⟡ neteyam won’t let anyone have an attitude with you. he DOES NOT tolerate a single second of disrespect toward his mate.
☼ fem! na’vi reader, sfw, some vague threats from neteyam to the one disrespecting you, protective neteyam, lots of fluff. neteyam is a sweet boy.
⟡ yes, i did pull inspiration from the way of water when neteyam stands toe to toe with aounung, what about it?
⟡ and i know it’s not “canon compliant” for reader to be tsahik in training and mated to neteyam whose going to be olo’eyktan, but idgaf. it’s my fic, none of this is canon anyways considering the ending of the way of water so… *shrugs*
⟡ m.list
A sharp gasp comes from below, the wounded Na’vi flinching from your gentle hand. “Ow! Watch it,” he hisses, turning his head to snarl at you.
Your ears twitch in irritation, yet you give him an apologetic smile nevertheless. “Of course, Teylan. I am only trying to heal you. I will be more careful.”
He faces forward, mumbling something under his breath. You dip your fingers into medicinal paste made of yalna bark, steadying your hand as you smear it along another cut on Teylan’s back. It’s near his shoulder, not too deep or long, and you hold your breath.
Sighing softly in relief, the tension unfurls from your spine when he makes no move to resist.
The healing chamber inside the Hometree provides enough privacy, but you can hear other Omatikaya bustling about through the curtain of hanging vines.
“Teylan,” you say carefully. “The wound I’m about to treat has cut you deep, it will be quite painful no matter how delicate I am.” You gather more paste on your fingers.
“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child,” he bites. “I am able to withstand the pain. Get on with it.”
You are a child, you think irritably. Which rings true, because he is still very young. Younger than you, at least. Your tail flicks in jerky movements as you press your lips together and gingerly place your fingers to the top of the cut, dragging the paste further down.
Teylan’s tail thrashes wildly, flinging the bowl of paste across the room. He leaps to his feet and whirls around, lip curled. “I told you to be careful! What kind of tsahik in training are you?”
You rise to your feet slowly, hands held up in defense. “Mawey, Teylan. I already told you it would be painful. You do not want to do this.”
He steps closer, ignoring your subtle hint. “You don’t deserve—,”
Suddenly there’s a hand on his arm, cutting him short and wrenching him from your space, shoving him several feet backwards. Teylan trips and stumbles, eyes wide.
“That’s enough,” Neteyam warns through his teeth. “Back off. Now.” He stands tall in front of you like a shield, looking every inch like the warrior he is. You edge closer, peeking out from behind Neteyam’s arm with a smug smile. Your mates tail winds protectively around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
No doubt you could handle this yourself. Neteyam is just so attractive when he’s like this.
Teylan stares, fists clenched at his sides, ears pinned to his skull. “Why should I?” He taunts, looking like he wants to spew more insults. He wisely keeps his mouth shut.
“If you say another word, I will slice your tongue from your skull.” Neteyam stalks forward, dragging you behind him. He lowers his voice, threatening as he says, “Never disrespect my mate again—,” he jabs Teylan in the chest, who instinctively steps back. “You will find yourself thrown from atop an ikran mid flight if you do.”
Teylan’s ears droop. The angry expression he’s trying to maintain splinters, exposing the fear below. He sniffs. Then he nods.
“Get out of my sight, child.”
Teylan bolts through the vines, disappearing within the second. Neteyam’s posture relaxes, tail uncurling from your waist.
“Ma Neteyam,” you say, fond and amused, trailing your fingers down his bicep. “You know I am capable of handling my own problems.”
Neteyam’s ears perk as he spins to face you. Slender fingers and calloused palms cradle your cheeks as if he’s holding something delicate. “Ma sevin,” he pleads. “Understand my position.” You raise your hands, circling your fingers around his wrists. “If you overheard someone disrespecting me, would you not step in? Would it not boil your blood?”
“I would do the same,” you agree with a grin. You bump your foreheads together. “But you are in trouble, ma Neteyam.”
He lets out a wounded little noise, dropping his hands as he straightens. “I am in trouble?” He asks incredulously. “I am a mighty warrior, I cannot be in trouble.”
“Well this mighty warrior is in trouble,” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “The future Olo’eyktan cannot threaten young warriors—,” You raise an eyebrow. “Especially not ones who will be under his command.”
“I was defending your honor,” Neteyam says with a pout, tail flicking back and forth.
You wave him off. “Yes, yes, I am aware ma Neteyam.”
You start to clean the paste that’s spattered everywhere, expecting Neteyam to follow, but when you glance over your shoulder he’s sulking in the corner. You roll your eyes, biting back a smile, and spin to face him once more.
“Come here, mighty warrior,” you beckon, curling a finger his way.
Neteyam lights up, saddling up close to you. You tug on one of his braids until he dips down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead. He hums low in his chest, smiling.
“Irayo, ma paskalin.”
⋆˙⟡ sevin : pretty, beautiful
⋆˙⟡ irayo : thank you
⋆˙⟡ paskalin : sweet berry
⋆˙⟡ mawey : be calm
