⟡ 𑁍ࠬܓsomething about your mate looks different. when you figure out what it is— and steal it, he chases you through the forest.
✶ fem! na’vi reader, sfw, playful neteyam, established mates, fluff, humor, slice of life, neteyam catches you easily because it’s neteyam.
✶ m.list
It’s midday when you fear Eywa’s cursed you— leaving you wondering if you’re going blind when you mistake Neteyam for Lo’ak.
Your mate is crouched down, tending to the fire in the communal base of the kelutral, steady and silent, graceful. As you walk by on your way to the forest, you double take.
He doesn’t notice your presence at first. You stopping to stare at him with narrowed eyes, ears dipping low. He looks…different. You can’t pinpoint it.
Neteyam glances your way as the distance between you vanishes. You circle him, poking his arm, his head. Neteyam laughs, allowing you to continue without complaint.
He’s wearing the same necklace, the same armband—
His braids.
They’re pulled back, wrapped in a cloth tie.
“Something caught your eye, ma sevin?” Neteyam’s voice is full of amusement.
You shift to stand behind Neteyam, who adds more wood to the fire. “Your braids.” The cloth tie is soft when you touch it, hooking your finger underneath, tugging gently. “I thought you were Lo’ak.”
“That is the rudest combination of words to ever spill from your tongue.”
You laugh, a lightbulb going off in your brain. The tie comes apart easily as it’s stolen, and you dance a few steps away from him, dangling the cloth like a prize. “There. Now you are handsome again.”
Neteyam’s smile reveals itself in the way his cheek curves— he thinks he’s subtle. “Give it back.” His voice is dead calm, serious. When he lifts his gaze to meet yours, the playful glint gives him away.
You take a slow step back, grin widening, daring him to follow. “Come get it.”
Neteyam rises to his feet. He doesn’t move, and the air charges between you. He grins. “Run,” he says softly.
Like an ikran, you take flight— feet barely brushing the forest floor as you run. Wind tears through your hair, laughter spilling from your chest as you demand burning legs to move faster.
Neteyam’s footsteps close in, and heat blooms beneath your skin, leaves crunching as they are pulverized. You don’t dare look over your shoulder. It’s a matter of when he catches you, not if.
You live for the split second before he does.
Strong arms suddenly wrap around your waist, and the world tilts as you’re spun in a circle. You gasp, a loud peel of laughter escaping.
Neteyam plants you on your feet, lips warm against your ear as he murmurs—
“Caught you, ma sevin.”
He squeezes you in a tight hug, the thundering of his heart pounding against your spine. “I let you win,” you say, breathless and giddy.
“Yeah?” He traces the sweaty line of your throat with his nose, planting a soft, open mouthed kiss to your shoulder.
Synposis: Everyone knows Neteyam, the perfect son of Jake Sully, will choose someone strong, admired, and worthy of becoming his mate. But, No one expects him to walk past every confident girl in the Omatikaya… and stop in front of the quiet girl who smells like flowers and keeps to herself. Y/N has always believed she would stand alone during the Choosing Ceremony. What she never expected is him to look at her, let alone choose her.
ⵌ Genres : Fluff, Soft romance, Fantasy. 𖹭.ᐟ
ⵌ I forgot that I have this on my drafts :b
ⵌWarning! Cringe ahead, read at your own risk :b!
ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ 𝐓he soft light of Pandora’s twin suns dappled through the Hometree, painting shifting patterns across the woven mats of Y/N’s small corner. Seventeen cycles, a lifetime for some, yet for her, it felt like a quiet drift. The air, thick with the scent of earth and distant, sweet blossoms, offered a familiar comfort. Her fingers, nimble and stained with pollen, carefully arranged a group of vibrant blue petals in a clay bowl. She had no talent for the hunt, her arrows often finding only empty air, nor did the intricate dance of the loom yield to her touch. Even the mighty Ikran, soaring symbols of freedom and power, remained a distant dream, their calls echoing a world she felt forever outside of.
Other girls in her age, their laughter ,often gathered near the communal fire. "Look at her, still picking weeds," one would mock, her voice carrying across the clearing. "Who would ever choose a mate so useless?"
Another, her hand already intertwined with a young hunter’s, would add, "She’ll grow old alone, a withered bloom with no one to cherish her."
Y/N heard them, always. The words, like pebbles skipping across a still pond, created ripples of quiet acceptance within her. She offered them only a soft, almost faint smile, her eyes, the color of twilight moss, holding no malice, only a profound, gentle understanding. It was this quiet resilience, this serene detachment, that seemed to fuel their teasing further.
Her world was small, confined to the tender care of her grandmother, whose old hands had taught her the names of every root and leaf, every flower that release its delicate petals to the sun. Her parents, a brave warriors, had fallen during the Sky People’s first brutal assault, leaving Y/N with a history of quiet grief and an affinity for the natural world that a few would understood.
One day. One day until the Ceremony of Choices, a crucial moment in every Na'vi’s life. It was a time when hearts declared themselves, when futures intertwined. A single flower, offered with purpose, could signify friendship, respect, or, most profoundly, love, binding two souls as mates under Eywa’s watchful gaze. And then, the first dance, a public declaration, followed by the sacred blessing.
Everywhere, the energy would hummed with anticipation. Girls, their faces alight with hopeful dreams, gathered armfuls of exotic blossoms. "He looked at me yesterday, I swear," a hunter’s daughter boasted, her chest puffed out.
"Don’t be foolish, he only has eyes for me," another countered, her voice dripping with practiced charm. "His mother smiled at me just this morning."
Then came the confident, almost grand voice of Tskaha, her posture stiff with self-importance. "You all waste your breath. Neteyam will choose me. It has always been understood."
Y/N, nestled amongst a tangle of bioluminescent vines, simply continued to trace the veins of a newly uncurled leaf. Tskaha's sharp eyes, however, found her. "Still playing with dirt, Y/N? No wonder no one will ever bother to offer you even a friendship bloom". Tskaha's companions snickered, their laughter harsh.
Y/N merely tilted her head, her gaze serene, and offered another soft smile. Then, she turned, her movements as fluid as water, and walked away, the taunts fading behind her like a forgotten breeze.
The forest, deep and ancient, was Y/N’s sanctuary. She knew its hidden paths, its secret glades where the rarest flowers bloomed, their colors a symphony unheard by most. This particular morning, she ventured deeper, to a secluded hollow where the ground was a living decorative of flora, each blossom pulsing with a gentle, inner light. She knelt, her fingers brushing the soft petals, a quiet awe in her touch.
Then a sudden, violent tearing sound ripped through the air, followed by a crash that shook the very earth. Y/N gasped, scrambling to her feet as a shadow fell from the sky. Her breath hitched. An Ikran, its big wings mangled, its body a broken mess of blue and crimson, slammed into the center of the flower bed, crushing the delicate blooms beneath its weight. And then, tumbling from its back, a figure, clad in the blue and white markings of a warrior, landed with a sickening thud amidst the shattered flora.
Neteyam.
The name formed silently on her lips, a mixture of shock and disbelief. He lay sprawled, still, his strong frame slack, a dark stain spreading across his chest. Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribs, but her mind, trained by her grandmother in the ways of healing, instantly took over. She rushed forward, her movements swift and purposeful, ignoring the stinging pain of thorns and the crushing weight of fear.
His breath was shallow, ragged. A jagged wound, clearly from a Sky People weapon, dugged his side. The air around him smelled of ozone and fresh blood. Y/N’s hands flew, tearing strips from her own woven sash, her eyes scanning the surrounding plants. She plucked a vibrant crimson leaves, their juices known for their antiseptic properties, and crushed them between her palms. Delicate white blossoms, their sap a natural coagulant, were pressed against the wound. Her fingers moved with practiced efficiency, cleansing, compressing, binding. She worked with an almost surgical precision, her brow furrowed in concentration. Finally, she used long, supple vines, softened by chewing, to secure the wrap, wrapping them neatly around his torso. The flowers, still clinging to the vines, formed an unexpected, colorful adornment around his chest.
Hours had passed. The twin suns began their slow descent, painting the sky in hues of violet and orange. Y/N sat beside him, a silent guardian, her gaze fixed on his still face, listening to the steady, shallow, rhythm of his breathing.
Then a low groan escaped his lips, and his eyes, the color of rich gold, fluttered open. He blinked, confusion clouding his gaze, then attempted to push himself up. A sharp hiss of pain escaped him, his hand flying to his bandaged chest.
"Stop moving," Y/N’s voice, a soft murmur, broke the silence. "Your wound still heals."
His eyes, now fully open, fixed on her. Recognition, slow and hesitant, dawned. He studied her face, then glanced at the floral bandage adorning his chest. "You’re… the one who loves flowers, aren’t you?" he managed, his voice raspy.
A small laugh, light as a falling feather, escaped her. "Y/N. My name is Y/N.
He shifted, a flicker of alertness returning to his gaze. "Y/N. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be… preparing? The ceremony starts soon."
She simply smiled, a hint of something deeper in her eyes, and reached out to gently adjust a loose vine on his bandage. "It doesn’t matter."
Neteyam found himself staring. Her hair, a color of dark, fine strands, was interwoven with an array of blossoms ,crimson, violet, a delicate, almost translucent white. The faint, sweet scent of their petals clung to her, a natural perfume. He noticed the soft curve of her cheek, the gentle slope of her nose, the way her lips parted slightly as she breathed. Her voice, so quiet, yet so clear, held a melodic quality he hadn’t noticed before. He felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth bloom in his chest, unrelated to the pain.
"Thank you," he said, his voice surprisingly sincere. "For… this." He gestured at his chest.
"It was nothing," she replied, her gaze drifting to the setting sun.
"Nothing?" he countered, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You saved my life, Y/N. I was patrolling, just a routine flight, when a Sky People scout ship came out of nowhere. They tracked me, shot my Ikran. I barely managed to get away before we crashed." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crushed flowers. "Right into your garden, it seems."
She giggled, a sound that surprised even her. "This is where I come to find peace. And sometimes… the most beautiful things." She picked up a small beautiful bloom, its petals glowing softly.
They talked then, as the sky deepened to a indigo, dotted by the first twinkling stars. He told her about his patrols, the endless vigilance required to protect their people. She spoke of the quiet beauty of the forest, the secret lives of the plants, the wisdom her grandmother imparted. He found himself listening, truly listening, captivated by the gentle sound of her voice, the sincerity in her eyes. The usual noise of expectations, the weight of his responsibilities, faded into the background. Here, with her, there was only the soft hum of the forest and the quiet exchange of words.
"I should go,"he finally said, pushing himself up, this time with more control. The pain was still there, a dull throb, but manageable. "They’ll be worried."
She nodded, rising with him. "Be careful, Neteyam."
He looked at her, for a long moment. "I hope I’ll see you at the ceremony," he said, his voice a low murmur.
She didn’t quite catch the words, lost in the soft rustling of leaves and the distant calls of night creatures. But she saw the sincerity in his eyes, and offered him another one of her gentle smiles. "Go. Be safe."
He turned, a slight limp in his stride, and melted into the growing shadows.
When Neteyam finally reached their marui, the air crackled with a frantic energy. His father, Jake Sully, Toruk Makto himself, stormed towards him, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and relief. "Where have you been, boy? Your coms were silent! We thought… Eywa help us, we thought the Sky People had you!"
Neytiri, her face etched with worry, rushed to his side, her hand immediately going to his chest. "Ma’jake, your wound!" Her sharp eyes caught the unfamiliar floral bandage. "What is this? We use herbs, not… blooms, for healing." Her gaze, piercing as an arrow, fixed on him. "Who treated you?"
Neteyam felt a strange warmth spread through him as he recalled Y/N’s gentle touch. "It was Y/N. The one who… collects flowers.
Lo’ak, ever the mischievous one, emerged from the shadows, a knowing smirk on his face. "Ah, that quiet girl? The one who barely speaks? The flower gatherer?"
Neteyam simply nodded, a slight flush rising on his cheeks. He explained the ambush, the crash, Y/N’s swift and expert care. Jake’s anger slowly softened into concern, while Neytiri’s expression remained unreadable, her eyes still fixed on the unusual bandage.
Meanwhile, Y/N arrived back at her small marui, the comforting scent of her grandmother’s cooking fly through the air. Her grandmother, her face a web of ancient lines, looked up from her weaving. "You are late, my dear.The moon has risen."
"I was… helping someone," Y/N replied, her voice soft.
Her grandmother’s eyes, wise and knowing, held hers for a long moment. "You must rest. Tomorrow is the day. You must be ready."
Y/N nodded, a quiet ache in her heart. Ready for what? To stand alone, while others found their mates? She ate her simple meal, then curled onto her sleeping mat, the image of Neteyam’s surprised eyes and the feel of his warm skin beneath her fingers lingering in her mind.
Before the first sliver of dawn painted the sky, Y/N was awake. She slipped out of her marui, moving with the silent grace . Her destination was a sacred grove, hidden deep within the whispering woods, where the Tsaheylu’s Tear bloomed only once a year, a flower of machless beauty and rarity. Its petals, a translucent silver, seemed to weep with a delicate, shimmering dew. She knew, deep down, it was foolish. No one would choose her. This exquisite bloom, meant for a beloved mate, would likely wither in her hand. Yet, a quiet compulsion, a deep-seated respect for the tradition, drove her. She would participate, even if only in spirit.
Her fingers carefully plucked the fragile blossom, its coolness a contrast to the warmth of her palm. She held it, admiring its ethereal beauty, a sigh escaping her lips. Then, she made her way back, the weight of the flower a silent companion.
Hours later, the Hometree buzzed with an energy. The Ceremony of Choices was about to begin. Her grandmother, her eyes shining with a mixture of pride and sorrow, helped Y/N prepare. She brushed Y/N’s long, dark hair until it gleamed, then wove a delicate garland of small, vibrant forest flowers through the strands, each bloom a tiny jewel. Y/N wore her finest garment, a simple, elegant shift woven from the softest fibers, adorned with subtle, iridescent patterns.
As she walked towards the ceremonial clearing, the hum of voices grew louder. Young Na’vi, boys and girls, dressed in their most vibrant finery, moved through the crowd, flowers clutched in their hands. Laughter mingled with excited whispers. Some already held hands, their eyes locked, a silent promise exchanged before the formal proceedings even began.
Y/N, the Tsaheylu’s Tear held carefully in her hand, found a quiet spot near the edge of the clearing, a towering Hallelujah mountain blossom casting a long, gentle shadow over her. She stood, a silent observer, her gaze sweeping over the joyful scene. She felt a pang, a familiar ache of loneliness, but she pushed it down. This was their moment, not hers.
Then, Tskaha and her companions came beside her, their voices sharp, cutting through the festive atmosphere. "Look, she actually came" Tskaha scoffed, her eyes raking over Y/N’s simple beauty. "Still holding onto that pathetic weed, dreaming of a mate? No one will choose you, Y/N. Not even for friendship." Her friends snickered, their cruel laughter echoing in the sudden quiet around them. Y/N felt a familiar burning behind her eyes, a single tear threatening to spill. She lowered her head, waiting for the moment to pass.
Then a sudden, collective gasp heard through the crowd. All eyes, including Y/N’s, snapped to the entrance of the clearing. Neteyam. He strode in, a vision of strength and grace, his presence commanding immediate attention. Girls, like a swarm of colorful butterflies, rushed towards him, surrounding him, their voices a sounds of desperate pleas. "Neteyam, choose me!"
"No, me! I’ve waited for you!"
He offered them a polite, almost practiced smile, his gaze sweeping over their eager faces, yet his eyes held a distant, searching quality. He ignored their cries, his head turning, scanning the edges of the clearing. Lo’ak, standing nearby, elbowed a friend. "Lucky bastard," he muttered, a grin spreading across his face.
Y/N, still shaken from Tskaha taunts, kept her head bowed, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. She barely registered the sudden hush that fell over the crowd, nor the rapid footsteps approaching her. A shadow fell across her, deeper than that of the blossom tree. She slowly lifted her head, her eyes wide, and met the intense, amber gaze of Neteyam.
He stood directly before her, his presence almost overwhelming. The girls who had been fawning over him gasped, their expressions shifting from adoration to utter disbelief, then to furious envy.
"You look… beautiful, Y/N," Neteyam said, his voice low, intimate, meant only for her ears.
A small, surprised gasp escaped her lips. A single tear, a mock of the Tskaha unkind words, traced a path down her cheek. Neteyam’s thumb, warm and gentle, reached out and wiped it away.
"Pretty girls like you shouldn’t cry," he murmured, his gaze unwavering.
Them A deep, beat of the ceremonial drum thundered through the clearing, signaling the start of the first dance begun. Neteyam extended his hand, his palm open, inviting. "May I have this dance, Y/N?"
She stared at his outstretched hand, her mind struggling to process the surreal moment. Unconsciously, her own hand, still clutching Flower, slipped into his. His fingers closed around hers, warm and firm, and he gently led her towards the center of the clearing.
The crowd parted, their murmurs a mixture of shock and awe. Y/N, still in a daze, felt the warmth of his palm, the strength of his grip. As they reached the center, the reality of the situation finally crashed over her. She stumbled, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Why me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rhythmic drumming. "We just met, out of everyone… why me?"
Neteyam’s lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. He turned her gently, guiding her into the slow, graceful steps of the first dance. His body moved with an innate rhythm, his presence both powerful and tender. "Why not?" he replied, his voice a low against her ear.
She looked at him, confused. Why not? Didn’t he understand? The first dance was a sacred prelude, a silent declaration of intent before the giving of the flower. It was the first step towards choosing a mate. How could he, the son of Toruk Makto, the future leader, not know?
He chuckled, a warm sound, seeing the bewildered expression on her face. "You are truly captivating when you’re confused, Y/N."He spun her gently, his gaze never leaving hers.
The second drum beat, a deeper, more firm rhythm, signaling the time for the giving of the flowers has begun. Neteyam released her hand, turning slightly. He reached behind his back, his fingers closing around something hidden. When he turned back, he held out a single, perfect flower, a vibrant crimson bloom, its petals unfurling like a silent promise.
"Y/N," he said, his voice clear and strong, echoing through the hushed clearing. "Will you be my mate?"
Her breath hitched. The flower slipped from her nerveless fingers, falling silently to the earth. Tears, hot and uncontrollable, streamed down her face. This couldn’t be happening. It was a dream, a cruel nightmare. Why her? She was nobody. She had no talents, no strength, no standing. He was Neteyam, the perfect son, the future leader. He deserved someone strong, someone worthy.
"Why me?" she sobbed, her voice trembling. "So many girls… they’re better than me. Tskaha, she’s a skilled hunter. She’s strong. She’d be a good mate for you."
Neteyam’s smile didn’t waver. "But I do not want Tskaha"
"But… but Sij’na, she sings like the wind, her voice is beautiful, she inspires everyone!"
"Yes, she does,"Neteyam agreed, his gaze tender, "but I have already chosen someone. And that person… must choose me too." His words, a gentle echo of his father’s own declaration of love, hung in the air.
Y/N looked at him, truly saw him. The sincerity in his eyes, the unwavering tenderness. A warmth, unlike any she had ever known, released within her chest, chasing away the years of doubt and self-reproach. A genuine smile and radiant finally bloomed on her face. She reached down, retrieved the precious flower from the ground, its silver petals shimmering.
Her hand, still trembling, offered him the rare, beautiful flower. "I already chose this person,"she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
He took the flower, his fingers brushing hers, and a spark, bright and undeniable, light between them. He then offered her his flower. She accepted it, her fingers tracing its crimson petals.
"Why me?" she asked again, but this time, the question was softer, filled with wonder, not doubt.
Neteyam’s thumb gently traced the curve of her cheek. "The moment you touched me, in that quiet field of flowers, something shifted inside me. Something… sparked. It was you, Y/N. It has always been you."
He pulled her closer, and they began to dance again, their movements now perfectly synchronized, a silent symphony of two souls finding their true rhythm. The crowd, initially stunned, erupted in cheers, a wave of joy and acceptance washing over the clearing.
As they danced, Neytiri approached, her expression softened, a rare, gentle smile gracing her lips. She beckoned to Y/N. "Little Dear, come with me."
Y/N looked at Neteyam, a question in her eyes.
"Go," he urged, his voice filled with affection. "Be swift. I will wait."
She nodded, a nervous flutter in her stomach, and followed Neytiri away from the dancing crowd, towards a secluded marui beneath a massive root. Inside, a garment, exquisitely crafted, lay draped over a low-lying branch. It was woven from the finest bioluminescent fibers, shimmering with an inner light, adorned with intricate patterns passed down through generations.
"This," Neytiri said, her voice soft, "is for the one my son chooses. It has been worn by the mates of the Olo’eyktan, for generations."
Y/N stared at the garment, her eyes wide, tears welling up again. "I… I can’t,"she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I am not worthy. I bring nothing. I don’t understand what your son sees in me." She felt the weight of centuries of tradition, of expectations, pressing down on her.
Neytiri stepped closer, her hand, surprisingly gentle, cupping Y/N’s cheek. Her eyes, so fierce in battle, now held an ancient, maternal warmth. "My son chose you, Y/N. Something within him knew. It is Eywa’s will. And I… I have never been happier for his choice." She offered a rare, genuine smile. "Wear this. Do not make my son wait. He has waited for you his whole life."
Y/N, overcome, allowed Neytiri to help her change. The garment, light as air, settled around her, its soft glow illuminating her skin. She felt a transformation, not just of clothing, but of spirit. She looked at Neytiri, her eyes filled with gratitude.
"Go," Neytiri urged, her voice firm but kind. "He is waiting."
Y/N stepped back into the clearing. Neteyam stood where she had left him, his eyes scanning the crowd, a hint of impatience on his face. When he saw her, his eyes widened, and a slow, breathtaking smile spread across his face. He walked towards her, his gaze filled with awe.
"You are… truly beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.
She felt a surge of courage, of belonging. She rushed into his arms, burying her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of earth and warrior. He held her tight, his hands stroking her hair.
The final steps of the ceremony began. Under the watchful gaze of Eywa, bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of Pandora’s night, Neteyam and Y/N stood hand in hand, their flowers intertwined, ready to receive the blessing, their future, finally, together.
Description: When Tonowari ends up in a precarious situation over your honor, you are shocked when he comes up with an outlandish proposal. An idea so crazy, it just might work to get you both out of this.
Content warnings/tags: fluff and angst, curvy/plus!sized reader, body description is not overly detailed, body insecurity, bullying because of readers body, arguing, fake dating, reader is in love with Tonowari already, friends to lovers, Young!Tonowari is reckless before he learns a few lessons, part 1/3.
Author's note: This was inspired by this request and it spiraled into a series. Thank you @lejardinfleur for being my amazing idea fairy!! Also a thank you to @lumilily for catching all of my silly grammar fumbles! You guys are the best!!
Na’vi Words used:
Eyktanay - General, second in command
Sngel - garbage
Skxawng - Idiot
Kurkung - asshole
Txanfwìngtun - loser
Zukzuk’tsyìp - little otterfin
Tanhì - Star, bioluminescent freckles
Playlist:
Ship to Wreck - Florence + the Machine
Song of the Sea - Lisa Hannigan
Belly of the Whale - Searows
Growing up, being physically taller and softer than most of the kids your age, sometimes felt like a cruel punishment from a past life.
You ate what they ate, played when they played, yet that did not make you look like the other slim-waisted and narrow hipped girls in your village. Na’vi bodies were lithe, willowy, slender, but you hadn't been born that way.
Where other girls had flat stomachs and hard planes, you had soft skin and rounded features. It wasn’t impossible for Na’vi to be built this way, you had seen others when you visited distant villages for festivals. Nothing was wrong with you, but for some reason, it gave others the impression that there was.
They made fun of you for looking different, even though you outswam many of them, your body cutting through the water just as well. Your height was a useful tool when they could not reach the ripest fruit hanging from the taller branches. You had never verbalized it, but you knew you were stronger than them too.
Yet, despite your advantages, they did not see it as you did. They called you names when they thought you could not hear, and you pretended not to notice.
For most of your childhood, the only one larger than you was Tonowari, a young man from a prominent Metkayina family. He was praised for his skill with a spear and his quick thinking. He was criticized for his reckless behavior and confidence in most things. He was not cruel, never mean, but he knew what he knew, and few could tell him different.
He towered above the other boys well before he stopped growing. His shoulders were broad and his limbs long, making a terrifying threat in the water. But while you stopped growing in your late teenage years, he never seemed to stop. The top of your head came to his nose, still half a head shorter than him, which he used to tease you about as if it was a competition.
He had become a friend to you, falling into a tight knit group of friends that never acted like you were different. Poeya and Rayal were sisters who were thick as thieves, but fought together like territorial ilu. Nakata was a sometimes reserved, but humorous young man who was Tonowari’s best friend and your cousin. It was he who pulled you into the group and forced you to make friends, effectively pulling you out of your shell.
When Tonowari had passed his Iknimaya, it felt like the celebration lasted days instead of hours. People still talked about his quickness and his bravery from the trial. He had quickly risen among the hunters as someone fearless and strategic, not hesitating to do what needed to be done to keep the village safe and provide for the clan.
When the elders decided who should be next in line for the mantle, they unanimously agreed; his positives far out weighed his flaws. The Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk had named him Eyktanay, all eyes watched him.
Which was why it was especially jarring when he had gotten in trouble for one of the few times in his life a few months ago. He had been on a hunt with Nakata and a few others, a select group chosen to hunt an akula who had been too close to the Ilu pen, and therefore, too close to the village for comfort. They had broken up to comb the waters on Tonowari’s orders, splitting off into pairs. Despite the others’ hesitancy, he insisted it would be fine that there was an uneven number of people, that he would go at it alone.
When the akula attacked him, it was from behind. His tsurak had just barely dodged in time to avoid a deadly bite. Luckily, Nakata and their friend, Yoru, had still been nearby, and even luckier, the akula was young, not at its full size yet. The three were able to help Tonowari in killing the beast and it had fed the village for many weeks.
Still, Tonowari walked away with a slice down his back, leaving a permanent, thick teal scar from his shoulder blade to nearly his hip. The Olo’eyktan had been furious at his recklessness, his pride. The entire village had questioned whether to doubt Tonowari and it made him start to doubt himself.
Your heart broke for him because of his pain, but you knew he would come back, he always did. As soon as you had laid eyes on him, you had known he was special. Your crush on Tonowari had been instant. When he smiled and greeted you the first time you hung out around them at only 12 years old, you knew you were completely hopeless.
Tonowari was kind and handsome and cocky, all things that half the young people in Awa'atlu noticed as well. He was a year older than you along with Nakata and Poeya. Your chances with him were slim, even as he guarded you, Poeya, and Rayal from danger or uncomfortable encounters with the other young men. You had always reminded yourself that his eyes watched over you like a family member more than a suitor.
When he overheard the other teens make snide comments about you, he always defended you, shoving them aside and telling them not to mess with you or else they would have to answer to him. And when they teased him about how he must like you for saying such a thing, he always shrugged and said, “I would be so lucky, but she will not have me.”
The first time he had said it, it had gotten back to you through Rayal who giggled as she told you, finding the entire notion hilarious. When you asked him why he said this the next day, he simply shrugged and said, “They do not need to know if it is real. Let them believe it, it does not matter to me.”
Now that you were nearing your twenty second year, you had assumed he had stopped needing to defend you after not hearing any teasing or taunts from others. He never led you to understand there was anything going on behind your back, just let you believe the boys had matured. The truth was that the young boys were now men, having long ago learned their lesson the hard way to stay far away from you, lest they wanted to anger the Eyktanay.
But it was on hushed whispers that you learned about his most recent incident over your honor. You had entered the communal space and quickly noticed the eyes that watched your movements and the whispers that followed you. You took less food that you would normally take, self conscious as people eyed you critically.
You sat by yourself at the evening meal as you waited for your friends to arrive, picking at your fish, but not eating much more than a few bites. The two boys must have been running late as always, seeming to always be at their own pace. The sisters were making their way across the room, stopping to line up to get food before they sat down.
“Can you believe him? Turning down my courting advances to be with her,” a voice attempted to whisper from behind you. You turned to see who it was and who they were talking about, chiding yourself for being nosy, but not able to help it. Your eyes widened to see two girls, Hiva and Elayok, already looking in your direction. Elayok wrapped an arm around Hiva’s shoulders as they glared at you.
You quickly turned back around to face forward and break eye contact. Luckily, Poeya approached at that moment, a plate full of sea food in her hand. She sat delicately beside you and turned her full attention to you, shaking her head.
“Why did you not tell me?” she asked slyly, pretending to look thoroughly displeased with you, but underneath, she seemed very happy at whatever situation she was referencing.
You tilted your head, “Tell you what?” you asked, confused.
“That you and Tonowari are courting, we could not get the full story out of him, but he admitted to it. Why was it a secret?” Rayal asked, coming to sit on your other side.
You blinked blankly at her, “What in Eywa’s name are you talking about?” you demanded.
Poeya rolled her eyes, “The truth has been released, you do not have to act that way. Tell us everything! How did it happen?” she prodded, but you just stared, mouth agape in shock.
At that moment, whispers picked up across the room as Tonowari and Nakata entered. Nakata looked amused, as if he was about to witness a show, while Tonowari only had his severe gaze set on you. They skipped the food, weaving through the seated figures as the people looked up at them, watching closely as they stalked up to you.
Tonowari stopped in front of your seated form, Nakata moving to sit beside Poeya. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Tonowari asked.
You stared up at him, lips held tightly closed together so that you did not have your jaw hanging open like a fish.
“What for?” you asked dumbly. Poeya elbowed you lightly, but you ignored her as you had trained yourself to do over the years.
Tonowari winced, “Just… I just need to talk to you,” he said as a non-answer, holding out a hand to help you stand up.
Your brow furrowed over your eyes, his words and expression worrying you. “Okay,” you agreed, taking his hand. He tugged you up with more strength than you thought one capable of. You flew up to your feet so unexpectedly that you stumbled, Tonowari’s hand coming to your waist to steady you.
“Thank you,” you muttered as he nodded and stepped away. You glanced at Nakata, whose eyes flipped between his best friend and his cousin, watching you as if he knew a secret.
Tonowari kept hold of your hand, tugging you back through the seated crowd and out through the exit.
“Tonowari, what is going on?” you asked, his nervous disposition was stressing you out. The sun had already set over the village, casting the world in a glowing deep blue as bioluminescence reflected off of and through the water. The Dorado Verde flying above called to each other as if saying goodnight.
“I messed up,” he muttered quietly over his shoulder as he dragged you through mauris and docks. He stopped when he made it to an outcropping of trees on the island, away from the village center which was built somewhat over the reef.
He turned to face you and dropped your hand, his tanhì glowing in the darkness. “You messed up? What does that mean?” you demanded, arms crossing over your chest as he sighed, running his hand over his unbraided curls. They sat around his head like a halo, smaller sections were pinned away from his face, but most of it flowed freely.
“I said some things I should not have, about you,” he sighed, “about us.”
“About us?” you muttered quietly, “What ‘us’?” you prodded further and he closed his eyes tightly, steeling himself for your reaction to his actions.
“I was hunting with Yoru today when he told me about what some of the scouts have been saying, things about you.” He shook his head as if shaking off his anger.
“That is the problem? I am used to their insults, let them talk.” You shrugged, trying your best not to look wounded.
“I have already handled it, I’m afraid that is the problem. The details do not matter, but I may have accidentally led them to believe that we are courting. I was angry, I was not thinking,” he said, silently pleading with you with his eyes.
You scoffed, “Tonowari te Tsika’u Arvak’itan, you will tell me exactly what happened so we can fix this,” you glowered, anxiety rising in you like a tidal wave.
He clenched his jaw, his entire body wound tight as he stared down at you regretfully. You were not used to the cocky warrior looking so guilty.
“I went to L’rilk, the one who has been spewing his sngel around the village,” he started, looking off to the ground, his eyes downcast in shame as he recounted his story. “He admitted that he insulted you, did not even try to pretend he had not.”
“What did he say?” you asked, feeling like you needed to know.
Tonowari shook his head, “It does not matter, it is not true.”
“It matters to me, tell me!” You insisted.
“No! I will not,” he exclaimed, voice raising, “I cannot utter the words. I would not disgrace you by repeating them,” he argued, shaking his head vehemently.
“Tonowari, I can handle-”
“I know, I know you can, but you should not have to. If you really must know, you can ask a gossiping girl, but you will not hear the words from me,” he ordered with fire.
You sighed, relenting to him. “Then at least tell me how we got here. Why does he think we are courting?” you said.
“Well…” he sighed, bringing his hand to his forehead and attempting to smooth away the creases that had formed. “I went in angry and I confronted him.”
He waltzed into the alcove where weapons and tools were stored and where the very skxawng he was looking for was mending nets with his friends. A group of them were gathered together, laughing and jostling each other like young, stupid boys tend to do.
“L’rilk!” He thundered, marching up to the idiot in the middle of the group. L’rilk turned at his name, raising his brow at the newcomer.
“Tonowari, I see you, brother,” he nodded, gesturing the traditional Na’vi greeting, but Tonowari scoffed, fists clenching at his sides.
“If you saw me, then I would not have to tell you again. Do you remember what we discussed last time?” he asked lowly. “I hear from the hunters that you have been speaking badly about y/n. Is this true?” Tonowari asked for clarification, wanting to know for sure before he went into this conversation with his hackles raised.
L’rilk shrugged, “Maybe I said a few things. It is not my fault she makes a spectacle, flaunting herself in front of the men. As if they would want her, have you seen how much she eats?” he asked, snorting at the thought.
Tonowari’s eyes seemed to glow red, but it may have been a trick of the light. He stepped closer, forcing L’rilk to step back as he towered over him. “You lie about her for attention and it has gained mine. You will not speak about y/n again. You do not so much as utter her name,” he ground out, shoving a finger in L’rilk’s chest so hard that he stumbled.
"Woah!” L’rilk laughed and the rage in Tonowari’s chest bubbled. “I do not see why you always defend her. I mean, she could be considered pretty enough, for one shaped like a tulkun. I personally do not see the appeal, but to each their own," L’rilk smirked and his friends snickered behind him.
Tonowari nodded coldly, realizing L’rilk was really doing this. “You insult me with your foul speech, kurkung,” Tonowari hissed.
“I did not realize you were so fond of the girl, one might think you were courting her,” L’rilk leveled a look at Tonowari, but it did not intimidate him as L’rilk hoped. It only seemed to make him turn more fearsome.
“And what if I was?” Tonowari ground out, as he shrugged unsparingly, “That gives me the right to challenge you to a test of skill. Or maybe I could just attack you now, do away with the formalities. I would start by cracking your ribs, one for each time you insulted her. I would beat you until you did not know up from down. Do you want that? Do you want me to embarrass you in front of your friends?”
L’rilk sobered as he spoke. “I did not know that you were truly with her or I would not have insulted her.” He shrugged, huffing out a laugh so as to not appear like he was totally being eviscerated.
“I should not have to be with her for you to show her some respect,” Tonowari ordered. He would later realize one of his mistakes from this day was never outright denying L’rilk’s accusations, too focused on his anger to think of societal repercussions for you. “You do not deserve to even look at her. You, who has never known the warmth of a woman, you are cruel in your ignorance. You are the dirt beneath her feet,” he hissed.
L’rilk’s face morphed into anger, “Who are you to speak to me like that? You are not the Olo’eyktan yet,” he snapped back.
Tonowari’s lip curved up wickedly, “I am the one who answers for y/n. Tell your friends what I have told you here today. If I hear anything being said about her, I will break each of your hands,” he threatened, glancing around the room over the downcast eyes of the scouts.
The men shifted on uneasy feet, avoiding the eyes of the Eyktanay as he turned away and stalked away from the group.
“Oh, and L’rilk?” Tonowari paused at the door, turning back to see the pale-faced man gripping his net tightly, “I will tell you this because I know it will take you a long time to figure out on your own. Real men like our woman shaped like her, it gives us something to hold onto. It seems like you might prefer little girls instead.” Tonowari flashed a grin when he saw the shocked look on L’rilk’s face as he sputtered out words of disagreement.
Tonowari did not wait for him to respond competently, just turned and marched out of the alcove and back into the village.
An hour later, when Nakata stomped into his kelku demanding answers for why the hunters, divers, and scouts were all chittering like children over the news of the Eyktanay courting his cousin, Tonowari realized he had messed up.
“You did not deny it?” you asked, after he finished telling you his heavily condensed and edited side of the story.
“I was not thinking! I was so angry. I could have hit the txanfwìngtun right then and there if I had known the Olo’eytkan would not find out,” he said, fists balling up again at his sides.
“So he thinks we like each other, that is not so bad. Let them think what they will,” you said, more in an attempt to calm yourself down.
Tonowari grimaced, “I am afraid they think our relationship is more… intimate than that,” he muttered.
Your shoulders tensed up, “What does that mean? What did you say?” you asked, although you had a feeling that you already knew.
“I told him that he did not know the touch of a woman and that if he ever said a word about you he would have to answer to me.” he shrugged as if it was no big deal.
“Now they are saying that we have all but formally mated,” he admitted quietly and your stomach sank to your toes. “The future Olo’eyktan is expected to only have one romantic partner, if I was to be seen as fickle it would mean that I am disloyal. Our reputations are at stake. I do not have to tell you what they would say about you,” he continued.
You shook your head, not even able to focus on his words, still reeling from the fact that he even did this in the first place. “I do not see how this went on so far, you need to stop getting in trouble on my behalf!” you told him, voice raising so you hoped he understood you.
He scoffed, “I am not in trouble,” he rolled his eyes at your exaggeration.
“Keep this up and you will be. Listen to you! You say you need to keep up a certain image, does the Olo’eyktan doubt your ability as a leader?” you argued.
“The details do not matter, what matters is how we handle this now. We have two options. We can go in there and deny everything… or…” he hesitated to continue, eyeing you nervously as you prompted him to continue. “Or we could maintain the lie.”
Your mouth fell open, “What?!” you sputtered.
“Hear me out! L’rilk will attempt to use any chink in my armor against me. If he finds me to be a liar, he will bring it to the Olo’eyktan. I do not need any more scrutiny after the Akula incident,” he begged.
“That is not a good idea, what if we were found out? That would have horrible repercussions for both of us.” you argued and he stepped closer, taking one of your hands in both of his.
“Think of what they would say if we tell them it is false. L’rilk and his friends will call my role into question and they will come down even harder on you,” he pointed out. “I will take the fall for this if you want me to, tell them you had nothing to do with any of it, but I can not guarantee it would work where we walk away unscathed. Please, this would be a favor to me, let me fix what I have broken.”
You had been made fun of by L’rilk before, you knew the sting of his words. He had stopped saying them to you directly several rotations ago, but you now realized it was because Tonowari had been fighting your battles for you.
“How many times have you had to come to my defense?” you asked quietly.
He gritted his teeth, “What does that have to-”
“How many times, Tonowari!” you demanded.
He paused, looking guilty, “At first, once every few weeks, eventually every few months. I was handling it,” he asserted quietly.
You backed away, “Why was this kept from me?” you whispered, raising your free hand to your cheek and pressing firmly against it. The coolness of your hand eased the heat in your face the slightest bit.
“Because you did not need to know. It would only hurt you,” he explained and your eyes softened at his thoughtfulness, however misguided it was.
“We are no longer children, you do not need to defend me.”
“I wanted to,” he said, looking deeply into your eyes as if begging for understanding.
Your resolve crumbled, not that it was ever that strong in the first place when it came to him. You knew he would have done the same for Poeya and Rayal, but your heart still picked up its rhythm at the words. He wanted to defend you, he cared enough to protect your honor. You wanted it to mean something, anything, but your mind knew what your heart ignored, he was just a friend. He would never look at you with love or affection as you wished.
“If we do this,” you started and he visibly relaxed, ears moving forward to listen. “We need to be honest with only one another, but no one else can know,” you insisted.
He winced, “Nakata already knows.” he admitted and your eyes widened at the news.
“Tonowari!” you groaned, and he shrugged.
“He was the one who told me the news was going around, what they were saying about us. He figured it out very quickly when I stared at him like a fish!” He argued and you closed your eyes, stressed that things had become so muddled.
“What are his thoughts on the deception?” you begrudgingly asked.
“He is apprehensive, but agrees it is the best case scenario,” Tonowari said.
You sighed, respecting your cousin’s judgement. If he agreed… then you would go forward.
“Should we tell the girls then?” you asked, feeling bad at the idea of letting them believe the lie.
“No,” Tonowari shook his head, “I love Poeya and Rayal like my little sisters, but they talk too much. Our secret would be out in no time,” he pointed out and you deflated. He was right, the sisters loved to gossip like old bitties.
“That is true.” You nodded.
“Y/n, tell me what is on your mind, what are you thinking?” he asked gently.
You met his eyes, “If we do not do this, people will say I used you, even if it is not true. If they believe that something has… transpired between us, then they will only grow crueller. You know how they are, they will twist the narrative against me. That is their way,” you said, seeing the story play out in your head and hating that he was right.
Tonowari nodded, looking deep in thought by the way his eyes left yours and focused over your shoulder.
You huffed, barely believing what you were about to say, “I will do this, but you have to fix it. This cannot last forever,” you demanded and his eyes flew to you.
“Truly?” he asked, relieved.
“Yes,” you nodded in confirmation.
“Thank you, you will not regret this. We will give ourselves a month, that gives me time to work through a solution. In the meantime, we will put up the appearance of courting. What are you comfortable with?” he asked and you blinked at the question that felt so loaded.
“Uh,” your face heated at the thoughts running through your mind. “You may hold my hand, touch me if you need to, and I suppose gifts and acts of courtship would be expected from us. I trust you,” you muttered
He nodded, pride blooming in his chest at your faith in him. He hoped it was not misplaced. “And if it comes up, am I allowed to kiss you, to keep up the facade?” he asked, grinning like a troublesome boy.
You let out a laugh in surprise. “Why would you need to do that?”
He shrugged, “You never know.”
“Sure, if the situation calls for it, which it won’t, then you may kiss me,” you agreed.
He smiled, “Never say never,” he pointed at you.
You rolled your eyes, “And we will need nicknames, all the couples have them. I should come up with something truly heinous for you as punishment,” you said.
He nodded, resigning himself to your judgement. “That would only be fair,” he said.
“I have already decided. You will be Zukzuk’tsyìp.” The small, cute creature was the opposite from Tonowari in basically every way, but the name was adorable and you knew he would hate it.
He groaned, “That is terrible," he complained and you smiled widely.
“Then it is perfect,” you asserted. You sobered at the next thought that came to you, “Our parents… they will have to be convinced as well,” you sighed, head reeling all over again at the complexity of the lie.
“We will crest that wave when it comes. Let us get through tonight first, we have already wasted enough time, they will wonder where we have been. We will walk back in there hand in hand. Let them stare, let them talk. You will not have to work at this, let me handle the finer details. To them, I am courting you, it will be best if you only seem to accept my advances, let them think I am the lovesick fool. It works to our story,” he advised and you nodded.
“Okay, I can do that,” you nodded, but internally, you were screaming. Your crush on Tonowari had been slow and growing for years, could you handle his romantic attention knowing it was fake, knowing it had to end?
“Are you ready?” he asked, taking a deep breath and standing stiffly.
You looked at him, cocking your head to the side before reaching a hand up and pinching his lips firmly, your other hand musing his hair.
He swatted your hands away, “What are you doing?” he asked, shocked. His lips were tinged purple and looked swollen, his curls now disordered.
You looked blankly at him, “You said it yourself, they will wonder where we have been. Let them think we were being as scandalous as your words suggested,” you shrugged and he relaxed.
“Ah, I like the way you think,” he reached to you, doing the same thing. His fingers were calloused, but gentle as he pressed them into your lips. You laughed at the ridiculousness of this situation, the sound muffled. He smiled back, running a hand through your hair to puff it up and make it look slightly messy.
He took your hand in his much larger one, his fingers brushing the underside of your wrist as they wrapped around your palm. “Now we are ready,” you said.
Once you had walked back inside and braved the wide stares from your kin and peers, you sat back down in your spot, and this time, Tonowari sat next to you. He was so close that his scent lingered around you, a fresh, salty smell with undercurrents of dune grass and the water lilies that grew outside of his marui.
He rested a hand on your shoulder as you sat with your friends, being grilled on what was going on between you. You had momentarily panicked at first, realizing you had never gotten your story straight, but it turned out that you did not have to talk much. You just placed your hand on his knee and smiled shyly as he came up with a generic, but sweet story of how you supposedly accepted his courting advances.
Nakata sat in silence, arms crossed as he let Tonowari spin your web of lies. You caught his eye and he shook his head at you with a small smile gracing his lips. He seemed to be laughing at this situation, one that he apparently supported. Rayal and Poeya were overjoyed, ecstatic even as they asked question after question.
Most of the crowd from before had already dispersed to their mauris to sleep for the night. It felt like you were pushing a canoe into quiet waters before you braved the real storm further out.
Later that night, as you sat on the dock outside of your parents home, you were glad to have a reprieve from the deception, even just until the morning.
His fake affections were suffocating. It was terrible to know what the weight of his hand on your shoulder or the warmth of his smile felt like. It was worse to know it would never be meant for you.
Footsteps made the netting creak behind you and you turned to see your cousin, Nakata walking up to you. To sighed, knowing the conversation that was about to be had was going to be anything but pleasant. He lowered himself to sit beside you, staring out over the water with a tiny grin gracing his lips.
You sat in silence, soaking in the sound lapping of distant waves as you both collected your thoughts.
Finally, “What have you agreed to, little cousin?” Nakata asked. His tanhì glowed in the dim light, as a curl fell over his face.
You closed your eyes, wincing at the question, because the truth was you had no idea. “Tonowari got in too deep to dig himself out, and he did it all for me. What was I supposed to do?” you asked.
He shook his head at your predicament, “I do not envy you,” he chortled, kicking his feet languidly in the water below.
You nodded, “It hurt today, knowing it was all fake, that he would not have done it if he did not have to,” you admitted.
You looked up to him and he met your gaze. Your lighthearted cousin suddenly looked subdued and conflicted. Tonowari had his best friend since they were boys. No one knew him better than Nakata, but he also knew you like the back of his hand. He had seen heartbreak in your future because of your infatuation with Tonowari.
“What do I do, Nakata? I do not know if I can handle this,” you muttered, your sudden vulnerability something you only showed to your cousin. He was your closest friend and your advisor wrapped up into one, neat package.
“You can do this, you have to. There is no way out but through now, not without tearing down everything you have both worked for,” he pointed out.
You swallowed thickly, nodding at his words, even as they confirmed your fears and your hopes at the same time. A part of you wanted to do this, of course you did. How could you pass up the opportunity to be near him, to be in his orbit. You enjoyed the feeling of his attention, however fleeting you knew it to be.
He pursed his lips, eyes sobering when he realized you were filled with anxiety. “Do you love him?” he asked quietly. He had watched you two together. He knew how you felt, even if he had rarely verbalized it other than a few jokes to tease you. A blind person could not miss the way you gazed at the Eyktanay.
“What?” you uttered, the word barely leaving your lips as the blood rushed out of your face.
He sighed at your suffering. “I do not really need to ask, but I will. Do you love him?”
You searched his eyes and found no malice, no humor. “Yes,” you admitted and his shoulders tensed at the confirmation.
“Then you have to be careful,” he warned. “Tonowari is my friend, we are brothers, but he is reckless. He is a good man, but he does not often think before he plunges into dangerous waters." He looked intently at you, imploring you to hear his words.
"Do not let him pull you down with him.”
Join my taglist.
Series Taglist: @edgyficuselastica (comment to be added)
cw: Omatikaya clan; fluff; friends to lovers; courting
You remember the first time Tarsem truly looked at you—not as one of the clan’s many young weavers or singers, but as you.
It is before the Sky People return in force, before Jake’s family flees to the reefs, before the weight of leadership ever touches Tarsem’s shoulders.
He is already respected—a quiet, steady hunter with a calm strength that makes elders nod approvingly and young warriors listen when he speaks. But he is not yet Olo’eyktan. He is simply Tarsem: thoughtful, observant, slower to smile than most, but when he does, it feels earned.
You are gathering sweetberries near the base of the new village with a few friends when he approaches. Not boldly like some other males, striding up with loud compliments and flashy gifts. He waits at the edge of the clearing until you notice him, then steps forward with measured grace.
“I have something for you,” he says, voice low and even.
In his hands is a single, perfect bloom—a rare night-glow orchid that only opens after dusk, its petals shimmering soft violet and silver. He must have climbed high into the upper canopy at twilight to find it untouched.
You take it carefully, fingers brushing his. “It is beautiful,” you murmur, cheeks warming under his steady gaze.
“I thought of you when I saw it,” he answers simply. “Quiet, but bright in the dark.”
Your friends giggle behind you, but Tarsem does not look away. His ears flick once—nervous, you realize later—but his expression stays calm.
That is how it begins: quietly, steadily.
He finds reasons to be near you without crowding.
During hunts, he brings back the choicest cuts of yerik and leaves them at your family’s hearth with only a nod.
When you sing with the women at evening gatherings, he sits farther back than the other young males, listening intently, amber eyes reflecting the firelight. Once, after a particularly haunting mourning song, he approaches afterward and says softly, “Your voice carries memory. It is a gift.” No teasing. No bravado. Just truth.
Tarsem courts you the old way—patient and respectful.
He carves you a delicate songcord bead from banshee bone after his first successful tsahìk-guided vision quest, presenting it wrapped in soft leaves.
He teaches you to read the wind currents on ikran flights, steadying you with careful hands when you practice on calmer mounts.
When you twist your ankle on a root during a gathering trip, he carries you back to Hometree without complaint, your weight nothing in his arms, his tail curled protectively around your leg to soothe and keep you steady.
He is never loud about his interest, but the clan notices.
Neytiri teases him gently one day when she catches him watching you weave: “Our quiet hunter has found his song at last.”
Mo’at watches with knowing eyes and later tells your mother, “He has a leader’s heart already. Steady. Kind. He will choose well.”
And you feel it growing—the pull toward him.
His rare smiles are for you, and his quiet presence becomes your calm in crowded gatherings.
When other young males flirt or boast to catch your attention, you find your eyes seeking him instead, finding comfort in his calm observance.
One night, under the Tree of Voices, he finally speaks what has been unspoken for moons.
You sit together on a low root, atokirina drifting lazily around you. He reaches for your hand—slowly, giving you time to pull away—and when you don’t, he threads his fingers through yours.
“I wish to court you truly,” he says, voice soft but certain. “Not in secret glances or quiet gifts. Openly. With honor. If you would have me.”
Your heart stutters. You turn to him, searching his face—strong, kind, already carrying the weight of responsibility even before the mantle is his.
“I would have you,” you whisper.
He smiles then—slow, genuine, lighting his whole face—and leans in to press his forehead to yours.
“I see you,” he murmurs.
“I see you,” you answer.
Years later, when Jake places the ceremonial mantle on his shoulders and names him Olo’eyktan, you stand proudly at his side—already promised, already bonded in the eyes of the clan.
But you will always remember the time before: when Tarsem was simply the quiet hunter who brought you night-glow orchids and looked at you like you were the brightest thing in the forest.
The courting that began long before he ever became leader.
The love that grew steady and deep, just like him.
there's something about the way fan-artists do Aonung's hair that makes me feral so James Cameron I'm warning you now, if I don't see ts in the next one, my foot is going to go so far up your ass you'll be flossing your teeth with toenails. no joke.
**all credit goes to these beautiful artists, I found these images on pinterest and only know are fkarelyxoxo and nikyu0 so pls lmk any other credits xx**
Sam Winchester being in a relationship with you of all people, bratty, demanding, you, practically a walking headache. It didn’t make sense to anyone who found out because of the way the two of you fit together like a visual punchline. Sam, all six foot five of him, broad shoulders, long, strong, limbs, the kind of guy who looked like he benched boulders on the regular, coupled up with you, barely reaching past his chest, sharp-tongued, and impatient, tapping your foot while bossing him around like he wasn’t capable of snapping you in half with ease. And yet—there he was, each and every time, leaning down to listen, nodding to you like it was the most serious thing in the world, already doing whatever it was you asked.
Dean loved pointing it out, just always cracking it up over his brother being so whipped. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he’d say, grinning as you snapped at Sam to hand something over. “Guy wrestles monsters for a living and gets ordered around by someone who needs a step stool.” Sam would glare half-heartedly, but his attention was always on you, already reaching for whatever you wanted, already apologizing if he didn’t move fast enough. It was comical, really—the way he immediately obeyed, towering, devoted and completely misty-eyed over you.
The worst part, for Dean and Bobby both, was how often Sam would leave. Hunts wrapped up early not because the case was done, but because you’d called. A short, impatient “are you coming over or not?” was all it took. Sam would already be packing up, shrugging into his jacket, repeating excuses about checking in with them later. Dean learned to read the signs, his soft smile, his loss of focus, his phone tucked back into his jeans' pocket like it was something precious. “She call?” Dean would ask. Sam would only look over in response, never denying it.
Sam wore your presence on him, literally. Bracelets you’d given him, bright, colorful things that looked ridiculous on his large wrists—they never came off. He twisted them when he was thinking, thumb brushing over plastic beads like a grounding habit. Bobby once stared at them for a few minutes before wisely deciding not to comment on them. His phone case was your favorite color and decorated with all sorts of charms and stickers. Sam always wore it in pride, he didn’t care how they looked to other people. You liked them there. That was reason enough. Everything regarding you boiled down to that simple truth.
And then there were the little things—the things that made people, mostly Dean and Bobby, stop and stare. Sam sitting patiently while you clipped little pastel hair clips into his brunette locks, holding still like a statue so you could get it just right. Sam wearing matching pajama sets because you thought it’d be "cute," long legs folded awkwardly on a bed that was clearly too small for him. A man built like a weapon, letting himself be decorated and coordinated, all just to hear you hum and smile in satisfying. You bossed him around with nothing short of an iron fist and Sam followed without hesitation. It didn’t make sense to anyone on the outside looking in, but he never cared. Because to him, bending down to kiss your forehead, smiling like he’d won something rare, felt exactly right.
Summary: You've spent your whole life living with the Winchesters—yet you've never truly been one of them, not the way your sister always was… until one cursed hunt flips everything upside down.
Warnings: really angsty. No happy ending.
Thank you, anon, for this request. It was a fun concept although it really hurt to write Dean like this :( this is definitely not the way our baby would ever act—but that’s why we call it fanfiction.
The dim glow of the bunker’s library lamp cast long shadows across the worn wooden table, where you sat nursing a half-empty glass of whiskey. It was late—too late for anyone else to be up—but sleep had been elusive these days. Living here with Sam and Dean Winchester, your childhood friends turned reluctant housemates, felt like walking a tightrope. You’d known them since you were kids, back when your adoptive parents had crossed paths with John Winchester on a hunt gone wrong. They’d taken you and your sister in after the tragedy, but it was always her they gravitated toward. Emily. Bright, bold Emily, with her easy laugh and hunter’s instincts that mirrored theirs so perfectly.
You? You were the quiet one, the adopted stray who patched wounds and researched lore while they saved the world. Sam was kind enough, in his awkward, brotherly way, but Dean… Dean barely acknowledged you unless he needed something. Until six months ago, when everything changed.
It started with a hunt. A witch in some backwater town had targeted Emily—your sister had pissed her off by interrupting a ritual. The curse was insidious: slow-draining life force, tied to some ancient grudge. You’d all scrambled for a cure, but the witch’s dying words had sealed it. “The blood of the forgotten binds the favored. Claim her heart, hunter, or lose the one you cherish.”
You hadn’t heard that part. No one told you. Instead, Dean had pulled you aside one night, his green eyes unusually soft under the bunker’s harsh lights. “Hey,” he’d said, voice rough like gravel. “I’ve been thinkin’. About us. I… I love you. Always have. We should give this a shot.”
It had felt like a dream. Dean Winchester, the man you’d crushed on since you were fifteen, confessing his feelings? You’d fallen into it headfirst, ignoring the nagging doubt. The kisses were real enough at first—hungry, desperate—but soon, the cold set in. Like frost creeping over a windowpane.
Now, you stared at the empty chair across from you, replaying the last fight in your head. It had been over nothing, really. You’d suggested a movie night, just the two of you, to unwind after a grueling case. Dean had snapped, “I’m not in the mood for your clingy bullshit. Go bother someone else.”
Clingy. The word stung like salt in a wound. You weren’t clingy; you were trying to make this work. But Dean’s affection came in sporadic bursts, always followed by walls slamming up. He’d hold you one night, whispering sweet nothings that made your heart ache, then ignore you for days, spending his time laughing with Emily or buried in the Impala’s engine.
The night dragged on in fragments, sleep coming only in snatched minutes before nightmares yanked you awake, heart pounding. You stayed curled in the library chair, the worn leather uncomfortable beneath you, lumps digging into your back. You didn’t go to your bedroom; the sheets there still carried traces of him, and you couldn’t bear it tonight. Here, at least, the discomfort felt honest.
You sat at the kitchen table next morning, picking at a plate of eggs you’d made for Dean—his favorite, over-easy with extra bacon—hoping maybe today he’d sit with you. Hoping the small gesture might thaw whatever ice had settled between you.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Your heart lifted, stupidly, until Dean walked into the kitchen and only glanced at the plate, then at you. His expression didn’t soften. “I’m good,” he muttered, grabbing a beer from the fridge instead and headed out to the war room.
You stared at the untouched food until it went cold, then dumped it in the trash with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.
Later that week, after a rough hunt where Sam had taken a nasty gash and you were stitching up his arm while Dean barely looked at you, you tried again. You found him in the garage, elbows-deep in the Impala’s engine, classic rock blaring.
You leaned against the doorframe, holding two fresh beers. “Thought you could use one.”
He didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”
You stepped closer anyway, setting one on the workbench beside him. “Dean… you’ve been distant. More than usual. Did I do something?”
He wiped his hands on a rag, finally meeting your eyes. The green was flat, guarded. “You always gotta make everything about you, huh? Hunt went sideways, Sam’s hurt, and you’re whining about me not holding your hand?”
The words sliced deep, but you swallowed the hurt. “I’m not whining. I’m worried about you. About us.”
He barked a humorless laugh. “There is no ‘us’ to worry about. Just drop it.”
You should’ve walked away then. Instead, you reached out, fingers brushing his arm. “Please. Talk to me. I love you—”
“Don’t.” He jerked away like your touch burned. “Just… don’t.”
That night, you lay beside him in the dark—because even when he was cold, he still came to your bed sometimes, like muscle memory he couldn’t break. You listened to his steady breathing and pretended it meant something.
The next morning, you made coffee exactly how he liked it—black, two sugars—and brought it to him in the library where he sat with Emily, heads bent over a map.
“Here,” you said softly, setting it down.
He glanced up, irritation flashing. “I didn’t ask for this.”
Emily gave you a pitying look. “Thanks, though,” she added gently.
You forced a smile that felt like glass in your mouth. “Anytime.”
Days turned into weeks of this dance. You’d catch him watching you sometimes when he thought you weren’t looking—quick, conflicted flickers—but the moment your eyes met, the wall slammed back up.
One evening, after he’d snapped at you in front of Sam for “hovering” while he cleaned his guns, you followed him to his room anyway.
“Dean, wait.”
He paused in the doorway, back rigid. “What now?”
You stepped closer, voice small. “I know you’re going through something. I know this life is hard. But I’m here. I’ll always be here. Just… let me in. Please.”
For a second, something cracked in his expression—guilt, maybe, or regret. His jaw worked like he was chewing on words he couldn’t spit out.
Then it was gone.
“You’re suffocating me,” he said quietly. Too quietly. “Back off.”
You stood there long after he shut the door in your face, tears sliding hot down your cheeks. You wiped them away quickly, because God forbid anyone saw you break.
You kept trying. Kept cooking his favorite meals. Kept leaving little notes in his duffel before hunts—Be safe. Come home to me. Kept touching his arm gently when you passed in the hall, even when he flinched. Kept saying “I love you” into the silence after he fell asleep beside you, because someone had to mean it.
Every cold word, every dismissive look, every time he chose Emily’s company over yours—it carved another piece out of you. But you smiled through it. You stayed soft when he was sharp. You told yourself that if you just loved him hard enough, he’d remember why he started this in the first place.
You didn’t know he never had a reason to begin with.
And he never told you the truth, because watching you try—watching you break yourself open for him day after day—was easier than admitting what he’d done.
So you kept bleeding quietly, hoping one day he’d notice the stains.
The morning Emily walked into the kitchen on her own, everything in the bunker seemed to exhale.
She was still pale, but her eyes were bright again, her smile real. Sam nearly dropped his coffee mug when he saw her. He pulled her into a bear hug, laughing in that relieved way that made the whole room feel warmer. Dean was already there, leaning against the counter like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
When Emily turned to him, he didn’t say a word—just opened his arms. She stepped right into them, pressing her face into his chest like she used to when you were all kids and nightmares were the worst thing in the world. His hand came up slowly, fingers threading gently through her hair, holding her there. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to the top of her head, lingering, eyes closed. A soft, shuddering breath left him, like he’d been carrying something heavy for months and could finally set it down.
“Thank God,” he whispered against her hair, so quiet you almost missed it. “Thank God.”
Your heart folded in on itself.
You stood at the stove, gripping the handle of the skillet too tightly, pancakes forgotten. He had never held you like that. Not once. In all the nights he’d spent in your bed, all the times you’d reached for him in the dark, he’d never let himself soften this way. Never let his guard down long enough to just breathe you in like you were the only thing keeping him steady.
Emily pulled back a little, smiling up at him with tired, grateful eyes. “I’m okay now. Really.”
Dean’s thumb brushed across her cheek, a small, protective gesture that looked so natural on him it hurt. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “You are.”
You turned away before either of them noticed you watching. The burner clicked off under your hand. You didn’t trust your face.
Later that day, things shifted in ways too subtle for anyone else to catch.
Dean laughed louder when Emily teased him about his ancient music taste. He sat next to her on the couch while you all researched a new case, his arm draped casually along the back—close enough that his fingers could brush her shoulder when he leaned in to point at the laptop screen. He brought her tea without being asked. He checked on her every hour, poking his head into her room with that same quiet relief in his eyes.
With you, nothing changed on the surface. He still came to your bed some nights, still let you curl against him in the dark. But the distance had always been there, and now it felt wider—like a chasm you couldn’t see the bottom of.
You kept trying anyway.
You made his favorite burger for dinner and set it in front of him with a soft smile. He nodded thanks, but ate standing up at the counter, talking to Emily across the room.
You left a note in his jacket pocket before a supply run—Come back safe. I’ll be waiting. He never mentioned it.
You touched his arm in passing one evening, just a light brush of fingers. He tensed, moved away without looking at you.
You told yourself it was stress. That the curse had taken its toll on him too. That he was just tired. That if you kept being gentle, kept being there, he’d come back to you eventually.
But every time you saw him with Emily—every easy smile, every lingering look, every time he reached for her without thinking—you felt the truth settle a little deeper in your bones.
Whatever had been between you and Dean, it was slipping away.
And he wasn’t reaching to hold onto it.
You just didn’t know why.
You didn’t mean to eavesdrop.
You were heading to the library for a book that might help you sleep—something dry and ancient, anything to quiet the ache in your chest—when you heard voices from the war room. Low, urgent. Sam’s first, then Dean’s quieter rumble.
You stopped in the shadowed hallway, just out of sight.
“…she’s okay now, Dean,” Sam was saying, voice pitched low but firm. “The curse is gone. Emily’s fine. You don’t have to keep doing this.”
Silence. Heavy, thick silence.
Then Dean, so quiet you almost missed it: “I know.”
“You know?” Sam’s tone sharpened. “Then why the hell are you still letting her think—? Man, you’ve been treating her like garbage for months. Cold one minute, crawling into her bed the next just to keep the magic happy. It’s cruel.”
“I had to make it believable,” Dean muttered. “The witch said it had to be real. A claim. Love. Whatever the hell that meant. As long as I was with her—bound to her—Emily stayed alive.”
Your breath stopped.
Sam’s voice dropped even lower. “Yeah, bound to the ‘forgotten blood.’ We get it. But it worked. Emily’s been getting stronger every week. She’s healed. The price is paid. You can stop pretending now.”
Pretending.
The word hit you like a fist to the sternum.
Dean exhaled, rough and tired. “I never wanted to hurt her.”
“But you did,” Sam said, not unkindly. “And you’re still doing it. Every time you flinch when she touches you. Every time you snap at her for trying to love you. Tell her the truth, Dean. She deserves that much.”
“No.” Dean’s voice was flat. Final. “She finds out I lied about everything—every kiss, every ‘I love you’—it’ll destroy her. Better she thinks I just… fell out of it. That I’m an asshole. She’ll hate me, but she’ll move on.”
Sam made a frustrated sound. “You don’t get to decide what’s better for her.”
“I’m deciding what’s kinder,” Dean said. “Let it die slow. Let her walk away thinking it was her fault, or mine, or this life. Just… not the truth.”
You pressed a hand over your mouth to trap the sound trying to escape.
Every moment flashed behind your eyes: the first time he’d said he loved you, the nights he’d held you like an obligation, the mornings he couldn’t look at you. The way he’d kissed Emily’s hair that morning with relief he’d never once shown for you.
It had never been real.
Not a single second of it.
You backed away silently, tears already sliding hot down your cheeks. You didn’t make a sound. You’d gotten good at that—being quiet, being invisible. The forgotten one.
In your room, you moved like a ghost. Pulled the duffel from under the bed. Folded clothes with shaking hands. Took only what was yours: the books you’d brought, the knife your adoptive parents had given you, the photo of you and Emily from before everything went wrong. You left the flannel you’d stolen from Dean’s laundry months ago, folded neatly on the chair. You left the little notes you’d written him, still tucked in drawers. You left every piece of yourself you’d tried to give him.
You cried the whole time—silent, choking sobs you muffled in your sleeve so no one would hear.
When the bag was zipped, you slung it over your shoulder and walked down the hall one last time.
The war room was empty now. The kitchen light was off. Emily’s door was closed, soft laughter filtering through—hers and Sam’s, probably celebrating her recovery. Dean’s door was shut too.
You paused at the foot of the stairs leading up to the garage.
No one called your name.
No footsteps hurried after you.
No voice—especially not his—asked where you were going.
You pushed open the heavy door, stepped into the cold night air, and let it close behind you with a soft, final click.
The Impala sat in the garage like always, gleaming under the single bulb. You didn’t look at her long.
You walked out into the dark, bag heavy on your shoulder, tears freezing on your cheeks.
⭒ 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 : just an argument between a husband and a wife, ending sweetly.
⭒ 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 : 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
⭒ 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 : 1,5k
⭒ 𝗔/𝗡 : hiii loves, i'm a bit of a liar, it's the translation of a one shot i made in french a few months ago, but i think it works too if it hasn't been made on the instant! enjoy and don't hesitate to comment •ﻌ•
𓂃 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌, 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃
𝐁 𝐀 𝐌
Noise could be heard from the house's entrance. A lot of noise.
John Shelby was dead. He was gonna be killed by his wife, it was sure.
He was supposed to be home two hours ago, around eight p.m. He promised it yesterday morning, and the morning before that, too. He has promised it every day, for two weeks. But he never keeps his promise. If only Tommy and his damned plans of expansion could stop at seven p.m., and not after, like that, John could finally have a moment with his wife, before going to sleep.
If only Tommy could stop with his bloody ambitions.
"Damn it. Edith's gonna kill me."
John muttered under his breath for at least five long minutes, thinking about his wife's reaction. She was gonna be angry. Very angry. He came home late, every nights this week, and probably just woke up all his children, and his wife with that. All of that because of a bloody picture frame, of him and his brothers, which just fell, and broke very loudly. Tommy'll make his life miserable, even at his house, then ?
He removed his dark blue coat and hanged it on the coat rack, removed his shoes, placing them beside his wife's red heels. The ones he bought for her birthday, this year. He smiled, thinking about it.
He walked down the corridor, towards the kitchen. John unconsciously prayed that Edith had saved him a portion of the dinner she had prepared a few hours before his arrival, as she usually did. He was starving to death, and could cry if he had to go to sleep without eating.
"Be happy the kids are at Polly's, John."
He stopped dead on his tracks when he heard Edith's voice. He froze in the doorway, his wife in front of him, leaning on the kitchen's counter, a glass of red wine in her hand.
John didn't utter a single word, simply staring at her, completely stiff, like a child caught stilling candies in the kitchen's cupboards.
Edith, on the other hand, was looking at her husband, an eyebrow raised. She dipped her lips into her glass from time to time, without speaking to the man in front of her. She was waiting for his justification, or even, his reaction. Was he going to say sorry ? Walking away without speaking any words, or acting like nothing was up ? She was longing to see it.
John let out a nervous laugh, scratching the nape of his neck.
"Love…" He stepped closer "How— How are you… ?"
"I'm not doing well, John. And I think you know why, right ?"
He sighed, his arms falling at his sides. His cap was hiding his facial expression, which only made Edith angrier, even if he didn't mean it.
He finally looked up and placed his hands in his pockets, before leaning against the doorway. John was looking right into his wife's eyes, with a gaze mixing exhaustion, and a kind of underlying tension.
"'I'm sorry, love. Tommy kept me and Arthur there again."
"He kept you there every day for two weeks. This can't go on. Your children need to see you. I need to see you."
"I know, but it's complicated. Tommy needs us, more than ever."
"Because I don't need you ?" She retorted coldly.
John didn't know how to answer.
Edith was right. She was always right. More than him, at least.
Yet he did not want to admit it. As always.
John could be a real idiot, when he wanted to be.
"I can't fucked up everything for you, Edith." He retorted dryly.
Edith let out a small noise of surprise, at her husband's lack of empathy.
It's what he thinks ? That's all he has to say ?
Her husband was watching her with his blue eyes, looking at her expression. Was she going to get angry ? Starting to cry, maybe ? He certainly shouldn't have reacted like that, but John had already been on edge since that morning, when he found out about Tommy's plans for the company. He didn't need his wife to come and reproach him for things, on top of that.
His day was enough long and unpleasant.
But Edith's day too, and he didn't know that.
This morning, she didn't wake up, so she missed her meeting with the Birmingham women's rights group, a meeting she had never missed before. Shortly afterwards, she received a call at home from their eldest son's school, informing her that he had been in a fight with an older boy and had ended up with a broken nose. Later that afternoon, while reading the book she had been looking forward to reading, she spilled her glass of water on it, ruining the cover and all the pages that followed. And to top it all off, her husband was late again.
She was eager, so eager.
She had prepared his favourite dinner, with meat selected by the butcher and fresh vegetables from the market that morning. She had set out wine glasses, accompanied by a bottle she had bought especially for their sixth wedding anniversary, a few months earlier. She had left the children with Polly so that they could finally be alone and perhaps, enjoy a more intimate moment without anyone disturbing them.
Everything was perfect, except that the main element was missing.
John bloody Shelby.
Edith gently placed her glass on the counter next to her, then rested her palms on it, while staring at her husband. She would show no mercy tonight.
"You're just bloody selfish."
"What ?"
"You're just a selfish person, John."
Silence.
"You don't know what you're saying. You've been drinking."
He ran a hand over his face and sighed.
"I'm perfectly lucid, I've only had one glass of red wine."
"So that's what you really think then, eh ?"
He took a step forward, hands in his pockets, and stopped in the middle of the kitchen.
"Yes. I'd rather admit it to you than be hypocrite."
He let out a nervous laugh.
"I would have preferred hypocrisy. My day wasn't going very well already." He says quietly.
"Me too."
"You too what ?"
"Me too, I would have preferred hypocrisy."
She raised her index finger towards him, threatening him.
"I would have preferred you to say, ‘I need you too, Edith’ or ‘Yes, don't worry, I'll talk to Tommy about it'. But you obviously prefer to ruin your life for your brother, who only causes you problems and will probably get you killed one day."
She lowered her hand, now just a step away from him.
"But we can't have everything in life. So I'm going to bed and like every night, you'll come to bed when I've been asleep for at least an hour, and you'll leave tomorrow morning as if nothing had happened."
She walked past him, heading towards the kitchen door.
"Good night, John. I love you."
John stood frozen for a moment. Was she really going to leave after saying that ?
No.
No, that won't work with him.
She'll stay here with him, until everything is sorted out.
That's how it works.
So John grabbed his wife's bicep before she could take another step towards the door. He pulled her back towards him with a controlled, measured movement, as he had done so many times over a decade of living together, so as not to hurt her. He would never hurt her on purpose. John loved her too much for that.
Edith found herself pressed against her husband's chest before she even realised it, letting out a surprised gasp. Her hands automatically fell on his chest, as she was accustomed to doing, and looked up to meet his eyes.
"You could have warned me." She muttered.
"Because you would have listened to me ?" He raised an eyebrow, shifting his gaze between both her eyes.
"No. But that's no reason."
"Yes, it is. So you're going to listen to me, hm ?"
He did not let her answer.
"I love you, Edith. More than anything. So I want to make it up to you. That's what you want, isn't it ? I'll talk to Tommy, I promise. I'll tell him I can't stay after seven p.m., so I'll be back for dinner, hm ? I'll organise an evening just for the two of us, we'll eat at the best restaurant in this bloody town, and we'll spend the night fucking until the sun comes up."
She stays silent, before answering.
"That's so beautifully said."
She replied, a smile on her lips.
John snickered.
"You didn't marry me for my poetry, after all."
"That's true. But despite that, I love you. And I forgive you."
"Really ?"
"Really."
John didn't hesitate for a second.
He placed his hands on either side of Edith's jaw and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly, as he hadn't done in so long.
Summary: so imagine Jake and Neytiris eldest daughter is the black sheep of the family, so when she runs away will they ever see again?
Are you familiar with the childrens films Atlantis: the lost empire ? What about the idea that Atlantis has its own tribe of Navi's, where Y/n ends up staying?
I haven't seen Avatar: fire and ash yet, so there might not be any spoilers for the movie. Everthing here is made up.
Feel free to share any ideas you have. :)
Pt.1 Pt.2
The way to your new home was much different from what you remembered at your grandmother’s. The ground beneath your feet bounced strangely, almost alive, and each step felt both stable and uncertain at the same time. Tsireya led you along, her movements graceful and confident, as if the land itself bent to her will. The house she brought you to wasn’t like the ones you had seen before — it was carved into the cliffside like a cave, but far more open, filled with warm light and soft echoes.
“This is for you,” she said, gesturing as you stepped inside. Your mother’s face appeared in the doorway, smiling faintly. “This works, right, guys?”
You let both of your things fall to the floor. Your mother’s eyes lingered on you, but you couldn’t meet them — your father’s presence hung over the room, a silent weight. You didn’t want to look at him.
As you began unpacking, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
“Sullys, fall in.”
You and your siblings gathered in a circle, the words of your father echoing in your ears.
“I need you kids on your best behavior. I meant it. Learn fast. Pull your weight. Don’t cause trouble, got it? Especially you,” he added, glancing sharply at your brother. Yet somehow, the words seemed meant for you too.
Tuk whimpered softly. “I want to go home.”
You knelt down slowly and put a hand on her shoulder. “Tuk… it’s okay. For me, it’s hard too, but we’ll get through this together, right?”
She nodded, her small head bobbing, and you felt a lump in your throat.
“What does your father always say?” your mother asked, her voice gentle but firm.
Your siblings murmured in unison, “Sullys stick together.”
“That’s right. Sully stick together. Now this time… with some feeling.”
You lay on Tuk’s leg, brushing her hair aside, a small smile appearing on your face for your little sister. When you glanced at your mother, her eyes were already on you. She probably saw that no words came from your mouth. As everyone stood, she stepped closer.
“Ma maite… do you have a moment?”
Her eyes were clouded with worry and a quiet pain.
“Sorry, Mom. I can’t right now. I need to unpack,” you said, forcing a calm you didn’t feel. Before she could respond, you slipped away.
The next day brought your first lessons with the chief’s children. Jumping into the water with your sisters, you felt like you had entered a completely new world. Light danced through the water, scattering in colors you hadn’t noticed before. Fish darted in and out of the coral, their scales sparkling with every movement. You looked down at Tsireya and Rotxo, who moved effortlessly underwater, showing no signs of struggle.
The air near the surface grew thin for you and your siblings. Slowly, you rose, gasping for breath, the salty water clinging to your skin and hair.
As your brothers paused to catch up, you swam to Tuk, who was gasping, clutching you tightly like a little monkey. Her small hands gripped your shoulders, and you felt her trembling.
Two heads emerged from the water.
“Are you all right?”
Tuk leaned against you. “You’re too fast! Wait for us!”
“Just breathe,” Tsireya called, noticing she trying to continue despite Aonung coming up beside her. “You’re not good divers. Maybe good at swinging through trees, but—”
Before he could finish, you hissed at him.
“Careful, fish lips. Or do you want to see the sky from up close?”
He murmured a small apology, and you leaned to Lo’ak with a mischievous smirk.
“Pussy,” you whispered. Both of you tried not to laugh, hiding behind your hands.
“Come on, we don’t speak this finger talk, guys. We don’t know what you’re saying,” Neteyam said, exasperated but amused, to the three teenagers.
“I will teach you,” Tsireya said to you, smiling gently.
Before you could reply, a voice called from the edge of the camp.
“You there. Come on.”
It was the healer, brisk and insistent but not unkind.
Tuk frowned. “But… wait?”
“I’ll be fine,” you muttered, brushing past her.
The healer led you through winding paths, past the huts and training areas, your shoulders tight with tension. Something about this felt… different. Urgent, but not in a way you could name.
At the water’s edge, a larger hut glowed faintly. The healer paused.
“Ronal wants to see you. Go ahead.”
Inside, Ronal sorted herbs and supplies. Her gaze rested on you a moment longer than necessary, deliberate but not uncomfortable.
“Ah,” she said lightly, folding a bundle of cloth. “Busy day, huh?” Her tone carried observation, not judgment.
“Yes… the first lessons,” you replied, unsure what to add.
“Sit,” she gestured to a mat. “I just wanted a look at how things are going.”
You sat, feeling the floor cool beneath your legs. Ronal’s fingers moved over herbs with precise care. Then, almost casually, she said:
“You notice a lot. Little things others might miss. It’ll help you… or at least, it could. But you’re also feisty and can’t quite control your temper.”
You frowned. “Thank… you?”
She nodded as if expecting nothing more. Tilting her head slightly, her eyes narrowed just enough to feel intentional.
“Not everything that matters is said out loud. Sometimes it’s what isn’t said that counts.”
Her words felt like wind brushing past your ear, leaving an uneasy awareness you couldn’t shake. After yesterday’s outburst with the chief’s children, it wouldn’t surprise you if she had no patience for your missteps.
“Keep paying attention,” she added, standing and gathering her things. “Even when it seems like no one is. Even when it feels… small.”
Her gaze lingered, just a fraction longer than necessary. Something in it hinted at weight and importance, though she never said it outright.
Outside, the sun glinted off the water. Tuk was fidgeting, restless. You took her hand, grounding yourself, carrying the strange weight of Ronal’s quiet words. Nothing had been spelled out, yet their meaning lingered like a shadow at the edge of your mind.
The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in streaks of gold and pink. The camp felt quieter now, the lessons done and the children scattered to their huts. You walked with Tuk along the edge of the water, her small hand still in yours, feeling the warmth of her trust even as your chest still carried the weight of Ronal’s quiet words.
“You think… I did okay?” Tuk asked softly, glancing up at you.
“You did fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “Better than fine, actually. We all just need a little more practice, that’s all.”
She nodded, but her eyes were still wary, and you knew she wasn’t the only one feeling small in this new world. You glanced out at the open water, glittering with reflections of the setting sun, and wondered what the others were doing.
A familiar figure waved from near the docks. Tsireya standing there part of the group with the ilos “Hey, you! Come help us feed the ilos!”
Tuk’s eyes lit up with curiosity and a bit of fear. “I… can I?”
“You’ll be fine,” you said, kneeling to her level. “I’ll be right there with you.”
You followed them down the steps toward the feeding area, where the ilos floated lazily in their shallow pens. The air smelled faintly of salt and fish, and the sound of water slapping against the enclosure filled the space. Some of the creatures nudged each other, flicking their tails, while others glided slowly, their eyes following your every movement.
“First, you need to watch,” Tsireya instructed. “They can sense hesitation. Move confidently, even if you don’t feel it.”
You knelt by the edge of the water, letting Tuk crouch beside you. The ilos circled gently, their wide, curious eyes taking in your presence. You held out a small chunk of food, and one of the younger ilos swam forward carefully, sniffing before taking it from your hand. Tuk giggled, her tension melting away as the creature accepted the food.
“See?” you whispered. “They’re not scary if you go slow.”
Gradually, more of the ilos approached, some brushing against your arms, others nudging Tuk with gentle curiosity. The sun dipped lower, and the water reflected the fiery sky above. For the first time today, you felt a strange mix of wonder and calm, as if the day’s chaos — the lessons, the reprimands, the uncertainty — had all been leading to this moment.
You looked at Tuk, smiling as she laughed quietly while feeding an ilos that had dared to nibble at her hair. She looked at you with wide eyes, full of trust and amazement. And for the first time, you felt a quiet confidence grow inside yourself. Maybe you didn’t fully belong yet, but you could learn, you could survive… and perhaps even matter in ways you couldn’t see yet.
Sooo da is part 3 I hope you like it. Unfortunately, not so much happened, but in the next part it will be all more exciting. :)
Over the years you'd gotten used to Jake being by your side, it was typical, expected, for your mate to dote on you — but you hadn't realised just how clingy Jake could be until after the move to Awa'atlu. Of course he'd put his attention into training and learning the ways of the Metkayina, but when he wasn't needed by them? You were hardly ever alone.
You first noticed it when the mothers of the clan invited you to weave nets for fishing. Jake had even pushed you to go so you could make friends, but of course he came with you, claiming it was a good idea since Tuk had quickly befriended the other kids her age. He sat by your side the entire afternoon, much slower at weaving and eventually giving up to watch your hands move over your own net. His hand lingered behind you as you sat on the mat, leaning over your shoulder. His hair would occasionally brush past your skin and you had to remind him to back up a little. Not that you didn't mind his lingering and his proximity, he just forgot that you needed your own personal space sometimes.
Then you noticed it again soon after. Awa'atlu was beautiful, the sand and the ocean reflected the coming and fading eclipses, a treeline behind the maruis offered shade and soft grass, and the distance sound of reef fauna. You took to walking, rising earlier in the mornings and again in the late afternoon just before your family settled in for the night. Jake noticed your absence. It wasn't because he didn't trust you, or didn't think you would be unsafe or unable to take care of yourself, but he loved to see the light of the eclipse on your face. So he decided to join you, again.
Now, as you sat by the fire and roasted fish and fruit for dinner, he was by your side again. Rain had taken over Awa'atlu and so you decided to stay in the shelter of your marui for the day. The kids kept themselves entertained with crafts, Lo'ak and Neteyam determined to carve their own spears like the other Metkayina boys (despite you and Jake offering a... less sharp alternative), Kiri and Tuk were threading beads and feathers into their hair, and Spider was watching over Kiri. You smiled, seeing how they mirrored yourself and Jake.
A breath on your shoulder stole your attention away from them however, and the feeling of your mate's lips on your skin told you exactly who it was. "Ma Jake, you're lingering again." Your voice was soft, hardly accusatory, but he backed up still.
"Sorry, just missed you." He mumbled under his breath, a smirk tugging at his lips. His fangs peeked out against his lips slightly and you rolled your eyes with an endeared laugh.
"I'm right here, ma Jake. You have been practically perched on my shoulder the entire day."
"Gross, they're doing it again..." One of the kids made a disgusted noise behind you and jake only smiled wider.
"It's only because I love you." He leaned over to place a kiss on your cheek and you pushed his chest gently, a smile painted on your own face.
"If you loved me that much you would help remove the bones of these fish." His hands moved before you even had to ask twice, taking the fish from your hands and getting to work. You wiped scales off of your hands before running your hand over the top of his hair, your turn to place a kiss to his temple. His ears flicked, purpling slightly at the ends, and his tail tapped your lower back as it swung softly behind you.
Summary: When the Sullys moved to Awa’atlu Ao’nung thought they were weird, knew they were weird. He took a particular hatred towards the older Sully kids, Neteyam was the perfect little follower, Lo’ak was constantly in trouble, Kiri was always off in her own world, and you. Just you. You seemed to always ignore him and never talk, but what he didn’t know was it’s because you couldn’t hear him.
Word count: 4.4k
Author’s note: This is the longest oneshot I’ve written at 4.4k words and 9 1/2 google docs pages… Sign language will be normal font, and bold & italics will be spoken, although I try my best to show which is going on.
~Masterlist~
I Love You, I Trust You, I See You
When people thought of the Sully family many thought of your siblings. They thought of Lo’ak who was always a troublemaker, causing chaos everywhere he went. They thought of Kiri who seemed so in tune with her surroundings that she might as well be Eywa herself. They thought of Tuk who was the youngest, still enamored by everyday life. They thought of Neteyam, a strong leader who would someday take on the role of Olo’eyktan after your father.
They never thought of you.
You who always seemed to be in your own little world. You who never had any friends. You who never talked. You who always seemed so attentive to the world around you, yet had no desire to join it.
When you were born after your twin Neteyam, a spike of fear had run through everyone in the room when you began to cry, but no sound came out. They feared you may not be breathing right, you may need your airways cleared. They feared something was wrong, and that was true.
When your parents or siblings thought about your family, they thought about you. They thought about how funny you were, always cracking jokes when there was a chance. They thought about how kind you were, taking a moment to check on everyone daily. They thought about how different you were than most.
They thought about you. You who couldn’t hear.
You always seemed to be in your own world, and that drew many away from you, they didn’t want to be friends with someone who they didn’t think was paying attention to them, and to be fair you weren’t paying attention to people most of the time. You preferred to direct your attention to the world around you, always keeping an eye out as you couldn’t hear danger coming.
When you had been caught by Quaritch and his men you had panicked, more than everyone else at least. You didn’t know what was going on, you didn’t know what they were saying, your lip reading was not dependable, and definitely not in english.
When your siblings arms were bound you couldn’t keep yourself calm, now you had no way of communicating, they couldn’t translate for you. Tears streamed down your face, eyes closed as tight as possible to try to calm yourself by blocking out the outside world.
When you felt your captor’s grip on your release your eyes shot open, looking around at the damage around you, multiple avatars dead on the ground. Then you ran, you ran faster than ever before in the first direction you saw.
You ran and ran, eyes trained on everything around you, and when you ran into someone and they grabbed you again it was like a shock. You let out a scream, the first noise anyone had ever heard you make. A noise nobody was aware you could make.
You turned to dead weight in an attempt to get out of their grasp, panic coursing through you again as your eyes couldn’t come into focus. However, the person dropped to the ground with you, pulling your face towards them and holding it still as you tried to thrash. Then they blew air into your face, and you realized you were safe.
When you were younger you would throw temper tantrums, as children do, where you would close your eyes to refuse to listen to your parents. Not being able to see them meant no sign language, which meant no having to listen to them. However your father found one thing always worked, blowing air on your face. Your eyes would shoot open, highly offended with your mouth dropped open, before you would sign at him, “Your breath is gross.” in retaliation.
You had never been more relieved for your dad’s stupid way of getting you to listen. Your eyes finally came into focus and you calmed down seeing his face, but that calm quickly turned into crying, sobbing. You couldn’t help but let out all of the pent up emotion inside of you, but eventually you calmed down and were able to stand back up, staggering your way home with the rest of your family.
Some time later when your parents had been arguing in your family kelku you hadn’t been paying attention as your siblings were, all huddled against the wall. You had been lost in your own world once again, not wanting to know what was being said as you were still processing what had happened earlier. You didn’t need anything on top of that as you feared it would make your careful stack of emotions you had constructed come tumbling down.
They had come tumbling down though as your parents announced you were moving, leaving. Leaving everything you had ever known, your home, your grandmother, the forest you loved so much. You couldn’t help it as you cried again, being held by your mother this time.
However as you thought about it you weren’t that sad. You had always liked the water, everyone not having to hear underwater made you feel more included, more like you belonged, and you had heard the Metkayina used sign language. Maybe this would be a chance to make friends for the first time in your life. Maybe you would be able to talk to people for once, nobody at home taking the time to learn American Sign Language, as your father had called it, like your family had.
One thing you hadn't taken into account was that they used a different version of sign language, but that had become very apparent when you first jumped into the water with Tsireya, Ao’nung, and Rotxo. They used signs you had never seen before, ones you didn’t recognize. You couldn’t help but feel a little beaten down at dinner, staying quieter than usual, not signing as much.
Afterwards your dad had asked you to step outside, waving a hand towards you as he exited the marui.
He sat down on the pathway, and you knew he expected you to join him, so you did. You sat next to him with your feet dangling in the water, looking out towards the horizon, refusing to look at him so you didn't have to have a conversation.
That didn’t last long though as he poked you in the arm, causing you to look at him offended, mouth open and eyebrows raised. He took this as his chance to speak, “You okay, kid?” He signed.
You sighed deeply, fidgeting with your hands before signing, “I’m okay, dad.”
You could tell he didn’t believe you, lips pressed together in a thin line and eyebrows furrowed, “You’re less talkative. What’s wrong?” He signed, proving he didn’t think you were telling the truth.
A frown came to your face, feeling like it was permanently there after the past few days or so, but you continued, “I’m disappointed.”
He raised his eyebrows, surprise and confusion on his face, “About what?”
You looked away from his face, instead choosing to watch his hands, you didn’t want to see the pity on his face, “We don’t speak the same language. I can’t communicate. Everyone else can at least talk to each other.”
His face softened, but you didn’t see it, “It’ll be okay. You’re a fast learner, so you will learn their language quickly, then you can make friends. If anyone actually wants to be your friend.” He meant it playfully, and you saw him laugh, so jammed your elbow in his ribs.
Then the conversation was over, your mom poking her head out of the doorway and saying something to your dad. He just stood up and gave you a look like he was asking, “You good?” and you nodded, “Yes.” back in return.
After your father’s words of encouragement you decided to work harder, learn faster, determined to be able to communicate with the people around you, and a few weeks later you were excelling whereas your siblings were still struggling. They were caught up on the differences of Metkayina sign language versus ASL but you had grasped that there weren’t differences, or similarities, and you would just be learning from scratch.
Even though you were doing well at it, working your way towards being fluent, you were worried about talking to the people, mostly because of one person in particular, Ao’nung. It was as if Ao'nung was determined to ruin your siblings' lives, and yours, but you didn’t know that.
You had seen Ao’nung’s attempts to cause hell for your siblings, nagging at them, laughing at them, and even trying to start fights, with Lo’ak in particular. Him messing with your siblings made you frustrated, but you weren’t aware of the taunts meant to make you upset, and laughing that was meant to make you feel like a target coming towards you from a distance.
The bullying towards your siblings had become more and more frustrating and you had begun showing your anger at home, being rougher with things than usual, and not wanting to go outside of the shared family marui.
It had been peaceful while you and your mom had been working on dinner, but she noticed you seemed to be far off, handling the food with rougher hands, “Are you okay, (Y/n).” Neytiri signed as you placed another fish over the fire.
You rolled your eyes at her, upset she was even insinuating something was wrong. In reality there was, but you didn’t want to admit that, “Yes mama, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” She had asked back, concern on her face as she looked at you closely.
You signed, “Yes.” Trying to end the conversation, but you knew she would just keep pushing.
You saw your mom think for a moment, her face scrunching up in concentration, “Well I am not.”
You frowned more, once again feeling like it had always been there since you left the forest, “Not what?”
She was frowning too now, “I’m not sure you’re fine. I see you isolating yourself. Even from me and your father.” She grabbed your hands, squeezing them gently to show her love in a little way.
Tears welled in your eyes, frustrated tears, tears that came because with all the stress recently they were the only way your brain knew how to process, to cope.
You pulled your hands from hers to wipe at them, “I’m sorry.” was all you could say.
She wiped the tears falling down your face before saying, “Why?”
You sniffled, running your hands down your face before signing, “I see Lo’ak, Kiri, and Neteyam being picked on, and there is nothing I can do. I can’t stand up to the bullies. I can’t say anything.”
“Okay, well soon you will be able to say something. You are learning their sign language, yes? I’ve heard from your siblings you are out working them.” She smiled at you and you could really see how proud of you she was.
You couldn’t help but crack a little smile although tears still threatened to fall, “Yes, mama. I’m getting better, but I’m worried it will be too late though.”
“I’m sure you will do your best, my ‘ite.” She thought for a second, “Why don’t you go try to talk to these kids tomorrow?”
You sighed, you didn’t want to, but you knew your mom would nag you until you agreed, “Okay. Love you.”
She smiled lovingly at you, “Love you too.” before pulling you into a hug.
When tomorrow came you didn’t even want to leave your marui, but you found the strength to do so. You did some of the breathing exercises Tsireya had taught you to try to calm your nerves, and they worked for the most part, steadying you and clearing your head.
However as soon as you stepped outside your marui you regretted it, not wanting to do what you had promised to your mother, but you knew you had to eventually. Eventually, which meant you could fool around as long as you wanted beforehand, and so you decided to settle down for a quick nap on the beach.
When you laid down and closed your eyes you quickly and easily fell asleep. You were still tired from last night when you struggled to sleep from your anxious thoughts.
When the Sullys moved to Awa’atlu Ao’nung thought they were weird, knew they were weird. He took a particular hatred towards the older Sully kids, Neteyam was the perfect little follower, Lo’ak was constantly in trouble, Kiri was always off in her own world, and you. Just you. You seemed to always ignore him and never talk, but what he didn’t know was that it's because you couldn’t hear him.
Ao’nung tried to not let anything get to him, especially when it came to people he didn’t like, like the Sullys, but for some reason you, (Y/n) Sully, had peeved him more than anyone or anything else. He had grown tired of you ignoring him when he shouted or laughed at you, like you didn’t even notice he was there, tired of you flat out avoiding him sometimes as you scurried away when he tried to approach you.
Of course he knew why, he had the same intentions to bully you and make you feel unwanted in Awa’atlu as your siblings. Of course you didn’t want this so you spent most of your time avoiding him, but for some reason instead of him not caring about it, it made him want to get under your skin even more.
When the sun rose today he decided today was the day to act. Today he would confront you head on, face to face. He would make you notice him, and he would make you feel awful in the process. So he gathered his friends, his goons, and they set off to find you.
They first checked with Tsireya who was with the rest of your siblings, but you were nowhere to be found, they all insisted they hadn’t seen you. Then they combed the beach, going from one end to the other, and on the far end they found you peacefully asleep on the soft sand.
He couldn’t help but notice how cute you looked asleep and peaceful, but he quickly shook it off, shouting at you, “Wake up, freak!”
He was targeting your extra finger and the hair above your eyebrows, like he had your siblings because he knew that got to them, and hoped it would do the same to you.
When you didn’t stir he tried shouting again, assuming you were awake, but trying to act asleep to avoid him, “What is wrong with you? Do you not care or are you stupid avoiding me?”
His friends laughed at you when you still didn’t move, eyes not cracking open and your breathing staying the same, so he took the next step, trying something physical. He kicked sand up and over you and finally you stirred, sitting straight up and looking around for the source of the sand, and when you saw him your heart dropped, a lump forming in your throat.
“There we go, now you are paying attention.” He snickered.
You tried to read his lips, but he spoke too fast, and you just stayed silent. You cocked your head to the side, eyebrows drawn together in a look of confusion.
You hesitated for a second, but were about to sign something when he spoke again. “Do you not speak? A silent freak, interesting.” You still didn’t understand exactly what he was saying, but his friends all laughed at you, and although you couldn’t hear it it made you feel small.
“I’m sorry. I can not hear you.” You signed, using Metkayina sign language this time.
He scoffed, “I do not believe that. I think you just don’t want us to bother you, but here we are.” He laughed in your face.
“Please use your hands.” You tried to communicate, but they just wouldn’t listen to you.
“No.” He sneered, this you understood, one single word.
Your mouth dropped open, offense written all over it. You knew he was disrespectful, didn’t care about others feelings, but you would make him care, “I can not hear. I am deaf.”
He was about to retort against you again, but when he had been searching for you earlier that day Neteyam knew he meant trouble, so when he found you he stayed in the shadows, watching, but now Ao’nung had taken it too far.
He surged forwards, anger consuming him, “Step off bro. She can’t hear you.”
“Yeah that is what she just said.” He rolled his eyes, “I do not care though, it is better if she can not hear me. Means I can make fun of her without her knowing.” He signed the last part so you could understand.
You shrunk back, standing to hide behind Neteyam. You tugged on his arm, “It’s okay.” You signed.
“It’s not okay, (Y/n).” He rubbed a hand down his face, turning to Ao’nung, “You need to leave her alone.”
“Whatever.” Ao’nung scoffed before turning and walking away.
Now he knew why you seemed to ignore him, you just didn’t know he was talking to you. You were probably avoiding him because you didn’t know their sign language yet. He felt bad for some reason. He usually wouldn’t feel bad about his bullying but with you it felt different now knowing this.
He couldn’t show his feelings though, worried about his little group making fun of him, but he slowly started to back off of you, and your siblings some as well. Whenever one of his “friends” would ask why, he would reply something like “We can not make fun of a cripple.” and roll his eyes, still a jab at you, but less so.
At some point you became all that consumed his thoughts, on his mind at all times, and whenever he would see you with his sister, or your siblings, he would feel the need to insert himself into the conversation, but he always refrained. He wanted to talk to you, to apologize, but he feared judgment from his “friends” who are just as nasty as he was.
Eventually he couldn’t hold it in anymore, heading to your marui to ask to talk with you, in the way you would understand. When he knocked on the doorway of the family home Lo’ak was the first to notice him, glaring at him and nudging Neteyam in the side, directing his attention towards Ao’nung.
Neteyam stood before either of his parents even noticed the boy in the doorway, stalking over to him and dragging him down the pathway so they could talk, “What do you want?” He hissed out.
Ao’nung cleared his throat, but the words still came out small, nervous, “I came to apologize to (Y/n)...”
“No.” Was all Neteyam said before turning away and starting to walk back into the Sully family’s home.
Ao’nung grabbed his arm before he got too far away, “Please. Please let me talk to her.” He begged, something he didn’t like to do, but it was necessary.
Neteyam sighed, “Fine, but if you do anything I will chop your head off myself.” He threatened the boy, “I’ll go get her.”
It wasn’t long before you stepped out of the marui, a frown on your face and hands he could see shaking, “What do you want?” You signed, hands shaking with nerves.
“I came to say sorry.” He started off, “I’m sorry for bullying you, and your siblings. I promise I won’t do it any more.”
“And?” You asked, knowing there was more.
He looked nervous now, hands shaking as he signed, “I wanted to extend the offer of friendship.”
You looked shocked now, “You want to be friends with me?”
He nodded his head, smiling shyly, “Yes. Absolutely.”
You smiled this time, relieved he would be leaving your siblings alone, and excited to learn more about him, about what he was really like under the bad boy shell, “Okay, friend.”
He just nodded at you, “I have to go now. See you at lessons with Tsireya tomorrow?”
“Of course.” You responded.
When you entered the marui again everyone's eyes were on you, a light blush on your face, “I made a friend.” You smiled.
You could see your parents cheering and clapping for you, but your siblings' faces were unsure, you would have to reassure them later but for now you were all having a family night, playing games and handing out things you had made for each other with the new resources you were getting used to using. They were clunky and awkward, but you would get better, it reminded you of something, of someone.
As days passed into weeks you and Ao’nung had grown closer, him pretty much taking over your lessons, stealing you away from Tsireya who was sad to see you go, but happy for her brother for making a friend, a real friend, not one of his goons that tended to hover around him at all times. You had seemingly broken down his bad boy aesthetic and his goons had since left him, moving onto another leader to follow, still as nasty as ever.
You were grateful for him letting his walls down around you, allowing you to see him, and soon you did. You saw him as more than you ever had before. You couldn’t help but think about courting him, of trading little handmade gifts, and sharing little intimate moments of happiness throughout the day.
It seemed as if he wanted the same as he began bringing you gifts, starting as a little armband he made from you out of hard to find shells he had spent many hours trying to find, then it moved onto necklaces and bracelets. Each was more intricate than the last.
When this started you began to bring him things too, poorly made things because using dried seaweed and palm leaves were different from the materials of the jungle, but you managed. Even though they weren’t the best quality he proudly wore them, gladly accepting every gift you would give.
Everyone had noticed by now, the traded jewelry, the touches that lingered a little too long, and the longing looks when you weren’t together. What baffled people most however was not Ao’nung’s seemingly peaceful side coming out, but the fact that neither of you had officially come out and asked if you were courting.
You were courting, you both knew that, but Ao’nung wanted to put it into words, he wanted to make it official, but he felt the need to fix a couple things first, to get a couple blessings.
So he went to the person he thought would be easiest first, your mom. She had seen you two from afar and already had talked to you about it, encouraging you to pursue him and get what you wanted. She had said she was not Tsahík, but Eywa had shown her signs. So when Ao’nung asked she immediately gave him her blessing, knowing this was something not just he wanted, but something you wanted too.
Then he went to your dad. He was a fierce warrior who commanded respect, and Ao’nung tried his best to be respectful, carefully wording his proposal of courting his daughter. Of course Jake had been hesitant at first, but eventually he caved after Ao’nung had mentioned he already had Neytiri’s blessing.
Finally he went to Neteyam, your twin brother, your best friend since birth. Neteyam was adamantly against it, wanting nothing to do with Ao’nung, and wanting his sister to have nothing to do with him either. He was still on the edge of forgiving Ao’nung, swaying over a cliff where falling meant forgiving Ao’nung for his wrong doings, and when Ao’nung explained his love for you, his intentions to never hurt you and treat you with the respect you deserve Neteyam fell over the cliff, giving the Metkayina boy his blessing.
Once he had gotten their blessings he had invited you to the beach where he had first intentionally seeked you out. You were hesitant to go back there with him, but you gave in, trusting him wholeheartedly.
You love him. You trust him. You see him.
When you got there he pulled you to sit down with him, you both facing each other, and he signed, letting his heart out, letting his feelings show, “I am sorry for any times I have hurt you. I was an ass and a fool, and I wish I had never caused you upset or harm. I am sorry for bullying your siblings too, they did not deserve it, but I was scared by the new people and what they would bring. I now see I should have helped like my sister. I should have been making you feel at home here, not doing the opposite.”
“It’s okay. We’re past that.” You reassured him.
He nodded, continuing, “Now I see how special you are. I see how much you’ve changed me and my views on life. I am grateful for the person you have shaped me into. I am grateful I got the chance to make it up to you. I want to court you. Officially.”
You felt your heart swell, butterflies in your stomach, and you were sure it was showing on your face, “I would love that.”
You moved your hands carefully to cup his face, holding it there as you looked into his eyes, hoping he understood how grateful you were for him too, then you pulled him in, lips brushing against each other before they fully made contact. It was magical, unlike anything you had felt before, and you were happy it was him making you feel this way. So happy, so loved.
When you pulled apart he smiled widely at you, grabbing your hands and giving them a gentle but tight squeeze before using them to say, “I see you. I see you.”
You sign your thoughts from earlier, “I love you, I trust you, I see you.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just smiles, and pulls you back in for another kiss, and you feel at peace. You know he is yours, and you are his. You know he will never leave you, and you will never leave him. You know he loves you, and you love him. You know he sees you, and you see him.
pixelskylines
areudirty
vaporwave
origamiaround
izzy806
jacobvanloon
stormborns
snowghoul
andulkaphoto
germansingergirl
