance over your shoulder and catch his eyes quickly flit up to yours, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. You had his attention—that’s for sure. You turn to face him, watching as his eyes drop to meet your chest—his pupils flaring a fraction.

Yeah, you had him. 

You trace slow fingers up your stomach until you reach your boobs and you start to play; squeezing at the soft plush, pushing them together, pink nipples trapping between your fingers as you massage with a soft giggly moan. “That feels good.”

The words throb like a dull ache through his cock. Really, that weak for a pair of tits Jake, hm?

“You like it, Sully?” You grin, pulling your lip between your teeth, fuelled by the confidence of seeing him hardening beneath the jumpsuit. “Don’t be shy, you can touch it if you want.”

The laugh escapes his lungs in a huff.

“You always been such a forward slut?” His voice is husky as his hand moves closer to his groin unthinkingly, his motives becoming increasingly basic. 

“No,” you take a slow, deliberate stride towards him, touching the glass boundary separating you. “But I have thought about this enough to know exactly how it goes.”

Jake’s eyes dart between yours rapidly, his ears flattening in defeat as the last thread of his restraint snaps.

“Push them against it.”

It’s a deep and soft-spoken command that you obey at once.

The glass is freezing—your nipples stiffening into peaks as you flatten them against the transparent wall. 

“Damn,” Jake mumbles, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as his hand finally meets his dick beneath the jumpsuit.

“Let me see?” You whine.

“Earn it,” he retorts flatly. “Pants down.”

You do as your told, doe eyes locking with his as you undo your flies and slip your thumbs into the waistband of your pants, rolling the tight material down your thighs with deliberate leisure.

When the pants finally drop in a heap at your ankles, Jake stares fixated at the outline of your folds beneath the plain white material of your panties. The slight damp spot peeking out from underneath your clit where you’d already been getting wet for him—the suppleness of your pale plump thighs. Fuck. His cock pulses in his tightening hand.

And then the smell of you hits his nose—that faint, familiar musky sweetness, and any last rational shred of human left inside Jake evaporates.

His eyes are trained on you as he scrambles to his knees, crawling to the glass on all fours until his forehead is inches away from your groin. He pushes his nose flat into the surface, eyes closing as he inhales your scent deep into his lungs, filling them entirely before sighing out in relief. 

The reaction startles you at first as you stare down at his urgent nuzzling; his tail swatting behind him wildly, palms splayed across the glass, fully engrossed. And then it floods you with heat—seeing him become a desperate beast just from the scent of you. It makes you feel powerful.

“You want this pussy, Jake?” You bite your tongue, your voice escaping you a pitch higher than you expected. 

His eyes fly open, big pupils drawing in at the light before he peers up at your face. He falls back onto his haunches, ears flat to his skull—and for a moment he looks like he’s just been scolded, embarrassed at what he’s just done—but he quickly recovers it with a tilt of his head and a well-practiced cunning smirk. “Trust me, you wouldn’t like it, baby.”

Your stomach turns. “Like what?”

“What I’d do to it if I wasn’t behind this.”

You barely have time to register what he just said when he’s reaching into the jumpsuit, his eyes not leaving your dumb parted lips as he pulls his glorious erection out in front of you. 

“C’mon pretty, you wanted this.” His sultry eyes roam over your tits again, pre-cum pooling at the slit of his dick. He circles it around the deep purple head, collecting the glowing slick before using it as lube to pump strokes up and down the length, his other hand reaching under to hold his balls. “Be a good girl and get those panties down, now.”

Your knees wobble as you bend and slide the white briefs down your thighs with jelly-like fingers, exposing yourself entirely. Your pussy is puffy and wide with arousal—the slight glint of glossy slick running down the pink centre under the light. 

“Mm fuck, that’s a pretty cunt,” he growls quietly, his jerking picking up pace, filling the air with sounds of soft slapping and squelching.

“So, I’m interested…” you squeak, biting your lip as you trail a hand down to touch your swollen clit, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at how it feels. “What would you do to it?”

Jake chuckles weakly as he follows your hand. “Y’really wanna know?”

“Mmm,” you moan—half at his voice, half at the warmth building under your hand.

“A cunt that small?” He groans through tight lips “I’d split you in half, baby. Be limpin’ for days, if I didn’t crush you first.”

“Yeah?” You pant, your heart hammering in your chest as you rub quicker circles around your wettening clit, your other hand holding your weight up against the glass. “You’d fill me up?”

“You’d be screaming for me to stop with my cock up to your lungs.”

“Fuck, Jake,” you can’t help but let out a breathy giggle at how filthy he was. “And then?”

“I’d eat that sweet pussy until you’re pushin’ me away, beggin’ for mercy. Then I’d fuck you senseless, use you as my little fuck toy until you’re bleeding my glowing cum-” his breath hitches at the overwhelming pressure building deep in his tight blue balls.

“I want that so bad,” you groan as the pleasure pulses under your fingers, the coil tightening in your low belly. 

“Yeah?” He swallows roughly, his voice coming out cracked and raw. “Y’gonna get off for me, hm?” The tip of his cock throbs violently with the need to cum, but he slows down his strokes, holding it. He wants to watch you first—wants to see you clench up with your orgasm. He knows it’ll make his high more worthwhile. “Turn around, push it against the glass so I can see.”

Your flushed body trembles as you turn and push your ass against it, cheeks spreading to display your tight pink slit to him.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers from behind you, leaning over on his knees—one hand splayed against the glass to hold himself up as his hips jerk forward into his hand. “That’s it, bend over fr’me baby.”

You groan at the contrast in temperature on your hot cunt—feeling the coolness slide over it as you bend further, revealing more to Jake than you ever imagined you would—but you didn’t care; it felt good.

“Jesus, would y’look at that,” he mumbles, more to himself than aloud as he tilts his head, absorbed in studying your heat. “So fuckin’ tight. Touch yourself, I wanna see that pretty cunt cum fr’me.”

Your knees bow together as you return to rubbing your clit, pleasure filling you back up immediately. “Jake,” you mewl as your head flops forward limply. “Wish you were inside me right now.”

“Yeah, you do,” he purrs smugly at the sight of your pussy clenching over nothing against the glass.

You rub quicker, starting to rock against it for stimulation—making sure to moan louder than you normally would just to please him. “Mmfuck, Jake, ‘m gonna-“ you knit your eyebrows as it gets closer, hips rocking faster until your stomach’s clenched up with a tight pressure.

“Urgh, baby that’s it, keep goin’,” Jake pants, his stomach clenching rapidly with effort—sweat beading at his temple as he fucks his slick hand with full force, arm muscles flexing with the strain. “‘M gonna fuckin’ explode, cum baby cum.”

The knot clenched in your stomach snaps at his word and you reach your high—a guttural sputtering sound leaving you as wave after wave of white-hot bliss pours through your pussy and down your legs. You moan and wail nonsense as you slide down the glass, your knees giving way.

“C’mon baby, back up, keep there fr’me,” Jake chokes out. You scramble back up to where he’s leaning over you behind the glass—his cock lined up to where your cunts still spasming with after-waves.

“Oh fuck, sht-“

You watch through your legs with childlike wonder as he finally cums—hard, and a lot—whimpering and groaning as he rocks faltering thrusts into his hand, nose scrunched tightly, white fangs bared in all their glory as he presses his forehead to the glass—his cock pumping splashes of thick luminous liquid between you. You drop down to your knees, spinning around to watch with your hands against it, fascinated. 

Jake falls forward on his knees, trembling with his palm against the floor as he tries to catch his breath from one of the best climaxes of his damn life. He was certain it was just from going so long without it—not to do with you and everything about what you just did. 

He stuffs his spent cock away, swiftly pulling the orange jumpsuit back over himself as he chuckles breathily, the ghost of a sneer back in his tone. “This ain’t an aquarium, cupcake, you can stop gawkin’.”

He retreats in a struggled crawl to his wall, collapsing down in the position you found him in when you got here—tail curling over his thigh defensively—but you see the post-orgasm glow radiating from him as he gazes at you; his shoulders slackened, eyes swimming with a fuzzy haze, the slight dark flush of his striped cheeks, ears hanging loosely.

You hold his gaze—your hair a ruffled-up mess, cheeks ruddy—and you lick it. A small, slow swipe with the flat of your tongue against the glass where the cum is.

“Jesus…” he mumbles with a gravelly laugh. “You really are a filthy slut, aren’t you.”

“I am for you,” you grin toothily. “You can have anything you want from me.”

“How ‘bout some freedom?”

Your grin quickly falls into a pout, your brow furrowed. “But I’d miss you.”

“Cute,” he smirks thinly. “How ‘bout we start with you being a doll and fetching somethin’ to clean this up, sweetheart, hm?” He nods at the dripping mess in front of you. 

“I like it when you call me cute names,” you say, hugging your knees absent-mindedly. 

“Hey,” the growl in his voice snaps you out of it. “We had a deal, remember? Don’t push it, princess.”

You stand, starting to gather your clothes in a sulk. “Let’s not forget how you lost it at the smell of this,” you murmur, gesturing to your groin as you pull your pants back on. “That image isn’t leaving my head any time soon.”

He narrows his eyes at you, tail swatting the floor—silenced.

“Thought so,” you smirk brashly. “I’ll be back with a rag to send in.”

You pull your jacket on, flicking your hair out over it as you turn and make your way down the corridor, leaving Jake watching after you—eyes skimming the sway of your hips as you walk in a way he hadn’t even noticed before. 

He drops his head back against the wall as he sighs, feeling giddy—wondering what the hell he’d just done—his body light and satisfied, the best he’d felt in a long time.

He knew you weren’t going to leave him alone just because you said you would—course you weren’t—he wasn’t stupid.

The problem was, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted you to. 

tysm for reading!! 🫶🏻 i enjoyed writing this one very much. let me know in the comments if you'd be keen to see a part 2 of this where reader does actually get behind the glass 🫢

[vivenecii]

I love them, your honor

[smuttyjane]

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[fireflynavi]

Attagirl

✧ Jake Sully x Female Reader | word count: 4k

✧ content warning: explicit smut, first time, age gap, dilf Jake, size kink, breeding kink, 18+ MDNI

pov: Jake coaches you through your first climax before taking your virginity

Didn’t plan for this to be quite so long but promise it’s worth the wait

“That’s right, hold it up. Strong arms, just like that,” Jake encourages, guiding your arms up as you hold the string of your bow taut, ready to shoot. Your muscles stiffen at his fingers against your skin, and you hope by Eywa he doesn’t pick up on it.

You’d been crushing on your Olo'eyktan for many eclipses, blushing like a school girl every time he’d offer to train you, butterflies swirling in your stomach every time he walked past you in the clearing and shot you a smile, your heart skipping a beat when he joined a group conversation you were having, making you go silent. You found yourself becoming distracted when he’d talk to you, your mind wandering off to what it would feel like to touch his arms, his chest, to have his hands on you; to have him be your first.

You knew it was bad. He was older than you; your clan leader, Toruk Makto. But it only made you more intrigued, more attracted to him, like he was a forbidden fruit you wanted to sink your teeth into.

“Pull!” his voice snaps you back and you do as he says, releasing your arrow and watching it plummet into the target.

“Attagirl,” he grins proudly.

You blush. So handsome.

“T-thank you, Jake,” you stammer quickly as you tuck a braid behind your ear, looking down at your feet, and he notices. The thoughts were particularly strong today and you were struggling to keep it beneath the surface.

“Everythin’ ok? You seem a little tense,” he furrows his brow, dipping his head down to try and catch your eyes.

You lift your shy gaze to meet his, subconsciously pinching your lip between your teeth, and Jake’s concerned expression shifts, his eyes glinting with a restrained mischief as he smiles.

“Distracted, huh,” he says, reaching out and taking your bow from you. You nod, embarrassed as you try to grapple for words, for anything, but your mind draws a blank.

“Need a release?” he asks softly, his tone innocent, but that glint in his eye makes you suspect he’s not talking about anything innocent. He’s figured you out. Crap.

“How about we go for a walk ‘n you can tell me what’s on your mind, hm?” he suggests, slinging your bow over his torso alongside his hunting knife and sheath as he starts striding towards the thicket of the forest, you padding along behind him.

The afternoon sun pours translucent streaks of light through the trees as you walk, shoulder to shoulder, arms brushing against each other occasionally.

“So…” he breaks the silence, and when you don’t respond, he looks down at you, dreads falling into his face. “What’s got you all riled up?”

You try not to swallow too hard, fiddling with the band on your arm. “Err, well.. It’s just, um...” your words fumble out, ears hot, and Jake smirks as he watches you. He comes to a halt, grabbing your arm softly, turning you to face him.

“Hey, no need to be shy with me, kid. Can tell me anything, y’know that, right?”

“Yes, sir- I mean, Jake, sorry,” it accidentally slips and you laugh nervously, ears flat, your cheeks glowing the colour of Toruk himself. Last time you called him that he told you not to, saying there was no need to be so formal. But secretly, you loved calling him that, when you thought about him at night, imagining all kinds of things that you were ashamed of.

He chuckles, bringing a finger up to brush away a stray strand of hair that’s stuck to your cheek. “Look kid, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. You’re one of the Omatikaya’s finest young hunters. Been watchin’ you flourish from a girl into the beautiful, strong young woman you are now. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind t'me.”

You stare at him, stunned.

He takes a step closer, and your knees go weak at how he much taller than you he is. “So what’s got you holdin’ onto this tension, hm?”

“I’ve,” you mumble, your mind racing, “been thinking a lot about…”

“About?” he prompts, ears pricked forward.

“You,” the word slips out, small but heavy, and you freeze, staring straight ahead at his chest. You watch his steady breath, his muscles rise and fall. He’s so close you can see every freckle, feel like you could reach out and trace lines between his tanhi. Breathtaking..

He laughs gently, a chuckle that vibrates and you look up to meet his gaze. His eyes gleam with the satisfaction of you finally coming out with it.

“And what in particular about me?” he asks, playing with you just a little longer, enjoying this game. His hand is slowly sweeping your hair away from your shoulder as his eyes run over your neck, inspecting you intently and it gives you goosebumps.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you gaze up at him, doe-eyed.

He meets it with an amused smugness pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Should’a said somethin’ sooner, sweetheart. I can help you, if you’ll let me?”

Your stomach somersaults. “Y-yes, please.”

“Ok, babygirl,” he utters softly, big hands snaking around your waist at your permission. He pulls you flush to him and your hands fall on his chest, your every nerve becoming a live flame at his touch, the feel of his skin against you, his palms rough, warm, comforting, his stomach and chest soft yet sturdy. You can’t believe you’re finally pressed up against the body your eyes have wandered over so many times.

Your breathing grows heavier as he leans down and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, stroking it against you before planting light kisses. His jaw brushes along yours, covering you with his scent, and your hands reach for his shoulders, gripping onto him as your head rolls back and a humming sound you don’t recognize as your own starts vibrating from somewhere deep inside.

“Jake..” you whisper breathily.

A deep purr erupts from his chest, the tip of his tail flicking in enjoyment at hearing his name fall from your lips. He brings a hand up and slips it craftily under the sash covering your breasts, groping one, lightly squeezing the soft plush before thumbing your nipple, turning it solid. You whimper and he snakes the hand down to the front of your loincloth, but you jolt back, the foreign touch overwhelming.

He pauses, coming up to look you in the eye, and that’s when it twigs.

“Are you.. have you never been touched like this?”

You shake your head, biting your lip.

“I’ve never… um, you know..”

“Come?” he finishes for you, so blasé, and you blush, hard.

“Mm,” you nod

His face breaks into a slow smirk. “Oh, princess. Pretty gal like you I just assumed..”

His gaze drops to your mouth and he leans in, licking his lips before pressing them gently against yours and your eyes flutter shut, brain going hazy. You feel like you’re levitating off the ground, head spinning as your lips intertwine, feeling his nose brush against yours, his warm breath. You open your eyes a fraction and see his closed ones, eyelashes resting on his cheeks, angelic yet ruggedly handsome.

He takes control of the kiss, tongue pushing against your lips, asking for entry, and you allow it, opening up for him. A soft moan falls from you as he explores your mouth with his, tongue gliding expertly over yours as his hand engulfs your cheek.

You start to get the hang of it, feeling the rhythm, the way his face pushes back and forth against you, the way his lips move slowly yet passionately in hungry bursts. You mimic it, gripping his cheek, applying your own pressure, your tongue swirling around his and you feel a rush as he groans deeply. The heat pools in your stomach, dripping lower, the wet in your loincloth growing.

“Goddamn, baby, you kiss real good,” he pulls away with a growl, breathing heavily. He brings his thumb to your lips and slowly pushes it in. You take it, wrapping your mouth around it, sucking on instinct.

He moves it in and out slowly, watching with hooded eyes, his mouth parted, before pulling it out with a shaky chuckle. “Damn, losin’ myself there. Needa focus on making you feel good. C’mere, angel.”

You gasp as he bends and lifts you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around him as he takes you to a nearby tree. He lays you down against the base of it, making sure you’re comfortable, propped up slightly, getting it just right. You reach for him with outstretched arms, making him fall onto you. “Need you,” you whimper quietly.

“I know, cupcake,” he coos. He reaches over to remove your bow from across him, resting it on the ground before leaning down and kissing you again. One hand trails down your waist, over your hip and rests on your thigh. He starts massaging it in circles with his thumb and you groan, your thigh falling open for him, spreading, exposing your heat that’s now throbbing needily. He parts the other thigh gently, giving himself access to kneel between your legs.

Your eyes widen as they land on the outline of the enormous hard length pressing up against his loincloth, and Jake realizes as he follows your gaze to it.

“See that? You’re doin’ that to me,” he chuckles. “Makin’ me so hard. But it can wait, you ain’t ready for that baby.”

You bite your lip. You’re intimidated by it, yet something animalistic inside you wants to reach for it, to play with it.

Your thoughts are soon sidelined, inhaling sharply as he glides a light hand over the front of your loin cloth. He brushes loose, long strokes, up to your abdomen, then back down again over your mound, back up, repeatedly, prepping you, until he hones in on your needy spot. He starts making smaller circles over the damp loincloth material with the flat of his fingers and your hips buck up in a wild spasm.

“Easy girl,” he smirks. “Needy, aren’tcha?”

“Mmh,” Your back arches off the ground as the pressure of his fingers over the material start an alien sensation inside you, fuzzy, delicious, making you ravenous for more.

He parts your loincloth to one side, exposing your heat to the air and his eyes devour what’s in front of them, pupils dilating.  

“Gonna take it nice ‘n slow fr’you baby, just let me know if you need me to stop, ok? Fuck, you’re wet…” he trails off, dipping his head to inspect your shining slick in primal fascination. He wants more than anything to bury his cock in to the hilt, imagines how tight you would be. But not right now. You need easing into it.

He rests his hand next your pussy and carefully, cautiously, starts brushing his thumb over your bare clit, tracing the pad in slow circles around it.

A whimper escapes you from the sensitivity, this new sensation of someone else’s touch on your bundle of nerves. It’s almost painful and your thighs try to close on instinct, but Jake holds them apart, his thumb continuing the lazy circles, and then it hits you like a punch to the gut. A rush of warm pleasure that has you going limp like a rag doll. Fuck, that’s not so bad.

“See baby? Feels good,” Jake grins, chest puffing up at the reaction he was waiting for.

He runs his fingers up your slit, teasing your entrance, spreading your slick as he easily slips one in, slowly, steadily pushing his finger inside you. Your breath hitches, mouth falling open, your body taking it with an ease that surprises you.

“Good girl,” his hum vibrates under your ribs as his finger begins thrusting in a slow rhythm, his eyes studying your every reaction. “Think you can take another for me doll?”

He tests another finger, stretching you apart as he slots it in, an ache that feels so good.

“Mmmh, fuck, Jake, uhh!” you slur out messy moans and Jake watches in enjoyment, his cock pulsing in his loincloth at the sight of you unravelling for him.

“You like that, babygirl, hm?” he starts to pick up the pace, fingers thrusting in quicker, thumb bumping into your clit with sporadic consistency.

“Jake!” you writhe and fidget uncontrollably at this thick, honey like sensation building up inside you.

“Try’n keep still,” he chuckles, spreading his other palm over your stomach, pinning you down, almost engulfing the width of your waist entirely. “I know it’s good, but need you t’keep steady for me right now, can you do that, baby?”

“Mmph,” you nod in a daze.

“Attagirl,” he continues sliding his curled fingers in and out, feeling you clench around them. “Keep it together fr’me just a while longer. Got somethin’ else to try that I think you’ll like.”

You watch in hazy curiosity as he shuffles lower on his knees, his face now between your thighs next to his fingers.

“This might make your head spin, so just push me away if it’s too much, darlin’, ok?” his grin is sinful as he peers up at you and your stomach flutters in anticipation.

“M’kay,” You nod quickly, mouth agape.

You watch as his gaze falls back to your cunt, his fingers still curling in and out of you, holding that knot of pressure deep in your gut. His tongue darts over his lips as he leans down and presses a light kiss on your mound, just above your clit. You hold your breath as he works his way down the sides, around the centre, gearing you up, making you ache for it.

“Oh Jake, please,” you gasp and at your plea, he kisses it, kisses your clit, alternating between soft licks and sucks while his fingers pump, filling your vision with stars. “Oh, fuck, Eywa!”

He groans, deep and long, and the vibration against you has you shuddering in pleasure, your tail curling around your thigh, toes scrunching, fists pulling at his hair. And his eyes are on you, on your crimson flushed cheeks, your flattened ears, your perky aroused nipples, and it drives him fucking crazy as he relishes at the sight.

“Mmm, that feel good, baby?” he purrs over your pussy, though it’s a rhetorical question as he knows how good he’s making you feel. He knows exactly what he’s doing, where to touch and how. You sigh out a raspy mewl, giving him his answer and his tail flicks in satisfaction.

His tongue widens, flat against your sensitive nub as it glides up and down, his fingers curling harder against the spot inside that has you clenching and unclenching. He delves in, tongue dipping between your folds, nose bumping your clit. And then the feeling shifts. The warm thrum of pressure starts to peak, intensify, the muscles of your cunt starting to throb.

“Oh shit, stop!” your eyes fly open and you tug at Jake’s hair, pulling his mouth off of you.

“You ok, baby?” he breathes, his face pussy drunk, mouth sopping with your juices.

“S’too much, like I’m going to explode,” you whine.

“Yeah, that’s the good bit,” he chuckles, finding your innocence so precious, caressing your cheek. “It’s meant to feel like that, darl. Want me to talk you through it? I’m right here.”

“Mhm,” you nod.

He adjusts himself, looking up at you with his blazing siren-like eyes, his breath warm against your puffy folds.

“You’re safe, baby, I gotcha,” he coos, pecking at your clit with delicate pressure as his fingers start to move inside you again. “Keep your eyes on me now, hey.”

Helplessly, your eyes roll back, a drop of drool trickling down your chin. “F-feels so good.”

“Eyes on me,” he repeats firmly between mouthfuls, and your eyes stir back to his, watching him eat you out hungrily and the sight alone makes you feel like you’re gonna lose it.

“Focus on the pleasure, breathe deep, let it take over you."

“Mhhm,” you groan louder.

“Feel my mouth around you?” he sucks with more pressure, making you writhe. “Don’t hold back, princess. Gonna feel so good, I promise.”

“Ohhh!”

“Thassit, girl,” he coaxes with ears angled back flat, voice vibrating on your pussy. “Cum fr’me baby, you can do it.”

Your thighs clench as the feeling returns in a storm, taking you higher, the deep throbbing in your gut threatening to snap. You pant, on the brink of losing control. “Oh fuck, Jake!!”

His fingers thrust vigorously, arm muscles flexing, a sheen building over his azure skin at the work he was putting in, mouth clamped down on your clit, drowning between your thighs, sending you over the point of no return.

Your body goes rigid and you become possessed, back arched, head thrown back as fireworks shoot through you, exploding into waves of the most delectable feeling you’ve ever experienced. You scream, eyes clenched shut, tail thrashing against the ground, hands flailing around his shoulders as he continues until you’re a numb, shaking, lifeless mess.

Jake’s muttering stirs you, grounding you back to reality, and your head rolls forward to find him laughing, heartily, proudly. “Attagirl! Damn, that looked intense.”

You breath out a shaky giggle, eyes alight. “That was…incredible.”

He runs his calloused hand up and down your thigh, and you see the unfulfilled desire in his eyes, the persistent bulge in his loincloth, the wet spot against it, the hunger looming in his pupils.

“I want it again,” you announce, biting your lip, pulling at his biceps, making him fall over you, caging you between his thick arms. “I want more, Jake.”

“Yeah?” his gold eyes flicker, lighting up.

“Want your cock,” you mewl barely above a whisper. “Want you to be my first time.”

“You.. you sure, princess?”

“Yes! Please!”

He chuckles, loving your newfound confidence after your orgasm. “Ok, baby,” he leans down to kiss you, and you reach down, grabbing the outline of his erection through his loincloth, making his breath hitch. You run your hand along the length and feel it twitch; it feels so alien, so hard and thick. You want it now, want to see it. You fumble with shaky fingers around the ties of his loincloth until eventually it comes undone and his cock springs free.

Oh, Eywa. It’s astounding, fascinating, weird, but so beautiful. So big, and you swallow hard at the sight. You’re staring, unable to tear your eyes away.

“Hey, baby,” Jake chuckles, tilting your chin up. “Like what you see?”

“Mhm,” you nod, dipping down to take his thumb into your mouth. “I want it.”

Jake gulps, his desire for you making him slip, and he buries his head into your neck, licking, canines dragging along your skin, dreads falling over you as you run your arms across his broad back, holding him tightly. He lines his cock up to your entrance and you jump at the sensation as he grabs it and wipes it up and down, sliding it between your lips, your juices mixing with his pre cum. It feels like it could slip in easily, but he holds it, waiting. “Ready?”

You nod.

He guides it in, the head parting your entrance, stretching you open as his cock slowly sinks in. You both groan in unison; his from the relief of your tightness around him, yours from the ache of something so large entering you for the first time. You thought it would hurt more, but it doesn’t, it’s only itching an ache you crave. Your first orgasm has you loosened you up, your walls coated in slick, ready for him. 

“That okay?” he breathes heavily, and once you nod deliriously he pushes in further, all the way to the hilt, making you cry out as his chest rumbles. “Fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good. So tight on my cock.”

You dig your nails into his back, clawing down, making him growl and start to pick up his pace, his balls slapping rhythmically against your ass, your tits bouncing.

“So big, Jake! AhHhH!”

“You can take it, doin’ so good baby.”

“Mmphh, Daddy!” the word escapes without your permission and Jake’s pace briefly falters in surprise, not expecting to hear you call him that, his mind turning it over, processing it. He starts grinding again, finding his pace, this time more intense, harder.

“What did y’call me?” he murmurs next to your ear.

 “Daddy,” you whisper, licking the side of his face.

A gruff sound comes from his chest as his cock pulses strongly inside you, immediately threatening to spill.

“M’close, babygirl, gonna pull out.”

You grip him harder, tightening your legs around his waist. “No, stay in me,” you beg.

“Baby no, can’t go gettin’ you pregnant on your first time,” he rasps.

The words whirl in your head, and you bite your lip at the thought of carrying Jake’s baby.

“But s’good, Daddy” you feel the warm knot of pressure building inside you like it did before, but this time it’s deeper from where his cock fills you, pushing against your cervix to the limit, filling an emptiness you didn’t even know you had until now.

 “Please,” you’re clinging to him like a monkey as he rocks you. “Cum inside me Jake! Put your babies in me!”

“Oh, fuck-”

He’s not strong enough to deny you. It’s too late, he’s too deep in the throes, deep inside you, and his body won’t let him pull out. He pounds into you animalistically, teeth bared, eyes scrunched shut and with one last firm thrust his cock erupts like a volcano, a throaty groan leaving him as he rides it out and pumps rope after rope of hot cum into you, filling you up. His pulsating cock sends you over the edge too, your orgasm crashing through you as you writhe beneath him, claws sunk deep in his muscles, hips rolling against him, milking his cock dry, making him shudder at the overstimulation on his fucked-out dick.

“Goddam, girl,” he pants, trying to catch his breath, shakily pulling out. “Took me so well. Sit up, now, baby.”

He clambers to his knees, sliding a hand behind you to prop you up upright. You feel a warm gush flood out of you and look down as you watch Jake’s white seed spilling out into a big puddle on the leaves.

“Just.. to be safe,” he chuckles, “like I said, wasn’t my plan to be puttin’ a baby in you, but your pussy had me in a chokehold.” He reaches down and you gasp as he inserts his fingers into your over-sensitive hole, fingers curling deep, pulling out the last of his cum.

You get giggly, legs like jelly as you fall back down, feeling fuzzy euphoria from your satisfaction as you stare up at the dappled light filtering through the forest.

“Don’t get too comfy now, kid,” Jake says as he stands and ties on his loincloth, adjusting his cock. He picks up your bow and reaches a hand out for you.

“Can’t you just lie with me for a while?” you ask, suddenly sleepy.

“I want to, princess, trust me. But I’ve got somewhere to be, m’afraid. C’mon, now, up.”

You sigh as you take his hand and find your feet, a little unsteady.

He supports you, bringing you to him. His eyes are full of soft warmth as he adjusts your clothing, making you decent, and you reach up and pull him to kiss you. He kisses back tenderly, cupping the back of your head. "Y'did so good, baby."

“It was amazing, Jake,” you murmur close to his face, trailing a finger down his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Hey, maybe now you can train a little less.. distracted,” he smirks, holding your bow out for you.

“I doubt that” you giggle as you both make your way back through the forest, knowing you’ll be thinking about this non-stop, wondering when you’ll get to do it next, how this afternoon is going to be etched into your mind always.

[kahkae]

I’M SO LUCKY CAUSE I DECIDED TO ACTUALLY BE INTERESTED ON BOTH AVATAR, ALIENS AND BENDERS!!! just typed #Avatar and hit the load😭👏

[evvrloree]

one shot 1k special

NETEYAM x fem!omatikaya!reader

summary: yourself and neteyam were supposed to be mutually over. after some time apart however, he decides he's the only one for you.

tags: 18+ , NSFW , MDNI , smut , toxicity(?)

a/n: UGH FINALLY I FINISHED IT (i'm sorry if this wasn't the best!!)

theme: animals

You sat cross-legged on a woven mat, your own half-finished armband lying forgotten in your lap while Meuia's question poked your sides irritatingly.

"So, he's still hung up on you?" she prodded. She sat next to you in the weavers circle, fiddling with her own article of clothing she had begun making a couple of minutes ago.

Her voice was light, teasing, but her eyes flicked toward you with genuine curiosity. "I saw the way he watched you during the last hunt gathering. Like he wanted to drag you off into the bushes right there."

You let out a slow breath, fingers tightening around the fibrous strands. The memory of Neteyam's lingering stare burned deep in your mind. He hadn’t approached. Not then.

"It's been three weeks," you muttered, voice quiet enough that the other women nearby wouldn't overhear. "Three weeks of silence, and he still acts like I'm his mate. Like I didn't tell him I needed space."

Meuia hummed sympathetically. "He's Neteyam. Future Olo'eyktan. He's used to getting what he wants. And what he wants has always been you." She leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice. "Be careful, yawntu. I heard he chased off Ukyo last night when he tried to walk you home from the river."

Your stomach twisted. Your eyes flicked hesitantly from your needling to her face. "I'm not his anymore," you said firmly. Though, your body would say otherwise. "He can stare and threaten all he wants. I'm done with the arguments, the jealousy, the way he makes me feel like I can’t breathe without his permission."

You sighed heavily through your nostrils, intently weaving and threading more aggressively. Just then, you saw at the corner of your eye, Neteyam himself casually speaking with another warrior at the entrance of the weaving kelku.

You watched him carefully, just behind Meuia. She whispered just underneath her breath. "Be careful, yawntu."

There, at the wide entrance of the kelku, stood Neteyam. Tall, broad-shouldered. He was talking to one of the older hunters, voice low and calm, a polite smile on his face like he belonged there. Like he wasn't invading your space on purpose.

But you knew better. The moment he caught your stare, you looked away, back down to your weaving. He didn't tear his gaze away yet, as Meuia informed you. He watched a moment longer, before walking away with a flicker of fury in his eyes.

The tension in your shoulders eased slightly.

Meuia bumped your knee gently. "He's gone. For now. But how he was looking at you... Eywa, he's not easy to get rid of."

You nodded, swallowing hard. "I know."

The rest of the weaving session dragged. When the circle finally began to disperse, you lingered a few extra minutes, helping tidy the baskets of yarn. Meuia hugged you goodbye with a whispered reminder to stay safe, then slipped off toward her own kelku.

The path home wound through thick foliage, narrow in places, the bioluminescent flora casting soft teal and violet light across the ground. You walked with a quiet purpose, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. You felt off, like something was hanging in the air.

You made it halfway before you heard it. A loud crunch of someone landing just right behind you. Your ears pinned back in fear, and whipped around so fast you though you might've broke your neck.

Neteyam.

You let out a shaky breath, clutching your chest. "Eywa, Neteyam. You scared me. What are you doing here?"

He stood there in the soft glow of the path, towering over you, chest rising and falling with steady, controlled breaths like he hadn't just dropped from a branch above. His dark braids hung loose, a few feathers still tucked in from the day's patrol.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated, voice low. He took one slow step closer, closing the distance until you could feel the heat rolling off his skin. "Making sure you get home safe, yawne. The forest isn't kind to pretty things walking alone at night."

Your brows furrowed a fraction, before you straightened. "I don't need you playing protector anymore."

Neteyam's head tilted slightly as he stepped an inch closer. "It wasn't an option."

You tried to backup but your feet wouldn't move. You were rooted by a force stronger than your head.

"Especially not after Ukyo thinks it's okay for him to try to get inside you." His voice turned dark, the way it did when he was moments away from breaking something.

"Neteyam, seriously? Not every man is like that." You said, crossing your arms.

"Yawne, I'm a man. I know what they're thinking." He spoke, fangs peeking out from under his lips.

You could feel the tension rolling off him. Jealousy so thick it was almost tangible, mixed with that obsessive hunger.

He let his gaze drag slowly down your body, unashamed, lingering on the way your crossed arms pushed your breasts together, on the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

"And I know exactly what I'd be thinking if I were him. How soft your skin feels, how pretty you sound when you're trying not to moan too loud." His fangs flashed again as his lips curled. "And I know he's thinking the same. That's why he doesn't get to walk you home. That's why no one does but me."

"You're being ridiculous," you managed, though your voice had gone quiet. "Ukyo is harmless. He's not… he's not you."

"Exactly." Neteyam's hand finally moved, sliding up from your hip to rest just beneath your crossed arms, his thumb pressing lightly against the underside of your breast. "He's not me. He doesn't know you."

He leaned in until his lips hovered right beside your ear. "I do. And I'm not letting anyone else learn."

You swallowed hard, lips parting slightly. Heat flooded up from your neck to the tips of your ears. You came to your senses before your body could do the thinking for you, so you shoved him back the best you could, palms to his chest.

With that movement, he caught your wrists with ease. "You can keep fighting me, yawne," he growled. "Keep telling me we're done. Keep trying to let other males close. But I'll keep showing up. You can pretend it's meant to be, but you can't stay away from me."

He simply stepped in until your bodies were flush, your palms now trapped against the hard, warm planes of his chest.

"I hate this," you whispered, even as your traitorous body leaned into him. "I hate how you make me feel trapped… and how much I still crave it."

A low, rumbling sound vibrated from his chest. "Then stop running from it."

He released one of your wrists only to slide that hand down your side, delicately tracing your soft skin. Neteyam's head dipped, lips ghosting along your jaw. "I can smell how much your pretty cunt wants me. Dripping for the same man you keep pushing away." His voice dropped even lower. "Tell me to leave and I'll walk away… but we both know you won't mean it."

He finally released your other wrist, both hands settling on your hips now, thumbs hooking under the waistband of your loincloth. He used the leverage to tug you closer, letting the thick, hard length of his cock press against your lower belly through the thin fabric of his tewng.

You felt him poking at your pubic bone, how warm both of you felt down there. You felt a tiny shiver go up your spine at the contact. This was wrong, you shouldn't feel this way for him anymore. He was bad. Bad for you in every way possible. But Eywa, the way your body reacted betrayed every logical thought screaming in your head.

"I know what you're thinking," he murmured against your jaw, lips barely grazing your skin. "That I'm toxic. That I'm possessive." He exhaled slowly, the warm breath sending another shiver down your spine. "And you're right. I am. But I also know exactly how to take care of you. How to make this pretty body sing for me."

His fingers started to delicately remove the straps of your loincloth, his touch sending little lightning sparks through you. The knots came undone with agonizing slowness, each tug of the woven ties deliberate, as if he were unwrapping something sacred.

Your slick had already coated your folds, making them glossy and swollen. Neteyam's amber eyes never left your face as he worked.

"You're shaking," he observed quietly. One hand slid around to cup the bare cheek of your ass, squeezing gently, while the other finally let your loincloth drop completely to the mossy ground at your feet. "So wet already, yawne. Look at you… dripping down your thighs."

He didn't rush to touch you there. Instead, he let his fingers trace the sensitive crease where your thigh met your core, feather-light, teasing the outer lips without parting them.

"I could take you right here," he whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. "Bend you over this root and fuck you slow until the whole forest hears how pretty you sound when you come on my cock. But I won't. Not yet." His fangs grazed your earlobe. "I want you desperate first. I want you begging. Because when I finally bury myself inside you, I'm going to make it last."

His free hand moved to your woven top, fingers loosening the ties at your shoulders. The fabric slid down your arms, baring your breasts to the cool night air. Your nipples were already tight, aching peaks, and Neteyam let out a low groan at the sight. He cupped one breast in his large palm, thumb circling the sensitive bud without pinching, rolling it slowly until you arched into his touch.

"So perfect," he murmured. "These pretty tits… this soft little cunt… all mine. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to make you feel like this."

He dipped his head lower, lips finally closing around one nipple. The heat of his mouth was shocking after the cool air, his tongue swirling slow, deliberate circles while his hand kneaded the other breast with just enough pressure to make you whimper. He sucked gently at first, then firmer.

Your hands, now free, came up to clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the hard muscle as your hips rocked helplessly against nothing. He was being so gentle, so focused on pulling every ounce of pleasure from your body.

Neteyam pulled off your nipple, lips shiny, eyes dark as he looked up at you. "Tell me how it feels," he commanded. "Tell me you don't want anyone else touching you like this. Tell me this skxawng is the only one who can make you this wet."

He slid two thick fingers between your folds then, not pushing inside yet, just spreading your slick, coating them thoroughly while his thumb took over teasing your clit in slow circles.

You moaned softly, thighs pressing together while you leaned into him, his view now only your backside. "N-Neteyam..." The sound of his name on your lips made something dark and satisfied flash across his face.

"That's it, yawne," he whispered. "Let me hear how much you still need me."

You were trembling harder now, legs barely holding you up as you leaned your weight against his chest. Neteyam's free arm wrapped around your lower back, supporting you.

He finally, finally, let one finger press against your entrance, circling it slowly, before pushing in just to the first knuckle. Your hips jerked forward trying to take him deeper, but Neteyam's arm around your back tightened.

"Easy, baby," he growled softly. "I'm going to give you everything you want tonight. But you're going to take it how I give it. Slow."

He pushed the finger in another inch, curling it gently against your inner walls, searching for that spongy spot. When he found it, he curled his finger on it repeatedly, thumb never leaving your clit.

The dual stimulation had you gasping, head falling back as another broken moan slipped out. "Neteyam… please…"

He groaned at the plea, the sound raw and hungry. His cock twitched hard against your belly, leaking steadily now. He didn't grind against you. All his focus stayed on you.

"Such a good girl," he praised, voice low and warm against your ear. He added the second finger slowly, stretching you open while his thumb kept perfect pressure on your clit.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, hips rocking helplessly into his hand as you clutched at his shoulders. Neteyam watched every second of it, eyes dark with devotion, drinking in the sight of you falling apart under his touch.

He kept you right on the edge for what felt like forever. When your walls started fluttering around his fingers and your moans turned into broken whimpers, Neteyam finally pulled his hand away.

You whined at the loss, but he only shushed you softly, turning you in his arms until your back was to his chest.

"Shh, yawne. I've got you," he whispered, lips brushing the back of your neck. "I'm going to take you now. Just like you need. I want to feel every inch of you while I fuck you into the ground."

He guided you down onto the soft moss and glowing ferns, laying you on your stomach in the prone position. His large body covered yours immediately, one knee gently nudging your thighs apart so he could settle between them. The weight of him was perfect, warm and protective as he pressed his chest to your back.

You felt the thick, hot head of his cock nudge against your soaked entrance, sliding through your folds before he finally pushed in.

Neteyam groaned deeply, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he bottomed out. "Fuck… so tight, so perfect for me," he praised. "Taking me so well, baby. Look at you… letting me fill you up again like you were never gone."

He stayed buried deep for a long moment, letting you adjust to his size, one hand sliding under your body to cup your breast while the other braced beside your head. Something about the way his bicep flexed just beside your head made your head spin.

Then he started moving. Slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his cock along every sensitive spot inside you. He kept his pace steady and deep, grinding against you on every downstroke so his pelvis rubbed perfectly against your ass and his cock kissed that sweet spot inside you.

You moaned, arching your back further up into him, pushing your ass back to meet every thrust. "Ngh- Fuck, Neteyam-" You groaned into his forearm, the sound muffled.

"That's my girl," Neteyam groaned low in your ear as he rolled his hips again. "Listen to you… moaning my name while I'm buried so deep inside this pretty cunt. You feel that? Feel how perfectly you take me?"

His thrusts stayed slow but heavy, each one grinding down so the tip of his cock pressed lovingly on that sweet spot inside you.

"Such a good girl for me," he praised, lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear with every word. "Arching so pretty for me, pushing back on my cock like you can't get enough. You're soaking me, yawne… dripping down my balls because you need this so bad. Need me."

He kept the rhythm controlled, never rushing, letting the pleasure build slowly, until your moans turned into desperate, broken whimpers.

"You're doing so well," he murmured hotly. "Taking every inch like you were made for me. This tight little pussy is mine… only mine. No one else gets to feel how you clench around them. No one else gets to hear these pretty sounds."

Your legs started to shake, that warm spot deep in your stomach began to burn brighter. And of course he sensed it.

"Come on, baby," he growled softly against your neck, fingers searching to tease your clit. "Let go for me. I want to feel you come all over my cock. Be my good girl and squeeze me tight while I fuck you through it."

You arched the best you could, unsure if you were trying to escape the overwhelming sensation or chase it deeper. "Neteyam- Oh fuck!"

The pleasure crested hard. Your walls clamped down around his thick cock as the orgasm crashed through you. A loud cry tore from your throat, muffled into his forearm as your entire body shuddered beneath him. Your slick gushed around his length, soaking his balls and the moss beneath you while your cunt pulsed and fluttered.

Neteyam groaned deeply, the sound satisfied, but he didn't stop. He kept fucking you through it, ensuring he dragged out every ounce of your orgasm he could.

"That's it… good girl, good fucking girl," he praised, voice rough and passionate. "Come so pretty for me. Look at you, shaking and squeezing my cock like you never want me to leave. So fucking perfect."

You cried out, he wouldn't stop, not for a second. You sank your teeth into his forearm, trying to muffle your sounds.

"You feel so good," he whispered, voice thick with devotion. "So tight and wet and mine. I could stay buried in you forever, yawne."

He rocked his hips back and forth, sliding in and out of you with ease now that your slick had coated both himself and you. He started to chase his own high now, mercilessly, with little regard to your being.

"Neteyam… s'too much,” you whimpered into his forearm, teeth still faintly indented in his skin from where you'd bitten down.

He hummed low against the back of your neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin there. "Shh. I know what you can take. You're doing so good for me… taking every inch like you were made for this cock."

He shifted his weight slightly, spreading your thighs wider with his knees. His hand under you moved, fingers finding your swollen clit again. He rubbed faster this time, forcing you to reach your peak faster than intended.

"Listen to those pretty sounds," he murmured, fangs grazing your shoulder. "You're dripping all over me again. Such a messy little thing when you're desperate."

Your hips twitched helplessly beneath him, trying to push back for more even as your mind spun with how wrong this was. But Eywa, the way he filled you… the way he knew exactly how to undo you… it was impossible to hate.

Neteyam's breath hitched when your walls clenched around him particularly hard. "Fuck… there it is. You're getting close again, aren't you? This tight cunt is fluttering so sweetly for me." He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck. "Tell me, baby. Tell me who this pussy belongs to. Say it while you come on my cock."

You shook your head weakly, even as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The quick grinding pace was driving you insane. Every thrust driven like he was savoring the way you fell apart beneath him.

He chuckled darkly into your back. "Stubborn as always. That's okay… I'll fuck the truth out of you." He braced himself with both hands braced on either sides of you, driving in and out of you harder. He was now pounding into you, sending you sliding forward with each contact with his pelvis.

"Neteyam-ah!" The sound tore from your throat, as he bottomed out again and again, the thick head of his cock kissing that sensitive spot deep inside.

He growled low behind you. "That's right, yawne. Say my name. Let me hear how much you need this." His voice was rougher now. "You're taking me so well… look at you. Such a good girl, letting me fuck you exactly how you need it."

Your thighs shook violently, knees digging into the moss as you tried to push back against him, chasing more even while your mind screamed that this was dangerous, that you were letting him pull you back in.

But your body betrayed you completely. Slick coated his cock, your inner walls fluttering and clenching around his length with every deep stroke. You were trapped beneath his larger frame, unable to do anything but feel every inch of him claiming you.

The coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, heat flooding every limb until you felt like you might shatter. Your moans turned into desperate, broken whimpers. Neteyam’s pace quickened just a fraction chasing right after you

"Fuck- Come for me-" He whined, his resolve cracking underneath the pressure. "Please- fuck, come with me."

"Neteyam-ah! Fuck!" The cry ripped from your throat while he pounded mercilessly into you.

He groaned, needy. "I know, baby… I know. But you can take it." His hand rubbed fast on your clit. "Come for me. Right now. Please-fuck, come with me. I need to feel you milk my cock when I fill you up."

The plea in his voice, so unlike the controlled person he usually was, shattered the last of your resistance.

Your second orgasm was not far behind, and crashed over you like a huge wave. Pleasure ripped through every inch of your body.

Fresh slick gushed around his length, soaking him completely as your cunt spasmed wildly, milking him with desperate contractions. Your entire frame shook beneath him, legs kicking weakly, toes curling into the moss.

Neteyam;s rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as your release triggered his own. "Fuck-yes-good girl-fuuuuck!" he snarled, burying himself to the hilt with one thrust. His cock throbbed hard inside you as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your fluttering walls.

He ground against you through it all, hips rolling in short circles to push every drop as deep as possible, marking you from the inside like the obsessed male he was.

Low, broken groans spilled from his lips against your neck, his braids falling around your face as he shuddered above you. For several long heartbeats, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the soft, distant chirps of the forest.

He didn't pull out right away. Instead, he stayed buried deep, softening slowly inside you while he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and the nape of your neck.

"So perfect," he whispered hoarsely, and something dangerously soft. "My beautiful yawne… you came so hard for me. Look at you, full of my cum. No one else will ever make you feel like this. No one else gets to have you."

Neteyam nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply like he could never get enough.

"Stay with me tonight,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing your pulse point. "Don't go back to your kelku. Let me hold you… let me take care of you the way only I can. You know no one else will ever love you like this."

You closed your eyes, too exhausted and pleasure-drunk to argue. Tomorrow the fighting would probably start again. The way he made you feel both cherished and trapped. But tonight, his arms locked around you like he'd never let go, you let yourself sink into the dangerous comfort of him.

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[kahkae]

this is so good🫡