listen—LISTEN sokka and aang have definitely compared dick sizes when sharing baths before and sokka's just shocked for the rest of evening while aang happily speaks with you, a bit shyly too.
"she's gonna be one lucky woman," sokka suddenly says, slightly dazed and earning confused looks from katara and zuko and an amused snort from toph.
Please help! I have a really cute fic idea for Sokka but it requires me to delve a bit into Inuit culture and the language Inuktitut, as it’s one of the major inspirations for atla’s Southern water tribe.
I don’t know any of Inuktitut so I will be using Microsoft translator and cross checking with other sources. Please don’t come at me if you know how to speak it/write it😓 If you’re more informed and see something a little funky, please let me know so I can fix it and not make a fool out of myself!
Okay with that being said, my only issue is not knowing how I should write the dialogue for Inuktitut.
ʚଓ: 18+, Sokka x reader x Aang, p in v, p sucking, fem reader, 2nd person, lots of repeated words.
Characters- 15k
“Cmon sweet heart, what ,cant reach me?”
Sokka taunts, moving around, sliding off his feet towards your right, snickering, faster than you.
The day began by you settling in Toph's home, taking a break with your friends from all the missions you all had to endure for the past two weeks.
And now… because of Sokka's never ending cries to help you get better at fighting, the two of you find yourselves in Toph's backyard.
Zuko, Katara and Toph's decided to pass time by going to the market,wanting a fresh dinner with fresh leaves of tea,while Aang, being the good friend that he is, stayed along besides the two of you, in the kitchen, preparing some cold water.
“Cant you just stay still for a second? You're not even teaching me anything!” You tell and groan at the non bender, your eyes focusing on his muscles as he was getting too fired up from the sun and decided to take off his shirt. Was it intentional? Who knows..
“But sweets, you need to learn to catch properly! That's what I'm doing.”
He exclaims, stopping his movement for a brief second, letting himself tower over you, the hot sun pulsating his skin, sweat dribbling down his forehead and chest.
You swallow once his hands move to wipe it, the soft skin of his pectorals moving just the slightest.
The man chuckles, fingers catching your chin and turning your gaze to his eyes.
“Eyes up here, come on, let's try again..”
He says softly, his body softening up for a few seconds, pushing his hand away from the soft spot he brushed earlier and crossing his arms, tilting his head to think of a way to help you understand better.
“Hm, how about I demonstrate?”
“What–” you gasp, his foot grazing yours, unbalancing your weight, before grasping your waist, pushing you on the ground. You brace for impact, for your head to hurt , yet that pain never came.
“You can open yours eyes you know, we re just practicing, I wouldn't hurt you.”
He chuckles, his other hand under you skull to prevent any harm.
“And then, now I'm just showing, but, after you throw them on the ground, you grab their hands..”
He uncurls away from your back,sliding his fingers on your wrists, in a soft ,weird, intentional way, while holding eye contact.
“And…Hey! Are you listening? Look at me not my crotch..”
Indeed, you were looking down, but was it your fault? He was pinning your down, his hips were on yours, his hands were trailing upwards to your hands to lock them.
“Huh?” You breathe out, before quickly looking away, embbarrassed he caught you.
Sokka sighs with a smile, letting go of your hands, instead going to your waist, gently holding onto it, still on top of you.
“There are many ways to punk down an enemy, this…was fast, I didn't do it correctly, but it can work if you do it correctly… I think.”
He mumbles the last part.
You blink, you're just staying there, your hearts beating so fast, why is he like this, you swallow, your throat dry, hands slowly settling on his arms.
He stops talking,gulping down whilst looking at you, no one says anything yet, the weight and the tension overpowering the integrity of the backyard.
His sweat trails down from his chin, hitting your stomach, he shivers, slightly straightening his back, his eyes darting to the leakage.
“Sorry..” He breathes out breathless, his fingers dart to the salted water touching the soft skin ,wiping it off while licking his lips inner corner, feeling the way your grip on his muscles tighten, gaze going to your face for a few seconds, acknowledging the way you bite your bottom lip the tiniest bit once he traces your stomach to clean you.
He swallows, his eyes widening marginally as soon as he feels himself twitch. The man in a lightning speed almost gets off of you, his ears turning pink, trying to calm himself.
“U-uh sorry, sorry, let's get back to training, yeah?” He tries to compose himself, but the way his voice cracks mentions he's not doing good at all.
Sokka lifts his hand, offering for you to take it, and you do, coughing away the awkwardness, lightly squeezing his hand to show and feel that it's fine.
“So.. What other methods are there?”
You ask and he raises an eyebrow before nodding as he finally gets what you're reffering to.
“Oooh! Oh well, again there a lots of ways but, since you're bit more experienced than other folks, I can maybe, just maybe teach you a few harder ones–”
“Hey guys!” Aang's voice echoes, a small wave at progresses, the avatar also shirtless with water in his hands.
“Here, though you guys were thirsty, oh and, I also want to train with you! Is that okay? I can also teach her some things-” he says to Sokka then looks at you.
“Would you like that?”
He questions, putting his soft but calloused hand on your shoulder, a soft smile present on his face.
You nod and Sokka smiles, taking a cup from the avatar's grip.
“Of course you can dude, the more the merrier.” He jokes around before drinking all the water available in the cup, a few drops of water falling down his chin to his chest then abs, trailing it's way down to his pants.
“uh hello.?” Aang asks, searching for your eyes.
“Huh? Oh yeah?” you say, looking back at Aang who quickly cleans the drool from your face with his thumb,rapidly so Sokka wouldn't notice and trade you, a short chuckle escaping him.
“silly.. “ he whispers, then gives you a cup.
“Drink up, you must be tired right?” He continues with a smile on his face.
“Yeah… thank you Aang” you say while taking the water.
The backyard is silent, flushes of green roam around, the birds sing and the sun is as bright as ever.
Your eyes never leave the airbenders muscles, the hotness of the sun ready getting to him, his abs and defines slightly being chest sparkling, his fingers toying down his pants down to his v line to help the wind flow,a few veins scattered there as well, one of his hands trailing upwards, on his abs to his neck to wipe away the sweat.
You almost choke on the water but push yourself to finish it, eagerly giving the cup to Sokka who puts it next to his right after.
Aang snickers silently, gazing up you from my point of you, slowly but surely making his way behind you, trailing on your waist and putting his head on your shoulder.
He was teasing, testing you, how cruel.
“What did you two practice?”
“Oh you know the basics, how to punch, to avoid–”
“Really? But she knows those things already, it's that right sweet girl?” Aang says and smiles, his tone soft and funny right at your ear.
Sokka puffs and rolls his eyes, taking a few steps, unknowingly trapping you between the two of them, chest in front, chest in back as well.
You swallow squeezing your eyes shut then opening them again to take in the sight and feel.
“Okay buddy, we know that, we know that, it's just…she needs to get better at em..” He pauses and leans morely.
“... Did you see how sometimes she trips on nothing when fighting?” He whispers while Aang laughs contemptuously.
You lick your lips, not caring how and what Sokka says about you, your hands trail upwards to his muscles, feeling the soft spots turn into flexed ones.
“Hey whatcha doing?” Sokka asks teasingly, pushing away your hands and truffling back.
“Oh well, shall we get to work then?” Aang exclaims happily, removing his body from yours.
“Mmh yeah sure..” You say in an attempt at doing a tempered voice.
After a few minutes of nonstop fighting, your legs give out,Sokka continues to move though, not giving a moment of rest, not because he won't give one, it's just that he doesn't see you struggling. With one stripe on your leg, you yelp, falling to the ground, the man's eyes widen of course.Before he could get a hold of you, Aang shifts without a thought in his mind, almost like a reflex from all these years of being the avatar and saving people.
You open your eyes,touching,touching…soft yet rough surface ,breathing,hotness,a quiet whimper…your eyes widen, feeling Aang's abs underneath you, his whole body is underneath. Your face flickers pink tones , swiftly moving your torso to sit on your butt, his hands immediately going to your hips to stabilize you while your face hits Sokka's crotch who's now right in front of you worried.
“Are you okay? I'm so so sorry! You really have to tell me next time if your getting worn out, breaks are essential…” he sighs then continues. “Really sorry, I didn't realize…” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck and looking away a bit ashamed, not acknowledging the position the three of you are in.
You shift , Aang's hands tighten, his voice struggling to stay inside his vocal cords,pants hanging lower than before.
“Dont move.” The avatar states, gripping you tightly, his tone unusually deep.
Sokka blinks, turning his head to face the both of you, a blush creeping on his face once he sees the position, he nudges you stop him, trying to grip onto something so you won't move.
“Hey so uh… whats happening?” You breathe out, face angled towards the man underneath you, feeling a twitch, Sokka's hand coming to your head, lightly caressing the locks away.
“Just.. Just don't move okay? I.. Uh..-” Aang sighs,tilting his head back, eyes shut.
“You pushed down my underwear a bit when you fell…so..” He continues, a shallow breath escaping him.
“at least it's not all out–” the non bender adds, blinking.
“Sokka you're not helping!” You whisper harshly , unintentionally moving,the slow friction making Aang groan, the sound of material rumbling, the heat of bodies flushed together, the sun isn't helping either as it's a hot day.
Sokka licks his lips, looking away flustered then back at the two of you.
“So what now..?” He asks, scratching his neck.
A silent echo screens the backyard, the wind picking up an inch.
You gulp down, the indescribable heatness getting to you, the feelings for the two not offering a moment of peace either, how you've dreamt of taking them, of them taking you, this moment is crucial, and plus… Aang did get hard because of you right? This is a chance, you have to take it.
The sway of your hips doesn't go unnoticed, the way your breath slows and hardens,your grip onto Sokka's hands coming in a clutch.
Aang let's out a hushed moan, opening his eyes and gripping you tighter, his back sitting upwards, chest finding yours again.
“...What…are you doing?” he asks, licking his lips corner, Sokka's eyes never leaving yours as you face the other direction.
“H-helping..” You yelp out, shivering at the avatar's hardened cock against you.
The two of them look at each other, a but surprised, Sokka raises an Eyebrow, his hand still in your hair while Aang nods at his expression, silently agreeing.
“You can fuck me, I wouldnt mind…if that means helping you.” You whisper arching your back, looking at Aang who's breath hitches, he swallows throat dry, feeling his dick harden even more.
“...Yeah?” He whispers and asks, gaze softening with a primal vision in them, almost pleading but possessive.
You nod slowly and he smirks.
The man's hands shift under your thighs, lifting you up just lightly, Sokka backs away just a bit, unsure of what to do, your grip not letting him leave either.
Aang pushes the wind to hold up, removing a hand from your skin and deliberately, rapidly, achingly ripping away your undergarments, flashing your pussy out in the sun’s warmth.
You gasp and he apologises almost immediately, kissing your cheek right after and letting his dick spring out of his clothes. Big and long, a bit thick but not too much, veiny, the tip a pink with lightly brownish shaded grounds.
“I'm sorry, I'll go slow from now on,okay?” He assures you, shifting his weight and hips, feeling your juices coat his length, silently looking at the scene, eyes filled with ecstasy, skin burning, sweat trailing down his abs and v line.
“I'll go slow,I promise..” He whines, lifting you upwards, giving Sokka a better view at you cunt, then slowly inserting himself , the moans you provide making him feel ticklish. Aang whimpers, kissing your neck, lost in your scent and walls.
Sokka breathes heavily, feeling himself getting worked up, he nudges again to give the two of you space but your hand tugs him closer, he whimpers, staring and the hand that's trailing up to his erection.
“Let me.. Help you too” you whisper between the moans, Aangs dick deep within you, his hips moving slowly for you to take his length in fully.
“I-i-i…it's really fine sweetheart..-” Sokka motions before letting out a whimper as you pull his pants off.
“No underwear? How dirty..” You tease him, leaning against Aang and whine, hand stroking the man in front on you.
“A-ah.. Fuck… says you..” the non bender moans, tilting his head back.
“Can I go faster, please..?” Aang pushes himself deeper inside, his grip on your thighs tightening as you give him permission, his moves fastening, the sound of wet slaps and moans flushed the nature, your eyes flowing to the back of your head, Sokka's touch lingering at your head, snapping you of it the pleasure Aangs giving you.
Sokka's tip lingers against your mouth, coloured brown with a few red hints, thick and smaller than Aangs, veiner.
“Please..” He gasps out and let's out a loud moan once you take him into your mouth, eyes going to the back of his head.
“Oh yes, just like that baby.. So fucking good for me..” He whines out, moving his hips into your mouth in a rather slow motion to not hurt you.
Aang pushed harder, hitting your cervix, moaning into your ear and whimpering how good you feel, tongue licking your body, taking a taste at the salty skin, one of his eyes closed, head hidden into your neck, he pounds into you, not wanting to stop.
“F-fuck-” he moans out,groaning, intoxicated by your moans and how you tighten around you.
“Youre gonna milk me dry firefly ah spirits..” He whines out, tears pricking his eyes.
Sokka's hips fasten their pace, eyes locked on how the spit dribbles down your chin, it was just like the water you drank out of that cup a few minutes ago, he bites his lips, legs trembling, not getting enough of your sweet mouth, gaze pleading.
You moan against Sokka's cock, feeling yourself ready to release, you whine and scratch Sokka's skin accidently, eyes glistening, hips trembling.
Aang notices, shifting his cock into another position, one thrust and his whole cock and balls are covered with your liquid, your squirting making him release into your cunt, getting the two mixed together.
Sokka whines, seeing the scene, cumming into your mouth once you take a hold off his testicles, squeezing them together and lick his tip.
Both of your wholes get filled, and you aren't complaining one bit, the pleasure they gave was everything you wanted, the way their hot liquid gets trapped inside of you makes you squeeze rougher Aangs cock.
The three of you stay in that position, letting the orgasms finish. Sokka whines, breathing heavily slowly removing himself from your mouth.
“Sorry I came in your mouth..” He whispers, crouching down to meet your face and give you a soft kiss, tasting himself.
“I should be the one apologising…I made a mess.” Aangs chuckles, hugging you from behind, your underwear and pants scattered, ripped besides the two of you, his seed leaking out, dick still inside. The avatar kisses your neck and massages your breasts and hips.
“Let's get you cleaned up before the other three arrive.” Aang states, looking up at Sokka who's taking your disheveled clothes.
“I'll turn on the water, you make sure she's fine.” Sokka mutters, leaving the two of you.
“Of course” Aangs whispers, lifting you up and letting his dick slide out.
Summary: Sokka is sick. Katara is not feeling her best. Aang set off in search for medicine. Long story short, you're left alone with a not so smart lemur, a huge bison, and one particularly delirious boy and his sister.
English isn't my first language!
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First time writing for both Sokka and ATLA #scared 😬 i've watched ATLA as a kid (probably some reruns on TV), and now I'm rewatching it, which means i don't remember anything beyond first season, so my Sokka and Katara might be totally out of character. Also, I wrote it in one sitting (that's why it's short), didn't really proofread it, so don't expect anything good from it haha. Still, i'd appreciate some feedback!
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"I'll be back soon." Aang promises and soon enough, before you can respond or hurry him up, he's gone. A wave of cold air hits your face as he takes off.
He'll be fine one part of your brain reassures.
But Sokka won't if he doesn't get any medicine soon the other part of your brain, the menacing one, convinces.
His pained groans are a perfect reminder of it.
Your eyes meet Katara's. They're a reflection of yours – terrified and unsure. Neither of you know what will come next. Sokka's babbling only gets worse – more delirious with every passing moment. On top of that, he's dehydrated and shivering from cold, despite the thick coat he has on.
And well, that's not even the worst thing. Katara's coughing, too, and you know that she'll be in the same state as her brother soon. Too soon. You'll be left alone with two very sick people. No water, no medicine.
Where are you, Aang?
"Let me." You say to Katara, taking a small cloth from her hand. She wants to protest, you can tell – after all, that's her brother we're talking about – but you give her a reassuring smile and she eventually backs down.
You take Katara's place in front of Sokka. The cold tiles hurt your knees, Momo climbs up your right arm, and cold wind bites into the uncovered skin of your face, but you pay it no mind, focusing on the sick boy in front of you.Your friend. At least that's what you think he's to you. Or rather, you try to convince yourself of it.
Sokka comes around when he sees you. A lopsided smile appears on his face. "What's your name, gorgeous?"
"You know my name, Sokka." You smile, even though it's a strained smile, as you wipe off sweat that has gathered on his pale forehead. Not long after, his face is damp again.
Sokka shakes his head. "No, i don't." He insists. His hand raises, then falls back down, before raising again and getting hold of yours. You gasp in surprise.
"What are you doing?" You ask. Katara coughs once more, but you don't know if she's actually getting worse or just trying to stop Sokka's delirious shenanigans.
"Your name, gorgeous. What is it?" He questions again. He brings your hand closer to his face, turns it from left to right, traces the lines on your palm with the highest interest.
It feels oddly intimate, but you don't let your long suppressed feelings for him take over. He's sick. He doesn't know what he's doing, what kind of effect he has on you with his silly words and innocent touches.
Sokka doesn't wait for your response, though – it seems he has already forgotten that he "doesn't" know your name. He lets go of your hand, leaving behind a weirdly unpleasant, cold feeling.
"I'm a earthbender. did you know that?" He smiles proudly a moment later.
"Sokka, you're not a earthbender." You reason with him.
Frankly, he looks quite offended at your words. "Of course i am. Let me show you."
He raises his hands and does some odd movements that look nothing like earthbending, all while looking at you with anticipation.
"Great, right?" Sokka prompts, looking all smug. "I'm the best earthbender on this planet."
You shake your head with resignation. "Sure you are."
Sokka puffs up with pride at your "confirmation" of his skills – you can also hear him whispering something to Appa, convinced the bison is talking back to him – but you're not looking at him anymore. Your attention is focused on Katara, who looks weaker and weaker with every moment. Beads of sweat roll down her forehead, her lips are dry and cracked.
Please, Aang. We don't have much time.
"Are you my girlfriend, gorgeous?"
Your attention is pulled back to Sokka. Your heart starts beating just a bit faster at his question – my God, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be reacting like this to his sick ramblings. Yet, it makes you feel all fuzzy inside.
And just slightly sad you're not actually together.
"No, Sokka. I am your friend. You are my friend."
Sokka's lips turn downwards in a pitiful smile. Oh, Sokka. Don't do this to me. You think to yourself.
"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" He asks hopefully. His blue eyes are huge, pupils dilated, as he stares at you.
"Sokka, Y/N doesn't want to be your girlfriend." Katara chimes in despite being on her last legs and for the first time in your life, you are grateful for her witty way of being.
"But why..." Sokka moans. "Appa says we'd make a great couple. Right, big boy?" He glances at the animal beside him, which looks like it wants nothing to do with him. "I've always known you are my best friend, Appa."
You shake your head. Katara looks at you pleadingly.
"Can you get us some water? I'm so thirsty..."
You catch the water sack she throws your way. You shake it – it's depressingly empty. Not a single drop of liquid left.
"Will you be fine, Katara? I don't want to leave you two all alone here." You ask anxiously.
Katara nods. "I'm not that sick, Y/N. Just hurry."
You have no choice. If you want to keep them awake for a bit longer, you need to do what she says.
You get up from the floor, determined to find some water and help Sokka and Katara. Momo crawls up your leg, then arm, and eventually settles on your shoulder. You pat his head – he might not be the smartest, but it's good to have a companion other than your sick, delirious friends.
"Hey!" Sokka suddenly exclaims. "Why are you leaving us, gorgeous?"
You sigh. "I'll be back soon, Sokka."
But just as you are about to leave for your hunt for water, a voice resonates through the room.
Aang.
"I've got it!"
You've been through a lot together, way more than regular fifteen year olds – and Aang, of course – but this moment is one of the happiest of your life. You swear it is.
"Oh, finally!" You're so excited you can't stop yourself from giving Aang a kiss on the cheek. It makes the boy blush. "Thank you, Aang."
Sokka yelps. "That's your boyfriend?!"
Both of you laugh – you from relief that has washed over you, and Aang from sheer confusion.
"Do you ever worry that I'm ugly?" You ask Toph one afternoon, the two of you nestled on the too-big lounge chair of your balcony. You've got your head on Toph's firm thighs, playing with the strength of her fingers as she dozes off in the day's gentle warmth.
"No," Toph yawns, mouth widening large enough to make her jaw crack. "Stop asking stupid questions."
You pout. "It's not stupid, though," you argue. "You've never and will never see me and for all you know, I could look like a troll." Your nose scrunches up. "A nasty troll covered in boils and warts."
Toph chuckles. "That's funny because I literally feel your naked body everyday and I've never felt a boil or wart." Her lips curve into a smirk. "In fact, all I've ever felt is your smooth skin and how hot and wet it gets between your—"
"OK!" You exclaim, shoving your hands over her laughing mouth. "Geez, you're a fucking a menace."
"Only because my silly wife won't stop talking out of her ass," Toph replies before bringing her hands up to your face. You instantly relax into her touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feel of roughened palms and calloused fingertips. "Listen, I know I'll never be able to see you but I can feel you. The slope of your nose and the curve of your cheeks." Her fingers graze the soft swell of your lips. "I can feel you and draw a picture in my head and you come out beautiful every single time."
Butterflies fly around in your stomach, tickling your insides and making your toes curl. Your heart beat fastens considerably and there's no way to hide any of this from Toph. It leaves you wonderfully exposed in such a deeper level that renders you breathless each and every time.
"What if your picture is wrong, though?" You can't help but ask and yelp when Toph squishes your cheeks between her thumb and index finger, comically puckering your lips. She's looking down in your direction, eyes a calming greyish green as they dance with amused fondness.
"I'm never wrong, princess."
And it'd be funny if anyone else had said it, unbelievably cocky even.
But with Toph, you know it's the truth—set in stone.
5 TIMES ZUKO BURNED THE PALACE + 1 TIME THE MAID FINALLY UNDERSTOOD WHY
art cr @ oouyox on X
18+ MDNI, smut, adult!zuko, fire lord!zuko, established relationship, newlywed era, dom!zuko, jealous!zuko, fire lady!reader, waterbender!reader, cockwarming, oral sex, edging, creampie, semi-public sex, dry hump, etc ...
DEAR DIARY, it’s my sixth day as a palace maid & apparently fire lord zuko burns things down whenever he’s alone with his wife. i asked the head maid about it, but she said i’m still too innocent to understand ...? is it because the fire lord is abusive ?! i just hope the kind fire lady is okay :<
O1 | HOPELESSLY DEVOTED TO YOU
The palace staff had quickly learned to read the architectural warning signs. At first, the occasional flicker of the wall sconces was easy to dismiss as a normal side effect of living inside the Fire Nation royal estate, where ceremonial flames burned at nearly every corner and the Caldera heat had a personality of its own. A candle trembling during a tense council meeting was not unusual. A brazier roaring too brightly after the Fire Lord received bad news was simply part of palace life. Firebenders were emotional people, after all, and the palace had housed generations of them.
But then the Fire Lord got married, and suddenly the entire palace became one prolonged fire hazard.
Whenever Zuko was struck by a particularly intense wave of desire for his wife, his inner fire reacted with embarrassing honesty. The decorative flames burning in the iron wall sconces would surge upward, roaring to life in blinding, unnatural pillars of gold. Lanterns trembled on their hooks, curtains smoked at the edges, and the very air in certain corridors grew so thick and hot that walking through them felt like stepping into the throat of a dragon. It became common knowledge among the staff that if a hallway suddenly felt like a furnace and the torches were licking the ceiling, you simply turned around and walked the other way.
No one said anything directly, of course. This was the Fire Lord and Fire Lady, newlyweds and apparently determined to test the structural endurance of every room, corridor, garden, balcony, kitchen, archive, and unfortunately, the royal study. The guards developed a silent rotation around the affected areas. The maids began carrying water basins with the same exhausted professionalism soldiers carried spears. The council, with great suffering and even greater self-preservation, pretended not to notice whenever their notoriously strict, punctual ruler arrived at official meetings with his collar pulled suspiciously high and his hair slightly more ruined than court protocol allowed.
You, naturally, found the entire situation hilarious. Zuko didn’t.
“You’re ruining my reputation,” he muttered one morning over breakfast, glaring into his tea as if the jasmine leaves had personally betrayed him. His hair was still half-loose from sleep, his robe lazily tied at the waist, and the faint reddish mark just beneath his jaw was doing an absolutely terrible job of staying hidden under his collar.
You lifted your teacup with both hands, blinking at him over the rim with exaggerated innocence. “My love, your reputation survived banishment, piracy, treason, and that one unfortunate ponytail era. I think it can survive people knowing you like your wife.”
His golden eyes narrowed. “I do not merely like my wife.”
“Oh?”
His gaze flicked to your mouth, then back to your eyes with the grim seriousness of a man discussing military strategy. “I am devoted to my wife.”
Your heart did something terribly inconvenient inside your chest. Then Zuko, apparently deciding that ruining you emotionally before breakfast was perfectly acceptable royal behavior, added in a lower voice, “Obsessed, even.”
The candle between you burst into a sudden, dramatic flame.
Both of you looked at it.
From the doorway, the head maid closed her eyes and took a very slow breath. “Not again,” she whispered.
O2 | SEVEN MINUTES OF HEAVEN
The first major casualty of your absolute lack of restraint was the royal study. It had started as a minor disagreement over a passing comment made by a visiting Earth Kingdom dignitary, which really should not have escalated as quickly as it did. The dignitary had been harmless enough, charming in that polished diplomatic way, with smooth compliments and practiced laughter that clearly meant nothing beyond courtly manners. You had barely paid him any mind. Zuko, unfortunately, had paid him too much mind.
By the time the heavy doors of the royal study closed behind you both, the Fire Lord’s fiercely protective instincts were already simmering dangerously beneath his skin. The room smelled of cedar, parchment, ink, and the sharp metallic bite of ozone, a scent you had come to associate with your husband trying very hard not to set something on fire. He stood near the shelves with a scroll clenched in one hand, his jaw tight enough to cut glass, while you leaned against the edge of his massive oak map table and crossed your arms.
“You are being ridiculous, Zuko,” you said. The table behind you was covered in carefully arranged naval documents, trade routes, council reports, and one very important scroll that had taken three ministers nearly a week to prepare. “He complimented my diplomacy. That is literally his job.”
Zuko’s eyes flashed. “He complimented more than your diplomacy.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it was honestly impressive you didn’t see the back of your own skull. “You know I only have eyes for you. Besides, you are one to talk. Honestly, with your history, I’m surprised you didn’t accidentally marry half the Earth Kingdom before I got here. Total womanizer.”
Zuko went completely still.
The scroll in his hand lowered slowly, and you realized a fraction too late that you had touched something far more tender than simple jealousy. Over the past decade, Zuko had mellowed into a composed ruler, a man capable of silencing entire council chambers with nothing but a look. But there were still old wounds beneath all that control, places where rejection and loneliness had carved themselves too deeply into him. Your teasing had landed somewhere dangerously close to one of them.
“A womanizer?” Zuko repeated quietly.
His voice was calm, and that was what made it worse. It had dropped into that dark, gravelly register meant only for you, the one that made the back of your neck prickle and your spine instinctively straighten. He placed the scroll down on the desk with careful precision, then moved around the table with slow, heavy steps until he was standing directly in front of you, crowding you back against the polished wood.
“My wife,” he said, his golden eyes burning with raw, defensive intensity, “I haven’t looked at, let alone wanted, another woman in years. I was abstinent before you invaded my palace, pointed a blade at my throat, and drove me completely insane.”
Your breath caught. The firelights in the study flickered at the edges of your vision, but you could barely focus on them with the way he was looking at you, as if the entire world had narrowed down to the space between your bodies.
“That was…” You swallowed, suddenly finding it very difficult to hold onto your smug little smile. “That was a very dramatic answer.”
Zuko only huffed, low and humorless, his mouth twitching like he could not decide whether he wanted to argue with you or ruin you against the nearest available surface.
“Anyway, you have a council meeting in exactly—”
“They can wait.”
“They really cannot.”
“They can,” he said, and there was something almost dangerous in how certain he sounded. His hands found your waist, scorching through the layers of crimson silk as he pushed closer, forcing the edge of the map table to press harder against the back of your thighs. The carefully organized naval reports crinkled beneath your palms when you braced yourself, and Zuko’s eyes dropped to the movement before lifting back to your face, dark and possessive and entirely too pleased with the way your composure had started to slip.
You opened your mouth to respond, but whatever clever retort you had prepared vanished the moment his lips brushed the side of your neck. Zuko had always loved you with a terrifying kind of intensity, and when his emotions caught fire, he had a habit of kissing like he was trying to prove something to both of you at once. Still, there was nothing uncertain in the way your fingers curled into his collar, nothing hesitant in the way you pulled him closer, dragging him down until his mouth finally crashed against yours.
The kiss wasn’t elegant. It was teeth and heat and months of carefully leashed obsession finally snapping under the weight of one careless accusation.
Zuko kissed you like he was still trying to prove a point, like every word you had thrown at him had struck somewhere too close to an old wound and he had decided the only acceptable response was to make you forget you had ever doubted him. One large, calloused hand slid up your spine, fingers spreading firmly between your shoulder blades while the other gripped your hip hard enough to make the silk wrinkle beneath his palm. You answered by biting his lower lip, and the low, broken sound that tore from his throat went straight through you.
“My lord,” you gasped against his mouth, freezing fingers twisting into the front of his robes. “You’re gonna be late—”
“Don’t care,” he panted, voice wrecked and rough. He shoved your skirts up with impatient hands and lifted you onto the map table in one motion. Scrolls scattered. An inkwell tipped over, spilling black across weeks of careful work, but neither of you noticed.
You barely had time to brace yourself before he pushed your legs apart. He freed himself with jerky movements, and the thick, scorching heat of his cock dragged against your inner thigh. You shivered at the contrast.
“Zuko—f-fuck—” The word broke into a sharp moan as he pushed inside you in one deep thrust, stretching you open around burning heat. The clash of temperatures dragged ragged groans from both of you.
He moved with none of his usual restraint after that, the table creaking beneath you as ruined scrolls slipped uselessly to the floor. Your freezing hands clutched at his shoulders, frost blooming beneath your fingertips before melting almost instantly against the fevered heat of his skin.
“You’re unbearable when you’re—ah!—jealous,” you managed between breaths, the words shaky and broken.
Zuko let out a breathless, almost pained laugh against your neck, hips never slowing. “And yet you keep giving me reasons.”
He shifted just enough to find the angle that made the whole room blur at the edges.
“Zuko—right t-there,” you gasped, head falling back as your legs tightened around his waist. The firelights in the study answered before he could, flickering wildly as his control slipped. Flames stretched higher in the sconces, throwing restless gold across the walls, while a nearby candle flared too bright and caught the corner of a discarded scroll.
Neither of you stopped.
Zuko moved with terrifying concentration, one hand planted against the table, the other gripping your thigh as if he needed something solid to hold onto. The room filled with heat, paper crumpled beneath you, and somewhere behind him, another small flame caught at the edge of an old tapestry.
“Zuko—ah, fuck—I’m—” Your words dissolved into a broken moan as you came first, sudden and shattering. Your walls clenched tight around his burning length.
The cold rush dragged him over the edge right after. He buried himself deep with a choked groan, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. His inner fire roared so fiercely that two of the wall sconces burst into tall, uncontrolled flames for several seconds before slowly settling.
For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the soft crackle of the small fires still licking at the edges of the room.
Zuko stayed buried inside you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His breath was hot and uneven against your neck. You carded freezing fingers through his messy hair and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred cheek.
“…You’re definitely late now,” you whispered, voice hoarse.
When Fire Lord Zuko finally strode into the grand hall—hair slightly mussed, ceremonial robes hastily straightened, and a very obvious trail of fresh dark marks blooming along the side of his neck—the temperature in the palace had spiked noticeably. The decorative fire sconces outside the royal study were still flaring brighter than usual.
Avatar Aang took one look at him, then at the faint sheen of lingering frost melting on Zuko’s collar, and choked violently on his tea.
The rest of the council suddenly found the table extremely interesting.
Zuko, however, simply took his seat with that terrifyingly composed Fire Lord mask firmly back in place. Though the faint, smug curve at the corner of his mouth gave him away completely.
He was exactly seven minutes late.
And he didn’t look sorry at all.
O3 | “SIR, I’M NOT PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS.”
The outdoor training courtyard was not safe from your antics either. The afternoon sun was blistering, turning the stone tiles warm beneath your bare feet, but the heat rolling off Zuko’s skin was even hotter. He moved across the courtyard with lethal precision, dual dao swords flashing in sharp silver arcs as he pressed forward. You met him strike for strike, your waterbending weaving through his aggression like a river cutting through stone. He had trained under masters, survived wars, fought prodigies and assassins and spirits, but you had learned his body in motion with a familiarity that made every sparring match feel less like combat and more like a private language.
He swung low. You stepped over the blade. He pivoted, and you caught the shift in his weight before he completed the motion, twisting your wrist and drawing moisture from the air until it hardened into a wicked, glittering blade of ice. With a sharp sweep of your ankle and a perfectly timed pull of water beneath his heel, you sent him off balance. Zuko hit the ground with a rough grunt, and before he could recover, you vaulted forward, straddling his waist and pressing the freezing tip of your ice dagger directly against the erratic pulse beating at his neck.
“Dead,” you panted, victorious and breathless, a smirk curling at your lips.
Zuko didn’t look at the blade. He looked at you.
His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his chest rising and falling beneath the open collar of his training robe. His golden eyes dragged slowly from your triumphant expression to the way your thighs pinned him in place, and the sudden clash of your freezing temperature against his scorching skin visibly wrecked whatever remained of his concentration. A soft cloud of steam curled where your bare legs pressed against him. His hands flexed once at his sides, then slid up to grip your thighs with desperate, reverent heat.
He had simply stopped trying.
“You’re distracted,” you accused, breathless and smug.
Zuko’s gaze flicked back to yours, dark and unashamed. “Well, you’re sitting on top of me.”
“That is a terrible excuse.”
“It’s a very convincing one.”
You laughed, delighted, but the sound barely had time to leave your mouth before his hand moved to the back of your neck and pulled you down into a kiss. The ice dagger dissolved instantly, melting into a harmless stream of water that ran over his collarbone and disappeared into the fabric of his robe. You meant to tease him for surrendering so easily, but then his hips shifted beneath you, and the thought scattered completely. Through the thin layers of training clothes, you felt the unmistakable hard line of him pressed against you, hot and insistent, betraying exactly why his focus had slipped in the first place.
Your breath caught against his mouth.
His grip on your thighs tightened, and when you moved by accident—just a slight shift of your weight over his lap—his reaction was immediate. A rough, strained sound broke low in his throat, his head tipping back against the ground for half a second before his golden eyes snapped back to yours, darker than before. The victory in your expression slowly turned into something far more dangerous.
“Oh,” you breathed, unable to stop the smile spreading across your lips. “So that’s why you lost.”
You shifted again, deliberately this time, just enough to make the heat between you drag in a way that stole the air from both of your lungs. Zuko’s hand slid up to your waist, holding you in place, but he did not push you away. If anything, he pulled you closer, guiding the slow, heated movement until the line between sparring and something far less appropriate blurred completely.
Around you, the courtyard seemed to inhale. The lanterns along the wall flared, the training posts began to smoke, and a nearby guard, who had unfortunately chosen that exact moment to enter through the side gate, stopped mid-step, stared at the scene, and very slowly turned around.
He did not get paid enough for this.
Two more guards followed him without a word.
By the time the flames around the courtyard settled, three practice posts had been scorched, one stone pillar had cracked from thermal shock, and Zuko had somehow managed to look both smug and completely ruined at the same time. You brushed ash off his shoulder later, trying very hard not to laugh, while he stood there with his hair destroyed, his robe uneven, and the kind of expression that made it very clear he had absolutely no regrets.
“This is why the staff avoids us,” you told him.
Zuko leaned down until his mouth brushed your ear. “Good.”
O4 | STEP ONE: CALL HIM ZUZU!
But the most chaotic incident happened in the supposed privacy of your royal bedchamber, fueled by three generous glasses of imported plum wine and your unfortunate discovery of Zuko’s old travel chest.
You were delightfully, shamelessly drunk, rummaging through the old belongings he had kept tucked away at the back of the chamber while he watched you from the bed with the wary patience of a man who knew his wife well enough to expect disaster. There were old cloaks, worn maps, a few dull blades wrapped in cloth, and several items from the years he clearly did not enjoy discussing unless he was already half-asleep and emotionally ambushed by your cold hands on his chest.
Then you found the mask.
The infamous wooden Blue Spirit mask stared up at you from beneath a folded travel cloak, its painted grin just as dramatic as the stories had promised. Your eyes widened. Your mouth fell open. Zuko, immediately sensing danger, sat up.
“No,” he said.
You slowly lifted the mask.
“No.”
“Zuko.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Zuzu.”
His expression tightened. “Don’t Zuzu me.”
You turned toward him with the biggest, most delighted smile he had ever seen, clutching the mask like a sacred treasure. “Katara told me about this.”
Zuko closed his eyes.
Of course Katara had told you. Katara had a gift, and it was not just waterbending, healing, or her terrifying ability to mother people into becoming better versions of themselves. No, Katara had the supernatural ability to make traumatized boys confess their entire life stories to her. Jet, Aang, Sokka, Zuko; somehow all of them had, at one point or another, looked into her kind blue eyes and decided, yes, this girl absolutely needed to hear the worst thing that had ever happened to them.
And now, thanks to her, you knew about the Blue Spirit, which meant Zuko was doomed.
It started as a joke, as most of your terrible ideas did. You had dragged the mask out of his travel chest with far too much excitement, demanded he put it on, and somehow managed to bully the Fire Lord of the Fire Nation into indulging you with nothing but wine-bright eyes and a smile he had never learned how to refuse. The bargain had been simple, if deeply unfair: he would wear the mask, and in return you would sit sweetly in his lap—taking him fully inside you and staying there without moving.
Which, technically, you were doing.
The plum wine had left you warm and loose above him, your arms looped lazily around his neck while Zuko sat against the pillows with the last of his dignity barely hanging on by a thread. He was buried deep inside you, thick and throbbing while your walls wrapped snugly around his cock. He tried very hard to act like this was not the most unreasonable form of torture you had ever invented.
The mask stared back at you with its sharp painted grin, pale tusks, hollow eyes, and all the dramatic menace of a nightmare that had learned theater. It should not have been funny. It definitely should not have been romantic. But you, warmed by plum wine and your own terrible sense of humor, looked at him like this was the most delightful thing you had ever seen.
Zuko, unfortunately, had no idea what to do with that.
He had been perfectly willing to toss the mask aside the second you dragged it out of his travel chest, but you had whined so dramatically when he reached for it that he froze mid-motion, one hand hovering beside the painted blue grin.
“Nooo,” you complained, clutching at his wrist with both hands. “Keep the mask on.”
Zuko went still beneath you.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m extremely serious.”
“The mask is crooked.”
“That makes it better.”
“It does not.”
“It does,” you insisted, squinting at him with the solemn concentration of someone trying very hard to appear artistic while very drunk. The Blue Spirit’s painted grin stared back at you, all sharp teeth and dramatic menace, while the actual Fire Lord behind it sat painfully still beneath your attention. “You look very mysterious.”
“I look ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously hot,” you said, then reached up with both hands to adjust the strap.
Unfortunately, your coordination had been murdered by plum wine. Instead of fixing it, you somehow made the mask tilt even farther to one side, turning the fearsome Blue Spirit into something lopsided, sulky, and deeply offended. You stared at him for one long, silent second.
Then you giggled.
It was such a small thing. A drunken little request, harmless and silly, made with your eyes bright from wine and your smile too soft to be cruel. Still, insecurity struck him faster than reason could. For one brief, awful second, his mind went somewhere old and ugly, back to every stare that had lingered too long on his scar, every flinch hidden behind polite manners, every person who had looked at the burned side of his face before they looked at him.
His voice came out quieter than he intended. “What, is the mask better?”
You blinked.
Then your expression changed so quickly it almost hurt to watch. The teasing vanished, replaced by something fiercely offended, as if the thought itself had personally insulted you. “No, silly,” you said, already reaching for the edge of the mask. “I just wanna tease you.”
Before he could answer, you pulled it off his face and yeeted it over your shoulder with absolutely no grace. Weee. The mask sailed through the air in a tragic little arc before landing harmlessly somewhere among the cushions.
Zuko stared after it, then he stared back at you.
Without the mask, his face was fully visible in the dim amber light of the bedchamber: the strong line of his jaw, the softness of his mouth, the old scar that had shaped him without ever making him any less beautiful, and the golden eyes that had once burned with anger but now looked at you with something so painfully devoted it made your chest ache. You cupped his face with both hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks with wine-soft tenderness.
“Nothing beats your pretty face, Zuzu.”
Zuko went completely still.
There it was again, that impossible thing you did to him. You could tease him until his ears went red, bully him into wearing an old vigilante mask, laugh at his suffering like it was your favorite hobby, and then suddenly say something so gentle that it cut through every defense he had ever built. You were smiling at him like his face, scar and all, was not something to tolerate or look past, but something precious. Something beloved.
And because the spirits were apparently cruel, you said it while sitting so close, while your body was wrapped around his, while he was already buried deep inside you and trying very hard to pretend he was not losing every last scrap of composure he had left.
It made him want to come right there and then.
“Stop,” he rasped.
You tilted your head, still smiling. “Huh? Why?”
His hands tightened at your hips, not enough to hurt, only enough to keep you still. His jaw worked once, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he tried to gather whatever dignity had not already been ruined by you. “Just…” His voice came out strained, almost embarrassed. “Don’t move, unless you want to get pregnant.”
For one second, your wine-softened mind processed the warning.
Then your smile turned wicked.
“You do know I can just bend your—” You paused, waving one hand vaguely between you with far too much confidence for someone explaining absolutely nothing. “Your stuff, right?”
The gesture made no scientific sense whatsoever, but you delivered it with the calm certainty of a woman who had never once allowed anatomy, physics, or basic decency to stop her.
You leaned closer, lips hovering near his, mischief bright in your wine-soft eyes. “Besides, it’s not like that hasn’t happened before.”
Zuko’s eyes shut for half a second.
“That is not the problem.”
“Then what is the problem, my lord?” you asked sweetly, pressing slow, teasing kisses along the side of his neck, up the sharp line of his jaw, and finally near the corner of his mouth.
His breath left him unevenly, almost a laugh and almost a groan. He looked humiliated by his own body, but too far gone to pretend he was not completely ruined by you. “The problem,” he said, voice tight with restraint, “is that we have barely done anything.”
Your expression brightened with realization.
“Oh,” you whispered, delighted. “So this is about your pride.”
“Do not sound so pleased.”
“I’m very pleased.”
“Y/N.”
You shifted just enough to make his grip tighten again, just enough to pull a rough, broken sound from low in his throat. His teeth caught against his lower lip, his head tipping back against the pillows as if sheer stubbornness alone could hold him together. It was adorable, actually. Devastating, but adorable.
The more he thought about it, the worse it became. The warmth of you around him, your legs wrapped lazily around his waist, your hands still cradling his face like he was something worth loving carefully. Every soft movement, every breathless little laugh, every fond look you gave him pushed him closer to the edge he was desperately pretending he had not already reached.
So naturally, you moved again.
Slowly. Teasingly. Just enough to shred whatever pride he had left.
The lantern beside the bed flared so brightly the room flashed gold.
Zuko’s composure broke all at once. His hands clamped around your hips, his whole body going tense beneath you as a low, wrecked groan tore from his throat and disappeared into the curve of your neck.
“Fuck— I’m—” His voice broke into a wrecked groan. His hips jerked up once, twice, then he came hard.
You felt the first thick spurt of his cum shoot deep inside you, hot and sudden. His member pulsed strongly, again and again, flooding your walls with rope after rope of warm release. It was so much that it quickly spilled out around where you two were joined, slick and messy, dripping down his shaft and over your thighs every time he twitched.
Zuko shuddered beneath you, mouth open in a silent moan as another powerful spurt filled you. His whole body tensed, muscles straining, while the sconces around the room surged with bright blue-white flames that lit up the entire bedchamber for several long seconds. One of the hanging lanterns flared so intensely the flame nearly touched the canopy before settling.
When it finally slowed, Zuko was breathing hard, chest heaving, looking thoroughly ruined and a little mortified. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, and his golden eyes were glassy with pleasure and embarrassment.
Then you looked down at him, unbearably pleased with yourself.
Zuko dragged one heavy hand down his face as if asking the spirits why they had made him fall in love with the most infuriating woman alive.
“Haa…” he breathed, glaring at you with absolutely no real anger. “You just love to test my patience, don’t you, my queen?”
A sweet, bright giggle escaped you, echoing through the quiet chamber. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred collarbone, feeling his pulse jump beneath your lips.
“Oh, absolutely.”
His laugh was low and wrecked, his hands sliding carefully back to your waist.
And the night, of course, was only beginning.
O5 | THE FIRE LORD IS A SUCKER FOR HIS WIFE
Tucked deep behind the private wing of the palace, the moon garden was quieter than the formal courtyards and far more intimate than the public terraces. Zuko had commissioned it shortly after your wedding, though he had tried to be painfully casual about the entire thing, as if personally designing a secluded garden filled with your favorite flowers, a koi pond cold enough for your waterbending, and shaded stone paths made specifically for evening walks with you was not the most obvious confession of devotion in the world. It had a narrow pond lined with black volcanic stones, clusters of red fire lilies blooming beside pale moonflowers, and a curved stone bench beneath a low maple tree whose leaves looked almost black under the night sky. The servants rarely entered unless summoned, the guards only passed the outer gate during patrol, and the entire place was usually reserved for those rare moments when the Fire Lord wanted silence with the only person he could never bear to be away from for long.
Naturally, that peace did not last.
You found Zuko there after midnight, sitting on the curved stone bench with his outer robe hanging loosely from one shoulder and most of his formal layers already pushed aside in clear, stubborn defiance of medical common sense. His long hair had slipped free from its tie, dark strands falling over his face and sticking to the damp line of his neck. The moonlight caught the hard planes of his bare chest and abdomen, tracing silver along old scars, tense muscle, and the familiar golden warmth of his skin. One arm was draped lazily over the back of the bench, but the pose was too deliberate, too careless in the way only Zuko could be when he was trying to pretend something did not hurt.
Then you saw the blood.
A dark smear stained the exposed skin of his upper thigh, where a shallow but ugly cut had torn. It was not fatal, not even close, but it was bleeding enough to make your stomach twist and your irritation rise immediately behind it. Zuko, of course, looked more annoyed at being discovered than concerned about the wound itself, because apparently becoming Fire Lord, surviving assassination attempts, getting married, and promising to stop carrying the entire world on his shoulders had done absolutely nothing to cure him of his lifelong allergy to asking for help.
“You’re bleeding,” you said.
Zuko glanced down at his thigh as if the wound had personally inconvenienced him. “It’s just a scratch.”
“It’s leaking.”
“That is usually what blood does.”
You stared at him.
He stared back.
The lantern beside the koi pond flickered once, as if even the flame knew he had said the wrong thing.
With a long, suffering breath, you crossed the garden, gathered your skirts in one hand, and crouched down between his parted knees before he could argue again. Zuko’s expression shifted immediately, the sharp edge of his stubbornness catching on surprise. You ignored it, drawing water from the koi pond with a smooth curl of your wrist until it rose in a clear ribbon and wrapped itself around your fingers. The moment your glowing palms settled near his thigh, the moon garden filled with soft blue light.
“You should have called me,” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the wound as the healing water spread gently over torn skin.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You woke three guards, two ministers, and probably half the turtle-ducks by bleeding through the royal hallway, but yes, thank you for sparing me.”
His mouth twitched. “The turtle-ducks are strong. They will recover.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You married me.”
“Still questioning that.”
His quiet laugh was low and tired, but it warmed the space between you more intimately than any flame. You pressed your thumb near the edge of the wound to guide the healing water deeper, and Zuko’s breath caught despite his best effort to hide it. The muscle beneath your hand jumped. His fingers curled against the stone bench, long and tense, while the lantern above his shoulder flared a little too brightly.
You looked up.
He looked away with the stiff, guilty dignity of a man who knew exactly what his own fire had just confessed.
“Zuko.” you warned him.
“I know.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“I said I know.”
“You’re injured.”
His jaw flexed. “It is not related.”
“You’re sitting here half-dressed, bleeding on a garden bench, and somehow still finding a way to be embarrassed because your wife is touching your thigh.”
The faint color climbing his neck betrayed him completely, but he still had the nerve to look offended. “You’re kneeling between my legs and scolding me. I’m reacting with impressive restraint.”
The words landed between you with enough heat to make the glowing water tremble around your fingers.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The wound was nearly closed now, the angry red line fading beneath the blue light of your bending until only smooth, warm skin remained beneath your palm. You should have stood, smacked his shoulder for being reckless, and dragged him back inside before the night patrol circled past the outer gate again. The moon garden was private, yes, but not unguarded; there were still soldiers beyond the walls, servants in the nearby corridors, and a very official expectation that a secluded garden built for quiet walks would not be used for anything else.
Or so everyone kept insisting.
Instead, your hand lingered against his thigh for one second too long, and Zuko’s golden eyes darkened beneath the loose fall of his hair.
The look he gave you made the koi pond steam.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said.
You blinked up at him with exaggerated innocence, though your hand was still resting a little too comfortably against his newly healed thigh. “I’m healing you.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m just naturally joyful person.”
“Joyful person, huh? No wonder you threatened to freeze a councilman’s tongue this morning.”
Your expression didn’t change. “He interrupted my breakfast.”
“That doesn’t support your argument.”
A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it, soft and bright in the quiet garden, and just like that, whatever remained of Zuko’s restraint seemed to fold in on itself. His expression changed, irritation melting into something far more dangerous and far more tender. He looked at you the way he always did right before the palace lost another curtain, like your laughter was the only sound in the world that mattered and his fire had no idea what to do with the feeling.
His hand lifted from the bench and touched your chin, tilting your face up with a gentleness that made your chest ache.
“The wound is healed,” he murmured.
You glanced down. It was. Completely.
“So it is,” you whispered.
“You’re still kneeling.”
“Well, duh, you’re holding my face.”
His thumb brushed once along your chin, then higher, grazing your lower lip with the kind of careful heat that made the entire garden feel suddenly too quiet.
The moon garden went very still around you. The koi pond steamed faintly at the edges. The fire lilies glowed red beneath the lantern light, and the night air warmed until the scent of maple leaves, water, and Zuko’s familiar cedar heat wrapped around you like a warning.
You forgot whatever clever thing you were about to say.
Instead, your gaze dropped, which Zuko noticed almost immediately.
His thumb stilled against your mouth. “Y/N.”
There was warning in his voice, but not nearly enough conviction behind it. Not when he was still half-dressed on the stone bench, hair loose around his flushed face, newly healed thigh still warm beneath your hand, and looking at you like he had already lost the argument before it began.
You tilted your head with exaggerated innocence. “What?”
“You know what.”
You pressed a slow kiss to the inside of his newly healed thigh, right where blood had stained his skin only moments ago, and Zuko’s breath fractured so sharply it nearly ruined his attempt at dignity. His fingers curled against the stone bench, then slid into your hair, not pushing, not guiding, just holding on like he needed something solid while the rest of him quietly gave up.
“I’m very thorough.”
His eyes narrowed. “That is not what thorough means.”
“It is when I’m the healer.”
The lantern nearest the koi pond flared, once again.
You looked up at him.
Moonlight painted silver across his bare chest, the hard lines of his abdomen, the old scars scattered across his skin, and the faint sheen of sweat gathering at his throat. His long hair hung loose and messy, a few strands clinging to the sharp line of his jaw. He looked like a man who had survived wars, assassination attempts, exile, palace politics, and half the world trying to break him.
And somehow, this was what undid him.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he breathed, voice rough and helpless.
Your smile softened for half a second. “Wrong,” you murmured playfully, kissing him again, slower this time. “I’m going to make you feel better.”
Zuko’s laugh came out low and wrecked, barely more than a breath.
Whatever answer he meant to give disappeared when you tugged the rest of his robe aside and freed him. He was already achingly hard, flushed dark and leaking at the tip. You dragged your tongue slowly from base to head, savoring the way his thigh muscle jumped under your free hand.
Zuko let out a shaky exhale, head tipping back against the bench. “Hah—Y/N,”
You answered by taking him into your mouth, slow and wet, sinking down until he bumped the back of your throat. A low, broken sound escaped him—something between a groan and a sigh, like the tension he’d been carrying all night was finally cracking.
You worked him with lazy, deliberate strokes of your mouth, one hand stroking what you couldn’t take while the other rested possessively on his uninjured thigh. Every time you hollowed your cheeks or swirled your tongue, his hips twitched, fighting the urge to thrust.
The muscles in his abdomen flexed visibly with every stroke of your tongue as his breathing grew more uneven. You could feel him throbbing, getting impossibly harder against your tongue.
When you looked up, his golden eyes were fixed on you—dark, overwhelmed, and completely unguarded. The sight made something warm bloom in your chest.
The sight only made you greedier. So you slowed down, cruelly deliberate now, learning the exact rhythm that made his breath catch and then denying him the moment he got too close. Every time you felt his thighs tense and his member start to throb harder against your tongue, you eased off, licking lazily along the underside or sucking softly on just the head until his hips twitched with frustration.
His fingers tightened in your hair, not forcing you, but clearly fighting the urge to. “Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, almost pleading. “Don’t—ah—don’t tease me like this.”
You pulled off with a wet pop, lips glistening, and looked up at him with a wicked little smile. “But you look so pretty when you’re desperate.”
Zuko’s eyes shut, his jaw clenching as if the words had struck somewhere embarrassingly deep.
You sank back down immediately, taking him to the back of your throat in one smooth motion. Zuko groaned, head falling back against the bench as his hips jerked. You could feel him getting dangerously close again—thick and pulsing on your tongue—so you pulled back once more, stroking him slowly with your hand.
He let out a wrecked sound, half curse, half whimper. “You’re cruel… but—fuck, hah—you’re so beautiful.”
You hummed around him in response, the vibration pulling another quiet curse from his lips. You took him deeper, faster, letting the wet sounds mix with his ragged breathing and the gentle ripple of water. One of your freezing fingers traced the sensitive skin just beneath his cock, the sharp temperature contrast making his whole body jerk.
The second time you pulled him back from the edge, he lost whatever pride had been keeping him silent.
“Please,” he rasped.
For once, he looked less like a ruler and more like a man entirely at his wife’s mercy.
You looked up at him with a wicked, affectionate smile, still stroking him fast and tight. “Cum for me, Zuzu.”
For a heartbeat, he tried not to.
You saw it in the sharp clench of his jaw, the way his fingers tightened in your hair without pulling, the way his breath caught and broke like he could still argue his way out of surrendering. Then his restraint snapped quietly, then all at once.
The Fire Lord came with a choked, broken groan, his hips jerking up uncontrollably as the first thick, hot spurt flooded your mouth. You moaned around his pulsing cock, swallowing greedily, but there was too much—thick ropes of cum kept shooting across your tongue, so much that it overflowed almost immediately. It spilled from the corners of your stretched lips, dripping messily down his throbbing shaft and over your fingers as you kept stroking him through it. The sheer amount of it made your thighs press together, heat pooling low in your belly at how desperately his body was giving in to you.
He shuddered hard beneath you, muscles taut and trembling, his long hair sticking to his sweat-damp neck and chest. His golden eyes were half-lidded, glazed with raw pleasure as he watched you take every drop like you were starving for him.
The koi pond steamed violently. A nearby fire lily bush glowed red-hot before slowly dimming.
When it finally subsided, Zuko was slumped against the bench with his chest heaving, your husband looked beautifully ruined. You pulled off slowly, licking your lips clean with a small, satisfied smile. A thin string of cum still connected your bottom lip to him before it broke.
“Good boy,” you teased softly.
Zuko stared down at you for a long moment, something raw and helpless in his expression.
“…You’re impossible,” he finally whispered, voice hoarse and wondering, as if he still couldn’t believe you were real.
You pressed one last soft kiss to his thigh and smiled.
“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted, my lord?”
His smirk deepened at your question.
Clearly, you had not realized how much danger that pretty little mouth of yours had put you in.
Zuko was still flushed, still catching his breath, still looking far too ruined for a man who had any right to recover so quickly. But his hands were steady when they reached for you, sliding beneath your arms and pulling you up into his lap before you could even think to escape.
You landed against him with a soft gasp, your skirts spilling messily over his thighs. The warmth of him pressed through the fabric, unmistakable and already returning, and suddenly your teasing smile did not feel quite as victorious as it had a moment ago.
“My wife always knows best, doesn’t she?” he murmured, his voice low against your mouth.
O6 | UPDATE: THE FIRE LADY IS FINE
By the end of the first month, the palace had adapted with the grim efficiency of a nation recovering from war. The maids carried water buckets as part of their standard duties, the guards learned which corridors to avoid based on heat patterns alone, and the council stopped scheduling meetings too close to breakfast, lunch, dinner, sparring sessions, diplomatic arguments, late-night kitchen raids, library research, moon garden strolls, or any moment where the Fire Lady happened to smile at her husband for longer than three seconds. The palace seamstresses quietly reinforced your gowns, the head chef hid the good towels, and the royal archivist posted a handwritten warning outside the study that simply read: NO OPEN FLAMES NEAR NAVAL DOCUMENTS, which everyone understood was not actually about candles.
Zuko pretended to be offended by all of this, but you knew better. For all his muttering about dignity and decorum, the Fire Lord was utterly hopeless. He had spent years learning how to contain himself, how to swallow rage, how to make his fire precise enough to serve a nation instead of destroy it. Yet somehow, all it took was your hand on his sleeve, your mouth near his ear, your laughter pressed against his throat, or apparently the simple act of healing a wound on his thigh, and the most powerful firebender in the world became a walking architectural threat.
The newest maid finally understood after one night, when she heard your bright, breathless laughter from behind the royal chamber doors, followed by Zuko’s low voice murmuring something far too soft to be anger. The sconces outside the hallway flared blue-white, the temperature spiked, and suddenly every vague warning from the senior maids made horrifying, embarrassing sense.
By dinner, her diary had only one update:
DEAR DIARY,
thankfully, the fire lady is fine.
the furniture, however, is not.
After that, she stopped asking questions and started carrying a water bucket like everyone else.
These days, the palace staff had been working very hard. If they were lucky, you had already set the fire down with your bending before anyone arrived. If they were not, they had to manually put out the flames before replacing another curtain, cushion, napkin, table runner, practice post, garden lantern, or emotionally unfortunate bread basket. Still, no matter how violently the sconces flared or how many unfortunate pieces of furniture fell victim to the Fire Lord’s complete lack of restraint around his wife, the flames never once touched you.
Even when his control slipped because of you, even when desire made the air shimmer and the palace lights burn brighter than they had any right to, Zuko’s fire always curved away from your skin. It burned around you, sparked above you, and curled through the air like devotion given shape, but it never hurt you. It would never hurt you. His fire had been raised in anger, sharpened by war, and forced for years to survive on pain, but with you, it had learned something gentler, something warmer, something sacred.
With you, his fire had learned love.
And love, no matter how brightly it burned, would always know how to keep you safe.
this is part of the sublimation ( my zuko fic ) universe! read more chapters
this oneshot took me like ~7 hours btw. i need everyone to clap because what the hell </3
anw i alr finished the atla la s2 n it was so good !! altho they skipped n reordered some parts, but it’s prolly bc of the budget... welp, i can’t wait for the movie to come out.
aang who's a gentle type of toxic, do you guys see what i'm getting at?
like he'll do something messed up and then apologise deeply for it so you won't leave him. and maybe the messed up thing is giving your friend a thinly veiled threat because he knows they have a crush on you and aang refuses to let anyone even try to take you from him.
but he apologises when you find out, literally falls to his knees and promises to never do it again and you forgive him because maybe aang just had an off day.
until it happens again and maybe you're a bit blinded by your love for aang to see that he's actually quite manipulative.
Husband!Higuruma, who notices every little detail about you. The way your voice softens when you’re tired, the way you linger in the doorway to his office while he’s working, the way you snore softly when you’re sick. Everything.
Husband!Higuruma, who relaxes the moment you cuddle up against him in bed after a long, tiring day, one arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer.
Husband!Higuruma, who pretends to be composed and serious, but the minute you tease him his ears and cheeks turn red and his grip on you tightens a minuscule amount
Husband!Higuruma, who stays up late at his desk with papers scattered everywhere, running his hand over his face as he looks over the case, only to pause when you walk in with a cup of coffee, made just how he likes it with cream and sugar. His expression softens instantly as he realizes you pick up on the small details about him.
Husband!Higuruma, who notices tears brimming in your eyes when you’re getting overwhelmed, and quietly takes things out of your hands and tells you, “I’ve got it, go sit and relax.”
Husband!Higuruma, who murmurs quiet reassurances against your hair as he holds you close when you’re overthinking, voice low and steady, promising that no matter what happens, you won’t face anything alone again. Reminding you that he’s not going anywhere.
Husband!Higuruma, who doesn’t want to let you go in the morning. Holding you tighter as he buries his face in your neck, and mumbles softly, "Five more minutes… please…" even though he knows he has court in two hours.
pairing aged-up neteyam x omatikaya!huntress reader
notes reader is the sister of neteyam’s best friend, hot-tempered reader (only when it comes to neteyam), cocky neteyam, mutual pining, smut (p in v), oral (f receiving), mentions of blood and violence (not serious)
synopsis being the sister of one of the clan’s most promising warriors is one thing, but having neteyam constantly be there to act as brother #2 is another.
word count 19.4k
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
You blinked against the fractured, liquid beams of gold filtering through the woven ceiling of your sleeping alcove. Your arms were still slightly stiff from yesterday’s grueling training, a drill your father had watched with narrowed, critical eyes. You had performed flawlessly, of course. You had to.
You sat up and rubbed your eyes. Usually, your mornings would be filled by the noise of your mother tending to the hearth, your father lecturing your brother on the strategic importance of patrolling the northern border at dawn, or your brother aggressively sharpening his daggers.
But you knew your parents would be out for the first communion of the two babies born this moon and your brother will be on morning patrol, so you weren’t really expecting to see anyone home so when you padded out into the main living area and saw someone casually lounging on one of the woven ball seats.
You took a sharp breath through your nose.
“You’re finally awake,” he said, his voice deeper than it had been a year ago, carrying that smooth cadence that always irritated you.
He was turning a sleek hunting knife in his hands. At seventeen, he already carried himself with the heavy, unshakeable confidence of a man who knew he was born to lead. You froze for a short moment before your mask snapped back into place, your expression hardening into the cold, untouchable gaze the rest of the clan knew all too well.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice clipped.
He flipped the knife once more, catching it expertly by the hilt before sliding it into his chest sheath, his golden eyes never leaving yours while a slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“I came to tell your brother about the change in patrol rotation. I stayed behind when he left because you were still sleeping. It wouldn't be good to leave you here unguarded.”
You crossed your arms, looking down at him from the slight elevation of the alcove steps. “I don’t need a guard, or protection. Besides, no one in this clan would dare cross into this hut.”
“I am not talking about who, I am talking about what,” he countered easily, pushing himself up to his feet and the sudden height difference made you want to take a step back, though you forced your feet to stay glued to the floor. “This part of Hometree is accessible to stray viperwolves. You know that.”
He was right, much to your annoyance. Because your father was Jake’s second-in-command, your mother a fierce huntress, and your brother a rising star among the warriors, your family’s pod was situated on the lower, more vulnerable branches. It was a position of pride, a statement to the clan that your family stood as a shield between danger and the gentler artisans of the upper branches.
Still, you weren't about to give him the satisfaction. You rolled your eyes, a deliberate show of disrespect that you would never dare attempt to do to him in front of your father.
“I am awake now,” you said coldly, walking past him toward the water basin. “You can leave.”
Neteyam let out a low huff of laughter, his cocky nature bleeding into his posture as he tilted his head. “What, no ‘thank you’?” he asked, a smirk playing on his face.
“I did not ask for you to guard me,” you replied smoothly, bringing your waterskin up and taking a slow, deliberate drink to avoid looking at him.
He chuckled, shaking his head. He turned his back to leave, his long tail flicking lazily behind him, but just as he reached the threshold of the pod, he paused and turned around, pointing a long finger toward the hearth.
“I brought you food from earlier since you weren’t at the communal breakfast,” he murmured, his smirk softening into something a little more private. “I didn't know you were such a sleepyhead.”
Before you could snap back a retort, he slipped through the woven entrance and was gone.
The moment his presence left the room, the invisible weight on your chest lifted. You let out a long, ragged breath as you rolled your eyes. Moving to the edge of the pod, you looked out into the bustling morning of the village, your eyes automatically tracking his retreat.
He walked down the massive branch with an easy grace. It was no secret that his father had once been a dreamwalker, an avatar, and Neteyam seemed to have inherited the broader, more muscular physique of his father, setting him apart from the other boys his age, including your older brother's lanky build, making him look like he belonged with the more seasoned warriors.
You watched him until he vanished into the crowd, a familiar, frustrating knot tightening in your stomach. You noticed everything about him and that never sat right with you. He’s your older brother’s best friend and your brother is his shadow, meaning he was a permanent fixture in your periphery.
It didn’t suffice that girls in the clan would want to befriend you to get closer to your brother, Neteyam had to add to the equation, too. So now, you’re burdened by the constant presence of girls pretending to be chummy with you only to ask you about your brother or Neteyam days later.
It made your life less about you and more about them, making you struggle to find age peers who are actually interested in being friends with you.
Except for Lekya and Reti.
They weren't entirely different from the other girls, they still giggled whenever the young hunters walked past and gush over Neteyam and your older brother. But they always seem to be less intimidated by the coldness, and sometimes, meanness, that you use to fend everyone off. You had long given up on trying to shake their presence off. No matter how coldly you ignored them, they always found a way to tail you around, stubbornly dragging you into their plans until your sharp edges softened just a fraction.
Like some days when they would drag you down to the river for a ‘picnic,’ a concept they had apparently learned from the older girls like Kiri and her friends. Now, they had even brought along a boy named Kar’ek, gentle and sharp-witted. You quickly realized he wasn't a threat to your peace in the slightest; he had absolutely no interest in girls, preferring to watch the young hunters from afar with an appreciative eye.
Surprisingly, you found yourself actually enjoying it. Safely hidden under the shade of the trees where the conversation quickly turned from the weather to the young warriors of the clan. They were talking about them like they were heroes, but you had other ideas, like nitpicking every single imperfection you had witnessed on the training grounds.
In that, you became uncharacteristically talkative. It was obvious to the three that you found none of them attractive. They were all trying too hard.
“Like Nurte yesterday,” you said, leaning back on one hand with a scoff. “He took three entire minutes just to aim at a target that wasn't even moving, all because he knew the girlswere watching. It’s pathetic.“
“Oh, well,” Lekya giggled. “He’s just trying to look brave. What about Tayrel? He practically broke a baby tree trunk with his spear during the strength drills.”
“He missed the dummy entirely and hit the tree because his footing was completely off,” you countered smoothly, rolling your eyes. “He has the balance of a newborn ikran. If a viperwolf actually attacked him, he’d trip over his own tail.”
Kar’ek let out a dramatic, breathless laugh, fanning himself with a broad leaf. “Oh, she is vicious today! But she’s not wrong. Tayrel spends more time oiling his braids than practicing his strikes.”
Not even Neteyam was spared to your nitpicking. You were incredibly detailed when you tore into him, mimicking his cocky posture by puffing out your chest and tilting your head back, mocking his signature smirk.
“And don't even get me started on the golden boy,” you scoffed, lowering your voice to copy his deep, confident cadence. “Look at me, I am Neteyam, I can shoot a bow with my eyes closed because I am so perfect. Please. He drops his left elbow every time he releases an arrow on a hard turn. He’s sloppy when he thinks no one is looking, and that arrogant little half-smile he does when he lands a hit? It looks like he swallowed a sour piece of fruit.”
You laughed, expecting the others to join in on the mockery, but you suddenly realized the riverbank had gone entirely quiet.
You blinked, popping a sweet berry into your mouth. “What? You all have gone silent. Nothing to say about that arrogant boy?”
Kar’ek looked at you like you had lost your mind. “What are you talking about, girl? He is valiant and a gentleman!”
“He is also not arrogant, Y/N,” Reti chimed in, pouting. “He is kind and humble. Just last moon, he helped me carry my heavy fiber bundles all the way to the weaving looms. And your brother helped Lekya!”
You grimaced, the berry suddenly tasting sour. “Show-offs. Both of them. You shouldn't have accepted their help. They only do it so everyone can look at them.”
Before Reti could snap a retort back, the crunch of leaves announced the arrival of a new group. You turned around and saw five young hunters strolling out from the thick foliage, laughing and shoving each other. At the front were your brother, Sak’nur and Neteyam. They had clearly just finished a grueling training session; their skin was glistening with sweat, and they carried themselves with the eager energy of boys ready to plunge into the cool river.
But the moment they stepped into the clearing, Neteyam’s golden eyes locked onto yours.
He raised a single, amused brow. You hadn't even realized you were doing it, but you were glaring at him with enough heat to burn through Hometree. You swiftly slid your gaze to your brother.
“What are you doing here, Sak’nur?” you demanded, your voice cutting through the peaceful atmosphere like a knife.
Your brother blinked, holding his hands out in confusion. “Uh... swimming?”
The other hunters laughed, instantly chiming in. They began boisterously greeting Lekya, Reti, and Kar’ek, completely unbothered by your hostile aura. Kar'ek offered them a witty greeting back, while your “friends” instantly smoothed their hair, their previous defense of Neteyam turning into shy, bright smiles as they began chatting with the boys.
Your sharp eyes found Neteyam again when he chuckled and saw that his eyes were on you, his tail flicking with pure amusement. He tilted his head, looking down at your stormy expression.
“And here I thought the river was supposed to be relaxing,” he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, teasing register meant just for you. “What’s with the scowl, sleepyhead?”
Truthfully, his heart swelled at the sight of you; he loved the fire in your eyes, and his teasing was born from a desperate desire to see you react to him, and only him. But to your ears, it was just another arrogant provocation from him, just like the many other times in the past.
The other hunters caught his words and burst into a loud, obnoxious laughter, with your brother shaking his head at your expense.
The hot flush of embarrassment crawled up your neck, painting your cheeks a deep, furious violet. Without thinking, your hand snapped down, grabbed a heavy, overripe fruit from the leaf platter, and hurled it directly at his chest.
The fruit exploded against his sternum, leaving a sticky, bright purple smear across his smooth skin.
The laughter died instantly. Sak’nur’s jaw dropped, and the rest of the boys froze in sheer shock. No one, absolutely no one, threw things at the future Olo'eyktan.
Neteyam blinked, looking down at the sludge dripping down his chest, and then looked back up at you. You lifted your chin to wait for his anger, already burning in anger, but as his eyes met yours, you saw no fury. Instead, his golden eyes danced with a dangerous, thrilled light. A slow, breathless smile parted his lips. He wasn't insulted at all. He looked utterly captivated.
You let out a sharp, furious hiss, unable to bear the heat of his gaze for another second. Scrambling to your feet, you turned on your heel and sprinted away into the safety of the forest, leaving the river, your friends, and his maddening smile far behind.
Later that night, you sat at your family’s table, just a few paces away from the Olo’eyktan’s family, as the clan hierarchy dictated. The orange glow of the central fire bathed the communal clearing with warmth and you know you would have loved it if you the Sully family’s table weren’t exactly on your line of the sight. Looking at the fire meant accidentally meeting Neteyam’s eyes, which is exactly what happened four times in a row already in the past few minutes.
Beside you, sat Sak’nur, eating heartily, though he occasionally cast a wary glance your way. The memory of the riverbank still plagued you. You didn’t feel sorry at all, but you do feel like you could have handled it better. There were too many witnesses to your volatile nature, what’s worse, it included your brother.
Just as your lips were pulling in a grimace, a movement drew your eye. A fighre stood up in the Sully table and began walking toward your family's area. Neteyam. You let out a deep breath off your nose, pretending to be busy with your food but when Sak’nur elbowed you, you were forced to look up.
As he approached, you noticed he was carrying a leaf square bowl. Inside was a freshly baked sweet-root pie, a delicacy usually reserved for special celebrations.
Your stomach dropped. No. Do not do this here.
“Greetings, sir,” Neteyam said smoothly, dipping his head in a respectful nod to your father before his eyes shifted down to you. The cocky, teasing hunter from the riverbank was gone, replaced by the perfect, dutiful Olo’eyktan to be.
Your father let out a booming laugh. “Neteyam! What is this for?” he asked, looking at the pie.
“I came to bring a peace offering,“ Neteyam answered seriously, his eyes on you.
Your father’s eyes darted between Neteyam and you, his forehead creasing. “A peace offering? For what?”
You took a sharp breath through your nose, your fingers clenching into the fabric of your loincloth. You absolutely hated having your father peek into your business, and you hated, absolutely detested, that Neteyam was staging this elaborate stunt right in front of your parents. You knew that he wasn't actually sorry, that this was a calculated humiliation, a way to trap you into accepting his apology because you wouldn't dare cause a scene in front of your father.
“It is between Y/N and I, sir, if you’ll excuse my refusal to divulge the matter,” Neteyam told him, his voice dripping with humility that you knew was entirely fabricated. He extended the bowl toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with deeply apologetic eyes. He was such a good actor.
Your father’s lips pushed forward, nodding at Neteyam as he shared a quiet laughter with your mother. “Alright, then. I guess this is one of your petty arguments again,“ he said, looking at you. “Daughter. You must remember: Not only is Neteyam much older than you for he is your older brother’s age, but you are also no longer a child.”
Your face burned with further humiliation. You cannot believe this. He has brought this upon you! Huffing a breath of pure fury through your nose, you forced your face into a tight, strained mask of a polite compliance.
You reached out and snatched the bowl from his hands. “Thank you, Neteyam. Your apology is accepted,” you said through gritted teeth.
“I am glad,” Neteyam murmured, a faint, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips telling you exactly how much he was enjoying your frustration. He bowed to your parents once more and walked away.
Stupid boy. Stupid, arrogant, obnoxious boy.
“What happened at the river?” Your father asked the moment Neteyam was out of earshot.
“Nothing, Father,” you lied smoothly, keeping your voice level. “Just a small... disagreement. It is resolved.”
But you made sure to make your true statement when the dinner ended. As your family stood up to leave, you deliberately left the leaf basket sitting squarely in the middle of the empty table, completely untouched.
From across the pavilion, Neteyam watched your retreating back, his eyes falling on the abandoned pie. A heavy sigh escaped him. He should have known a simple pastry wouldn't melt your ice.
Beside him, Lo’ak snickered. “What did you do this time?” he asked.
Neteyam’s jaw locked as his lips formed a thin line. “Said something about her scowl.”
Lo’ak stared at him for a moment before the boy doubled over in a fit of laughter. “Skxawng,“ he said. “Girls do not like hearing about their facial expressions! The same way they don’t like hearing comments about their hair, like your crime the last time!”
Neteyam’s forehead creased. “I told her the side part suited her best!”
“Which is implying that the previous look looked bad on her. It was also in the delivery, you know? I noticed you seem cocky when you talk to her.” Lo’ak’s eyes narrowed.
“What?” Neteyam asked, bewildered.
Lo’ak rolled his eyes. “Figure it out on your own, bro. You’re smart, it shouldn't be hard.”
His brother walked past, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Neteyam sighed heavily again. He felt as though the weight of Hometree was on his shoulder. He genuinely didn't know what to do with you anymore; you had always been aloof to him, so he tried talking to you and doing things for you, but you met that with coldness, and he lay awake at night wondering what he had done to deserve such an impenetrable wall.
The wall only grew taller during the training cycles. Neteyam tried to be helpful, but that only made your life miserable.
Whenever you practiced your marksmanship at the archery lines, he would happen to pass by and offer a quiet word of encouragement or adjust your stance. But you didn't want his help, especially because the other young huntresses were always watching.
“Look at her,” one of the older girls muttered from the drying racks, loud enough for the words to carry. “Must be nice being Sak’nur’s sister. Neteyam practically hands her the targets.”
“Exactly,” another chimed in, glaring at your back. “She only hits the bullseye because the future Olo'eyktan spends half his day fixing her form. If she didn't have them, she'd be nothing special.”
Hearing them credit all your hard work, your sweat, and your blistered fingers to the men in your life made your blood boil. You turned around to look at them, seeing their mocking expressions as they waited for what you’ll say or do.
“Does that make sense to your pea-sized brains?” you asked, smiling. “That I’m hitting all of those targets simply because someone is adjusting my form, or because I am someone’s sister?”
You nocked an arrow in your bow so fast you had already released it before they could even blink, hitting the feather hair ornament of the girl farthest from you. Your arrow pinned it squarely to the weapon rack behind her.
You tilted your head. “Did my brother fixed your ornament for you, Kur’na?”
A series of furious hisses echoed in the training grounds. “How dare you!” One of the older girls snarled.
They lunged at you, grabbing your braids and clawing at your skin. You fought back as ferociously as you could, grabbing braids, clawing, and punching. You heard heavy footsteps coming and suddenly, your feet are kicking in the air, even landing a hard kick on one of the girls.
You saw your brother and Lo’ak holding the girls back and bellowing for them to stop while you struggled against the strong arms wrapped around you. Your chest heaved as you breathe heavily, trying to calm yourself down.
“Y/N, what’s going on?” Sak’nur asked, his large steps eating up the space between you two.
Realizing who was holding you, you jerked back from the hold to stand on your feet properly. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?! You shot Kur’na!” One of the girls said.
“Where?” you asked.
“There!“ she pointed at the fiber pinned on the rack with an arrow.
“See, I couldn’t have done that. I don’t possess such a marksmanship without my brother or Neteyam fixing my targets for me...” you lied, pushing your lips forward. “So the truth is... You all attacked me senselessly.”
“I’ll have your father hear of this, Sak’nur,” Lo’ak told your brother, moving to walk away just as the girls gasped, fearing that your father, the Olo’eyktan’s second-in-command, would punish them for this.
“No need, Lo’ak,” you said, looking at the girls. “This was just a small training grounds disagreement. Nothing that we can work out among ourselves. Right?“
The girls exchanged tense glances, their expressions twisting into a mix of fear and fury, before they nodded, muttering their silent agreement.
You smiled, “Why don’t you take your break? You’ve been here since the first light.”
They looked absolutely furious, their ears flattened against their heads but they walked away anyway, the sheer humiliation radiating off them in waves. You watched them retreat, your expression completely blank until they were out of earshot. The adrenaline was finally leaving your system, leaving your skin stinging where they had clawed at you.
“What really happend?”
You turned to see Neteyam stepping up beside Sak’nur and Lo'ak. He was the one who had been holding you back, his hands still hovering near his sides as if he wanted to reach out again to check your injuries. His golden eyes swept over the scratches on your arms and neck, his brow furrowed in deep frustration.
“It’s seven against one, bro,” Lo'ak answered for you, crossing his arms. “Did you actually shoot Kur’na, though? If so, that’s insane. Right through the hair piece.”
“It doesn't matter,” Sak’nur growled, looking down at you with a heavy, protective frown. “You shouldn't have provoked them, Y/N. If we didn’t come—”
“I had it under control,” you interrupted, your voice dropping to a cold tone making all three of them pause.
You looked at Sak’nur before letting your gaze lock onto Neteyam. The anger that had been simmering under your skin since the drying racks finally boiled over.
“Listen to me,” you said, stepping back so you could look at them clearly. “Never meddle in my business again.”
Neteyam blinked, looking taken aback. “Y/N, we were just trying to—”
“I don't care what you were trying to do,” you snapped, gesturing sharply toward the targets behind you. “Every piece of gossip on these grounds is about how I am only here because of you and Sak’nur. Every bullseye I hit, every hour I spend sweating under the sun, they credit to my brother or the future Olo’eyktan. And your constant help just proves them right.”
You picked up your bow from the ground, dusting off the dirt with a fierce, rough motion.
“If I am going to fight my battles, I am going to fight them alone. If I get clawed, that's my problem. If I put an arrow through someone's hair, that's my problem too,” you said, your eyes flashing as you looked directly at Neteyam, then back to Sak’nur. “Stay out of it. I don't need you protecting me, and I certainly don't need you fixing my form anymore. Let me handle my own life.”
Without waiting for a reply, you slung your quiver over your shoulder and marched away, leaving the three young hunters standing in silence on the training grounds.
“That doesn’t include me, right?” Lo’ak asked, raising both his hands in the air.
Just like that, three years bled into the passage of time, and the world changed.
It was the night of the Great Feast, celebrating the debut of several young women into adulthood, the age where they were officially recognized as ready to choose a mate.
You were one of them.
The ceremonial paint was fresh on your skin, and the warrior class had taken notice. You were widely regarded as one of the most prized debutantes of the season; your coldness had transformed into an aura of regal elegance, and your legendary skill with a bow only made you more desirable.
Near the roasting pits, a group of older, seasoned hunters were drinking fermented fruit spirits, their voices rising over the music.
“The daughter of the second-in-command has grown into a fine huntress,” one of them remarked, a proud, older warrior. He took a heavy swig from his cup, a dark, possessive grin spreading across his face. “If it were me, she’d be popping out babies every season. A woman like that would breed nothing but strong warriors.”
The men laughed, taking that remark as nothing but a jest, but Neteyam had been standing a few paces away, speaking with your brother and their friends. Every muscle in his massive frame locked tight. The easy-going warrior vanished, replaced instantly by a primal, terrifying rage.
He turned slowly, his golden eyes blown wide, locked entirely on the man. “What did you just say?” Neteyam’s voice was dangerously low but it carried to the group of warriors neaby.
The hunter, older and arrogant, scoffed. He didn't care that Neteyam was the Olo’eyktan’s son. “I said what I said, boy. It is the way of things.”
“Watch your foul mouth before I clip your tongue,” Neteyam snapped back darkly, a lethal rumble vibrating in his chest.
The man sneered, stepping up to match the younger warrior’s height, to no avail. “Why don’t you come over here and say that to my face, boy?”
Neteyam’s fangs bared. “You think I won't?!”
Neteyam handed his bowl of fermented wine to a friend before his large steps ate the space between him and the man.
Every warrior in the Omatikaya was trained in hand-to-hand combat, but Neteyam had been forged by Jake Sully himself. He was broader, taller, and infinitely faster. He had allowed the hunter a single punch before he slammed him into the dirt, his fists flying in a brutal, blinding blur, coming down smash after smash against the warrior’s face
Warriors rushed forward, their deep voices taking the attention of everyone that the drums stopped its rhythm. It took five grown men to finally throw their arms around Neteyam and pull him off. His chest was heaving, his skin slick with sweat and the blood of the man beneath him. But the moment the man tried to stumble to his feet to walk away, Neteyam violently threw the warriors off him, snarling as he lunged forward a second time, entirely unhinged by a rage no one had ever seen in him before.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Mo’at shouted, rushing into the clearing as the chaos finally settled. “Why are you fighting at a sacred feast?!”
Neteyam violently shrugged the remaining hands off his shoulders, his breathing ragged as he pointed a trembling, bloody finger toward the hunter. “He disrespected Y/N!” he roared, his voice echoing across the entire clearing.
A few paces away, completely clueless to the context, you stopped mid-sip, holding your cup to your lips as you blinked. Me...?
Your father, who had watched the entire sequence from where he’s talking with Jake, narrowed his eyes to slits. He had always suspected Neteyam held a certain fondness for you, but this? This was a declaration to evey young man in the clan, as if the years of protecting your name and being protective of you weren’t enough.
Neteyam aggressively wiped a streak of blood from his split lip with the back of his hand, completely uncaring of the stunned stares of the entire clan. You set your cup down and marched straight up to him when you saw him turn around to leave, your face a storm of confusion and irritation.
“What did you do?” you demanded, but your voice didn’t carry the edge it usually would.
Neteyam blinked, surprised by your sudden proximity. Slowly, the fury in his face began to melt, his shoulders dropping slightly as he looked down at you. “He... he was speaking inappropriately about you.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Like how?”
“I refuse to repeat it,” he muttered, suddenly looking like a guilty child being chastised for using foul language.
“Like how, Neteyam?” you repeated, your voice soft, a tone he’d never heard from you before.
He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I do not want to repeat it, and I won’t. I am still seeing red, Y/N. If you make me repeat the words that came out of his mouth, I will go back over there, and I might actually tear him apart.”
You pursed your lips, studying the tight, rigid lines of his jaw. He looked genuinely sickened by whatever had been said. “It was that bad?”
He didn't answer, but his hard, pained expression spoke volumes. You looked at his split, bleeding lip, and then down at his knuckles, which were scraped raw and marred with crimson.
You let out a soft, defeated sigh. “I will go get herbs and a poultice for that,” you muttered, turning to leave.
“No need,” he said quickly, his voice rough. “I didn't do that so you would feel indebted to me.”
You rolled your eyes, turning back and grabbing him by the wrist. The sudden touch made him gasp softly. “I didn't even think that,” you said, pulling him out of the bright clearing and leading him onto a massive, quiet branch away from the pavilion lights. “Get some fresh air and reflect on what you just did.” You widened your eyes at him in a stern warning before walking away for the healing pavilion.
Neteyam stood on the darkened branch, watching your retreating form. He bit the inner flesh of his lower lip, desperately trying, and failing, to suppress the massive, foolish smile threatening to break across his face.
Minutes later, the soft patter of footsteps signaled your return. You carried two small clay jars filled with soothing green paste and woven cloths.
“Did you reflect?” you asked, stepping up to him.
He grimaced, his features twisting in a way that instantly reminded you of the young boy who hated sour fruit he would grimace every time he sees it. “I reflected,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And I think I would do it again if I could. With increasing pleasure every time.”
You shook your head, a faint huff of humor escaping you as you patted the bark of the branch. “You are stupid.”
“I suppose so...” he whispered. He lowered himself to sit on the branch, his eyes locking onto your face. Under the faint warm glow of the large fire inside, you looked so breathtakingly beautiful it made his chest ache.
You knelt before him, dipping your fingers into the cool healing paste. You gently brought your hand to his mouth, dabbing the medicine onto his split lip. “First time you have ever admitted it,” you murmured, raising a brow as your eyes snapped up to meet his. “Finally humble. I like that.”
“Yeah?” he asked, a dangerous, thrilling spark suddenly igniting in the depths of his eyes.
Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his gaze. You quickly recovered, “Only if you are truly humble. But you are not. You are arrogant and obnoxious.”
“Things can be changed,” he smirked, only to instantly hiss as the movement stretched the cut.
“See? Even your wound disagrees with you,” you teased, a genuine smirk playing on your own lips.
“I am saying—”
“Shh,” you interrupted, placing a gentle finger over his good lip.
Neteyam immediately clamped his mouth shut. He didn't say another word, completely content to just sit there, breathing in your scent, paralyzed by the gentle touch of your hands as you began wrapping his raw knuckles with the soft woven cloth. He held his hand perfectly still, refusing to move a single finger, treating your handiwork as if it were the most precious gift from Eywa herself.
A long, comfortable silence settled over the branch, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the music from the festival.
“You are a debutante now...” Neteyam said softly, breaking the quiet.
Your forehead creased in amusement, and a small, rare chuckle escaped your lips. “Uh, yeah? That was what the entire ceremony was about.”
Neteyam blinked in utter surprise, his heart skipping a beat. He stared at you, momentarily speechless. You laughed. You actually chuckled in his presence. It was a historic first.
Clearing his throat to find his voice, he leaned in just a fraction closer. “Have you... thought of suitors? Of mates?”
The lightheartedness instantly vanished from your face, replaced by a deep scowl. “Among the men of this clan?” you asked, shaking your head as you tied off the bandage. “No, thank you. Which is the better choice anyway? All of you get on my nerves.”
You stood up, picking up the empty clay jars and looking down at him one last time.
“I am bringing these back to the pavilion. Try counting to a hundred before you do something stupid again.”
You turned and walked back to the direction of the healing pavillion, your heart hammering against your ribs in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the physical fight you had just witnessed. Neteyam was left sitting alone on the branch, his bandaged hand pressed gently against his chest as he watched you go, his eyes filled with an undeniable, burning yearning.
You like no one in the clan. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face. That was perfect. He could definitely work with that.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The council’s midday gathering at the longhouse carried the scent of leaf tea and crushed sweet grass. Inside, the sunlight dripping through the woven room flickering shadows over the faces of the elders, Jake Sully, Neytiri, and your father, who sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze steady.
Neteyam stood at the center of the room. At twenty one, he had completely grown into the man everyone knew he would be. Taller than most, broad-shouldered, and carries the undeniable, commanding presence of a future leader. But today, his jaw was clamped shut in a tight, defensive line.
The topic on the floor was one he had been dodging for years: his future mating with the daughter of the Anurai clan’s Olo'eyktan. An alliance meant to solidify the bonds between their people.
“Delay this until when, Neteyam?” Elder Katu asked, his weathered voice echoing off the woven walls. “You are twenty-two. You are of age, and the clan looks to its future.”
“Elder Katu, if you should be reminded, my grandfather mated late, too,” Neteyam reasoned smoothly, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “He was forty-three then. He and my grandmother were way past the age of when they first came to adulthood.”
“Are you saying that you want to make Ateya of the Anurai wait that long?” Another elder countered.
“No, I am not saying she should wait at all,” Neteyam replied, his tone firm, yet unyielding. “I am saying I do not want to mate this young. I want to further my training and my diplomatic skills before I settle down. I will be the one mating, this would be for life, and I believe this part of my life should be my call.”
Jake Sully watched his son with a mixture of pride and suspicion, but it was your father whose sharp eyes never left Neteyam’s face. He noticed the slight, restless flick of Neteyam’s tail. He knew the young warrior was a master of discipline, so why was he fighting this alliance so fiercely?
The answer arrived with a soft rustle of the entrance flap.
You stepped into the longhouse with your chin held high, your expression a perfectly crafted mask of a huntress known for her sharp tongue. You had been tasked with delivering the recent patrol briefing to Sa’rin, an elder female warrior sitting near the back.
“I cannot be a good mate if I—”
Neteyam’s head snapping toward the movement at the threshold was entirely instinctual, but when he saw the distinct, bright feathers of your long braids, he did a complete double-take, his golden eyes locking onto your form, his breath hitching just enough that his posture faltered.
“...am not ready...” He trailed as his eyes tracked the fluid, elegant movement of your stride.
You didn’t even look at him, your eyes were trained forward until you reached Sa’rin, whispering to her animatedly. None of the older elders noticed the sudden lapse in Neteyam’s always perfect composure, not even Jake and Neytiri who were too focused on what he was saying.
But your father saw it.
His eyes narrowed into assessing slits, watching Neteyam’s chest rise and fall heavily as the young man desperately tried to refocus on the conversation. It was all the confirmation he needed. Neteyam sees you more than he ought to.
“It is a perfect match, Neteyam, if only you would open your eyes to see. It is known that Ateya is a competent huntress at her age, and a great weaver as well,” one of the elder said, shaking his head.
For the first time, your eyes snapped to the gathered council, your ears twitching at what you heard. Unfortunately, Neteyam has already tore his eyes off of you, or he would have seen the way your face crumpled in what your father perceived as a distaste.
When the elders finally dismissed Neteyam with a warning to think deeply on his duties, the young warrior let out a long, ragged breath as he walked out into the sunlight. He knew everything he had just said to the council was utter bullshit. He was ready for leadership, ready for a mate, ready for the future... but only if that future was you. He would delay every alliance, fight every elder, and play the patient hunter until he finally got you.
But he doesn’t know how to get you.
In the past three years, the air between you two had been significantly better than it used to be, but that was because he heeded what you said about not meddling in your business. He still tried to sneak in help every now and then, but not so much so as to piss you off.
He would hate to wake up the palulukan in you, so to speak.
Your father quietly watched him walk away before transferring his gaze to you once Neteyam was out of sight. Sa’rin was speaking, but you kept glancing at the entryway, your tail moving in agitated flicks behind you. He knew you. He knew that for all the ice and bitter fire you hurled at Neteyam, you were masking something deeper, far more profound. And Neteyam has never really tried to hide what he has for you. People are just really imperceptive.
You two needed a push.
The push came in the form of being assigned to the same hunting pack as each other. You didn’t think much of it, after all, Neteyam is one of the high-ranking hunters of the clan and you knew your rotation would have put you under him one way or another. As usual, you were out before sunrise, while the jungle was still choked with heavy, clinging mist.
This was simply a mid-sized hunting pack, with Neteyam leading the routine sweep of the southern borders. Your brother was currently leading the border patrol, which left you entirely under Neteyam’s command. You kept your distance during the initial trek, silent but cautious of your surroundings.
But Neteyam wouldn’t really be Neteyam if he didn’t know exactly where you were at any moment in time.
When the pack finally halted on a higher valley, Neteyam gathered the hunters. He moved with an easy, terrifyingly efficient confidence, mapping out the flanking routes with quick gestures of his large hands. As the other hunters dispersed to take their positions, you turned to slip toward the western ridge.
“Not so fast,” Neteyam’s voice cut through the air, smooth and low. He stepped into your path, his towering frame blocking the narrow trail. A slow, familiar smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head. “The western ridge is steep, and the morning dew has made the forest floor slick. We’ll take the east.”
You stopped and turned to him. “Whatt’s going on? Afraid of a little slip?” you asked. “I am taking the western flank. I have a cleaner angle, and I do not need a guide.”
Neteyam let out a low huff of laughter, stepping just an inch closer. The heat radiating off his chest was palpable in the cool morning air. He raised a single, amused eyebrow. “Prickly in the morning? I am not offering to guide you. I am telling you where the pack needs you. But if you really think I’m so afraid of a little slippery moss, you should hold my hand.”
Two years ago, your blood would have boiled. You would have hissed, thrown a cutting insult about his ego, and marched off in a fury.
But today? As your eyes locked onto his, tracking the dangerous, playful spark in his golden gaze and the infuriatingly curve of his smirk, your heart gave a sudden, treacherous thud against your ribs. The annoyance you usually relied on as a shield felt flimsy, dissolving into a strange, dizzying warmth.
You didn’t know where it began, but you no longer hate his arrogance. In fact, you realized with a sudden jolt of panic that you were entirely captivated by it.
“I think you can handle the moss perfectly fine, Neteyam," you countered, your voice clipped, though you couldn't quite stop the subtle twitch of your own lips. “Try not to get distracted out there. I would hate for my arrows to do all the work for your pack.”
“I'll try my best to keep up...” he murmured, his voice dropping into that deep, private register that always seemed reserved exclusively for you.
He gave you one last, lingering look before turning to leap into the upper ground with effortless grace. You stood frozen for a second, catching your breath, before fiercely shaking your head. Get it together, you scolded yourself, though the flush on your neck had nothing to do with the physical exertion of the hunt.
He turned to you again, offering a hand. You scoffed, ignoring his hand and leaping on the higher ground yourself. The hunt went flawlessly with three clean kills, but the tension between the two of you only tightened during the trek back.
The pack stopped by a shallow stream to wash the sweat and dirt from their skin. You sat slightly apart from the group on a fallen log, running a whetstone down the edge of your hunting knife when a few paces away, you saw Ley’a, a huntress your age, approached Neteyam. Neteyam, being the dutiful and polite warrior that he was, leaned down slightly to listen, speaking to her with that effortless, smooth charm that came naturally to him.
You saw him smiled, gesturing toward the canopy as if he was explaining something.
You didn't even realize you were staring until the stone slipped against your blade with a sharp, harsh screech. You swallowed and aggressively rolled your eyes, your lips in a thin line as something hot and ugly twisted sharply in your gut. You didn't understand why it was there, but it blinded you.
When the trek resumed again, you walked ahead of everyone, your pace faster than usual and your chin tilted high. Your sharp eyes snapped to your side when you heard footsteps coming, and your brows furrowed immediately when you saw Neteyam’s smirk.
“Are you upset about something?” he asked, matching your pace effortlessly, his strides sure and confident.
You didn’t answer. You wanted to be left alone with your thoughts, but here he is again, taunting words out of you.
“You walk fast when you’re upset.” he added.
You finally turned to him, your eyes narrowed and before your mind could stop your tongue, you spoke, “You speak quite smoothly to girls for a man who is practically spoken for, Neteyam,” you said, your tone dripping with a cold, sarcastic bite.
He looked surprise for a moment, but the smirk returned to his face, though his eyes narrowed with a sudden, intense curiosity. “And what is that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“I am merely wondering what Ateya of the Anurai would say about it,” you scoffed. “Her future mate being a certified womanizer, smooth-talking and flashing his smiles at every huntress. Personally, I would hate to have such a weak-willed mate.”
Neteyam’s lips parted, lagging behind for a fraction of a minute, watching your large steps put a distance between you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he walked after you, his stride purposeful. You looked at him, somehow you’re bothered that he might be angry about what you said, but he didn't look angry; he looked absolutely thrilled by your bite, his cocky persona flaring to life.
“A womanizer?” Neteyam whispered, walking right beside you and leaning down slightly so his face was level with yours. “What are you talking about, smooth-talking and flasing smiles at every huntress?” he asked, his hand itching to touch your forearm but he balled it into a fist.
You didn’t respond, you just continued walking and he kept matching your pace.
“Was it about Ley’a earlier?” he mumbled, his voice so quiet and intimate that it brought heat to your face. “I was just answering a question about a tracking trail,” he explained, his steps growing larger. He walked backward so he could look at you better, his head tilting at the silent ire on your face. “Do you care who I smile at, Y/N?”
Your face crumpled and he chuckled, “I do not care at all,” you snapped back quickly, your chest heaving as you glared up at him. “I am simply making an observation on your character. Or lack thereof.”
“Right. An observation,” he repeated as he raised a brow, his face so light and vibrant you could see the way his pupils were dilating. “Because for someone who claims to find me so arrogant and obnoxious, you seem to spend a remarkable amount of time keeping track of my betrothal status. Should I tell my father to cancel the council meetings, then? Since my future seems to weigh so heavily on your mind?”
Your face burned a deep, furious violet. You stopped abruptly, nearly knocking your shoulder into his chest as you pushed past him.
“Do whatever you want, Neteyam,” you hissed under your breath before marching ahead. “You are entirely insufferable.”
Neteyam didn't follow you right away, he stood by the stream and watched your rigid, angry retreat with a heavy, breathless exhale. His hand traced his jawline, a slow, triumphant grin spreading across his face as his tail flicked lazily behind him.
You looked jealous, absolutely furious, and you seemed very bothered by his betrothal status. He didn’t want to rejoice in the knowledge that you were upset about it, but he couldn’t help it. The heavy weight of the council’s impending arrangements suddenly felt a little lighter. He had a foothold now. And he wasn't going to let it go.
The days following the hunt felt entirely different. The invisible wall you had spent years building was actively crumbling, and the worst part was that you were no longer trying to patch it up.
Neteyam had taken what happened and run with it, his pursuit turning into a relentless, everyday occurrence. He seemed to possess an infuriating ability to materialize out of thin air whenever you were alone.
One afternoon, you were high up in the middle branches of Hometree, sitting on a secluded edge to practice your weaving skills on soft strips of fabric. Your fingers felt thick and clumsy as you tried to lace the soft strips together. You are useless in this for you had never really taken an interest in the domestic arts.
But now... You thought weaving would be a great skill to add to your repertoire.
It’s proving to be a great challenge, though, and staring at the frayed, knotted mess in your lap, you wanted to yank your own braids out for your sudden stupidity. Why had you never thought of ever learning this before? How are you supposed to even weave a loincloth for your future children if you cannot even cross two threads? A scowl deepened on your face.
The thought that you were thinking of children tore through your trance as a sudden, unauthorized image of a child with very familiar features came into your mind. You gasped sharply, your face burning a violent purple.
With a frustrated groan, you balled up the tangled mess of fabrics and threw it violently across the ledge. “Useless,” you hissed to the empty air.
“What is it that you’re upset about now?”
You nearly jumped out of your skin.
Neteyam dropped gracefully from the thick branch above, landing silently on the ledge just a few feet away. He was leaning against the bark, his arms crossed over his chest, a wildly amused smirk playing on his lips. He had a way of appearing out of nowhere lately. At the river, near your training lanes, and now in your private sanctuary.
Your mask snapped back into place, though your heart was hammering against your ribs. “Do you make a habit of stalking me, Neteyam, or do you simply have nothing better to do with your time?”
His lips twisted. “I was actually on my way to the training grounds,” he lied smoothly, taking a slow, confident step closer. His eyes dropped to the tangled ball of fabric on the ledge, and then drifted back up to your flushed face. “But then I saw the fiercest huntress I know fighting a losing battle against some fabrics. I couldn't just walk away.”
“I am not fighting it,” you retorted.
“Right. You're just glaring at it until it weaves itself,” he teased, his voice dropping into that low, rumbling register. He walked over, picking up the discarded bundle. With agonizing slowness, his hands began to effortlessly untangle the knots you had spent an hour making. “You have too much tension in your hands, holding it like a throat you want to crush.”
You watched his fingers move. They were calloused from weapons, larger than yours, yet they handled the delicate threads with a startling, gentle precision. A strange warmth settled deep in your stomach. You were too hyper-aware of how close he was, of the scent of mint and rain on his skin, and the effortless way he commanded your space.
“There...” he mumbled, showing you a perfect line of two woven strips.
You glanced at him through the fringe of your lashes, seeing the small smile on his face. A faint shadow of fear bloomed in your chest and you looked down, “Where did you learn?”
“My mother,” he answered, glancing up at you with a bright smile before he looked back down on his work. “Well, sort of. She’d always tell us to be responsible of our own clothes if it gets a hole or a tear.”
“I didn’t know that...” you mumbled.
He smirked, but somehow it looked less cocky and more... wistful. “The same way I know you can’t weave.”
Your forehead creased. “How’d you know?” you asked, glaring at him but you both know it held nothing bad.
“I pay attention,” he shrugged. “Why are you suddenly taking an interest in this?”
You took the strips from him, your eyes playfully narrowed. “I thought you know things from observing?”
“I guess I'll need to observe more when you weave... So, I can form a guess,” he said.
You pushed your lips forward, wrapping the strips he made on your wrist. “I suck at this. There's no next time.”
“You don’t really need to learn weaving if you don’t want to, you know...” he said, sitting on the branch comfortably.
You thought of the Anurai... About how they are meticulous artisans and how some of the clan’s best tapestries used for certain ceremonies are their handiwork. You didn’t even know you were scowling at your own thoughts, and once again, before you could think properly, you spoke.
“Easy for you to say as someone who would be mating an Anurai,” you said in a clipped tone, gathering your stuff and standing up to leave him there.
His jaw dropped, watching your form retreat and jump a branch down. “What...?” he whispered in the air.
You kept climbing down, the soft soles of your feet gripping the bark as you practically fled from the raw confusion on his face. The weight of your irrational feelings and thoughts were a heavy, suffocating thing and it followed you for days.
You were down by the rivers, tucked away in the humid shade of the trees for another one of your group’s picnics. Over the past years, you had actually grown genuinely close to Lekya, Reti, and Kar’ek. They had ceased to be just annoying people tailing you around, they were now your good friends.
While the three of them babbled animatedly about the latest gossips, you were hunched over, your forehead creased in absolute, soul-crushing concentration. You were trying to recreate the exact interlocking loop Neteyam had shown you on the branch. Your tongue peeked out between your teeth as you fought a thick strand of reed.
“I am just saying,” Reti sighed, leaning back on a woven mat and fanning herself, “if Mar’tu looks at me like that during the next illumination feast, I might just have to let him carry my baskets. He has those shoulders, you know?”
“Oh, please,” Lekya scoffed, tossing a seed at her. “Mar’tu trips over his own feet. If you want shoulders, you look at the patrol leaders.”
Reti sighed, “And what do the patrol leaders even like? They won’t like someone like me. I’m a weaver, Lekya, for freak’s sake. If a mere hunter likes me, I can’t be choosey.”
You pushed your lips forward and glanced up at her, your forehead creased, “Rita. Don’t speak of yourself that way,” you reprimanded. “You’re an excellent weaver. Look at me, I can’t even weave to save my life.” You showed her your botched work. “Who cares about whether warriors and hunters like any of us? They are idiots.”
They bursted out laughing. “Well, I supposed we’ll take it from you. You’re the huntress,” Reti grinned.
“You never grew out of your annoyance for them,” Lekya said. “Where will you find romance if you don’t like any of them?”
You scowled and they laughed harder.
“Well, some of us don't have to look far for romance,” Kar’ek chimed in, leaning forward with a wicked grin. He was lounging on a pile of soft moss, his fingers idly twirling a blade of grass. “Some of us are having secret midnight swims by the eastern pools with a certain hunter whose name rhymes with Zdin’rey.”
Lekya and Reti gasped in unison, leaning in. “Kar’ek! You didn't!”
“But I did,” Kar’ek purred, tossing his braids over his shoulder. “And honey, it was mmaculate!”
Lekya pouted, “Weren’t you with Nakvu last moon?”
Kar’ek snorted, “Well, I realized, I can just take, and take, and take. There are plenty of choices and we must always test the auditonees.”
You chuckled and Kar’ek’s attention pinned on you. He shifted on the grass, grabbing a piece of pie and popping it into his mouth.
“Enough about my scandalous exploits. What about our resident huntress?”
Another two pairs of eyes suddenly locked onto you. You kept your gaze glued to your terrible weaving, though.
“What about me?” you asked coldly, trying to sound aloof.
“You are of age, Y/N. A fully decorated debutante,” Kar’ek pointed out.
Lekya nodded at you, “The warriors practically fall over their own feet trying to offer you meat at the communal fires, and you look at them like they are pile of viperwolf dung.”
“Maybe because they are annoying,” you muttered, shoving a fiber under another.
“Okay, true for some,” Lekya agreed. “But what about Tayrel? He’s still single. Or maybe someone from the older batches? What about Janu?”
Before you could voice your disgust, Kar’ek let out a loud, dramatic groan, slapping his forehead with a broad leaf. “Oh, by Eywa's grace, stop it! Please! You two are giving me a headache with these horrific suggestions.” He sat up, glaring at Lekya and Reti like they had lost their minds. “Why are you two suggesting so many names when there is a very obvious one right in front of her face?”
Your glanced up at him with furrowed brows, accidentally bending a fiber completely out of shape. “My face?”
Kar’ek rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. “Girl, you’re blind,” he said before leaning in. “Neteyam!” he whisper-shouted.
“Oh...” Lekya’s face brightened. “But he’s... I mean, the council—”
“The council can eat dirt,” Kar’ek interrupted shamelessly, waving his hand dismissively. He turned his full attention to you, his eyes glittering with pure gossip-fueled joy. “Y/N, darling, look at me. Put that plant down.”
You slowly raised your head, keeping your face as blank as possible, though your ears were burning hot against your hair. “Neteyam is my brother's best friend. He is an extension of my family.”
“Honey, if my brother’s friend looked at me the way Neteyam looks at you, I would be pregnant by the next eclipse,” Kar’ek said flatly.
“Kar'ek!” you hissed, your face flushing a violent violet.
“I am serious!” Kar’ek leaned in, his voice dropping into an intense, dramatic whisper. “I am an observer of men, Y/N. It is my spiritual calling. And I am telling you, he is crazy about you. Utterly ruined by you.”
You shook your head, “You are crazy. That’s not possible,” you said. “He teases everyone."
“Oh, please. Remember when you accidentally dropped your dagger into the communal fire? Who burned his hand pulling it out before the blade gets ruined? Neteyam. And what about the time during the rainy season when your kelku’s roof had that massive tear? Your father was away on clan business and your brother on patrol, and suddenly Neteyam shows up with three layers of fresh thatch, claiming they ‘had extra’ and he just happened to be passing by. He spent four hours in a downpour fixing it, looking like a drowned, miserable banshee, just so you wouldn't get cold!”
“Shut up, Kar'ek,” you mumbled, your voice entirely stripped of its usual icy armor. You stared down at the messy, tangled weaving in your lap, knowing that the flutter in your chest wasn't from anger or defense.
“Oh, I am not shutting up, because you need to hear the rest of this,” Kar’ek insisted, practically vibrating with excitement as he leaned even closer, gesturing wildly with his hands. xLekya, Reti, back me up on this. We are making a list because this girl is living in a complete state of delusion.”
“Alright,” Reti agreed instantly, abandoning her fern leaf. “I remember that time when your mount got that nasty deep scratch from a nightwraith attack during patrol and he stayed up for two full nights helping you by gathering the herbs in the high cliffs, grinding the soothing paste and applying it on your ikran? At least, the healers got their sleep, but Neteyam definitely didn’t.”
Your lips twisted when you remembered. You were so scared for your ikran then, panicking and crying, but he took care of everything. He didn’t even like herbs, you thought. Nobody likes herbs but the healers... But he still took care of it.
“And he beat Kutri into a pulp at the Great Feast because of you,” Lekya said with a dreamy look on her face.
“Exactly!” Kar’ek clapped his hands together triumphantly. “The man is the future leader of our people, completely disciplined and perfect, until someone breathes too loud in your direction.”
You huffed a breath through your nose. Your chest was heaving, your skin tingling with a sudden, overwhelming rush of warmth. Kar’ek’s words were too overwhelming, painting a picture you had spent years denying. Neteyam... likes you. No, according to Kar’ek, he was entirely consumed by you.
“You have him on a leash, Y/N. You just refuse to pull it,” Kar’ek added, leaning back with a smug grin.
At the same time, Neteyam was standing in the heavy atmosphere of the council as the elders discussed how to maintain the strategic alliance with the Aranahe clan, casually receiving strays from elders who couldn’t undetermined his decision.
“The Aranahe look to solidify our treaties,” one of the senior elders spoke up, leaning forward. “Their Olo'eyktan has always expressed a desire for a match. Ateya isn’t his only child. His eldest son, a fierce hunter, is also open to find a mate from our finest bloodlines.”
Jake Sully sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “My daughter, Kiri, has no mind for things like this, Elder.”
“It needed not be Kiri, Jake,” the elder replied smoothly. He turned his gaze slowly across the circle, letting it rest squarely on your father. “Levakan... your daughter, Y/N. She has just come of age. She is fit to be paired with an Olo'eyktan’s heir. Proud, brave, beautiful, and strong.”
Across the room, Neteyam froze.
Every ounce of air left his lungs. His ears instantly pinned back flat against his head, his tail lashing behind him with a sudden, violent twitch. His golden eyes locked onto the elder with a glare so fiercely lethal it could have pierced through armor. How dare he suggest handing you over to an outsider?
Neteyam’s eyes flew to your father, his heart hammering in a frantic, terrifying panic. He waited for Levakan to refuse. He waited for him to protect his daughter from being shipped off to another clan.
Instead, your father remained perfectly calm. He tilted his head, pretending to weigh the option with a thoughtful expression.
“My daughter is dutiful, Elder,” your father said, his voice loud and clear. “She understands the weight of our family’s standing. I will talk to her and see what I can do, if she is open to it.”
Neteyam’s face completely crumpled, a suffocating pain twisting in his chest. His fist clenched so hard his wrapped knuckles turned white.
If she is open to it.
Neteyam remembered the night on the branch, your soft laughter, and the way you had scowled and said you liked none of the men in this clan because they all got on your nerves. A sickening wave of dread washed over him. If you hated all the boys here... that would mean you were open to choosing a man from the outside?
From across the fire, Levakan caught the look of utter, desperate panic written across Neteyam’s face. Your father hid a satisfied smirk behind his cup, knowing the game had officially begun, and Neteyam finally knew he couldn't afford to wait in the shadows any longer.
It’s not like both of you ever asked for a sign from Eywa, but the Great Mother still found it in herself to deliver an entire diplomatic circus to make both of your lives miserable. The Aranahe clan will be making a clan visit for the upcoming feast and the looming threat of the council’s political matchmaking bothered you both endlessly.
For you, the distress manifested as a tight, biting irritation. Every time someone mentioned Ateya’s name, your stomach twisted with something sharp and ugly. For Neteyam, it was a quiet, frantic desperation. He spent days trying to sense if your father had already presented the elder's suggestion about Tuvek, the Aranahe Olo’eyktan's firstborn son, to you, and more terrifyingly, if you actually thought it was a good idea.
When he caught you alone near the ikran ledges one afternoon, he looked entirely too relaxed for someone whose life was being rearranged by a council of old men. You were violently untangling a leather riding strap, your ears pinned back, when a shadow fell over you.
“Careful,” Neteyam’s voice purred. He was leaning casually against a pillar, one ankle crossed over the other, a lazy, infuriatingly handsome smirk playing on his lips. “You keep yanking it like that and you'll snap the hide. Though, I suppose it's impressive how much anger you can pack into such small hands.”
You snapped a sharp gaze on him. He looked like he is sleeping well, even more, like he was having the best days of his life anticipating the Aranahe. Your fingers aggressively knotted the leather, “Go away.”
He didn't take the hint, stepping right into your space until the heat of his chest was brushing your shoulder. He tilted his head, his golden eyes dancing with that familiar, cocky light. “I notice the second-in-command looking like he is in a very good mood these days, almost as if he is as waiting for a huge celebration. Care to share what it is about, sleepyhead?”
The strap snapped in your hands with a sharp crack.
Your head whipped around, your chest heaving with all the suffocating anxiety you’d been drowning in for days. “Perhaps it’s about your mating with Ateya of the Aranahe. Who knows? We could be celebrating that in time with the feast.”
Neteyam’s smirk faltered for a fraction, his eyes narrowing in surprise at the sheer venom in your voice, but he recovered quickly, raising an amused brow. This again. If you didn’t look so mad, he’d think you want to cry.
“Let me worry about that,“ he said, waiting for another reaction.
Which he got when you glared up at him with yours eyes blazing. “Right. So stop asking me about my father when you could ask my brother about whatever. Worry about your own looming bond. Go flash your perfect smiles at Ateya once she arrives, and figure out how to be a dutiful mate to the Aranahe, since you're so excellent at playing the perfect future chief!“
You didn't wait for his response. You turned on your heel and stormed off down the path, your tail lashing violently behind you.
Behind you, Neteyam stood frozen, the broken strap clutched in his hand. The cocky smirk completely vanished from his face. He wanted a reaction, yes, but Great Mother, he only made you angrier than you already were.
Then, the night of the feast arrived.
The central clearing was ablaze with a roaring fire, but to you, the atmosphere felt cold. The Aranahe Olo’eyktan, his mate, and his two children were seated at the high dais alongside Jake and his family. Ateya was intentionally placed right next to Neteyam. From your seat at your family’s own dais, you couldn't even swallow your food. Every time Ateya leaned in to whisper something to him, every time Neteyam offered her a smile, the food in your mouth tasted like ash.
You hated what you were feeling. You wished with everything in you that you could go back to how things used to be, back when you could pretend you were just annoyed by him. But as you watched them, you were confronted with a bitter truth. There was never a time you didn't care. You had always noticed him. For years, you had stubbornly pretended you didn't understand why he did things for you.
Why he would risk to burn his hand to get you your favorite dagger, why he would get out of his way to help you even when you never been kind to him. You had been selfish, rude, and mean, using your sharp tongue as a shield. Looking at Ateya, someone sweet, gentle, and flawlessly poise, you felt a sinking, hollow ache in your chest. She is exactly the kind of woman he deserves.
When the dinner concluded, one of the senior elders brought you over to introduce you to Tuvek. Although you were in no mood for pleasantries, your own courtesy forced you to stay. When Tuvek politely asked about the fermented fruit wine, you forced your voice into a steady rhythm, spending nearly half an hour conversing with him about the local beverages, the traditional food, and the story of the tribe dances.
Yet, your eyes were constantly drifting back across the clearing, tracking Neteyam. You felt two feet small, as if you had been completely skinned and left exposed to the cold wind.
“The steps to the third dance are actually quite complex,” Tuvek was saying, leaning a fraction closer, his eyes fixed intently on your face. “I would be honored if you showed me the footwork, once it comes again, Y/N. A huntress of your skill must move beautifully on the mats.”
“She moves beautifully, alright,” A low, smooth purr chimed in and you nearly jumped out of your skin.
You turned to hjm with a sharp glare, your eyes tracking Ateya a few paces away, standing alone in the crowd; but when she saw you glance at her, she started moving. You snapped your gaze back to Neteyam and saw him flashing a sharp, dazzling smile at Tuvek, though his golden eyes remained completely cold, tracking the man like a target.
“Assuming you don't mind getting your toes flattened. Our fiercest huntress tends to dance exactly how she hunts. Zero mercy and absolutely no regard for those trying to keep up with her.”
Your jaw nearly dropped. You snapped your gaze to him, your ears pinning back instantly. You were just about to hiss a lethal retort when a soft, melodic voice cut through the tension.
“There you are, Neteyam,” Ateya said, smoothly gliding into the circle. She offered a polite nod to you and Tuvek. “You disappeared so suddenly. I was worried you had grown bored of my company, but I am glad you’ve already introduced yourself to my brother.”
Neteyam smiled at her, “Of course, Ateya.”
You felt a sharp, ugly coil in your chest, but you quickly masked it when Ateya glances at you.
She looked at Neteyam again. “Though, I wonder if it would be rude if I steal you away for a more private conversation,” she said.
A sweet smile cut across your face as you turned your full attention to Ateya, completely ignoring Neteyam as if he were nothing more than an inconveniently placed rock.
“Oh, do not worry, Ateya,” you said. “Neteyam is simply doing what he does best: inserting himself where he isn't invited. He is very eager to come with you.”
You pushed him subtly. Tuvek blinked, looking between you two, while Ateya’s brow furrowed in mild confusion. Neteyam, however, didn't look offended at all. Instead, his smirk widened, his golden eyes dancing with absolute delight as he leaned closer to you.
“Is that what I'm doing?” Neteyam asked, his tone laced with a lazy, teasing challenge. “I thought I was just protecting our esteemed guest from a dangerous dance partner.”
“Oh, please. The only danger here is your terrible habit of sleepwalking,” you said, turning to Ateya. “You must be patient with him, that habit could triggered by too much wine. Just last moon, his family had to drag him back because he tried to climb down the Hometree in his sleep, said he was chasing a viperwolf.”
Tuvek chuckled, thoroughly baffled by the image of the stoic Neteyam sleep-hunting. Ateya looked at Neteyam with a confused smile, while the man stared at you, entirely captivated by how fiercely you were trying to embarrass him.
“Is that right?” Neteyam asked. “I don't remember chasing a viperwolf, sleepyhead.”
“Of course you don't, you were asleep,” you shot back smoothly, turning back to Ateya with a pitying shake of your head. "It's tragic, really. He also snores like a dying banshee when it rains. It's a miracle his family gets any rest at all. I only tell you this so you know what you are getting into, should he ever be left without a mouth guard during a monsoon.”
Ateya looked genuinely startled by your bluntness, her eyes darting to Neteyam to see if his pride would flare. “Oh... I see,” she offered softly, trying to find her footing in the conversation. “I suppose everyone has their... quirks.”
“Oh, he is full of them,” you replied instantly, your smile tightening.
“Hm,” Neteyam huffed a laugh, stepping even closer into your space, completely unfazed by your trashing. If anything, your desperate attempt to ruin his reputation seemed to intoxicate him. He tilted his head, his voice dropping into a low, private purr meant only for you. “You seem to know an awful lot about my nighttime habits. One might think you spend your evenings watching over me.”
“Oh, no, it’s the talk of the village,” you waved a dismissive hand and rolled your eyes.
Just in time, the rhythm for the dance Tuvek was talking about sounded and Tuvek glances at you. “There’s the dance.”
You smiled. "I’ll honor you." You gave Tuvek your hand, and he accepted it with a polite, sweeping bow, guiding you onto the crowded dance floor.
As you moved with Tuvek, matching the rhythmic thrum of the drums, the adrenaline from your bickering with Neteyam began to bleed away, leaving behind a hollow ache of the previous days. Tuvek was a perfectly fine partner, his movements were precise, his manner exceptionally polite, but you felt entirely disconnected from your own body. You felt two feet small again, a fraud hiding behind a confident huntress.
During a synchronized turn, your eyes drifted toward the council’s dais. You caught the line of vision of several senior elders and how they were all watching Neteyam and Ateya in approval. You followed their gaze and saw Ateya who had a dreamy, captivated look on her face, her eyes fixed entirely on him as she spoke about something.
Your eyes slid to the figure beside her, your heart jumping to your throat when you saw him watching you with an intense focus. You swiftly looked away, pretending to enjoy the rhythm.
The moment the music swelled to a finish, you offered Tuvek a nod. “It was a great pleasure to be in your company, Tuvek, but you must forgive me. I want to excuse myself.”
Before he could offer to accompany you, you practically fled, slipping past the dancing bodies. You jumped a few branches down until you are out in the comfort of the surrounding forest. The heavy beat of the drums faded, replaced by the sharp cracks of leaves under your soles. But you barely had time to draw a ragged breath before the distinct, deliberate sound of footsteps echoed behind you.
You spun around, your arms instantly crossing tightly over your chest in defense. Through the glowing blue and magenta bioluminescence, you saw Neteyam tracking you, his long strides steady and unrelenting.
“Leave me alone,” you hissed, your voice clipping with vulnerability.
“No,” Neteyam said. As he stepped fully into the pale light of a glowing fern, your breath caught. He looked angry. It was a hard, clenching tight line of his jaw. A dangerous, fierce expression you had never once seen him direct at you.
Your eyes narrowed as you focused on him, your own temper flaring to mask the sudden sting of tears. “Are you angry?”
“I suppose I am,” he said, his voice a low, rough vibration.
“At me?” you asked, a bitter, defensive laugh bubbling up in your throat. Your chin lifted defiantly. “Mad at me for what? Because I disparaged your pristine image to your precious Ateya? Oh, don't worry, Neteyam, I don't think she cares at all! She was still looking at you with heart-shaped eyes the entire night!”
“You think I care about her?” Neteyam stepped sharply into your space, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his golden eyes blazing. “I couldn't care less what she thinks of me! But I certainly cared about watching you hand your palm over to her brother! I cared about watching him lean into your face, talking about how 'beautifully' you move!”
“He was just being polite!” you yelled, your voice cracking as the sheer pressure of the past week finally broke through your defenses. “And you should, too, I saw the council. They approved of you two—”
“I don't want Ateya!” Neteyam roared, grabbing your upper arms, his grip firm, unyielding, but entirely careful not to hurt you. “And I don't want you anywhere near him! It was driving me insane, Y/N. Watching him touch you, watching you smile at him, and knowing you’re somehow mad at me again for only Eywa knows what. Because unlike him, I can’t seem to do anything right by you!”
Your chest heaved. Your inner lip was caught between your teeth as a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion hit you. His words felt like a direct proof of the thoughts you had just harbored at the feast. He had shown you nothing but absolute, relentless kindness his entire life, and you had paid him back in nothing coldness and meanness.
You swallowed hard, quickly turning your head to hide the hot tears that were suddenly pooling in your eyes. But you weren't fast enough. Neteyam took a sharp, panicked breath the moment he saw the glint of moisture on your cheek.
“Fuck. Are you crying?” he rushed out, his long strides instantly eating away the remaining space between you. The anger was completely gone, replaced by pure panic. “I didn't mean for it to come across that way. Shit. I'm so sorry I said that. Please don't cry.”
You shook your head, the hot tears finally spilling over and tracking down your face. Before you could pull away, his large hands came up, firmly but gently grasping your upper arms to steady you.
“No? Then what is it? Was it Tuvek?” his body went instantly rigid, his ears flattening as a dangerous, protective growl vibrated in his throat. “Did he say something to you?”
“No,” you sniffled, your own hands automatically coming up to grip his forearms, feeling the hard, steady muscle beneath his skin. “You were right, Neteyam. You can't do anything right by me, but you are not to blame for that. I am. I am so mean to you. So needlessly cruel and defensive at times, when all you've ever wanted to do was help me, and protect me, and I—”
“Hey. Shh,” he hushed you softly, pulling you forward and wrapping his massive, warm arms around your trembling frame and tucking your head securely against his chest. “What are you even saying? You could never do anything to me that I do not let you do. Don’t think of me as some victim.”
“That’s the exact problem,” you mumbled against his bare chest, your voice muffled but fierce. “You are such an idiot. You would literally allow me to impale you with a hunter's spear if I told you I wanted to.”
A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated against your cheek. Neteyam squeezed you a little tighter, his chin resting against the top of your head. “I definitely would,” he whispered quietly.
A profound, heavy silence fell over you both. Neteyam slowly pulled back just enough to look down at your face, his golden eyes filled with a softness that made your knees weak as he traced the glowing pattern of your bioluminescent freckles—the stars he saw every single time he closed his eyes.
“You like me...” you mumbled, the words feeling like a sacred, forbidden secret leaving your lips.
“Like?” Neteyam echoed, a small, breathless smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe... when I was a boy.” His gaze darkened, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “But I am a man grown now. And my feelings grew out of the 'like' territory a very long time ago.”
You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to process the intensity in his eyes. Remembering the scandalous, late-night gossip sessions with Kar'ek and the girls, you blinked up at him innocently. “You... you lust for me?”
Neteyam snorted, a sharp burst of genuine laughter barking from his chest. His large frame shook against yours, his white teeth flashing in the dark. Your lips twisted into a pout, your face thoroughly confused, but a spark of warmth bloomed in your gut just watching his unbridled joy.
“I do,” he admitted freely, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze dropped to your mouth for a heavy, lingering second. “I definitely do. But what I mean is... I love you. I am completely, entirely in love with you. I have been for years, Y/N. There is no one else. There never has been. And never will be.”
You looked up at him, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs you were certain he could hear it. You tried as hard as you could to hide the massive smile tugging at your lips, burying your face slightly back into his chest. “You are an idiot...” you mumbled.
Neteyam let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his ears pinning back in absolute, staggering relief. He didn’t back down. Instead, his hand slid up to the back of your neck, his long fingers tangling gently into your hair as he tilted your face up, demanding your full attention.
“For being crazy over and falling in love with the clan’s fiercest, most stubborn huntress?” he asked, his voice dropping to a rough, intense whisper. “Perhaps I am. I am a massive idiot.”
You playfully glared at him, your hand tracing the curve of his arm. But the vulnerability rushed back, and your gaze lowered to his chest, your forehead creasing as your lower lip gave a small, telling tremble. “I got... so jealous of Ateya tonight. I was so jealous, Neteyam, I wanted to cry during dinner.” You looked up, your eyes wide and searching. “ think she would do well. She seems like a good woman, a good huntress... and an even better weaver, from what everyone says.”
A deeply humored, incredibly smug look washed over his features, a familiar, cocky smirk returning to his lips. “Do well with what?”
“With you,” you said, poking his chest sharply.
His head tilted, his thumb caressing your jawline. “I rejected the match with her for years because I wanted someone else,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “And now this someone else is crying because she thinks I’ll ever look at another woman and forget the only one I’ve ever wanted.”
Your lips twisted. “I am not good to you,” you repeated softly.
Neteyam squeezed your hand, bringing his face so close your noses brushed. “I don’t care. I love you. And I don’t care if you don’t feel the same right now,” he said with an absolute, unyielding intensity. “I only wish for your happiness. So whatever it takes, I will do it. I will take whatever fire or ice you throw my way.”
“Me, too,” you whispered.
Neteyam froze, his eyes widening a fraction. “You do?”
Your eyes went wide as you realized what you had just admitted, your heart leaping into your throat. “I—I mean, I want you to be happy, too!” you stammered, biting your lip as your gaze helplessly dropped to his mouth.
Unable to resist the pull any longer, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a quick, desperate kiss to his lips. You tried to step back in a hurry, your old defensive instincts flaring, but Neteyam’s arm tightened like steel around your waist. He pulled you flush against his body, his other hand gathering your braids to hold your head steady as he tilted your face up and kissed you properly.
He kissed you deep, hard, and possessive, molding his lips to yours with all the pent-up hunger of a man who had waited a lifetime. A soft, breathless moan escaped your throat against his mouth, your fingers gripping tightly into the muscles of his shoulders. It felt good. Shockingly, terrifyingly good.
He finally pulled away just enough to let you breathe, his lips trailing hot, damp paths down your jawline while his large hand cupped your cheek. You angled your head, desperate to kiss him again, but the sudden, distinct rustle of heavy footsteps nearby cut through the haze.
You moved away from him faster than lightning, your heart leaping into your throat. You started walking back toward the clearing like a startled yerik caught in a hunter's sights, only to freeze when you spotted Sak'nur walking down the path not a few paces away.
“There you are,” Sak'nur said, stopping. “Father told me to find you. What are you doing out—” He broke off, his forehead creasing deeply as his eyes slid behind you. “Neteyam?”
Your entire frame jolted. You quickly crossed your arms over your chest. “We ran past each other near the clearing,“ you lied smoothly, your voice barely trembling. “... I was only out for some cold air and alone time.”
“And Neteyam?” your brother asked, his sharp eyes darting suspiciously between the two of you.
You turned to look at Neteyam, seeing that he still looked completely stupefied, his ears twitching as he pointed a thumb vaguely behind himself, his lips opening and closing as if his verbals skills had entirely failed him.
“He was out to make sure there are no dangers in the vicinity,” you covered for him, stepping closer to your brother. “What does father want?”
Sak'nur stared at you, clearly unsatisfied with the answers but unable to pinpoint why. “He wants to speak with you about an important matter, apparently.”
“Alright, I'm going,” you said, offering a tight smile before turning back toward Hometree.
The two warriors followed you back to the communal clearing. You walked up to your father, who immediately drew you aside to a quieter corner of the clearing, away from the roaring heat of the central fire.
“Daughter,” your father began, his voice dropping into the low tone he used when speaking of clan matters. “The elders have spoken with me. They believe a pairing between you and Tuvek would secure a vital line of trust between our hunters. He is a formidable warrior, and his father is a powerful ally.”
You stood before him, but you could hardly think straight. Your skin was still flushed and your lips were practically burning, still tingling from the possessive pressure of Neteyam's mouth. The contrast between your father's political gravity and the wild, illicit heat flooding your veins was dizzying. You had absolutely no intention of entertaining a single word of what the council wanted.
“He seems like a good man, Father,” you said, forcing your voice to sound entirely detached, though your heart was still hammering against your ribs. “But I have no interest in him. Or his clan's alliances.”
Your father nodded, taking a slow sip from his cup. “He is an Olo'eyktan's firstborn son, daughter. It is a match of great honor. Are you telling me your heart is already occupied elsewhere?”
Your breath hitched, but you quickly locked your jaw, “Father, I am not interested in being a wife at this age, to be honest. I want to... sharpen my skills, so to say. But if the elders want an alliance, we have other huntresses from good lineage they can trade.”
Your father hid another slow satisfied smirk behind his cup. He had seen the way Neteyam had practically bolted out of the clearing after you, and he could see the telltale flush on your cheeks now. If the fact that you’re both singing the same tune isn’t enough proof.
“Very well,” he murmured evenly, tapping your shoulder. “I will tell the elders you wish to weigh the gravity of the decision first, but we won’t speak of this again.”
Across the room, Neteyam was standing with Sak'nur, feigning interest in whatever your brother is saying, but his golden eyes were locked onto you. He watched your expression, knowing how dutiful you were to your family, silently praying that just this once, you would listen to nothing but your own heart.
The moment he saw you walk away from your father, Neteyam set his bowl of brew down and patted Sak'nur on the back. His eyes met yours from across the crowded, firelit room, and he gave a subtle jerk of his head toward the outer branches. You gave a barely perceptible nod, slipping out of the feast once more.
As you walked along the high pathway of the outer branches, a large, warm hand wrapped firmly around your elbow, gently pulling you back into the darkness of a massive trunk.
“Your father...?” Neteyam began, his voice tight with anxiety.
Your lips twisted as you tried to stifle a massive smile. “He told me about an arrangement with Tuvek,” you murmured, watching his grip tighten on your arm. “I told him I am not interested.”
Neteyam let out a long, shuddering huff of relief. You smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tiptoeing to press your lips to his. He kissed you back instantly, a soft, purring rumble in his chest. “Good,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Good.”
You smiled against his lips, pulling back slightly. “Listen,” you whispered, your expression turning serious. “I don't want to hide this... but I don't know how to tell my brother. Or my father. Or anyone, for that matter. Do you understand?”
Neteyam looked deep into your eyes, his gaze overflowing with tenderness. “I'm not complaining,” he smiled, leaning down to press another soft kiss to your lips. “We’ll do whatever you want. At your pace, baby.”
“Y/N?”
You jumped away from Neteyam instantly, spinning toward the entryway of the clearing to see Kar’ek standing there. His sharp eyes immediately narrowed into suspicious slits as he watched Neteyam stepping back into the shadows.
“Kar'ek,” you greeted, trying to sound breathless from walking, not kissing.
“We were just looking for you. It is time for the dancing!” Kar’ek said, dynamically swaying his hips to the distant rhythm of the drums.
“Right! I'll be there with you guys soon,” you grinned.
“Oh-kay...” Kar’ek dragged out, his eyes narrowing further as a massive, knowing smirk spread across his face. He shot a heavily loaded look toward Neteyam's shadow before turning on his heel and sauntering away.
That night was only the beginning. What followed was a succession of secret, thrilling rendezvous that left your heart permanently racing. You two were practically compiling your own list of offenses: like hiding beneath the massive roots of Hometree, your muffled giggles pressed against his chest while a hunting patrol walked mere paces away; the midnight flights on your ikrans to the highest, mist-shrouded cliffs just to share a single, stolen blanket from Tuk to take a nap; the hidden moments behind the weapon racks where he would boldly press you against the wood as he kisses you, his hand anchoring your hip while your brother is looking for him in the training grounds; and the quiet dawn swims in the river, washing the dirt from your skin while his hands mapped the curves of your body beneath the water.
You felt like you were living out one of Kar’ek’s scandalous escapades, and you couldn't help but laugh out loud whenever you recounted your friend's wild gossip to Neteyam during your hidden hours.
“Who exactly are these anonymous hunters?” Neteyam asked one afternoon, sounding thoroughly scandalized but chuckling warmly as he adjusted you comfortably on his lap. You were hidden deep within the hollow of an ancient tree.
“I won’t give any names,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “But let’s just say he is definitely not running out of boys to play with.”
“May Eywa give those poor boys strength,” Neteyam laughed, his chest rumbled against your back. “The same way she giveas me strength...”
You smirked, shifting your weight and swinging your legs over his thighs to straddle his lap completely. “I think there is a very low supply...” you whispered, cupping his strong jaw and leaning down to press a deep, teasing kiss to his lips.
Neteyam let out a low groan, his hands immediately finding your hips. You pulled away just an inch, chuckling softly against his skin.
“See? Low supply.”
“You are entirely unfair,” he growled playfully. His large hand came up, clamping firmly around the nape of your neck to pull you down into a deeper, far more breathless kiss. His other hand caressed your waist up to your breast, fondling gently. You smiled against his lips, grinding your hips against him as the heat between you flared.
In the succeeding weeks, the atmosphere in the communal gathering was heavy with an entirely different kind of tension. Gossips from the younger bunch spread after the elders discussed the latest news from the upper branches: a young, unmated woman had been discovered to be carrying a child, and her lover was a hunter from an outside clan.
Apparently, the two had been sneaking out for moons without anyone knowing.
Instantly, a wave of territorial protectiveness rippled through the Omatikaya men. They thought it an offense that the hunter should do it that way when he could have courted the woman. Your brother, on the other hand, knowing how many of the young hunters harbored quiet infatuations with you, issued a cryptic, booming warning to the circle.
“If any man thinks he can disrespect my sister in the dark, sneaking around behind my back,” Sak’nur growled, his eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk, “he will lose a hand before he ever sees the dawn.”
A sudden, nervous silence fell over the younger hunters. Several of them shifted uncomfortably, their faces tightening with guilt that they looked as if they were the ones actively sneaking out with you. You couldn't help but look across the fire, your eyes instantly landing on Neteyam and finding that wasn't sweating at all.
In fact, he had a deeply humored, incredibly cocky smirk playing on his lips as he raised a single, challenging eyebrow at you. Your lips twisted, and you aggressively rolled your eyes at him, though your heart gave a violent, uncontrollable flutter against your ribs.
Later that afternoon, the heat of the day had finally begun to break. You had just finished instructing a group of younger hunters in advanced archery, watching them disperse before turning back to the targets to hone your own marksmanship. You drew an arrow back, the tension of the bowstring resting against your cheek, when the distinct, soft crunch of footsteps sounded behind you.
You let the arrow fly, hitting the exact center of the target with a sharp sound, and smiled before you even turned around.
Neteyam stepped into your space, his large hand instantly snaking around your waist from behind, pulling your back flush against his chest. He lowered his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder.
“Not done yet?” he murmured, his fingers giving your waist a firm, possessive squeeze.
“Done,“ you said, unstringing the bow. "I was just practicing my aim."
"So modest, my baby..." he scoffed softly, a lopsided smirk gracing his lips as he took the bow from your hands and set it aside against the weapon rack. "As if she weren't already one of the finest marksmen this clan has ever seen. Come on. I’ll meet you up at the roost."
Your lips twisted into a small smile. You gathered your things and climbed the rocky, winding paths up to the high ikran ledges, arriving just a few minutes before him. By the time Neteyam walked up, his own saddle in hand, the sky had already begun to bleed into a bruised violet, the forest below waking up with its first faint glimmers of bioluminescence.
You both mounted and took to the sky, diving off the cliff into the open, cool air. Up in the darkening heavens, the weight of the clan entirely disappeared. You raced each other, your ikrans dipping and diving, their wings nearly brushing as you performed dizzying aerial maneuvers, laughing like children as you pushed each other higher into the clouds.
Eventually, the sky turned darker, and you guided your ikran down onto a secluded, floating mountain, a mossy grotto you both had claimed as your own secret sanctuary.
The moment your ikrans found their footing on the stone, you slid off your mount and threw yourself into Neteyam's arms. He caught you seamlessly, his large hands immediately locking around your waist to pull you flush against him. Your head was thrown back as he captured your lips, kissing you with a fierce, burning intensity that left you utterly breathless.
Your arms found purchase around his broad, powerful shoulders, matching the desperate hunger of his mouth as he slowly guided you down onto the soft, glowing moss of the grotto floor.
You let out a soft chuckle against his lips as his mouth migrated down, trailing hot, damp paths down your jawline and into the sensitive crook of your neck. You caressed his shoulders, your fingers tracing the hard muscle of his back.
"Have you not given what my brother said a single thought?" you asked breathlessly, cradling his head against your neck.
Neteyam reared his head back, looking down at you with a lazy, lopsided smile that made your stomach flip. "I am not afraid of your brother," he murmured, his golden eyes turning dark, yet carrying a sudden, wistful depth. "The only thing I am afraid of... is you waking up one day and deciding you’re completely done with me."
Your forehead creased, your heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his voice. You reached up, cupping his sharp, tattooed jawline with both hands. "That would never happen," you said with absolute emphasis, locking your eyes with his. "I love you, Neteyam. I love you very much."
Neteyam froze. His golden eyes widened a fraction, and then, a brilliant, blinding smile lit up his face, an expression of pure, unadulterated joy you rarely see on his stoic face.
"I love you more, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down to devour your lips in a soft, deeply tender kiss. "I love you so much more."
You looked up at him, smiling at the faint, unshed tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "Isn’t it quite funny?" you chuckled softly, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. "You’ve kissed me everywhere, we've broken every rule... but I haven’t actually told you that I love you until tonight."
Neteyam let out a deep, booming laugh, burying his face back into your neck, hugging you so tightly your ribs ached, peppering your skin with hot kisses. "I should have told you moons ago," you murmured, angling your head to give him better access.
"It doesn't matter," he breathed against your skin, his hands sliding down your body. "You love me now, and that is more than enough for me."
You smiled, pulling him down by his neck for another deep kiss. With a practiced, heavy motion, Neteyam’s long fingers brushed the soft, woven petals of your top away from your chest. His lips trailed a path of fire down your throat, moving lower until you arched your back with a soft gasp, completely offering yourself to him.
He suckled deeply on one breast while his large hand fondled and squeezed the other, his thumb rubbing the sensitive peak until a ragged moan tore from your throat. You let your head fall back against the cool, damp earth, your fingers tangling in the moss as he kissed his way down the flat plane of your stomach.
Neteyam slid down, his hands firmly pressing your thighs apart. You instinctively lifted your hips, allowing him to untie the leather cords of your loincloth, pulling it free from your tail. Once you were fully bare beneath him, he lowered his head between your legs.
His tongue was relentless at licking, sucking, and swirling against your slick center, guided entirely by the needy, desperate sounds leaving your lips. He held your thighs pinned against his shoulders, driving you closer and closer to the edge until your body violently shuddered, a loud cry echoing through the quiet grotto as you came against his mouth.
As the tremors slowly faded, Neteyam rose, kneeling between your parted legs. The pale bioluminescence of the floating mountain washed over him, treating you to a breathtaking view of his heavily muscled frame, his broad chest heaving, his shoulders squared as he untied his own loincloth. His eyes were fixed on you with a dark, predatory intensity. He lowered his upper body down, pinning you beneath his weight as he kissed you again, and you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.
Wanting a change, you prepared to flip your positions, aiming to slide on top of him. With a sudden shift of your hips, you successfully rolled over, though Neteyam definitely helped guide your waist, letting out a low grunt as his back hit the mossy ground.
Your lips twisted into a dark, confident smirk as you straddle him. Reaching down, your fingers wrapped around his large, thick length, looking down at him with heavy, hooded eyes. Neteyam smiled lopsidedly, his hands resting loosely on your hips as he watched you gather your own wetness, deliberately lathering it along the shaft of his cock.
His hips gave an involuntary, desperate buck as a low whimper escaped his throat. You immediately pressed a firm hand against his tense abdomen. "Relax, baby..." you whispered.
In retaliation, his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers bruising your skin. You lined his head up against your velvety lips, slowly brushing the wide, sensitive tip against your wetness, intentionally pleasuring yourself first. Neteyam watched you, completely incapable of closing his eyes even as the sheer pleasure made his jaw clench.
Finally, you guided him to your opening, adjusting the angle of your thighs to accommodate his familiar, staggering girth. You bit your lower lip as the wide head began to slip inside, knowing it would take a conscious effort to take all of him in.
You began to lower yourself down with agonizing slowness. Neteyam’s hands were firm on your waist, keeping you steady, but your own impatience suddenly got the better of you. With a sharp exhale, you sank down in one sudden, heavy motion, completely impaling yourself on him as a loud, ragged cry tore from your throat.
"Shit," Neteyam groaned, his eyes snapping shut as his arms instantly flew up to gather your upper body, holding you tight as you weakly collapsed against his chest like a broken branch hanging to a tree for dear life. "Baby..."
He wrapped his massive arms around you, his hand tilting your chin up so he could kiss you, soothing the sudden, overwhelming fullness. You kissed him back deeply, your walls tightly squeezing and suffocating his girth. You stayed entirely still, kissing and breathing together until your body finally adjusted to him.
Once the ache turned into a thrumming heat, you pushed yourself up, beginning to move rhythmically on top of him. You pushed and pulled, your hips, grinding against his as you anchored one hand firmly against his chest. Neteyam’s hands returned to your waist, guiding your pace as the speed picked up.
Your breathless moans and his deep, guttural groans echoed off the stone walls of the little grotto. In the middle of a heavy upward stroke, Neteyam's thumb found your sensitive nub, rubbing it in perfect sync with your movements. The sudden, intense friction made your entire frame tremble.
“Shit...” you quivered and he applied pressure on your nub.
“Aww...” he mumbled mockingly, his other hand fondling your breast. “You feel so good, baby...”
He was incredibly talkative even in the heat of sex, whispering praise, groaning your name, telling you how good you felt, and you absolutely loved it.
Your internal muscles clamped down hard as a violent wave of completion took over, your body shaking as you came for the second time, hugging his neck tightly while he switched your positions and lay you back on the moss to continued pounding into you. He kissed the sweat-slicked skin of your shoulder as he thrusted, finally let out a low, roaring groan, spilling himself deep inside you.
The sheer exhaustion of the night finally caught up to you, and you passed out cold in his arms and when you finally blinked your eyes open, the cool violet of the night had been replaced by the bright, piercing light. You were still tucked securely against his side, your cheek resting comfortably against his broad chest.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Neteyam whispered, a soft chuckle vibrating against your ear. “I thought we were only staying for a few hours, but then... you slept straight through the night and half the morning.”
You huffed a quiet chuckle, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his chest. “Morning to you, too, handsome,” you mumbled, propping yourself up on one elbow.
Your long braids cascaded beautifully over your shoulders, framing your face in the bright daylight. You watched as Neteyam’s golden eyes instantly dilated at the sight. "I suppose I do love sleeping in," you teased.
"I love you sleeping in, too..." he whispered, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You look so innocent when you're asleep."
You grinned, a wicked light entering your eyes. "And when I’m awake?"
"When awake... you’re my naughty little huntress," he whispered hoarsely, leaning in to playfully nip at your earlobe. "But right now, the naughty is going to have to be reined in. We need to go home. Your family is definitely looking for you by now."
You pouted, shifting your weight. "I’m a big girl, Neteyam. My father won’t care about that anymore. Or... are you suddenly scared of Sak'nur?"
Neteyam scoffed, though a confident smile quickly broke across his face. "I can handle your brother."
You smirked, your hand slowly traveling down the flat plane of his stomach until your fingers wrapped around his length, which was already hardening at your touch. "So then we can definitely stay for one more."
He groaned, allowing you to take control. He sat up, kneeling on the moss and rounding you. On normal days, you would lie on your back, but this morning, you turned your back to him, dropping down onto your hands and knees, arching your spine invitingly.
Neteyam let out a low, guttural growl, his large hands clamping onto your hips. You looked back over your shoulder, catching sight of his chest heaving, his golden eyes blown wide and wild, looking exactly like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. The romance of the previous night was entirely gone, replaced by a wild, frantic, and primal morning coupling that left you both shivering.
By the time you both got ready and mounted your ikrans, it was already midday. You flew back toward Hometree, racing each other through the canopy and laughing like idiots, but the moment you neared the high roost, the laughter died in your throat.
Standing right at the edge of the ledge, arms crossed tightly over his chest, was Sak'nur.
You weren't necessarily scared of being found out, but the timing couldn't have been worse. The moment your ikran’s feet touched the branches, you slid off, quickly stepping in front of your brother and pressing a firm hand against his chest to force him back.
Sak'nur looked absolutely murderous, his eyes locked entirely on Neteyam, who landed smoothly a second later and descended from his saddle with a calm, steady grace.
“Were you with my sister the entire night? She didn’t come home,” Sak’nur demanded, his voice a low, lethal growl.
“Sak’nur, stop,” you pleaded, shoving against his chest.
"I was," Neteyam answered simply, his golden eyes unblinking as he stepped forward.
"Motherfucker," Sak’nur hissed, pouncing forward. You threw your entire weight into your brother to hold him back, but he was far too strong. He overpowered you, shoving you aside to get to his target.
Neteyam’s eyes widened at the sight of you being pushed. "Fucker!" he hissed, all restraint vanishing as he launched himself at your brother.
The two of them collided heavily, grappling and tearing into each other, throwing raw, heavy punches that echoed through the trees. They were fighting like you had never seen them fight before. Two elite warriors tearing the ground apart out of sheer, blinding rage.
"Fuck you, asshole!" Sak’nur roared, catching Neteyam by the throat and slamming him against a mossy root. "Out of all the men here who would go behind my back and disrespect my sister, I didn’t think it would be you! You sneak around in the dark like a coward! Are you toying with her?!"
Neteyam threw a vicious elbow, breaking Sak’nur’s grip and forcing him back a step. His chest was heaving, his face smeared with dirt and sweat, but his eyes were blazing with absolute, unyielding conviction.
"I am not toying with her!" Neteyam shouted back, his voice tearing raw. "I have loved Y/N my entire life! I’ve never been with anyone else, not a single soul, because of her! I love her more than my own breath, Sak’nur! And I knew that if she ever showed me even just a single drop of love, not even our friendship would be enough to keep me away from her!"
Neteyam wiped a smear of blood from his lip, stepping right back into Sak’nur’s face.
"And she does. She loves me. So I can't stay away, and I won't. I intend to mate with her before Eywa. I intend to make her my wife!"
Sak’nur stared at him, his ears pinning back in a mix of fury and sheer, stunned disbelief. "Make her your wife?! You say you honor her, yet you disrespect her by sneaking her out into the jungle for only Eywa knows what?!"
"I am a grown woman, Sak’nur!" you screamed, your chest heaving as you glared fiercely at your brother. "It is not your business where I go, or who I choose to lay with!"
Sak’nur looked at you, his chest rising and falling heavily, the protective fury in his eyes still burning but slightly wavering under your fierce defense.
Neteyam stepped up right behind you, his large hand coming down to rest firmly on your shoulder, anchoring you to his side. He looked at your brother, the raw anger in his face softening into something deeply earnest, yet entirely uncompromising.
"Sak'nur, look at me," Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a steady, intense rhythm. "What Y/N and I have... it is entirely separate from the brotherhood between us. You are my best friend. You are my brother in arms. But your sister and I... We love each other. I love her with everything I am, and nothing is going to change that. Not even you."
Your brother grappled with him again, they punched and tore into each other like wild animals. It was a brutal, bloody spectacle, but to your absolute, utter confusion, the raw violence slowly devolved into heavy panting, and then... a sharp burst of laughter.
You stood there, your jaw practically dropping as you watched them lie on the ground, bloody-faced and bruising, laughing like two boys who had just finished a friendly sparring match.
"Brother," Neteyam began, wiping a smear of blood from his lip as he sat up. "I do not mean to go behind your back... but like I said, what I have with Y/N is ours alone. No one knew about it until now. We were keeping it low... but I won’t apologize for loving her."
Sak'nur shook his head, a lingering, humored smirk on his face as he accepted Neteyam’s hand to pull himself up. "I don’t expect you to apologize," your brother said, wiping his own nose. "But I still expect you to be a better man. You will court my sister properly now... and the mating will be in a year."
"A year?!" you and Neteyam echoed in unison, your voices cracking.
Sak'nur scoffed, a teasing glint in his eye. "What, not man enough?"
"Fuck you," Neteyam replied smoothly, standing to his full height and casting a wicked, incredibly cocky wink in your direction. "All right. I will do all of that. I wanted to court her openly anyway. I want everybody in this jungle to know exactly who I belong to."
Your brother scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Please. I’m still her brother, and I’m still your best friend. If you don’t want me to kick you in the gut, you'll stop the sweet talk."
Neteyam rolled his eyes, offering him a playful shove. "Whatever."
The three of you walked back down the winding pathways toward your family’s kelku. Every single person you passed stared in utter bewilderment at the two elite, bloody warriors limping and holding their bruised sides. They had beaten each other to an absolute pulp, and it was honestly hilarious to witness.
Your father was standing just outside the entryway of the kelku when he spotted the procession.
"Y/N, where were you?!" he called out before his eyes landed on the two battered men. "Great Mother... what happened to you two?"
Sak'nur merely jerked his head toward Neteyam, a smug grin splitting his bruised face. "This asshole is going to court my sister."
Your father stopped. He looked at you, then at Neteyam's heavily bruised but triumphant face, and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, well. Finally."
"Finally?" Sak'nur echoed, thoroughly confused.
"Son, you are completely blind," your father muttered, throwing a heavy hand over Sak'nur's shoulder and leading him inside the kelku to get treated.
Left alone on the path, you walked up to Neteyam, entirely uncaring of the remaining eyes watching from the clearing. "Oh, baby..." you murmured softly, your fingers gently rising to touch the massive, purpling bruise forming on his sharp cheekbone. He winced slightly at the contact. "Let’s deal with that inside."
"Hmm," Neteyam hummed, a lazy, victorious rumble vibrating in his chest. His large hand snaked around your waist, pulling you tightly against his side before he lowered his head, pressing his lips to yours in a hard, deeply public kiss.
If there had been any remaining questions in the village as to why the future chief and your brother had just beaten each other to a pulp... they definitely had their answer now.
Friends with benefits, but make it with your close friend Sokka. . .
FWB!Sokka. . . who comforts you when you're down. Stroking your back in a soft motion. Telling you to let it all out, because he doesn't want to see you bottling all your feelings. Sokka, who makes the dumbest faces when his best friend suddenly cries at the dead of night, only the two of you awake by the fire, taking you shift as look-out while the others sleep.
FWB!Sokka. . . who fixes all your weapons and little toys, all to see that smile. Even though some inventions may leave an explosion of smoke on top of that pretty face of yours, the giggling fits you have along with the black soot on your cheeks, send him to another level of euphoria.
FWB!Sokka. . . who has your back through thick and thin. Maybe he only has the boomerang on his back, but so what? He’d fight off thieves with a wooden spoon if it meant to protect you—and possibly impress you as well…
FWB!Sokka. . . who quite obviously glares at Zuko every time you go along with the fire lord anywhere alone. And the later complains about how close he was to you while smooching your lips off. Hands scouring around your hips, searching for a grip as his tongue found solace against your own.
༉‧₊˚✧Pairing : FireLord!Zuko // Avatar!Aang // Sokka x Fem!Reader
༉‧₊˚✧ Summary : Yup, I think its pretty obvious what direction this is taking, given the new movie. So here we have some steamy and more intimate details about how Zuko, Aang, and Sokka are in a relationship.
༉‧₊˚✧ WARNING : MDNI
Being with Zuko was never something soft or easy - it was something you survived, something that burned and branded and reshaped you in ways you didn’t notice until it was already too late to turn back.
He had changed, yes. He wasn’t the same angry prince chasing approval anymore. But healing didn’t erase what he had been raised in, it just taught him how to restrain it.
And sometimes, that restraint slipped. Not in cruelty, never that, but in intensity. In the way he felt everything too deeply, too sharply, like every emotion lived right under his skin, ready to ignite.
Loving him meant always being aware of that edge.
He wasn’t unpredictable in the way people feared - he was volatile.
Like fire should be - warm one second, consuming the next.
And somehow, you learned to read it - the subtle shifts in his voice, the tightening of his jaw, the way his golden eyes darkened when something inside him stirred.
Because when Zuko loved, he didn’t do it halfway.
He loved like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world.
Maybe that was part of his nature - he was pure fire - mind, body, and soul. He loved so passionately, so consuming, that it got to the point where you realized you couldn’t be living without him, without his touch.
It was in the way his hands found you - firm, grounding, almost possessive, like he needed to feel that you were real.
Even something small, like brushing your hair behind your ear or cupping your face, carried weight for a man like him. His touch lingered, heavy with meaning, with need.
And his gaze… that was something else entirely.
Zuko looked at you like you were something rare, something dangerous to want,but impossible not to.
His eyes traced every detail of your face like he was memorizing it, like he needed to carve it into his mind in case it was ever taken from him. You were sure that he knew your face better than you'd ever know.
He had a weakness for beauty - there was no denying that. But it wasn’t shallow.
It was obsessive, almost reverent.
Your lips, your expressions, the way your face shifted when you laughed, when you frowned, when you felt - he studied all of it like it mattered more than anything else.
And in private, that intensity only deepened.
Zuko needed closeness - real closeness.
Eye contact, breath mingling, the ability to see every reaction you had to him. He wanted to witness the effect he had on you, to feel it, to know it.
There was something almost desperate in it, always.
When it comes to his taste in women, you figure out that he is more into a pretty face.
That’s what gets him worked up - just taking a glance at your plump lips, the ones that burn so deliciously on top of his when he corners you in your shared bedroom, gets him hard.
He’s a sucker for your pretty face, no matter what.
He’ll have you in missionary for sure, no matter how often, because he gets to see that flushed face you make every time you’re feeling pleasure. Those doe syren eyes glimmering with tears, parted rosy lips, a deep frown between your brows as you moan his name over and over again.
And he gets lost the moment he has it in sight, mouth drooling, skin sizzling as the last crumble of his sanity vanishes.
All he needs is you - your trembling hands on his skin, your sweaty body glued to his, every little sound you make.
Maybe he acts like a predator, not giving its pray the chance to breathe, but that man is still simping over you like a man who got to taste a woman for the first time.
He’ll have his thumb in your mouth, smearing the saliva he just spat in your mouth all over your lips as his tip pounds deep and rough in your warmth, just how you taught him you like.
His eyes are stuck there, on your lips, taking in how you were moaning for him, with his face twisted in pure lust.
“Shh, you’re about to make everyone hear you…” He hisses through his teeth, covering your mouth just as you clenched around him shamelessly.
Yup, that’s how he always was - so possessive that the simple thought of someone hearing you triggered him.
But, sometimes that would change.
Just when you got him mad enough that he got to fuck some sense into you.
Having you face down, ass up as he tests how far he could drill into your cervix before you would squirt under him.
“You’re mine, got it? My pretty fucking thing…My precious…” He grunts in your ear, winning a long whine from you that echoes in the large room, his fingers threatening to leave burn marks because of how hard he was holding you.
“Yours! F-fuck…’M yours!”
Being with Aang felt like learning how to breathe again after spending too long surviving instead of living.
Loving him came naturally - effortlessly, almost frighteningly so.
There were no games, no exhausting guessing, no constant fear of saying the wrong thing.
Everything between you flowed with the same ease as the air currents he bent so gracefully. One day you simply realized he had become part of your life so completely that imagining your days without him felt wrong.
The relationship with him is just like the element he mastered first with such ease - like air.
Falling in love with each other was so natural, it felt like breathing. Everything about this relationship is what you like to describe as impossible perfect. It was like you found the balance to find yourself. Because Aang was like a full mouth of fresh air in a poisonous world.
Aang had that effect on people.
He carried warmth everywhere he went, softening even the darkest rooms with laughter and ridiculous jokes that rarely landed the way he intended.
And somehow, that made them even more charming.
Even as he grew older - stronger, wiser, burdened with responsibilities no one his age should have carried - he never lost that bright spirit that made him feel untouchable in the best way.
He still acted impulsively sometimes. Still got distracted midway through serious conversations, still needed someone to remind him not to skip meals because he got too excited teaching airbending to children or racing sky bison through the clouds.
But that childishness was never immaturity.
It was freedom.
Aang loved life openly, without shame, and being around him slowly taught you to do the same.
And maybe that was why it caught you so off guard when you realized how intense he could be beneath all that sweetness.
Because Aang noticed everything. And when those big eyes got fixed on you, it felt like being watched by a wolf dressed under the skin of an innocent sheep.
Every lingering glance. Every teasing touch. Every tiny thing you did to get a reaction out of him.
And maybe he looked innocent and acted like a fool most of the time, but Aang hid a pretty interesting side of himself when it came to women.
And spirits, was he easy to tease.
For sure, he is an ass guy.
That was clear as the sun on a bright day when his eyes wandered after you when you happened to wear a tighter pair of pants, causing him to almost break his neck.
It's his little pleasure to touch your ass every time he gets to. He would spank it as he walked past by, pinch it when you weren’t looking, or simply affectionately massaging it while you were having a small chat with the others of the squad.
Like it was the most natural thing ever.
You started catching him staring long before he realized he was being obvious about it.
The first time you caught him nearly walking into a doorway because he was too busy watching you, he had the nerve to look offended when you laughed.
“What?” he muttered, ears red. “I was distracted.”
“Clearly.”
From that point on, it became a dangerous little game between the two of you.
Because despite how respectful and gentle he was, Aang was still a young man very much in love - and once you learned exactly what got under his skin, it became almost unfair how easy it was to fluster him.
All you had to do was to brush against him ‘by mistake’ or bend over “to look for something.” In a matter of seconds, cause this is all it takes him to shove you somewhere private, before he’ll have your mind spiraling and his dick shoved messily up inside you.
He likes to have you riding him as he peeks over your shoulder to watch how his hands pull your cheeks apart just to squish them back together as your cunt eagerly swallows him.
“Uhuh….Just like this, baby. Don’t stop….” He hardly huffs under his breath, too focused on your ass to even care that you’re smushed against his hard chest, half-choked on your effort.
“My legs are about to give up…” Is all you manage to moan against his flushed skin, receiving a long moan from him in response.
“Just a few more minutes…I’ll fill you up so good, fuck!” His voice deepens even more if that's even possible, slapping your right cheek then the left one, drinking in how your skin flushed.
And when your legs finally give up, he effortlessly lifts his body still being inside you, still having you in his lap, and he hooks your legs over his arms, basically railing you in the air.
It's his element for the love of God, so it's natural for him to move with ease, angling his hips just perfect to hit all the right spots.
And he doesn't even bother to slip out, too gone in his own pleasure, milking you out until he cums so much, it actually drips out of you.
Being with Sokka was like falling in love in the middle of a storm - loud, chaotic, emotional, and somehow the most alive you had ever felt.
He wasn’t smooth like some charming prince from a romance novel. Spirits, half the time he was tripping over his own words or making jokes at the absolute worst moments imaginable.
But that was exactly what made him so impossible not to love.
Sokka had this way of filling every room he entered, dragging laughter and life behind him like a tidal wave - one moment he had you ready to strangle him because of some smug comment, the next he was making you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. Even during the darkest moments, when exhaustion hung over the group after battles and sleepless nights, he still found a way to make you and everyone else smile.
Sometimes you wondered if he even realized how much of himself he gave to people.
Especially to you.
Because underneath the sarcasm and cocky attitude, Sokka loved with terrifying sincerity.
The two of you fought often - too often, according to everyone else. Half the group had probably witnessed at least one fight that started over something stupid and somehow escalated into a full screaming match before ending with the two of you making up ten minutes later like nothing happened.
Both stubborn, both fiery, both unwilling to back down once emotions got involved. Arguments with him weren’t quiet disagreements; they were passionate, dramatic disasters filled with raised voices, sharp comebacks, and enough tension to make everyone slowly leave the room before things escalated further.
But the thing was...
Sokka cared too much to stay angry for long.
Even during arguments, his attention remained fixed on you. He noticed every frustrated twitch of your mouth, every moment your voice cracked from exhaustion instead of anger. And the second he realized he had genuinely hurt you, everything in him softened immediately.
That was the side of him few people got to see.
The softness hidden beneath the armor.
Because Sokka pretended confidence came naturally to him, but loving you made him vulnerable in ways he wasn’t used to.
Sometimes, late at night when the world finally quieted down, he would hold you against his chest and speak in that low, tired voice he only used when he stopped trying to be funny.
“You know what scares me the most?” he once admitted quietly while tracing circles into your skin. “That one day you’ll wake up and realize I’m too much.”
Too loud. Too emotional. Too reckless. Too human compared to the powerful benders surrounding him.
And spirits, that broke your heart every time.
Becausehe never understood his own worth the way everyone else did.
He didn’t see the way people naturally followed his lead during danger. The way he would throw himself between you and any threat without hesitation. The way his presence alone made you feel safe - not because he was the strongest person in the room, but because he would rather die than let something happen to the people he loved.
Especially you.
And when he loved, he loved openly.
There was nothing subtle about it.
He talked about you constantly, smiled differently around you, touched you whenever he could.
You became his favorite subject without him even realizing it.
“My girlfriend does this...”
“Oh, that reminds me of her...”
“She’d love this.”
A hand at your waist. Fingers brushing your shoulder as he walked past. Pulling you into his lap absentmindedly during long nights around the campfire because apparently being near you was some kind of necessity for him.
And the way he looked at you? Spirits...
Sometimes it genuinely stole the breath from your lungs.
Sokka looked at you like you were the answer to every hard day he had survived.
Like after losing so much throughout his life, he still couldn’t believe he had somehow ended up with you.
Which made his attraction feel almost overwhelming at times. Not shallow, not careless - intense in that deeply emotional way that came from genuine obsession with every part of you.
He adored your body, yes, but it was always tied to you - the warmth of your skin beneath his hands, the sound of your laughter when he teased you too much, the way you melted into his touch after difficult days.
His little weakness was indeed his woman - the one he couldn't stop fantasizing about, the one who knew him best.
Just imagining your pretty face, soft skin, your laugh… how his palms squished your body just how he like it...
That man was smitten so bad, it had to be studied.
His little secrete pleasure was having you wearing a V-neck shirt, maybe one of his, that exposed just a tease of those plush tits. Yeah, he was a sucker for your boobs.
And when he finally got enough of just admiring, he dove in like a mad-driven man.
The once careful and carrying boyfriend turns into a menace.
Pure devil, having you trapped under him, hips pistoning so hard into your sweet spot after he made you squirt three times in a row, sheets drenched under your bodies.
It didn't matter if you moaned, screamed or whine. The problem was if you were too quiet.
"Look at this pretty face…" He would growl under his breath, choking you with both his hands as he had you holding your knees glued to your chest.
"I feel like I'm about to break…" It's all you could whisper, lost in your pleasure, but enough to make him grin like a maniac, pulling back one of his hands just to toy with your flushed nipple.
"Such a sweet thing, from head to toe…" He would groan out loud, head leaning back, not even bothering to listen because he knew how much you loved when he went that rough on you.
--------------------------------------------------
He would genuinely build 5 statues for you, he’s just so I love and he would make an annual holiday for women then proceed to make sure you can’t walk the next day
Stop that’s so cute actually 🥹 sorry if my writing’s a little sloppy, it’s so hot outside and I genuinely can’t think because of the heat 😭
He’s definitely a goofy lover boy, he genuinely just loves you so much that he’d do anything and everything to see your smile.
There’s at least two statues of you in the Southern Water Tribe, one in front of his workshop, and the second in the frozen garden of your home. There’s also a few in Republic City, all very visible so people can admire his woman’s beauty!
While he might not have the artistic abilities to make them himself… he definitely paid a hefty amount to have them commissioned! He really wanted them to be made by a local artist, they just hold much more value to him that way. He’s overseen the process by himself, making sure everything was perfect.
As for the women’s holiday, I feel like he’d definitely be the one to come up with the idea! Seeing how he grew as a man from his… pretty misogynistic kid phase… meeting lots of strong and capable women, like you of course, really made him appreciate women more than ever. Believe me when I say he basically worships the ground you walk on, cause he does! In his eyes, you’re a goddess who deserves only the best, so he makes sure to give you exactly that.
His idea of a women’s annual holiday was definitely met with a lot of backlash, mostly from the older and traditional men, but once it was backed up by Aang — the Avatar himself, and most of the Republic City’s council, it soon became a thing! Zuko liked the idea, too, and made it a thing in the Fire Nation as well, crediting Sokka as the man behind the idea.
The date he’s chosen just so happens to be your birthday.
He celebrates both holidays very thoroughly. Your birthday — from morning till noon, to show you how much he cherishes you as a person and how lucky he is to have you here with him. It’s definitely the most important date in his calendar!
As soon as it grows dark outside, he starts celebrating the woman’s day, and keeps on going for rest of the night. He loves making sure to show you just how much he appreciates you as a woman, too.
The next morning you can barely stand up on your own, let alone walk… but don’t worry! Your sweet man will just carry you anywhere you want and help you with anything you need. He planned it all very carefully…
synopsis you and zuko known each other since childhood, but one day you disappeared without the word. now, after years, he hears you still might be alive and makes it his mission to reconnect with you.
not proofread, please keep in mind that english is not my first language
wc: 1238
masterlist
previous chapter | next chapter
note: im so sorry for the delay, but i literally graduated hs yesterday and well, i gotta socialize a little bit ;)
Zuko felt scared, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He was scared because after all this time, after chasing Avatar for so long, now he wanted to actually join him and his friends. Everyday after coming to this conclusion, his mind was like a war zone. But nowadays he knew what was right and what was his destiny - to help Avatar defeat his own father.
He was thinking too much. How the meeting will go, if they’re going to believe him. And for a moment he really thought it’s going to be easy. Oh how wrong was he..
As Aang with Sokka, Katara and Toph went off Appa, Aang started talking about all the things they could enjoy doing in the Western Air Temple. However his words were quickly interrupted by Toph’s voice.
“I think that’ll have to wait” as she pointed behind Appa.
As they all turned around, their faces were showing definitely signs of confusion. Before them, very awkwardly, stood Zuko.
“Hello. Zuko here” he waved, a little smile appearing on his lips.
And that was all for good things that happened. Because they did not believe him, not even a word. Well, at least he tried right? But he couldn’t just give up, especially after accidentally burning Toph. He still returned to the temple, and actually defeated the assassin he had hired earlier. After whatever chaos happened during the attack, he got a second chance to talk.
“Listen, I know I didn’t explain myself very well yesterday. I’ve been through a lot in the past few years and it’s been hard. But I’m realizing that I have to go through all those things to learn the truth. I thought I had lost my honor and that somehow my father could return it to me. But I know now that no one can give you your honor. It’s something you earn for yourself by choosing to do what’s right. All I want now is to play my part in ending this war. And I know my destiny is to help you restore balance to the world.” hearing those words, Aang’s expression momentarily changed as if he understood him completely. However, Katara stood there furious about all of that. “I’m sorry for what I did to you.” he apologised to Toph, saying how fire can be dangerous and wild. “As a firebender, I need to be more careful and control my bending so I don’t hurt people unintentionally.”
As the last words slipped past Zuko’s lips, Aang was stunned. He felt like he finally saw a person, a true identity after all those moments they shared.
“I think you are supposed to be my firebending teacher” he started, looking at him “When I first tried firebending, I burned Katara. And after that I never wanted to firebend again. But now I know you understand how easy it is to hurt the people you love. Not only that” now he looked at the rest of the gaang. “You remembered that lady? She said that someone else will help me and I feel that she meant Zuko. I’d like you to teach me”
Aang bowed slightly to Zuko as to show respect, the same coming from him. Even though the young Avatar still asked the rest of his friends, Zuko felt like it was victory already. However, what he hadn’t thought about was, what’s going to happen after joining the group.
In the span of a few days he already went with Aang to the Sun Warriors and rediscovered his power alongside the boy with the help of dragons. He helped Sokka in freeing Suki and Sokka’s father Hakoda from the Boiling Rock prison. Oh, and also he was finally accepted by Katara when he located her mother’s killer. Thankfully after all those fiasco, they all stayed on Ember Island. However, what was to come was unexpected to Zuko.
As they were watching a play about all of them, which sucked by the way, Zuko saw something that instantly picked his attention. It was a scene, where Aang and his friends were on unknown land. The young Avatar was talking to this beautiful lady, asking her to teach him firebending. However, the lady refused, saying that some kind of accident happened. As his mind started working on all the power, he knew he had to ask about this.
All of them were finally coming back from the play. As the night was already on full and no one really wanted to talk, Zuko decided that this was his opportunity.
“I wanted to ask about something. The scene where Aang was talking to the firebender that refused to teach him, who was that?”
“Her? It was y/n, during our travels I heard a lot about her, how powerful she was. So I decided to try and ask her to teach me, but as you already know, she refused” Aang responded casually, like it was the most normal information to him. “It’s actually kind of funny, because she said that someone else will teach me firebending and she wasn’t wrong.”
But not to Zuko, no. Because as soon as the boy said that, he stopped dead in his tracks. He tried to say anything, but words just couldn’t come out of his mouth. He stood there so long, the rest of the group finally turned to him. What met them was the face of the man, who just heard that the person he thought was dead - was actually alive.
“What do you mean y/n? Where did you hear that she’s alive?” he asked abruptly.
“He means that we don’t know her entire story line so don’t get your hopes high. Why are you interested anyway? She’s just some random fire bender” Sokka interrupted, not quite understanding what was going on with him.
“Random fire bender? YOU DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT” the voice of Zuko could probably be heard from miles away. “Where is she now?” asked more calmly, not looking at Sokka at the moment.
“Well, we’re not even sure what the land is called. It’s somewhere in the Earth Nation, but it’s a place that war hasn’t reached. Why are you so interested now?” Katara told him softly, feeling like this conversation could lead somewhere.
“Because.. because y/n was someone who showed me nothing but kindness all my life. And as you all probably know, there weren't a lot of people doing that. We were so close as kids, but one day she disappeared” he exhaled, gathering his thoughts in the process. “After that my life went downhill and well, at some point I made myself believe that she was dead and I’ll never see her again. But now you’re telling me she’s actually alive? I don’t know if you will understand, but I need to see her as soon as possible.” his head hung low as the last words were formed.
He felt a hand coming to his shoulder and when he looked up, he saw the protecting expression on Katara’s face. She smiled softly at him like she completely understood him at that moment.
“You don’t need to say anything more, if you want, we can take you there. After whatever we saw today, I believe we need a change in a scenery and believe me - you won’t find any more peaceful place compared to where we’re going to take you."
and that's it for now vampire babies <3
if you enjoyed it please like, repost or/and comment!! see you soon, take care<3
sokka whose jokes will always make you laugh, but what happens when you tell him to prove that he's a 'backbender'? ||| 18+ and nsfw!
warn. afab anatomy used, praise kink (character giving), kind of jealousy at first, reader is fem, breeding kink
sokka finds ways to make jokes out of anything, it could be the insane timing of a person, or even the clouds are enough to pave the way for another one of his cheesy dad jokes.
recently he’s been on the repeated cycle of calling himself a ‘back-bender’ when people ask what his contribution is in team avatar.
it makes you snort, chortle, and chuckle—but some jokes are best kept for a later time; especially when you’re mad and your boyfriend has zero idea on how to fix it.
he didn't mean to make you jealous, he means that with his whole being! why would he ever wanna be with anyone else when he was a partner like you?
he tried to tell them to get off him, he really did. please stop being mad at him.
sokka held you close to himself, whispering different kind of praise into your skin. his arms surrounded your waist, yet you still refused to look at him. your own arms were busy doing what you could to cook for you and him. although you don't know how you'd avoid him for dinner.
"please, m'sorry, i promise i'll never do it again, even you know i didn't mean to offend youuu...."
...
"please??!! this backbender is tired of not being able to see his beauitful girlfriend's face!"
...
"ah ah ah—i see that smile, can't hide that from me." you rolled your eyes as you turned to face him, it's true you were smiling, but even he knew that didn't mean everything was okay. "look, i know i should've done more, and i'm sorry. i never meant to hurt you,"
you rolled your eyes with a grin, "i know, sokka, it's okay..." leaning backwards into his hold, you exhale a sigh of relief. "we good, or you want a better apology?" placing a kiss on your shoulder, his cold hands trail around your waist.
rubbing your sensitive skin to hear you let out such an adorable moan?
a hand was already grasping your waist, his free palm pushing your shoulder down, watching the lovely little bites he marked you with from a night or two ago.
"you want me to prove i can bend your back, huh?"
you could feel your back arch at the way he was deliberately manhandling you; managing out a rough, and ragged ‘yes’ under your breath.
sokka’s hand already started to lower your shorts down your curves, “nice view,” a grin written all over his face. you don’t know how the hell he makes sex funny. keeping a hand on your shoulder, it had you loud from the way he rolled his hips into yours, feeling as though how his abnormally large cock continually dragged against the sensitive gummy walls of your cunt. "please, fuck— is this enough for you to forgive me?"
the sounds that left your mouth were obscene, your head reeling back every now and then, your upper half barely being supported by your elbows that were planted on the countertop. his name—his name falling from your lips was probably all he needed to hear, you know damn fuckin' well that he loved it whenever he got to hear that adorable little mumble about sokka being 't'much' or needing to go deeper.
you could feel him lean in from behind you, feel the way he inhaled how you smelled, placing neat little bites, those pretty blue eyes rolling back from the pleasure.
no matter what argument, after making sure he talked to you, it always ended up with the final bandage over the wound being his thick length buried deep inside you.
it's not even like 'oh he's huge' kind of long, it's the stupidly long kind that makes you wonder whose side of the family its from. the kind that makes you see stars from how easily he can ram his hips into yours.
normally you'd think 'wow this is one of the few times sokka isn't a bit awkward', but the thing is, those small shaky breaths you hear are the very essence of his being. the small whimpers mixed with low groans as he continues to pump his cock in-and-out of you.
"will you accept my apology, huh? my cock good enough for you or what, baby?" he's so big inside you, you swear it starts to burn, burning in the best way possible on how good he manages to stretch you out. sokka thinks that's another advantage of having a huge dick; no one else can fuck you nice and hard like this.
you could feel heat pool at the lower part of your stomach, your chest tightens the same way your walls would around his cock, "shit, y'close already?"
the same way his ego would raise a little, his cock would htrob inside you too, kissing your neck momentarily before renewing the grasp he had on you, "support your body up here for me, yeah?"
now both his palms were stuck on your waist, despite the small layer of sweat that covered your body, his hold remained firm,
you did as he said, holding your breath subconsciously when he started his pace again, "oh my god—i'm actually gonna breed you, i'm actually gonna fucking breed you." he manages out as a pant, watching your ass jiggle as he bounced you up and down onto his length. a clear milky ring surrounding the base of his cock,
"shit—sokka, fill me, p- please," you exclaimed under your breath, "fuck, you want me? want my load in you?"
nodding frantically at his rhetorical questions, for a moment, it was more beast than human when he let out a gravelly groan, you could feel the way his come shot up inside you. thick, and long ropes of white pearly liquid inside you, so much can be too much with how 'too much' cum was inside you the way his load couldn't even stay inside.
"just- fuck, take it all... holy shit."
...
“i think thats the hottest you’ve ever been.” — “wha- hey i have my moments!”
pairing aged-up!neteyam x avatar driver-scientist!reader
notes reader is a human avatar driver, captive romance, reverse stockholm syndrome 😭, grumpy neteyam, reader is that captive who is sooo talkative she makes her captors want to free her, smut (p in v, interspecies), oral (f&m receiving)
word count 26.8k
synopsis a botanical expedition with your fellow scientists was supposed to be nothing short of a fun field trip, except that it turned into something entirely unexpected. now, you find yourself held ‘captive’ by the omatikaya. granted, it’s not exactly a brutal imprisonment if you’re enjoying every single minute of it. the only problem is that your enjoyment has become the absolute bane of someone else’s existence—the incredibly grumpy eldest son of toruk makto.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The helicopter’s rotors beat a deafening pulse as it lowers itself down the thick rainforest canopy. You couldn’t believe your eyes, even though this wasn’t your first outing. From the point of view of a scholar who had spent her entire academic life studying everything about this world, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you were actually here, studying it firsthand.
As soon as the helicopter touched down with a heavy thud, the two recombinant soldiers you were with jumped out to check the parameters. You unbuckled your harness, stepping out onto the damp, glowing soil and smelling the sweet air but rolling your eyes immediately when your avatar’s heightened sense caught the strong smell of gas from the helicopter behind you. Its rotors were just slowing to a deep thrum that finally allowed you to hear your own voice.
“Look at this,” you looked down at where your boots were sinking slightly into a carpet of bioluminescent moss. “They don’t want to believe Dr. Grace Augustine’s study on how this glowing moss is hardwired to a planet-wide neural network, but that was definitely real.”
Marco unbuckled his harness shortly after, following your lead and stepping out right behind you. “Y/N, please. Let's not start the ’Grace Augustine was an unappreciated prophet’ monologue again,” he groaned, scanning the immediate perimeter nervously. “Her data on the electrochemical transduction between the roots was purely theoretical. The RDA board members back at Bridgehead call it ’tree-hugger mysticism’ for a reason. There’s no hard evidence of a literal collective consciousness.”
“That’s because the RDA board members have the intellectual capacity of a wet sponge, Marco,” you snapped back playfully, already dropping to your knees in the dirt. You dug a trowel into a patch of violet ferns, unbothered by the dampness seeping into your avatar's uniform. “They want everything to be quantifiable in tons of unobtanium. They can't handle the fact that the grass beneath their boots has a higher IQ than their entire legal department.”
Dr. Danel stepped out of the helicopter last, looking down at you with a fond, albeit tired smile. “Now, Y/N, science requires skepticism. Dr. Augustine was brilliant, but mapping a planet-wide neural network through a handful of localized root samples is a massive statistical leap.”
“Oh, come on, Doc!” You looked up, a massive grin breaking across your blue face as your tail flicked with pure excitement. “Look at the signal delay when I do this.”
You tapped the handle of your trowel sharply against a thick, exposed root of a nearby tree. Instantly, a wave of faint cyan light pulsed through the moss, rippling outward into the dark underbelly of the forest like a fallen domino.
“See that?” you pointed, leaning in so close your nose almost touched the dirt. “That is not a localized reflex. That is a synapse firing! If Earth’s neurologists weren't so incredibly arrogant, if they just believed in something beyond what can be explained by their rigid Earth science, they could easily get a PhD in neurology just by studying the damn grass here!”
Marco snorted, shaking his head as he maneuvered his datapad. “Sure. A course about advanced synaptic botany, taught by a blade of grass, would be so loved by Ivy Leaguers.”
You rolled your eyes. “Who cares about what they love? We’re on Pandora!” you said. “And I'm serious!” you insisted, scooping a pristine sample of the glowing soil into a sterile jar. “Back on Earth, human neurologists spend decades slicing up organic brains, trying to figure out how a hundred billion neurons create a thought. Meanwhile, out here, Pandora just grew a giant, macroscopic brain and let us walk around inside it. You don't need a scalpel to study this mind, Marco. You just need an open mind.”
Dr. Danel chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “It’s a beautiful hypothesis, Y/N. But until we can map the exact neurotransmitter equivalents traveling through those roots, the military heads at Bridgehead are going to keep treating this world like a parking lot waiting to happen.”
“Then they're fools,” you muttered, sealing the jar as you looked at the back of a recombinant soldier. “Because you don't fight a brain this big. It’s going to outsmart them just as it did in the First Pandoran War with Jake Sully.”
Before Marco could counter your argument with another dry, skeptical remark, all of you grew silent as one of the recoms threw a fist in the air. Dr. Danel looked at them with a deeply worried frown. “Keep your weapons low, Corporal. We are here strictly for ecological sampling. If we trigger a political incident with the Omatikaya, the General will have our heads.”
“Relax, Doc,” the soldier smirked. “We’re just keeping our eyes peeled for the blues.”
Your head snapped to the side, your large, sensitive ears twitching violently backward, catching the unmistakeable sound of footsteps against the moss. The recom near a foliage clutched his heavy assault rifle and pointed it into a void before shooting in the air.
“Stop! What are you doing!” Dr. Danel shouted over the gunfire.
You heard another sound, sharp and cutting, and the next rhing you saw was a massive arrow tearing through the air, embedding itself directly into the chest of the soldier who fired the shots. He didn't even have time to scream before the sheer force threw his massive body backward into the dirt.
“Ambush!” The other recom roared, instantly raising his rifle and blind-firing into the dense thicket. The thunderous crack of gunfire shattered the peaceful morning.
“Get back in the chopper! Now!” Dr. Danel screamed, struggling to reach out from the open bay door, his blue hands outstretched toward you. “Y/N! Marco!”
Everything dissolved into a chaotic blur and from the branches above, massive shadows dropped with a swift, terrifying grace. You saw a massive Na'vi warrior collided with the uninjured recom, sending both of them crashing into the underbrush.
“Y/N!” Marco shrieked. He tried to jump out of the rising chopper to grab your arm, but he was hauled back when the pilot panicked and pulling the chopper upward to escape the hail of arrows. “No! Y/N!”
You scrambled backward on your hands and knees, your specimen jar shattering against a root. Before your brain could even choose between flight-or-fight, a massive, muscular arm strongly wrapped around your waist. You let out a high-pitched shriek as your body was effortlessly hauled up in the air, your feet kicking.
“Stop moving!” A harsh voice barked in your ear.
You blinked through your panic, looking around the clearing. The second soldier was dead, but the other was severely wounded on the ground, surrounded by three Na'vi warriors who had his arms pinned. And holding your by the arm now was a fiercely built Na'vi with striking golden eyes, a stern jawline, and a beautifully crafted bow slung over his shoulder.
“Okay, first of all, ouch!” you gasped, wiggling your arm against his iron grip. “Second of all, we were literally just collecting dirt! Do you see this? It's a trowel! It’s for digging, not for conquering! We are peaceful academics!”
The man narrowed his eyes at you before his head jerked to the nearest man. “Bind her. And secure the recom. We take them to my father.”
You understood that Na’vi and you panicked. “Bind me?! No need! I will go peacefully. I mean, my companions are gone and I might not survive alone here, honestly speaking,” you rambled. “Tell me, which people are you? See, I know a few clan names, just from what I’ve read, but the most famous one was the Omatikaya. Jake Sully’s clan. Oh, Jake Sully, my fellow. You know him? And Norm Spellman? I know them both. Parasocially, of course—”
The man yanked your arm, forcing you into a march. “Keep moving.”
“Ouch! Be careful with me!” you said, only to shriek again when you were hauled up by your waist and flopped down on the back of a huge direhorse. “Wow, you are so nice!”
The man mounted behind you, his hand gathering your hands so fast you haven’t even able to get a word out and your hands were bounded. You turned your head to look at the man with a glare.
“Oh, this was unnecessary!” you complained.
You felt his large hand on your head, forcing it to turn back to the path and you groaned in annoyance. The march back to the Omatikaya stronghold was an absolute nightmare, but mostly for Neteyam. Not you. For a captive who had just survived a lethal ambush, you possessed a completely infuriating trust and hope for your captors. Your legs were swinging on the direhorse as if it were just an ordinary ride and he had never met someone so talkative.
Once, during the ride, you leaned back toward his body and produced a very inappropriate sound. He suddenly regretted knowing your tongue, because it was torture. You even managed to speak in minimal Na’vi to make sure you were including his warriors to your pep talks.
“You know, you have an impressive wall of muscle. The muscular structure of your quadriceps is fascinating,” you chatted amiably, touching his thigh with your pointing finger and removing it before he could even swat your hand away. “You have a distinct body structure from the other dudes in general. Jesus, what are they feeding you? I bet you’re their strongest warrior. Like Achilles to the Greeks or something. And that stunt in the tree you did? Oh, my femurs would literally turn into chalk. Crack. Just dust.” You nodded at him. “By the way, my name is Y/N. What’s yours? You look like a... Nathan. Do you have a Na'vi equivalent for Nathan?”
He didn’t answer and he hated how curious he was. What’s a Nathan? He’d have to ask Jake about that.
“And you!” You pointed to another warriors. “Wow, the braids. Did you do those yourself or is there a designated hair-stylist in your clan? Because the symmetry is immaculate. Truly. I tried to braid my avatar’s hair three days ago and I looked like an electrocuted direhorse.”
Neteyam kicked his direhorse to a halt, stopping it dead in its tracks. The entire column of warriors halted behind him. You turned to him curiously.
“Uhm, why did we stop? Are we finally here—”
“You do not stop speaking,” Neteyam hissed, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You are a prisoner of war. You should be weeping. You should be praying to your false gods.”
Your jaw dropped. He is speaking your tongue, and his voice is sexy. “Oh, you have a sexy English voice. Did you know that? Just deep and gravelly, so hot,” you flashed him a smile. “And honestly, crying burns calories, and I’m already hungry so—”
With a swift, fed-up motion, Neteyam snatched a thick strip of a woven strip from his satchel. Before you could move, his massive hand put the strip into your mouth, tying it securely behind your head.
“Mmph?!” you protested, your eyes widening.
“If you make another sound, I will tie you to my direhorse backwards,” Neteyam warned, his face inches from yours.
Oh, you are lucky to be so handsome right now, you groaned. You’d claw his face if you could! You rolled your eyes, giving a muffled, sassy huff through your nose, and sat properly.
“There,” he said in a low voice near your ear, sending a weird electricity throughout your body.
You felt a weird tingling between your thighs and looked down as if you could see the biological mechanisms of what’s happening in your avatar body. Your eyes narrowed and your jaw dropped. Oh, absolutely. You didn’t know that an avatar body could feel turned on, too, and that it has mechanisms at all for that. You wondered if it works just like a human body.
When the hunting party finally broke through the dense foliage, you were treated to a view of a massive tree. A hometree. “Whoa... This is your home?” you uttered in a muffled voice.
“What? Can’t understand you,” the man behind you said, and when you turned to him, you saw a satisfied smirk on his face.
You groaned, but the shift in the atmosphere already got your attention. The Hometree was massive, it was insane, and in front of its hollowed out entrance stood a large man whose physique differs from those around him. Your gasp was muffled, but you realized that tha was Jake Sully. Looking every bit the legendary, battle-hardened resistance leader he was painted to be in every news you’ve watched about him.
The man behind you dismounted, lifting you off the direhorse in a swift move just as the other warriors were shoving the wounded Recombinant to the ground.
“Sir. We found them near the eastern borders, accompanied by a Samson. One is dead, the others escaped, and we brought this one alive.”
Jake's eyes immediately locked onto the wounded Recombinant before looking at another warrioe. “Get him treated, we need him alive. He’s an asset.”
You, however, were completely ignoring the political drama. Your eyes had landed squarely on Norm Spellman. Your muffled “Mmmph!” becoming incredibly loud.
Norm, noticing your eyes on him, blinked. “Uh, Neteyam. What's up with that one?”
Neteyam sighed heavily. “She has a sickness of the mouth. She does not stop.” With an irritated jerk of his hand, Neteyam reached out and untied your gag.
The moment the leather cleared your lips, you took a deep breath and gasped, “Norm? Norm Spellman?”
Norm froze. “Uh... yeah?”
From the shadows of a nearby rock, you heard someone saying, “A Norm fan? Wow. That's a first for Pandora.” And when you whipped your heard, you saw a grown white man wearing only a loincloth.
You ignored him and looked back at Norm again. “I’ve read every single one of your published papers on the exoflora of the Western Frontier!” you blurted out, your tail swishing with genuine euphoria. “Your study on how Pandoran trees use electrical pulses to communicate with each other was foundational to my entire master's thesis! I can't believe it! You're a legend!”
Norm’s chest instantly puffed out. He looked over at Jake with a smug, self-satisfied grin. “Oh, a small thing. Wait, are you working for the RDA?”
“Not really working working for them, but I’m a scholar. I only really care about the flora and fauna, nothing else,“ you replied.
Norm shared a meaningful look with Jake who shifted his gaze to you. Before he could even speak, you jumped right at it again.
“And you! You’re like... the ultimate legendary villain back on Earth. They literally have a three-hour documentary about how you single-handedly ruined humanity’s chance for a brand new life in a brand new world. I am so incredibly honored to meet you,” you offered him your bounded hands.
He looked down at it, his hand politely holding your jutting out fingers and shaking it lightly before letting go.
“But honestly, I understand you. Humanity doesn’t really mean humanity, anyway, right? They won’t be transferring everyone. At least not the billions of humans on Earth. Only those who have billions. So, seriously, the battle of the Hallelujah Mountains? Masterclass.”
Jake was utterly dumbfounded. He looked at Neteyam, then back to you, completely unsure of how to process everything you’re saying. Neteyam placed a hand over his face, shaking his head.
“I apologize, Dad. I should have left her in the woods. I will put her in the upper cells.” The man beside you said, and your jaw dropped.
“Dad?!” you echoed, your head snapping to the man and looking at Jake. “You are Jake Sully’s son? No way! That’s why you’re built different, huh—”
“Get that man to the underground cells,” Neteyam’s deep voice cut your rambling off, and you saw the warriors drag the Recom by his shirt. “And you, if you don’t shut up, I will put you underground, too.”
“Is that a euphemism for burying alive? If so, then no, you don’t need to do that! I will shut up, now,” you nodded at him with a serious look on your face.
“Good,” he replied, his large hand wrapping at your forearm and started dragging you into the Hometree.
The hollowed-out trunk spans upwards and an intricate winding ramp was so beautiful, you couldn't wrap your head around the fact that it was definitely made by hands. The upper cells were situated three levels up and your cell was a naturally hollowed-out alcove with thick, curling wooden bars to close off the entrance.
Neteyam removed your bindings, his eyes narrowed as he watched you with deep suspicion, gently pushing you inside. To you, it didn't look like a jail cell. It looked like something out of a fairytale. There was even a window-like hole to let in air which also allows you to look at the surrounding verdant bush outside.
“This is gorgeous,” you muttered, running your fingers along the smooth, glowing moss on the root wall. “It’s like living inside a luxury treehouse. It reminds me of those storybook rabbits!”
You turned to him when you heard the door close. You put a hand on your hip, watching him secure it by a heavy leather latch on the outside. Your eyes narrowed.
“No need for that though, even if I wanted to run away, I wouldn’t have known how to go back to Bridgehead.” you said, sitting on the woven hammock, removing your boots.
He stood outside the bars, watching you do a yoga easy sit on the hammock.
“Neteyam, right?” you asked, putting your palms together. His eyes dropped to your hands, his forehead creasing. “Quick question. The Recombinant soldier. Is he going to live? Because from a scholarly standpoint, seeing how his synthetic Na’vi biology handles physical trauma under stress is a once-in-a-lifetime research opportunity for me—”
You were cut off when he simply turned on his heel and walked away into the shadows of the upper tunnels. Your lips parted, pointing a finger to where he disappeared. You stood up, walking to the bars.
“Wow! The nerve of this man!” you yelled after him, throwing your hands up. “A simple ‘I don't know,’ would have sufficed! Oh, you rude, rude man! Super rude!”
You turned around, letting out an annoyed sigh, and banged a closed fist against the wooden bars. The sounds of footsteps nearby reminded you that you weren't alone, though, because standing a few paces away were two young warriors assigned to guard duty. They were gripping their spears tightly, looking all fierce and imposing.
You smirked. Target acquired.
“Hey guys,” you said in Na’vi, sliding down the bars until you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at them through the gaps. “So, since you’re going to be my best friends for the foreseeable future, we might as well chat. I’m Y/N. What are your names?”
The guards exchanged a tense glance. The taller one muttered something in rapid Na'vi to his companion.
“Oh, I caught that! You don’t need to be afraid. Surely, they won’t punish you for talking? Unless the Olo’eyktan of Frown Town called Neteyam will get mad about that,” you said. Your accent was a little clunky, but your vocabulary was shockingly vast. “My grammar is bad, but I have a big heart. I’m going to tell you right here, right now that I do not like the RDA. They are... how do you say... greedy parasites who smell like burning gasoline?”
The shorter guard's mouth twitched. He quickly bit his lower lip to hide a smile.
“Seriously!” you pressed on, leaning your cheek against the wood. “I am a scholar! I do not support their violence and destruction of your world.”
A snort escaped the taller guard. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, but the dam had broken.
“You... speak our tongue,” the shorter one said, stepping a bit closer. “Though you sound like a seven-year-old who isn’t sure of her words.”
“I'm doing my best here,” you laughed, your tail flicking playfully behind you. “What's your name, short-and-judgmental?”
“I am Si’an,” he said, a reluctant grin breaking across his face. “And this is Aleto.”
You nodded. “Nice names. Does it mean anything?” you curiously asked and they moved closer to properly chat with you.
When it was time to sleep, you pulled the soft blanket Aleto had smuggled for you up to your chin. You closed your eyes, the bioluminescent glow of the walls fading into a flash of sterile, blinding white light. A harsh hiss echoed in your ears as the pressurized seal of the link pod broke, replacing the warm, rich air outside by the synthetic, recycled chill of Bridgehead’s tech-bay.
You coughed slightly as your throat adjusted to the atmosphere, holding onto something so you could sit up. There was a crowd of tech-assistants and scientists around you, at forefront being Dr. Danel and Marco, their faces pale. Behind them, standing like a dark cloud, was the military division head, General Ardmore's deputy, alongside a couple of armed security guards.
“Y/N! Shit! Oh, thank goodness,” Marco blurted out, helping you up. “We thought you were dead! The chopper pilot said the whole clearing was crawling with hostiles!”
“Where is your avatar?” Dr. Danel asked, his voice worried as he checked your vitals monitor. “Is the link stable? What happened?”
You swung your legs over the edge of the pod, looking around the crowded lab and taking a deep breath. You delivered the news with complete, deadpan gravity.
“I’m in jail.”
Their faces looked like a cluster of colorful balloons had just been violently popped. The entire room went dead silent.
“Jail?” Dr. Danel echoed, his jaw dropping. “The Na'vi have... a penal system?”
You shook your head. “No, no. It’s more of like a dungeon, honestly,” you lied, your eyes sliding over to the military official who was now pushing his way through the scientists.
The soldier leaned over your pod. “Where is Corporal Jeong? The Recom soldier who was taken with you.”
You immediately schooled your face into an expression of vacant, traumatized innocence. You shook your head slowly. “I don't know, sir. The moment the Na’vis dropped from the trees, everything went completely sideways. I was blindfolded almost immediately. I couldn't see a thing.”
“Did you catch on to who got you? Which clan? Where their base of operations is?” the commander pressed, his eyes narrowing
You glanced briefly at Dr. Danel before looking back at the officer, widening your eyes. “N-No. Like I said, I was blindfolded the entire time and the next thing I know, I’m at the bottom of a dark, wooden hole. I haven't seen a single tactical layout.”
The commander gave a tight, deeply unsatisfied nod. “If they bring you out for interrogation, or if you catch any geographical markers through the link, you notify us immediately. Understood? You are our eyes inside the enemy's perimeter.”
“Understood, sir,” you lied flawlessly.
The moment the military detail cleared out, Dr. Danel and Marco practically dragged you by your arms into the break room, giving you a bottle of water and a heated bowl of food.
“Alright, what’s really going on?” Marco hissed, handing you a cup of hot coffee now. “Was that true? You don’t know where you are?”
You took a slow sip of your coffee, keeping your mouth firmly shut. You had made a decision the moment Neteyam dragged you into that spectacular tree trunk. If the RDA found out you were sitting in the literal heart of the Pandoran resistance, they would turn your link pod into a military tracking beacon. They would use your eyes to map out a strike zone and to kill Jake Sully, once and for all.
You were a scientist of life, not an asset for a corporate war machine. Your sole purpose now was to earn the trust of the Omatikaya, to get them to open that wooden door so you could study the magnificent, interconnected mind of this world.
“It’s true,” you said quietly, looking Marco dead in the eye. “And if I know anything, I'm not telling the military a damn thing. I am here to continue my PhD. I am not a spy.”
Dr. Danel let out a long, heavy sigh, but to your surprise, a small, proud smile touched his lips. “Good. Keep it that way. If the General's office smells even a whiff, they will take over your life completely. Just like what they tried to do with Jake Sully.”
“Just be careful, Y/N,” Marco warned, though he looked relieved even as he rolled his eyes. “Wherever you are.”
Because of the immense pressure, you became incredibly strict with your schedule. You spent your human hours locked in the Bridgehead labs, meticulously analyzing the soil samples you had managed to bring back, utilizing the high-tech RDA equipment to catalog data before swiftly diving back into the link pod. You couldn't afford to waste time. Every hour your avatar slept was an hour you could be earning the trust of the Omatikaya.
The next morning, Si’an and Aleto were joined by another young hunter and by noon, you had taught them the universal, high-stakes psychological thriller known as Rock, Paper, Scissors.
“No, Aleto, listen,” you explained patiently, your face pressed against the gap in the wooden bars. “The stone smashes the scissors. The scissors cut the paper. The paper covers the stone. It is a cycle of inevitable destruction.”
“But why does paper defeat stone?” Tseru asked, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. “A stone can tear through a leaf easily.”
“It blankets the stone, Tseru! It smothers its power!” you argued dramatically, throwing your hands up. “Don’t question the ancient lore of Earth. Now, on three. Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!”
You thrust out a flat hand for paper. Aleto threw out two fingers for scissors. He let out a triumphant, booming warrior cry that echoed through the upper canopy of Hometree, thrusting his spear into the air. “I have cut your paper!”
“Ah, a worthy adversary,” you sighed, shaking your head. “You win this round. Now hand over that blue fruit you’re hiding behind your back.”
As Aleto happily passed the sweet treat through the bars, you felt a familiar cue at the back of your consciousness, the digital tether of the link gently pulling you back for a scheduled maintenance cycle.
“Alright, boys, the link is pulling me back for a bit,” you warned them, shifting back onto your woven hammock and pulling up a blanket to your chin. “Don't miss me too much. Practice your tactics.”
“We will guard your cell, Y/N,” Si'an promised solemnly, puffing out his chest.
You spent the rest of the day working in the lab, letting the military guards see you conscious in your human form to show them that there was indeed nothing you could do with your avatar confined in a dungeon somewhere none of you know. You keep up at this, living your double lives seamlessly.
By week two, your cell had ceased to be a prison. It had officially become the hottest social club at Hometree. Word of the many Terran games you were teaching your guards had spread through the adolescent hunter ranks like wildfire. One day, when you linked back into your avatar form, the cell was practically buzzing.
You opened your eyes not just to the usual thrre guards, but seven young warriors huddled outside your bars, arguing heatedly over their hand positions.
“No! Tseru is cheating! His hand was a stone, but then he changed it to paper when he saw my scissors!” Si'an shouted, his tail thrashing in high-stakes frustration.
“I did not! The stone simply unfolded due to the wind!” Tseru countered defensively.
You sat up on your hammock, stretching your long blue arms, a massive grin breaking across your face. “Well, well, well. Look at this. A regular tournament of champions.”
The warriors instantly turned to you, their faces lighting up. “Y/N! You are awake!” Aleto cheered, rushing to the bars. “Teach us another. The finger-game has caused three arguments and Tseru owes me his favorite hunting knife.”
“Alright, alright, settle down,” you laughed, sliding off the hammock and sitting cross-legged at the gate. “Since you guys like tactical competition, let me introduce you to a little thing called Charades.”
For the next two hours, the upper cells of Hometree became a theater of absolute, unadulterated chaos. You had fierce, deadly Omatikaya warriors, men who could take down a large Samson with a single arrow, frantically flailing their arms, hopping on one foot, and mimicking the movements of various forest creatures while the others screamed guesses at the top of their lungs.
“An ikran! No, a sturmbeest! Why are you shaking your hips like that, Aleto? Is it a sick direhorse?!”
“It is a viperwolf catching a bug!” Aleto yelled, exasperated, collapsing against the wooden bars while you wiped tears of laughter from your eyes.
“No, no, he was clearly a very dramatic prolemuris,” you corrected, leaning your head against the bars. “You guys are terrible at this. I love it.”
Si’an smiled warmly, handing you a beautifully carved wooden cup filled with sweet water. “The sky people must have a very strange world if this is how you spend your days. Do you not have forests to run through?”
Your smile softened, your tail giving a quiet, reflective twitch. “We used to, Si’an. Earth was a beautiful planet once. Green, vibrant, full of life. But humans... Well, humans thought a concrete jungle was better. We built too many metal boxes, burned too much black oil, and we choked Terran.”
And that’s what this world needed protection from. Humans don’t know when to stop.
The young warriors fell silent and you sighed, waving a dismissive hand, and telling them about reality television and explained the concept of a cat instead. You were completely unbothered by your captive status and was endlessly entertained by the warriors guarding your cell. They brought you the softest bedding, the sweetest fruits, and would literally sit in front of your cell to talk to you about Pandora and your life back on Earth.
Meanwhile, Neteyam has been having terrible days.
It started at the training grounds. He had been trying to instruct the younger hunters on aerial tracking maneuvers, only to find half of his squad huddled in a circle, giggling. When he demanded to know what was so amusing, one of them had blurted out, “Neteyam, did you know that on Terran, they have tiny glowing boxes where people pretend to be animals for currency?”
He had traced the source of this sudden intellectual corruption directly back to your cell.
Neteyam marched down pathways leading to the cells and as he rounded the corner, his lips parted. There were no less than eight warriors sitting in a semi-circle outside your bars. You were leading them in a clumsy, boisterous rendition of an unfamiliar song, conducting them with a piece of kindling wood.
“What is this gathering?”
The deep, gravelly, instantly recognizable voice cut through the warm atmosphere. The warriors froze. Slowly, every single head turned to find Neteyam standing a few paces away. You pressed your head against the bars, trying to see him. You saw him with his arms crossed over his broad, muscular chest and his golden eyes were flashing with thunderous fury.
You blinked, totally unbothered, and offered him a cheery wave. “Hi, Commander! Perfect timing. Grab a spot on the floor, Aleto is up next and—”
“Everyone, OUT!” Neteyam roared.
The warriors scattered like wood-sprites caught in a flash of lightning. Spears were grabbed, apologies were muttered, and within three seconds, the corridor was empty, leaving only Neteyam standing outside the bars, his chest heaving with irritation.
You blew a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, leaning against the bars with a heavy pout as you looked up at him. “Wow. You really know how to kill a vibe, Neteyam. We were right at the chorus.”
“You are a plague,” Neteyam hissed, stepping right in front of you, his golden eyes blazing down at you. “You are a captive of the Omatikaya, yet you have turned my warriors into simpletons. They speak of stupid games and stupid animals—”
“Oi, communication bridges the gap between warring factions!” you argued, crossing your arms. “Besides, your warriors were stressed. A little cultural exchange is good for moral support. You should try it sometime. You look like you haven't smiled since the turn of the century.”
“Stop,” he commanded. “You will stop distracting them. You will sit in the dark, and you will be quiet. You are an enemy.”
You stared at him, your playful demeanor vanishing, replaced by a sharp, stubborn glint in your eyes. “An enemy? I haven't done a single thing to hurt your people. But fine. If you want a dangerous, silent prisoner so badly... you got it.”
You crossed your arm and hissed like a kitten, showing him your fangs before you turned your back on him. His head reared back a little, watching you lie on your sleeping mat in the furthest corner of the cell, and went completely still. His forehead creased at how his chest fluttered, making him almost smile for whatever reason.
But he caught himself immediately, pushing against the wooden bars and walking away.
For two full days, you did not say a single word. But that was simply because you didn’t link back that much to yout avatar so you won’t have to suffer. When Ateyo brought you fresh fish and roasted fruits, you didn't even turn back. You remained curled in a tight ball, staring blankly at the root wall. You didn't eat. You didn't drink. In your avatar form of course, because as a human, you were eating good.
Because of this, the warriors were in a state of absolute crisis. They were so dramatic about it at the training grounds, you’d think they’d lost their grandmother, but when Neteyam tried to eavesdropped, it was just them talking about how you look so weak and how you’re probably suffering from the fact that you’re not eating and socializing.
“The poor girl is fading,” one of them sighed.
“Is there something we can do to put a stop to Neteyam’s cruelty toward her?”
Cruelty? Neteyam protested in his mind. When he told you to stop talking to his warriors days ago, he didn’t expect you would go on a hunger strike! Now, his warriors are turning against him in silent protest for his cruelty toward you. You could literally create your own army of warriors who would do your bidding for you, and that’s what’s clear to him.
He went to your cell by nightfall, seeing you still curled up to your mat. “Hey,” he called out, waiting for you to move but you didn’t. His eyes narrowed, unfastening the lock.
He went inside, walking toward your mat and putting a hand over your arm to nudge you. Your dead weight surprised him, your body getting carried by his nudge. His heart fell to his stomach, his eyes widening a little as he gently shook you.
“Hey,“ he nudged but to no avail. “Fuck.” he whispered, squeezing your arm.
You’re warm and your flesh isn’t rigid, but what’s with the dead weight? He scooped you into his arms, walking out of the cell. Your warrior friends who saw him locked in right away when they saw you in his arms as he was walking down the pathway.
“Oh, Great Mother, what happened to her?” Aleto asked.
“I knew it, she’s going to die anytime soon because of this!” Si’an said with a shaky voice, both of them following Neteyam as he stepped up the winding ramp to the healing pavilion.
“What’s going on?” Another warrior asked when they passed by.
By the time they reached the pavillion, there were at least nine warriors tailing him, all of them worried. He turned to them before he went inside though, snarling, “Go back to your posts.”
They reluctantly scrambled away, but still looking back to see what they could before he entered the pavilion. Kiri looked up as soon as he did, her brows furrowed. “What happened?”
“She’s not... waking up. She refused to eat for days and now, she’s just... this,” he said, pulling your body closer to his body.
“Put her down there,“ she gestured on a mat. “Is she the avatar brought in weeks ago?”
“Yeah,” he croaked.
Kiri checked your vitals. “You’ll have to call Dad, we’ll ask him,” she said.
Neteyam did. While Jake already knew that it was just a case of the driver not linking to the avatar, his son’s uncharacteristic panicking is suddenly too entertaining to not witness further. He stood in the pavillion, watching Kiri show him how dead you are.
Once Jake assured him that your avatar body was perfectly healthy but simply throwing a massive, stubborn tantrum, Neteyam took matters into his own hands. He brought in a tray of food in the pavilion and waited for you to wake up, if you will. And you did. Your eyes peeled open suddenly, your head swiveling until your eyes landed on the man sitting a few feet away.
“Great. She’s awake,” he says. “And the food’s still hot. Eat,” he ordered flatly.
“Whoa, he goes straight to business,” you mumbled but you didn’t move.
Neteyam crouched down, his shadow looming over your form. “Y/N. Stop this foolishness. Do not do this to punish me,” he said in a deep voice.
You rolled on your stomach. “I am not punishing you!” you said in a small voice, giggling.
Your face was noticeably pale, and your lips were dry, it was all starting to tug at Neteyam’s heartstrings until a wicked spark flared on your face. He threw his head back, knowing you’re about to say something crazy again.
“But do you feel punished?” you asked, smirking at him. “Is that why you came crawling back for me to forgive you?”
Neteyam clenched his jaw so hard a muscle leaped in his cheek. “I just don’t want your death on my hands,” he said.
You pouted. “You’re sooo concerned, it really flatters me,“ you teased, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, leaning dangerously close to his space.
Neteyam stood up so fast he nearly hit his head on the low ceiling root. “You are insufferable,” he growled, turning on his heel and storming out of the tent.
You burst into a loud, echoing laugh that followed him all the way to the pathways. He spinned on his heels again, barging back into the tent and seeing you dragging the tray to eat.
“Good. Eat, because I’m bringing you back to your cell,” he said.
You groaned, your feet kicking in protest. “This isn’t my new room? I could really get cozy in here!” your fingers grabbed a cut up roasted meat and brought it to your mouth.
“This is the healing pavilion,” he replied seriously, standing rigidly by the entrance.
“Can I request something?” you asked. “I seriously need an outfit change and a bath. You know, back on Earth, prisoners have rights. They get bath time and outfit changes—”
“I’ll take care of that,” he said before walking away.
You narrowed your eyes. “So rude,” you smirked, munching on the meat.
He returned just as you were cleaning your leaf off, carrying a bundle of soft, woven fabrics. His eyes tracked how you were reclining on the mat, your long legs stretched out and your upper body propped on one elbow. You licked your fingers off, smiling at him and his lips pulled back in what looked like a snarl before he dropped the fabrics on a nearby low table.
“Here.“
You moved to inspect it, blinking as you realized that they were going to complete your whole Na’vi experience. There was a yellow beaded top and a soft purple loincloth.
“You really made sure I will look like a stunner with my new outfit. I love these,” you smirked.
Neteyam let out a low, visceral groan of pure regret. “If you do not shut your mouth, I will throw you back to your cell without the bath.”
You moaned, standing up as you held the fabrics under your arm. “These threats are starting to sound like flirting to me, Commander, so maybe pipe down.” You widened your eyes at him.
He didn’t respond but you saw how his whole face protested against that, making you chuckle as he led you down the pathway toward the winding ramp. You waved a hand to the warriors you know, seeing them perk up knowing that you’re alright.
The walk to the lower root pools was a masterclass in psychological warfare. For Neteyam, at least. You were unbounded, walking freely beside him, and you did not let up for a single second.
“You know, for a high-ranking commander, you walk very stiffly,” you noted, tilting your head as you matched his long strides. “Are all Na’vi men this tense, or is it just the specialized training for the grumpy ones?”
Neteyam stared straight ahead. “I am tense because you are currently walking next to me instead of being in jail.”
“Ouch,” you gasped, placing a dramatic hand over your chest. “But seriously, look at the view! Everything is gorgeous today. Don’t you ever just want to stop and smell the flowers, Neteyam?”
“No. It’s my everyday view.”
“What about a song? Do you enjoy songs—”
“We’re getting closer to the pools,” he cut you off, his voice dropping an octave as he finally snapped his gaze toward you. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll change my mind and really bring you back to your cell without bath privileges.”
You grinned, entirely unfazed. “See? Look at us, communicating! Building a rapport! This is just great!” You raised both hands.
By the time you reached the secluded lower root pools, Neteyam looked like a man who had survived a war but wasn’t sure he’d survive the peace. The area was beautiful and the sunlight provides a dappled glow over a deep natural basin. Neteyam stopped at the edge of the clearing, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You have ten minutes. I will be standing right here. Face the other way, do your business, and do not make a sound.”
“Ten minutes? For a bath and an outfit change?” you scoffed. “I am an Earth girl, Neteyam. I need a longer time than that! Plus, I have to figure out how to put this loincloth on without accidentally flashing the entire clan.”
Neteyam’s ears twitched violently. He immediately turned his back to you, facing the pathway. “You have nine minutes now. Start scrubbing.”
You chuckled, stepping down into the warm, soothing water. The relief was instant, washing away the grime and stiffness of your avatar’s dramatic captive activity. You splashed around a bit, entirely on purpose, listening to the sharp, annoyed sigh that escaped Neteyam’s lips every time a droplet hit the bank near his feet.
“Neteyam...” you called out.
“What?” he grumbled, refusing to turn around.
“How do you guys get your hair so shiny? Is it a specific leaf? Give me the secrets.”
“I am not giving you hair care advice. Five minutes.”
“Boo. Selfish,” you teased, doing a thumbs down behind his back.
After thoroughly rinsing off and using the saps he gave you, you stepped out of the pool, shivering slightly as the cool breeze hit your damp skin. You grabbed the woven fabrics and began the highly ungraceful process of figuring it out.
The beaded top was simple enough, but the purple loincloth presented a serious problem. “Neteyam...” you called again. “We have a tactical error.”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything! But this loincloth did. Are there instructions for this? Because right now, if I tie this the way I think I'm supposed to, one strong gust of wind is going to ruin your day.”
Neteyam pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders dropping in sheer exhaustion. “It is a standard wrap.”
“Easy for you to say, you’ve been wearing them your whole life! Come here and help me. I promise I won't bite. Unless you want me to...” You made him hear the clank of your teeth biting.
He spun around, a snarl ready on his lips, but as soon as he saw you, he froze. You were holding the fabric securely against your waist, looking thoroughly confused... and so adorable with the little pout that a hot flush creeped up the back of his neck.
Marching over to you with determined steps, he took the ends of the fabric from your hands. You grinned and clapped without a sound, while he focused entirely on the knot, trying to ignore the fact that he was so close to you that some droplets from your hair is on his arm.
“You’re actually really good at this,” you spoke, breaking the moment of tensed silence. “This should be your side hustle. Personal stylist to the prisoners.”
Neteyam pulled the knot tight, a little harder than necessary, making you huff. He stepped back instantly, his expression locking back into a stern mask, though his ears were still pointing out to the sides in clear fluster.
“It is done,” he said flatly, gesturing toward. “Now, back to the cell.”
You looked down at yourself. The yellow beads and vibrant purple looking surprisingly striking on you. You gave him a little twirl and he hated that he liked how you look like in a traditional Na’vi clothes a little too much.
“Honestly? 10 out of 10. I look fantastic,” you declared, confidently walking past him and taking the lead on the path back. “You can walk behind me now, Commander. I know you want to admire your handywork.”
Neteyam let out a sound that was half-growl, half-laugh, shaking his head as he followed you. “May Eywa give me strength,” he whispered.
“She won’t!” you called back cheerfully over your shoulder.
As you two walked up, you spotted Tseru from a distance and he immediately smiled at you. You raised your arm, making a huge wave of your hand, almost walking up to him until you felt Neteyam’s hand on your elbow.
“Another thing. From now on, the guard rotation is canceled. The warriors are completely forbidden from speaking to you. You distract them.”
You gasped dramatically, “You can’t just cut my social life off! Isolation can kill!“ you reasoned, but he already started walking. A slow, Cheshire-cat grin spread across your face as you jogged up behind him, playfully pointing a finger at his back. “But oh, I know this game!”
He stopped abruptly, making you jump. “What game?”
You laughed, your voice echoing in the cavern. “You want me all to yourself?”
He blinked. You saw his ears pin back against his head, like a cat backed in a corner, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve heard that my games are fun and you’re curious, and you—”
He sighed heavily, cutting you off. “Jail.”
He grabbed your wrist and marched down the pathway, bringing you back to your cell. You bounced on your heels, probably the happiest prisoner he’s ever going to see. He pulled the bars shut, and the absolute moment his back was turned and he was out of your sight, Neteyam closed his eyes, a breathless, helpless laugh bubbling up in his chest that he had to bite his own lip to suppress.
A seasoned Omatikaya warrior, not one of your minions, was standing a few paces away, guarding the main thoroughfare, looking at Neteyam with a highly raised eyebrow.
Neteyam instantly wiped the smile from his face, jerking his head toward the man with an authoritative air.
“Don't talk to her.”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The hum of the tech-bay at Bridgehead felt colder than usual as you slid out of the link pod. You didn't even have time to shake off your phantom tail before a shadow fell over your pod.
It was the same grumpy military official from before. He at least waited for you to sit on your swivel chair and drink water before he spoke. “Over a month in a hole and you’re telling me you still haven’t heard a single name? No geographical markers? No anything?”
You blinked up at him, your expression a masterclass in exhausted trauma. “Sir, with all due respect, I am a scientist, not a human GPS. They keep me underground. It’s dark. The only thing I hear is the occasional terrifying growl of whatever alien megafauna they have guarding the perimeter. I am already doing my best to keep a billion-dollar worth of avatar body alive.”
The commander sneered, clearly unsatisfied, but muttered a warning about “withholding operational data” before storming out of the tech-bay.
Once the doors hissed shut, Dr. Danel stepped forward, waving the rest of the lab staff away until it was just you, him, and Marco by the centrifuge station. “Kid. Look at me. You’re a brilliant scholar, but you are a terrible liar to people who actually know you. Where are you really?”
You glanced at the security cameras, then sighed, leaning against the steel counter. “The Omatikaya,” you mouthed subtly, letting out as little voice as possible.
Marco choked on his coffee. “That clan? As in Jake Sully’s clan? Jesus. If the military finds out—”
“They won’t,” you cut him off, your voice fierce and resolute. “Because I’m not telling them. Doc, you should see it. They live inside a massive, perfectly engineered ecosystem. We know they are intelligent, but the entire culture is a blueprint for planetary harmony. If I give the military even a hint of where I am, they’ll bring down Samsons and carpet-bomb the entire valley on the virtue of that useless Recom being held captive.”
Dr. Danel stared at you for a long, heavy moment. Slowly, the tension left his shoulders, and he placed a comforting hand on your arm. “I’m proud of you, kid,” he says. “We hold no loyalties to a corporate flag, our only loyalty is to life itself. I’ll see what I can do on the administrative side to push the investors to allow us to have an independent outpost. We need to get out from under the military’s thumb.”
You nodded, sighing heavily. When you linked back to your avatar the next day, you expected to wake up to the now boring and miserable jail with warriors who refuse to talk. Instead, your eyes cracked open to find the soft, dappled light of what looked like a longhouse.
Even more surprising? Norm Spellman was hovering over you, alongside Jake Sully, who was holding a piece of salvaged RDA technology—a damaged emulation device that had been recovered from a scouting raid.
“Finally,” Norm said, glancing at Jake before he looked down at you. “I’m wondering if you know this?”
You squinted, pushing yourself up into a sitting position on your mat. “An emulation device?” you answered.
“What kind? I mean, this was in a secured brief case. I know it is something very important, but this is a new-generation RDA tech, and we’ve been trying to figured it out. You’re the last resort.”
“That’s a new generation firmware emulator. They use these in the field to spoof localized military frequencies. Basically, it mimics the digital signature of a standard SecOps patrol chopper or armored vehicle so the automated perimeter turrets and scout drones don’t accidentally fire on them,” you said, your voice entirely devoid of any corporate loyalty.
Norm’s jaw dropped. He exchanged a wide-eyed look with Jake. “This is great,” he whispered.
You nodded and yawned, “It is.”
“You know how this works?” Norm followed up and you shrugged.
“Well, you know, before I was thrown into this lovely root cell, I spent months sharing a workspace with the Bridgehead engineers. Let’s just say I know exactly how this new telemetry hardware works. In theory. The tech guys love to brag when they're bored. I know the whole architecture of this thing. If we can manipulate this, you could practically walk a strike team right past their automated scanners. It would be great for you.”
Jake tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Can you crack it? Can you make it work for us?”
You yawned, “I’d love to but I’m in this cell and I don’t have any connection to the outside world, some people would have died—”
“I’ll decree your freedom,” Jake cut you off.
You looked at Norm, “Give me a stylus and I’ll look at the diagnostic layer, I can bypass the standard encryption using an open backdoor. The RDA is cheap. They never rewrite the core code on their hardware.”
Within fifteen minutes of clicking, tapping, and completely exploiting a loophole, the datapad beeped, its interface cascading into a clean, unencrypted stream of decoded frequencies.
“We can work on this, Norm,” you said.
“And you’re free. You’re a guest of the Omatikaya now.”
“I’m free?!” you gasped, a genuine grin breaking across your face.
By midday, you were officially allowed a free woman, given a small, cozy kelku, and granted permission to move about as free as a bird.
Which brought you to your favorite activity: teasing Neteyam.
You spotted him near the lower training ground, checking the tension on his bowstring. You practically bounded over to him, your tail swishing with obnoxious joy.
“Guess who’s a free woman, Commander!” you sang out, sliding into his peripheral vision and waving your hands excitedly. “I’m free! Officially released. No more jail time for this girl. Aren’t you just thrilled?”
Neteyam’s face locked into a deadpan mask. “Considering that I was the one who put you in jail, I couldn’t have been more thrilled,” he answered.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Neteyam,” you teased, leaning down to peer up into his golden eyes. “I know you’re secretly ecstatic that you don't have to break your own rule just to come see me anymore.”
He threw his head back, annoyed but still so handsome. “Do you not have chores to do? Surely, my father freed a high-risk prisoner for an important reason. Members of this clan work. They do not spend their days loitering and harassing warriors.”
“Nope, no chores yet. I’m still in my onboarding phase,” you chuckled, following him step for step as he tried to back away. “Besides, I think my new official job should be your personal shadow. You know, to make sure you don't miss me too much.”
He let out a sharp breath, but before he could snap back, Jake Sully walked by, seeing his son with you. He perked up, making his way to the two of you.
“Neteyam, son,” he clapped a hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. “Y/N is going to be doing an important work with Norm and Max at the human facilities...“ Jake told him.
Neteyam was still looking at you as Jake speaks so you grinned at him. “Important work,” you mouthed, winking.
“...She doesn’t know her way there and we can’t trust that she will live when left unattended outside Hometree, so you’re on guard duty. Every day. You told me yourself that she has a habit of forming her own personal army, so I want an experienced commander keeping an eye on her.”
Neteyam’s ears pinned straight back. He looked at his father in absolute betrayal. “You can’t do this to me...”
“Get to work, son,“ Jake smirked, walking away.
You turned to Neteyam, flashing a brilliant, wide-eyed grin. “Looks like you’re my personal shadow instead. Do you see how me and Eywa are literally like this?” you intertwined your index and middle finger together in front of his face.
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath out of his nose. The distant human research facility is located a few kilometers away through a dense jungle. While you’d like to think that you can actually traverse this alone, some company from a very grumpy warrior is a great thing for a menace like you.
Neteyam marched ahead, his posture so rigid you were convinced a single well-placed twig could snap his spine. His long tail gave tight, irritable twitches every time your bare feet loudly crunched a leaf behind him.
“Neteyam...” you called out and he snapped his head at you with a raised brow, not breaking his stride. “How can you walk like that?”
“Like what?“ he asked.
“I mean, you walk like you’re trying to avoid stepping on bugs,” you said cheerfully, jogging a few steps to catch up to his massive stride. “But it’s impressive! This specialized training is what made it possible for you guys to ambush us and that’s just great, you really showed those Recoms what they are missing—”
“Are you happy you got ambushed and now you’re here as a captive?” he asked.
“I guess so. Bridgehead isn’t really the best place for this,” you twirled. “I deserve this freedom, don’t you think? To plant my feet on this soil, to smell the flowers, to talk to the people, to smell this sweet air—”
“I get it the first time,” he cut you off. “You go back to your human body at Bridgehead, anyway, right?”
“Yes, but I didn’t tell them anything, I swear,” you told him, nodding. “They don’t know where I am.” You made a zipping motion on your lips.
His gaze dropped down on your mouth and his forehead creased. “Why did you do that?” he asked.
You beamed, “Well, err, there’s this thing humans call as zipper. It closes an opening,“ you told him. “So when someone does that, it means their mouth is zipped. They are never going to talk.”
His head tilted, “Well, can you do that? Zip?” he did the motion on his lips.
Your lips pursed, nodding and excited that he’s keeping up. “Yes,” you mouth.
His face visibly smooths over, pointing at the path. “Great. Now, let’s go.”
The daily walks to the human research facility quickly became the highlight of your double life. You link back to your avatar for the important work you do with Norm and Max, but you still spend a significant time in your human body to work on your own study and to ward off military suspicions.
At first, if Neteyam isn’t grumpy, he’s silent. But you were relentless. You ranted about the RDA, you asked him deep theological questions about Eywa, and you taught him incredibly bad Earth puns. Slowly, beautifully, the reverse Stockholm syndrome claimed its highest-ranking victim.
“You know, Neteyam,” you trotted backwards in front of him, looking up at his towering frame with a playful smirk. “I’ve noticed you haven't threatened to tie me to a direhorse backwards in like two weeks. Are you getting soft on me? Am I finally breaking through that thick, grumpy exterior?”
Neteyam stopped walking. The dappled sunlight hitting his sharp jawline and broad shoulders. “You think you are very clever, sky girl,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that deep, gravelly register that made a weird, exhilarating warmth rush straight to your thighs.
“Admit it. You like having me around. You think I’m delightful,” you shot back cheekily, stepping closer before your eyes got snagged by a nearby flower. “Look at that flower over there! Isn’t that called pxuyo? There was a similar plant back in my world—”
“If you touch it, it will shoot thousands of tiny hairs into your face. You will not see the Great Mother, but your eyes will swell shut and you won’t be able to see anything for days.”
“I know! I was saying there was something like that back in my world, and someone made the mistake of wiping their butt with it—”
“What?” His face crumpled in visible distess.
You stared at the beautiful flower, then back at him, nodding solemnly. “Yes,” you said. “But this one’s crazier, because it shoots people. Beautiful and deadly.”
“Like some people,” he murmured, a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth giving him away.
“Oh, did you just smile?!” you cheered, bouncing on your heels in front of him.
As the weeks bled into a routine, the frosty wall between you has completely shattered. You were a walking encyclopedia of useless Earth trivia and hyper-fixated xenobiology facts, and Neteyam, to his own absolute horror, was actually starting to listen. You’d be dissecting the cellular structure of a glowing root, and he would chime in with the practical applications of its sap.
“And then, the humans just sit on a couch and scream at each other for money! It’s art, Neteyam, truly—”
Your foot hit a slick patch of moss. Your arms flailed, your tail whipped around seeking balance, and you went down hard, sliding flat on your butt into a pile of thick, squishy mud.
You sat there, looking utterly ridiculous.
Neteyam froze. He looked down at you. His chest heaved once. Twice. And then, a sound escaped him. A deep, booming laugh that echoed through the canopy. He threw his head back, his white teeth flashing, his entire face lighting up in a way that genuinely took your breath away.
“You’re laughing!” you shrieked pointing a muddy finger at him. “There’s no way! Someone write this down in the ancient lore!”
“Shut up,” he gasped, coughing to clear his throat as he tried to pull his stern commander mask back on, though his eyes were still dancing with pure amusement. He stepped down the slope and extended a hand to haul you out of the muck. “Look at you. You are a disaster.”
“I’m a xenobiologist, Neteyam, I’m all good with mud,” you huffed, deliberately wiping a streak of mud onto his forearm as he pulled you up.
“Well, now, you’re going to a field trip to the nearest river because you can’t go home like that,” he said and you squealed.
Your closeness have grown exponentially that instead of dumping you off at the facility as soon as he has successfully walked you there like he used to, Neteyam started to linger. He would come inside, to the surprise of Norm and Max who weren’t really used to him coming here as much as Lo’ak and Kiri who practically spent every waking day here with Spider.
Neteyam had always preferred spending his days training in his archery and flying on his ikran. Now, he’s sitting cross-legged on a metal crate watching you work with Norm and Max.
“Who is Lo’ak?” you asked when Max mentioned him in passing.
“My brother,” Neteyam answered from where he was sitting, carving on a wood.
“Your brother?! You have a brother I didn’t know about? Where is this man this entire time—”
“He’s mated,” he cut you off. “Not available.”
You choked on your own saliva, your tail giving a violent, shocked flaught. “Mated?! Already? Dang, the younger generation moves fast around here. What about you, big brother? You got a secret mate hidden in the trees that I should know about?”
He slowly raised his head, his eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, heavy intensity that made the playful words die in your throat.
“No,” he said softly, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that did wild things to your heart rate. “I do not.”
“I—I was just asking...” you smoothly looked away, suddenly finding the dirt under your fingernails fascinating. You cleared your throat, frantically trying to focus on your work, but your hands were shaking.
You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and lingering. Over the last moon and weeks, something had shifted. The way his hand lingered just a second too long when he helped you cross a puddle. The way his ears pointed directly toward you the moment you entered a room. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention, not like a security risk, but like something fascinating he was trying to understand.
And it terrified you.
You looked down at your blue hands. This wasn't your real body. Your real flesh and blood was sitting in a metal city miles and miles away, owned by a corporate war machine that you were actively betraying. Your life was a ticking clock of lies, military interrogations, and double-dealing. You were a ghost inhabiting a fake body
Falling for Jake Sully’s son would be a catastrophic complication. But as you stole a glance at Neteyam, who had gone back to his carving with a small, quiet smile on his lips, you realized with a sinking feeling that your stupid, traitorous heart had already crossed the line.
To mask the deafening alarms blaring in your head, you did what you always did when a situation became entirely too real: you turned your internal volume up to a solid eleven.
On the walk back to Hometree, you practically performed a one-woman theater show. You jumped over roots with dramatic flairs, ranted about the nutritions of Pandoran berries, and attempted to teach Neteyam the entire baseline plot of The Matrix using wild arm movements. You didn’t know when it started, but this tension in the atmosphere between you two had only grown thicker and more charged day by day.
And you know that if you stayed silent, it would be awkward, so you talked over it like your life depended on it.
“And then the guy chooses the red pill, Neteyam! It’s an allegory for waking up from corporate brainwashing! Honestly, I think you’d really relate to the main guy—”
You whipped around to face him, walking backward to gauge his reaction, but yoy heel caught the edge of a slick, rain-soaked stone.
“Whoa—!”
Your arms flailed, preparing your body for another ungraceful landing in the mud, but it never came.
A heavy, calloused hand shot out, wrapping securely around your waist. Neteyam hauled you forward against his chest with dizzying force, his other hand anchoring firmly on your shoulder to steady you.
The forest around you seemed to hold its breath. A sudden, gentle breeze rustled the canopy above, sending a flock of fan lizards spiraling down into the clearing. They unfurled into brilliant, spinning wheels of bioluminescent purple and gold, casting an ethereal glow over both of your faces.
Your breath caught. You were pressed completely against him, his chest rising and falling in a rapid and uneven way. You swallowed hard. He’s so handsome. Neteyam’s eyes flickered down, his intense gaze dropping entirely to your lips. You were scrambling for a witty thing to say, beating him from what you know would be a reprimand on walking backward.
But a reprimand didn’t came.
Because he leaned down, and you felt his soft lips pressing against yours, catching your lips in a deep, sudden, breathless kiss.
Now, it would be a lie if you claimed you’ve never imagined kissing him in the past weeks, but you certainly only imagined a gentle, polite kiss. Knowing how he’s this proper and refined gentleman who won’t go up to you at a club and ask you to come home with him.
The kiss was possessive. It was hard and consuming, and made you feel that the hidden glances and accidental brushes of his fingers against yours mean more than what you thought they were. You felt the this is long overdue message he was sending through the kiss as you kissed him back, your hand tightening around his large bicep.
His grip on your waist also tightened, pulling you completely flush against his warmth, emboldened by the fact that you want it, too. When he finally pulled back, his breath was a warm puff against your cheek. Your eyes were wide, your lips parted and your mind was completely blank. He pulled you up to your feet and you had to run your fingers through your hair in an attempt to smooth down your mind.
But still, you couldn’t say a single word for the rest of the walk.
Your zipped-mouth rule was enacted without any request from outside parties, it was simply driven by pure, unadulterated shock for what happened. What you allowed to happen. But Neteyam? The universe apparently loved a comedy of roles, because the moment you shut up, a brilliant, smug smirk broke across his face, and he took it as his personal cue to become the talkative one.
“What’s wrong, sky girl?” he asked, his voice dripping with an insufferable amusement as he matched your stiff stride. “I don’t remember you from my stiff walking classes for the grumpy ones.”
You glared at the path ahead, your tail twitching stiffly behind you.
“You walk very fast when you are quiet,” he noted, jogging a step to lean into your peripheral vision, his ears perking in absolute victory. “I thought you wanted to smell the sweet air? To plant your feet in the soil?”
“Sh...” Shut up, you snarled. You face was already burning a violent shade of deep purple.
So when you two finally reached Hometree, you headed straight for the communal eating areas, desperately seeking refuge. Normally, you sat with your warrior friends, gossiping, playing Earth games, and being loud enough to be a little disturbing. You sat down on a woven mat, grabbing a leaf of roasted fish, hoping the crowd would buffer you.
But a heavy shadow fell over your mat and Neteyam sat right next to you, his long legs crossing comfortably as he reached for a piece of fruit, his arm circling around you instead of reaching in front of you, which made it feel like he was hugging you.
You looked at him, then at your friends who are awkwardly looking at their leaf plates. “What are you doing? Your spot is over there with your family.”
“It just seems more... interesting here,” he said smoothly, a wicked spark dancing in his eyes before he turned to your friends. “Why are we silent?”
You stammered out a clumsy, non-committal noise before shoving more food into your mouth as Aleto scrambled for something to say. It was infuriating. It was like a switch had been flipped in his brain. He had completely adapted to your antics and was now weaponizing them against you. You tried to fight back with narrow glares and sharp elbows, but every time he chuckled, your traitorous heart did a pathetic little flip.
The next morning, the hum of the tech-bay at Bridgehead felt colder and more jarring than ever. You sat at your desk, staring blankly at a centrifuge of soil separation, completely distracted. You had been spinning the same vial for ten minutes without hitting start.
“Hey, little bird,” Marco’s voice cut through your daze. He leaned over your workstation, holding a data pad. “You’ve been staring at that soil like it owes you a worm. Dr. Danel asked for the mineral breakdown an hour ago. What’s going on with you?”
You let out a massive sigh, burying your face in your hands. “Marco. I have a problem. A huge, complicated, multi-layered problem.”
Marco pulled up a rolling stool, eyebrows raised. “Alright, spill. Is the military digging into your field logs again?”
“No, no. Let’s play a hypothetical game,” you said, spinning your swivel chair to face him. “Hypothetically, let’s say someone is in a foreign world. And hypothetically, there is this foreign person. He’s a local inhabitant of that world and... Well, he’s very handsome. But he happens to be, uhm,“ you cleared your throat. “Let’s just say there’s a Romeo and Juliet stuff going on.“
Marco’s brows rose. A slow, knowing grin began to spread across his face. “Uh-huh. Go on.”
“And hypothetically, this local inhabitant has spent weeks being an arrogant, grumpy jerk, but then he suddenly has a personality breakthrough, laughs like music, and then... hypothetically this Romeo kisses Juliet’s brains out under a cloud of glowing fan lizards. Very romantic, very tragic.” You groaned, dropping your head onto the metal desk. “What does Juliet do in this completely crazy scenario?”
Marco let out a low whistle, clapping his hands together. “Jesus, Y/N. Are you in love with Jake Sully’s kid?”
You lifted your head, “I didn't say it was me!”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Marco laughed, but his expression quickly sobered, turning gentle and cautious. “But look... You know how messy this is, right? You can't... be with him. Even if we ignore the fact that his dad is public enemy number one to the corporate suits upstairs, you're an avatar driver. You live in a metal box. Your real body is here, you, a human. How does that even work long-term?”
You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “I know,” you whispered to the cold metal desk, the reality of his words heavy and suffocating. “I know it's complicated. I know that.”
The harsh reality of exactly how complicated it was arrived three days later, during a festival.
The main comnunal area of Hometree was alive with a vibrant, rhythmic energy. Drums boomed through the wooden pillars, and the tapestries glowed in deep red and orange. You were sitting near the back, nursing a cup of sweet water, looking for Neteyam’s familiar silhouette in the crowd.
You found him near the central hearth. But he wasn't alone.
A striking huntress was standing beside him. She was one of the warriors returning from a long journey trading with the southern clans, her posture proud and fierce. She laughed, a bright, clear sound, and playfully shoved Neteyam’s shoulder. Neteyam smiled back, a polite, warm smile, listening to her talk animatedly about something.
A cold, heavy knot twisted violently in your chest.
You nudged Si’an, who was sitting nearby stringing a bow. “Si’an. Who is that? The girl talking to Neteyam.”
Si’an looked over, his face instantly brightening. “Ah! That is Maneya! She has finally returned from Zeswa. She and Neteyam were batchmates. The elders have been speaking to the Olo’eyktan about their arrangement for a looong time. Everybody knows they are to be betrothed before the turning of the next season. They will definitely be mates.”
“Oh. I see. Good for him.”
But deep inside, the words felt like a physical blow, knocking the air clean out of your lungs.
Betrothed. Mate.
You stared at them across the firelit cavern. The woman was perfect. She belonged here. She didn't have a fake body, she didn't have a corporate countdown hanging over her head, and she didn't spend her days lying to a military division to keep the people alive because she is not the enemy. She was part of his world, entirely and without compromise.
A wave of bitter, stinging humiliation washed over you. You had actually let yourself believe that a kiss and some shared banter meant something in a world you were only visiting. He had a whole life mapped out, basically a fiancée waiting to walk down the aisle, and he had treated you like a fun, temporary distraction. Some sky girl to pass the time with.
You put your bowl down on the nearest table, your tail giving a sharp, defensive lash. You didn't stay for the rest of the music. You walked straight back to your kelku, your heart aching with a sudden, sharp clarity. You were a fool to think you could belong here.
You slept early. You shed your tears in your cold, metal room at Bridgehead, wiping your face, staring at the white ceiling, and deciding right then and there that nothing will come out of this.
This was what you actually loved about yourself. You were a masterclass at adaptability. You had a PhD in accepting things you cannot control. You didn’t let things trip you up for long because life kept moving, whether you were crying or not. Falling for Neteyam was a dead end. It would be an agonizing, impossible mess for both of you, and clearly, he wasn’t even looking in that direction anyway. He had a whole damn fiancée.
You had absolutely zero respect for lying men who went around kissing other women while being fully committed to someone else. You hated that despite being over a nine-foot-tall, majestic blue alien warrior, he was acting just like any trashy guy back on Earth. Nothing turns you off more than that. He’s a loser!
When you linked back into your avatar the next day, just in time for your work with Norm and Max, you took extra care braiding your hair. You made sure you looked sharp, and you felt like a brand-new person with a heavily reinforced wall.
The moment you stepped out of your kelkua and saw Neteyam already standing by the pathway, you almost frowned. See, you were a cool girl, but even the coolest girls needed a grace period after finding out they were accidentally the other woman.
“You’re finally awake,” he said, his voice almost breathless, his golden eyes instantly tracking your face. “You slept early. You left the feast.”
“Ah-ah, correction: I don’t sleep, I log out,” you said, your tone breezy, entirely devoid of yesterday's vulnerability. “I’m not a real Na’vi whatsoever. Remember when I was in my cell and I was just a limp, dead body on the floor? That’s what happens. Spooky, isn’t it?”
Without waiting for him, you started walking down the pathway.
He blinked, rushing a step to follow you. “I remember, and it is not spooky. My father told me that is just how it is with avatar bodies.”
“Yes, totally unnatural, because I’m basically like a remote-controlled toy,” you said, letting out a sharp chuckle. “And I needed to leave the feast early because I had to log out and live my real human life.”
“I tried to find you,” he said, his voice dropping into a lower, tighter tone.
You turned your head, flashing him a bright smile. “Well, I have a strict schedule to make sure my real body won't weaken and die, you know,” you replied casually. “Prolonged time in a link unit can literally kill a human. My real muscles will harden and weaken, I could die of dehydration... and I really need my human body to stay alive. She’s going to get married one day, have kids. She can’t do any of that if I keep stealing her consciousness to play avatar in the woods.”
You glanced at him and laughed, but he only looked visibly pale under the azure. He looked entirely struck dumb by the sudden bombardment of information.
He didn't know what to process first: the terrifying realization that your vulnerable human body was at constant risk of dying if you stayed with him too long, or the sudden, jarring mental image of you married to a human man, having human children, entirely out of his reach. That can’t be possible.
His mouth opened, then closed. He opened it again, clearly trying to find the words to ask you what the hell you meant by that, but the heavy hesitation caught in his throat. He closed it again.
Seeing the hesitation on his face was exactly the window you needed. You loudly clapped your hands together, instantly changing the subject.
“Anyway! Did Norm say if we’re processing the frequency modules today? Because I swear, if Max messed up again, I’m going to lose it.”
You kept up a relentless barrage of small talk, chattering about soil samples, weather patterns, and anything that wasn't personal, leaving him absolutely zero time to process his thoughts. It worked perfectly. Neteyam remained dead silent for the entire walk to the facility, his jaw set so tightly you could see the muscle leaping in his cheek.
You expected him to leave once you reached the shacks, but to your secret frustration, he still stayed. He sat on his usual metal crate, but he wasn't carving wood today. He just watched you with a dark, brooding intensity that made your skin prickle.
Right on the dot, the moment the digital clock on the lab wall clicked over to your designated departure time, Neteyam stood up.
“It is time,” he announced, his voice serious. “You cannot stay any longer. Your schedule.”
You couldn't help but chuckle. “Look at you, playing the schedule police,” you grinned, winking at Max who chuckled. “Alright, alright, keeping me alive. Good job, Commander.”
You were a complete chatterbox, too, on the way back, filling the jungle air with meaningless noise so the silence couldn't breathe. But as you approached Hometree, the welcoming view wasn't the only thing waiting for you.
Maneya was standing right at the entrance. The moment she spotted Neteyam, a bright, beautiful smile broke across her face. You made sure to stop yourself from feeling bitter about it. You need to be happy about this. Happy, happy, happy, you chanted in your mind
You stopped in your tracks for a fraction of a second, then turned to Neteyam with a slow, heavily teasing purse of your lips. He froze, looking at you with wide, panicked eyes, looking exactly like a little kid who had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar.
“Well, it’s sleep time for me, and date time for you,” you teased, your voice dripping with artificial cheer as you showed him a closed fist. “Good luck, lover boy.”
“Y/N—”
You walked right past him, offering a polite, breezy smile to Maneya. Maneya’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes narrowing with a quiet calculation as she watched you pass.
You hated this. You absolutely loathed being caught in this kind of trashy dynamic. It felt like being a guy's ‘girl best friend’, the one he was definitely crossing physical lines with behind closed doors while maintaining a perfect, public relationship with his girlfriend. It was cheap, it was messy, and you wanted absolutely no part in this anymore.
The next morning, when it was time to head to the human facility, Neteyam wasn’t outside the kelku. You were told he was caught up in an early council meeting but asks for you to wait for him. You won’t do that, considering he’s still not here and you were going to be late, and you love being punctual. You walked straight up to Tseru instead.
“Hey, Tseru, do me a favor and walk me to the lab today? Commander Grumpy is busy, and I’ve got a lot of data to run,” you said, your voice clipping with fake authority before you laughed it off.
But still, Tseru blinked, looking around nervously. “Uh... Neteyam said no one else is allowed to—”
“Neteyam is busy with his actual life,” you said, your tail lashing behind you. “Let's go.”
Reluctantly, Tseru escorted you. When you arrived at the facility, you threw yourself into your work with a terrifying, hyper-focused vengeance. You ran data with Norm and Max all day, completely ignoring the passage of time, yet you kept glancing at the windows anyway. So, he’s not only late, he wouldn’t have come if you waited for him.
“Whoa, slow down, Einstein,” Norm laughed, watching you aggressively type into a console. “You’re gonna burn out the processors.” he said, biting on his sandwich.
You chuckled, “Sorry. I’m just that way when my mind’s working fast.”
He shrugs, his human body leaning against a table. “Hey, Max and I were actually talking... have you thought about staying out here permanently? I mean, you can’t go back to Bridgehead. We could really use your brain out here full-time.”
You paused, your shoulders dropping as a wave of exhaustion hit you. You’ve though of that many times, and many times, you have been disappointed to know that it’s just not possible.
“Logistically, Norm, I can’t. My human body is sitting in a high-security sector back at Bridgehead. The link pods are massive, heavily monitored corporate property. I can’t exactly pack it into a backpack and walk out.”
“Do you have any friends on the inside who could help smuggle it out?” Max asked.
“No,” you chuckled. “No one with that kind of clearance. It’s just not possible. I’d have to give up one if I want to stay here, you know? Escape Bridgehead as a human, which is also high risk, because the military is hot on me. I lied to them about where this avatar is, remember? And if I escape as a human, I will lose the link unit, and this avatar will be useless.”
Norm closed his eyes and shook his head, defeated, while Max sighed heavily. All the brightest minds on Pandora had no solution to your problem and it just makes it all feel worse.
What you didn't know, however, was that back at Bridgehead, Dr. Danel had been silently moving mountains. Armed with the truth you had trusted him with, he had spent the last weeks aggressively lobbying the main corporate investors, convincing them that your research was too valuable to be compromised by the ongoing political tension with the military.
Now, he had managed to get the ultimate green light: a covert relocation authorization to establish an independent outpost deep within the Hallelujah Mountains. Out of the military’s eyes.
That night, emotionally exhausted from everything and physically drained from your research, you decided not to return to Hometree. You curled up on a cot in the human facility and let your consciousness fade, pulling your mind back to your human body to assist Dr. Danel with what you thought was just standard lab data cataloging.
You had no idea of the sheer, unmitigated chaos you had left behind at Hometree, though.
The moment the council meeting was over, Neteyam had stormed into the human facility, but when he arrived, he found your avatar completely out on the cot. He had tried to shake you, to wake you, but he knew you were entirely gone. He hated that the council took too long, that it had taken so much of the day, and now he wasn’t even able to talk to you about all the things he arranged in his mind last night.
And then, you didn't wake up the next day. Or the day after that.
For nearly three full days, your avatar remained a completely unresponsive shell. Back at Bridgehead, Dr. Danel had initiated a sudden relocation of the link pods. The physical logistics of disconnecting your human pods, loading them onto independent transport, and flying them deep into the floating mountains took many agonizing hours. Because of the system reboots and physical transit, you were forced to stay out of your avatar.
To Neteyam, it was a three-day nightmare. He had spent those three days in a state of absolute, paralyzed terror. Now, he’s sure you had died. But Norm, in his desire to console him, reasoned that the avatar is not dead, but that there is definitely something wrong with you, the human. They mentioned that the military was hot on you for withholding secrets about where the avatar really is, that they have probably learned you were lying about it.
It had taken Norm begging on his knees to stop him from the suicide mission of going to Bridgehead and see for himself what’s really going on. He had hovered over your sleeping avatar body, refusing to go on patrol, his heart crumpling every time he thinks of his absolute foolishness. He should have talked to you. It's only that he didn’t know if you were on the same page with him.
He likes you very much. Probably even more than that. You are an amazing woman who can get anything, anyone, you want, and he refuses to believe that you will settle for someone... like him. He wants you and he had never been more sure of anything in his entire life, but he didn’t know if you would ever entertain that.
He kissed you, and you kissed him back, but does that mean anything to you like it did for him? You have a whole life outside of this avatar. Heck, you have your own world, and this was just what he has. When you said you were going to marry and have a family in your human form, you couldn’t have made it clearer that you do not see your future locked up in this body.
And now, he could lose any chance he could have had because he was too scared to take a risk. So what if you happen not to like him the way he wants you to? It doesn’t matter.
On the afternoon of the third day, you linked back to your avatar as soon as the outpost systems in the Hallelujah Mountains were settled. The cold, sterile air of the facility rushed into your lungs, but before you could even adjust to the light, a heavy, trembling force slammed into you.
Two massive, muscular blue arms wrapped around your shoulders, hauling you upright from the cot and pulling you fiercely against a broad, solid chest. You gasped, blinking in shock as you smelled the distinct scent of mint.
It was Neteyam. He was disheveled, his breathing ragged, holding onto you with a terrifying, desperate strength as if he were trying to fuse your body into his own.
Norm and Max rushed into the room, looking exhausted but small smiles were written on their faces. “Kid, what happened to you?” Max asked. “Got trouble with the military? I almost got war flashbacks, you know. With Jake and all.”
You were grinning at them. “No, no, quite the opposite. It was a long story,” you said, bringing your hands up to push against Neteyam’s chest so he would release his grip.
“What happened to you?” he asked when he finally pulled away.
The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heartstrings. It’s not something you’ve ever heard from him and it broke away at the wall you tried to put up. Norm glanced at Neteyam and smirked at you knowingly.
“Just to let you know, he has been here for a record-breaking duration of three days and a half,” he said.
Your brows furrowed, rearing your head back to look at him. “You didn’t go home?”
Like a chastised child, he threw you a sharp look through the fringe of his lashes. “You were not waking up.”
“And you know that’s simply me not linking to my avatar,” you pressed your palm against his shoulder.
He caught your hand and didn't let go. “And what of your human self? Are you alright, were you hurt, were you barred from linking to this body?” he asked, his voice hard and heated.
You blinked, your panicking eyes flitting to Max and Norm who are slowly backing away. “Uh, yes, she’s alright. Not hurt. And no, not barred from linking,” you said.
His face smoothed over, looking calmer than ever. “Then why...?”
You pushed your lips forward, stopping yourself from flashing a menacing smile. “I was on a date and then I got married—”
“What?” he asked, his voice rising. “You got married?”
You pursed your lips, looking at his face fall like you just told him he didn’t pass a test. “I’m just kidding,“ you said with a deadpan face. “We did a major relocation. Dr. Danel managed to snag a life-changing opportunity—”
You weren’t able to finish your sentence when his lips came crashing down on yours. His large hand was clamped at your nape, too, deepening the kiss. You closed your eyes and kissed him back for what felt like forever, just savoring the fact that you are kissing again, and then you remembered.
You pushed against his chest, moving away from him. “No, no, no,” you said, pointing a finger at him. “You cannot do this. To me and that huntress who would be your mate. I don’t know if there’s a concept of being a playboy in this world, but that’s you. You can't just kiss me whenever you feel like it—”
“Huntress who would be my mate?” he echoed. “Maneya? She is not going to be my mate—”
“I didn’t strike you for a liar, but I guess you also are—”
His large hands held either of your upper arms to make you face him properly before he looked in you in the eyes, dead serious. “I'm not. I am not betrothed to Maneya. The council wants that; the council wants her to be my mate, but I don't. I never did, and I honestly never knew what I wanted in that area of my life, but I know now. In fact, I have a ten-year plan that involves this avatar that only links back to her body when she feels like it. I never knew Eywa to be this cruel, but to have me fall in love with someone I can't have is a cruel thing to play at.”
You blinked twice and then thrice. For the second time in your life, and because of the same person, you couldn’t find your words, and you are acting the way you never want to: stupid. You watched his face go from emotionally charged and deeply romantic to that of acceptance.
He nodded once, looking down at your hand, linking his lips wet. “I know you don’t see me that way, but I wanted to get that out,” his eyes snapped up to you. “I don’t want to be just friends with you and I want you to know that.”
Your heart felt like it had stopped beating, then jumpstarted only for it to feel like you’ve ran a marathon. “Was it... necessary to say all that looking extremely handsome... Or?” You drew a circle on your face in the air using your pointing finger.
It was his time to look like he couldn't find the words. “I...I don’t—I don’t know...” he stammered, bringing a hand up to touch his side braid.
You smiled at him, raising a hand to cup his jaw and cheek. “I appreciate that, Neteyam...” you mumbled, hating that you had to wipe off the hope on his face. “But it’s... It’s complicated—”
“Because you’re not like me? I don’t care—”
“Yes, and more. I’m living a double life. I’m a human and this is not me. This is not the real me—”
“So what? This,” he motioned at your body. “is just a vessel. Who you are is whatever you have shown me, shown us. There’s a human version and I like her, too, because that’s still you. It doesn’t matter to me, Y/N.”
“It matters to me,” you said, emphasizing your point. “It matters to me that you will be in trouble for being with me. It matters to me that you will find it hard to live a normal life because you’re with me. It’s not as easy as you think it will be. What you feel for me—”
“It’s not going away. I know myself. It will happen only once and I will never feel this way again,” he vowed. “All of those things you were saying, I can live with that. Don’t worry about me. I’ll worry about us. I’ll handle my people.”
You bit your lip, you gaze dropping down. “I... I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll help you.” he said.
Your eyes snapped up, your brows furrowed. “Help me how?”
He looked at you seriously. “Think.”
By helping you think, it means an unyielding, high-frequency presence. He walks you back and forth from Hometree to the facility, he materializes in front of you whenever you so much as need a heavy crate of stabilizers moved, already lifting it before you could reach for a hoist. If you were sitting in front of a terminal to analyze data, he would be sitting in a corner, sharpening his tools, but still having his eyes locked onto you with a steady, quiet intensity that made it completely impossible to focus on a single string of code.
Eventually, you needed to do something about that. Which is why you pulled Norm and Max for a talk one afternoon, explaining the massive administrative change Dr. Danel had pulled off, the relocation authorization that had successfully shifted your human pods entirely out from under military surveillance and into the hidden sanctuary of the Hallelujah Mountains.
Norm scratched the back of his head, a stunned look passing over his features. “Boy, if this isn't familiar. It's like history repeating itself with better hardware. So, you’re staying here... for real?”
“If you’ll have me,” you nodded firmly, crossing your arms. “I need you to talk to Jake, Norm. I want to stay based at this facility permanently instead of trekking back to Hometree. It’ll save me time every single day, and I can just dive straight into work once I link back to this body.”
You didn't mention the real reason, but you were secretly hoping the distance would act as a natural deterrent. If you weren't at Hometree, maybe Neteyam’s intense focus would naturally drift back to his actual duties.
“Done,” Norm nodded, clapping you on the arm. “I'll clear it with Jake. He'll understand.”
But your master plan failed spectacularly. The distance wasn't a deterrent at all; if anything, it only made Neteyam more deliberate. He was a man of his word and entirely a man of action. The moment he learned you were staying at the facility, he simply adjusted his patrol rotations. He began showing up during the exact blocks of time he knew you’d be in your avatar to work with Norm, silently stepping in to assist with manual labor, his quiet devotion remaining completely unbothered by the miles of jungle between you.
The internal conflict grew so loud that it bled right into your human shifts. Back at the newly settled outpost in your real body, Dr. Danel noticed your distraction. You were aggressively cataloging plates with a tense, exhausted look on your face.
“Why don’t you sit and rest for a moment, Y/N?” Dr. Danel’s leveled voice said behind you. “You seem distracted. Are you doing too much work in your avatar?”
You shook your head. “No, not really. It’s nothing I can handle, Doc. It’s something...” you fell back on a rolling chair, sighing as I looked at the pink pads of your fingers.
“Jake Sully’s son...” he trailed, making you snap your eyes up at him. He had a humored look on his face, “Marco had a slip-up.”
You glared at Marco’s link unit, knowing he’s there because you saw his avatar making his way out earlier. “Oh, I don’t believe that! He snitched on purpose!”
He laughed, still busy working in the bay area. “I wouldn’t have repeated it to another soul, kid.”
You sighed, propping your cheek on your palm. “It’s just that... Doc, have you ever thought of falling in love... here? I know what you’re going to tell me. It’s complicated, it’s hard to make it happen, but... He likes me. And he’s really showing me that he wants me. It would have been better if he didn’t, you know? That it’s just me harboring an unusual class on a very handsome blue alien, but no...”
He listened to you rant the entire saga. You told him everything. How Neteyam sent you to jail, how he became your grumpy, jerk bodyguard, how he softened over time, the kiss under the fan lizards, the weight of your double life, the fiancée that isn’t really a fiancée, and how absolutely terrified you were that you were in deep, irreversible trouble with Jake Sully’s oldest son.
Dr. Danel listened quietly, letting out a soft, amused chuckle as he leaned against a sterile lab counter. “What is there to be scared about, kid? It’s love. I’ll actually give you some credit for thinking this through so thoroughly, because heaven knows Jake Sully didn't think for a single second when he crossed that line.”
You pushed your lips forward into a pout, staring down at your human hands.
“You are incredibly lucky to find something like that here, Y/N,” he said gently, his expression softening. “When we left Earth, we know what left behind. The opportunity to just... be human. We gave up everything in pursuit of science. To find love, hope, and real life, something completely separate from what is strictly necessary for survival on another planet, is an incredible stroke of luck.”
You looked up at him and slowly nodding as the truth of it settled into your chest.
“You are a scientist, Y/N, and I know it is your job to analyze and think,” he added, giving you a reassuring smile. “But try not thinking when it comes to this.”
That was the exact, final push you needed to leap straight off the cliff.
Neteyam had absolutely no idea, but your choice was made.
Later that afternoon, back in your avatar, you asked to him to go down the nearby river under the guise of collecting aquatic plant specimens, which you won’t really need that much on the work you’re doing with Norm and Max, but you could study on it separately.
Now, you’re watching the water rushed softly over the smooth river stones, casting dancing reflections of light against the canopy. You sat on the riverbank, watching him walk over to stand directly in front of you.
A familiar, wicked smirk tugged at your lips, your tail swaying mischievously behind you that his eyes dropped down there as you were reaching out, you caught his large hand and pulled him firmly toward you until his massive torso was securely caged between your thighs.
Before he could even ask what you were doing, you leaned up and caught his lips in a deep, deliberate kiss.
You could tell it completely caught him off guard. Neteyam’s ears twitched in surprise, his head rearing back slightly as the kiss broke so he could look down into your eyes. The sudden, brilliant flare of pure happiness in his golden gaze made your heart soar. You leaned right back in, kissing him a second time, but he was far too wise to let you off that easily. He held his position, withholding the full force of his response, his hands anchoring gently on your waist.
“Tell me you are giving me a chance, and we will kiss more,” he whispered, his voice thick, gravelly, and intense.
“I am giving you a chance,” you whispered back, your fingers tangling in the beads of his braids. “In fact, it’s a really huge chance. Whatever you’re thinking about, Neteyam, I’m right beside you.”
He let out a shuddering breath of pure relief, his shoulders visibly dropping as he grounded himself in your words. Both of his large hands slid up to cradle your face, and he kissed you. Hard, deep, and possessively, before pulling back just enough to stare directly into your eyes.
“You will never regret that. I will not let you.”
You smiled at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him back down. There was an understanding.
Or so you thought. Because there was an obvious cultural barrier at play here, because to you, you two were officially in a relationship now. Dating, plain and simple. But to him, he was still technically in the formal phase of courting you.
The very next day, you stepped out of the facility, stretching your arms and fully prepared for work, and to seeing your new boyfriend by midday, once he comes after his patrol, only to find Neteyam already standing by the path holding a giant, freshly killed hexapede. It was slung over his broad shoulders while his other hand was holding a basket of something.
You stopped dead in your tracks. You blinked once. Twice.
“Uh... good morning to you, too, hunting god,” you stammered, pointing a finger at everything. “Are we... having a very aggressive breakfast, or did you bring me a giant, heavy prop for our walk?”
Neteyam walked forward, his expression deadpan but his ears held exceptionally high. He dropped the carcass right at your feet.
“I have brought you the first kill of my current rotation,” he said, his voice deep. “It’s what we do to show our intended that we can provide. I will provide for you from now on.”
You stared at the dead animal, then up at him, your lips twitching as you tried to process the cuteness of this all.
“Neteyam, sweetheart... I live in a metal shack now with a microwave and a bunch of scientists who eat synthetic protein bars,” you said slowly, peering up at him through your lashes. “But... I guess I can force them to eat what I do with this. Or we could bring this back to the cooks back at Hometree?” you bit your lip, your eyes snagging to the basket full of fruits. “Oh, this, however! I would very much love to keep.”
“Bring back to Hometree? This is traditional. A warrior brings a tribute to the woman he courts to show he can sustain her,” his ears pinned back against his head.
“Courts?” You echoed, stepping right into his space and boldly grabbing his face, pulling him down into a quick, smacking kiss on the lips that entirely shattered his stern warrior posture. His eyes went wide as you pulled back, grinning like a menace. “Baby, we kissed really crazy under a cloud of glowing bugs and I told you I'm riding shotgun on your future plans. The trial period is over. You passed. We’re dating!”
“Dating?” he echoed, the human word sounding completely foreign on his tongue. His forehead creased in confusion. “What is day-ting? Is it a human ritual where you do not accept food?”
“It means you don't have to carry a hundred-pound carcass through the jungle just to prove you're a catch,” you chuckled, reaching up to playfully tug on one of his ears, making it twitch. “It means we are together. It means instead of giving me dead meat, you can just do this.”
You leaned in again, your hands sliding up his chest before wrapping around his neck, pulling him into a long, slow, dizzying kiss that had his hands dropping the basket he had been holding. He melted instantly, his large hands clamping onto your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
When you finally broke away, you were both breathing a little heavier. You winked at him, tapping his nose with your finger.
“See? Way less heavy than a yerik, and arguably much better for morale,” you teased. You patted his muscled chest, “I’m keeping the fruits and the yerik goes to Hometree communal kitchen. I’m eating dinner there tonight so I’m still eating what you hunted for. That okay with you, lover boy?”
You pursed your lips and watched him bite his lower lip. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Okay. I’m going to work! I have data to run, and my boyfriend is making me late!”
Neteyam stood in the middle of the path, looking between the dead animal on the ground and your retreating form, his face a spectacular mix of utter bewilderment and absolute, smitten defeat.
“Humans make no sense,” he muttered loudly, though a massive, helpless smile was finally breaking across his face as he hauled the kill back up.
Since you have already made him understood the concept of dating, you have instituted an intense making-out policy that definitely shouldn't have been part of the official manual, but you casually told him you were merely ‘exploring your avatar body's sensory responses to external stimuli,’ and giving him an absolute green light to do whatever he wanted.
But of course, the pretense didn’t mean anything at all, now that you were deep in the woods, sitting directly on his lap, straddling his waist and devouring his mouth. His large hands were everywhere, squeezing your waist with a firm, desperate grip before sliding up to fondle your breasts, while your hands locked around his neck, pulling him closer. You were kissing like you wanted to completely consume each other, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
You shifted your hips against him, a loud, breathless moan spilling from your throat as the solid, heavy ridge of his arousal pressed firmly against your softness through the thin fabric of your loincloth. You have known that being in your avatar and experiencing this kind of sheer intensity from a physical friction makes your body react exactly as you would have as a human, and it was incredible.
“Yawne...” he groaned deeply, allowing you to hump against him, but the sheer stimulation obviously weakened him.
Neteyam leaned his back heavily against the trunk of the tree, throwing his head back as his eyes closed in pure bliss. He kept his mouth glued to yours, but his entire focus had zeroed in on the spot where his hardness is repeatedly meeting your soft mound.
You pulled your mouth away to catch your breath, and a low, needy moan escaped his lips. You smiled, sliding your mouth down to kiss his sharp jawline, nipping at the exposed skin of his neck, and enjoying the way he’s whimpering. You shifted your hips again and again, a sudden, shivering wave of a climax ripping straight through you. You hugged him tightly, hiding your face in his shoulder as your kisses against his neck became wet and sloppy.
He held you firmly, his grip tightening as he maneuvered your body down onto the soft grass. Your sight spun for a moment as you looked up at the canopy, your breath hitching as Neteyam leaned down to kiss and suck hungrily at your breasts. You reached up to grab his shoulders, but he caught your hands, intertwining his long fingers securely with yours, using his other hand to firmly slide your loincloth aside.
The cool air made direct contact with your slick wetness, causing you to shiver, but the chill vanished instantly as you felt his warm mouth press directly against your center.
“Oh!” you moaned aloud, bringing your free hand up to bite down on your knuckles as his tongue began to rhythmically lick and suck at your sensitive flesh.
Your chest heaved rapidly, your mind completely spinning as he continued to pleasurably devour you. The sensation was so intense you were literally shaking, your hips bucking instinctively against his mouth. Neteyam squeezed your thighs tightly, holding you perfectly in place, refusing to let you pull away until it left you completely limp and breathless.
He slowly kissed his way back up your body, hovering over you with a soft, triumphant smile as he caught your lips in a gentle kiss.
“Come back to Hometree with me tonight,” he whispered against your mouth, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.
You blinked up at him lazily, your tail twitching as shivers ran down your spine. “What are they cooking tonight?” you asked, your voice a breathless rasp.
When he told you they were roasting the exact sweet-root and river fish dish you had obsessed over the week before, your resolve crumbled instantly. You smoothed down your hair, adjusted your feathered top, and walked back to Hometree right beside him.
When you arrived, the communal area was already humming with its usual evening life. Over the last moon, the people of the clan had slowly gotten used to the sight of you walking side-by-side with Neteyam. At first, the warriors had kept their distance, watching with guarded eyes, knowing how Neteyam is with you. But seeing how you still have your relentless, bright energy with you, and that Neteyam isn’t really barring any of them from speaking to you, your friendship with them became more permanent.
That didn't mean the council was happy, though.
As you and Neteyam walked toward your seats, you could feel the heavy glares radiating from their circles. You know from the warriors that Maneya’s parents deeply disapproved of this. For generations, traditional arrangements kept the clan’s bloodlines strong and predictable. The elders had been aggressively pushing for Maneya to be his mate before the next season turned. To them, an avatar, a dreamwalker who isn’t even real, was an insult to their customs.
And let’s not talk about the fact that their Olo’eyktan was once a dreamwalker himself.
Neteyam felt the weight of those stares, but his jaw only set firmer. He guided you to the table of warriors he knew would defend you when he’s not around, ensuring you got the best cut of the roasted river fish before he excused himself, noting that his father had signaled for him near the upper dais.
Neytiri sat beside Jake, her sharp eyes tracing the silhouette of her eldest son as he approached.
“Neteyam,” Jake said, his voice quiet but carrying the heavy weight of a man who had just spent two hours listening to old men complain. “The council is still talking. Maneya’s family is pushing hard for the betrothal announcement. They want a firm answer before the next hunt.”
Neytiri stepped forward, her hand resting gently on her son’s shoulder, her gaze searching his face. “Son... are you entirely sure of this? The path you are choosing is not walked on smooth stones. She is... She does not belong with us—”
“Like Dad used to not belong?” Neteyam asked.
Neytiri tilted her head. “That is different,” she replied.
“Mother, it’s not,” he looked down at his mother, his expression softening but remaining completely unyielding. “And I am sure of her,” he added, his deep, gravelly voice carrying a profound certainty that made both of his parents still. “My whole life, I have done exactly what was expected of me. I trained until my fingers bled, I flew the sky lines and led the patrols before I was a boy of thirteen years. I was willing to follow everything you, the council, and the elders told me to do because I thought that was what a leader must be.”
He paused, his eyes drifting across to where you were sitting. You were currently mid-sentence, aggressively gesturing with a piece of sweet-root while your friends laughed loudly at whatever ridiculous story you were telling. A soft, breathless warmth passed over Neteyam’s features.
“But until her, I never chose anything for myself,” he continued, turning back to his parents. “I realized that if I allow people who do not understand my heart to decide my future, I will never be the leader this clan needs. I cannot lead a people with a hollowed being. She is what makes my heart happy. She is who I see in my future, and even if it is difficult, even if it is a mess of two worlds... I would not have it any other way. I want her, and I will keep her. I already have her, and I will not let anyone take her away from me.”
Jake let out a low breath, a small smirk of pure pride cutting through his mouth. He clapped a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. He recognized that exact, stubborn reckless look. He had worn it himself years ago. Neytiri herself had a streak of it years ago.
Neytiri watched her son, her ears twitching slightly. She looked at the determination in his posture, the fierce fire in his eyes, and despite the lingering complications, her own heart swelled with an undeniable pride. He’s no longer a boy. He was a man taking his destiny by the throat. He was a true leader.
“Go to her, then,” Neytiri murmured softly, the corner of her lips pulling into a gentle smile.
Neteyam nodded respectfully to his parents and turned, walking back down toward your table. The moment he stepped back into your peripheral vision, you looked up from your meal, flashing him a smile so bright, so full of life, that his heart did a violent, fluttering flip against his ribs.
From the dais, Jake reached out and took Neytiri’s hand in his own. Neytiri turned her head to look at her husband, squeezing his hand as an understanding smile passed between them. Her son had made his choice, and she believed in her son.
Neteyam slid onto the mat right next to you, his long arm immediately circling around your waist to pull you tightly against his side, entirely indifferent to the whispering elders above.
“Miss me, lover boy?” you teased, nudging his ribs with your elbow.
“Always,” he murmured against your ear, his grip tightening as he stole a piece of your sweet-root, his heart completely at peace.
After the feast, while you were contentedly wiping your hands, Neteyam stood up and smoothly announced, “I am walking her back to the facilities.”
He did walk you. But along the way, his hand tightened around yours, and the path you were taking led to a different one.
“Remember when you asked me about... the collective consciousness of our people?” he asked, but you were already too mesmerized by the bioluminescent weeping willow glowing purple from the distance.
“Yes,” you breathed. “That is the Tree of Souls, right?”
He held your hand and pulled you closer until you two were under its tendrils. “The collective consciousness you were talking about... I don’t understand the technicality, but it is true. Everything we are, everything we know... is in this tree,” he touched a tendril. “Our ancestors and our dead, they are here and they are never gone. They live with us in every plant and every leaf. This tree has witnessed every moment in our lives since we were born and it will keep them in this world long after we are gone.”
A soft smile cut through your lips as hot tears pricked your eyes. “That is beautiful, Neteyam... Dr. Augustine was right. She was right about everything,” you breathed, touching a glowing tendril before you turned to him.
Neteyam stepped closer, the pulsing light from the hanging tendrils illuminating the profound, worshipful softness in his eyes. He reached out, his thumb gently catching the stray tear that escaped your lashes.
“I brought you here because I want Eywa to know I am grateful that she heard me,” he whispered, carrying a solemn weight that made your breath catch. “I want my ancestors to know that my heart belongs to you. No council, no tradition, not even who you are will change that.”
Your face crumpled as your heart swelled with raw emotion, his words completely shattering whatever remaining inhibitions you had. You smiled through the tears, gathering him in your arms and wrapping them tightly around him. “My heart belongs to you, too, Neteyam. This heart and the human heart,” you chuckled, making him smile.
You leaned up and caught his lips in a deep kiss. Neteyam let out a low, gravelly rumble, his hands instantly locking onto your waist and lifting you up slightly, pinning your back flat against the massive, smooth root of the glowing tree.
“Oh,” you gasped, a wicked little smirk flashing on your face despite your breath hitching. “Look at you. Someone’s getting aggressive...”
He groaned as his head dipped, his lips abandoning your mouth to trail a path of hot, heavy kisses down your jawline and into the dip of your neck. He nipped playfully at your skin, making you shiver and giggle all at once.
His hands slid from your face, down your shoulders, his long, deft fingers untying the bindings of your top, making you raise a brow. The soft fabric fell away, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his incredibly dark, hungry gaze.
“Okay,” you whispered as his mouth closed over one peak, suckling hungrily. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his thick braids, pulling him closer. “Okay...”
He pulled back, his golden eyes burning. “Tell me what you want, my love,” he commanded gently. “Tell me how you want it.”
“I want to feel all of you inside me,” you breathed.
He smirked, standing up straighter and reaching behind him. You blinked and swallowed, watching the pink tendrils of his kuru dance as he held it up. His head tilted.
“Not happening without this,” he murmured.
You looked at him with wide eyes. “The bond... We will be—”
“Mates. I will be yours, for life,” he licks his lips. “and you will be mine. For life.” This time, his eyes darkened significantly.
A soft smile cut through your lips, reaching behind you to grab the thick plait of braid and bring it between you. “I think I want that...”
He swallowed and nodded, but he looked like he was going to melt. He held your hand and pulled you down, and once you were both kneeling under the purple glow of the Tree of Souls, he brought his kuru to bind with yours, sending an instantaneous jolt of electricity down your spine that spread through your limbs.
You have never made a bond with any creature on Pandora. You didn’t know what your kuru could do or give you if you connected it to any living being, but the rush of emotions through the bond is an unexplainable phenomenon that not even a scientist like you could come up with words for. You were feeling the absolute weight of his devotion, how you now his entire world, anchored to his soul forever.
You stared up at Neteyam and watched the gold of his eyes got nearly swallowed by the black. You smiled as the warmth of the memory of the first time he ever saw you surged through the bond, his secret admiration, and the quiet moments he spent hoping for this exact night.
This is insane, you thought. This is more than what any human would ever experience. You moved closer to him, reaching for his face and he leaned down to kiss you, wrapping his arm around you while his other hand fumbled with the ties of your loincloth around your tail. Once it’s off and you’re naked as the day you were successfully-made-and-put-in-an-amnio-tank, he lowered you down on the grass.
With a primal glint in his gaze, Neteyam pushed himself up over you, and you were treated to the view of the broad expanse of his shoulder and chest. You bit your lip as you watched him strip his own loincloth away. Your eyes snapped down when his cock sprang free, a powerful and thick column of dark indigo, engorged, and pulsing with heavy life.
Your jaw literally dropped as you stared down, your brain temporarily short-circuiting at the sheer scale of it. “Oh, sweet Lord,” you blurted out, your eyes widening as his large hand grabbed your thigh. “Hold on, timeout!” He stopped and looked at you. You bit your lip, “We need to slow down. Neteyam, honey, this body is technically a virgin and she has not trained to take an absolute monster like that! Are you trying to split her in half?”
Neteyam blinked, a sudden, hilariously confused expression fracturing his fierce look. “A... monster?” He looked down at himself, then back at you, his ears twitching in genuine bewilderment. “Yawne, it is... normal. I am normal.”
“For a nine-foot-tall, maybe!” you chuckled, though you were already biting your lip, your tail thumping against the grass excitedly as you spread your legs for him, “Alright. Go big or go home!”
He let out a breathless laugh, the sweet, adoring man returning for a fraction of a second as he gently pushed you back onto the soft grass. He hovered over you, positioning himself between your legs, his cock brushing against your slick folds and making you gasp.
“Look at me, baby,” he rough-whispered. Slowly, he began to push.
The thick head found your opening, and he pressed with a gentle, patient insistence. You whimpered, your hips arching instinctively to meet him as his shaft slowly stretched you inch by inch until he was buried completely to the hilt.
You trembled, a deep, incredibly satisfying fullness making your head spin. He paused, letting you adjust, his eyes never leaving yours as his large hands tenderly cradled your face.
“Good?” he murmured, kissing you softly.
“Yes,” you panted against his lips, your nails digging into his muscular shoulders.
He began to move with slow, deliberate thrusts, pulling almost entirely out before plunging back in. Your hips rose rhythmically to meet his, his hand locked around one of your thighs to spread you wider.
“Oh, baby,” you commanded, your voice raw. “Faster.”
He obeyed instantly. His thrusts gained a powerful, forceful momentum, his hips slamming against yours. Your breathless moans mingled with his deep, guttural grunts of pleasure. He picked up the pace, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his entire body straining with the sweet effort of pleasing you.
“I’m going to come,” you cried out, your vision blurring with white sparks.
Neteyam smiled, a primal, satisfied grin breaking across his face. He pulled back just enough to torment you, then drove back in with a powerful, precise angle that hit your sweetest spot dead-on. A loud whimper tore from your throat as your body completely seized. A violent orgasm ripped through you, your walls clenching tightly around his cock, milking him fiercely. You bucked and writhed beneath him, completely undone.
Holding you tight, Neteyam rode you over the wave of your climax, his own release building rapidly. With a final, guttural roar, he emptied his heavy warmth deep inside you, his body shuddering violently as he collapsed gently onto you, his chest heaving, his heart hammering wildly against your own.
You lay there for a long time, completely breathless, the scent of the jungle and sex heavy in the air. His cock, still buried inside you, pulsed gently as you felt the warm wetness of his seed filling you.
You let out a weak, shaky giggle, your fingers weakly patting his arm. “Okay... experiment concluded. Avatar structural integrity successfully maintained. Ten out of ten, Commander.”
Neteyam let out a soft, exhausted chuckle against your neck, kissing his way up to your lips to give you a tender, deeply sweet kiss. “Glad to hear that,” he mumbled. “I love you so much.
You stared up at him with bright eyes, grinning at him. “I love you, Neteyam.”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The link unit let out a loud, sharp hiss as soon as you are back in your body. You breathed in the slightly metallic air, your heart beating rhythmically against your ribs as you let what just happened sink in. You mated with Neteyam. You are bounded to him forever, and you know it.
Before you could even fully stretch your cramped limbs, you heard the heavy footsteps of what you know belong to the military. You rolled your eyes when three soldiers, clad in full tactical gear, appeared near your link unit.
“Jesus... do you guys ever knock? Or do they just teach you how to kick down doors at Bridgehead basic training?”
The soldier in the center stepped right up to the edge of the link bed. “You've been under for fourteen hours straight, brainiac. For someone who claims to be locked up in a dungeon by the local savages, we've noticed you log into your avatar for an awful lot of hours. Day in, day out. The data logs from this shack are lighting up the grid like a Christmas tree.”
You pulled yourself to sit up, looking at him and letting your face twist into an expression of sheer, unadulterated exhaustion. A mask you had perfected over the last months.
“Yeah, Miller, it's called survival,” you snapped, your voice raspy as you reached for a bottle of water on the side table. “I'm trying to keep the avatar alive. Those people are still feeding the damn thing, alright? They haven't chopped its head off yet because they think it's a harmless and pathetic. If I don't log back in there regularly, if I don't keep up the act of being their perfect captive, it's going to die. And then this multi-billion-dollar asset becomes completely useless to the company. Do you want to explain that loss to the board?”
Miller narrowed his eyes, leaning down until his exopack hissed near your face. “Then why the need for this relocation? If you're not hiding anything, why did you insist on moving your entire setup out to the mountains? This shack used to be within standard radius. Now you're out here in the fog.”
“Because your surveillance is loud, stupid, and they do nothing but intimidate the ones who are actually working to advance what Earth knows about this world,” you replied.
Miller sneered, but before he could step any closer, Dr. Danel stepped forward, his sharp, weathered face set in a furious glare as he planted herself directly between the soldiers and your link unit.
“That is enough, Corporal!” he said. “πou have no right to come into this facility and strong-arm us. The research division is not under the jurisdiction of General Ardmore's immediate military arm. We operate under a separate corporate charter, and I am reminding you,right now, that we are here to research, not submit to your paranoia!”
The two soldiers behind Miller shifted their weight, but Danel didn't back down an inch. He pointed a finger directly at Miller’s chest.
“Other scientists have also requested independent outposts precisely because of this toxic, suffocating surveillance from the military,” Danel continued, her chest heaving. “You are disrupting research critical for the corporation. Now, back off.”
You took the cue, leaning forward and putting on a sad face. “And that recom you guys keep talking about? He's probably dead. I've never heard of him again. In fact, the last time I saw the Na’vis pass through the lower cells, they were carrying his gear. He was shot by a heavy arrow directly to the chest. He definitely couldn't have survived that.” You let your voice crack, squeezing your eyes shut as if the memory was too painful to bear. “My avatar is surviving in a hard, cold, dark, and lonely place, Miller. You don't know what it's like for me right now. Every time I open my eyes in that body, I am surrounded by nine-foot-tall killers. I'm doing my job. What are you doing besides giving me a headache?”
From the corner of the lab, Marco immediately stepped up, patting your back with massive, exaggerated sweeps of his hand, nodding at Miller with an expression of deep, solemn sympathy. “Yeah, man. Leave her alone. Cut her some slack.”
Miller stared at you before finally letting out a harsh breath through his nose and took a step back.
“We'll be back to check the logs again next week,” Miller said, his voice dropping into a low threat. “If we find out you're doing anything other than counting leaves out here, General Ardmore will have you back in a brig at Bridgehead before sunset. Let's move out.”
The soldiers turned on their heels, exiting the shack with the same aggressive energy they had entered with. The heavy metal door slammed shut, the lock clicking into place with.
Marco immediately dropped his hands from your shoulders, letting out a massive breath. “Holy shit... that was an insane clutch, Y/N. Seriously, my heart was in my throat,” he said. “What took you so long out there? You know you can't keep this lie up for long, right? They're going to cross-reference the log feeds eventually.”
You dropped your head into your hands, your messy hair falling over your face. A deep, heavy sigh racked your small frame. “I know, Marco. I know, and... and... and...“
Dr. Danel adjusted his glasses, his eyes sharp as he looked down at your confused face. “What's going on, kid? You look like you're about to throw up.”
You bit your dry lip, slowly raising your head to look at them sheepishly. Your face felt hot, a deep flush spreading across your cheeks that had absolutely nothing to do with the link. “I... I mated with Neteyam.”
You watched their faces at the silence stretched
Marco blinked, then his jaw dropped low. “Jake Sully’s son is named Neteyam?!” he yelped.
“Jesus, what?” Dr. Danel said at the exact same time.
“Yes, his name’s Neteyam,” you told Marco, your voice squeaking slightly as you tried to look anywhere but at Dr. Danel’s gaze.
Marco burst into a sudden, loud chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s probably a Na’vi version of Nathan—”
“Right?!” you laughed, the sheer absurdity of the situation breaking through your panic. “I told him once that he looks like a Nathan! And his brother’s named Lo’ak. That's like Luke or—”
“Kid, listen to me,” Dr. Danel interrupted, his voice cutting through the laughter you were sharing with Marco, and he didn't look amused. In fact, his face had gone completely pale. “You mated with Jake Sully’s son? The firstborn?”
“Yes...” you said, your voice dropping into a small, sheepish whisper. You rubbed the back of your neck. “We... we made the bond. Under the Tree of Souls.”
Dr. Danel took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a look of profound gravity. “We can't stay here,” he said flatly.
“W-why?” you asked. “We're safe out here in the ridge, aren't we? The military barely wants to fly through the vortex fields.“
“Y/N, the Na’vi mate for life. You are his wife,” Dr. Danel said, looking at you with an intensity that made you realize the full weight of what you had done. “You cannot be his wife for only half a day and be here in a tin can for the other half. The military is out on your tail. One day soon, they will find out where you really are. And when they realize who you are to the Omatikaya now? They will use you. Or they will kill you to get to them. And that boy will not give you up.”
You bit your lip. “I really brought him trouble.”
“It could be the other way around, too. That boy has given the military a huge headache since we got back here,” he said. “He will bring them trouble. Because of you.”
You bit your lip so hard you tasted copper, your cheeks burning a violent, deep pink as the memory of Neteyam's heavy warmth and the sheer mind-melting intensity of the bond flashed through your mind. He’s so hot.
Marco narrowed his eyes at you, a teasing smirk spreading across his face as he noticed your furious blushing. He opened his mouth to make a horribly inappropriate joke about Na’vi anatomy, but he caught the look on Dr. Danel's face and remembered the severity of the situation.
“Doc, what do you mean about not staying here?” Marco asked, his tone turning serious. “Where are we supposed to go? We have tons of delicate equipment in this shack.”
“Right. Does that mean you want us to relocate directly to the Omatikaya?” you asked, your heart hammering
“Yes,” Dr. Danel answered without a single shred of hesitation. “Because you chose your life, Y/N, and we’re going to make it easy for you. We are your team. We aren't going to let the RDA turn you into a political prisoner.”
The sheer, unconditional protection in his voice brought a sudden, fierce prickle of tears to your eyes. You swallowed hard, looking at the two scientists who had become your real family on this moon.
“We need to get out of the military’s eyes altogether,” Dr. Danel continued, pacing the small width of the lab. "Disappear. I don’t see why we can’t work with Norm and Max if they'll have us. Besides, this needs to be done before the military sets their foot on our necks and keeps you hostage, which I bet will turn into something unimaginable.”
“But how?” you reasoned, gesturing around the space. “The link units are here. Our labs are here. We need everything inside this shack, we can't just leave it behind. If we disconnect the main trunk, the data will corrupt.”
“We can... we can have it airlifted,” Marco suggested, snapping his fingers. “I can ask a favor from Jason. He flies a Samson. I can bribe him with some of that real coffee we smuggled in.”
“No, we can't do that,” Dr. Danel countered immediately. “The RDA radar grid around Bridgehead tracks every single aviation signature. If a Samson flies into Omatikaya territory, they’ll trace the flight path instantly. They'll follow it right to our new doorstep.”
“Well, we can't lift a these reinforced steel container on our own, Doc,” Marco muttered, throwing his hands up. “Unless you've grown some super-strength over the weekend.“
“Wait,” you said, raising a hand, a sudden spark of an idea lighting up your brain. “I... I can talk to Neteyam. Norm and Max were already asking me to stay permanently at the human facilities. I think they'd like more brains there anyway.”
By the morrow, you’re back lying down onto the soft gel pad of the link unit and the smell of sweet, crushed moss of the forest rushed into your lungs. You opened your eyes to the sight of the crystal-like long tendrils of the Tree of Souls gently swaying above you. You felt insanely warm, feeling the heavy arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling your back flush against a broad, smooth chest that rumbled with every slow, deep breath.
Neteyam was still asleep, his nose buried deep in the crook of your neck. His tail was loosely coiled around your thigh, a subconscious anchor that held you tight even in his dreams. You shifted slightly, a breathless sigh escaping your lips as the movement instantly woke him.
Neteyam’s ears twitched, rising slowly as his golden eyes blinked open, dark and heavy with sleep. The moment he realized you were awake, a soft, incredibly tender smile broke across his beautiful features. He didn't say a word at first; he just tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single inch of air between your bodies. He dipped his head, pressing a warm kiss directly against your jawline.
“Morning,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated straight through your skin. Through the bond, you could feel the huge ball of warmth in his chest as he hugged you closer, but he also felt the sharp prick of your anxiety. He pushed himself up on his elbow to look at you. “What’s wrong?”
You turned around in his arms so you could look at him. You reached up, your long finger gently tracing the strong line of his jaw. “The— the soldiers. They came to the shack... They are uspicious over the time I'm spending in this body.”
His eyes darkened instantly, the sleepy softness vanishing, replaced by a fierce, cold steel. He sat up, his back muscles flexing. “Did they hurt you?”
“No, no,” you quickly reassured him, pulling him back down by his neck until his forehead rested against yours. “Dr. Danel and Marco stopped them. But Dr. Danel is right... we can't stay there anymore. If we stay, they'll find out I'm with you. They'll use me to get to you.”
His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “I will not let them touch you. They can’t just do that, they can’t threaten you like that anytime they want. We will relocate your outpost near here.”
“That's the problem,” you sighed, your tail twitching nervously against the grass. “If we relocate, we can't use a human helicopter. The military will track the flight path.”
His head tilted, an amused smirk on his lips. “A Samson is not the only thing that can lift a metal box, yawne.”
You blinked, your own head tilting in question.
“Toruk,” Neteyam said simply. “We must talk to Norm.”
So almost an hour of walk later, you were back at the human facilities with Neteyam standing behind you as you talk to Norm.
“The military just raided our outpost last night. They saw my log-in hours and apparently, it doesn’t look like the log-in hours of someone locked up in a dungeon,” you told him. “Dr. Danel wants to pull the plug and relocate us... here. But we have no way to transport the link shacks without the RDA tracking the Samson’s flight path..“
Norm’s expression shifted from tired to completely alert in a split second. “I knew Ardmore was going to tighten the leash. If they catch you—”
“They won’t,” Neteyam cut in. “We have a way to move their shacks.”
“But, Norm, I need to know if you have space for two more scientists... Danel and Marco are coming with me.”
“The demon we had the day Y/N came in was dead. He did not survive his wound. But the soldiers will use his ghost to hunt my mate. We must bring her people into the safety of our lands."
Your brows furrowed when Norm’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and Neteyam. “Did... did he just say mate?” Norm sputtered. “Y/N... you are mated with Neteyam?”
Neteyam’s hand snaked around your waist. “Yes. She is my mate,” he confirmed.
Norm let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Wow. Okay. Holy shit, Jake is going to have a stroke... wait, no, Jake actually predicted this, didn't he? Alright, all the more reason you need to be relocated immediately and you can be relocated here. I’ll talk to Jake.”
You let out a massive sigh of relief, your shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, Norm...”
“There is no trouble to forgive, kid,” Norm said, his expression softening into something genuinely protective. “You’ve been part of this family since you got those neural emulation codes working. Now that the tech is almost replicated, we’ve tested it for defensive patrols and it’s brilliant. You are as much a part of this resistance as any of us. And I bet you got some sweet new tech at that outpost?”
You grinned, your tail swishing with a sudden spark of pride. “Oh, we do, Norm. A whole shack of it. State-of-the-art RDA research tech we ‘forgot’ to catalog during the evacuation.”
“Perfect,” Norm grinned back. “Get your people ready. I'm going to find Jake.”
The longhouse of the Omatikaya council was an intimidating place.
When you and Neteyam entered, the atmosphere was already thick with tension. Jake Sully stood at the center, while Neytiri stood just behind him, her arms crossed over her chest. The clan elders, including Maneya's father, were gathered in a semi-circle, their faces hard and unyielding.
Norm had already briefed Jake, and the Olo’eyktan didn't waste any time.
“Y/N’s people are coming here,“ Jake announced, his eyes sweeping across the elders. “She provided us with critical intelligence, and their new technology will help us protect our borders even further. We are going to move their shacks near the human facilities.”
Instantly, an older, scarred warrior named Elder Karin stood up, his tail lashing with anger. “Toruk Makto... you allow too much sky people presence in this clan! First your dreamwalker friends, then this one who wanders our camp like a pet. Now you wish to bring more of their metal boxes into our grounds? It will put our people in jeopardy should these sky people decide to betray us to their soldiers!”
You took a step forward, the urge to defend your people fiercer than your fear. “We won’t do that, Elder Karin. We resent the military—”
“And who allowed you to speak here, dreamwalker?” a harsh voice boomed from the side of the circle. It was Maneya’s father, a warrior whose chest was covered in scars. He glared down at you as if you were an insect. “You have no voice here.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but Neteyam stepped in front of you, his entire posture shifted, his broad shoulders blocking you from the warrior's view with his towering height.
“She is allowed to speak,” Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a calm, gravelly register. He looked directly at Maneya’s father, his eyes flashing. “Y/N is my mate.”
Several elders gasped, their ears twitching violently in shock. Maneya's father stiffened, his hands clenching into fists as a low, furious hiss started in his throat. You turned your head slightly, your eyes widening in sheer panic as you stared up at Neteyam. You hadn't expected him to drop the bomb right now, in front of the entire governing body of the clan.
“I will vouch for her and her people,” Neteyam continued, his voice ringing through the cavernous space with absolute authority. “If she or they happen to betray the clan... you’ll have my head.”
“Neteyam!” both you and Neytiri shouted at the exact same time.
Your hand shot out, pressing flat against his warm chest, your fingers trembling. “Neteyam, stop, don't say that—”
He kept his eyes locked on the elders, though, his chest expanding under your palm as he took a deep breath. “I’m going to put it out there, and I mean it,” he said, his voice softening just enough for them to hear the absolute, unyielding devotion behind it. “I am not an idiot who made my choice based on petty reasons. I know who I mated with, and I will stand by my decision. Even if it costs me my life.”
Your shoulder slumped as you let out a shuddering breath. You hated the fact that your presence, your identity as a dreamwalker, was bringing this much turmoil to the man you loved. You felt like an anchor dragging him down into the mud of clan politics.
But before you could spiral into your own head, a hand covered yours where it rested on Neteyam’s chest.
You looked up, startled and saw Neytiri’s eyes on you. She squeezed your hand against her son's chest, making your heart leap into your throat. She looked back up at the council, her spine straightening as she stood by her son.
Jake Sully looked at the council. “My son made his choice.”
Jake’s decision and order were rock solid, and a few hours later, you were already riding behind Neteyam on his ikran, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso. But as you broke through the cloud cover, a massive, towering shadow loomed over the entire valley.
You looked up and saw the massive, red-and-orange beast flying through the mist, its wingspan wide enough to shadow an entire valley. Perched atop it was Jake Sully. Toruk had lifted heavy equipment before, back when the clan evacuated to High Camp years ago, and Jake knew exactly how to rig the cargo straps to the container's reinforced corner castings.
Neteyam landed his ikran smoothly on the cliff edge outside your shack. The moment his feet touched the ground, the door to the outpost opened, and Dr. Danel and Marco stepped out, both wearing their exopacks. Dr Danel stopped dead in his tracks, his lips parting slightly as he looked up at the massive form of Toruk settling onto the ridge above them. “My God... I read the reports, but seeing that thing in person... it's terrifying,” he whispered, completely starstruck.
Marco, meanwhile, was looking at you. He walked up to you, a massive grin on his face. “Oh, thank God, your avatar’s really safe," he said, reaching out to give you a huge hug. “You talk to us every day from the box, but seeing the blue version of you here is great!”
Before he could reach you, though, a large hand gently but firmly pulled you back by your elbow by just half an inch. You looked at Neteyam and saw his ears tilted slightly back, his eyes tracking Marco with a quiet, possessive intensity.
You burst out laughing, holding Neteyam’s hand. “He’s one of the scientists I’m working with. He’s like Norm,” you told him, giving him a reassuring smile.
Neteyam’s ears came back up, though his hand is now firmly anchored to your waist. He nodded once to Marco. “I am Neteyam.”
Marco looked up at the nine-foot-tall warrior, his eyes tracking from Neteyam’s broad chest down to where his hand was squeezing your waist. “N-Nice to meet you, man. I’m Marco.”
“We need to move quickly,” Jake called. Dr. Danel was already talking to him and the warriors who were in company.
They all worked together to tie the heavy cables around the container's main chassis, while you stepped inside the shack log out of your avatar, laying down on your designated bed and closing your eyes as Marco initiated the remote sleep sequence. Within minutes, the world faded to black.
A sharp hiss echoed in the shack as it depressures and you opened your eyes to Marco pulling the neural cap off your smaller head. You moved your fingers and toes, pulling yourself up. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a dark monitor screen. Your hair was a mess and your skin looked slightly pale from the lack of sunlight.
“Marco,” you muttered, fixing your top. “Do I look okay? Or do I look like a swamp monster that's been living in a basement for three weeks?”
Marco rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might clip into the back of his skull. “I don't think that man out there is going to care about your split ends, Y/N. The guy is completely head over heels for you.”
“Yeah, he's head over heels for the avatar,” you sighed, finger-combing your hair before wearing your own exopack. “He hasn't seen this version. The human who needs a plastic bubble just to breathe his air.”
“Oh, please. If he survived your personality in the blue body, he can handle your hair in this one,” Marco scoffed, punching the final release valve on the container's seals. “Let's go. They're waiting.”
The heavy metal door hissed open, and you stepped, the wind whipping around your hair as you clutched the straps of your exopack. Dr. Danel and Marco were already walking toward the two Omatikaya warriors who had volunteered to carry them on their ikrans. Neteyam, however, was standing right near the edge, finishing a quiet conversation with his father.
But the moment the door shut behind you, his eyes were on you. You stopped walking for a moment, feeling small standing there in your human clothes and the clear plastic mask covering your face. You raised your hand and gave him a little wave as you grinned mischievously.
Neteyam didn't move for a long moment, just standing there, his eyes wide, his gaze trained entirely on your face even as you walked up to him. He looked like he had just been dropped into a trance, peering down through the dark fringe of his long lashes, his eyes scanning every single detail of your features.
You cleared your throat. “Look at that height difference. It's ridiculous. Are you going to need a magnifying glass just to talk to me now, Commander?”
Jake Sully let out a loud laugh as he adjusted Toruk's harness. “That we can agree on. The height difference is a killer. Thankfully, my time only lasted like three seconds.”
Dr. Danel called out your name, waving you over to where the other warriors were preparing for takeoff. He and Jake walked toward the edge to supervise the final cable tension, leaving you and Neteyam alone on the platform.
“Why are you so silent?” you whispered, looking up at him. “Is it weird?”
Neteyam blinked, as if finally snapping out of whatever spell he was under. He shook his head, his ears tilting forward. “It is not weird,” he whispered, his deep voice carrying a soft, breathy reverence that made your stomach do a violent flip. “It is just... y-you are so beautiful, Y/N. In this body, too.”
A massive smirk broke through your face. “Will it be too cocky of me to say I already know that?” you whispered back.
Neteyam’s eyes narrowed playfully, a familiar, beautiful warmth returning to his expression. “Since when did you ever care about not being cocky, my love?”
You giggled, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his hand. He pulled you gently toward where his ikran was waiting, the large mountain banshee tracking your small movement with its sharp, intelligent eyes.
“Wow... everything out here is just so incredibly big,” you muttered, looking up at the towering wings of the banshee, then up at Toruk hovering above. Then, your head snapped back to Neteyam. “didn't specifically mean you, by the way! But... I mean, you're included in that observation.”
Neteyam let out a low, gravelly chuckle, and before you could even register what he was doing, his massive hands spanned your waist. With a single, effortless lift, he plopped you right on top of the ikran’s leather saddle.
“Oh, no! Neteyam, wait!” you shrieked, your hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth leather. “What if he decides to fly off with just me?!”
“I am right here,” he murmured, mounting behind you as he made the bond. He leaned forward, his massive chest pressing flush against your back, completely enveloping your smaller body in his warmth.
Above you, Toruk shook the rocks beneath the ridge with a massive sweep of its wings, surging upward into the fog, effortlessly lifting the metal shack into the air like it was a children's toy.
Neteyam’s ikran leaped off the ridge, plunging straight into the open sky. Your hands clamped onto Neteyam's thick, muscular forearm as it wrapped around you like a seatbelt.
“Is it tight enough?” he whispered, his deep, gravelly voice buzzing directly against your ear.
You felt a sudden, hot shiver run straight down your spine. Your mind instantly went somewhere incredibly inappropriate, remembering the way that exact same voice had sounded against your skin under the Tree of Souls the night before. You internally scolded yourself, but it didn't change the fact that your heart was pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with gravity.
“Y-yes...” you muttered, leaning back into his massive chest.
He pulled your significantly smaller body completely against his torso, shielding you from the crosswinds. The flight into the territories of the Omatikaya was fortunately uneventful, with Toruk delivering the link shacks safely into the deep part of the forest, right adjacent to the human facilities.
The moment you arrived, Norm and a handful of other scientists were waiting on the reinforced catwalks. Dr. Danel immediately stepped off his warrior's ikran to greet Norm. The two of them had worked in parallel branches of the RDA research sector years and years ago, and within five minutes, they were already animatedly talking about what could be done to hasten the project you were currently working on with them.
While they were talking, you walked toward the entrance of the newly placed container shack to prepare for your log-in. Neteyam followed you, his large hand never letting go of yours as you guided him through the narrow, heavy steel door of the shack.
“This is where I live whenever I'm back in my human body. It's not exactly Hometree, but it has good air conditioning,” you grinned, gesturing around the cramped, highly advanced laboratory space.
You showed him the primary link unit, pointing to the soft gel mattress where your human body spent hours every day. You reached up, unbuckling your human exopack and handing him a recon breather mask just in case he needed to breathe his own air. He held the it with immense curiosity, his large fingers turning it over like a puzzle, telling you he really wasn’t one to spend a lot of time in the human facilities.
Neteyam walked around the small lab, his long tail sweeping carefully behind him to avoid knocking over any glass beakers or computer monitors. He was fascinated by everything, his golden eyes wide as you excitedly rambled on about your job.
“Alright, let me show you how I link back to my avatar,” you grinned, taking a step toward the link bed.
But before your foot could even touch the frame, Neteyam’s hand caught your elbow. With a gentle, effortless tug, he pulled you back toward him. He leaned against the heavy metal workbench, his massive form still towering over you even while semi-reclined.
“Don't link back yet,” he whispered, his voice dropping into that quiet, possessive register that always made your knees weak. He looked down at your small human hands, his long blue fingers gently weaving through yours. “Besides... isn't this the time allotted for your human body? The time you must rest?”
You bit your lip, looking up at him. “Yeah... it is. I just thought... well, I thought it would be better if I logged back in so I could be almost as tall as you again.” you rolled your eyes.
Neteyam let out a soft, low chuckle. His large hands moved from your fingers to your waist, his grip warm as he pulled you directly between his long legs. You stood there, completely bracketed by him.
“It does not matter,” he said softly. “I really like this version, too. You are... very cute.”
“Cute?!” you gasped, your eyes as you let out a defensive chuckle. “Excuse me, Commander, I am not a puppy! You just don't know, but for humans? I'm actually considered really hot. Like, premium tier.”
Neteyam’s playful smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening. “I can see that...” he mumbled, his voice turning hoarse as his hand on your waist caressed your curve against the fabric of your tank top. “Did... did any man back at Bridgehead tried?”
“No,” you whispered, looking directly into his intense gaze. “I'm not really fond of soldiers.”
His brow raised, his head tilting slightly in question. “No?”
You pushed your lips forward into a little pout, your small human hands pressing flat against his hard, heavily muscled abdomen. “No. But... I find I have a massive thing for nine-foot-tall blue warriors who can hit a bull's eye with a longbow even with his eyes closed. Which is so much cooler than being a trigger-happy moron with a rifle.”
Neteyam’s chest rumbled with a deep purr. You leaned your head all the way back, reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss him, and he lowered his massive head instantly, his lips crashing down onto yours with an explosive, hungry heat. He pulled you flush against his frame, his large hands anchoring you to his hips as the kiss deepened, your small human mouth completely consumed by his.
Suddenly, the heavy pneumatic door of the shack hissed open with a loud rush of air.
“Hey, Y/N, we need to calibrate the secondary—” Norm’s voice cut off instantly.
He and Dr. Danel stood in the doorway, both freezing mid-step. You immediately pushed against Neteyam’s chest, breaking the kiss and stumbling back a step, immediately starting to talk about the project. Neteyam just stood there, entirely unbothered, a smug, deeply satisfied smirk gracing his lips as he looked over your head at the two older scientists.
They had definitely seen everything they needed to see.
For the next two weeks, the human facilities became a furnace of pure, collaborative energy.
You lived with Neteyam in the hut you two share as a mated couple, slowly integrating as a member of the clan now. You sleep wrapped in his arms every single night on the soft woven mats, but during the days, you, Dr. Danel, and Marco worked tirelessly between the link shacks and the main human labs.
You stretched, waking up slowly to the sight of golden light filtering through the kelku, dappling inside the room. Neteyam's chest vibrated against your shoulders. He was holding you tightly, his arms locked around your waist, his long tail resting over your hip.
You craned your neck, pressing a soft kiss to his chin as your own tail gently curled around his thigh. “Wake up, lover boy...”
Neteyam buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he pressed a kiss against your soft skin. He pulled himself up, pulling you in for a deep kiss. “I’ll walk you to the shack.”
You pushed your lips forward, “You have morning patrol,” you reminded him.
“Which wouldn’t be for an hour,” he reasoned, grabbing your loincloth near you and pulling the soft covers off your naked body. “Do we have time?” he asked, dipping his head low to start kissing your jaw.
“No, Commander. No, we don’t,” you said sweetly, kissing his cheek as you grabbed your top.
He groaned, pressing his nose against your neck as he hugged you. “If they want me out there, they’ll need to perfume the air with your smell because I’ve been needing a day with just this,” he drawled, kissing your neck.
“Other things can be done, you know...” you whispered, pushing yourself up on your elbow and gathering your hair.
He lifted his head up, his hot gaze dropping down to you licking your lips.
An hour later, you were standing in the lab with Dr. Danel, Norm, Max, and the other scientists. Jake Sully came the moment Norm called him to see the finish product of what you all have worked on in the past months. Jake held up a small, heavily modified metallic strip between his fingers.
“Alright. I understand that the emulator we brought Y/N months ago will help us hide our tracks during raids... This will do that?”
Norm nodded, “Yes. We managed to reverse-engineer the emulation codes. The raiding party could wear these tags, and when they hit the weapon’s transports, the sensor perimeters would send out a false-positive loop back to Bridgehead. To their automated automated tracking systems, we will be friends, not foes.”
Jake nodded. “This is a game changer, Norm, Y/N, Max,” he said. “We’ll try this in the next raid.”
“Jake, there isn’t a hundred-percent guarantee that it would work but we have tried running tests,” Max told him.
Jake shrugs, “It could make a difference or it could not. Besides, we’ve been doing the raids without this for so long, but if it works, it will be great.”
The rest of that day and the following one were spent in a whirlwind of intense preparation. The war party was mobilizing for a massive raid on an RDA weapons railcar, while Neteyam stayed back at the lab with you that evening to finalize the deployment coordinates. With Dr. Danel and Marco asleep in their own modules, you two spent the night tangled together in your avatar’s cot.
Your avatar was back at Hometree though. It’s you in your human form that he’s holding with an incredible, fragile tenderness, his massive hands mapping every curve of your smaller body as you made out in the quiet dark.
You pressed your palm against his solid chest, moaning as he deepened the kiss, sucking at your tongue. You caressed the braids on his nape, caressing his soft skin as you moved your hips against him. You two eventually fell asleep, you with your head nestled perfectly into the crook of his collarbone and him with his arms wrapped around you tightly.
The next morning, you woke up with your hair completely messy and wild. Neteyam sat up beside you, looking down at your birds-nest hair and bursting into a sudden, booming laugh.
“Oh, shut up!” you huffed, throwing a pillow at his chest. “I did ask you for a haircare secret and you didn't give me anything! You just naturally look like a supermodel while I look like a troll!”
Neteyam laughed even harder, his massive arms reaching out to scoop your body back against his chest. He buried his large face into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing warm, heavy kisses against your skin as he held you tight. “You are beautiful,” he mumbled happily. “Always.”
You prepared for the day, sitting on the soft gel of your link unit and leaning up to kiss him. “See you at Hometree, Commander,” you murmured.
“See you there, my love,” he replied.
You lay back down onto the link unit, pulling the neural cap over your head and sliding into the dark.
When your avatar opened its eyes back at Hometree, your ears picked up on the buzzing sound from the lower branches humming with intense energy. Before you could even stretched, someone suddenly bounded into the kelku, and when you looked up, you saw Tuk with her tail swishing with frantic excitement as she grabbed your large hand.
“Y/N! Come on! Come on! The war party is assembling downstairs! You have to be there!”
“Why should I be there, Tuk?” you mused with a grin, letting the young girl drag you down the winding root pathways of the tree. “I'm just the tech support.”
“Because!” she beamed, pulling you right into the center of the clearing.
The moment you stepped into the communal clearing, you saw the warriors sharpening their arrows, checking the straps on their bowstrings, and preparing their war paint. Your eyes caught Neteyam who just entered the clearing, too, his knife sheath secured in his chest and his longbow strapped across his back. The second he saw you, he walked straight through the crowd, ignoring the lingering stares of the elders. He caught your waist, pulling you tightly against him, and dipped his head to kiss you hard and deep.
Tuk giggled loudly, running up beside you two with two small clay bowls filled with thick yellow and turquoise paint. “Here! His war paint!”
You chuckled, taking the bowls from her. Neteyam pulled you into a quiet, shaded corner of the clearing, sitting down on a low ledge. You dipped your fingers into the cool, turquoise paste, carefully drawing the sharp, traditional lines across his high cheekbones and down the powerful expanse of his chest.
Neteyam watched you the entire time, his golden eyes filled with an intense, quiet devotion. As you finished the last line on his shoulder, he reached down, pressing your hand into the bright yellow paint. His eyes locked onto yours as he pressed your painted palm directly over the center of his chest, leaving a perfect yellow print of your five-fingered hand on his skin.
“My heart is your,“ he whispered.
Your chuckled, you ought to tease him for being too cheesy, but your throat tightened with emotion. You leaned up and kissed him hard. “Come home to me safe, Neteyam.”
Turns out, the raid was an absolute success.
The RFID tags worked perfectly, completely blinding the RDA’s automated sensors as the war party swooped down on the railcar, securing several crates of advanced weaponry and medical supplies without a single casualty.
That evening, the celebration at Hometree was wild and loud. Fire blazed in the center of the clearing and the sound of drums and laughter echoed through the canopy. Even Dr. Danel and Marco had come up from the labs, wearing their exopacks and socializing with the other scientists and warriors.
You danced and drank with Kiri and your friends, laughing until your sides ached, completely lost in the joy of the victory.
Suddenly, a large hand slid around your waist from behind, stealing you away from the group, his arm pulling you into a slow, rhythmic sway near the edge of the firelight. You looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you moved together to the beat of the drums.
“Aren't you going to police my schedule, Commander?” you whispered teasingly, your eyes sparkling. xAren't you going to talk about how I've been in the avatar for too many hours and need to log out now?”
“No,” Neteyam mumbled, his head dipping down until his lips brushed against your ear. “Because we are still having fun... and I want to hold my wife.”
You smirked, a wicked, playful thought lighting up your brain. You leaned up, your tongue darting out to lick at your lips. “Except... we could also have a different kind of fun back at the shack, Neteyam... with my human body.”
Neteyam’s head reared back instantly. His golden eyes widened, a sudden, intense heat flashing across his face as his ears twitched violently. “What... what are you talking about?” he mumbled, his voice dropping an entire octave.
You narrowed your eyes playfully, raising a brow. “What, you've never thought about it? Doing it while I'm in my real skin...”
“I... I did, but—... but— but I—" Neteyam stammered, his usual cool, commanding demeanor completely fracturing. He swallowed hard, his jaw tight. “No. Y/N... you are so small. I—I would not want to hurt you.”
You pulled him closer, leaning up to let your lips brush teasingly against his jaw. “Oh, we are so going to the shack right now.”
You squeezed his shoulder, brushing your fingers down his arm before intertwining your fingers with his. You pulled him toward the exit, chuckling softly when he let himself be dragged without a single shred of resistance.
You two walked down the winding wooden ramp that led down to the forest floor, and you were about to start the trek toward the human facilities on foot when Neteyam gently steered you in a different direction toward the direhorse stables.
“Wow, someone's excited,” you teased, your tail swinging in wicked loops as he swiftly freed his direhorse out from the tether.
Before you could even finish the sentence, his large hands clamped onto your waist and plopped you effortlessly onto the back of the beast, making you shriek in surprise. He then mounted the direhorse behind you, his powerful chest locking you into place as he made the bond. With a sharp command, the direhorse surged into the jungle, sprinting toward the human facilities.
When you arrived, you went into the shack and he tailed behind you. He helped you initiate the log out by depressurizing the link unit. The moment your human eyes opened, you pushed the neural cap off and sat up. Neteyam was already standing right beside the link unit, his massive, nine-foot-tall frame making the small room feel even smaller.
You grinned up at him, sliding off the gel mattress. “Oh, I can see those gears turning in your head...” you teased, stepping closer to him. Your smaller hand reached out, sliding down the smooth skin of his muscled abdomen, tracing the line down toward the lower part of his waist.
Neteyam’s hand shot out like lightning though, his large hand gently but firmly catching your wrist, stopping it. “No...” he rough-whispered, his chest heaving. “It won’t be involved, Y/N,” he widened his eyes. “It’s too dangerous for you.”
You rolled your eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Boo! Coward,” you teased, leaning your head all the way up.
Neteyam immediately leaned down even as he was still chuckling, his lips crashing onto yours with a fierce, burning intensity. He wrapped his massive arms around your back and hauled your small body clean off the unit. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs tightly around his massive, muscular torso, your fingers tangling in his thick braids as the kiss deepened, turning hard and desperately hungry.
He started walking blindly toward your curtained nook in the back of the shack, his eyes closed as he consumed your mouth. A loud noise echoed as Neteyam’s head hit the corner of a storage cupboard. He winced, letting out a sharp grunt as his ears pinned back in irritation as he lowered you down onto your mattress.
You broke the kiss, your brows furrowed in worry as you caressed his head. “Are you okay?” you asked, looking at the cupboard. “Be careful, baby...” you leaned up to press soft kisses on the side of his lips. “Hm?”
His groan vibrated in his chest as he hovered over you, his massive frame blocking out the light for you as his head dipped back down. He kissed your jawline, his lips trailing down to nip playfully at the soft skin of your neck, making you squeal and squirm beneath him.
You two kissed and kissed, the heat between you rising rapidly. You reached down, catching his massive hand from where it rested on your waist, and guided it upward, placing his large palm directly over your breast.
“When are you going to touch them?” you mumbled against his lips.
Neteyam let out a deep, guttural groan. His massive hand, which easily covered your entire breast, cupped the ample curve through your tank top. He squeezed it with a careful pressure and a moan escaped your throat, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you kissed him harder.
Suddenly, he pulled his head back, his eyes wide with genuine awe as he kneaded your chest. “It... it is so soft,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. He brought his other hand up, carefully cupping and kneading both of your breasts through the fabric. “Your skin...is like silk.”
You smiled, your hips arching slightly as you reached down, pulling the hem of your tank top up and sliding it over your head, tossing it onto the floor. You heard Neteyam take in a ragged breath, his eyes locking onto your chest before he kissed the swell of it
“Come on!” you whisper-shouted. “You didn't even appreciate my lace bra! I wore the fancy one!”
Neteyam blinked, his head tilting in complete confusion. “Your... what?”
You pushed his massive chest back gently, sitting up slightly and arched your back. A hungry, predatory look were on his eyes as his gaze caressed your body.
“This is the equivalent of a really banging top right now. It’s really sexy,” you mumbled.
A low, dark chuckle escaped his lips. You reached for the latch in the center of your chest, unclasping it and freeing your breasts completely. You watched him lick his lips wet, his ears pinning flat against his head. He lowered his massive head, his warm mouth enveloping one peak as his large fingers gently fondled and squeezed the other.
An intense, scorching rush of liquid heat gushed out between your thighs as he suckled and fondled on them, making you let out a breathless whimper, your hands cradling his head as he enjoyed you.
After what seemed like hours, he left your breasts with their pebbled tips swollen and red, his lips trailing down your abdomen. You reached down, your thumbs hooking on your sweatpants and underwear to roll it off your hips. Following your lead, he pulled it further down and you kicked it off your legs. Neteyam shifted, his massive hand coming down to grip your thigh, his calloused fingers firmly spreading your legs wide on the bed.
You saw him lick his lips as he looked down at your pussy, his hand reaching down to gently caress your velvety, slick folds with his thumb. His golden eyes peered up at you through his lashes, burning with an unadulterated, primal hunger. You bit your lip, nodding to him. Neteyam then leaned down, his mouth pressing directly against your pussy.
You took in a sharp breath, your fingers clutching the bedsheets as his tongue began to lick and kiss you with an incredible devotion he’s already showed you in your avatar body. He ate you out like you were his absolute favorite meal, his deep groans vibrating directly against your core as he licked and suckled at your soft nub. Slowly, carefully, he slid one finger inside you, testing your slick warmth.
“Neteyam...” you panted, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth. “More...”
He added a second finger, his mouth and hands working together in a flawless perfect rhythm until your legs were shaking violently and your entire body seized in a shattering orgasm. You bucked against his hand, completely undone.
Once the waves settled, he hovered back over you, his chest heaving. Your hand shot out, reaching down between his legs to palm his hardened cock. He let out a loud groan, his knees buckling slightly against the frame of the bed.
“Take it out, baby...” you mumbled, your voice thick with desire. “I'll take care of it.”
You reached behind him, helping him untie the bindings of his loincloth. The moment he shed the fabric, his cock sprang free. An impossibly long and thick column of azure, engorged and already licking at the tip. You swallowed hard, pushing yourself up on your elbows. You leaned forward, placing the wide head of his shaft against your lips. You peered up at him through your lashes as you began to lick the sweet essence from the tip, your small hand working the incredible length of his shaft as far down as you could reach.
You tilted your head, moving your mouth to take more of him in, but you could barely get half of it past your lips before your mouth felt completely stuffed. Neteyam let out a loud moan, his hand coming up to grip your hair gently as he carefully moved his hips against your mouth, dragging his length in ths slick warmth of it before gently pulling it out.
His breath was ragged as he started pumping himself with his hand, his other hand firmly keeping your thighs spread wide on the mattress.
He grunted, his body trembling. You reached up, wrapping your small hand around his heavily muscled forearm.
“Put it inside me, Neteyam...” you whispered, your eyes locked onto his. “Please...”
Neteyam bit his lip, his expression fracturing with conflict. He looked terrified of breaking you, but the burning desire to be inside you was written across every inch of his face. You squeezed his forearm when he lowered his hips carefully between your legs.
“Hips up, beautiful...” he said in a low command, his large hand sliding under you to lift your hips off the bed.
You bit your lip as the massive, wide head of his shaft began to nudge against your sensitive, aching folds. You knew there was absolutely no mathematical way his entire length would fit inside you, but you didn't care. You whimpered as the head pushed past your opening, stretching you incredibly wide, while Neteyam let out a deep, guttural grunt as the intense warmth and tightness of your walls embraced him.
You looked down, watching in sheer pleasure as his thick blue cock spread your pussy lips so wide that a huge amount of your own wetness was coating him. His calloused thumb reached down to softly rub your clit as he gently eased himself. His other hand kneaded your soft breast before lowering his head to kiss you deeply.
He stopped pushing in just right, knowing your body's limit. Then, he began to move, dragging his cock in and out of you in a careful, agonizingly slow pace. You kept your back arched, offering your breasts to his mouth. He caught one peak between his lips, suckling hungrily as his hips thrust rhythmically against yours.
“You are... so tight...” he groaned against your skin, his bites turning hard and nipping at the flesh of your breast. “So fucking good, baby.”
“You're just... so big...” you whimpered, tears of sheer pleasure pricking your eyes as you felt every single ridge and vein of his cock molded perfectly against your soft walls.
The intense friction was too much for him to withstand in your tight core that within a few more deliberate thrusts, he let out a loud, primal grunt, his entire body shuddering violently as he spilled his heavy, warm release deep inside you. He carefully pulled out, gripping his throbbing shaft tight as he shivered, painting your pussy with the warmth of his release.
You lay there panting, your fingers caressing his lower abdomen before you u reached down to scoop a dollop of the warm, thick fluid onto your fingers and bring it up to your mouth, licking it off with a playful smirk.
Neteyam let out a low purr, his large hand reaching out to give your breast a squeeze as he smiled down at you. He lowered his head, catching your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he groaned happily.
Suddenly, your eyes snapped wide open. You gasped, aggressively pushing his massive chest away.
Neteyam blinked, looking entirely confused as he sat back on his heels. “What? What is it, my love?”
You scrambled across the bed, your hands frantically grabbing the calendar pad off your nightstand. You stared at the glowing green matrix on the screen, your face turning completely pale.
“What?” Neteyam asked again, his ears tilting forward in concern.
“I'm fertile,” you mumbled in English, blinking up at him with wide, bewildered eyes.
Neteyam’s brow furrowed, his head tilting in confusion. “Fertile? As in good soil?”
“No, me. I’n fertile. I could get pregnant," you said, your face a mix of pure shock and panic. “Like... baby pregnant.”
Neteyam’s head reared back instantly, his ears pinning completely flat against his head. A look of genuine alarm flashed across his face, and he immediately pressed his massive hand flat against your soft belly, as if protecting it. “Baby... no. You won't survive it.”
“I know, oh my goodness,” you said, biting your lip, but as the panic subsided, a sudden realization began to click in your brain. You let out a small, breathless chuckle, patting his massive hand. “But wait... don't worry. It's actually highly impossible for it to happen.”
Neteyam blinked, his ears perking up slightly. “Impossible? Why?”
“Because science,” you nodded at him. “My human immune system will immediately recognize your biological material as a foreign, alien pathogen. The moment it enters my system, my white blood cells are going to launch an assault and attack it. Your little soldiers don't stand a chance against my white blood cells.”
Neteyam stared at you for a long three seconds, processing the complex jargon, before a look of profound, worshipful adoration washed over his beautiful features. He let out a low, rumbling chuckle, leaning down to press a deep, tender kiss right where your forehead met your messy hair.
“You are such a genius, baby,” he murmured against your skin.
You pursed your lips, grinning up at him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Small thing, Commander. That's exactly what brought me to this world in the first place.”
Neteyam smiled, his large arms wrapping completely around your small frame, pulling you close against his chest as the rain began to patter softly against the reinforced steel roof of the shack. “I love your brain,” he whispered adoringly, his golden eyes shining in the dark. “I love you. I love you very much, Y/N.”
You grinned, burying your face into his warm chest, your heart completely at peace. “I love you too, Neteyam.”
aang x reader, fem!reader, modern!au, camp counselor!au, mutual crushing, summer romance, aang confesses his crush, first kiss, implied smut but nothing graphic, sweetheart!aang x sunshine!reader, fluff
words: 1.6k
lowercase intended, kind of proofread
synopsis: aang signs up to be a camp counselor because it seemed fulfilling to shape young minds, or whatever. he doesn’t expect to become smitten with you, the bubbly counselor of his sister cabin. friendship bracelets are made, relationships are tested in flag football
a/n: dude come onnnnnn, camp counselor aang???? you’re shitting me. this came to me in a dream, please enjoy it.
when aang applied to be a camp counselor at camp cypress, he thought it would be a fun summer job with his friends. he’d heard, from the camp counselors that tabled on campus at his university, that it had been such a meaningful experience and that they’d made an impact on so many kids. aang thought that was right up his alley, what with him being a good spiritual mentor (or so he’s been told).
he didn’t expect to become so smitten with you, the counselor for the middle elementary aged girls. you, who wore neon ribbons in your hair and traded friendship bracelets with the girls in your cabin like they were sacred oaths.
aang found any reason to be near you, which was easy enough since he was the counselor for your brother cabin. you two sat across from each other in the mess hall, surrounded by your eight year old campers.
“miss teacher,” one of them hollered in a squeaky voice. “miss teacher, do you have a crush on anyone?”
aang didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed at the question. “no, i don’t,” you answered cordially, sneaking a glance at aang’s disbelieving expression. “min-li, do you have a crush?” you asked her back. she looked in the direction of one of the boys from aang’s cabin then vigorously shook her head.
you and aang looked at each other and laughed. when everyone finished eating, you and aang stood at the front of the mess hall and called for your cabins to line up to go out for arts and crafts.
you stood and inch apart, and aang could have sworn to the spirits that there was an electric current flowing between you.
he nudged you with his shoulder. “so you don’t have a crush on anyone?”
“none that min-li needs to know about,” you said, blush creeping across your cheeks.
“and can i know?” aang asked.
your conversation was juvenile, more like one that the girls of your cabin would have with one another, but aang gave you a giddy and childish feeling.
so, you smiled sweetly. “no. you can’t know,” you said as the kids lined up in front of you. “we’re going to be late for our crafts rotation.”
aang sat at a table with his campers in the crafts cabin. while they made sun catchers out of plastic plates, glue, and tissue paper, aang worked on beading a friendship bracelet for you.
while his nimble fingers wove the clear string through pearlescent beads, he thought of the conversation he’d had with sokka earlier that week during his allotted slot with the one phone at camp cypress.
he had looked around the office to make sure you weren’t lurking in the hallway somewhere to overhear him gushing about you. “sokka, you have no idea how beautiful this girl is,” he had said to his friend. “she’s like, i dunno, sunshine. just like, bright and bubbly and perfect.”
“too bad you’ll never see her again after this summer,” sokka had teased him.
the thought had bugged him, because how could someone like you only exist to aang for two short months.
“maaybe she doesn’t mind long distance,” aang had said to sokka. then it occurred to him, he didn’t know where you went to college, or even where you were from.
he could almost hear sokka’s face flatten. “right, because you’re mister long distance.”
aang had scoffed into the phone. “hey, i am faithful!”
“yeah, but imagine you can’t see your girlfriend or touch her,” sokka had dutifully pointed out. “you wouldn’t be able to kiss her or take her out to dinner. if you ask me, you’d be like a puppy who loves to get kicked.”
aang had rolled his eyes. “remind me to tell katara to keep momo away from you,” he said.
now, he watched you as you showed the girls of your cabin how you made a heart out of the tissue paper on your plate. you helped the young girls shape their paper into stars and hearts and fun swirling patterns as aang watched you, enraptured by every word you said. plus, as you bent over the table to help them, he got a decent view of your cleavage through the gap between your shirt’s chopped off collar and your chest, so that was nothing to complain about.
when he finally snapped out of his reminiscence, aang looked up to see that you were standing behind him.
“that’s really pretty,” you cooed. “i love those beads. i thought we were all out of them.” you frowned as you looked at the pearlescent beads on the bracelet he was making.
aang cleared his throat and his cheeks flushed, flustered you were standing so close. “oh, thanks. um, it’s for you.”
he watched as your eyes lit up. “really?” you asked excitedly, gaining a few stares from the girls in your cabin. “awww, thank you aang.”
“miss teacher soooooo has a crush on counselor guy,” you heard min-li say in her singsongy tone to the other girls.
you rolled your eyes. “are you looking forward to flag football?” you asked aang as he tied the completed bracelet to your wrist.
“ready to kick your butt,” aang teased.
you snorted. “i don’t think you’ve seen min-li play any kind of semi-contact sport. that girl is insane.”
aang paused for a minute, watching you admire the bracelet he’d made for you. “want to make a little bet?” he whispered.
“sure, why not?” you chirped. “it’s not like i’m gonna lose.”
he admired your cockiness, amongst other things. “if the boys win, you have to sit with me at dinner and answer all my questions about your life,” aang said. this seemed like a sure fire way to get to know you (because apparently just asking wasn’t an option). “and, well, what do you want if you win?”
quietly, you thought it over. “i get all of your dessert until the end of camp and you have to make me a picnic,” you answered jovially. “and the same, questions and blah blah blah.”
aang stuck out his hand and you shook on it. win or lose, aang would get to learn more about you, and you would either get dessert until your colorful plaid shorts no longer fit, or better company than your eight year olds for dinner.
either way, it seemed to be a win-win for both of you.
later that evening, the elementary cabins met in the large field, surrounded by the forest’s tree line. you helped the girls clip their flag belts on while aang helped the boys. when you were ready, both of your teams lined up facing the other in the center of the field. at the sound of aang’s whistle, most of the campers jetted off toward the perimeter of the field. you followed in the direction of a group of boys as you watched min-li zipping through the field, snatching blue flag belts from the boys as they lobbed the foam football to one another.
soon, it got down to aang, you, and seventy-five percent of your cabin. aang firmly held onto the ball as he expertly dodged the little girls trying to yank the flag from his waist.
you winked at min-li, who dropped to the ground and yelped in pain. aang was closest to her, so he tucked the ball under his arm and started to bend down to check on her.
“actually, i think i’m fine,” she said quickly, as you moved into position behind aang. “i think i just tripped on a root or something.”
before he could run away, you tapped aang on his shoulder. aang spun to face you as you reached out and yanked the belt off his waist. “i win.”
one of the boys screamed across the field. “that’s no fair, these ladies cheated!”
“meelo, let’s not be sore losers,” aang tutted. “these ladies won fair and square.”
you leaned in close to aang and sang in his ear, “and i won your desserts.”
after everyone washed up for dinner, you and aang convinced two of your fellow counselors to supervise your cabins so you sneak into the woods for your picnic. surrounded by the stunning landscape of the forest you and aang interrogated each other for hours.
he asked where you lived (republic city), where you went to school (ba sing se university), if you had any siblings (one sister and one brother), were your parents still married (no, they weren’t). he asked you what your favorite color was, if you’d seen any good movies lately, if you had a favorite number, how did you like your wear your hair most often, did you prefer to shop at a mall or order online.
eventually, when you both exhausted the questions of things you wanted to know about each other, aang leaned across the blanket to kiss you. it was a deep, passionate kiss. the kind your friends warned you might ruin your life when you told them you were going off to be a camp counselor. aang leaned you back on the blanket, his hands exploring your body, slipping under your shirt as the stars twinkled gorgeously so above you.
you went back to your cabin that night with flushed cheeks and tousled hair. your tinted lip balm was smeared on the skin around your lips, and you thanked the spirits that all your campers were asleep. as you drifted off to sleep, you dreamed of the way aang’s hands trailed over your skin, the way his fingertips set you ablaze, and you dreamed that there was a world in which you could tell him you loved him.
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