The Silence Between the Waves - Neteyam Sully x fem metkayina reader (TBA)
Summary: Among the reefs, unspoken feelings grow between Neteyam and Rotxo's older sister. Bound by responsibility to their families and wary of the dangers that follow the Sullys, both choose restraint over confession. Yet in the quiet moments between battles, glances and unfinished words begin to speak louder than either of them intended.
Sharp Hands, Soft Heart - Neteyam Sully x fem Omatikaya reader (IN PROGRESS)
Summary: Kind-hearted yet precise. She hides her gentleness behind her strength. As Neteyam grows close to her, he is one of the few who truly sees and protects the softness she tries to conceal.
part one
part two
part three
part four
part five
part six
Eywa's Stranger - Neteyam Sully x fem Avatar reader (TBA)
Summary: Humans returned to Pandora. She was among them. Raised on the stories of its beauty and riches, she longed to see the world of green and blue. Working with the RDA, she followed orders until she could not. Turning against them, she ran away, leaving blood on her trail. The price was steep. Cut off from her human body, she was left stranded in her avatar forever. A stranger to both worlds.
Oneshots
Goodness
Late-night Outings Part 2
Mine Will Come Part 2 Part 3
Shy
Near
Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan
Miniseries
From The Sky - Lo'ak Sully x fem Omatikaya reader (TBA)
Summary: Lo'ak quite literally falls into her life. Landing into her gather basket of a weaver. To him, it's their first meeting. To her, it isn't. The more he returns to her silence, the deeper he begins to fall.
Oneshots
I Always Hear You
Sit Still
Scent
for now
cheer me on
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His body formed a solid wall at your back. You could feel the heat of him, the controlled rise and fall of his breathing, the faint scent of forest resin and clean skin. He reached around without asking, settled the bow into your hands, and adjusted your grip with brisk, impersonal fingers.
"Feet here. Elbow high. Sight along the arrow. The heart sits behind the front shoulder." His voice remained cool, instructional, stripped of anything softer. Yet his closeness to your warm, injured skin made the air around you feel narrower. You drew the string as he directed. The arrow flew, missed the nearest animal by a clear handspan, and buried itself into the dirt. The creature raised its head, ears flicking, but did not flee. A quiet sound left the young warrior, something between a breath and a humourless note.
"Again," he commanded. "And this time actually aim for the Sturmbeest."
Summary: Stolen from the Sarentu clan and raised beneath the tyrannical watch of the RDA, you learnt early that being Na’vi did not mean you belonged among them. The only piece of your old life you had left was your sister, Aha’ri, and the stories she told you and the other envoys about the world beyond the walls of the The Ambassador Programme.
Then John Mercer took that from you too.
Years later, you escape the programme with little more than fractured memories, grief, an encyclopaedic knowledge of RDA operations and little idea of how to survive the world your body was supposedly made for. When the Omatikaya find you barely alive, Toruk Makto offers you a place among them, in exchange for everything you knows about the RDA. But the surviving the clan may prove harder than escaping the Sky People. Especially when you are placed under the care of rising clan leader, Neteyam Sully. To him, you are Sky People. RDA. Enemy. To you, he is everything you have only ever heard about in stories. Yet he is also everything that is holding you back from true belonging. Neither of you are prepared for the formidable wall between your rivalry and understanding to fall.
Chapters 1–2 follow your escape from the RDA’s TAP facility, your first few weeks with the Omatikaya, and the beginning of a strained relationship neither you nor Neteyam expected.
Content: 18+ mdni, neteyam x fem! na’vi reader, enemies to lovers, feisty reader who matches neteyam, aged up neteyam, slow burn, mature themes, protagonist insecurity in indentity and belonging, masturbation, avatar frontiers of Pandora and James Cameron avatar films mix, future smut, descriptions of injuries, mentions of grief and death
WC: 10.4k
Chapter One
Aha'ri was supposed to be the one who led you to victory. The leader. The freedom-fighter. The sister who would finally break free from the colonising, physically torturous grip of the RDA's Ambassador Programme.
"They wouldn't last two seconds on Pandora soil," she would always say, her fingers combing slowly through your coal-ink hair while she hummed what she called a war song from the clan you could no longer remember. You retained nothing of your parents, your village, or the life that had been burned away when the RDA raided and massacred your people. Aha'ri remembered. She carried the fragments - small, stubborn facts about the Sarentu, about rivers and songs and the way your mother had once braided fibre - and offered them to you at night like secret rations. Those pieces, and her determined defiance, were what kept you afloat from sinking into complete acceptance of the RDA's version of the world.
The Ambassador Programme, TAP, was presented as a second chance. The founder, John Mercer, spoke of it with the calm certainty of a man who had already decided the future. Earth was dying. Humanity would come to Pandora in full. The two species would merge into a single, harmonious civilisation, resources shared and conflict unnecessary. Your class of ten, and the First Generation of Na'vi envoys, was proof of this concept. You would learn human history, advanced science and engineering, and rigorous military conditioning so that native blood could carry human knowledge. You would become the bridge - Na'vi bodies equipped with human weapons and the expertise to use them. Those who could not adapt, Mercer said, would not survive.
Most of the others accepted it. They had known no other life. According to Mercer, the earlier, more brutish troops of RDA forces had destroyed your clan, and that he and TAP had rescued the remaining children, giving them purpose and a future. You believed enough of it to survive. But Aha'ri never did. She challenged tutors, corrected "facts" mid-lesson, and spoke of the Sky People with a contempt that made some classmates laugh and others scowl as if she'd said something about their mother. You only watched. You admired the unbroken certainty in her, and you wondered, not for the first time, how she could remember so much of your shared past, your heritage, when you held none.
One afternoon, when you were 14 and the day's lessons had ended, Mercer entered the classroom for a special announcement. "It's exciting," he said, "to watch young people learn so quickly about the new way of life for Pandora. I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that next term's curriculum will focus on weaponry and firearms, more action than the business and economics studies you completed this semester." His smile was wide, almost hungry, yearning for the taste of approval from his superiors.
Aha'ri's voice rose from the back of the room, where she had been banished at the start of the year. "Metal and guns are not natural to the way of Eywa, or to Pandora. They might seem strong now, but the Na'vi have reigned here for millions of years. We know this planet. We know how to destroy foreigners, even without metal. You cannot be this stupid." Gasps cut the air. It was not the first time she had called him stupid, but it was the first time she had said it to his face.
Mercer clapped once, hard, and the room fell still. He walked toward her, heels striking the bare tile. Aha'ri did not stop. She stepped up onto her heavy, silver metal chair so that she towered over him. "We are Sarentu," she said, looking around at the rest of you, "and we always will be." Then she began the soft war song she had hummed to you so many nights. One by one, other voices joined, hesitant at first, then stronger, until the classroom held a thin, but defiant melody. Mercer's face smoothed. Something colder settled behind his eyes. He snapped his fingers at the two armed men who had entered with him. A single shot cracked through the humming. One clean bullet through Aha'ri's chest. She dropped where she stood. The light left her ocean-blue eyes before her body finished falling.
"No!" The word tore out of you before you realised you had spoken. Your hand reached toward her across the sudden, absolute silence. All the other times you had stayed silent, watching, waiting, letting Aha'ri carry the defiance for both of you, rushed up at once like a debt you could never repay.
With an arrogant look on his face, Mercer walked slowly back towards the front of the classroom, watching with what you were sure was a snide smirk creeping up on his face as he watched the other students, the students you and your sister had grown up with all these years, those who'd been subjected to her stories, facts and retelling of traditions late at night, clambered towards her now lifeless body. He didn't have to say a word, if he did it would've been a mockery of your grief. His look sent a silent message to all in the room, even beyond the students, 'those who cannot adapt, will not survive.'
But you knew Aha'ri had never been incapable of adapting. She had simply refused. The day of her cold, ruthless murder was the day the last of your divided loyalty died. You had no memories of the clan, no faces of parents, no songs that belonged to you. Everything you knew - language, discipline, the shape of a future - had been given to you by the RDA. They had raised you. They had fed you the story that they alone had pulled the surviving children from the ashes of a destroyed village and given them purpose. For years that debt sat heavy in your chest, keeping you lukewarm, never fully free. Aha'ri's death burned the debt away. Privately, quietly, you turned against them. You would not become one of them.
So you began to plan your escape.
At first it was only you. Then, after witnessing the same brutality turned on one of their own, three more from the class stepped quietly into the secret: Nor, Ri'nela, and Teylan. The next five years passed in careful, invisible increments. You were fifteen when the first cautious conversations happened in the narrow spaces between drills and lights-out. By sixteen you had begun mapping the facility's weaker cameras and the shift patterns of the guards. At seventeen the four of you tested small acts of misdirection: misplaced tools, delayed reports, learning how much scrutiny you could survive. Eighteen and nineteen were spent refining routes, caching what little gear you could risk, and waiting for the single window when security would be stretched thin enough to give you a chance.
At twenty, nearing the end of the senior programme, your plans came to fruition. The night before you were a nervous wreck, clutching at the Songcord Aha'ri left behind. 'Songcord'. Your sister had explained to you a few times what it was, but you never got the grasp of it, or the feeling she displayed of perfect peace and belonging. Still, you held it tightly towards your chest, a silent promise to honour your sister and the cause she fought for, she died for.
D-day began like any other. The same drills, the same grey corridors, the same distilled meals. You had chosen evening rather than full night. Security thickened after dark, but during the dinner shift change the cameras and patrols left a narrow window of lower visibility. That was the gap that granted your freedom.
But another classmate, one of the most loyal to the RDA, Kip'na, had been watching longer than any of you realised. Quiet, compliant, always first to recite Mercer's lessons, she had noticed the too-careful glances, the missing minutes after lights-out, the way Teylan's pack sat heavier than it should. An hour before the window opened she walked stridently toward the duty officer and spoke your names, a child reporting mischief to their parent. By the time you reached the research centre's back entrance, the soldiers were already in position.
The first shots tore the half-light apart. Nor dropped where he stood, the sound sharp and final. Ri'nela dragged him two desperate steps before a second burst folded her against the wall. Teylan shoved the supply pack toward you, trying to draw their fire. The rounds continued forcefully through the air and he disappeared from your line of sight without a cry. You alone broke from the planned line, slamming through a service gate and scrambling along the outer fence as bullets sparked off the metal behind you. You forced an unused maintenance exit open, an area none of you had marked, and squeezed through the narrow gap. Finally, the facility's recycled air fell away....
Pandora air hit your skin and filled your lungs as if it had been waiting for you. The forest stood illuminated in soft bioluminescence, every leaf and trunk edged with quiet light. Above the canopy a wide sunset burned gold and violet, the sky itself acknowledging the moment. You did not stop running. Fear and adrenaline drove you in equal measure. Only once did you glance back toward the facility, then faced forward again. Your legs moved with a freedom the indoor gym had never allowed, the ground uneven and alive beneath your bare, four-toed feet. Only when the first sharp ache registered in your upper arm did you slow. A bullet had grazed you, tearing a shallow but ugly line through skin and muscle. From your studies, you knew the wound was not fatal, yet the pain flared white-hot, like someone had pressed a heated wire against the bone. The supplies had been with Teylan. You had nothing. Crouching among the roots, you used your fingers to work the remaining fragment free, then tore a strip from your own sleeve and bound the arm as tightly as you could. This should do for now, you told yourself, and forced your body upright once more.
The next few days proved harder than you had imagined. The air, the soft undergrowth, the living green of the forest all felt natural against your native Na'vi skin, yet the years inside TAP had left you with almost nothing useful for true Pandorian survival. You carried maps of terrain best suited for unobtainium extraction and a basic list of plants and animals marked hazardous or useful. There was no instruction in reading the forest itself, no practice in the quiet knowing Aha'ri had once called the true gift of being Na'vi. You moved anyway, deeper into the layered world of moss-draped trunks, glowing spores that drifted like slow embers, and vines that pulsed with strong blue light.
Ri'nela's carefully hoarded RDA rations were gone with her. Teylan had carried the medical kit. All that remained were the few grey, tasteless bars Nor used to pass you after every meal he could not finish. You portioned them carefully, one small piece at a time, and cupped river water to your scratched face whenever the current pulled you farther East. Now and then large herd animals appeared between the trees. Broad-backed, six-limbed creatures with sweeping horns patterned in faded greens and oranges, standing motionless as you passed. Around them the flora shifted in impossible colours, some of it stinging your legs with sharp, electric snaps or noxious gases when you brushed too close.
As the days stretched, your steps grew heavier. Your arm throbbed in a low, constant rhythm. You found yourself stopping more often, staring at nothing, the bright world around you somehow flatter than it had been on the first evening. Near dusk on the third day, you settled against the mouth of a shallow cave, too exhausted to push farther. You woke the next morning to a pounding headache and the thin RDA blanket soaked beneath your cheek. A distant animal cry cut through the trees, the sound driving straight into the wound. You bolstered yourself up nonetheless. You had no choice. Mercer would not have stopped his search this soon. You forced your legs forward even as the heat in your arm spread and your vision began to narrow at the edges. By midday, the ground tilted under every step. You recognised the signs of infection, the dirt under your own nails when you had pulled the fragment free, the lack of anything clean to bind it, yet there was no other choice. You kept walking, stumbling.
Late light returned in the same burning gold and violet that had met you on the night of your escape. But this time it felt less like welcome and more like a closing door. Your concentration slipped. You caught yourself on a broad tree root and stayed there longer than you meant to. The arm burned with a deep, wet heat, sweat running into your eyes. The forest sounds came and went in uneven waves. You tried to keep your eyes open, afraid of what might find you if you slept, but your lids grew heavier with each laboured breath. A sharp crack of wood somewhere ahead snapped your head up. Your ears turned toward the sound before the rest of you could follow. One blue figure stood between the trees, then a second slightly behind it. Relief hit so hard it almost buckled your knees.
"Aha'ri!"
The name left you in a bright, broken rush, but the figures did not answer. Your body decided the matter for you. The last clear thing you felt was the soft give of moss under your cheek as your consciousness went out.
What felt like an instant after the dark took you, you awoke. Yet your body lay heavy and aching, as if it had remained still for days. You tried to speak, but even the small muscles of your throat refused. Above you stretched an intricately woven roof of living fibres and vine. You turned your stiff neck as far as it would go, and the memory flashed sharp and sudden: Aha'ri, standing between the trees after five long years. The surprise of it collided with a second, slower thought. Where were you? The walls and ceiling were natural, grown rather than built. The RDA rarely worked with living materials. Everything they made was metal with clean, cutting edges. A comforting aroma of crushed leaves, mint and herbs filled your nose. The silence around you was deep yet gentle, broken only by the distant low pulse of something vast and alive. You rested on thick padding that yielded like moss and cloth together.
When you could finally turn your head slowly to the right, you observed another Na'vi figure. Moving gently like a cradling breeze, decorated in colourful cloths and feathers. Her skin carried the deep blue of the forest people, your kind, and was marked with pale ceremonial patterns that caught the soft light. Her jet-black hair was drawn back from a face lined with authority. Her eyes, golden and steady, studied you without hurry. When she spoke, the first words came in fluid Na'vi, low and melodic. Then her gaze dropped to the torn, grey remnants of your TAP clothing and she switched to careful English.
"You are safe here, child. The wound is healing. Eat."
She held out a carved bowl of soft root paste and fruit. The moment the scent reached you, hunger overrode everything else. You took the bowl with both hands and finished it in quick, ungraceful mouthfuls. A quiet laugh left the woman. The sound was warm, almost private. She watched you with an expression that seemed to look past the present moment, as though she already saw some thread of your path woven into the clan's future. Footsteps approached. Two, what you deciphered as warriors based on your enemy identification training, approached, spears still in hand, their expressions tight with caution. The woman raised one hand and spoke a few firm words in Na'vi. They hesitated, then withdrew. She turned back to you. "Eat more. Drink. Your body needs both."
Your voice came out rough and uncertain. "Where is my sister?" She only shook her head once, gently, and rested a cool hand against your brow. The same deep quiet that had held the chamber earlier settled over you again, heavier this time, and sleep returned.
When you woke once more, it was night. Voices rose from a wide-open space far below, clear enough to follow. You eased yourself to the edge of the upper level and looked down through the woven openings. The great central chamber glowed with scattered soft lights. A tall figure stood among a gathered circle of others. Even from above you recognised him. Jake Sully. In every TAP lesson about the Great Pandora War, he had been named the traitor who turned against his own kind, the human who led the assault that drove the RDA from the moon. Here he spoke with the steady weight of someone the others listened to. They discussed a lone Na'vi found injured near the outer paths, clothing that still carried the nauseating scent of the Sky People and an arm wound treated with their own medicines. One of the warriors who had carried you answered with short, factual words. You remained still in the shadows, listening, the heavy quiet of the great wooden structure pressing around you like a held breath.
Among the circle stood a younger warrior slightly apart from the elders, but standing close to Jake Sully, the leader of this clan. He rose taller than most, the soft biolights sliding across the smooth blue of his shoulders and the strong line of his collarbone. Dark hair fell in careful braids past his shoulders, small beads of bone clicked faintly when he shifted his weight. His face held clean, sharp lines, high cheekbones, a set jaw and eyes the colour of late sunlight through leaves. He looked only a little younger than the men around him, yet every muscle stood stiff and ready, prepared for action at any breath.
As the voices below continued, he lifted his gaze once, almost idly, toward the upper tiers. For a brief moment, those golden eyes found the deeper shadow where you remained hidden. You were startled, a small jolt under the ribs, yet the sight of another face so clearly young among all the older ones held you still. Intrigued, you wondered who he was and what right he had to be there. The look that settled on his face was stern and completely unreadable. He did not speak. He simply held the contact a second longer than you expected, the beads in his braids catching the little light casted form the upper tiers. Then, he returned his attention to the council as if nothing had drawn it away, as if you hadn't locked eyes just now.
After several more days, the old woman judged you strong enough to leave the healing chamber. She led you down the spiralling pathways of the great woven structure until the wide central space opened beneath you. The air felt heavier than before, thick with the scent of woodsmoke and the low tension of Na'vi deep in debate. A circle stood waiting. Jake Sully was at its centre, recognisable at once from Mercer's propaganda. A sharp-eyed woman stayed close to his side. Elders and warriors filled the rest of the places, their expressions closed. Slightly apart, in the same position you had seen from above, stood the young warrior. When your eyes briefly met, the sternness was still there, only closer now. The old woman brought you into the open and stepped back and almost at once the objections began.
"She should not remain," one elder spat, dressed in a regal gown and war paint. "The Sky People do not misplace their weapons. If she is one of theirs, they will come looking."
"It could be a trick," another added, voice tight. "Feigning weakness to bring them straight to us. We have lost too many already."
A third warrior gestured toward your torn grey clothes. "Even the fabric screams their name. Why risk the children for a stranger who arrived half-dead and still smelling of their metal?"
Jake let the words settle before he answered. "I have spoken with the scouts who carried her. The wound was deep and dirty. The fever was not real. She was running from the RDA, not toward us."
"That is what she wants us to believe," the first elder scoffed. "You of all people know how well they lie."
"I do," Jake said, quieter. "I also know what it is to stand where she is standing. I will not send her back into the forest to die or be recaptured. But she will not stay for free."
He looked directly at you. "You will learn to fight as we fight. You will learn the forest the way we know it. And you will give us everything you know about their current weapons, their routines, their weak points. Your knowledge is current. That is the condition."
Murmurs rose again, less sharp than before but still unwilling. Jake waited them out, then turned his head toward the younger warrior.
"My son will teach her." The young man's head lifted a fraction, surprise flickering across his face before it hardened into clear annoyance. His jaw set. The beads in his braids shifted once as he drew a slow breath through his nose. Still, he did not speak. He simply held himself rigid, the refusal visible in every line of his body even as he gave the single, short nod that duty required.
Jake's voice closed the matter. "Begin tomorrow."
The circle began to break apart. You remained where you stood, the old woman's hand light at your elbow, the certainty settling in that survival here would demand more than simply staying alive.
That same day they gave you a small hut on one of the lower outer platforms. It was little more than a woven shelter of living branches and broad leaves, a small opening on one side to the green air of the forest. Inside hung a touch-sensitive, webbed hammock but not much else. The old woman left you with new clothes: a leather mahogany loincloth of flexible hide, a band of woven fibre that covered your chest, attire that was much different, and more skin-revealing than what you were used to. The fabric felt strange against skin that had known only the soft grey cotton of TAP uniforms. You stood for a long time after she left, fingers resting on the unfamiliar material, trying to decide whether you looked like one of them or like a poor copy. You sat on the edge of the hammock and let the quiet settle. Unbidden, the last images of the others returned. You had seen them die, yet some small, stubborn part of you still wondered if any of them had somehow crawled clear. The thought sat heavy. Here, in this place of open air and living wood, you felt the absence of them more sharply than you had while running. You belonged to no one now. The clan below already watched you with closed faces. You heard the arguments. You were the risk they had not wanted.
Early the next morning, a firm knock sounded against the outer frame of your hut. You stumbled awake and stepped into the open. The young warrior stood there, exactly as he had in the circle, shoulders taut, expression impenetrable. Up close his details sharpened and you could make out the clean strength in his arms and the careful order of his braids, a contrast to the puffiness of your face from interrupted sleep and the slight tangle you hadn't had the time or strength to clean up in your waves. He briefly looked you up and down, from the new hide at your hips to the healing line on your arm and the still-unfamiliar way the woven band sat across your chest. You could not tell whether the look was assessment or disapproval. He gave a short tilt of his head.
"Come.", her ordered flatly.
You followed without speaking. He set a brisk pace along the hanging walkways and down a sloping root path that led away from the main structure. The forest closed around you both, thick with the scent of damp earth and flowering vines. After a stretch of silence, he spoke again, still without looking at you. "You will train with the hunters at the hunting grounds. I will show you this place once. After today you will find it yourself. Remember the way." You nodded, eyes on the path. Inside, the quiet irritation in his tone registered clearly. He moved with the easy certainty of someone who had never doubted his place here. Every step looked responsible, controlled, as if the forest itself answered to him. His arrogance sat just beneath the surface, but it was the kind that could prove itself true, one that was earned.
"Keep up," he said once, when your steps lagged on an uneven root. The instruction was short, almost curt. You lengthened your stride at once. Making trouble would serve nothing. The training ground opened suddenly, a wide, packed clearing ringed by high roots and hanging moss. Wooden targets stood at varying distances, some marked with old arrow marks. Racks of spears and bows leaned against the living walls. A few younger Na'vi were already there, their conversations fading as they noticed you. The air smelled of wood, resin, and the faint metallic note of sharpened points. He stopped at the edge of the clearing and finally turned to face you fully, the same cold, immovable look settling over his features.
"Start here. Do not waste my time." You met his eyes and gave another small nod, the only answer you trusted yourself to offer. The space between you felt tight, charged with everything neither of you had chosen.
He moved to a low rack near the edge of the clearing and lifted a bow of flexible, dark wood. Without ceremony, he tossed it toward you. You caught it against your chest, the string still humming faintly from the motion. A small bundle of arrows followed, landing at your feet.
"The clan hunts with these," he said. "You will learn to do the same." He slung his own bow across his shoulder in one smooth motion and started toward the far side of the clearing. Soft laughter and low voices drifted from the small group of younger hunters watching. You felt the weight of their attention like a second skin. You followed, the unfamiliar bow awkward in your grip. His stride was long and sure. After a dozen steps, you spoke clearly, "Can you slow down?"
He did not turn. Did not answer. The path narrowed between high roots and hanging vines. You tried again, a fraction louder.
"I said-" He stopped so abruptly you nearly walked into his back. When he turned the look on his face had turned impatient, his feet stepping closer than necessary. His eyes locked on yours, golden and unblinking.
"You are too slow. You need to keep your pace," he said, each word measured, "or you will not survive here." The sentence landed with the same cold practicality Mercer had once used in the classrooms. For a moment the two voices overlapped in your mind. Something in your chest tightened, then hardened. You met his stare without dropping it.
" I know what I'm doing. I've been through worse." The words came out somewhat defensive, but still flat and final. You stepped past him, shouldering by without touching, and continued along the path, satisfied that the conversation had ended on your terms. There was silence but when you glanced back his expression remained mostly closed, something unreadable sat in the set of his mouth. Possible surprise, possible interest in the fact that the RDA stranger had teeth. The tension stretched thin and sharp. He caught up without comment and took the lead again. The forest opened into a lower, broader space where the undergrowth thinned. In the middle distance, a small group of large, six-limbed herd animals grazed, their hides patterned in mottled greens and browns, heads low among the ferns. Perfect targets for practice. You were still walking with the leftover heat of the exchange when the open ground appeared too suddenly. One more step would have carried you into clear view of the animals. A strong hand closed around your upper arm, the one where your healing wound rested, and pulled you back behind a screen of broad leaves and hanging moss. Pain flared white-hot. You hissed through your teeth and jerked. He released you at once, still not saying a word but an inaudible apology shifting through unsharpened eyes.
He took your other arm instead, guiding you firmly but carefully into position so that you stood in front of him, the foliage still hiding both of you from the herd. His body formed a solid wall at your back. You could feel the heat of him, the controlled rise and fall of his breathing, the faint scent of forest resin and clean skin. He reached around without asking, settled the bow into your hands, and adjusted your grip with brisk, impersonal fingers.
"Feet here. Elbow high. Sight along the arrow. The heart sits behind the front shoulder." His voice remained cool, instructional, stripped of anything softer. Yet his closeness to your warm, injured skin made the air around you feel narrower. You drew the string as he directed. The arrow flew, missed the nearest animal by a clear handspan, and buried itself into the dirt. The creature raised its head, ears flicking, but did not flee. A quiet sound left the young warrior, something between a breath and a humourless note.
"Again," he commanded. "And this time actually aim for the Sturmbeest." 'Obviously, smart-ass.' You thought to yourself. The session stretched on until the light through the forest canopy faded. He moved you from one patch of cover to the next, following the same sequence: settle the feet, raise the bow, draw, sight, release. Each time the arrow flew wide or struck too low or buried itself harmlessly into the ground. His expression never shifted far from cool dissatisfaction.
"Again."
You collected the arrows in silence and returned to the starting place. The muscles in your shoulders burned. The healing arm protested every full draw. Still you kept at it. Once, after a particularly poor shot that startled the nearest animal into a short trot, he let out a quiet, cutting breath. "You handle the bow like it is a stick you found on the ground." The words landed, but you only nocked another arrow and lifted the bow once more. He watched for a moment longer, then stepped into the open himself. In a single fluid motion, he drew, held, and released. The arrow crossed the clearing in a clean arc and struck exactly behind the front shoulder of a grazing beast. The animal dropped without a sound. He retrieved the arrow with the same effortlessness, his perfect shot requiring no comment. A few times more he came up behind you. His chest brushed your back. One hand adjusted the angle of your elbow, the other guided your fingers on the string. The heat of him soaked through the thin strip of leather hanging at your lower spine. You could feel every controlled breath he took, the solid strength in the arms that framed yours. Each correction was precise and impersonal.
When he finally called an end the light had already begun to thin. He started back towards the main site and you followed in silence, body heavy, arms trembling from the repeated draws. As the path climbed and the impossibly large 'HomeTree' structure came into view, the shifting light caught a pale, ridged scar high on his back, just where the muscle met the shoulder blade. The mark of a bullet that had torn through and healed imperfectly. You stared at it while you walked, wondering how someone who still looked so young could already carry a wound so deep. He never looked back. When the outer platforms of the village appeared he simply stopped, gave you one last unreadable glance, and spoke, "I am not your babysitter. You know the path now. Use it. Meet me at the same time tomorrow." He turned back, letting you find the rest of the way back alone.
The borrowed bow felt heavier than it should have. Somewhere above, the soft lights of the HomeTree glowed. You stood for a moment longer on the path, the forest quiet around you, and felt the full weight of everything Aha'ri had promised settling into the space where belonging still refused to take root.
Chapter Two
Your first few days with the 'Omatikaya' clan, as the old lady who first greeted you, the 'Tsahik' taught you, blurred into a rhythm of ache and quiet resolve. Although the young warrior had told you to remember your own way to the hunting grounds, you'd often wait, hiding in your hut until he passed by, tethered behind him before arriving for your basic skills session. He never greeted you and moved at a pace that left your lungs burning before the sun had fully cleared the canopy. The forest paths became familiar only through repetition - the same root that caught your ankle, the low branch that always scraped your shoulder, the same packed clearing where he made you lift the bow until your arms shook and the string bit into your fingers. He rarely spoke beyond short commands. Draw. Hold. Release. Again. When the light faded he still said again. You returned each evening with new scrapes across your knees and elbows, thin lines of blood already drying, and a body so heavy that the hammock felt like the only solid thing left in the world.
The wound on your arm closed cleanly under the Tsahik's careful attention. The skin knitted smooth and tight, leaving only a pale ridge that no longer pulled when you drew the string. The food settled well with your body as well. Bowls of warm vegetable soup, bright alien fruit that burst sweet against your tongue, strips of roasted meat still fragrant with forest herbs. After years of grey TAP rations, the flavours felt almost shocking. You ate every portion as if it might be taken away, and for those few minutes the constant low hum of not belonging quietened. It never quietened for long. The Na'vi your age watched you with open curiosity that quickly turned to amusement. Soft laughter followed when you went off path or missed an arrow shot. Whispers drifted across the platforms at night, too low to catch every word but clear enough in tone. Sky-people clothes. Sky-people smell. The one the leader's son is forced to drag through the forest. Aha'ri had spoken of belonging as something already written in the blood. Here the blood seemed to count for very little.
Still, you rose each morning determined to prove the whispers wrong, and to prove him wrong most of all. The coldness in his eyes had become a challenge you refused to lose. One day Jake Sully brought you to a region further out from the main living areas, where several humans worked among the Na'vi. One of them, a lean man with fascinated eyes and a ready smile, introduced himself as Norm Spellman. They were scientists who chose to remain after the war. They spoke of old RDA systems, signal patterns and encrypted channels that still flickered on the edges of their instruments. You listened, before quietly correcting a frequency range they had marked as obsolete. You sketched the newer lockout protocols Mercer had drilled into every TAP cohort. You showed them which handheld tools could still force a maintenance hatch and which ones would trigger an immediate alert. Norm's expression shifted to sharp attention, occasionally exchanging looks with Jake, as if he was impressed by what you had to offer. The others leaned closer. For the first time since arriving, you felt useful in a way that did not require perfect aim or perfect silence.
The young warrior stood at the edge of the base the entire time, arms folded, watching. He said nothing. When the discussion ended he simply turned and walked ahead of you down the path, never beside, always a few strides beyond reach. Yet you caught him glancing back once, the usual sternness tempered by something quieter, the knowledge you carried pointing him to your true utility to the clan, whether he wanted it to or not.
The next morning you did not meet him at the training clearing. The path climbed instead, steeper, the air thinning as the great woven structure fell away below. You emerged onto a high ledge of living stone and root, open to the sky. Mountain banshees, known as 'Ikran', wheeled in slow arcs overhead, their wings catching the light in flashes of blue and violet and deep green. The landing was a broad, wind-scoured platform marked by old claw scars and the sharp scent of ozone and feathers. He stopped at the edge and turned. For once he did not immediately look impatient.
"You will choose one," he said. "Or it will choose you. The bond is tsaheylu. Kuru to kuru. Until that moment it will try to kill you. That is how you know it is yours.", he held up the tendrils at the end of his braid, offering a rare moment of clarity.
Your face must have shown exactly the horror you felt, as he laughed. The sound was short and genuine, and for the first time you saw him bare his teeth in something other than a flat line. The sternness eased, his honey eyes lit with brief, reluctant amusement. The change made him look almost approachable, before his usual control slid back into place. You found your voice. "How old were you? When you bonded the first time."
"Six." He said it simply, as if the number required no further explanation. He offered nothing more. The Ikran descended in a rush of wings and snapping jaws. You stood where he told you, heart slamming against your ribs, whilst the great creatures landed and folded their wings with restless, predatory grace. One of them fixed on you at once: a lean female with dark blue markings that ran like rivers down her neck and a deep anchor at her chest that flared when she hissed. She came at you fast. Claws scraped stone. Teeth snapped close enough that you felt the hot rush of her breath. You stumbled back, caught yourself, and moved the way the training had taught you to move when something larger and angrier wanted you dead. She circled. You circled. The ledge felt suddenly small. When the opening came you did not think. You lunged, caught the side of her neck, and dragged your own kuru free. The moment the neural tendrils met, the world cracked open.
Sensation flooded in, the sharp clarity of her vision, the wind already mapped across every membrane of her wings, the deep, instinctive hunger for open sky. Your own body felt distant for a heartbeat, then violently present again as her strength poured through the link. Muscles you did not know you had answered. Balance shifted. The fear did not vanish, it simply became something you could ride. She snapped at the air once more, then stilled, sides heaving, the bond settling into a fierce, thrumming awareness that was neither fully you nor fully her. You stayed on your knees longer than you meant to, one hand still buried in the warm, leather feeling of her neck, lungs dragging in air that tasted of high ancestral winds. When you looked up, the young warrior's face had shifted by the smallest degree. The usual stern line of his mouth had eased. Something like quiet satisfaction sat in the set of his shoulders, gone almost before you could be certain it was there. Around the ledge, the watching Na'vi had fallen quieter. The soft laughter had stopped. Their stares now carried a thin edge of respect.
The moment did not last.
"Up," he called, voice suddenly sharp. "You must take flight. Now." The words jolted you. The pride contracted into fresh shock. Before you could answer he was already moving. In one smooth motion, the warrior swung up behind you onto the same Ikran, the great creature shifting under the added weight but holding steady through the bond. His chest pressed solid against your back. Both of his hands came down over yours on the natural ridges of her neck, gripping tight, skin warm and tough against your own. "Lean with her," he said close to your ear. "Do not fight the turn."
Then the ledge fell away.
The first drop stole the air from your lungs. Wind roared past your ears. The ground became a distant green blur and the sky opened in every direction at once. Terror and exhilaration crashed together so you could not separate them. Your stomach lurched, fingers locked under his. He made a low grunt as he corrected your angle with a firm pressure of his hands, guiding the ikran into a wide, climbing arc. The bond flooded you with her fierce joy in the height. For a heartbeat you forgot to be afraid. A sound tore out of you, half-scream, half-laugh, raw and bright with the sudden freedom of open air. You had never moved like this. Never felt the world drop so far beneath your feet while your body remained perfectly held by wings and wind and the solid presence at your back. You leaned forward on the Ikran's back as the young warrior pressed close behind, his chest solid against your back, one of his legs braced along the outside of yours so that the hard line of his thigh rubbed the back of your own with every shift of the great wings. His arms reached around you, toned and warm, the muscles flexing against the sides of your chest as he let you survey Pandora's landscape. The gale was strong enough that when he needed to glance forward to check your grip, he had no choice but to lean in, cheek brushing the side of your head and the sensitive skin of your neck, breath warm against your ear for the brief moments the brush lasted. You did not see the wide, startled smile that crossed his face, nor the quiet laugh that escaped him before he mastered it again. You only felt the shift of his chest and the continued steady guidance of his hands. You began to copy the rising whoops you had heard other riders make, the sound breaking into more laughter as the Ikran banked hard and the forest heights wheeled below. He did not tell you to stop. The tension that usually sat between your bodies loosened by a fraction, the flight demanded cooperation, and for these few minutes he gave it without the usual cold distance.
You circled back toward the landing in a long, descending spiral. More figures had gathered on the stone platform. One of them stepped forward the moment the Ikran's claws touched down. A younger male, leaner, with an easy stance and a face that carried clear human traces. Five fingers on each hand. Distinct eyebrows. Features sharper and more finely cut than the pure Na'vi around him.
"Neteyam!" He called, grinning wide. The name landed in your mind like a stone dropped into still water. Neteyam. You repeated it once, silently, while the two of them reached out and clasped forearms in a quick, familiar motion, shoulders bumping. The stern young warrior who had spent a week making you repeat the same movements until dark was suddenly smiling, openly, carelessly, at the other boy. The carefree expression sat strangely on a face you had only ever seen closed. The newcomer turned to you next, still smiling. "So you're the one who's been keeping my brother busy. Not bad for a first flight."
The warmth in his voice was immediate and unforced. You felt some of the usual caution in your posture ease. You looked down humbly, surprised by the sudden compliment and his friendliness, earning a soft laugh from him. "You know..you're the first Na'vi he's ever had to train. You should've seen the stupid grin he had on his face out there.", he added.
Neteyam shot his brother a look that was half warning, half reluctant amusement. "Lo'ak, skawxng!"
Lo'ak's eyes flicked between the two of you, clearly enjoying the contrast before playfully shoving his brother aside. Neteyam's expression shifted again, but the residual ease of the flight and the easy presence of his brother kept a trace of lightness around his mouth as he muttered something too low for you to catch. Lo'ak only grinned wider and gave you another nod of open congratulations before the gathered riders began to drift closer, voices rising with questions and commentary about the outsider and her new Ikran.
After the landing, Lo'ak's easy warmth settled into something steady. You spent more time with him over the next few weeks, his footprint quickly falling into step beside you on the lower platforms, tossing casual challenges, laughing when you answered his pathetic questions with clever quips. He was boyish in the best and most irritating ways, confident to the point of arrogance, quick to flash that sharp, pretty-boy grin. Yet the arrogance never turned on you. Where Neteyam's distance felt like judgement, Lo'ak's felt like comfort. You found yourself watching the way light caught the angles of his face, enjoying the banter more than you expected. Finally, one person in the clan who did not merely tolerate your presence but seemed to prefer it. The rest of the village took longer. Whispers and side-eye glances followed you through the first weeks. You felt the gap keenly, the sense that whatever blood you shared, the softer arts of being a Na'vi woman still sat beyond your reach. In those moments, Lo'ak's uncomplicated friendship became a quiet refuge.
Everywhere else you refused to stay small. On the training grounds and in the weekly hunts you matched the warriors stride for stride, then began to outpace them. Arrows flew truer. Footing grew surer. Tactical suggestions offered to Norm and the scientists - updated RDA protocols, weak points in newer patrol patterns - earned sharp nods and quick implementation. Respect arrived in uneven pieces, but it came nonetheless. Neteyam remained the same. He was still harsh, critical, still walking ahead rather than beside you, yet the silence between commands had begun to fill with teasing and fighting words.
"Lucky shot.", he called after witnessing another one of your successful Sternbeest shots.
"Lucky is what you call it when you can't do better," you returned, not quite smiling. It was loud enough that the others in the group glanced over, smirks pulling at their faces.
Neteyam scoffed and drew up his bow and arrow again. You moved closer, shoving his shoulder as you passed by, not hard, but deliberate. He barely moved, yet the brief contact sparked something bright and competitive in his eyes. He shoved back, controlled and exact, just enough to make you take a step, but clearly holding back from the force you pushed into him. The satisfaction that flickered across his face was gone in an instant, but you had seen it. Riling you had become a quiet sport he was winning more often than not.
Strategy sessions with Norm and the scientists turned into regular battlegrounds. You laid out updated RDA patrol timings, Neteyam cutting across your words without hesitation. "That window closed six months ago. They changed the rotation."
"Then the new rotation still leaves the eastern sensor net exposed between the second and third sweep," you answered, a piercing look in your eye. "Unless you have fresher numbers than the ones I lived under."
Jake's voice would eventually cut through the rising heat. "Enough. Both of you." The two of you stepped back with matching frustrated jaws, yet later, when the maps were cleared, you sometimes caught Neteyam watching you with an expression that was no longer purely critical. The clashes had begun to carry an undercurrent of shared enjoyment, each of you measuring how much further the other could be pushed. One evening after a long session of drills, he found you still on the training ground, repeating a footwork sequence you had not yet perfected.
"You're going to wear a hole in the earth," he remarked.
"Focus on your own holes, creep."
He smiled, internally asking himself where you came up with such strange comebacks. "Only if you stop your chicken-dancing on my trading grounds." You turned, ready with another retort, but found him already walking away, still ahead of you, always maintaining an air of distance.
The ranks were shifting and the competition had narrowed to a single point: him. And every time Neteyam's eyes met yours across a clearing or a council circle, the old, cold distance carried a new, unspoken current neither of you had yet named. Beating the other warriors no longer mattered as much as overriding Neteyam in every possible way. When the chance came for a private hunt, just the two of you, no audience, you both took it without discussion. The one who returned with the greater share would hold the quiet victory until the next challenge.
You moved deeper into the forest than the usual routes allowed, the playful edge of rivalry sharpening with every successful stalk. He would signal a perch in the high roots. You would claim a better angle moments later. A low sound of shared, competitive breath passed between you when a large Hexapede drifted close. The trees grew denser. The familiar markers of the safety zone fell away behind you without either of you fully acknowledging the moment they disappeared. The first Viperwolf announced itself with a sound like wet stone grinding against bone. You turned too late. The creature exploded from the undergrowth, six limbs, lean and corded, jaws split wide to show off its serrated teeth, eyes reflecting the low light in flat, hungry discs. Its breath hit your face in a hot wave. Instinct drove you backwards, claws raked the air where your throat had been. A second shape flickered at the edge of vision, then a third. It was a pack.
Fear arrived complete and physical. Your pulse became a single continuous roar. Every drill, every careful lesson dissolved into the raw knowledge that these animals were built to end whatever they caught. You loosed an arrow that struck the lead wolf high in the shoulder; it barely slowed. Neteyam was already moving. His first shot took the second animal through the neck. The third closed on your flank. You dropped, rolled, felt the snap of teeth pass close enough to tug a strand of your hair. Neteyam reached you in three strides, shoulder slamming into the creature's side and driving it off balance long enough for you to drive a blade upward. Hot blood sprayed across your arm. The remaining wolves circled, low and coordinated, waiting for the next opening. You fought back to back for what felt like an eternity, the forest reduced to snapping jaws and the wet sound of impact. Just as the largest survivor gathered itself for another rush, a shadow cut across the sky. Jake's Leonopteryx dropped through the leaves in a violent rush of wings. Strong hands seized both of you, hauling upward as claws closed on empty air. You locked your arms around Neteyam's waist, his own grip fastened firmly around his father's forearm. The ground fell away in a sickening swing.
They landed hard on a nearby cliff ledge of pale stone. Jake dismounted in one motion, expression carved from something colder than anger. The wind at this height was sharp and clean, carrying none of the blood-scent from below.
"You both know the boundary," he lectured, voice low but booming. "You know why it exists. What were you doing that far out?" You opened your mouth, an explanation and apology already forming, but Neteyam suddenly stepped in front of you before the first word left your tongue.
"It is my fault, sir. I take full responsibility."
Everything about the exchange felt familiar in the worst way. You had seen the same desolate obedience inside TAP, the same careful blankness when a superior's disappointment landed. Jake's gaze stayed on his son for a long moment. Whatever passed between them did not need volume to cut deep.
"You're not a kid anymore," Jake said, each word measured. "You do not get to be reckless and call it leadership. Take her back. On foot. I will speak with you later." He mounted without another glance and the Shadow carried him away in a hard beat of wings. Silence settled over the ledge, broken only by the wind and the distant calls of the forest far below. Neteyam started down the path at once, walking ahead as always. His shoulders were rigid, his pace tight with thoughts he did not share. After a stretch of quiet, you found your voice.
"Thank you." A pause. "But why did you speak for me?"
He did not slow. "Do not read into it."
The coldness in the answer snapped something loose - of course he was still mean, misunderstood Neteyam. You closed the distance, caught his shoulder, and pulled him around with more force than you had used in any of your previous shoves. His eyes met yours, "Why do you hate me so much?", you finally asked.
The question hung between you, raw and direct. For a moment he looked as if he might refuse to answer. Then the words came, loud and clear, stripped of every earlier taunt. "The Sky People destroyed more than you understand. They massacred my friends. My people. My family!", his voice was nearing a yell, but he pulled back. "They left scars that cannot heal." His hand moved once, almost unconsciously, toward the old bullet mark high on his chest. "I nearly joined them. So forgive me if I do not trust what comes from the RDA. You still carry their shape, their smell. Even when you try not to.", his voice faltered. He gave you one last look, mouth scrunched, as if he had more to say. But he looked away, turning around and continuing down the path without waiting.
You stepped back. Anger still burned under your ribs, but something heavier settled beside it: understanding, unwanted and incomplete. "Ugh!", you grunted loudly, expressing your frustration fully with your body. It was half because he'd blamed you for something you had no part, or choice, in. But also partly because he was right. The walls he kept began to look like survival. You remained on the ledge a moment longer, the wind crystallising your thoughts, the weight of Neteyam's words rearranging each interaction that had come before, still guarded, but, at last, explained.
After the evening meal, you sat in the low light of your hut, the day's words turning over and over. Annoyance rose first: sharp, familiar, the memory of every cold dismissal, every time he had looked at you as if you were something that had tracked dirt onto clean ground even after you had matched him shot for shot, stride for stride. Then the anger thinned, accepting that the losses he named were not abstract. The clan's scars were older and deeper than your arrival. You understood the instinct to protect what remained. Understanding did not erase the sting of being treated as the threat. In the privacy of the small space, you let the unspoken answers spill out under your breath, replaying the cliff-edge exchange with the freedom of no audience.
"I'm sorry your people suffered-"
No.
It wasn't your fault.
Maybe, "You do not get to punish me for the triggers I never pulled!"
The words felt good in the quiet. Cathartic. You shaped sharper versions, colder ones, the kind of perfect responses that only arrived hours too late. By the time the bioluminescent lights outside had dimmed to their brightest glow you had decided: tomorrow, early, you would find Neteyam alone and say the necessary parts out loud. His pain was clear and justified. Your right not to be treated as disposable was equally clear. You rose before the first real light. The village still slept. Neteyam, you knew, would already be moving. He was always moving. The perfect soldier the RDA had once tried to manufacture in TAP classrooms, only refined by true loyalty instead of fear. A dream of discipline given blue skin and quiet authority. You followed the faint path that led toward the communal bathing showers fed by a low waterfall near the river. Steam rose in the cool air. The sound of soft disturbances in the waterfall stream suggested he was already there. You did not want to wait for the later crowds. You only meant to confirm it was him before calling out.
You stepped closer and peered inside from a high, hidden perch.
He stood under the fall with his back partly turned, water slithering down the long lines of muscle across his shoulders and the sharp cut of his waist. The scar you had noticed weeks ago sat high on his chest, deep against the forest blue of his skin, a raised ridge that caught the early light. Water traced the defined planes of his abdomen, the powerful length of his thighs, the natural strength of him. He moved with the same controlled but fluid way he brought to everything else, scooping water over his braids, running both hands down his arms, entirely unaware of any audience. For a long moment you could not look away. The sight settled low in your body, unexpected and insistent, a heat that had nothing to do with the steam.
Just as you were about to look away, the feeling of the stone and moss resting beneath your feet grounding you back to reality, you were pulled in by Neteyam's next, unexpected movements. His strong, capable hands drifted down to his bare penis, wrapping his three fingers and thumb around its length. You'd never seen one before. In the cabins at TAP, of course you and the other recruits would gossip about naked bodies, but it was never a topic discussed for long. His was longer than it was thick, perfectly erect when in his large hands but swaying slightly to the left when left on its own. The tip glowed a beautiful indigo-violet and it was where Neteyam focused the end of his strokes before returning to the base again, letting his fingers graze his plump, healthy testicles as he slid his hand back up his shaft. He started at a moderate pace, head down and the stroking movement repetitive. Within just a few minutes his glute and thigh muscles began to clench, his broad back brushing the stone back of the shower. Faster and deeper his strokes became, the faint sound of skin slapping as he concentrated on staying upright.
Unknowingly, your hand grazed your soft mouth, watching in awe as a thick current of blood overwhelmed your cheeks. His hand, usually so steady and precise, moved with a deliberate, searching rhythm. Water cascaded with a steady pattern, white noise that did little to muffle the low, guttural sounds that began to emanate from his slightly agape, sapphire lips. You watched, a knot of unexpected sensation tightening in your stomach and flurrying down your hips. His fingers, thin yet strong, traced the contours of his own flesh, his movements growing more urgent with each passing second. A quiet, grunt, deep from his stomach, punctuated the drumming water. Another followed, so unlike his usual controlled demeanour that it thrilled your senses even more. His silhouette was a study in raw tension and desire. Neteyam threw his head back slightly, eyes gently shut, lost in imagination and his geometric features contorted in a private agony. A dark, almost primal intensity settled over him. The air grew thick not just with humidity, but with a palpable sense of release, a tide that was mercilessly pulling him under. A purple flush crept up his neck, visible even through the water, and his jaw tightened, a muscle ticking furiously before he let out a desperate, almost pained moan, followed by several more guttural grunts. This release was accompanied by a faucet flow of thick white liquid from the glowing head of his penis, cascading down harmoniously with the moving water that caressed his skin. He stood, head down, completely undone, but as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, for a few moments the burdens of his future as Olo'eyktan were out of his mind.
You startled yourself, pulse quick, and stepped back into the thicker cover of the leaves. The scene had sparked a flicker of something akin to arousal, but it was quickly overshadowed by the potent intrigue of witnessing this hidden part of his being. It was a powerful, unguarded moment, and the knowledge of it settled in your mind. A secret you would carry, that belonged only to the quiet of this morning. A secret you'd hold over his head to finally stop his tyranny over your stay in the Omatikaya clan. You turned and made your way back through the still-sleeping platforms, steps light, expression carefully blank, as if you had never left your hammock at all.
pairing: aged up neteyam sully x fem omatikaya reader
notes: mention of blood, heavy guilt and blame again, but a lot of fluff as well finally.
s: neteyam wants to be there for you and with Ro’kani go, he does everything to give you and comfort and the reassurance you need. the line of friends and colleagues blurring.
w.c: 6.6k
a/n: somehow someway i have like 6 neteyam oneshots in the works and two for lo'ak and one request pending. i dont know how i got here but i love it ngl 🤭🤭. But anywhoo this took longer than i though sorry about that AND there will be two more parts of this series it’s already coming to an endddd. but i hope you all enjoy. 🫡
pt.3 pt.4 pt.5
Your mother drew her trembling hand back to Ro’kani, holding him instead. While the other brushed over his braids. Whispering prayers, for Ro’kani, for you and her family. Your father stared at the beaded curtain, frown deep with confusion and pain. And Neteyam who hadn’t left the tent since they brought Ro’kani in. Who hadn’t looked away from you since before they arrived, stared at the soft sway of the beaded curtain. His hands were balled at his side into a fist, nails digging into his palms harshly. He wanted to go, wanted to comfort you.
To hug you, to stop you from going down a tunnel of pain and suffering. But he stood rooted to his spot, watching, thinking. Tail still, his ears were trained to Ro’kani, but his eyes remained on the path you walked.
“Neteyam.” Ro’kani breathed.
Only his name, and he didn’t have to speak anymore. It wasn’t a demand, nor a plea. But still, Neteyam understood.
He was a blur, whipping the beaded curtain out of his way, he left the healing circle. Sprinting down the root that led to the gathering place, he turned sharply running past the cooking station feeling the warmth of the fire briefly before it shifted to humid air of the forest. Standing there, the two cooks only saw a blur, and heard his quick steps. Though their gaze didn’t follow him out, but they knew where he was going.
Neteyam knew the path, because he had seen you walk it for years. Seen Ro’kani run down it with Lo’ak while he didn’t follow.
Though one night, he did.
Years ago.
While the clan gathered in the communal area for dinner, soft chatter and children quick steps filled air. Neteyam sat with Kiri and Tuk, his parents off speaking with the cooks and he and Kiri were trying to a bribe Tuk to get to her eat her roasted roots.
Then, two hands slapped against his shoulders, the sting lingered and the hands remained there, Neteyam didn’t jump, nor scold the one responsible because he knew who it was. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Ro’kani behind him and crouched beside him was Lo’ak.
“Bro, Y/n isn’t here.” Lo’ak said.
Neteyam remembered frowning first; looking to Ro’kani who had straightened, arms crossed over his chest. His ears twitched uncertain, keep his face neutral to hide the subtle raise of panic.
“She didn’t answer the call for dinner.” Ro’kani co-signed.
“Watch Tuk.” Neteyam instructed Kiri, giving Tuk an assuring head pat before leaving his spot to find you. The more they walked the more the panic Ro’kani felt settled in Neteyam. It was late, the sun had long set, and no clan members were out meaning you were completely alone. Those facts alone didn’t settle none of the worry in the boys hearts. Instinctively Neteyam hand went to his obsidian knife at his waist, fingers flexing around the grip.
Walking into the quite clearing Neteyam didn’t give himself the luxury of taking in the place you called your second home. Instead, his eyes locked on your slumped figure against a thick tree. You laid there, holding your bow close to your chest. Your breathing slow and steady, exhausted. Shoulders dropping his worry quickly disappeared, moving slowly beside Ro’kani he knelt in front of you while Lo’ak stood behind. Ro’kani shook your twice, wakening you from your sleep. You blinked slowly, eyes coming into focus with each one. Sleepily, you glance at all three of them, brain registering the time and probably the reason behind Ro’kani scolding stare. Though, there was no confusion nor gratefulness, just your familiar scowl.
“What did I tell you about coming here?”
Instantly Ro’kani and Lo’ak argued with you while Neteyam stood off silent but admiring the scene. It was one of Neteyam fondest memories of you. Seeing you relaxed even than was a feat, and now it was even rarer.
It only took one time walking the path, one time, to commit it to memory. And now as he ran down the path under the bioluminescent canopy of pandora. Branches nipping at his skin, and his chest raising and falling rapidly. Worry had an unforgiving grip on his heart again, heavier than the one felt years ago. Though another weight overshadowed it.
Pain.
It was an empathetic ache. He felt the agony you carried for something completely out of your control. He remembered the crack in your voice as you addressed Ro’kani wound, the full force of blame when his grandmother worked to save Ro’kani. He felt your guilt, unwarranted, but deep rooted.
He had seen it in that single step you took away from your mother comforting hand. Had felt it watching you walk away despite Ro’kani wishes, your eyes watery and ready to break. Neteyam heart hammered against his chest, and his hands trembled even though they were in tight fist. He pushed his legs to go faster despite the burn, because he had to get to you.
Finally, the familiar clearing came into view. Neteyam reached out, gripping a nearby tree, using it to slow his momentum. Gasping for air he saw you in the center of the clearing. Slumped over in the dirt hands cradle over your arms. Your braids flowing over your shoulders shielding yourself from the world.
Neteyam heard your sobs, quite but there. He saw how you tried to make yourself smaller, how your body trembled holding back yours sobs because even here you feared being heard. Neteyam clenched his fist tighter, nails wounding his palms, jaw tightening at the sight. He blinked rapidly to rid his eyes of the tears that formed, he couldn’t cry, not now. He took one step, quiet enough that it shouldn’t have been heard.
But you heard it and then, you spoke. Quiet, so quiet but Neteyam caught it in the silent of the forest.
Fragile and meek.
“Don’t.”
Neteyam froze, his ears pinning back against his messy braids, tousled by his run. He had never heard you like that. So broken and defeated. His frown deepened, but determined he still approached, careful and slow. Telling you he was coming, telling you he wasn’t walking away. Slowly, Neteyam knelt in the dirt in front of you. Hands practically aching to reach out and comfort for you, but he forced to remain beside him.
“Y/n.”
Just your name, his voice trembling slightly, almost a plea. To let him be there. To let him share your burden, and pain. But again, you refused, shaking your head. Pulling yourself inward, away from him and away from the world.
“Go away,” you choked out your voice stripped of the authoritative tone you always used. Eyes closed tight, you shook your head softly. “Leave me alone.”
Neteyam didn’t move, not an inch.
“No.” He whispered softly in one breathe. “I will not leave you alone. How can—,” He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat.
“How can I? When I know you are in pain?” He said brokenly and you remained slumped over hugging yourself.
Not speaking another word, Neteyam shifted closer, not crowding you but close enough you felt his familiar presence. Lowering his arms, he rested his wrist against his knees, extending his large hands to you. Palms up and open.
Surrendering himself to you. He was offering himself to you, his heart, his strength and his shoulders. He didn’t rush you, nor did he force it. He simply kept his hands open for you to take if you wished. And he silently hoped you would.
For a long quiet moment, the only sound was the distant natural hum of the forest and the shallow hitching of your breath. Slowly, you opened your eyes and stared at his hands. His large, callused hands, evidence of his years of training. Faint scars decorated his skin showing his devotion and labors. Showing his heart—his kind, gentle and reverent heart.
And he was offering it to you.
A small voice whispered that you didn’t deserve it. That his hands were clean, yet yours was stained with the crimson color of your failure and the soil of pandora. As much as that small voice gnawed at you, telling you cruelties you agreed with. Neteyam hands remained there, open and unmoving.
The absolute warmth and understanding radiating off him was a lifeline, and you couldn’t refuse.
Hiccuping softly, you leaned up, hands moving from your arms, you placed them directly into Neteyams. He didn’t close his fingers immediately, nor did he move too fast. He waited patiently until you held him, even then he waited a beat. And when you didn’t pull away, when he knew for certain that you want him there. His hands twitched slight before closing around yours, holding them wirh immense care.
Looking up you met his gaze. His golden eyes stared back, wide with concern and worry, with fear and care, keeping nothing from you. Baring his emotions, completely vulnerable for your eyes to see.
And he saw you. Your face drench in tears, eyes wide, broken, terrified and lost in a sea of guilt. He felt your hands trembling in his hold, felt the dried blood of your older brother rough against his calloused hands. Slowly, his thumbs gave gentle caress on your knuckles, worn by years of training. Your bottom lip trembled.
“Neteyam.”
You whispered his name. A broken and vulnerable, sound that tore through the quiet of the clearing, piercing straight through Neteyam’s heart. Fresh tears left your glossy eyes, trailing down the soft curve of your cheek.
Neteyam tilted his head; the strong front he aimed to put up for you shattered upon your broken cry. Seeing how deep rooted your pain was, his brow furrowed, and his lips downturned into a saddened frown. He didn’t see the silent huntress that the elders spoke of, that children sung praises of.
He saw the girl he grew up with, pushed to her absolute limit.
One of his hands tightly held yours, while the other slid up your arm slowly gripping your forearms. He gave a soft comforting squeeze.
“I know,” Neteyam whispered, voice low and cracking raw sincerity. Your tears continued to flow, a few hot drops falling onto your joined hands. “I know, I know.”
Moving slowly to not startle you, to assure you he wasn’t aiming to crowd you. Neteyam brought his arm up and around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. Your cheek pressed firmly against his shoulder, while his hand rubbed up and down your arm comforting you. His skin was warm, a sharp contrast to the cold sweat on your skin. The sheer radiating, steady warmth of him shattered the linger wall preventing you from breaking. But Neteyam, held you in a strong unyielding grip, giving you the permission to break, and the absolute certainty that he would be there through it all. Feeling that—feeling him, you allowed yourself to succumb to your pain.
And you broke down completely.
Fresh, violent sobs left your throat. Your entire body shaking wirh every cry that left you as you buried your face in Neteyam’s shoulder, wrapping your arms around his torso holding him tightly. Neteyam froze for only a breath before his arm tightened slightly around you, his other hand coming brushing your braids gently. The soothing drag of his fingers against your braids gave you an anchor to the world. Neteyam just held you, letting you cry, letting you break, giving you all the time you needed.
“It…it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” You choked out, against his shoulder. Hands gripping Neteyam torso fingers digging into his skin, as if you were scared, he would disappear if you let go.
“It was my decision.”
You mind played the moment you realized you could make the shot.
“My arrow.”
You remembered drawing your string back with practice ease and letting your arrow whistle through the air hitting that exposed tank. Seeing the flames, seeing the metal— seeing Ro’kani take a hit from the blast.
“If…if I had thought longer, planned it better. He…” you hiccuped unable to finish.
Neteyam squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head against yours briefly, before shaking his head at your words.
“No.” he said, voice low against your ear. He stopped brushing your braids for a moment, his palm firm against the back of your head, keeping you close to him. “Don’t do that to yourself. Look at me, Y/n.”
Reluctantly, you pulled your face from his shoulder though your hands stand wrapped around him. Unwilling of letting go or creating any distance. Your eyes were wide, shining with a new set of tears and your chest heaved with quick shallow breaths. Neteyam stared down at you, gaze raw and honest.
“You save his life.” He whispered. Bring his hand from your head he used his knuckle to gently brush away a tear from your cheek. “You can control an arrow. But you can’t control sky people metal. It’s unpredictable, chaotic. You made the most logical decision, in a life or death situation. And if you hadn’t, he would be resting with the great mother right now.”
You heard him. The logic was sound, you knew that, but it didn’t feel like it. The weight of blame still rests heavy on your heart, and in your hands. You could still feel the warmth of your brother's blood, remembering how it grew cold around your palms as you tried to fix what you had ruined. Neteyam watched as your eyes glazed over, drowning in thoughts he knew did nothing to save you.
“I know, what it’s like,” he murmured. Meeting his gold gaze you held his stare. His voice was laced with vulnerability, carrying the knowing weight of a decision that could cost others their lives. “To replay every single second of a mission, or simple scouting. To wonder where you went wrong, wonder why you didn’t think more before acting.” He stopped for a second, the same blame you felt filtered over in his golden eyes for you to see.
“To wonder why someone else had to bleed because of what you decided to do. It’s like a poison.”
Neteyam hand returned to the back of your hand resting there gently.
“Don’t let it break your spirit. You are so much more than one moment. A moment no one blames you for.”
You swallowed, your hiccups slowly dying down. Neteyam licked his lips before speaking again.
“Ro’kani lives. He will heal. The Tsahìk, my grandmother will see to it. And sooner than later, he will be walking this path ready to come and annoy you. To tease you until you react more than your twitching ears or tail.” Neteyam gave a faint smile, barely there but it was. You stared at him, listening, looking at him. Swallowing again, you hand came up to Neteyam’s forearm, where he held your head.
“Thank you, Neteyam.”
The blame you felt didn’t leave you, not completely but the fire of it wasn’t as intense. Your hand subconsciously tightened around his forearm.
He made it better.
Neteyam shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me,” he whispered, his eyes flicking down to your hand wrapped around his forearm. He was aware of your other hand too, that still grip his torso refusing to let go. Fighting to keep his mind from dwelling on being this close to you, his eyes lingered on the dirt on your hands and the leftover soot on your body from the mission.
Following his gaze, you mind went to the same realization. Eyes trailing to where your hands were placed on his body.
Here you were, practically in the lap of Toruk Makto eldest son, covered in soot, mud and blood. Looking like a broken mess. In reality, Neteyam didn’t look pristine and clean either, but your mind seemed to have blocked that out entirely. Feeling a growing sense of shame, you pulled your hand away from his forearm but the other remain on his torso.
“Sorry—”
“No,” Neteyam interrupted softly. He wasn’t offended nor disgusted by you holding him. Actually, it was taking him so much right now not to he overjoyed with how comfortable you were being this close to him.
“No, I don’t mind.”
His hands left you head, moving down to gently hold the hand resting in your lap. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He gave a small encouraging nod. “Then we go see Ro’kani, together.”
Your ears twitched at the mention of seeing your brother. “But, Jake should be looking for you. For a debrief.”
“My father will understand.”
Neteyam moved, rising from the ground, and your hands twitched, leaving his body and warmth. A sudden wave of panic washed over you, a cold fear that he was leaving you there alone. But before the panic could fully settle, his hand was stretched out once again for you to take.
He wasn’t leaving you but guiding you.
Placing your hand in his, you let him guide you away from your training grounds and down to a quiet stream nearby. Kneeling beside the cool stream, you stared at the water, and it stared back at you. The silence stretched, and Neteyam watched you, his hands twitching in his lap hesitantly for a beat before extending them toward you.
“May I?” he asked softly, waiting for your consent.
Without a word, you shifted to face him, resting your hands slowly into his larger ones. The silence of the forest hummed around you, thick but comforting. Neteyam dipped his hands into the clear, cool water, scooping it up and began to slowly wash the dark soot and dried crimson blood from your hands. Each time he gathered the water, he looked up wordlessly, asking for permission with his golden eyes, ensuring you were comfortable with every touch. And each time you nodded softly, and he would continue. He worked quietly, with reverent focus, his thumbs brushing softly over your hands and forearms.
You watched the water ripple, turning from clear into a dark cloud of what remained of the mission; your chest heaved with small hiccups. You could still feel the cold linger weight of blame pressing against your ribs. But as Neteyam's warm hands erased the stains from the battle, his hands moving softly across your skin, the suffocating feeling of guilt started to lift. Once finished, Neteyam rose again, taking your hand to help you up and both of you walked the path from your training grounds back to Hometree. He led the way, step by step, moving low-hanging branches or leaves out of your away glancing back to assure none of them touched you as he walked.
He shielded you from the stares, just as he had done at the lower roots. Although when you arrived at the healer circle, you stopped short standing several feet away. Neteyam stopped beside you, looking down at you, waiting for you. But you didn’t move any closer, shaking your head softly. You stepped away until your back hit a thick root. Sliding down it, you sat on the ground, pulling your legs close to you, your eyes trained on the opening of the healer circle. Getting mere glimpses of your parents hovering over Ro’kani’s resting body. Neteyam stood there; he looked toward the opening of the healer circle, then he looked down at you curled against the wood.
Not speaking, he made his choice. Taking three steps towards you, he slid down the root and sat right beside you, legs outstretched; he chose to be with you tonight. As the hours stretched on, the endeavors of the day had caught up to you; the physical and mental exhaustion of the day had finally won. Despite the want to watch over your family from where you sat, your body fought against the idea, your eyelids grew heavier, and your breathing slowed. Nodding off, you stopped fighting it; your head slumped sideways, resting against Neteyam's shoulder as you drifted quickly into a deep sleep. Neteyam shifted slightly, adjusting himself so you could rest comfortably against him.
An hour or so passed, and you shifted beside him, hugging yourself and snuggling close to him. Neteyam stared down watching over your movement, and every inhale and exhale and it was then a small worry crossed his mind. It was never truly freezing in the hollows Hometree unless the weather was stormy, but the chill of the night often did creep in through open spaces. He grew steadily worried that you would grow cold, that his body warmth would only do so much. But he didn’t want to move and wake you, bevause he feared you wouldn’t properly rest after. As if Eywa knew of his dilemma, the beaded curtain rustled catching Neteyam attention.
His grandmother, stepped out from the healer circle. Her hands were clean, the blood and sweat from tending to Ro’kani was washed away, but the sharp earthy scent of healing salves and herbs still clung to her skin. A comforting scent, and Neteyam eyes lit up, his ears twitching up slightly seeing the heavy thick fur blanket she carried in her arms. Approaching, her eldest grandson Mo’at gave him a knowing quiet look, and he subconsciously returned it reminding her of her daughter, his mother. Then her gaze drifted down to your sleeping form, snuggle close beside Neteyam. Without a word, she draped the warm blanket over the two of you.
“Thank you, Grandmother.” Neteyam whispered, barely audible, because he didn’t want to disturb your sleep.
Mo’at gave a soft smile, her hand moving to hold his face caressing his check softly before she stood up and turned away walking the path to her home.
Watching his grandmother go, Neteyam felt lighter somehow, assured. He relaxed a bit more, and carefully he moved the fur blanket around ensuring your had majority of it to protect you from the cold. Settling beside you, Neteyam rested his head softly against yours. His golden eyes stared at the entrance of the healer circle, seeing through the bead curtain that your family now slept peacefully around each other, the exhaustion had caught up to them as well. And Neteyam remained there, beside you through the entire night.
Early light began filtering through the massive canopy of Hometree, the cold from the night had slowly gone. And silence still filled the clearing; the clan had yet to awake yet.
Except the Olo’eyktan, who had slipped out early from his home making his usual rounds around Hometree to assure the safety of his people. One of his rounds was to the healer circle to see Ro’kani and your family. And as he approached, he found Neteyam.
He saw the two of you, tangled together under a thick fur blanket, completely exhausted. Jake simply stopped and stared for a moment, he didn’t wake Neteyam and you. He didn’t try to pry for a debrief that should’ve happened yesterday, instead he looked away peeking into the healer’s circle to see your family still sleeping. He gave one more glance over to you and Neteyam, and he smiled softly before walking away quietly leaving you to sleep peacefully.
Two hours passed, and slowly you began to regain consciousness pulling you from the heavy fog of sleep. But before you could even open your eyes, you were highly aware of an intense warmth enveloping you. Moving your arm an inch, you felt the soft texture of the blanket. And a steady thrumming sound pressed directly by your ear.
A heartbeat.
Your eyes fluttered open, your breath hitched as you realized your position. You weren’t just leaning against Neteyam like you remembered doing, no. You were tucked against his side, face buried in the curve of his neck and nose brushing his collarbone with every breath you took. And you felt around you, one of Neteyam’s arms wrapped securely over your shoulder keeping you close to him, while the tip of his tail brushed your ankle faintly and your own brushed his calf under the blanket.
Instantly, you pulse quickened, heart hammering against your ribs, a distinct sharp contrast to the slow steady rhythm of his. For a moment, for a terrifying, beautiful moment you couldn’t move, and you didn’t want to. You stayed there, right there tucked beside Neteyam. Breathing him in, his scent of pine, rain and the faint smell of soot he didn’t wash off. The realization of how much he made you feel safe made your ears flush with a shy warmth. Ears twitching against your hair, before peeking up to catch his soft breaths.
Before you could settle further into him, you heard a shift in his breathing. Neteyam began to move, his board chest expanding with a deep sleepy breath, his grip on your shoulder tightened instinctively for a brief second before his eyes slowly blinked open. Before either of you could speak a word, to talk about the morning closeness. The beaded curtain of the healer circle rustled open.
Pulling away from him slightly, the blanket slipped down off the both of you as your eyes locked on the Navi standing there.
Your mother stood there. Her eyes were tired, heavy bags under them but the panic and fear from yesterday was gone. When she saw you, the remain bit of it vanished form her. Replaced by an overwhelming feeling of relief and softness. She wasn’t surprised seeing Neteyam beside you, not even seeing you tucked close to him. Because she knew he was beside you the entire time.
“He is awake.” Your mother said, her voice rough from sleep. You sat up straighter and finally Neteyam arm legt your shoulder but rested close behind you still keeping you close to him.
“Ro’kani is asking for you.”
Shoulders tensing, the warmth you felt had instantly vanished replaced by the familiar feeling of dread. The blame rushed back to the surface with a crashing force, making a knot from in your stomach and throat swell with a lump.
He was awake. And you had to go in there, speak with him—look him in the eyes.
Neteyam felt you tense beside him, moving without a word his other hand moved under the blanket, finding yours and giving your hand a firm grounding squeeze.
Reminding you, you are not alone. That he is here.
Coaxing you from the warmth of the blanket you stood at the entrance of the healer's circle, you felt rooted to your spot. From there, through the gaps you could see your older brother. He was wrapped in clean white bandages, looking pale and battered but his was blinking, his eyes open.
Standing beside you, Neteyam didn’t push you inside, didn’t force you to step forward instead he made sure to stand with you. His larger steady presence acting as a quiet safety net, letting you take the lead at your own pace. And he would willingly follow.
Taking a deep breath, you exhale through your mouth slowly before stepping into the healing space. The silence felt heavy, your father and mother sat beside the mat, exhausted but relieved for their son and daughter.
You stood froze at the entrance a few feet away, lips pursed together tightly. Too scared to speak, too choked with guilt to kneel beside him and take his hands. Still, you couldn’t bear the thought, the constantly replay of you arrow being the reason he laid on that mat.
Feeling your presence, despite his mother's sharp protest and his father heavy hand on his shoulder, Ro’kani grunted and forced himself to sit up. Wincing, his ears twitched pinning against his messy hair as the pain rippled through his body, he ignored their warnings. He always hated being fussed over.
Finally sitting up, Ro’kani looked up past his parents and his eyes fell on you. Slowly, a soft familiar grin came to his lips, then he looked over to Neteyam who stood behind you close to the rough wall of bark then back to you. Ro’kani felt thankful, he knew he couldn’t comfort you last night, but he also knew without a doubt that Neteyam did.
Still unable to move, your eyes grew glossy as fresh tears threatened to fall. You open your mouth to speak to attempt too beg for forgiveness. But, that same lump from before continued to expand in your throat making it difficult to speak. Because you couldn’t find your voice, your face spoke for you. And like an older brother, he read you like an open book.
Your face held a look of pure guilt and crushing sadness that knew no end. The self blame was written in your tightly pursed lips that trembled, and in the broken look in your glossy eyes. Ro’kani stared up at you, his golden gaze scanning your face carefully. There was no playful smirk that he usual wore, that you are so accustomed to seeing. Instead, his face softened into something so deeply fond and sympathetic your tears finally fell. He recognized that face.
“I know that face,” Ro’kani said, his voice scratchy and weak but still filled with warmth. Weakly, with his bandaged arm he patted the other empty spot beside his mat opposite of your parents, right beside him. “But I don’t like when you wear it, come here.”
The soft tone of his voice broke the chain that’s rooted you to your spot, holding you back. Your legs finally moved, crossing the remaining distance between you two, you slowly sat down beside his mat. You didn’t reach for him, because a cruel voice in your head, whispered you would cause further harm if you did. So instead, your hands trembled moving to hold the edge of the blanket draped over his legs.
“I…I—” you choked, chest heaving as your struggled to speak. Eyes closed tight tears continued to flow down your face. Neteyam who stood off balled his fist beside him, fighting the urge to walk over and wipe them away.
“My arrow…Ro’kani I didn’t…I should’ve…”
Shaking his head softly, Ro’kani felt his heart break seeing you like this. “Hey, hey look at me,” he interrupted gently, his hands sliding over holding your hands. Ro’kani waited till you opened your eyes and looked up at him.
“Stop. Stop replaying it. Stop thinking of what ifs. You made that shot, a good shot that most couldn’t. And that shot kept the sky people metal from taking me away from this life early. You didn’t fail; you didn’t cause this—you saved me.” Ro’kani declared.
One of his hands left yours to wipe away your tears. “It wasn’t in the way you thought. Or the way you planned it out, but nonetheless you saved me, tsmuketsyìp (little sister).
Neteyam watched the two of you, a sense of relief washed over him as his fists unclenched and shoulders relaxed. You still felt at fault, though seeing your brother here giving you a soft stubborn grin teasing you about your never ending tears. And feeling Neteyam steady gaze. It felt like you could at least breathe, the suffocation had subsided. Even if it lingered like a ghost, haunting your thoughts it was nothing compared to the profound relief of seeing your brother look back at you.
Ro’kani was here. Alive and warm, his hand holding yours.
Deciding the room was too heavy for too long, Ro’kani mischievous glint returned, his eyes flickering behind you landing on Neteyam. A familiar teasing grin returned to his face.
“You know,” Ro’kani sang, voice playful and teasing despite his raspy throat. “I wake up in a pool of my own sweat, fighting for my life,” his hand came to his heart dramatically making your father shake his head at him. “Only to hear that my little sister was outside spending the entire night cuddled up under a blanket with the grand Olo’eyktan eldest son.”
Your ears shot back against your hair, warmth spreading across you face instantly. “Ro’kani,” you warned. You brother let out a weak laugh enjoying your reaction, highly satisfied with himself for brining it out. He looked over to Neteyam, giving him a knowing wink.
“What does Jake call it? A hero coming to save the day? I’m grateful you swooped right in bro.”
Standing near the entrance, Neteyam ears lifted up not flustered because of the teasing. But happy and he smiled, a rare, genuine smile at you, and at Ro’kani his friend who is going to be okay. His gaze met your embarrassed one from across the room and he shook his head amused. He gave you an unmistakable quiet ‘I told you so’ look, reminding you of his promise from the night before. That your brother would back to teasing you in no time, and Ro’kani wasted literally no time. Seeing your familiar dynamic return, your mother and father shook their heads fondly watching with tired smiles.
The heavy terror that had gripped your family since the mission had finally lifted, replaced by a familiar tenderness. Your father had left you mother walking to Neteyam he rested a hand on his shoulder in quite gratitude and subtle blessing, while your mother reached for you like the night before but instead of your hand, she brushed a braid from your face smiling at you with glossy eyes.
Though the nightmare wasn’t entirely over, the sky people threat still loomed in the forest, and that knowledges rested heavy on the Olo’eyktan shoulders.
The lighthearted moment faded from its warmth to the cold reality. Jake stepped into the beaded curtain rustling behind him. His eyes immediately went to Ro’kani, softening with relief seeing him sitting up and grinning. Then hjs gaze turned sharp and focused as it landed on his son.
“Neteyam, we need to debrief. The scouts I sent have just returned from the blast site; I need you there.” Jake said, voice low and carrying authority, then he turned to you his gaze softening. “Y/n, your father will join us shortly, but I want you to go eat and rest first. You’ve given enough of yourself to the night.” His tone softened as he spoke to you, eyes shifting between you and Ro’kani.
Swallowing hard, the mention of the blast made your chest tighten, hands trembling softly under Ro’kani hold before he gave a soft assuring squeeze. You gave a small obedient nod at Jake orders. Neteyam straightened, falling into his familiar disciplined posture.
“Yes sir,” he replied softly.
Neteyam moved first stepping out of the healer circle behind his father, giving you and your family a moment of privacy as to talk. Subconsciously your eyes followed Neteyam back, watching as the beaded curtain closed behind him. After speaking with you family and giving Ro’kani hand a squeeze you promised to meet them at the family pod later.
As you walked out of the healing space, the bright light of Hometree seemed to blind you causing you to squint. You expected Neteyam to already followed after his father, ready to speak of the mission. But instead, you found him standing a few feet away waiting for you. Jake had already walked ahead giving Neteyam this moment with you.
Looking up his ears lifted seeing you, he approached you taking your forearm gently to lead you away from the main root of path to a nearby quieter one. His straightened shoulders, relaxed as his eyes met yours, his stoic expression replaced by a gentle protective warmth. He stood close, but not too close still always measuring with you, always keeping your comfort in mind. Neteyam golden eyes searched your face, seeing the lingering tiredness in your eyes and the way you fingers twitched before reaching for his forearm pulling him only a little closer.
“You did good in there.” Neteyam murmured, his voice a low rumble only meant for you. “He doesn’t blame you, Y/n. I hope you can start believing that now, truly.”
Neteyam looked down at your hand, the one that held his forearm in that gentle grip. Slowly he reached out, his larger hand hovered over your hand for a brief second before settling on top of your hand. His gave your forearm a soft squeeze.
“I have to go meet my father,” he said his golden gaze locking onto yours with such an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. It was a slow burning gaze that kept you rooted to your spot, rooted to him. “But Iam going to check on you later. Go eat, and sleep. And promise me you won’t sit alone in your thoughts.”
You gave him a look, a conflicted one that deemed that promise would be hard to keep. But the raw sincerity in his voice softened that mindset.
“I promise.” You whispered.
Neteyam let his hands linger on your forearm, on your hand for a beat too long, his thumb sweeping lightly against your knuckles before he finally pulled away. Giving you a small nod, and a faint encouraging smile, he turned away and jogged lightly down the path to meet his father. Leaving you standing in the morning light, the lingering warmth of hiss touch still burning against your skin. Your hands rose to rest where Neteyam’s had been, then you turn away.
The small quiet of your own pod did little to ease the thoughts you found yourself drowning into. You were supposed to be resting, but the walls of your home felt like they were closing in on you. That every assuring word spoken to you felt like nothing here, standing in the quiet.
Keeping Neteyam promise in mind, you stepped out of your dirty gear, standing in front of your water basin you finally washed away the leftover soot and sweat from the rest of your body. There wasn’t much thanks to Neteyam. As the cool water trickled down your skin, your mind began to drift. Pulling you back into the events that happened last night. Replaying every second, you remember Neteyam shifting close to you in the clearing, extending his hands to you. Remembered the overwhelming feeling of safety, breaking down against your strong unyielding hold. Holding onto his torso unwilling of letting go. His soft reverent touch as he washed away the blood, from your hands at the stream.
Most of all you remembered waking up beside him after the exhausting day, tangled together under the fur blanket, your face pressed into the curve of his neck. Listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. You remembered how you didn’t want to move, how you wanted to tuck yourself further into him.
Your feelings were shifting, the feelings you didn’t name before, that couldn’t name. But it was the only thing you could think of when looking at Neteyam or simply thinking of him. The line of him being the friend of your brother, a childhood friend had blurred into something much deeper before you could fully grasp it.
He made it better.
A simple thought, but it held so much weight that it shook you.
Gaze drifting across the room, they landed on your heavy bow and quiver sitting on your weapon rack. The warm feelings left, replaced by a crushing familiar feeling of self blame. You still hadn’t truly forgiven yourself, and right now you couldn’t just lie and sleep while Ro’kani was still in bandages in the healer circle. When the sky people still loomed near, edging closer to your home.
Grabbing your weapons, you ignored your hammock entirely. You needed to train, needed to draw the sting back until your fingers bleed. Until everything flew perfectly, with no fault whatsoever.
Until it was enough.
But deep down, that same cruel voice—your voice told you it never would be. Jaw tight, and ears pinned against your messy braids, you walked to your training spot anyway, desperate to outrun your own mind.
hello, do you think you can make something about Neteyam and a reader, I have no preference for rather she be forest or water Navi, just female please🤍 where reader is OBSSESED with Neteyam’s biceps.
i don’t know if you take request right now, I just really liked the idea.
pairing: aged up neteyam sully x fem omatikaya reader
notes: mentions of blood, and little jealousy. the reader feeling heavy guilt and blame
s: neteyam understands his feelings much better, and gets to see a softer side to you now. But understanding those feelings comes with unwarranted jealousy.
w.c: 5.9k
pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4
Warmth moved through the thick humid air; the chatter of the clan was a low distant hum. The young hunters who had trained under Neteyam and you on that rare day stood a bit off from hometree. A small training grounds, mindless chatter and the tension of bow strings filled the air. A soft thwack carried, sending a soft jolt through the compact soil. Exhaling, she reached out removing the arrow from the moss target.
“Y/n said not to rush. Don’t let your arrow be cruel.” The girl scolded putting the arrow with the others gathered under her arm. The boy rolled his eyes, “I’m not rushing.” He grumbled. Reaching into his quiver for another arrow. But then something caught his eye. Hand stilling, he kept his eyes trained on the trees, a shadow gliding through the air.
“What are you—”
“Look!” He called out, voice brimming with excitement, the irritation from earlier gone.
Pointing in the air, their eyes landed on the ikran, the distinctive dark majestic blues and purple striping’s familiar. Gliding lazily through the air, the Navi sitting upon the mount did so differently than others. That was a tell alone.
“Go! Go! Let’s go tell everyone!”
The young hunters dropped their weapons. Bows, arrows and quivers left in the dirt. Their braids whipped behind them in the air as they ran through the trees, jumping over small boulders and roots. Ducking under low hanging branches and pushing past leaves. Looking back, they raced against the shadow, grinning and laughing. Excitement buzzing through their veins. Quickly, hometree came into view, and their poor attempts at ululating carried catching the attention of other clan members.
“Lo’ak is back!”
Word spread quickly, the calm of the morning replaced by the excitement of the return of Tork Makto youngest son. You sat near the edge of the clearing, had heard the young hunters screams and jumps of joy as you bundled your newly crafted arrows. In the distance you saw a small girl, her short braids moved with her every step as she dropped her basket of fruit and ran after the young hunters, little Tuk. Kiri, who had been doing the chore with her, called for her but the young girl had taken off. With a soft shake of her head, Kiri followed after her feet moving faster than she would admit. You gaze fell to the basket of fruit laid forgotten, shaking your head softly you returned your arrows to your quiver. Walking over to the forgotten chore, you cleaned up the fruit returning it to the basket.
Piling the basket with the other gatherings you kept yourself busy. You personally believed this moment of Lo’ak return wasn’t for you to be a part of. It was for friends and family. The clan happiest stimmed from the knowledge that tonight would be a feast for this return, also because he returned safely. Though you were happy about his return from Awa’atlu. Happy he was safe. It was fitting for him to be greeted by his family alone.
But you should’ve known he wouldn’t have it that way.
He had found you before you could slip away, and you had heard him approaching. Stopping behind you he stood with his arms crossed over his chest staring at your crouched form.
“I know you’ve heard, let’s go great the skxwang.” Ro’kani said.
Your attention remained on the baskets, making them neat, a pointless chore. Your reply was quick and short.
“No.”
“I wasn’t asking.” He grinned turning away from you, slowly walking the path to the ikran landings. Looking over your shoulder, you stood glaring at his back. “You can’t drag me to greet him.”
Ro’kani walked backwards, eyes drifting to the ground before returning to your stern gaze with a teasing grin. “Good thing you’re already moving.”
You knew what he was getting at, despite your protest and thoughts of leaving Lo’ak be. Your feet were already moving, following after him. Ro’kani faced forward, and you could hear his grin widening.
“It’s not dragging if you come willingly.”
“Don’t make me turn around.”
“You won’t”
Making it to the ikran landing roots, clan members had gathered, lingering behind the Sully family bright with energy. You moved through the sea of blue behind Ro’kani allowing him to make the path. You were never one for crowds. Once out of the crowd you saw, Tuk attached to Lo’ak hip arms tight around his waist as she stared up at him mouth running with question before Lo’ak reached into his porch pulling over small trinkets for her to take. With childlike joy, her eyes were bright and wide she ran off to show off her gifts.
Kiri moved in next to hugging her overgrown little brother with an annoyed expression that held that fond softness of an older sister. She rolled her and eyes scolded him for a moment when he lifted her off her feet against her wishes. Neytiri and Jake moved in, his mother’s hands held his face turning it over in her palms her eyes scanned his body as well, assuring her son had returned to her whole. While Jake stood with his hand at the back of Lo’ak’s head bringing him into a rough fatherly hug whispering something only for Lo’ak to hear, he grinned in return. His smile a copy of Jakes.
Eyes drifting away from the family, they fell on Neteyam. He stood close, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He wore a faint smile, reserved for his family. A softness so vulnerable to see on him you forced yourself to look away, deeming yourself unworthy to see that expression. Just when you looked away, Neteyam eyes fell on you capturing his attention.
Approaching with confidence, Ro’kani and Lo’ak gazes locked together, grins matching. “Man, all this time away and my looks outmatch you. I feel deep sorrow for Tsireya.” Ro’kani grimaced.
Lo’ak released a short chuckle, shoulders relaxing more. “You were never a good liar. But you’ve always been fluent in sprouting bullshit. Have you learned nothing from auntie?”
Ro’kani opened his arms, and Lo’ak came crashing into them, a rough brotherly hug. Their laughter mixed together with ease. Releasing him, Ro’kani ruffled Lo’ak braids, his beads and shells clacked together under the sign of affection.
“I’m glad your back.”
“Happy to be back.” Lo’ak grinned.
Then his golden eyes shifted to you, and they still held the same fondness he had looked at Ro’kani with. Most straighten around you, making their movements more careful or fell silent completely. That dumb name made you a warning to others, but Lo’ak had never been good at listening to warnings.
Smiling at you Lo’ak stood in front of you, “why are you already glaring at me? I haven’t done anything.” He chuckled.
“I’m not glaring.” You glared.
“Right.” He sang teasingly. “I’ve been gone so long, I’ve forgotten this is your natural scowl silent huntress.”
Before you could roll your eyes, or grumble complaints about the name he engulfed you in a hug. It was brief, warm and careless, so Lo’ak. No one here was crazy enough to try this despite your own family, and of course Lo’ak. But still you froze, but only for a moment before your hands came up to his shoulders resting there. It was small, and it could also be considered nothing. But Neteyam stood watching, and to him it didn’t feel like anything.
He watched as you allowed Lo’ak into your space, allowed him to hug you. Saw how you didn’t step back or close off. You even accepted the hug, your ears moving back slightly not in discomfort but in slight embarrassment. Something sharp and ugly twisted in his chest, a contrast to the soft quiet pull he felt whenever he was with you,
Jealousy.
It came and settled so quickly Neteyam didn’t have time to stop it. And he hated himself for even having the feeling, because its completely idiotic to feel this way. Lo’ak is his brother and mated to Tsireya. That hug was nothing but affection and familiarity. A small action of welcome home. You didn’t do anything wrong either, this was your friendship. One Neteyam has always known about, had seen grow while he stood off to the side respecting your set boundaries. Still, he felt jealous.
It wasn’t the hug, not really. But instead, it was boundaries.
Neteyam has spent his time respecting them. Being patient and careful, waiting for permission to cross them. And over these past weeks, he has been making progress, and he will continue to respect whatever and any boundary you set. And Lo’ak also respected your boundaries, but in his own Lo’ak way. Warmth first, and caution second. But with Neteyam he has always chosen caution so many times in his life, it is instinctive. And watching Lo’ak step over your boundary not even thinking about caution with a bright grin and being allowed to stay.
Neteyam gaze dropped to woven platform. Guilt overtook him as he couldn’t help but want what Lo’ak had, or at least his nature of thinking of caution second.
Ro’kani looked for Neteyam, ready to pull him into the conversation. But he stilled, watching as his friend stared at the ground, his face contoured in a conflicted, guilty and jealously ridden expression. Tilting his head, Ro’kani looked at you standing talking to Lo’ak then back to Neteyam who remain fixated on the threading of the old woven patterns. He sighed through his nose, grin softening. Lo’ak also noticed, his curiosity quiet and questioning as he watched his older brother behave out of character.
“You look like someone stole your favorite bow.” He teased, mouth twitching.
Neteyam lifted his head, instantly his eyes fell to you before flicking back to Lo’ak who had noticed. “I’m fine.”
“Sure.” Lo’ak laughed under his breath, eyes dancing between you and Neteyam subtly,
“What?” you looked at him, eyes narrowed.
“Nothing.” Lo’ak and Ro’kani answered at the same time. Now you looked at both with growing suspicion. Not believe either of them.
Ro’kani ignored your glare, his hand resting against Lo’ak shoulder. “I have so much to tell you.”
“Ro’kani.” You and Neteyam said at the same time, eyes locking together before you looked away first. Lo’ak grinned his tail, swishing low against the ground radiating with teenage mischief.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
The warmth of Lo’ak carried from that morning to late night, under the clan fires of celebrations and cheers of praise. Stories were told, missed ones, old ones and new ones. More from Lo’ak of his time in Awa’atlu, about Tsireya, his newly mate, how the people are there and his improvements in ranks there. In the mix of it all you sat with the family and friends, beside Ro’kani and Nìraya beside you leaving her little one to her mate for the night to welcome a longtime friend. The night consisted of easy laughter and excitement that settled in your heart, warm known but not always felt.
But with the way things were on pandora, good things come to an end.
That next morning, laughter shifted to duty, Lo’ak stood with his father, older brother, warriors and elders in the pavilion. Sharing news, he had gathered and seen on his flight.
RDA. Not soldiers, or amp suits with their fire cannons. No, just structures, rebuilding in places they’d cleared up months ago. Moving in supplies to rebuild to conquer and destroy the forest.
When the sun was at its peak, surrounding the map laid with markers and routes on the war table was a small group gathered by Jake himself. His finger pointed across the map, west. “It should be a quick sweep,” he said palm resting against the map his gaze drifting up to the warriors before him. “Not long. You should be back by nightfall. We need eyes on that old portal route. Make sure nothing is active, and nothing is being moved.”
Jake eyes fell to Ro’kani who stood in the middle, bow slung over his shoulder, knife sheath over his chest. “You will scout inner ridge, check the old outside clearings. Take two others with you, don’t crowd you don’t want to be spotted. Don’t engage unless you have to. We need information, not a fight.”
Ro’kani nodded once, straightened to full height. “Understood sir.”
Jake nodded, “Dismissed, prepare your ikrans.”
Following the other warriors out Ro’kani came to stop seeing you standing outside, waiting for him. With a lopsided grin he approached you.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Where did he assign you?” you ignored him.
Shaking his head Ro’kani titled his head back in the direction of ikran landing. “Old portal routes out west. I go with two others, get information and avoid a fight. It will be short.”
“You’re not one to avoid a fight.”
“No. But I know when to pick them.” He grinned.
You stared at him, ears flat against your hair, frown more a pout. Ro’kani lips curled into a faint smile. “Don’t give me that look.”
“I don’t have a look.”
“You have one for everything. And that one,” he points at your face still smiling but not with tease but fondness. “Is the one when you want to tell me to be careful, a sign that your care for your older tsmukan safety.”
“Be careful.” Your ears twitched against your hair again.
Ro’kani smile softened, fond. “I will. I know to behave whenever you’re not around.” He brought his hand to your head resting there briefly, and you welcomed it.
“That is why father says your never listen.” You scolded and Ro’kani laughed in return.
From afar, standing with other warriors waiting for another debrief with his father. Neteyam watched the exchange. The jealousy from yesterday left a faint linger, shamefully still resting beneath his ribs. Though as he watched Ro’kani smile at you, teasing your frown that was more a pout as you worry for him slipped through your mask. It reminded him of something important.
Others were allowed to know you in ways he didn’t. Lo’ak, Ro’kani, Nìraya, your parents and whoever.
And with him, he would have to do it the way he has known. Patiently. He would earn the spot beside you, without turning his want into pressure. Because he valued you, that much he knew.
The call of your name brought your attention from your brothers back as he walked the rooted path to his ikran. Turning, you saw Jake standing at the entrance of the pavilion waving you over where Neteyam stood beside him. Straightening you approached the two stopping beside Neteyam, the distance between you two palpable. Neteyam gaze remained fixed on your stiff posture beside him, mimicking his own.
Jake clearing his throat brought Neteyam attention back to him. “Y/n, you and Neteyam will secure the outer line near the lower slope. Stay close enough to respond if Ro’kani’s group signals, but don’t crowd the route. If their equipment is there, so are their soldiers. I don’t want anyone walking in blind.”
Both of you nodded. “Yes, sir.” You spoke in unison.
A short assignment, beside Neteyam isn’t new and these always went easily with you two. And the worry from earlier had lessened. You would be within reach to respond to Ro’kani if he needed aid. One short sweep, that is all.
It didn’t take you or Neteyam long to mount your ikrans and take off into the sky. Your ikran cut through the warm air beside Neteyam’s gliding easy and low enough to the treetops. And ahead farther west Ro’kani’s group had already vanished beyond the ridge. You tried not to look in that direction too often. Because looking wouldn’t make your brother safe, wouldn’t draw you any closer to him. So, you didn’t, instead your ears twitched west anytime something shifts wrong, or you felt uneasy. And Neteyam noticed, his gaze shifting to you everyone few seconds.
“You trust him.” He said, voice low crackling through the comms. Your ear twitched.
“Yes.” You replied, finger tightening around you’re the leather reins.
His eyes went to your grip then back to you. “But you still worry.”
“Trusting him doesn’t stop the fear.”
Neteyam went quiet after because he understood that feeling. He had felt it whenever Lo’ak traveled alone, the feeling had eased when he returned. Instead of speaking again he glided his ikran closer to yours, not enough to crowd but enough that you felt his steady presence. And to your quiet dismay it helped.
Your ear twitched once and twice within a second. Almost trying to shake the small metal comm pressed against your ear. You hated it. You had protested against wearing it before leaving, while Jake only lifted an eyebrow at your response to the device. He reminded you that you would need it to keep in contact if something went wrong. So, you wore it, but you hated the cold foreign feeling of it. The weight of it against your ear. Your ear twitched constantly than you reached for it. Once, twice, then a third time. Fingers brushing against the device tempted to rip it off and throw it into the forest below.
Neteyam had already been watching your ear, and now he saw your mess with the piece. “Don’t.”
You shot him a look. “It’s heavy,” you said exasperated.
“It weighed less than your arrowheads.”
“My arrowheads belong around me.” Your fingers hovered over the comm again. “Sky people metal doesn’t.”
A crackling sounded in your ear, causing your ears to twitch against your head. Then Ro’kani voice cut through clearly amused.
“Did I just hear my baby sister speaking through comms? Willingly?”
Your stomach eased hearing his voice, but your face went flat brimming with annoyance. Neteyam looked away, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Don’t start Ro’kani.”
“Oh, but I have to. This is a rare moment, historic even. You hate metal and yet you’ve accepted the tiny demon in your ear.” He said pleased with himself.
“I didn’t accept anything. Jake order it, I am not one to disobey orders.” You said the last part slow and firm.
“Ah, a shot at me. Baring your fangs huh.” He laughed through the comms, the sound roughened up by the static.
“Neteyam,” Ro’kani voice continued to crack through the comms. “Has her ear been twitching? She’s been touching it hasn’t she?”
Neteyam looked to you for a second than away. “No.”
Ro’kani laugh crackled through the comes louder and bright with disbelief. “You are already lying for her?”
Your head turned to Neteyam, so fast your ikran gave a low screech in protest. Neteyam didn’t meet your gaze keeping his eyes forward face causal and innocent.
“I answered your question.” He said.
“With a lie.” Ro’kani replied. “Brother, I know she has touched that thing so much I can basically hear her clawing at it.”
“I don’t have claws.” You muttered.
“I beg to differ; you’ve been clawing at me since you’ve been born. Especially when irritated.” Ro’kani said delighted and wicked. “And Neteyam, you’ve reached the stage of defending her bad habits? Have I missed something?”
“It’s not a bad habit, at least I don’t think so.” He said causally, not explaining why he defended you.
“So, you are protecting her?”
“Ro’kani.” You warned.
“What? I am just noting recent developments.”
Neteyam fought his smile, “if you keep talking,” he looked over to you, amusement dancing through his eyes. “She will remove the comms.”
“I was going to remove it anyway.”
Ro’kani released a chuckle. “See? He knows you so well now.”
Dropping your fingers from your comms. Your ears twitched with annoyance and embarrassment. “Focus on your route. You are distracted.”
“I am focused. Can I not be focused and entertained?”
“No.” You replied, quick and sharp.
Neteyam chuckled low, “you are impossible.”
“And you are a terrible liar.”
Before Neteyam could continue the conversation, the comm went silent. Deadly silent, Ro’kani teasing had stopped. Something had changed. Your hand moved to your bow holding it steady in your hand while your ears moved west, your nose twitched in the air. Oil. Unknown to pandora air, meaning sky people—RDA.
The easy playful atmosphere had gone, replaced by the mask of duty. Your fond irritation, the faint smile that had barely been there had vanished, replaced by rooted worry and focus. Neteyam own amusement had gone, gripping his own bow, his posture had straightened. His amber eyes scanned the thick canopy below. Then the static filled your ears, Ro’kani voice returned, lower now devoid of laughter. “You smell that?”
You did. You both did. “Yeah,” Neteyam replied. “They are moving. Don’t engage, find out what is needed. We are close if you need us.”
“Copy.” Ro’kani replied before cutting out.
Focused, your ikran banked lower following Neteyam. Descending through the trees, the slope came into view. Thick branches were broken, covered in ash and metal. Fresh tracks, metal scrap caught between thick bark. And tree cut down, too clean to be done by the forest. They had been here, walking the old route. The route that had been quiet for months, abandoned after the clan had drawn them back. But now they were using it again, trying to win back what they had lost.
Neteyam voice was quiet beside you. “Stay close.”
You nodded once understanding.
Both of you moved without speaking, feet moving easily and quiet against the bent grass darkness by oil. Neteyam moved on your left, eyes scanning the slope with that quiet focus. You were the same, holding a few arrows with your bow crouched over the grass inspecting the prints.
“These tracks, they’re fresh.” You murmured, fingered hovering over the heavy footprints. “Too fresh,” you said breathlessly, turning your head to look up at him. “Not even a day, Neteyam.”
He heard it, the soft panic in your voice the worry swirling through your eyes. Neteyam expression tightened. Without hesitating his fingers moved to his comms ready to call out, to confirm locations and tell them to draw back.
“Ro’kani do you—
An ikran screech, gun fire and static. Then sharp ululating—a warning.
You rose from the ground, your head snapped west. In his direction.
Ro’kani.
You took off running before Neteyam. Springing through the underbrush, leaping over large branches and floral. Your bow clenched right in your hand, your heart beating against your ribs so hard it hurt. Neteyam was beside you quickly, still trying to reach Ro’kani over comms, but he kept getting static.
“Fuck.” He hissed frustrated.
Running beside you, matching your steps with ease Neteyam looked to you.
“Y/n. We can’t rush in blind.”
“Then we keep our eyes open.”
Neteyam didn’t have the heart to argue, because he knew you were focused on one thing alone.
Ro’kani.
So, he said nothing, instead deciding to run beside you, providing you with the support needed.
Reaching the west ridge, you came to the clearing scarred by the sky people. Human crates sat half hidden under camouflage netting. A large amp suit moved over the musky soil, damaged by the poison of the oil. And scattered through the old camp were soldiers holding their demon weapons. And there, near the far side was Ro’kani and his two warriors, ducking to take cover. Trying to retreat without drawing attention to all the soldiers. But they had already been seen.
The AMP suit turned, heavy arms lifting, the weapon tracked their path, Ro’kani’s path.
Your breath left you, body running cold.
“No.”
There were a lot of soldiers. A lot of movement and possibilities but you saw your target. A fuel canister strapped along the AMP’s side, exposed. If you hit it, the suit would fall before it could fire. Your eyes shifted to Ro’kani, he was far enough. The trees before him will take the majority of the blast. Then in one calculated breath, your body moved instinctively. Remembering everything your father had drilled into you, what you spent years honing. The distance, the wind, the angle and the force.
One breath, and your arrow flew.
And it hit true.
The canister burst violently, giving off a wave of heat. The AMP jerked sideways, the suit malfunctioned and then the exploding tore through its frame. And for a second you felt relief.
Then pieces went flying, and one specific piece cut through the air faster than a blink. It struck his side, sinking into his skin. Your eyes widened and your breath left you.
Ro’kani staggered, one hand flying to his ribs while his other pushed another warrior away protecting him from the incoming pieces. Those same pieces cut at his body. His stared down at the wound, blood spread between his fingers spilling fast. The warrior he had saved shouted his name in distress, holding him up before he could fall.
The soldiers began spraying and Neteyam pulled you behind the trees. And with ease, he began knocking down soldiers. His voice shouted over the fire, giving orders to return fire, and the other two aided him. But you heard nothing, saw nothing but Ro’kani clenching his side chest raising and falling in short breaths.
Then you were moving before you realized it. Leaving Neteyam ssideaid, he turned instantly seeing you running. He followed stilling aiming and killing soldiers.
“Cover her!” His voice yelled clear and sharp through the chaos.
Sliding on your knees, you stopped beside Ro’kani small twigs and strays of metal tearing at your skin. Your hands went to his wound instantly, pressing hard to stop the rapid bleeding. Warm blood soaked through your fingers; his blood soaked your fingers. Too much of it.
Ignored the churning of your stomach and thoughts of an outcome you couldn’t live with, you forced your hand steady, forced your voice steady.
“Stay with me.” You said palms pressing firm causing him to wince in pain. Your ears pinned flat against your hair. “Ro’kani look at me, keep your eyes open.”
He looked at you, and you looked at him. His face was pale, not that vibrant blue you are use to seeing. His breathing came sharp and shot through clenched teeth. And still somehow, he smiled. He smiled at you, barely but he was smiling.
“You look…angry.” He rasped struggling to breathe.
“Don’t talk”
“That bad huh?” He tried to keep his tone casual; to keep his voice light but he released a pain groaned in return.
“I said don’t talk, Ro’kani.” Your voice cracked speaking his name. It lost its steadiness and you hated it. Hated that he heard hit and covering you, Neteyam had heard it as well.
Moving quickly, you pulled out your medical wraps and leaves that would stop the bleeding. Noticing you didn’t have much, you cursed under your breath but still dressed the wound with them working around where the metal piece remained. Your hands moved perfectly and steady, too perfect. You remembered your mother’s teachings, remembered watching Mo’at. You knew what to do. Knew not to remove the metal because he would bleed out and go into shock. You knew to stop what you could, to keep him alive until you could get to Mo’at.
Moments later, the gunfire had stopped and Neteyam dropped down beside you, kneeling in the dirt. The two other warriors stood guard watching and waiting to see if any more came. Neteyam eyes went Ro’kani his hand resting against his friend shoulder. Than to your hands, that didn’t shake. That moved with perfect memory, tying the wrap tight while pressing hard keeping the leaves in place. That’s what’s scared him, your steady hands. Then his eyes drifted to your own. And there he saw them, lost and young. Carrying the weight of guilt. His jaw clenched at the sight.
“Y/n. We have to move him,” Neteyam said gently urgency in every word. “Now.”
Hearing him, you nodded once. Though your hands remained over his side not pressing but there and Ro’kani hand came to your wrist, resting there weak but present.
“Don’t,” his breath hitched before continuing. “Don’t blame yourself for this.”
“Ro’kani.” Your voice came out small, so small and fragile.
His eyes found yours through the pain. “You saved us.” He whispered. “The sky people did this to me, not you.”
You wanted to believe him. Eywa, you wanted to believe him so badly it hurt. But you couldn’t. Because all you could see was your arrow leaving your fingers. Hitting the canister, seeing it burst. The metal flying, and your calculations being wrong. Your hands drenched in your brother's blood.
Neteyam crouched beside you, one hand hovering near your shoulder but not touching you. “Y/n. We’ve got to go.”
You looked at him. Really looked at him, and for once Neteyam didn’t hide what he was feeling. Fear and worry sat plain in his golden eyes. Fear for you, for Ro’kani. Even in the fear, beneath it was the one thing he always gave you.
His steady presence.
“Help me get him up.” He said softly. And so, you did. Moving Ro’kani body from the ground your help Neteyam to his ikran. Getting on, Neteyam strapped Ro’kani carefully in front of him, holding him so he wouldn’t slip.
The flight back to Hometree felt like the longest flight of your life. You flew directly beside Neteyam. So close your ikran snapped at Neteyam’s when their wingtips brushed. You didn’t apologize and Neteyam didn’t want to you. Didn’t want you to move either. Because he knew your need the closeness, assurance. So, he said nothing. With every passing second your eyes moved to Ro’kani. To his bandages that continued to stain red with his blood.
By the time you landed, Neteyam had already called for preparations. Even then his voice carried through and the clan was ready. People were beside Neteyam’s ikran as soon as he landed, Jake was amongst them. You quickly slid off your ikran to help him carry Ro’kani off. You brought your hand to his side apply pressure to stop the bleeding. You gave him support with Neteyam helping him to the healer's circle.
Moving into the healer's circle, carefully you placed Ro’kani on the prepared woven mat. Your mother arrived quickly, whispering quick prayers and denials. Your father was close behind her; face covered in terror he tried to hide but failed. Mo’at moved through the crowd, calm and fierce, her hands replacing yours.
“Move aside.” Mo’at ordered.
And you obeyed, because she was Mo’at. This was her space, her element. And you’ve done what you could, and now you would only be in the way.
Your mother fell beside Ro’kani, her trembling fingers moved to his hair. Brushing his braids from his damp forehead. Your father knelt beside her one hand around her giving support while his other laid clenched on his thigh, nails digging into his skin bruising his palm. Ro’kani eyes fluttered, barely able to keep them open. And they found you.
“Stay.” He breathed.
Bottom lip trembling, you bit down to prevent it from continuing. You almost obeyed him, almost took the spot beside your mother. But then Mo’at cut away the blood soaked bandage, and you saw the wound fully. Saw the leaves not stop the blood nearly enough. Saw what your decision has caused. What your arrow has caused. Saw your brother's blood on your hands, dried under your nails and smeared on your wrist.
Blame.
Forcing your face still, neutral like the mask you’ve always worn. Your straightened forcing your breathing even. Forcing yourself calm. Ro’kani knew better, Neteyam did as well. He saw the tremble in your fingers. Saw it slowly build until you curled them into fist at your sides. And swallowed trying to force the lump in your throat away. Your mother reached for you, not looking away from Ro’kani but needing the assurance that her other child was alive, was safe and unharmed.
“Ma’ite—”
You stepped back before her hand could touch you. Just out of reach, just one step. But it was enough, and everyone saw it.
Ro’kani struggled forcing his eye lids open, frustrated that he couldn’t keep the open. “Y/n…”
You didn’t answer him, you couldn’t answer him. Because if you did it wouldn’t be words that came out, it would be pure grief. Guilt. It would be you, cracking open for everyone to see. So instead of answering, you turned away.
The healing circle went quiet, Mo’at experienced work filled the quiet along with Ro’kani ragged breathes. Your father eyes followed you; pain and confusion twisted across his face. Your mother watched with wet eyes, her hand still hovering where you had been. Neteyam had been watching you the entire time, his gaze followed you out. And he took one step before stopping himself.
Ro’kani asked you to stay. You heard him, everyone heard him but instead you walked away. Out of the healing circle you continued walking, passing Lo’ak and the other warriors waiting outside. Their gazes followed you, but they didn’t. Your steps were measured and even, aiming to keep your mask up. Walking past the cook fires, your vision grew blurry, and one tear had slipped.
A cook saw. He stilled, eyes tracking you until you disappeared behind the thick roots. He didn’t call out, didn’t know how.
“What is it?”
A female cooked asked noticing her friend no longer preparing the roots for roasting.
“Y/n.” He said slowly with disbelief and understanding. “She is crying.” The women face fell. Word had carried of Ro’kani condition. And the two cooks didn’t speak any further instead worked in silence praying silently that Eywa gave Ro’kani a speedy recovery. And to lessen the burden on your shoulders.
It’s when you passed the lower roots, the place where Neteyam had helped you that day. Shielding you from wandering eyes. Your steps lacked control; you staggered before forcing yourself still. Once your feet touched the grass, once your forest swallowed you, you ran.
Branches snapped around you, nicking at your arms and legs. Overgrown roots caught your feet, but you didn’t trip. You ran fast, legs burning but you didn’t slow down. You knew this path two well, even with vision blurred by your tears. It led you away from the loud voices, away from hands reaching to comfort you. Away from your brother bleeding because you were wrong. Your training spot came into view, quiet and empty. Covered in moss targets and bark targets hung with vines. A weapon rack full of a variety of bows and knives. This place where you trained till your fingers bleed, till your arms shook with over exertion. Until your father teachings became instinctive, until your own wants and became nothing but distant thoughts.
You came to a stop in the center, chest heaving. For a fragile moment, you stood tall. Then your hand came to your chest rubbing at it as if it could ease the pain. But it did nothing. Dropping to your knees. The first sob tore out of you so violently it hurt. Your hand came to your mouth, trying to force it back. Trying to stop it from drawing attention. But there was no one here to watch you. No clan members. No Ro’kani teasing you until you felt better. No Neteyam giving you his steady presence without you asking.
It was only you.
You bent forward, forehead pressed into the dirt, your blood stained hands curled into the soil. Your shoulders shook as your cries tore through you. And you sat there feeling, blaming yourself.
Alone and broken, punishing yourself for being wrong.
pairings: aged up lo’ak sully x fem omatikaya reader
s: lo'ak slipped up once and dwells on it, but with your assurance you ease his insecurities.
w.c: 1.5k
a/n: I’ve been listening to Malcolm Todd too much this will not be the last oneshot inspired by one of his songs I fear😭 but side note i feel like lo'ak will always remember jakes scoldings and disappointment which is relatable but also sad
The sunlight scattered throughout the thick canopy, lighting the path of the footprints left in the mud. Blurs of blue moved through the thick greenery swiftly. Leaves made way, branches bent against their skin. Mud splattered with every step. The air was thick and humid; the rain from the previous night had been a downpour. Which made tracking more difficult, finding tracks in the mud slides had taken two hours too long. So, they couldn’t lose this trail, their hunt.
Two lead ahead, their strides matching each other almost competing. They stood taller, shoulders boarder than most Navi men. Bows in hand, arrows notched and ready, the beast was straight ahead. A clear, and easy target. As if speaking wasn’t necessary, the both of them ready themselves, arms raised into the form branded into them. Readying to aim—then he stepped wrong.
The mud shifted beneath him, only an inch that led to him leaning back almost falling but instead he buckled in. Dropping hard into the mud, his arrow flew wide missing the beast. But Neteyam’s had landed. It didn’t end the beast, recovering quickly, he notched another arrow aiming again to end its suffering.
Together with the other hunters they secured the kill. After finishing, Lo’ak stood off to the side, posture rigid. Ears pinned against his head tail low and unmoving behind him when he saw his father approaching. He was prepared for the usual scolding lecture, harsh and wounding. Instead, a rough hand rested against the back of his neck. Jake looked at Lo’ak for a long second before speaking.
“It hard to find good footing in mud. Don’t beat yourself up.”
Not a lecture, not even a scolding. A simple comment on what had happened, and why it had happened. Along with assurance that it wasn’t a big deal. But it didn’t feel like it. That small slip up felt massive. Lingering in his mind, play back without ceasing. Other hunters mention the same mistake, joking about themselves also falling. Saying it wasn’t a big deal they had caught the beast anyway. Lo’ak found it hard to hear them, to see their words as comfort.
Returning to Hometree the hunters made their arrival known and loud. Marching into the clearing with the bountiful kill in tow. Clan members and children came down to greet them. Surrounding them, they sang cheers and praises to all the hunters who had worked. Especially Neteyam and Lo’ak as they had led the hunt under their father’s watch. Hands came resting against their shoulders patting them or to their braids teasing that they’ve grown. But it was hard for Lo’ak to hear them, to hear anything but his running thoughts.
It was a small slip up, an annoying mishap. And he was frustrated, because it was so insignificant that his father didn’t even care. Yet here he was dwelling on it while younger hunters looked at him as if he had brought in a nightwraith by himself.
Truthfully, Lo’ak knew why he dwelled on it. It was instinct. Years of lectures about being reckless and disobedient flooded his mind. Years of being told by other clan members that he was the son who tripped up and brought nothing but trouble and chaos. Those memories, no matter how hard he tried to live past it, stuck with him like a leech. Resurfacing in moments like this often and when they did it was hard to hear praise. Hard to hear good words that he had done a great job. Gripping his bow, Lo’ak stared blankly at everyone who talked around him. Drowning in his own thoughts.
In the crowd you watched him silently, surrounded by clan members but not mentally there. You saw his still tail, his pinned ears and his distant stare. Your frown gently, heart squeezing in your chest.
"Lo'ak."
It wasn’t a shout, but it was loud enough to carry. To reach him through the dense fog of his thoughts. Blinking, Lo’ak lifted his head golden eyes scanning the sea of blue. Finally, his eyes locked with your figure. Moving through the bodies, gaze focused on him. He straightened, gaze still on you while Neteyam grinned beside him. “Feeling better now?” He said teasing, but Lo’ak ignored him. His tail finally began to sway behind him low brushing his ankle. Giving Neteyam simple and quick well wishes, your hand took Lo’ak larger one leading him away from the crowd of clan members who began skinning the large kill.
Once far enough, out of reach from wandering ears. Your hands reached for him, his face first cradling it gently you turned his face over in your hands softly. Then they slid from his neck to his shoulders, to his arm lifting them up so you could check his sides. Your eyes trailed over his stomach and legs, but the mud made it difficult.
“Are you hurt?” you finally asked, Stilling trying to see through the mud.
Lo’ak watched you. Felt the way your hands moved across his body, searching for any injuries. A small crease between your hairless bows and the soft relief when you found none. That is what he looked for, what he craved to see.
A foolish part of him lived for it. For your eyes to be on him. To see you smile at him and praise him. Though right now he felt he didn’t deserve any praise. Not the clan carelessly thrown ones nor your sincere ones. Tilting his head to catch your eyes, you meet his gaze. Seeing his fascination, his dilemma, and his negative thoughts. Without thinking you brought your arms around his neck bringing him down into a hug, Lo’ak bent down to make up for the height difference. One large arm wrapped around you, his hand resting on your waist and his head in your neck. Lo’ak slowly breathe you in, his breath warm against your neck. You didn’t force him to speak, because you already knew. Instead, you held him a little tighter, grounding him.
“You were good today.” You whispered softly only for him to hear, praising him alone. “You hear me?” you pulled away, he moved from your neck meeting your gaze while your hand cradling his face thumb brushing over the dry mud on his cheek. “You did good.”
Lo’ak stared at you, his ears twitched folding back then lifting again as if he didn’t know what to do with your words. He has heard praise before, loud and careless and some meaningful. But hearing it come from you always felt like you were speaking directly to the part of him that waited for disappointment. He let out a weak laugh, “I missed.”
“You slipped.” You said quickly, leaving no room for his negative thoughts to crawl back. “There’s a difference baby.”
Lo’ak fingers flexed against your waist, ears twitching toward you at the nickname you stole from him. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
Releasing a soft sigh, your thumb brushed oved his cheek again, “I know. So, I will keep telling you until it does.”
Lo’ak looked at you again, and the ache in his chest shifted, feeling more bearable. You stood within his arm, staring up at him tenderly. Giving him what he needs, reassurance and praise. Specifically, your reassurance and praise. Not the clans, not even Jakes even though a part of him felt relief hearing him speak it. It was yours that settled in his heart.
“You do know you don’t have to be perfect for me to cheer for you.” You said voice steady despite the way you face warmth under his lovesick gaze. His tail curled around your calf slowly, shy. Though his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer.
“Even when I look stupid in front of everyone.”
“Especially then,” you gasped offended for him. “Someone has to make sure you don’t start believing your bad thoughts.”
He laughed at that, quiet and rough. He didn’t hold that distance look no longer instead it was boyish. His shoulder dropped, easing and his ears lifted up fully facing you ready to catch any word of breath that came from you. Not the loud chatter of the clan in the distance, just you.
“You are annoying.” He grinned, leaning his forehead against yours.
“And you are muddy.” You shot back matching his grin. “So, let’s go home, away from here. So, you can wash up and I can praise you there.”
Lo’ak moved away an inch meeting you gaze. “Praise me more?” his grin widened, more boyish.
You rolled your eyes, smiling at him. “Yes, praise you more. Theres always more.” Lo’ak gave you that same lovesick look. “Then, can you say it again.”
Your gaze softened no longer teasing. Hand moving down to hold the side of his neck, pulling him down so your foreheads met.
“You did good, Lo’ak.”
Lo’ak closed his eyes, his breath left him slowly. And this time, when the word settled in his heart, he let himself believe them. Patting his back his neck softly, you took his hand leading him away from the clan back home.
pairing: aged up neteyam sully x fem omatikaya reader
s: neteyam is curious about you after realizing there is more to the silent huntress. after offering to help in a small chore it opens more opportunities for him to see more of you.
w.c: 11.3k
pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4
Neteyam thought about you more than he meant to. At first, he blamed it on concern, it felt easy too. You were injured and hid it. You sat beneath the lower roots with blood soaking through your bandage and still tried to make yourself look untouchable, holding up that facade that everyone chose to believe. Anyone with sense would have worried after seeing that.
That’s all it was, that’s what he kept telling himself. Concern.
But concern didn’t explain why his eyes found you across the clearing before he even realized he was looking. Didn’t explain why during patrol reports, his attention slipped from his father’s instructions to where you stood beside your mother making deliveries. It didn’t explain why he noticed the way you always chose the edge of the group rather than the center, or how your ears twitched toward laughter even when you didn’t laugh yourself. It didn’t explain why he watched you soften around children in a way you never allowed yourself to soften around warriors. And it certainly didn’t explain the small unfamiliar pull in his chest whenever you walked away.
Neteyam is focus. It was how he was raised. As the eldest son and the responsible one he was always taught to watch everything. The path ahead, the twitch of an enemy’s figure on a trigger or look of fear in a young hunter’s eyes. So, watching isn’t new. But it was who he was watching that felt new, different even. It felt less like duty and obligation, and more like being caught in something he didn’t know what to name yet.
You hadn’t spoken much to him since the training grounds. At most Neteyam has only gotten a nod, quiet replies whenever they were in the same place at once due to duties. Nothing more. It wasn’t unusual, you were distance with everyone. Always polite but unreachable. But for a moment, at the lower roots, at the training grounds. Neteyam had seen beneath all of that. He had seen the girl beneath the title. The one who was gentle despite the sharpness of her arrow. The one who whispered Eywa prayer with such tenderness and reverence like it cost her life. The one held herself stiff as stone, because she refused to break. It wasn’t your feats, not how precise your aim was, nor your reputation. Not even the stores told of you by the children and older hunters alike.
It was the soft tremble in your fingers he pretended not to see. The quiet grief in your eyes when you looked at your bloody wound. And that softness, always directed at children that you couldn’t mask. All of that, it stayed with him.
“Brother.”
Neteyam blinked, stilling under the voice. Ro’kani stood beside him both arms crossed over his chest as he stared at him. The look on his face a mix of amused and suspicion. Neteyam didn’t like either.
He straightened. “What?”
Ro’kani followed his line of sight across the clearing. You were kneeling beside a young girl near the cooking fires, helping her untangle a bundle of cord she had been trailing around as a toy. The child spoke rapidly and giddy, hands moving as she explained something like it held great importance. Most likely about the cord. You listened with that same unreadable face, but the way your ears angled toward the child was a sign she had all your attention. Neteyam noticed the faint curve at the corner of your mouth as you stared at the child with tenderness. Ro’kani noticed Neteyam noticing.
A slow grin spread across his face. “Oh,” Ro’kani said, drawing the word out. “So that is what this is.” Neteyam’s ears flicked. “What are you talking about?”
“You are staring at my sister.”
“I am not staring.”
Ro’kani hummed, unconvinced. “No? Then what would you call it?”
Neteyam looked away, jaw tightening. “Observing.”
Ro’kani let out a laugh loud, so loud a few people nearby turned at the sound of it. Neteyam shot him a warning glare, but Ro’kani simply shook his head grinning. “Observing,” he repeated, clearly enjoying himself. “Yeah, alright. The future Olo’eyktan must observe the clan very carefully. Especially my little sister.”
Neteyam looked at Ro'kani. “You are impossible.”
“And you are obvious.”
Neteyam went quiet. Rokani teasing had stopped, mostly. Though he still watched Neteyam with the same amusement and growing suspicion. His gaze returned to you, watching as the child’s cord had finally been untangled. She beamed up at you, like you had hung the stars. You gave a small nod, gently patting the childs hand guiding her along to play once again. You had risen to your feet, posture straightening the moment an older hunter passed by. The softness that had been there merely seconds ago long gone. Like it was never there to begin with. Your face returned to the same unreadable mask.
“She looks like she is made of stone,” Neteyam murmured to himself. Ro’kani went silent, eyes lingering on you as he shook his head in response. “No.” he said softly, memories of your teary eyes whenever you shot an animal wrong which caused more pain for them. “She is made of glass.” That made Neteyam turn toward him. Ro’kani teasing grin had gone away, his gaze held protectiveness molded over the years of watching his little sister grow to the person she was today. “She just keeps herself polished, so no one sees the cracks.” He said.
Across the clearing, you picked up your bow and walked away from the fires, disappearing into the forest, walking the path to your training spot. Neteyam watched you go, gaze lingering until it couldn’t no longer.
Neteyam should have been using the short break to breathe. For once, the morning had loosened its grip on him. There were no immediate patrols dragging him to the forest line, no urgent reports waiting at the war table, no younger warriors needing training. He had been given a small silver of time for himself, barely enough to be called free. But enough that his shoulders could rest more than they had the entire day. He told himself he would spend it wisely. Perhaps he would eat something as he had skipped breakfast or simply sit somewhere quiet where no one could bother him, nor seek him out.
Deciding on the latter, he walked a path that would lead away from hometree. Then he heard Ro’kani’s voice.
“I told her I would stop by,” Ro’kani was talking to another hunter as he adjusted the strap across his chest. “My father is away, and my mother has a few things around the home that need mending. Nothing difficult. A loose support here, a stubborn binding there. If I don’t go, she will climb up and try to fix it herself. Last time she did that she hurt herself.”
Neteyam paused. He should’ve kept walking. Should’ve sought time alone, Eywa knew his mind could finally use some peace and quiet. But he didn’t. Instead, his feet turned before his mind could find more excuses his heart would simply ignore.
“I can help,” Neteyam said. Ro’kani turned around, surprised Neteyam was even standing here more surprised her offered to help.
“You can help?”
“Yes.”
Ro’kani’s eyes narrowed with the same suspicion from before. A short chuckle left him, “You do know you are expected at the eastern watch in less than half an hour, right?”
“I have time.”
“You have Neteyam time,” Ro’kani corrected, already walking the path to his family hut. “Which means you will convince yourself there is enough until there is not.”
Neteyam ignored the jab that was very much true and fell into step beside him. Ro’kani didn’t question him further, though the side glance he gave was far too knowing. Neteyam kept his face calm, his pace even, as if this was nothing more than one warrior offering help to another.
It was only when they finally reached Ro’kani’s family hut that Neteyam realized he should’ve better prepared himself. Because you were here. Standing there near the entrance with two large woven baskets balance in your arms. Each full of cloths meant to be washed.
His ears lifted towards you before he could stop them. Neteyam should’ve expected this. This is your family hut, if Ro’kani made time to help around, so would you. So, his surprise is unwarranted.
Looking up, your eyes locked with his briefly. You gave a polite nod. “Neteyam.”
“Y/n,” he returned, a little too quickly.
Ro’kani’s mother appeared behind you, wiping her hands against her thighs. “Good, you came. The binding above the sleeping mat has loosened again, and the rack by the side wall will not sit straight.”
“We will fix it,” Ro’kani promised, already moving inside.
You adjusted the baskets in your grip. Neteyam noticed the flex of your fingers, the pressure of woven handles digging against your side. He stopped himself from stepping forward. He wanted to take one from you, or both. Say it was nothing. He wanted to be useful, in a way that didn’t require any explanation. But he had only just arrived. Following after you now would be obvious. Too obvious. Worse, Ro’kani would have seen it, and Neteyam had no desire to give him more ammunition than he already had.
So, he stayed where he was. Watching you walk the path to the stream carefully. Baskets heavy against your hips, braids swaying light against your back with every step. He stared until the trees swallowed you from his sight.
“Yo,” Ro’kani’s voice called from inside. Neteyam blinked, looking away at once. He saw Ro’kani there, his head poked out of the entrance. A teasing smirk at his mouth, “The mending is needed in here brother. Not out there.” Neteyam cleared his throat, stepping inside without answering.
Neteyam focused on the work needed. He tightened the loosened bindings above the sleeping mat while Ro’kani fixed the crooked rack. Simple work, and it was easily done by the two of them. Ro’kani voice filled the home, easy and welcoming. But more often than not Neteyam attention continued to drift to the entrance. Ro’kani noticed, of course.
“You are very interested in whether Y/n returns with clean cloth,” Ro’kani said lightly. Neteyam gripped the strip of binding tight, too tight. He wished Ro’kani didn’t notice so much. “I am making sure there is nothing else to be mending over here.” Ro’kani raised his hairless brow high, eyes scanning his family home. He laughed under his breath. “The mats are nowhere near the entrance.”
Neteyam chose not to respond, tail flicking low beside his ankle. His reaction seemed to please Ro’kani more. A few moments later, Ro’kani’s mother stepped back into the home, her attention trained on the path you had gone. “Ro’kani, go fetch your sister for me. I forgot to tell her the blue wrap needs to be washed separately. The dye still bleeds.” Ro’kani slowly began to raise, dusting his hands off.
“I can go,” Neteyam offered, already standing. Already edging to the entrance. Their eyes fell on him, room falling silent for only a moment. Then Ro’kani mother smiled, warm and unsuspecting. “If you don’t mind Neteyam.” He shook his head. “Not at all.”
Ro’kani returned to his spot on the floor, leaning back on his hands, his grin slow and wicked. “Remember, you have somewhere to be soon.” Neteyam looked at him, his expression calm despite the heat threatening to rise on his face. “I will be quick.” Ro’kani hummed, far too entertained. “Mm. Very quick, sure.” He dragged out. But Neteyam had gone before he could finish.
Neteyam followed the path toward the stream, telling himself he was only carrying a message from your mother. A simple task. Nothing more. But his feet carried him faster than they needed.
He heard the stream before seeing it. The soft sound was steady and low, only disturbed by the small splashes of cloth being washed. Then Neteyam saw you. You were kneeling at the bank, both baskets beside you. Most of the cloths had already been washed. Wringing out the last pieces before smoothing them flat. For a moment, Neteyam just stood there. It felt different seeing you like this, away from wandering eyes, and people who expected the silent huntress. Here with the cool water running over your fingers, the sunlight shifting through your beads, you looked quieter. Less guarded.
Your ears twitched before you turned.
“Neteyam,” you said, voice calm. Though your eyes flicked behind him as if expecting Ro’kani to appear too.
“Your mother sent me,” he said, stepping closer but stopping at a respectful distance from you. “She said the blue wrap needs to be washed separate. The dye still bleeds.”
You glanced down at the folded pile beside you. Without a word, you reached for the blue cloth resting near the top and moved it into the second basket, away from the rest. “Thank you,” you replied.
That should have been all. He had delivered the message. He had done what he said he would do. He should have turned back toward your family home, toward Ro’kani’s knowing grin, toward the duty waiting for him at the eastern watch. Instead, Neteyam remained where he was. You dipped another cloth into the stream, watching him from the corner of your eye. “Was there something else?”
“I can help,” he offered.
Your hands stilled beneath the water. You looked at the nearly empty basket beside you, then back to him.
“I am almost finished.”
“Then I can help with what is left.”
“There is no need.” Your tone wasn’t cold, only final. The same voice you used with young hunters when an instruction wasn’t meant to be argued with. The same voice you also used with Ro’kani whenever he pestered you. “You have your own duties.”
Neteyam’s mouth twitched almost a frown before stopping it. “So, everyone keeps reminding me.”
You gave him a brief look, uncertain on whether that was meant as a complaint or humor. Neteyam only shifted his weight, his hands clasped behind his back. As if standing here at the stream while you finished washing the cloth is a perfect use of his already limited time. As if this was where he wanted to be. You didn’t speak on it, instead returned to your work. Neteyam watched, scanning his surroundings, the stones, the trees, the small fish darting through the stream. Then it would return to you whenever he thought you wouldn’t notice.
You noticed every time. When the last cloth was wrung dry enough to carry, you rose and began folding everything into the baskets. Neteyam stepped forward at once.
“I will carry them.”
“No.”
The answer came quickly, before he could even finish asking. You reached for both handles, intent on lifting them yourself. Neteyam didn’t move to take them from you. He only stayed close, hands at his sides, waiting.
That irritated you only a little. You lifted one basket, then the other, feeling the weight pull at your arms. It was not unbearable; you’ve carried heavier things than this. Weapons, supplies, and expectations. Wet cloth was nothing compared to any of that. Yet, Neteyam still didn’t leave.
Finally, you met his gaze. And his eyes caught you off guard. There was no teasing, no challenge, no belief that you were weak and he was stronger. No, it was just a want to help. A need to be useful for you. Like helping you with this small chore would ease a restless feeling inside him. Irritation vanishing, your masked slipped. Only a little. Ears twitching soft and off guard, you looked away. Then without a word or another glance you held one basket for him to take. Only one. And Neteyam eyes perked up, accepting the basket carefully. “Thank you,” he said.
You gave him a look, confused. “Are you thanking me for letting you carry my basket?”
His small smile came before he could hide it. “Yes.”
You stared at him for a second, then turned toward the path before he could see the way your expression threatened to soften. Neteyam fell into step beside you, holding the basket easily in one arm. He tried not to smile too much, but failed, miserably.
The walk back to your family home was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Neteyam kept pace beside you, careful not to walk too close and careful not to fall behind. When you reached home, your mother stood at the entrance, waiting for the two of you. Her eyes landed on Neteyam first then fell to the basket in his hand. A pleased smile warmed her face.
“Ah, Neteyam,” she said. “You have helped more than we asked. Stay for lunch. It is the least I can offer as thanks.”
Neteyam straightened. “I would be honored to—”
“Neteyam!”
A young warrior appeared on the path, slightly breathless, eyes landing on him. “Your father is asking for you at the eastern watch. Now.” Neteyam shoulders dropped, and for a small selfish moment he wanted to pretend he didn’t hear. To tell the young warrior that another would have to take his stead. But this was his duty alone, the familiar weight returned to his shoulders. Exhaling slowly through his nose, his eyes returned to your mother. “Another time, if the offer still stands,” Neteyam said.
Your mother smiled kindly. “It does.”
His gaze flicked to you before he could stop it. You were setting your basket down, face turned slightly away, but your ears had shifted toward him. Listening. That was enough to make his chest tighten. Neteyam lowered his head respectfully to your mother resting the basket near the entrance. “Thank you. For the invitation, and for allowing me to help.” Then he left with the waiting warrior. He didn’t look back until he reached the turn in the path. When he did, you were looking down at the basket’s hands busy with the folded cloth. But your ears were turned his way. Neteyam smiled at himself, the warrior beside him stood confused. Excusing his behavior, he continued down the path.
Your mother waited until Neteyam’s footsteps faded before she spoke. “He is kind,” she said. You kept your hands busy with the folded cloth, smoothing damp corners that didn’t need smoothing. “He was delivering your message.”
“Mm.”
You didn’t look up, but you could hear the smile in her voice. “And carrying one of my baskets too, apparently.”
Your fingers tightened around the cloth. “It was heavy.” You lied.
“Both were heavy.”
You finally glanced at her. Your mother’s expression was gentle, but far too knowing. She sat near the entrance with the herbs spread across a flat weaving mat, her hands moving slowly through the leaves as though she had all the time in the world to wait you out. You looked away first.
“He offered,” you said. “I allowed one.”
Your mother hummed softly. “You allowed him to help.”
There it was. What she actually meant, what was so shocking to see. Not the basket. Not the cloth. Not the short walk home through the trees. The help.
You didn’t like needing it. You liked accepting it even less. There were too many hands in your life that tried to help by taking, by deciding, by pushing you toward paths you hadn’t chosen. Help often felt like a hand around your wrist, forcing you somewhere you didn’t want to go. But Neteyam didn’t do that.
He waited. Annoyingly and patiently. With those open hands and steady eyes, making no move to take what you refused to give. He didn’t argue when you said no. Didn’t look at you like you were fragile. No, he only looked at you as if carrying one basket would matter to him because it mattered to you. It was that fact that unsettled you. Made you feel confused and caught off guard. You hated it. Your mother watched your face, and you knew she saw too much. As your mother she always had an easy read on you. Ro’kani did it with jokes and protectiveness, your mother did it in silence.
“He doesn’t look at you like the others do,” she said as if it was natural. You stilled, eyes turning to your mother. “Everyone sees your bow first, your skill,” she continued. “They see what your father trained you to be.”
You grabbed another cloth, folding it too sharply, your mother noticed. “He barely knows me.”
“Maybe.” Your mother’s voice softened. “But he is looking.”
A strange feeling settled in your chest. Unknown. You wished she hadn’t said it like that. Because looking was dangerous. Looking meant noticing and that meant seeing things you had buried carefully. And with Neteyam it felt worse, because he is always noticing. And that came with learning.
Your mother set a small bundle of herbs aside, then reached for your wrist gently. Not pulling, or forceful. A simple touch, warm and grounding. “It’s not weakness, to let someone carry one basket.” she murmured. Looking down at her hand around your wrist, you exhaled slowly, masking loosening. Your ears lowered, then twitched down the path Neteyam had walked once again. Noticing your mother gave a soft smile, but this time didn’t tease you about it.
Instead, she released your wrist and returned to sorting herbs. “Another time, then.”
You frowned. “What?”
“Lunch,” she said simply. “He said another time.”
You stared at the folded cloth in your hands. “If he comes, it would be rude to turn him away.” You said lowly. Your mother smiled and chuckled softly. “Of course. Only because it would be rude.”
A few days passed and Neteyam hadn’t forgotten the invitation from your mother. If anything, the promise of another time had lingered in the back of his mind longer than he wanted to admit. It sat there during patrols, during briefings, and during meals with his family where Tuk tried to steal from his plate. Another time. Two simple words, and yet they followed him teasingly out of reach.
For you, the days moved as they always did. Duty first, then training after. That morning, your mother sent you to the healer’s circle with gathered herbs bundled carefully in woven bands. The healers accepted the bundles with grateful nods. When the last bundle was placed beside the healer’s supplies, you turned toward the path that led to your training spot. You had already missed one morning session. It felt wrong, your fingers itched for the quiet ache that proved you had done enough. Trained enough. Training didn’t bring you peace, but assurance. Giving your thoughts somewhere to go.
“Y/n!”
You stopped before your foot could continue down the path. Turning, you saw Nìraya, one of your few friends and mother newly mated a year ago. She came hurrying down the path worry plain across her face. Your grip tightened around you bow as you turned to her fully. Your hand outstretched in worry. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing dangerous,” she said quickly, hand covering your outstretched one in assurance. “No one is hurt. I only need help.” Your shoulders relaxed a fraction, but your face remained still, confused even. “Help with what?”
Nìraya exhaled, glancing over her shoulder toward the lower clearing where the youngest children were usually gathered while their parents worked. “The little ones. There are too many today. And two of the older girls who were meant to help me watch them were called for gathering. Apparently extra hands were needed. I thought I could manage, but Talu has decided he is part thanator, Mìkan keeps trying to climb everything, and the twins have been arguing over the same wooden toy for half the morning.”
You blinked once, lips already moving to decline. Nìraya’s expression turned pleading. “Please. Just for a little while. They listen to you.”
“Children listen to anyone who sound serious.”
“No,” Nìraya said, shaking her head. “They listen to you because you don’t speak to them like they are foolish.”
Exhaling slowly, you looked past her toward the clearing, hearing the distance rise of small excited and frustrated voices. Your fingers tightened around your bow. You were supposed to be training, honing your skills. Instead, you sighed softly, “Only for a little, until they are under control.” Relief brightened Nìraya’s face quickly. “Thank you. Truly, you are saving me from stress.”
“Don’t thank me yet. If Talu is truly part thanator, we may need more people.”
Nìraya laughed, the sound easing some of the worry from her shoulders. The lower children’s clearing was already chaos when you arrived. Small bodies darted between woven mats and low roots. Two children tugged at opposite ends of a wooden ikran toy, both wearing identical scowls. Another child had climbed halfway up a slanted root and was declaring herself queen of the branch in a voice loud enough for half the clan to hear. And in the center of it all, a little boy crouched on all fours, baring his tiny fangs at anyone who came close.
Talu, clearly.
Nìraya pressed her fingers to her brow. “I was gone for one moment.” Fighting the smile that threatened to come to your face, your handed Niraya your bow. “Hold this please.” She took it without question, watching as you stepped forward. You didn’t raise your voice. Didn’t clap your hands or bark orders the way some adults did when children didn’t listen. You simply moved into the middle of the clearing and lowered yourself into a crouch, eyes level with the little boy pretending to be a predator.
“Talu.”
The boy froze mid-growl.
“Thanator’s don’t bare their teeth before they strike. They wait. They watch. They know the forest better than their own breath. If you are going to be one, be a good one.” You said calmly. Talu blinked up at you, caught between embarrassment and wonder. You pointed toward the shade beneath a low root. “Go there and watch the clearing. If anyone drops a toy or climbs too high, you tell me. That is your patrol.”
His ears shot up. “I have a patrol?”
“A very important one.” You spoke earnestly.
Face full of pride, Talu scrambled to the root at once, dropping into a dramatic crouch with his eyes narrowed at the other children.
Nìraya stared. “How did you do that?”
“He wanted to be useful,” you replied, already turning toward the arguing twins. “So, I gave him something useful to do.”
The ikran toy was next. You knelt before the twins, letting them both talk over each other until their words tangled together into chaos. When they finally ran out of breath, you held out your hand.
“The toy cannot belong to both of you at the same time if you are pulling it apart,” you said.
One twin sniffed. “She had it longer.”
“Because he dropped it first,” the other argued.
You studied them both, serious enough that they quieted under your gaze. “Then we make a trade. One of you holds the toy, while the other chooses the next game. When the game changes, so does the holder of the toy. Fair?” The twins considered the plan with a serious expression; faces you’ve seen in war counsel. Then they nodded.
By the time you coaxed Mìkan down from the root by asking whether she could teach the smaller children how to climb safely, the clearing had transformed. Not silent, but steady. Laughter replaced shrieking. Running became organized games. Arguments became negotiations with very dramatic hand gestures.
Nìraya watched you with open gratitude. “You are wasted with a bow.” Your hands stilled around a fallen bead you had picked up from the dirt. Realizing what she had said, Nìraya turned to you, “I only meant-
“I know what you mean,” you said softly. Not harmed by the words. But you understood them. Before your mind could wander to the many what ifs. A tiny hand tugged at your wrist. Looking down, your eyes meet with one of the youngest girls staring up at you. Her lower lip trembled slightly as her small hands clutched a broken woven doll. The arm hung loose by a single thread. “Can you fix her?” she whispered. You took the doll with care, turning it over in your palm inspecting it. “Yes.”
The child’s eyes widened. “You know how?”
“My mother taught me. I will teach you.”
Walking to a nearby tree, you sat beneath the shade with the child pressed close to your side, guiding her fingers through the careful knotting of thread. Your voice stayed low and patient, each instruction quiet enough that the child had to lean in to listen.
That was where Neteyam found you. He had been sent to find Nìraya’s mate for a patrol matter and had only meant to stop by briefly. Instead, his steps slowed at the sound of your voice. Not the voice you used in training. Not the one sharpened by duty. This one was softer, almost hidden beneath the noise of the children, but he still caught it. Neteyam stopped near the edge of the clearing, half hidden by the hanging leaves.
You didn’t notice him. Your attention fully on the child beside you, on the doll in your lap, on the tiny fingers fumbling through the thread. When the knot slipped loose, the little girl’s face crumpled, frustrated.
“I ruined it.”
You shook your head once. “No. A loose knot only means we try again.”
“But I did it wrong.”
“Wrong is not useless,” you said. “Wrong teaches you a lesson. Now, your hands know where to go next.”
The child stared at you, then slowly tried again. The doll’s arm was finally secured after a few careful attempts. The little girl beamed as if you had healed something living. Without warning, she leaned into your side, wrapping both arms around your waist in a quick fierce hug. You froze under the display of gratitude for only a heartbeat. Then your hand lifted slowly and rested against the child’s back. Your ears twitched low against your hair, warm and startled. As Neteyam watched, that same quiet pull returned, something he still had no name for. Nìraya spotted him at the edge of the clearing and brightened.
“Neteyam! Good, you are here.”
Your head turned instantly, gaze locking with his. The softness had vanished quickly as usual. Your spine straightened to the same stiff posture you wore. And your hand slipped away from the child’s back. The silent huntress mask had returned. Neteyam pretended not to notice. Something had begun to understand. Pretending not to see was the kindest way to prove he did.
“Nìraya,” he greeted, stepping into the clearing. His gaze moved to you only briefly as you approached the child beside you, “Y/n.”
You nodded once. “Neteyam.”
The child at your side lifted the repaired doll proudly. “Y/n fixed her.”
Neteyam looked at the doll with appropriate seriousness. “Then she must be a very skilled healer.”
The girl nodded fiercely. “The best.”
Your ears flicked once.
Neteyam caught it and, out of the kindness of his heart, didn’t smile. Not where you could see at least. Nìraya glanced between the two of you, before remembering why she called him over. “Neteyam, I think my mate went toward the western roots. But if you have a moment, could you help lift the spare water skins and move them? The children keep tripping over them.”
“Of course,” he said.
He moved to gather the water skins while you urged the girl to go play, but to be careful with the doll. The girl ran off to show the others, and for one brief second you were left standing beside Neteyam.
“You are good with them,” he said quietly.
You looked ahead, watching Talu continue his very serious patrol beneath the root. “They are easy to understand.”
“Are they?”
“Yes.” Your gaze softened without notice. “They say what they want. They cry when they are hurt. They ask for help when something breaks.” Neteyam turned his head slightly, but he didn’t look at you directly. “That sounds brave, and honest.”
You nodded softly. Before either of you could say more, Nìraya called for your help again, and the moment slipped away as quickly as it had come.
Neteyam stayed only long enough to move the water skins as requested. Then as he began to leave the clearing for the western roots, his eyes found you once again. You were crouched beside Mìkan, showing her how to tie a safer knot around a climbing vine. There on your lips was the soft smile you held for the children. Smiling to himself, he carried that image with him all the way to the debrief.
By late afternoon, Neteyam stood among a small circle of warriors near the eastern watch. Jake was at the center, one hand resting on his rifle as he listened to reports from the patrols. The talk was brief. Fresh tracks near the outer ridge. A broken sensor left behind by the sky people. No movement close enough to threaten Hometree, but enough to keep everyone alert. Neteyam answered when spoken to, giving his observations clearly, and kept his posture straight under his father’s watchful eye. But when the meeting ended and the other warriors began to scatter, he didn’t immediately leave. Instead, he stood shifting his weight on the balls of his feet. A motion Jake hasn’t seen since he was young.
“Something on your mind?” his father asked, glancing over while securing the strap that held his rifle. Neteyam hesitated for only a moment. “I wanted to ask a favor.”
Jake’s brows lifted slightly. “From me?”
“Yes, sir.” Neteyam kept his voice even, though his tail betrayed him with one restless flick. Jake noticed. “There is no urgent patrol for me tonight, and I have finished the eastern report.” He paused, forcing himself still. “I was invited to share a meal with Ro’kani’s family after helping them earlier this week. I had to leave before accepting.”
Jake stared at him for a long second. Then the corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re asking me permission to go to dinner?” Neteyam’s ears flushed purple. “I am asking not to be called away from it unless it is necessary.”
Jake’s expression shifted into something far too knowing. “Uh-huh.”
“It is only respectful,” Neteyam added quickly. “Her mother invited me. I said another time.”
“Her mother,” Jake repeated eyebrows raised high. Head tilting to the side, teasing. Neteyam ears twitched. “Ro’kani’s family.”
Jake hummed, looking over his eldest son, observing him. Then he shook his head, amused. “You finished your work?”
“Yes.”
“You’re still close enough if I need you?”
“Always.”
Jake nodded once. “Then go. And Neteyam?”
Neteyam paused.
His father’s teasing softened into warning, gentle but clear. “Don’t make promises with your eyes if you’re not ready to keep them.”
Neteyam swallowed, surprised by how directly the words struck him.
Then he nodded. “I know.”
Jake studied him for a moment longer before clapping him once on the shoulder. “Good. Now get out of here before your mother finds out I let you skip helping with supper.” Neteyam huffed a quiet laugh and left before his father could change his mind.
The sun had lowered by the time Neteyam reached your family hut. The smell of roasted roots, fresh herbs, and something sweet cooking over the small fire inside danced through the air. Neteyam stopped just outside, he was suddenly very aware of his posture, his hands, the way his braids were arranged and rested against his shoulders. Wringing his hands out, he took deep breaths. He has faced enemy fire with steadier nerves than this. After gathering himself as best he could, before he could decide whether to call out, your father appeared at the entrance.
The older warrior’s face brightened. “Neteyam.”
Neteyam dipped his head respectfully. “I see you.”
“I see you,” your father returned warmly, though confusion followed quickly after. He stepped aside, glancing past Neteyam as if expecting another warrior. “Were we meant to meet? Has Jake sent word?”
Neteyam opened his mouth, but your mother’s voice came from inside before he could answer.
“He is here for the meal.”
Your father turned, still confused. “A meal?”
Your mother appeared beside him, wiping her hands on a cloth, her expression far too pleased with herself. “The lunch I promised him. Since duty stole him away, it is dinner now.” Your father looked from his mate to Neteyam, then back again. Slowly, understanding settled across his face.
“Ah.”
Neteyam stood very still. Your mother smiled at him. “Come in before you decide to run.”
“I won’t.” Neteyam said, stepping inside.
Your father gave a low laugh. “Good. I would have had questions.”
Neteyam was guided to sit at the low family table while your father settled across from him. It should have been simple conversation, and in a way, it was. Your father asked about the eastern watch, the patrol routes, Jake’s latest concerns, and whether the younger hunters were improving under Neteyam’s instruction. Neteyam answered respectfully, grateful for something familiar to hold onto. Warrior talk. Duty talk. Things he could speak about with ease like breathing.
Still, every few minutes, his eyes shifted toward the entrance. Every time, they had your mother noticed, a knowing smile tugged at her lips. She didn’t comment on Neteyam interest on their entrance. Moving around the table she set the bowls down, setting the table. Moments later, voices carried from outside catching Neteyam attention, he recognized both.
“You carried the lighter basket on purpose,” Ro’kani accused.
“I didn’t,” you replied.
“Yours has herbs. Mine has fruit and roots. It is heavier.”
“Then you should be grateful for the strength father trained into you.”
Ro’kani scoffed. “You sound like him when you say that.”
“Then perhaps listen.”
The flap of the entrance shifted, and you stepped inside with a basket of herbs balanced against your hip. Ro’kani followed behind you with a larger basket filled with fruits, roots, and folded leaves for the meal. Then you both stopped. Neteyam sat at your family table across from your father, straight backed and respectful, with a cup of fresh water in his hand.
For a moment no one moved. Then Ro’kani gave a welcoming smile to Neteyam. His eyes slowly shifted to you. But your face didn’t change, though your ears betrayed you as they lifted slightly before pressing back against your hair.
Neteyam rose at once. “Y/n. Ro’kani.”
“Neteyam.” Ro’kani greeted approaching Neteyam and gave a welcoming pat on his shoulder before letting his hand rest there. “What brings you by?”
“Dinner.” Your mother answered once again. While Ro’kani removed his hand confused. “I thought it was for lunch?”
“It was. Now it is dinner.”
Your father cleared his throat, though the amusement in his eyes was impossible to miss. “Set the baskets down, and both of you stop staring like frightened yerik.”
“I am not frightened,” you said.
Ro’kani grinned looking at Neteyam. “Neither am I. Just surprised.”
Neteyam lowered his gaze to hide the small smile threatening his own mouth. Dinner began with far more watching than eating. Your mother moved around the large space with practiced ease, passing bowls into waiting hands and nudging Ro’kani aside with her hip when he tried to steal a piece of roasted root before everyone was seated. Your father remained in his spot, eyes shifting between you and Neteyam waiting to see whatever he had missed. Ro’kani sat across from Neteyam, grin small and teasing. Waiting for a moment for his prey to run so he could pounce. You, unfortunately, were seated beside Neteyam. Thanks to your mother, not so subtle glare when you tried to sit beside Ro’kani.
You didn’t sit too close. Not enough for your shoulder to touch. But enough that you are aware of his proximity whenever he shifted, enough that you could feel the warmth of him. Enough that your movements were far too careful whenever you moved. Ro’kani noticed, of course he did. “Careful, Y/n,” Ro’kani said, reaching for the same roasted root. “If you sit any straighter, Neteyam may think you are preparing for battle instead of dinner.”
You didn’t look at him, tail swishing once against the floor. “If you speak too much, I may.”
Your father chuckled into his cup while your mother clicked her tongue, though the smile she tried to hide made the scolding pointless. Neteyam kept his attention on his bowl, as if giving the food an inspection. To give himself a small distraction for the attention that rested on him.
It didn’t help.
He could feel Ro’kani watching him from across the table, could feel your mother’s pleased amusement, could feel your father’s assessing gaze moving between him and you with quiet patience.
“So,” your father said at last, tearing a piece of roasted root with his fingers, “my mate tells me you helped repair the loosened binding.”
Neteyam lifted his head. “Yes. It was nothing difficult.”
“And carried baskets,” your mother added lightly.
Your spoon paused halfway to your mouth, eyes flickering over to your mother in warning. Though, she didn’t meet your gaze. Ro’kani grin widened. “Ah, yes. The baskets. A heroic task from Neteyam.”
“Ro’kani,” your mother warned, though her voice held no true threat as she had just done the same as him.
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I am honoring Neteyam’s humble acts.”
Neteyam took a slow drink of water to hide the way his mouth threatened to curve. “It was a nothing,” he said evenly. “One basket was especially stubborn.”
Your ears flicked. Ro’kani first came to his mouth, in attempt to hide his ever growing grin. “Stubborn. Did you hear that, sister? Even your baskets take after you.” You set your spoon down carefully. “If you are finished speaking nonsense, eat before mother decides your mouth is too busy for food.”
Your father laughed openly this time. “She has your tongue when she wants it.”
Your mother gave him a pointed look. “She has mine. Yours only makes trouble.”
Ro’kani lifted both hands. “I am being spoken of here?”
Neteyam despite himself smiled. The easy warmth around the table settled something in his chest. He had known Ro’kani for years, had trained and hunted beside him, and had heard him boast about his family more times than he could count. But seeing all of you like this was different. Here, Ro’kani’s teasing was softer, and he didn’t hold that protectiveness here. Your father’s usual sternness broke into laughter easily. And your mother was the same with her quiet watchfulness, holding it all together.
And you, right beside him with your spine straight and your expression controlled, looked less untouchable beneath their affection. Not soft but loved. Neteyam has realized family will do that to you.
“Neteyam,” your father said, pulling Neteyam eyes from you, and himself from his thoughts. He hoped he wasn’t staring.
“Sir?”
“You have been training the younger hunters with my daughter, yes?”
Neteyam felt you go still beside him.
“A few times,” he answered. “She teaches them well.”
Your father’s gaze moved to you, prideful. “She has always been precise.”
“More than precise,” Neteyam said before he could stop himself. The table went quiet. And Neteyam had realized too late what he had said as every pair of eyes fell on him, including yours. He cleared his throat but didn’t take the words back. “She teaches them to understand why they hold the bow. Not only how. She reminds them that skill without care becomes cruelty.”
For once, Ro’kani didn’t tease. Chewing at his food he nodded in agreement. Your mother held an all knowing expression. While your father studied Neteyam for a long moment, face unreadable before he nodded once, slow and approving. “That is a good thing to notice.”
Neteyam dipped his head, suddenly wishing the floor would open enough for him to disappear into it. “It’s hard not to notice.”
Ro’kani hummed lowly to himself. “Hard not to notice,” he repeated under his breath.
You reached beneath the table and kicked his ankle. Ro’kani yelped at the assault. Your mother didn’t look at either of you as she ate. “Children.”
“She hit me,” Ro’kani protested, rubbing his ankle.
“With precision,” your father said tilting his cup of water in the air.
Neteyam choked on his water. You turned to him instantly, concern breaking your posture and composure before you could notice. “Are you alright?” Neteyam coughed once more, face warm, and pride wounded. “Yes. I am fine.” He swallowed voice muted. Unbeknownst to you, your hand had lifted slightly toward him. Once you had noticed, Neteyam also did. Faster than you and liked, you returned your hand to your lap.
Everyone saw. But no one said anything. Which to you felt worse.
Neteyam forced himself to breathe evenly, ignoring the way his heart jumped with delight upon seeing your concern for him. While you returned to your meal wishing you could disappear into it. Ro’kani gave you pity, for only a few moments.
“So, Neteyam.” Ro’kani leaned against the table eyes on his oldest friend.
Neteyam unconsciously braced himself. “Yes?”
“How long did you spend asking your father for permission to come here?”
Neteyam’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you I asked him?”
Ro’kani’s grin turned wicked. “No one. But now I know you did.”
Your father coughed into his hand to hide a laugh. Your mother shook her head. “Ro’kani, leave him be.”
“I am simply making conversation. Can I not talk to my friend?”
“You are making trouble,” you said gaze stern.
Ro’kani’s eyes slid to you. “For Neteyam, not you. You jump to defend him so fast.”
Your face went very still. Neteyam noticed, so he stepped in before Ro’kani could tease any more. “I asked my father because your mother offered me a meal, and I didn’t want duty to interrupt her kindness twice.”
The answer was respectful, honest and safe. And still, his gaze flicked to you for the briefest moment. As if to gauge your reaction, your approval of his response. He hoped no one would notice, but unfortunately this family noticed everything. So, he knew that was wishful thinking.
You stared very hard at your bowl. And Neteyam decided very wisely to do the same. But it did nothing to settle his mind. If anything, it made him more aware of the small space between your arm and his, of the way your family moved around you as if they knew where you had kept everything buried. Neteyam felt foreign to it still. He had been raised on reading people. Told that survival depended on noticing what everyone else missed. He had been good at it, good enough for his father's approval. Yet, as he saw the way your family behaved around you doing what he felt he was so good at so easily. He felt as if it was a new language. And in a way, you are.
Neteyam realized Ro’kani teasing came from years of knowing you would rather be irritated than openly exposed. Your mother watched you silently because she would always see that little girl who held so much gentleness like it was secret never meant to see the light. And your father, a known warrior who praised your precision so often that pride expectation had tangled together so tightly that even he seemed unsure where one ended and the other began.
And in all of it, you were in the middle. Accepting the different forms of love just as you accepted help.
Neteyam wondered how long you had lived that way. Letting people close enough to be polite, never close enough to touch what hurt, to even get a glimpse of it. He wondered if anyone had ever asked what you wanted before telling you what you were good at. The thought made something protective rise in him so quickly that his fingers tightened around his bowl to suppress it.
Not the kind of protection that would stand in front of you with a drawn bow. He knew better than that. You didn’t need him to make you look fragile. You would hate him for it, and he would deserve it. No, this was different. He wanted to protect the parts of you that slipped out by accident. The quick concern when he choked. The softened attention you gave children. The quiet way you looked away when praised for something gentler than skill. He wanted to stand near enough that if the world asked too much of you, you wouldn’t have to carry all of it alone.
The realization unsettled him. Because wanting to help is one thing. But wanting to be allowed to matter, to be close without reason. That was another.
Beside him, you shifted slightly. The movement was careful, yet your knee still brushed against his for a brief moment under the table. It was nothing. Still the contact brought Neteyam from his thoughts, his breath catching before he could stop it. He didn’t move closer; he knew better than to do that. But he didn’t move away either. He simply sat there, shoulders more relaxed than they have ever been today. Forcing himself to remain focused on his meal. He pretended the accidental touch didn’t send his heart into hyperdrive.
Across the table, Ro’kani’s eyes narrowed. Years of friendship would make his tales noticeable. In that moment Neteyam wished he had been less readable.
By the time dinner ended, the warmth in the hut had settled into something quieter. Bowls were empty and the cooking fire burned low. Your mother and you gathered the dishes together. Neteyam rose to help, but your mother waved him back down giving a look that left no room for argument. He now knew where you got the look from.
“You already helped enough,” she said. “Sit before you make me feel as if I invited you here to work.”
Neteyam lowered himself back to the table, though his hands stayed restless on his knees. Sitting idle in another family’s home felt strange, he is used to helping. Then Ro’kani stretched his arms above his head releasing a satisfied groan. “We should head back before it gets too late.”
Your father looked up from where he was tying off a bundle of spare cord. “Back to your hut, or back to trouble?”
“Those are often the same path,” your mother said without looking over.
Ro’kani placed a hand over his chest, offended. “I am your son.”
“That is why I know,” she replied smoothly.
Your father laughed under his breath and rose to his feet. You gathered the small basket your mother had packed with extra fruit and herbs, already knowing she wouldn’t let either you or Ro’kani leave empty-handed.
“Sa’nok,” you said quietly, “we have enough.”
“You have enough when I say you have enough.” Your mother tucked another wrapped portion into the basket before setting it firmly in your hands. “You and your brother both forget to eat properly when you are busy.”
Ro’kani opened his mouth.
Your mother pointed at him without turning. “Don’t argue with me.”
He closed his mouth.
Neteyam watched the exchange with quiet amusement, the warmth of it settling in his chest. He was reminded of his own mother, though her scolding’s were far more ruthless due to Neteyam skipping most of his meals. Lost in thought, Neteyam stilled when a basket was pressed firmly against his chest for him to take. Inside of it wrapped portions of food, extra roots, herbs and fruit. He held it instinctively.
“I can’t-
“You won’t argue with me either.” She pointed. “Neytiri complains a lot about you not eating properly too.”
Neteyam ears flushed at the tips. “Thank you.” Your mother gave his arm a gentle loving pat.
Your father stepped toward Ro’kani, clasping the back of his neck. “Walk safe,” he murmured. “And don’t take the high outer path in the dark. The wood is slick after the rain.”
Ro’kani’s grin softened. “I know, Father.”
“Knowing and listening are not the same thing.”
“That sounds like something Y/n would say.”
“Because she listens.”
You gave your brother a side glance to you as your father turned to you. He reached out, brushing his knuckles lightly beneath your chin the way he had when you were younger, tilting your face up just enough to look at you.
“And you,” he said, voice lower, “rest tonight. No late training.”
Your spine stiffened by instinct. “I wasn’t going to train.” Ro’kani chuckled. You ignored him. Your father held your gaze a moment longer, before nodding. “Good.”
He pressed his forehead briefly to yours. It was not long, but it was enough. A quiet goodnight. Your mother came from Neteyam, placing one hand against Ro’kani’s cheek and then yours, her touch lingering on you, gentle.
Your mother’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That is not the same as saying you will not train.”
Ro’kani grinned, nudging you with his arm. “Ha.” You looked away, exhaling lowly, almost a laugh. Neteyam caught it, smiling to himself at the sight.
Your mother turned to him then, her expression brightening with warmth. “Thank you for coming, Neteyam. You are welcome at our table again.” Neteyam bowed his head, touched by the statement. “Thank you for inviting me. The meal was very good.”
“Good enough to return?” your father asked, amused.
Neteyam’s gaze flicked, instinctively towards you. Then he looked back to your father. “Yes,” he said, steady despite the spike of his pulse. “Very good.”
Your father smiled in return. The four of you stepped out into the warm hut. The air outside was cooler. Your parents stopped at the entrance while you, Ro’kani, and Neteyam adjusted the baskets in hand.
Your mother lifted her hand in farewell. “Straight home.”
“Yes, Mother,” you and Ro’kani said at the same time. The unison response made your father laugh softly. Your mother smiled, satisfied, and leaned against him as the three of you began down the path.
Neteyam glanced back once. Your parents still stood in the doorway, wanting to assure you all walked safely until out of sight. Then your father raised two fingers to his brow in a final farewell. Neteyam returned the gesture with respect before turning back to the path beside you.
For a few breaths, the three of you walked in comfortable silence. Night and settled over Hometree, there were no busy chatter just distant murmurs or the soft rustle of leave whenever someone moved through the branches above.
The quiet, was unfortunately broken Ro’kani. “This is very touching.”
You kept your eyes forward. “What is?”
“This.” He gestured vaguely between you and Neteyam with two fingers. “The silent walk. The careful distance. And the way neither of you look at the other, yet somehow both of you know exactly where the other is.”
Neteyam almost tripped over a root. You didn’t look at him, but your ears twitched, alarmed. Ro’kani grinned, “See? Even her ears confess before she does.”
“Ro’kani,” you warned.
“What? I am only observing.” He looked at Neteyam, grin sharpening. “That is what we call it right?”
Neteyam eyes widened momentarily, his gaze flickering between you and Ro’kani. “Stop remembering.”
“I can’t it’s a gift.”
“No, you’re just loud,” you corrected.
“Also, true.” Ro’kani adjusted the basket on his hip and glanced between you again. “So, Neteyam, are you walking with us because the path is dangerous, or because you are still being respectful to my mother’s invitation?”
Neteyam’s gaze flicked briefly toward you before returning to the path. “It’s late.”
Ro’kani nodded solemnly. “Yes, it is late. It can get dangerous at night, hm? Especially for my sister, who has never walked this path before in her entire life. Even with her older brother an extra pair of hand will do huh?”
“I didn’t say she needed me,” Neteyam replied carefully. That made you glance at him. It was brief, but Neteyam still felt warm beneath your gaze.
“I know she can make it home,” he added, voice quieter. “I only thought I would walk this way too.”
“Also, you are plenty Ro’kani.” Neteyam shook his head amused. Ro’kani’s released a short chuckle.
Ignoring the two men, you look ahead again, your grip of the basket shifted. It wasn’t heavy, not really, Neteyam knew that. Yet, he didn’t offer to carry it this time. Not because he didn’t want to, he did. The want to offer rose when your mother first gave it to you at the hut. But he remembered at the stream, when you first told him no. How you only gave him that one basket after choosing to do so yourself. So, he just held onto his own basket, but he walked near just in case. Both you and Ro’kani noticed.
“You know, when we were small, she used to make me walk on the outside of every path.”
Your head turned. “That’s not true.”
“It is very true.” Ro’kani looked at Neteyam. “She said if a branch broke, I would fall first because I was older and had stronger bones.”
Neteyam turned to you, amused.
You looked ahead not meeting his gaze. “I was five.”
“A ruthless age,” Ro’kani said, yet felt reminiscent of your mentality back then. He smiled softly. Neteyam laughed under his breath. You looked at him. This laugh was different than his usual ones. It was quiet and warm, unguarded even. Nothing like the respectful controlled laugh he does around elders. No, this was softer, easier. And for some reason in hearing it your ears twitched towards him. As if wanting to hear more.
Ro’kani saw that too.
“Interesting,” he murmured.
“If you continue,” you said, “I will make you carry both baskets.”
“You already gave me the heavy one.”
“Mother gave you the heavy one.”
Ro’kani laughed. The path split a little farther ahead. One branch curved toward Ro’kani’s hut, tucked among the higher roots with the other young hunters. The other wounded toward your smaller hut, quieter and farther from the main gathering areas. Ro’kani slowed at the split, looking between the two paths before his gaze landed on Neteyam.
“Well,” he said, far too casually. “This is where I leave you both to be very respectful and very silent.”
Your head snapped toward him. “Ro’kani.”
He shrugged causally. “What? It’s true.”
Neteyam fought to keep his face composed, and it took a lot of effort. Ro’kani stepped closer to him, grin still present but his voice dropping so only Neteyam could hear. “Walk her home. Don’t make it weird.” Neteyam met his gaze, and he could see it. The warning, not threatening but it was there. An older brother’s warning, he knew it well.
Neteyam nodded once. “I won’t.” Ro’kani nodded holding his gaze a few seconds longer before backing away. His hand went to your head resting there. “Goodnight, prrnen tmuske (baby sister).”
“Night.” You replied.
Ro’kani looked at Neteyam. “Try not to trip over your own feet, brother.”
“I didn’t trip.”
Ro’kani looked down the path they had walked, directly at the root Neteyam had tripped over earlier. Neteyam ignored Ro’kani knowing gaze. With one last smile, Ro’kani turned down his own path, calling over his shoulder, “Goodnight, respectful future Olo’eyktan.”
“Goodnight,” Neteyam said, half sighing.
You watched your brother disappear into his hut, exhaling slowly through your nose. You looked away, staring down the path that led to your own. “He enjoys making things difficult,” you said.
Neteyam stood close, but not too close. “I think he enjoys making things easier.”
You turned your head toward him. And for a moment, the two of you stood on the split path, the night alive around you. Then Neteyam gestured lightly down the path. “May I walk you the rest of the way?”
You studied him. You knew how he was. Knew he wouldn’t push; knew he didn’t offer because he didn’t trust you. It was why you didn’t refuse. Because his offers never came with terms and conditions.
“If you want,” you said.
It was not permission, exactly. But it was something close. And Neteyam smiled all the same, falling into step beside you. From behind you, off in the distance Ro’kani carried loud enough for others to hear.
“Be respectful!”
You closed your eyes for one long second. Cursing him a thousand times over in your head. While Neteyam laughed lowly. You didn’t mention it, nor did you mind it.
Neteyam matched your pace. Walking directly beside you. He realized small things matter, like they did for everyone. But when it came to you, Neteyam was extra careful. If he walked too close you would retreat, forcing distance. If he was too far it would feel like another quiet walk before it could become more. So, he kept a careful distance, close enough to be known but far enough so you didn’t feel cornered.
For a moment, he wondered when he started measuring distance like this. With everyone else it was simple. A scolding hand on Lo’ak shoulder dragging him away from trouble. A warm hand around Tuk whenever she rushes him with a hug. Even with Ro’kani it was easy, teasing pushes and carefree laughter.
Yet with you, everything required different care. As it does with everyone. And despite how careful he had to be, how he had to move with caution. He didn’t mind; in fact, he wanted to get better at it. Neteyam looked ahead, watching the faint glow of moss along the roots. Beside him, you carried the basket your mother had forced into your hands. The wrapped food inside shifted softly with each step just as he did. The want to carry it rose again, but he pushed it down.
“You’re quiet,” you said.
Neteyam glanced at you, surprised you had spoken first. “I was thinking.”
Your eyes remained on the path ahead. “That can be dangerous.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “So Ro’kani keeps telling me.”
Your ears twitched. A reaction, barely there but Neteyam saw it. He smiled to himself. Neteyam wondered if you knew how much your ears told. Telling what your face and mouth refuse too. He knew Ro’kani would always point it out, teasing you about it. But he also wondered if others saw enough to notice. To see that the silent huntress they boast about feels too. That she is more than her bow and skill. Then for a fleeting moment, he thought he didn’t want them to see. He wanted to stay one of the few to notice. To be able to see you tells, to read you better than others. He knew that sounded selfish, yet he didn’t care. The feeling had already taken root.
Then his father warning played back in his mind. Don't make promises with your eyes if you are not ready to keep them.
Neteyam’s fingers flexed around the basket. He was beginning to understand why he had warned him. Obviously, he is not subtle with his gaze. Your family’s teasing at dinner was a clear sign of that. Something unspoken passed between you two often. Whether either of you liked it or not. The same something he couldn’t name. Maybe a promise, maybe not. Neteyam didn’t know, but he did know he wanted to be worthy of whatever it was.
You stepped carefully over the roots twisting along the path, he watched you carefully. Without meaning to, Neteyam slowed down ready to catch you if your footing slipped. It didn’t, and he expected that. But he wanted to be sure. Noticing, you looked at him. “I can walk.”
“I know,” he said immediately. He answered quick, too quick. Neteyam held your gaze, forcing himself not to explain more under your studying gaze. I know you can walk. I know you can protect yourself. I only want to be there.
You gaze lingered on him seconds longer before nodding. “Good.”
Your hut came into view sooner than Neteyam wanted. It was among the quieter roots, a smaller hut than your parents. But big enough for you. Neteyam slowed when you did. For a moment, you stood at the edge of the small clearing with the basket held against your hip, looking anywhere except at him.
“This is me,” you said. Neteyam eyes went to your hut. Not prying but just looking over the shape of your home. “It suits you.”
You looked at him then, lips holding the faintest smile. “Small and out of the way?”
He shook his head softly, smiling gently at you. “Peaceful.”
That caught you off guard a bit. You picked this hut because it was quiet. And not many passed by these roots. Peaceful? You hadn’t thought of that, it wasn’t something you allowed yourself to feel often. And of course, your ears shifted betraying your neutral face. You adjusted the basket in your arms. “Thank you for walking with me.”
The words came out formal and polished. Not giving any more, even though in the back of your mind you thought of it.
“Thank you for letting me,” Neteyam replied.
You stared at him; you expected that answer. It was a Neteyam answer. And upon hearing, it still caught you off guard. Your shoulders lowered a little and your face softened, quickly you turned away before he could see.
“You should go before it gets later,” you said.
Neteyam huffed a quiet laugh. “Of course.”
He dipped his head respectfully, but his eyes stayed on yours a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, Y/n.”
Your name sounded different when he said it here. Outside the quiet of your hut, away from Ro’kani teasing. It was softer, like he was careful with it. Swallowing the strange pull in your chest you forced yourself to reply.
“Goodnight, Neteyam.”
He turned to leave, and you should have gone inside. Should’ve left it there, keeping the boundary you set in place. But instead, you stood their basket in hand, and you watched him walk down the glowing path. Neteyam didn’t look over his shoulder right away. And you were grateful for that; it gave you time to breathe. To calm your racing thoughts, to smooth over your face. To remind yourself that this was him honoring your mother and Ro’kani request. But you knew that was a lie.
Then Neteyam reached the turn in the path and paused. He looked back, and you were still standing there. Neither of you moved. Warmth spread beneath his chest, his tail flicked twice behind him. Your ears twitched, lifting in the air angling towards him. And you hated the fact that he could probably see them from there.
Then, Neteyam smiled. Small and quiet before walking down the path. Until he was hidden by the thicker roots. Finally, you step inside your hut. The quiet that greeted you was normal. You set the basket down on the woven floor, near the empty basket of food your mother had given you days ago. Then, slowly, you lifted your hand to your chest. Pressing firming into your chest as if to calm your heart. It did nothing. To make matters worse, your mind played over the way he spoke your name, as if it was a gift to say. The moment he looked over his shoulder to see if you still stood there. And then seeing his quiet smile when he realized you were watching him.
You felt stupid. These feelings felt stupid. It was just a walk home. A goodnight. A simple smile. Nothing so jurassic that your heart should be raging against your rib cage. And yet, despite yourself, when the quiet settled around you again. You thought, you hoped, that he would walk the path to your hut again.
pairing: aged up neteyam sully x fem omatikaya reader
s: the silent huntress covers her older brother duties due to his conflicting schedule, and it seems Neteyam is always there.
w.c: 5.6k
a/n: the winner of the poll! sorry it took so long ive been drawing a lot in my free time and ive rewrote this five times already. i hope you all enjoy part one!
pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4
High-pitched child wails filled the tent. The warmth of the sun and the soothing breeze that swayed the trees could not ease the pain in the little girl's heart. Your mother left the half-cut fruit, sitting you in her lap to calm you. “Please ma’ite (my daughter). Why cry so much?” she cooed, gently wiping away the never ending tears in her daughter's eyes.
Quick steps echoed from the distance; a small figure appeared, blocking the beam of sun casting over the two. “Sa’nok!(mother)” the young boy called out cheerfully, holding a dead creature's bone—from a Hexapede, still coated in blood, the hunt fresh.
Your eyes moved to the blood-covered bone, then to your older brother who held it proudly and cheerfully. Your tears continued, erupting into a stronger cry. Ro’kani flinched at the sound, looking to his mother to find out what he had done wrong. His mother only gave a stern glare in return. The boy stood confused, glancing between the bloody bone than at his mother who comforted his little sister.
Quickly, he set the bone down and wiped the blood away on his loincloth. “What is it?” he finally asked, sitting beside you holding your hand as you cried.
“She feels sad for the creatures, because we hunt and eat them.” She explained, holding you knee as she rubbed her thumb in a soothing motion. Ro’kani’s face softened with sadness at his little sister's distress.
“Don’t cry,” he pleaded.
“The animals dying is good.” She wailed more, and Ro’kani winced.
“Wait, wait, listen.” He released a little giggle. “Eywa is like a mother. Like mom is for us.” He pointed to your mother as an example. “Mama wouldn’t hunt us.” You hiccuped little mind not having a memory of running from your loving mother.
Ro’kani smirked. “No. But she provides for us.” He explained, waiting for your reaction before continuing. “The animals are the way the great mother provides for us.”
“So, when we—um—kill the animals, it is a gift from Eywa. And we always thank her.” He glanced at his mother, who smiled fondly and nodded in encouragement.
“But they bleed, get hurt,” she sniffled. Ro’kani smiled with pride and continued, “Yes but no! We have the best hunters! You know what a clean kill is?” You shook your head, confusion clear on your face.
“It is when you hit a weak spot on the animal so that when they die, it feels less pain. The death is fast, so it’s a peaceful sendoff back to Eywa,” he explained.
“Go back to Eywa? Why?” You asked calmer than before. “So, they can be at peace and not hurt anymore. Get it?” You nodded slowly, your tears dry now, and Ro’kani smiled.
“Good. Oh! To make you feel even better, guess what your tsmukan (brother) did?” You blinked at him waiting for an answer.
“I got to say the prayer over sempul (father) clean kill! Sending it peacefully to the great mother.” He said. You smiled in return. Ro’kani rose from the ground, taking your hand. “Let’s go see father he’ll tell you.”
There near the edge of the clan were the surrounding hunters crowding the dead creatures, one of them was huge, six legs and black, his snout like fangs. It frightened you, causing you to yank at Rokani hand hiding behind him.
“It won’t harm you; father took care of it.”
At the sound of his eldest voice, your father left his conversation. “My boy, what brings you back?” His question was answered upon seeing his daughter behind him, whimpering at the sight of the animals. Understanding he took you into his larger arms, cradling you against his chest.
“There is nothing to fear, ma’ite. They can no longer harm you.”
“You killed them.” You whimper, quietly holding onto your father’s braids.
“We hunters and warriors have to, in order to protect and feed.” Your father pointed to the larger scary animal. “If that one had gotten any closer to home it would have harmed the clan members, you, Rokani and your mother. All who cannot protect themselves.” You stared at the creatures.
“I don’t want that.”
“Neither do I, so I do my duty and protect. In my hunt I cannot falter or hesitate. But be flawless and true so I can come back to you little one.” You father kissed your face over and over causing you to giggle and squeal laughter filling the air.
“I want to be like you papa.” You father giggled low, “And you will, you both will.” His hand moved to Rokani shoulder giving a squeeze.
“This clan has a bright future with such warriors as yourselves.”
“Do not linger behind.”
The young ones scrambled to follow your careful steps, walking as close as possible. Usually, you wouldn’t spend your time doing this, leading a pack of inexperience hunters. Teaching them the ways to track, hunt, and give thanks. Rather, you would find yourself training alone, in a secluded training area you’ve made for yourself, or aiding in your mother’s daily chores. Even shadowing after your father who took part in the war party. Not today, instead you are here filling in for your older brother who had been pulled away by the Olo’eyktan for other matters. He pleaded with you to take his place in training the younger hunters.
His exact words were, “They long to learn from the silent huntress.”
A dumb name.
Yet, it had been a title you’ve yet to shake with the many you’ve acquired throughout your life. Due to the name and reputation of the unapproachable huntress, all aspiring hunters looked to you, especially the clumsy ones who tripped over overgrown roots right now. Watching your back with eagerness, the urge to prove oozed off them. Despite the mask you have, their need to do well swells your heart. Coming from your wondering thoughts, you slowly stopped your trek down the path. Eyes scanning across the thick greenery, ears twitching to catch any sound suspicious or unwelcoming.
“This is the path you walk with Ro’kani.” You questioned, kneeling in the dirt, fingers moving over the moss. “Yes.” The oldest of the group, Vonll, answered. He always walked along Ro’kani when leading the group, a second in command. With every passing second you felt the shift, still crouched you moved over the grass, tracking. Holding out your hand that held your bow, in silent warning to stay back. Vonll understood, making sure everyone listened to the instructions. Their wide innocent eyes looked curious, fear slowly consuming them.
With one final brush of your hand over the grass, you saw it, footprints in the dirt, one set of six. Then two, three, with each one found you rose notching your arrow. “Go back down the path, now.” Immediately they listened, running back down the path, you followed close behind. Eyes scanning through the thick forest, pinpointing possible routes they could come from.
Rapid steps filled your ears, eye darting to the clearing on the far left, close to the path to the village. From behind the thick tree, one rounded with others following, snarls filled the air. The young ones gasped behind you while your stance was ready and quick, already releasing the notch arrow knocking one into the grass, dead.
“Run!”
Following behind your steps were quick, urging everyone to run faster. With any chance you got, you turned and swiftly dropped another. For seconds your eyes remained, watching as it dropped into pandoras soil unmoving. Biting the inside of your cheek you turned away and began running again. It was then you realized you would be leading these predators too close to home. Gritting your teeth your eyes darted up, “In the trees. Climb!” You assisted everyone in the climb, but one young male foot caught a weak branch, it gave under his weight. Vonll with another on his back reached for him, but he was out of his reach, he groaned in frustration watching as the boy fell down back beside you.
You cursed under your breath, the viperwolves drew closer. It was too late to have him climb up again, instead you covered him stance ready and arrow notch, it’s like breathing.
“Stay behind me.”
As they ran up you bared your teeth, hissing in warning. A warning they did not heed. The closest one met the same fate as the other two before. Another lunged at you, quickly you dropped your bow unsheathing your knife and dug into its thick flesh, right where it’s fatal. Throwing it from your body, you quickly grabbed your bow shooting one quickly. From the side one lunged at the young hunter behind you, whipping your head around, you swung at it with your bow knocking it down. Before it could scramble to attack, you rushed over knee at its neck, it clawed at your thigh digging into your flesh leaving being marks of its frustration. Groaning in pain, you aimed for the spot and stabbed at it, ending its struggle.
You watch as it stilled beneath you, slumping against the grass. Pulling your knife out, your hand trembled around the grip as you watched the soul drift from the creature. Gripping your knife, you sheathed it, turning to the young hunter who braced himself against the thick tree right where you told him. Fear and shock instilled in him as he froze where he stood. With quiet urgency, your hands went to his arm, resting against him in assurance. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” You comforted him.
Vonll climbed down, helping the others as well. One by one you saw to their possible wounds, checking their mental and physical. Nothing but scrapes and bruises but with practiced care you applied salves to each one using the medical supplies you always carried with you. Standing with Vonll, you wrapped his forearm, he had gotten a gnash from climbing up the tree so fast with extra weight.
“You did well.” You praised him.
His ears shot up, eyes widened at your words. Never did he expect a compliment from you, for a moment it felt unreal, until he felt the weight of your bandage on his forearm. Nodding, he gave a shy thanks.
After everyone was accounted for and their weapons returned to them. With silent reverence you knelt before the viper wolf closest to you, the one that had wounded you. The clawed mark throbbed painfully, yet it was dull comparison to the grief that weighs on your heart. Its death, along with its brothers and sisters were hasty and painful, nothing like you usually hunts. But the situation was dire, there was no choice. You purse your lips to prevent your bottom lip from trembling. Resting your hand against its body, just beside the trail of blood, you closed your eyes sitting with it. Everyone stood around, quietly watching.
“This is not how we hunt, nor how we kill the creatures Eywa provides us with.” You quietly said, but everyone heard. Leaning over the viper wolf, you spoke the prayer gently guiding the spirit back to the great mother. Releasing a low shaky breath, you rose from the dirt facing the young hunters.
“It is alright to be scared, to feel. Let those emotions be your driving force. These creatures, they are still a gift from Eywa, pray over them. With their deaths we will be feed, with their deaths we are safe.” With your guidance, you watched every young hunter pray over the viperwolves, teaching them the words and respect to give. Together, you carried what you could back home, leading the group like before. Unlike before, everyone stayed close, there was no need to instruct them to draw near no longer. Vonll head turn every so often, looking in every direction possible, on high alert still.
“We are fine Vonll.” You said. He stiffened under your voice facing forward. “Right, just being sure. But um your leg.” He nodded down. But you didn’t follow his gaze, you knew of the wound you had not treated, wrapped poorly with bandaged as you rushed. Though, you wanted to bear the wound, as silent punishment for yourself.
“I will tend to it when we are back home. The wrapping will have to do for now.” You said, Vonll looked as if he wanted to argue, dreading for when Ro’kani would see his precious sister injured.
“Sister.” The one walking beside you, spoke up voice shy and trembling the viper wolf he carried heavy against his shoulders, you gave him your attention.
“How did you do it? Your aim, it looked perfect.” He asked and others mumbled agreements hurdling closer to hear you better. Looking away, you remembered the grueling hours of training with your father and brother. The hours you spent away from the village training on your own.
“Thank you, but they weren’t perfect. My aim could’ve been far better, I need more practice it seems. It’s what I usually do. I never stop until my arrows land directly in the center. If I am even a centimeter off, I would continue on training another hour no matter how late or early.” You replied.
“Then I can do the same.” A girl behind you spoke up. But you shook your head. “Don’t. It’s not healthy.”
“You did it.” Another argued. you sighed.
You sighed, amused. “It wasn’t healthy for me either.”
“You can teach them.” Vonll finally joined in, causing you to look at him.
“No.”
Instantly, groans and complaints filled the air, clearly that wasn’t the reply they wanted to hear. The air filled, with possible scenarios of you teaching them, and them boasting about how nice it would be to be taught by the silent huntress who is unexpectedly kind. With each fabricated tale, you couldn’t help the small smile that came to your face, “Ro’kani is a great instructor he will continue to teach you.” They still mumbled small complaints along the way.
Walking along the path to home tree, making it to the cooking station. “Drop the kills here.” Everyone listened, piling the creatures together neatly. “All of you, to the healer's circle. Get check out.”
“What about you?” The same young boy who you had protected asked, his eye focused on your thigh. He pursed his lips; fist balled at his side. You knew that expression, disappointment. Your face softens at his gaze. “I will get treated but you go along first.” Reluctantly they went ahead guided by Vonll. Turning away, you avoided other clan members, walking the path to the lower roots. Golden eyes followed your figure.
The lower roots were cool and quiet, far from the loudness of the clan above. Sitting against the bark, you brought your leg up carefully. Wincing lowly, as you unwrapped the blood soaked bandage from your thigh. The wound was deep, and angry. The sight of your own blood made your stomach turn uncomfortably. A soft rustle of leaves cut through the quiet.
Instantly, your ears shot up, posture straightening. You moved your good leg over your injured one, hiding it from view. Masking slipping on easily, prepared to play the role of the name you found dumb.
Neteyam stepped around the thick root. His eyes met yours instantly, his posture relaxed stopping a respectful feet away from you. He watched you from where he stood, eyes dropping to your hidden leg before returning to your eyes. "The young hunters are calling you a legend," Neteyam said softly, his voice low so no one would hear but you. "They say you took down eight viperwolves without blinking.”
“That’s an exaggeration. If you're looking for them, I sent them to the healer circle.” You kept your voice neutral, resisting the urge to move as the weight of your leg felt painful against your thigh.
"I know where they are. And I’m not here for them.” Neteyam said, taking a step closer holding his hands up shaking them slightly. His larges hands were full; in one a bundle of leaves that would help with stop the bleeding and in the other a clay bowel full of numbing salve. “I come baring gifts.” You eyed the supplies, your thigh throbbing angrily. "I have my own supplies."
"I know," Neteyam replied easily. He didn't push you, didn’t try to convince you to be tended to by a healer. Instead, he knelt down a few feet away, placing the leaves and the salve on a flat part of the root between you. Sliding them toward you a bit more, so you wouldn’t strain your wound trying to grab it. "Doesn’t hurt to have extra. Besides, if your brother sees this," He let out a small chuckle, " he will never let you leave hometree again."
For a moment your mask slipped. The thought of your older brother suffocating you, being overprotective was entirely accurate. Neteyam eyes dropped to your wound, then he noticed the slight, barely visible tremble of your fingers. He looked away purposefully, respectfully giving you privacy to breathe. "Clean it with the leaves first. It will sting, but it keeps the infection out." He said voice holding no judgement only warmth. Hesitant, you reached out and took the fresh leaves. Your hands still trembling.
"I will stay right here," Neteyam murmured, stepping back and turning away from you. Acting as a shield between you and anyone who walked the path. "If anyone comes, I will tell them we are discussing training exercises for the children." You held the leaves and clay bowl in your hands, staring at his broad shoulders, protecting you from any wondering gaze.
“Thank you Neteyam,” you whispered.
He didn’t turn around to look at you, but his ears twitched signally, he heard you. A genuine smile graced his face, something you couldn’t see. “Of course, anything for the silent huntress.”
The story of the viper wolf attack had spread to every corner of hometree. Clan members praised you in passing, the children parents thank you for your actions. And you were polite, and respectful under the praise but still kept your distance. Sitting near the cook fires, back straight you were crafting new arrows. The tips a glossy black, obsidian. Hearing of your feat, your father gifted you the rock knowing exactly what you would do with it. Fingers moving automatically, you pulled the fiber tight securing the sharp tip with ease before moving to the next.
"You got hurt."
Your brother's voice filled your ears, causing you to stiffen. He dropped down beside you, his sharp eyes instantly scanning your frame for injuries. Until they locked onto the bandages that hugged your right thigh. He frowned immediately, "That path was supposed to be the safest.” He murmured to himself, brimming with protectiveness. “Why didn’t you tell me? I had to hear from the children about the wound the beast gave you."
"I already treated it," you said calmly, blowing a shaving of wood off your arrow. Continuing your work, you didn't look up at him. "It was a superficial wound. I didn’t want to tell you because I handled it. Beside it was a small mishap.” You lied.
"A mishap? You could have-"
"I am fine," you interrupted gently, finally meeting his eyes with a firm, steady look that told him you didn’t want to speak about it anymore. "The children are safe. The threat is gone. It is dealt with. No need to stress over what is already done.”
Your brother exhaled heavily, defeated. He knew better than to push when you used that tone with him. "You are too stubborn for your own good," he muttered, hand moving to your shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. “You are sure you’re alright?” He asked, yellow eyes full of concern and brotherly love. You knew what he meant to, knew he was referring to killing the creatures, to mending your own wound. Seeing your hands stained with blood. Eyes downcast you nodded; “I’m fine.”
“You shouldn’t patrol today. Rest, let your wound heal.” He suggested. But you pointily ignored him. He released a short chuckle, giving a finally gentle squeeze before standing up to greet someone approaching the fire. It was Neteyam. He approached with his usual effortless grace, nodding a greeting to your brother. "Good morning Ro’kani," Neteyam said, his voice smooth.
"Sup, Neteyam," your brother greeted warmly, clapping him on the arm. "My little sister here is trying to convince me she is made of stone. I think she should rest before patrol, but of course she thinks otherwise."
Neteyam's golden eyes flicked down to you. Lifting your head, you kept your gaze neutral, holding his eyes with the same cool, respectful distance you had maintained for years. Neither of you spoke of that moment beneath the lower roots. No fleeting glances nor secret smiles, no clear signs of weakness. Neteyam noticed the boundary you always kept, he expected it. Has been standing at if for years like everyone else, which is why he didn’t cower. Instead, he gave an easy shrug to Ro’kani.
"She is a warrior. If she says she is okay than it is so, I trust her judgment. But," he added, his voice dipping just a fraction as his eyes shifted to your hand, seeing the tight grip you had on your carving knife, "everyone has a limit. Even the best of us."
Ro’kani missing the subtle double meaning, laughed at Neteyam response before changing the topic to the days hunting and scouting route he is assigned to do. But you caught it. The two men talked while you went back to crafting your arrows. Their conversation white noise to you, but you could feel Neteyam gaze. His golden orbs shift over to you whenever Ro’kani looked away or gestured somewhere in the distance. He was just simply watching, observing you quietly. Watching your steady hands, the memory of your trembling hand visible in his mind. Then his eyes trailed to your face, your neutral mask, the soft twitch of your ears catching your brother words and the subtle flick of your tail. He knew you were aware of his heavy gaze yet still didn’t look away.
To you, it felt like he was trying to see your soul. Aiming for the walls you’ve built around your heart and mind. And for a moment, you assumed he could see through you. A small thought you knew was untrue because no one could truly see the soul expect through one way. And you and Neteyam weren’t connected like that. Pushing your aimless thoughts away. You remained focused, refusing to look back up. But your shoulders felt heavy with the sudden weight of his attention.
“I’ve already told you no.” You used that tone, the one that signaled the conversation was over. The tone usually worked, but it didn’t right now. Ro’kani has spent the afternoon trailing after you, wearing your defenses down to take over training the children for him—again.
“It would do them good. They want to learn from you. And,” Ro’kani stepped in front of you, stopping you trek down the path. “Neteyam will be there. You won’t be alone.” Huffing, you looked away bow tight in your grasp. “They want their hero. The one who defeated seven viperwolves alone and lives to tell the story.”
“I don’t tell the story.” You glared at him. Ro’kani didn’t falter, instead he held his clasp hands, pleading. “Please, sister. Just the basics, that’s nothing to you.”
So, here you were.
The sun filtered through the canopy, casting scattered light over the training grounds, where a dozen young Na'vi were gathered. You were kneeling in the dirt, completely focused. Your thigh wound throbbed with a dull ache, but your face remained unreadable.
"Precision is not about speed," you murmured to a young boy whose bow string was pulled back too far, his arm shaking with the strain. You gently reached out, your fingers pressing against his elbow to adjust his alignment, easing his hold a little. "If you rush the release, your breathing falters. If your breathing falters, the arrow is cruel, reckless. We don’t want the creature to suffer. We want a clean transition back to the Great Mother."
Under your soft voice, and gentle guidance, the boy relaxed, exhaling a quiet breath. He stilled standing in his fixed position. Then, he released the string. The arrow thwacked perfectly in the center of the target. The other children gasped in awe.
"Wow..." the boy exhaled, stunned he had gotten a perfect shot.
A sudden crunch of a heavy footstep made the children snap their heads around, including you. Standing at the edge of the clearing was Neteyam, a bundle of freshly strung training bows slung over his shoulder. He froze. His golden eyes went wide, dropping to your kneeling from among the kids, then up to the targets, and back to you. To say he was shocked would be a massive understatement. His mouth parted slightly, ready to speak before closing again, his usual calm and effortless confidence entirely derailed.
Neteyam had expected to lead this class alone today. He knew that Ro’kani schedule had a conflict. So, he never expected to find you here knelt in the dirt, surrounded by children who looked at her with pride, aiding them in their training. Meeting his stunned gaze, you weren’t surprised. You knew you would be training alongside him today, but it seems Ro’kani hadn’t pasted the message onto him. Rising smoothly to your feet, the dull ache of your thigh wound shot a hot pain up your spine. You suppressed the grimace, giving him a respectful nod. "Neteyam."
Neteyam recovered quickly, though his ears twitched with lingering surprise as he walked further into the clearing stopping before you. "I... did not expect to see you here," he admitted, his voice low. "Ro'kani told me he wouldn’t be here. So, I expected to teach alone."
"Not today. My brother had a very busy afternoon of begging me to take his place," you replied, keeping your voice neutral and professional. "He believed the children would benefit more from my perspective. But, if I am disrupting your lesson, I can leave."
"No." Neteyam blurted out a bit too quickly. The children stared at him; you stood still a bit shocked at his response. Clearing his throat, Neteyam adjusted the bows on his shoulder as a rare, slightly flustered look crossed his face. He quickly smoothed his expression back into that of a leader. "No, not at all. Your perspective is exactly what they need. I was actually going to teach them stance stability today. It seems you have already started."
The young boy you had just helped piped up proudly, "Tsmuke showed us how to breathe with the bow, Neteyam! She says Eywa demands precision!" Neteyam's gaze flicked back to you. There was a sudden, intense warmth in his eyes, deep respect. He remembered the shaking hands, the hidden fear of blood, and suddenly it all clicked for him. Your precision wasn't just about being a deadly hunter; it was your way of being gentle to the world.
"Is that so?" Neteyam murmured, his eyes locking onto yours, holding your neutral gaze with a quiet intensity. You broke it first, deeming it went on for far too long for your liking. Neteyam lips twitched, smile faint as he stepped up right beside you, his shoulder nearly brushing yours. "Then I suppose the Silent Huntress and I will have to teach together. Let see if they can handle both of us." He teased, lighting the fire in the children's hearts. To them this was a dream come true. Being trained by the future Olo’eyktan, the second hand to the current and the silent huntress whose precision was deadly.
With Neteyam, you taught the children together instructing them the proper way to breathe before releasing an arrow, and the proper stance for stability.
"To shoot accurately from the high branches, your balance must come from your core, not your feet," Neteyam announced to the gathered children. “Focus solely on your feet and you will fall before you can even track your target.” He unslung his bow; his eyes moved to you.
"Y/n and I will demonstrate the dual-guard stance. Watch how our weight shifts." Neteyam instructed, walking to you. You kept your face neutral, but inside, there was a soft swirl of panic. The dual-guard stance required two hunters to stand back to back or side by side, locking their frames together to create a steady anchor on uneven terrain. Hand twitching beside your right thigh, you willed yourself to fight through the pain.
Neteyam stepped into your personal space. The heat radiating from his skin was sudden and grounding. Making the small swirl of panic more profound. He didn't just stand near you; he positioned himself on your right side intentionally placing his sturdy frame against your wounded right thigh.
“Place your feet here," he said for the children's benefit, but as you shifted your weight, a sharp burning pain shot up from your stitches. Your breath hitched, a tiny, involuntary tremor traveling through your frame.
Before anyone else could notice, Neteyam closed the small distance between you. His broad shoulder pressed firmly against yours. He subtly angled his hip so that your weight was forced onto him, physically bracing you. To the children, it looked like a perfect, textbook demonstration of a synchronized hunting stance. To you, it was support.
"Steady," Neteyam whispered, his voice low, meant only for your ears. His head was turned slightly, eyes meeting yours, assuring. "I have you. Lean into me."
You looked straight ahead at the targets, keeping your face cool and neutral. Accepting his aid, you allowed yourself to lean a fraction of your weight against his solid frame. The pain in your leg eased, replaced by the overwhelming awareness of his skin against yours. Neteyam didn't move an inch feet planted firm into the dirt, holding you steady with quiet fierce protection. Fixing your stance using your good leg, you readied your bow, arrow notched. Neteyam followed. Together you released your arrows, both striking the intended targets for the children to see.
“This is one way to assure your stance is correct on uneven ground. It also assures you have your other clan members back.” Neteyam spoke smoothly, still unmoving providing his body as crotch to you. “You will not hit the target on the first try, nor will I allow you to attempt. Instead practicing the stance with a partner holding your bows ready as if you had arrows.” He instructed, and the children broke off into groups practicing the demonstration.
With the children distracted, you eased away from Neteyam, standing to your full height, your weight shifted back onto your injured leg. It trembled beneath your weight, your knee threatening to buckle, before it could his hand was there. At your elbow, steadying you. Before you could meet his gaze, or mention his quiet act, he released you. His attention turned to two boys arguing over their foot placement.
By the time the sky bled orange and gold through the canopy, the children had left the training grounds. Leaving you and Neteyam to clean up. Ignoring the dull pain in your thigh, you moved from target to target, wrenching arrows free from the moss dyed red. Neteyam moved, swiftly across the grounds, gathering bows and stray arrows and returning them to their respectable areas. The air was still and quiet, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable but present.
Finishing the only chore, Neteyam allowed you to do and after he had done everything else before you could get to it. You approached him, just to double check everything had been finished. He knelt in the dirt arranging spare targets, bonding them loosely with twine. He felt your presence before he looked, glancing over his shoulder once before returning to his task. “I can finish here,” he said. “You should go to dinner before Lo’ak finishes off the sturmbeest.” A short chuckle left him, remembering the one time that had happened and he was banned from the cooking stations after. You remembered it too. Ro’kani had laughed so hard that night your mother had nearly taken him to Mo’at.
You nodded once and turned to leave, walking just to the edge of the clearing, you came to a slow stop. Looking back, you watched Neteyam lift the targets onto the upper shelf. The shelter creaked under the weight, twigs and old moss fell from the shelf scattering on the ground around his feet.
“Thank you.”
A murmur. Barely a whisper, not truly for him to catch, instead meant to die in the air. But you didn’t notice the way his ears were already turned toward you, or how he was never focused on his task. Neteyam caught the words anyway. For a moment, he went still, his gaze flicking over to find yours, but instead he was met with your back.
He watched you go. His eyes following the soft sway of your braids that brushed just above your tail. Your straight posture, stiff and perfect. The way Kiri sometimes said he always stood. Finally, his eyes trailed to your thigh, watching as you favored your left leg. He watched you walk along the path that led to the homes higher in the tree instead of the clan dinner.
Neteyam released a soft sigh, chest tight with something small and unfamiliar. Something quiet, something he couldn’t pin. Something that made him want to call out to you, to walk you to the clan dinner so you would eat. But he had no reason to, and it wasn’t his place to do so.
Lost in his thoughts, Neteyam grip loosened around the bound targets, slowly they slipped from his hands. The twine came loose completely; the bundle dropped, knocking against his head. He groaned, muttering a string of curses as his tail flicked sharply behind him. Rubbing at the painful throb on his head and trying to ease the pain. Neteyam eyes drifted to the path you had disappeared down.
a/n: I've realized I have over 100 followers and that is insane. I am insanely grateful for all who read my work leaving likes, comments and reblogs. I just write for the fun of it and it's crazy to think that there are people who enjoy it. So again, thank you so much, I am so blessed.🥹
pairings: lo'ak sully x fem metkayina reader
s: lo'ak has a dumb idea and you can't say no to him
w.c: 6.8k
a/n: I like writing lo'ak it's sad that his fics never get a lot of love but anyways based on this request
The sun hid behind the horizon, basking Awa’atlu, in radiant shades of gold. You sat on the edge of the woven docks your feet dangling, toes dipping into the cool water. Busy mending a loose thread in one of your favorite tops.
“Hey, there you are.” Lo’ak’s voice broke the silence as he approached you on the woven walkway. You didn't need to look up to know exactly how he looked, his strained voice was evidence alone of his nervous energy. Still focused on your craft, you kept your voice neutral. “Did someone need me?”
“No, no.” Lo’ak said quickly, sitting down beside you. Sneaking a glance at him, Lo’ak didn’t meet it, instead his gaze immediately drifted across the water. Off in the distance where Tsireya stood beside her mother helping with some late gathering. Lo’ak longing gaze was so familiar, a gaze he has had since he landed in the village. A soft ache throbbed in your ribs, prompting you to look away chewing the soft skin of your bottom lip forcing yourself to focus on fixing your top.
From the day he came to your home, you held a quiet longing for him. Starting as curiosity before growing into the feelings you harbor in silence now. But, in all your time of always watching him from afar he always had eyes for Tsireya, the Olo'eyktan's daughter. Although, it was painful when you realized he would never look your way, you accepted it. And with every passing day you tried to move on. Funny, your efforts have done nothing.
“I need your help,” Lo'ak muttered, his ears pinning back in frustration. He finally looked at you, amber eyes conflicted. “It’s Tsireya. Every time I try to talk to her, try to court her she is being pulled away by someone else. And she’s so nice to everyone, I can't tell if she actually sees me. Like, really sees me.” He exhaled. “Lo'ak,” you began softly."You can't force these things.”
“I know. I know, but listen,” he leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. The sudden contact made your breath hitch, but you kept your body perfectly still, keeping your face neutral. "It’s like every time we talk; she is holding herself back. I don’t know if it’s because of her parents or because she feels unsure of her feelings. So, I’ve been thinking maybe she just needs a little push.” You frowned, hoping he was implying what you were thinking. “Push her how?” Lo'ak golden eyes locked onto yours, bright with a desperate idea.
“Help me make her look,” he whispered. “If she thinks I'm moving on, if she sees me spending all my time with someone else. She won't be able to just ignore it anymore, ignore me. She'll have to face whatever she feels.” He leaned back, grin hopeful and pleading. “Just for a little while. We act like we're together when people are watching. What do you think?”
The tide fell in, brushing against your ankles. As if Eywa is trying to sooth your broken heart, to coax you from crying in front of him. He was asking you to hold his hand, to look into his eyes, and to pretend to love him. So, he could win the heart of another. And the worst part was, you didn’t have to pretend. And you didn't know how to tell him no. “You want to use me to make her jealous,” you said, your voice terrifyingly steady fighting back the quiver that threaten to slip out.
“Not use you.” Lo'ak corrected, his expression softening. "You're one of my friends. I trust you. Please? Just until she notices?” He said, eyes wide, pleading. Meeting hid gaze, seeing him desperate and vulnerable with you, you sighed. Completely defenseless when it comes to him. Nodding slowly, you swallow your feelings, burying them. “Okay. I’ll help you.” You said, forcing a smile.
You’ve known Lo’ak for as long as he has been here, from when he arrived as a lanky teenager, oozing with recklessness and the need to prove. The boy who would race against skimwings on an ilu deeming his skill outshined his mount. At the time I didn’t. Now, he has mellowed out over the years. He still held that bravo and confidence but understood responsibility—to an extent. This idea was a prime example.
The moment you stepped from your mauri, he stood waiting for you, tail flicking behind him with nerves yet he grinned all the same. He talked your ear off about being overly affectionate when Tsireya was around, faking intimacy. You nodded in agreement listening to his every word, ignoring your racing heart.
So, whenever Tsireya drew near Lo’ak took your hand easily, his larger four fingered hand wrapped around your smaller one. His shoulder flesh against your own. At dinners or evening lunch, he sat beside you. His thigh pressed against your own, and his arm wrapped around you, hand resting against your waist. Like it belongs there, and you believe it did, for a fleeting moment.
His thumb brushed against your skin warm and absent, the sudden action caused your breath to hitched. You hoped he didn’t notice, so you snuck a glance at him to check. Lo’ak didn’t notice, in fact he was staring past you. Face heavily satisfied as he leaned down, close to your ear whispering. “It’s working.”
Your heart dropped, the small fantasy had shattered. You nodded along, smile picture perfect playing your part. Leaning close, to pretend to listen to whatever he said. Smiling shyly, painting the picture that you were shy under his attention and display of affection.
But the moment Tsireya looked away, feeling she had seen enough. Lo’ak would pull away, smooth and easy. Like holding you was a chore, something he was being forced to do. His warmth lingered on your skin, the absence of him palpable, yet he sat right beside you. Biting your bottom lip harshly, you blinked rapidly fighting back the tears.
And this continued, heartless display of affection on Lo’ak part. His eyes darting over your head into the distance to see Tsireya watching to make sure she did. Whenever she looked away, he would slip away again, boasting about the plan once again.
You on the other hand gave him nothing but affection, it wasn’t something you could fake. Your wiped sand from his eyebrows after he would play around with Roxto. Wiped at his mouth whenever he got messy or admired his hands idly playing with his pinky finger. But it was only when Tsireya was around. When she would disappear, you would pull away.
Each time it left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you continued to swallow your feelings. Playing your part, giving a fake perfect smile whenever he looked your way. Ignoring the chaotic spiral that raged in your heart. But, at night in the dark of your home, you would lay in your hammock eyes burning tears falling slowly down your face, soft hiccups filling their air.
Only a little longer, than you can try to move on.
A little longer went on for weeks, with each passing one there was a subtle shift. Not in you, but in Lo’ak. He became attentive, more than before. It was small things. Him mending your home when you complained about the creaking wind to Kiri. When you did chores, he lingered even after Tsireya had gone away, saying he had nothing to do. Sitting with you while your made leather bracelets with his sisters even when he didn’t take part in the activity.
Wirh each act, you heart raced against you rids. His lingering presence giving you hope. Even so, you still buried your feelings.
“Come on.” You groaned frustrated. The clan laughter and chatter carried through the wind, everyone settled to eat the food cooked. Yet here you were dragging in the fish nets after loosing a race on your ilu. Arms burning, dripping with sweat mixed with water, you released a frustrated huff.
Irritation bubbling, you mentally noted to never race against your friends again. Lost in your emotions you didn’t notice the soft brush of fiber around your ankle until it was too late. Tugging harshly at the net, you unknowingly tightened its hold on your ankle. Suddenly, your axis tipped, gravity dragging you down rapidly to the water. You gripped the net; arms tangled in it. Pulling it close to your body, arms against your chest. Your eyes were closed tight bracing yourself for the impact.
It never came, instead your felt a warm strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flat against their chest with ease. Startled, you whipped your head around meeting his amber eyes, watching you intently. His chest rapidly raising and falling, “why are you dragging these nets alone?” He said breathless. Blinking, you were curious too curious not to ask. “Did you run here?” Lo’ak ignored your question shifting your weight in his arms making sure you were standing up right.
Once sure, Lo’ak began untangling your hands, while you blinked up at him. Face a steady flush purple without realizing. Then, he knelt in front of you in the cool water reaching for your calf. His warm hand cradle it softly began untangling the fibers from your ankle. You stared down at him, watching as he worked silently. Your pulse quickened beneath your skin. Stop, your scolded yourself. Finally getting your out of your entanglement, Lo’ak took it upon himself to draw the fish nets in refusing to let you do it yourself. When he finished, he took your hand leading you to the evening feast. There was barely anyone around, so you didn’t think you needed to hold hands.
“Lo’ak theres no need—
“Who knew you were such a gentleman?” Neteyam voice cut in, teasing. “Shut up.” Lo’ak shot, gently pulling you forward to walk ahead of him. Neteyam walked with you two as you got the food prepared by the cooks. Lo’ak took it upon himself to get both your food, despite your quiet protest. “He ran so fast to get to you.” Neteyam whispered, your face flushed with a familiar warmth despite your self scolding. Before you could suffer any more, Lo’ak arrived beside you, nudged his older brother. “Bro go away.” He snapped, kicking at Neyetam due to his full hands. Backing off, Neteyam grinned bidding you goodbye.
Handing you the food, the both of you sat down to eat a bit further from the others, just you two. “You didn’t answer my question.” Lo’ak voice broke the silence, pulling your attention from the children who ran around burning the last of their energy, amongst them was little Tuk. “What question?”
“Why were you pulling in the nets alone?” He repeated, eating at his food waiting for your reply. “I lost a race against my friends.” You huffed. Lo’ak raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a smirk. “You always lose races,” he teased biting back his chuckle. “I know, but they managed to convince me and I lost.” You groaned letting your food sit against your lap warm. “You need to get better at riding. I can teach you.” He shrugged causal. “Right, the boy who flew off on his first ride.” You giggled. Lo’ak rolled his eyes groaning, “No one lets me live that down.” Conversation flowed easy, his laughter bright and genuine, gold eyes kind ans focused on you. Smiling, you felt a tug at your heart, a reminder that he is still your friend. Despite the situation and your silent love, you valued your friendship with him.
Lo’ak looked at you, admiring the way the soft fire light highlighted the curve of your face. The swell of your cheeks as your smile widened, eyes shining with such tenderness he wondered if it was truly for him. Then his gaze flicked behind you at Tsireya, who sat with Aonung. Already staring in his direction, watching him sit and laugh with you. Lo’ak stared back. Watching as her face flushed looking away shyly, she pretended to speak with Aonung who looked at her confused. Lo’ak chewed slowly, then his eyes returned to you.
Not noticing his wandering gaze, you own returned to watching the kids run around. The faint firelight showing, a striking contrast of cool blue and warm, against your skin. The flickering flame reflected in your eyes, the small sparks the glided through the crisp air looked like dancing stars. Feeling his heavy gaze, you turned to him. Meeting his eyes, your smile never left instead it softened more holding the same tender light from before.
But this time, Lo’ak knew it was directed to him only. Upon the realization, Lo’ak heart spiked so hard it shocked him causing him to choke on his fish, he coughed desperately to clear the blockage. Worried, you moved closer knee brushing against his thigh, hand resting against his back warm and gentle. “Are you okay?” You asked, concerned.
Lo’ak nodded still coughing, ears flushed at the tip. Hyper aware of the brush of your knee and the caress of your hand. Not convinced you reached over to where your cup sat full of cool water and held it out for him to drink. Taking the cup, his fingers brushed against yours sending a shiver up your arm that you forced yourself to ignore.
Drinking the water in big gulps, Lo’ak cleared his throat one final time. “Thanks.” He said voice uncharacteristically gruff and muted, making you chuckle. “No problem. You can't go dying on me when your plan isn’t finish.” Lo’ak nodded quickly. The plan, right.
After dinner, Lo’ak walked you to your mauri, your hand in his. Even once out of sight of other clan members he hadn’t let go. So, to save yourself from further pain you slipped your hand away and he let you. His soft apologizes filled the still quiet air. Making it home, he gave a gentle “Goodnight.” And you returned it before quickly entering your home. Punishing your heart and mind for trying to make a big deal out of nothing. That night you laid in your hammock, the sway soft felt like a lullaby. Staring at your ceiling, the calm that surrounded you was a sharp contrast to the chaotic storm in your mind and heart. Constant battles of what ifs verses what is. Eyes closed tight, you pull the thin cover over your body. Repeating to yourself over and over that it’s not real. Telling yourself to hold out a little longer.
The village had begun preparations for the hunting trip, gathers moved in groups getting more fruits and herbs for the hunters to take on the trip. You were amongst them, working tirelessly to make sure they had enough for the days they would be away. Climbing trees and dropping fruit down or being the one to carry it back full baskets.
Lo’ak stood with other hunters, drowning out the brief as his eyes caught your figure. You stood in front of a stacked pile of full baskets of fruit. Your hands moved through your hair gathering most of it and pulling it into a bun. A few strands fell free, brushing against your shoulder and neck. Lo’ak unblinking watched as you lifted the heavy baskets, grip tight at the handles. The tense of your arms straining under the weight. Noticed the bruising forced you used resting the basket against your hip as you walked down the woven path.
His tail swayed behind him, ears twitching as he fought the urge to help you. Instead, he chose to stare, watching your every step to assure you don’t fall from the weight distribution. His gaze followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore. Neteyam looked over at Lo’ak, noticing he was distracted. Shaking his head, he reached for the back of Lo’ak neck gripping it firmly pulling him closer to him. Lo’ak released a low hiss slightly hunched over, “So what, you’re staring at Tsireya now?” Neteyam questioned. Lo’ak eyebrows furrowed, frown deep. “What? No.”
The moment his words settled into his mind, he was shocked. He didn’t mean to sound so offend; he shouldn’t even be. Glancing over his shoulder he hadn’t even noticed Tsireya also helping. Moving just as quickly, and carrying the same weight as you, but Lo’ak still failed to notice her. Because he was too focused on you. Neteyam released him, nudging him a clear sign for him to focus.
Later, the sun had calmed, you were crouched on the woven floor, the gathering tent left empty for you to work, making small kits for the hunters. Hair in the same bun, stray curls fell from the band, sticking to your neck and face. The call of your name got your attention; you looked up to find the source. Standing at the entrance, was Tonul, a hunter, one of many to go on the trip. “Hello Y/n.” He greeted walking into the shelter of the tent, he crouched beside you, smile charming. You returned the greeting, giving him a polite smile. “You’ve been working hard,” his gaze turned to the kits you were preparing.
“You all leave soon; I can't waste precious time.” You said, shifting your focused back to your work. He hummed lowly, “I will be quick then.” He moved his hand forward, the one he had hid behind his back when he first walked in. In his palm laid a shell, transparent and glistening. Every shift showed a different color, truly beautiful. “A gift for you.” He said eyes watching you carefully. Ears pinned back in sympathy, you opened your mouth to decline but a strained voice cut in.
“She doesn’t want it.”
Startled both you and Tonul turned to see Lo’ak standing there, features hard in a glare. Golden eyes darting between the two of you until landing on Tonul who opened his mouth to retaliate, but Lo’ak beat him to it. “She is with me. Or have you not heard.” Lo’ak taunted walking into the tent, shadow towering over Tonul. “Get out.”
Grumbling under his breath, Tonul left the tent leaving you two alone. Lo’ak watched him go, tail flicking behind him sharply, ears pinned to his hair. “Lo’ak, he is gone. You don’t have to act, nobody is here.” You softly said, watching his clenched fist. Exhaling slowly, he looked down at you. Face softening, he crouched beside you, taking one of your hands into his. He turned your palm over, noticing the scars and blisters that began to form. It was than you noticed the vial in his hand. “Lo’ak?”
Opening the vial, he began applying the cool soothing salve to both your hands, massaging it into your skin gently. Too gentle, too soft for this to be fake. You hated him a little for the softness he used with you. Not truly, you could never. You just hated how easy it was for him to be tender. “You don’t need to do this.”
“Your need a break. Form dragging those fish nets, to helping with gathering and now making these kits.” He cut in.
Your pulse jumped at the concern laced in his voice, but you bit back the feeling, frowning softly. “You should’ve saved it for her. Tsireya was working with me. She would’ve need this instead, that was you chance to be alone with her at least.” At the mention of her, his fingers stalled, you half wished you didn’t mention her. But you had too, your mind was tricking you, your heart was being swayed by this lie. So, you had to ground yourself in the reality that this won’t ever happen. The way he was treating you is too good to be true. The line is beginning to blur. “You need it. Your hands will bleed.”
“Everyone hands are nearly bleeding.” You replied. “I’m not looking at their hands.” He whispered, under his breath not meant for you to truly catch. But you did, and you wish you didn’t. Because this was supposed to fake, a lie. And right now, it didn’t feel like it.
He is getting too good at lying. You thought.
“It has to dry, so you can’t do anything.” Blinking you looked down at your work and then to your hands. “What? Lo’ak, I have to finish these.” You whined feeling the cooling sensation of the salve on your hands. He met your eyes, grinning at your small pout. “That’s why I’m here. I’ll help just tell me what to do.” He sat comfortably knee brushing yours, skin buzzing you shuffled away a little just for Lo’ak to move close again. Choosing to ignore that you began instructing him, the two of you finishing the kits in no time.
Children ran through the village, sand kicking up and laughter carefree in air. Smiling, you lifted the basket high in the air as Tuk and one of her friends ducked underneath chasing after their older brothers who prepared their skimwings. “Will you get me something from the market?” She pleaded, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Lo’ak groaned, “Tuk, Neteyam already agreed to get you something.” He looked at his little sister, tired of her constant pleading.
“That’s from teyam. Not you.” She clarified hands on her hips, attempting to mimic her mother stern glare that always worked. Lo’ak shook his head, smiling as he rose form his crouch hand going to Tuk hair ruffling her braids. “Fine. I’ll get you something.” Tuk grinned happily, showing her little fangs. Thanking Lo’ak she ran to her friend who had also convinced her older brother to get her something too.
Shaking his head, Lo’ak approached you, hovering near as he smoothly took the basket from you. Helping you hand out the kits to the other hunters. His own already strapped to his skimwing. “Still working.” He said shifting his weight to be closer to you. “This is it. I will rest after you all leave.”
Lo’ak chuckled, shoulders moving briefly as he stared at you, head tilted to catch your eyes as you grabbed the final kit handing it to the last hunter. “You want me gone that fast huh?” He teased. Rolling your eyes you took the basket from Lo’ak, “No, but this is perfect opportunity for you.” You said walking ahead. Lo’ak eyebrow quirked, confused. He followed after you, tying his hair in his woven band. “What is perfect?” He asked.
Sitting the basket with the other spares, you stood straight dusting your hands off before gasping his forearm, leading him a little further away to talk. His muscles tensed under your touch. “At the market, while you are getting something for Tuk,” you smiled thinking of the bossy girl. “Get something for Tsireya.” You stopped in front of him, pitching the idea. Lo’ak stared at you, face neutral as silence filled the air. “What?” You questioned, not expecting that reaction.
“Why now?”
“Why not now?” You countered. “She’s been looking, trying to catch your eye nonstop. She’s going to confess. You’ll get what you want.” Lo’ak frowned, thinking of when he first came to you with this plan. When he felt it was one of his most desperate attempts to get Tsireya attention. But now, he didn’t even think of it. He opened and closed his mouth words failing him when your eyes shifted to behind him. You saw Tsireya approaching, you looked to Lo’ak. You smiled at him, strained and untrue. He knew that smile, it had been directed to him one too many times, and never did he notice the strain until now.
“Don’t mess this up skxwang.” You teased, nudging him pitifully as you stepped away. Lo’ak watched your back, ready to follow after you. To take your arm and pull you back to talk. Your name rested against his tongue ready to call out—
“Lo’ak.”
Her sweet voice fills his ears, tail twitching he faced Tsireya. Her smile shy and soft as she stared up at him, hands behind her back, doe eyes bright. “Do you have a moment?” She asked sweetly, and Lo’ak shoulders dropped nodding simply.
Watching from afar, you exhaled shakily realizing this was it. You played your part, did what you agreed to. And along the way, you enjoyed the fantasy you got to live in. Even if the moments were brief before reality came crashing down on you. You smiled, eyes full of pain and a soft tenderness.
You had to let him go.
Breaking the surface, he gripped the rope tightly urging his skimwing towards the nearby shore. Once there, with the other hunters they heaved the large kill to the shore. Together they worked skinning the creature harvesting the meat and bones. Throughout the entirety of the skinning, Lo’ak gripped his knife tightly, knuckles white. His lips curled into a deep frown, eyebrows furrowed. He remained silent the entire hunt and skinning which was unusual. Neteyam hovered but didn’t say anything, watching his little brother closely.
The group came across the market; the wind traders set up took up the neighboring village their big blue creatures floating in the sky. Neteyam walked the market, getting things for Tuk and Kiri, even for his mother. Lo’ak lingered behind, giving nods and mumbling responses. Sighing Neteyam drew him in, arm around his brother shoulders. Lo’ak head snapped towards him. “What?” He asked annoyed.
“You’ve been frowning for hours. What is wrong?” Lo’ak stayed under his brother arm mumbling a nothing. Neteyam clearly didn’t believe him but didn’t ask anymore. “I won’t push you. But lighten up, go buy something.” He gave Lo’ak guiding push watching as he walked away. “Don’t forget something for Tuk!” Neteyam yelled, Lo’ak raised his hand, in acknowledgment.
He walked the woven paths, finding something for his sisters easily. Walking around absentmindedly, his mind was adrift, remembering the woven necklace that sat in his bag gifted to him by Tsireya. His efforts had paid off; she had noticed him. Had gifted him a courting gift, to signal the beginning of something he has always dreamt of. Yet, he didn’t feel happy about it, just uneasy and frustrated. Still, he looked for a gift for her, because he felt like he had to. Something pretty enough, something good enough to be a token of courtship.
Just as you suggested.
Looking over the treasures, Lo’ak hadn’t found anything suitable for Tsireya. Then something caught his attention, a necklace piece. Woven through with a deep blue kelp, small pale shells and violet stones. A perfect mix of the night sky and deep blue ocean. His hand moved before he could think, fingers ghosting over the woven piece, before taking it between his fingers.
A trader noticed and walking over. “Made from the kelp and shells found deep dangerous waters of the akula, the dye from the trees that tower in the little forest that resides around the vast ocean. Rocks found amongst the Omatikaya, the forest you know well.” Lo’ak hummed. “She would love this.”
A hunter, Leiey, known for her sharp eye and quick mouth. Stopped beside him, looking for something of her own, when she heard Lo’ak and inspected the piece with her own eyes. “That won’t suit Tsireya,” she said hairless brows furrowed. Lo’ak hand tightened around the necklace, protective. No, it didn’t suit Tsireya. Not her smile, nor her dimples. Not her other jewelry nor any of her tops. But it would suit you. He thought of your strained smile, tired hands yet kind nature.
“This one is perfect for her.” Leiey held a different necklace. Threaded thoroughly with shells and peals big and small, the woven fabric the same color of her eyes. “For Tsireya.” He said slowly, as if to forced himself to accept it, be proud that one of his dumb plans worked. He has finally won her attention his gift being a clear sign of that. Yet, he still grasped the necklace that made him think of you. Forcing the necklace into his hand, Leiey left proud of herself arms full of items. Lo’ak stared at the piece jaw flexing.
This is wrong.
“Come on they come back today!” Tuk tugged at your arm while you sat on the woven docks, where it all started instead now you were making a new top. You chuckled dryly, symbolic.
“Tuk, I don’t have to greet your brothers. You are plenty.” You said softly, laying your top against your lap to use your other hand to hold her small ones. “How about this, you go and meet your brothers and come back to me. Show me everything they got you.” You said trying to convince her. After thinking she nodded, “Fine. But I’ll bring Lo’ak back too you.” She quickly ran off. “No Tuk-,” the little girl had already run off. “Crap,” you sighed. You considered leaving the spot but that would result in Tuk being upset with you. So, you decided to stay, to face the music.
Lo’ak let his skimwing go, gliding smooth and quick through the water, hopping onto the woven pathway. His destination clear, steps determined but before he could get far, he was stopped. Her doe eyes met his own. “You returned safely.” She exhaled, smile soft. Tsireya. Lo’ak shoulders slumped expecting another. “Tsireya.” He grimaced, eyes darting around trying to catch your figure, but he couldn’t find you.
“Are you hungry? Ive prepared something for you.” She held out her hands resting against it a meal made by herself. Lo’ak gaze dropped to it, before looking to Tsireya again, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry.” He said quickly. Confused, Tsireya hands slowly dropped. “For what?” She asked uncertain, confusion dancing through her eyes.
“I can’t be with you. Can't let you court me, can't court you when I know my heart no longer belongs to you.” He admitted. Tsireya lips downturned, does eyes bigger with saddens. “I am really sorry. I thought I knew what I was getting into. I thought I knew what I wanted. But I didn’t, and now I do.”
Reaching into his pouch, Lo’ak retrieved the necklace she crafted for him. It was than she realized he hadn’t worn it and why. He held it out for her to take, and she did slowly. “I hope one of your suitors treat you well. Forgive me for leading you on. I don’t expect your forgiveness, that is up to you. But do know I am sorry.” He spoke truthfully, before walking past her. Dodging others, Lo’ak still couldn’t pin you down. Then he felt a tug at his tail. Whipping around, his eyebrows furrowed ready to yell at the one responsible, but his anger disappeared seeing his little sister.
“Tuk! Why did you do that?” He said moving his tail from her. “You were running so fast, I couldn’t keep up.” Lo’ak sighed, gaze returning to the crowd to look for you. “I want my gifts. I want to show Y/n.” Lo’ak ear twitched kneeling in front of her. “Y/n? Where is she?” He asked frantic.
“At the docks, her favorite spot to weave.” Grinning Lo’ak jumped up ready to go to you until his tail was tugged at again. “Ow! Tuk!” Lo’ak scolded this time.
“My gifts!” The young girl demanded. Lo’ak large hands rested against her shoulders turning her around. “Tell Neteyam to grab it for you. They’re in my bag, something for Kiri too.” He said fast leading Tuk to Neteyam before darting off. Heart hammering in his chest, loud and persistent your gift sat tucked away in his pouch. He hoped he’ll say the right words.
You heard his heavy, footsteps before you saw him. The rhythm matching your thumping heart, time for the music. His steps came to a slow halt a few feet away from you. His heavy breathing filled the quiet air, eyes falling on you.
“There you are.” He exhaled approaching slowly. Not sitting beside you causally like before instead he stood uncertain shifting on his feet. “Are you going to sit? Or keep standing there like someone is tugging at your tail?” You said not meeting his gaze. Releasing a short chuckled, he sat beside you keeping a little space. His gaze stayed on you flickering between your work and your side profile.
“To be fair, Tuk tugged at it twice.” He mentioned, finally meeting his gaze he noticed how neutral your face was. “Where is little Tuk?” You asked, expected the youngest sully more than her brother.
“Sent her off to Neteyam. I wanted to talk to you.” He said, fingers tapping an uneasy rhythm on the side of his thigh. “What is there to talk about? I can assume everything you're going to say Lo’ak.” You responded, looking down at your work again.
Lo’ak highly doubted that but chose not to speak it.
“You didn’t want to greet me?” He questioned pushing past your response. “I don’t really need to. I know Tsireya was waiting for you. Besides, our charade is up.” You met his gaze. “She got you something, you got her something. Your love is blooming.” You swallowed looking away quickly. In the three days he had been gone, you told yourself you would face him with dignity, yet here you were close to crying again.
“It is,” he dug the knife into your heart, you chewed the soft skin of your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. “But… not with Tsireya.” He said slowly, watching you closely waiting for your reaction. Frowning, you looked up at him confused. “Is there someone else besides Tsireya?” You said in disbelief. Lo’ak fought his smirk, “I don’t know fall for every girl I see if that’s what you're trying to say.” He chuckled, but it didn’t last his tail swayed behind him, nervous.
“I…I don’t want Tsireya anymore.” He confessed. You stared at him, trying to understand. The tide kissed your ankles, the cool water grounding but not enough to stop the storm that brewed. You chuckled dryly, almost threatening. Lo’ak ears twitched against his head, hand reaching for your own. “I know—
“No.” You snapped, swatting his hand away. Standing from the dock, your top slipped from your grasp onto the floor. Lo’ak followed. “You can't be serious Lo’ak.” You glared. “I am completely; trust me it’s been on my mind since I left. You have been on my mind.” You closed your eyes shaking your head.
“You,” you voice quivered hand in air willing yourself not to cry, not to take him by his tail and a tie a knot in it like Jake always threaten. “You don’t know how it felt holding your hand while your glanced over me looking for her. You didn’t feel the way the lump formed in my throat whenever you whispered to me ‘it’s working’. Don’t know what its like to be treated so tenderly, that you forget it’s a lie until I see you staring at her, standing with her. Looking at her in away I wished you looked at me.” Your eyes blurred, tears you’ve held back for so long, words you’ve never spoke to anyone spilling from your lips. Lo’ak flinched at every word, his heart clenching at your tear stained face.
“Y/n—
You shook your head violently, hiccuping. You hated that you were crying like this in front of him. But it was too late the pain had taken over, along with anger. “After all of that, you come to me to confess? To say you love me? That you see me?” You spoke in disbelief. Lo’ak shoulders slumped, defeated and hopeless before you.
“I do. I do see you, I do love you. Y/n please.” He begged trying to take a step forward, but you took one back.
“I’m sorry.” He muttered. “I…I didn’t know you…I’m stupid, an idiot. Please, you have to believe me.”
“I can’t Lo’ak.” Your eyes met his, tears still falling pain evident. All the words hidden behind your smiles plain as day. Lo’ak has never felt so blind, so stupid more than now.
“You are cruel Lo’ak Sully.” You spat turning on your heel leaving him alone standing their chest fallen.
Fuck.
Lo’ak, had a weird sense of déjà vu. As he returned from hunting, his kills heavy in his net, he saw you off in the distance. With your friends, sat on the sandy shore watching as they taught a class of kids. He stalled, admiring you from where he stood. Your face not strained, nor contoured into a frown like whenever you saw him past by. No hurt nor flicker of disappointment, instead you look relaxed. Longingly, he stared, heart aching in his ribs until Roxto nudged his side. “Bro, you good?” He asked concerned following Lo’ak line of sight until it fell on you.
“Yeah.” He said, distantly. Pulling the net higher resting the hold over his shoulder, the wet kills drenching his back. Lo’ak welcomed the sharp sting as the fiber pulled taunt at his skin. He deserved it.
At dinner, it was the same distance, and same cold shoulder. Instead of sitting beside you like he had for weeks on end, he sat with his family. He didn’t have an appetite, just sipping at his cup of water to avoid a scolding from his mother. Every second, his gaze would drift over to you. Watching as your sat quiet amongst your friends, not talking like you usually would. You picked at your food, not truly eating but pushing it around. It was then; you looked up your eyes locking with his. Lo’ak froze under your stare, his heart dropped to his stomach at being caught. But he didn’t look away it was the first time in a week you’ve looked at him without looking away seconds later.
Finally, you looked away telling you friends something than leaving. Lo’ak watched you go, heart screaming for him to follow. But his body didn’t move, he feared the same rejection from before. Feared making you cry again, he couldn’t live with himself if he did it again.
Unexpectedly, he was pushed catching himself he looked back to see Neteyam chewing normally as he grinned at him. “Go little bro. Before she makes it home and shuts you out more.” He encouraged. Chuckling Lo’ak rose quickly, thanking Neteyam under his breath as he ran after you.
Déjà vu returned to him. Third times the charm right, turning the corner on the woven path. Lo’ak saw you drawing nearer to your home. “Crap.” He whispered, his long stride carried him quickly along the path until he came to a halt in front of you. Startling you, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. “Lo’ak?” His name left your lips in one breath.
He exhaled, staring at you gaze tender. Tilting his head softly, he stood straight focused on you only. “I love you.” You frowned, looking away from him. “Don’t.”
“I love you.” He repeated, quieter yet still holding the same truth and determination. “It’s true. And I know I deserve the cold shoulder. I deserve your anger; I am completely undeserving of your forgiveness.” You gaze returned to him, noticing his clenched fist at his side as if he wanted to reach for you but knew better. “I asked you to help me. And you did, like the kind and loving person you are. Despite the pain you went through with each time we faked it, and I never noticed. Because I was selfish, and dumb still am. But I want to keep trying.” He said catching his breath quickly.
Silence followed thick between you, Lo’ak moved quickly hand trembling as he displayed the necklace he bought for you. “If I have to keep running after you I will.” He declared chest heaving, eyes waiting. You stood there, eyes darting between the necklace and his eyes. Shaking your head you let out a short laugh. Lo’ak didn’t smile, nor move. It felt like he was facing an akula all over again.
“Aren’t you tired of running?” You said. Lo’ak shook his head.
“Not when it comes to you.”
Staring up at him, the feelings you still hadn’t been able to escape held you captive. Reaching for the necklace, you held it in your hands carefully.
“I’m still mad.”
“I know.”
“I still love you, no matter how hard I try. These feelings have never left me. But I don’t now how to trust this, not yet.”
Lo’ak swallowed. “Don’t than. Let me earn it. I’ll work to fix what I messed up.” Heart clenching, the pain you hid for so long, felt bearable, fixable. Taking a step closer, Lo’ak froze where he stood eyes watching your every move. Hands raising to holding his cheek, warm and gentle. On your tip toes, you planted a soft brief kiss to his cheek, inches from the corner of his mouth. Pulling back, you meet his blown golden gaze.
“That’s all you get, for now.” You whispered. Lo’ak grinned. “For now.” He muttered, his hand coming up to his cheek where yours rested. Placing his larger one over it he leaned into your touch. “For now.” He repeated. A promise, precious and true. He won’t mess up this time.
If i had a nickel for every time a character that i cared so unbelievably deeply for died in the sea to a piercing wound, i would have two nickels. which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened twice right?
Hey! I really enjoy your writing,I’m not sure if your requests are open as of now but I’ve had this on my mind lately.
If it’s not a bother, could you write where Lo’ak likes someone else (maybe Tsireya) and asks the Reader to help make her jealous using the fake dating trope? He could slowly develop feelings for the Reader while they are going through inner turmoil, trying to act normal and hoping to move on.
It could include a scene where he displays jealousy toward another male getting close to the Reader (like someone expressing interest in them) while simultaneously acting like he’s just playing his fake role.
Alternatively, this could also work for Neteyam. He could express that he likes a certain girl because she can stand beside him in the future, completely oblivious to the fact that the Reader has loved him since they were children. It would follow the same plot mentioned before.
I would love for it to have plenty of angst (where we really go through it emotionally) but with a happy ending. Sorry for the long message, and thank you so much! ^_^
Ahhh! My first request I’ve been thinking of opening them up anyway. So yes I will happily write this for you.🤭 Love me sum angst with a happy endingggg
Been thinking about starting one of my Neteyam mini series. Like one or two chapters of each are written but I don’t now which to officially start. Imma leave it up to y’all 🫡
pairings: aged up neteyam sully x fem omatikaya reader
s: neteyam returns home late from his duties, and his mate wants to be near him
w.c: 751
a/n: inspired by that one scene from The Wind Rises it was so cute i had to write an neteyam version of it
Every step was an effort; the village was quiet with the soft hum of families readying for bed. Neteyam, after a quick wash in the falls arrived home, pulling the woven flap back he saw you, his beloved mate curled on the woven mat blanket loosely over you. On the table Neteyam had crafted with his own hands when you had first moved into the kelku laid his dinner wrapped securely in leaves.
His heart squeezed in his chest at the sight. Closing the flap, Neteyam moved quietly through the home, returning his weapons to the rack and removing his gear and accessories. He now stood bare, and comfortable in his home. Despite his quiet steps and careful movements, you shifted leaning up rubbing the sleep from your eyes as if you sensed his presence.
“Tìyawn? (love)”
Smile soft Neteyam knelt beside you planting a gentle lingering kiss to your temple. “Hi paskalin. Sorry for being late.(berry)” He moved back, hand brushing away stray hairs from your face. You mumbled a quick its fine, eyes opening completely to look at him. Neteyam hummed, “Go back to sleep, ok? I still have stuff to do. I’ll take you to the hammock.” He moved to wrap his arm beneath your knees, but you stopped him, hand at his chest.
“No, I will stay here until you finish.”
Neteyam opened his mouth to protest but stopped upon seeing your stubborn expression, he exhaled, amused.
“Ok baby.”
He moved to the table laying out papers lined with war plans and perimeters he was commander of. Shuffling closer, you lay close to the table, as close as you could get to Neteyam. From below you simply stared at him, admiring his soft features under the dim glow of the lamps.
“Eat, Teyam.”
You softly scolded pulling the blanket higher covering your shoulders. He hummed in response, accidentally forgetting about the meal. Reaching for it, he unwrapped the food you had prepared for him. Savoring the taste of it, you seasoned to his liking. “Thank you yawne. (beloved)” He moved towards you, bending low lips meeting yours in a soft lingering kiss. Finishing his food, Neteyam continued working fingers moving across the papers marking them.
Your hand moved from beneath the cover slowly against the floor, palm up and open. You wanted to hold his hand, want to feel him, and you felt selfish for it.
He was working and wanted to get it done as soon as possible so he could lie with you. Yet here you were being impatient and greedy. Sighing softly, your hand twitched in the air eyelids heavy with sleep, but you forced them open each time they threatened to close.
Catching your quiet sigh, Neteyam gaze flicked over to you and your tired state, then to your open palm. Getting the memo, his tail moved slowly to your hand, the ends of his tail brush against your palm ticking before moving along curling securely around your forearm. Your hand closed around it, feeing the warmth of him, and the firm grip he had on you—your heart jump for joy. You mumbled a quiet thank you, Neteyam smiled faintly, “Your welcome love.”
Eyes falling shut you asked voice thick with sleep and love, “Tell me about your day tiyawn.” Neteyam looked over at you, noticing your closed eyes, he smiled hands still at work as he told you about his day.
You listened, and replied when needed, and Neteyam also asked about your day. In your tired state you told him what you could, words often coming out slurred or late. Each time Neteyam face softens, finding your drowsiness adorable. The soft conversation filled the kelku—domestic. The low rumble of Neteyam chuckles mixed with his soothing voice, coaxed you further into sleep. His hand moved to rest on top of your head, leaning to kiss your forehead, he whispered “Sleep baby, I will join you soon.” He promised, thumb brushing softly over your forehead before pulling away. He watched you struggle to fight your sleep before finally giving in.
Thirty minutes later, Neteyam cleaned the table, blew out the lamp and finally joined you on the mat. Pulling you close to his chest he rested his cheek against your head, feeling him you nuzzled closer nose brushing against his chest. Neteyam chuckled lowly, “Goodnight baby.” You mumbled a sleepy reply in return, closing his eyes, Neteyam smiled to himself. The two of you found slumber and solace in each other’s arms.
pairings: neteyam sully x fem omatikaya reader
s: neteyam is shy
w.c: 1.3k
“I want to court you.”
Never did you expect Neteyam, son of Toruk Makto, prince of the Omatikaya. The young man who walked the village face serious at every turn to stand before you, ears twitched back purple at the tips and tail swishing rapidly. Usually, stoic features are now sheepish. Holding out a beautiful, crafted necklace for you to take. Smiling softly, your hand brushed his, Neteyam tensed under your feather like touch.
“I accept.”
News carried fast throughout the clan, Neteyam had claimed you as his mate to be. Under the attention you noticed how Neteyam kept his mask up, never wavering under the praises or when his friends teased about him becoming a man. He would scold them telling them to behave, though the purple tint of his ears showed clearly what he was hiding.
Neteyam was respectful and sweet when it came to you. Gifts laid at you kelku every morning, after every hunt he gave you the choice cuts prepared by himself. In passing he would help you with whatever you needed, and almost every day he added new crafts to your growing collection.
As sweet Neteyam was, you also noticed certain things.
Like when you asked him to tie your necklace around your neck, he hesitated causing you to look at him confused before he complied. At dinners when you sat with him, he kept space between you two, never touching but near enough that you were aware.
Or when he would graze your hand accidentally, he would pull away, face flushing gold eyes looking anywhere but at you. Struggling to remain neutral, he would mumble a quick sorry and create more space between the two of you.
And whenever you caught him staring at you, whether it was beside you or from afar he would turn away. As if he was caught looking at something he shouldn’t have, as if you weren’t already his.
A thought circled your mind, but your suspicions weren’t confirmed until a certain communal dinner.
You sat beside Neteyam, that same space between you two as you ate the food Neteyam had given you moments prior. His gaze lingered on you longer than usual. Feeling the weight of it, you turned your head to ask what was wrong. But the question died on your tongue, as you watched Neteyam reach out thumb brush lightly against the corner of your lips, wiping away the excess grease from the meat you had eaten. Stilling under his touch, you stared at him, noticing the way his amber eyes linger on your lips.
You were silent under his attention, not wanting to scare him off. Then Neteyam realized, and yanked his hand back quickly, muttering rapid apologies and excuses to get you more water and food. His long stride carried him away from you, across the communal fire his golden gaze avoiding yours at all costs. Instead of feeling offended or overthinking the reaction you grinned to yourself.
He is shy.
You took this newfound information and ran with it.
“Teyam!” The nickname slipped from your lips easily, Neteyam straightening at the call of his name turning away from the other warriors who smirked and nudged at each other. In your hand was a meal prepared by Neytiri.
“Your mother asked me to bring this to you.” His eyes flickered to the wrapped meal before returning to you. “Thank you.” He said quietly, reaching for the meal completely missing the mischievous glint in your eyes and the bite of your bottom lip.
Quickly, your hand shot out to his bicep. Pulling him down easily, your lips meet his cheek in a lingering peck. Staying there against him you muttered a soft welcome before pulling away. Neteyam froze in shock, his friends cheered behind him while he noticed your teasing smile. Finally, he saw the mischief that radiated off you, tail swaying happily as you skipped away.
From then on you pushed his buttons trying to get him to see past his shyness.
When he created distance, you close it.
When his hand grazed your own, you were quick to take it.
Whenever he sat beside you busy, your hands would find his braids scratching his scalp softly behind dragging your hand through them. Each act caused the same reaction; his flushed ear tips—and you loved it.
It was late, the two of you were walking back after a late gathering session before heading home. Walking along the path, you noticed how Neteyam lagged just half a step behind—his protective nature.
“You know,”
Your voice filled the quiet, already having Neteyam attention from your first inhale. “You can touch me.”
Neteyam foot caught on an overgrown root, stumbling forward he was quick to catch himself. Hand tightened around the basket check the materials.
“What?”
You stopped walking facing him, hands clasped behind your back.
“You keep a distance, I notice it.”
“I am being respectful.” He stood tall still keeping a safe distance from you.
“It is really respectful if you go against my wishes?” Neteyam opened his mouth to reply.
“You like me do you not?” You cut in, taking a step closer.
“I—
“Because if you do, wouldn’t you want to be close to me.”
Neteyam mouth closed ears twitching against his braids. He mumbled something you couldn’t catch. Closing the space completely, you stood in front of him staring up, eyes telling him to speak again. Sighing he looked away from you, face growing steadily purple at your proximity.
“I do not want to be clingy.”
“What?” You chuckled in disbelief.
“I have to keep up my reputation. I can’t act on my every need to touch you.” He turned to you, golden eyes sincere and honest. “And if I did, I wouldn’t want to be rid of your presence at all.”
You giggled, forehead leaning against his chest ears catching his rapid heartbeat. “So, you refrained from touching me in general?” You said against him, feeling the way his chest stuttered as your breath fanned against his skin.
“Yes.”
Looking up, your hand moved to his neck holding him while your other moved to his free hand guiding it to your waist. His hand twitched instinctively, holding you before releasing, you kept him there, grip firm against his wrist.
“You are allowed to indulge Teyam.”
He swallowed, finally holding you more firmly, hyper focused on how it felt to have you in his hands. He wanted to toss the basket from his hip and hold you closer to his body, to feel you. Shaking his head, he attempted to clear his running thoughts.
“Even if I want this all the time?” He asked. Rolling your eyes, you got on your tip toes, planting a quick kiss to his lips sending his brain in a spiral.
“Whatever you want of me you can take.” Returning to moss floor, you noticed the bioluminescence glow of the forest burning brighter signaling how late it was. Intertwining your hand with his, you led Neteyam to the village.
“Can I have another?”
“Another what?” You tease, the urge to toy with him seemed to never go away. “You have to be clear Teyam.” He groaned, squeezing your hand.
“You know what I want.”
Giggling, you replied, “Did I not say you can take whatever you want of me?” Neteyam grinned, tail wagged behind him without control, excited for the endless things he could ask of.
—
“Come on bro, don’t you want to go out or something?” Lo’ak groaned standing at the entrance of your kelku.
Neteyam sighed against your shoulder. He sat in his usual place behind you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, chest pressed against your back. Strong arms encircled around your waist drawing shapes against your skin, while you worked on repairing his armband that had been worn down over the past few months.
“No, I do not. Now, leave me to be with my mate skxwang.”
Shaking his head, Lo’ak muttered under his breath something about Neteyam being clingy, he ignored it completely. Body relaxing against you, his tail now wrapped securely around your thigh.
