[syurina]

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[syurina]

sorry for neglecting my ongoing neteyam fic- expect an update v soon >:3

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[syurina]

 ⋆˙⟡ — neteyam x human!reader (wc: 1.2k)

tossing and turning, you were one of the first rda scientists to spend a night in the campsite. you knew better than to roam the forest at night, but there was a specific shade of gold you couldn’t shake off your mind. a glistening green, mixed with yellow, depending on how blue the sky was and the density of the green leaves around him. 

you held the amulet your na’vi friend gave you. you couldn’t remember the last time anyone had gifted you anything, much less the last time someone took time out of the day to craft something just for you. it was a small amulet, something no na’vi could’ve worn, much less a warrior. it was made with you in mind. darkness filled the room, there wasn’t a single light that could outline the shape of your gift, yet you could see it perfectly. 

you could’ve closed your eyes and still have seen it–and the giver. how his softened expression made him unrecognizable in comparison to the na’vi who had once looked down at you and pointed his bow ready to attack. you could see his pupils dilated at your laugh like he was taking a picture of you with his eyes. tall and imposing, yet careful with every step in a way that leaned towards gentility rather than caution. 

then came the thought of the other na’vi. the moment you accepted the gift was the moment you felt brave enough to ask for his name. not because you had any intention of sharing it, but out of the intimacy of being able to call his name. ma na’vi was no way to call a friend. you’d offer your name in hopes he would reciprocate. but the opportunity never came. it was quickly erased by the panic of another set of yellowish green eyes. clouded over by the worry of more na’vi beginning to cross the boundary–boundary you had crossed yourself many times. 

“why are you here?” you heard a voice from behind. an all-too-familiar voice. it was entirely like him to sneak up on you without giving you a single clue of his whereabouts. you froze in your spot. “i couldn’t sleep,” there wasn’t much you could say before he kept going. “it’s dangerous out here at night. if it’s dangerous for na’vi, it’s deadly to you. if you can’t sleep, then walk around the campsite. you’re not supposed to be on this side of the forest anyway.” 

finally turning your body around to face him, you looked for him in his usual spot: up on a tree. he was right behind you, the only thing separating you was pandora air and a few meters. “if it’s dangerous for na’vi then why are you here? shouldn’t you be asleep?” he smiled. 

the two of you took a walk together, this was the only time of day when no one would be timing your strolls, no one would be expecting you anywhere anytime soon. work the next morning would be a nightmare, but the euphoria you felt at this moment was sure to carry you through the day–the week, even. you walked side by side ashe spoke. you had never heard him speak so much. it was usually you who would explain your ongoing research, ask him questions about both the vegetation and your use of the na’vi language. it felt like he knew everything about you, but you knew nothing of him–which you figured was probably safer.

this time, however, you stayed quiet and lent him a listening ear. his voice was calm, slow because every word was intentional, and his tale was just as you had expected. he told you about his family life, never naming names or giving too much away. from what you could gather, he was the son of a mighty warrior. possibly someone with a high rank in the community, which put a heavy weight on his shoulders. he came from a big family, which probably made him the eldest if he was carrying such a burden.

he had dreams of becoming a mighty warrior, leading like his father and fighting with his mother’s strength. he knew every single one of his aspirations would fall into place as long as he kept staying above expectations: talented warrior, spiritually aligned, with a strong and unwavering heart. 

every once in a while, you’d interject. only when he paused, you’d comment on the various moons of pandora. you named every single one of them despite suspecting he already knew them. other times, you’d reassure him that although you didn’t know too much about him, you had no doubts of his capabilities and strength. when the silence lingered for just a bit longer than it had, you took it as your turn to speak. 

“my name is (y/n), by the way. i don’t expect you to remember, or care, or do anything with it, but i-” he cut you off, “(y/n)?” he asked. both of you stopped walking, he said your name a few more times, looking at you for confirmation that he had it right. then he asked, “does it have a meaning?” shaking your head, you told him human names had meanings, but it wasn’t all that common for people to know said meaning. he nodded along, and you clarified you expected nothing out of having told him your name. if anything, it was an offering of sorts; he had shared so much of himself in one night, you felt like you needed to give him something of yours. 

“if i tell you my name, you can cause a lot of damage with it,”he began. you reiterated that there was no need for him to share something he was not ready for or outright did not want to. his companionship, the time he spent with you was more than you could ever ask for. 

you didn’t notice when you had circled back to the campsite, only upon seeing it did you realize you had blindly followed a na’vi warrior at night. he had no reason to bring you back safely, nor did he have any reason to give you the time of day. god knows what he could’ve done with your trust in a forest as dangerous as this one. instead, he opened himself up to you, promising to come back another night since it was his brother who had followed him during the day. 

“that was your younger brother? or do you have an older brother?” you asked. he paused, like he was really thinking about his family tree. “the eldest in my family is neteyam,” he said. a name. his brother’s name, you assumed. you asked once more, “so you have an older brother?” he shook his head, “i’m the oldest, and i will come back. in two nights, (y/n).”

neteyam, who had aspirations to become a strong leader and excellent warrior. neteyam, who sought to honor his parents’ legacy in everything he did, and yet continued to risk his life to come meet you–a human whose name he didn’t even learn until nearly a year into knowing her. neteyam, who endured constant teasing and speculation about who he could possibly be making amulets and armbands for. neteyam, who kept his promise and met you two nights later.

pt 1 2 3 4 5 6

taglist: @aruscape @k----a27s

[syurina]

⋆˙⟡ — neteyam sully x metkayina tsakarem!reader (wc: 2.2k)

you yelled his name upon seeing his ikran messily drop him in front of the healer’s tent. as tsakarem, you were accustomed to seeing warriors continuously come to your mother for help treating their wounds–many which you aided with as far as identifying which herbs to use or other methods of treatment. you had never been the squeamish type, if anything, you were well regarded in your clan for having a strong head on your shoulders, never losing focus, reacting well under pressure. you were sure to become a fine tsahik.

that was until you saw neteyam unconscious, shot by the sky people’s weapons, bleeding out before your eyes. 

“you told me yourself, near death wounds can be healed through tsaheylu with their tsahik.” walking in circles, it was uncertain whether you followed after your mother or if she paced away from you. ronal shook her head profusely, neteyam was a forest na’vi and it was much too late to bring mo’at to him. “besides, he’s too young, hasn’t made tsaheylu before. we don’t know what effects could come from such a ritual,” she argued. your voice broke as soon as you tried to raise it–”we must do something, he is going to die!”

other healer apprentices tried to bargain with you, taking him in and placing medicinal herbs and other ointments on the wound. perhaps the solution didn’t have to be so severe. a tsahik bonding with a wounded na’vi wasn’t entirely unheard of, but it wasn’t common either. it was frowned upon, a last resort to save a warrior’s life. there was usually a special paint worn by the spiritual leader and specific chants–a ritual in its entirety, with the clan coming together as one and transferring their strength to the wounded. 

the only time apprentices left the tsahik’s tent was to let her bid her goodbyes. let the family in, and send the wounded to eywa with a prayer of sorts. you shed enough tears to overrun the metkayina reef, and everyone inside the tent silently exited. ronal was the only one left, she felt neteyam’s heartbeat getting slower by the minute. you pleaded, “tsahik,” you paused, “mother, please, i beg you.”

ronal eventually left the tent too, she knew the forest boy was in good hands. given your relationship, it made the most sense to leave you alone with him during his final moments. your ears flattened, thinking of the times it was him holding you. since his arrival to the reef, you had a strange affinity towards one another–eldest daughter of the clan’s tsahik meets eldest son of toruk makto. 

tsireya did most of the heavy lifting when it came to teaching the sullys the technical practices of the reef na’vi. she was an excellent ilu rider, bubbly and welcoming. tonowari knew she was the perfect host. you, on the other hand, took on the role of guiding the sully kids spiritually. showing them the way of the sea, unifying their forest practices with the reef’s relationship with eywa. you even went as far as teaching them which herbs were most commonly used in medicinal practices–a lesson that was closely listened to by kiri. 

outside of the outright duties presented to you as the sullys adapted to their new environment, you found yourself being sought out continuously by neteyam. he initially used any and all excuses to justify his interest. suddenly the role of a tsakarem was the most interesting thing in the world. 

you started to invite him to your night swims, “the sea is its most calm at night if you stay near the shore,” you smiled. he claimed to need practice holding his breath underwater. his explanations were never that convincing, and you would’ve let him tag along regardless. then, you invited him to come with you looking for medicinal herbs and ointments both underwater and on land. 

suddenly it wasn’t him asking to tag along with stupid excuses. suddenly it was you who needed the help of a mighty warrior to complete the same tasks you had done on your own since the dawn of time. both of you knew that wasn’t really the case–he was an excellent swimmer and you were resourceful beyond your years. nevertheless, you just wanted to spend time together. 

neteyam confided in you in ways he had never been able to with anyone. you revered toruk makto as much as anyone, but it didn’t blind you as much as it might have an omatikaya. you had a high standing of your own, you understood what it was like to try to live up to the tales of your parent. golden children of your respective clans, it wasn’t a secret that you grew quite close in a relatively short amount of time. 

you were the first metkayina na’vi to ride an ikran–with neteyam. you flew together in the mornings, swam together at night. there were whispers and suspicions growing as more clan members began to notice how every time they saw either of you, the other wasn’t that far behind. rumors that were quickly shut down by your mother, who reminded the people that as tsakarem, you were already promised to the young olo’eyktan in training. 

you laid on the sand with neteyam one night, hearing the ocean tides rise and wind down, no lighting other than the many moons of pandoran skies. the air was particularly dense, neteyam had made you a songcord of sorts, detailing your relationship from the day he arrived at the reef. both of you knew what a gift of that nature meant. you also knew what accepting it meant. 

neither of you dared to look at the other, you simply laid next to each other, in silence, looking up at the sky. “my dad came from a star, you know” he began. you nodded. you apologized for your mother’s behavior upon meeting his family, adding your disagreement in calling the sully kids half blooded. he assured you there was no need to speak of what had already happened. 

“surely you know i…think highly of you,” your voice was quiet, finally turning to look at him. his body faced the sky, but his face was turned towards you, “and my intentions have been made clear too.” 

you sat up and rested your face on your knees. he followed after you almost instantly. you smiled at him, opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to the punch. 

“i would like to court you, formally,” he paused, “i know you’re tsakarem, you have a path and a promised mate. i know you’re metkayina and my home is the forest, but i see you.” silence overtook both of you. he had spoken everything you had been dreaming of hearing since your very first meeting. 

he was the most fascinating na’vi you had met, the only one who made the commitment of mating for life feel exciting–worth looking forward to–and not burdensome. 

“and i think you see me,” he finished. you gave him no chance before you responded, “neteyam, i see you.”

both of you smiled at each other. the air that used to be dense cleared. a weight lifted off both your shoulders. the secret was out and there was no coming back from it. neither of you went back to your sleeping quarters. his arms covered you like a blanket and his chest became a pillow for you to rest your head on. asleep by the shore, he felt it was a privilege to have you so close to him. 

you shared your first kiss that night. 

it was just you and neteyam inside the tsahik’s tent, and the whole clan could hear your weeping, calling his name repeatedly hoping he would wake up. his chest was no longer a support, but a lifeline. you had the songcord he made you attached to your top, dangling from the left side of your chest symbolizing his closeness to your heart. after meeting neteyam there wasn’t a conceivable world in which you could go on without him. alone, shaking, feeling his breaths get increasingly shallow, you made tsaheylu. 

his pain was yours, and you saw the omatikaya forest’s ikranay, the hallelujah mountains, his first clean kill, how his father marked his height with a knife carving a tree trunk. you saw rda helicopters and how he saved his mother from an avatar soldier. you felt the butterflies he felt upon seeing you, finally seeing yourself through his eyes. his hours of practice swimming and trying to bond with an ilu so he could pretend to not know anything and impress you with his talent. 

the chants for this ritual were unknown to you in their majority. in between sobs and gasps for air, you spoke what you knew and begged for eywa’s intercession. you sang to the songcord he had given you, composing as you went, and taking the melody from neteyam’s songcord. you made it something that was as much yours as it was his. 

ronal recognized your chants instantly and rushed back into the tent to see her daughter’s kuru bonded to a dying warrior. “senseless child,” she began, hissing. “you have condemned him as much as yourself.”

“i couldn’t let him die, mother, he is one of the people,” she reprimanded you for your stubbornness, “you are tsahik!” in any other instance, you would have never dared to talk back, let alone raise your voice at your mother and clan leader. 

“i am tsahik and you have gone against me. you are not the boy’s tsahik, what authority do you have to perform such a ritual? na’vi have died because of it.” 

you continued chanting, singing, occasionally lowering your head to listen for his heartbeat. it wasn’t steady by any means, but it wasn’t declining at its previous rate. the bioluminescent dots all over his face and body lit up–there was hope. 

“if he wakes up, you will be bonded. there are duties as tsakarem that involve your mate, your life partner, you know this. he is a fine warrior, but you have forfeited your role as tsahik. a role that belonged to you by birth and skill.” ronal spoke with no answer other than your frantic prayers to eywa. neteyam’s heartbeat was picking up and his breath steadied back to how you had found him in front of your tent.

“he asked to court me and i accepted. i forfeited my role long before bonding with him, mother.” 

“there is no guarantee he truly saw you as his mate. he belongs in the forest, daughter! surely the time would come when his family would move back to the forest, and then what? do you suggest he takes with him a reef na’vi? a na’vi that her clan needs? what is to happen if he finds a forest mate? you’ve bonded yourself to him already. he will struggle as much as you.” your mother’s voice quieted with the last sentence.

it wasn’t that she only saw you as a successor to her legacy. ronal saw what you were capable of as a healer in your own right, you were destined for high regard. her eldest daughter, who inherited her father’s kindness and her mother’s fervor. any na’vi would be lucky to call her their mate. should toruk makto’s son not see the value in her, should he be nothing more than infatuated with her beauty…

“should he prefer a forest mate, then i shall free him of any bond. i am merely a healer trying to save his life.” 

the way you looked at neteyam said everything but. your flattened ears, tear-soaked face, quivering voice from the exhaustion of chanting and screaming; no tsahik would weaken themselves to this extent for any warrior other than their mate. ronal kneeled next to you, not as tsahik, but as your helping mother. she removed the tropical leaf with ointment from neteyam’s wound and replaced it with ointment alone. she helped you hold him so the wound wouldn’t be touched.

ronal smiled, neteyam began to take deeper breaths until he was outright gasping for air. every suspicion of hers proved right, only her most skilled apprentice could successfully perform such a ritual on her own and with no supervision. the forest warrior was alive and would gain consciousness any minute. she patted her daughter’s back and left the pair alone–as she would’ve liked had she been healing her mate. 

your whispers were still frantic from the panic; you couldn’t quite decipher if he was alive or if eywa played some sort of twisted joke. “neteyam,” you paused, “ma neteyam,” silence, “yawnetu?” you had never used terms of endearment before, but you were alone and now more than ever you knew he was your beloved. even if he later found another, even if the carefree mornings and tender nights meant no more than young diversion. nothing mattered as long as he was okay.

his eyes opened and wandered around until they landed on you. “yawnetu,” he said, which made you smile instantly. you laughed–nervously– relieved that he was awake and speaking. a part of you felt embarrassed that he might have heard your meltdown, and that his first sight was you at your worst. you hadn’t left his side a single moment, barely had any feeling in your legs since you had kneeled for so long. “ma neteyam, how do you feel?” 

you had a million questions to ask, was he in pain? what could you do to make him more comfortable? did he need you to run and get him fresh water?

all questions were answered the moment he spoke, “i see you.”

[vaniellea]

ɪꜱ ᴍᴀɴɢᴡᴀᴋᴀɴ ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ! ᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ?

You never thought you’d want him like this

an evil man who’s killed many of your people, a man who’s people has torn family apart. 

At first, it was just glances

him watching you from the corner of the room, terrifying eyes that usually made you uncomfortable, it made you feel like prey. You told yourself it was just part of the game, part of the power play.

But then he started talking to you. About things you really didn’t care about at the time—not just orders or commands, but conversations late at night when the rest of the clan was asleep. He’d bring you food, books that he would read to you in english, little things that made you feel less like a prisoner and you never really cared.

And then, one night, a lot more changed. 

The door creaks open, a low groan of wood against wood, and you don’t even look up at first because you really don’t care about anyone who enters, you just want to go home. 

You’re lost in your own thoughts, until a soft, wet sound, a muffled gasp, pulls you sharply back to the present. Your head snaps up, eyes wide.

Neteyam is there, framed in the doorway, but he’s not alone. Another Na’vi, her skin a deep, luminous blue, is pressed flush against him, her back arched, her head thrown back as their mouths are locked in a deep, consuming kiss. 

He’s already moving his legs between hers, guiding her further into the room with a possessive hand on her lower back, never breaking the kiss. 

Her fingers are tangled in his long, dark braids, pulling him closer, her hips grinding against his through their loincloths.

He lifts her with a grunt, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, her tail lashing softly against his thigh. 

And then, his eyes, those piercing golden eyes, find yours over her shoulder. A long, teasing smile, almost a smirk, spreads across his lips. 

It’s not a kind smile and he doesn’t look away. Not for a second. His gaze is locked on you, as he lays her down on the ground right in front of you, you can’t really read him because he’s simply not that easy to read.

He keeps staring straight into your eyes the entire time, never once breaking contact, while he hooks his fingers into his loincloth and slowly pulls the thin fabric down. 

His insanely thick, you can see as his cock springs free, already rock hard and throbbing, the swollen head glistening with precum as it points aggressively toward her.

You don’t understand why you’re so compelled to the situation, you try to keep your eyes directed to the wall. 

This wasn’t the first time two young adults in this clan used your room as an easy way to get away with having sex. 

The girl beneath him is so horny and needy, her legs spreading wide on their own, her dripping wet cunt visibly pulsing and leaking her slick juices onto the ground as she whimpers and begs with her body. 

Her hips lift desperately toward him, her swollen  lips parting invitingly, aching to be filled. 

Despite the beauty under him,he just can’t take his eyes from you.  his smile widening into a filthy, victorious grin, as he begins to thrust his cock into her, slowly at first, letting you see every inch of his glistening shaft stretch and disappear between her swollen lips. 

You can see everything: the way her slick juices coat his cock, dripping down her thighs in shiny strands, the way her tits bounce hard with each thrust, her nipples stiff and aching. 

He’s fucking her, right there, in front of you, the wet squelching sounds, the way her cunt lips grip and stretch around his girth, the way her body jerks and spasms under him. His gaze holds yours captive, a silent, triumphant claim that says she’s his to fuck whenever he wants, and you’re going to watch every filthy second of it.

The air in the room thickens, heavy with the scent of sweat and arousal. Each thrust from Neteyam is a grinding movement, rocking the other Na’vi against him, eliciting deeper moans that vibrate through the silence. 

Her head lolls back, braids swaying with the rhythm, her hands now gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. But his eyes? They never waver from yours. They’re a burning, golden challenge, reflecting the act he’s performing. 

A slow, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, a subtle tightening of his jaw, and a predatory smile remains fixed, unwavering. It’s as if he’s feeding off your gaze, drawing power from your forced witness, each deep penetration a direct message to you. 

You can see the sheen of sweat on his brow, the flex of muscles in his back, the way his hips drive into her, and with every movement, his eyes bore into yours, demanding that you acknowledge it, that you feel it. 

The sounds intensify – wet slaps of skin, ragged breaths, the other Na’vi’s cries growing more desperate, more urgent. 

He’s pushing her to the brink, and he’s making sure you’re right there with them, a silent, unwilling participant in his display of dominance. 

His tail lashes harder now, a whip against his leg, a primal punctuation to the escalating frenzy. And still, those eyes. They hold you captive, a silent question, a triumphant declaration, as he drives into her one last, shuddering time, a guttural roar escaping his lips as he spills into her, his gaze still locked on yours, a final, possessive smile curving his mouth.

The next morning, the air was thick with a different kind of tension. You sat huddled in the corner of your cage, eyes fixed on the rough ground, refusing to meet his gaze. When he approached, a bowl of some steaming, unfamiliar broth in his hand, you didn’t acknowledge him. 

The silence was a strong but breakable wall you built between you.

Neteyam chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that jumped through the small space. “Still sulking?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. He set the bowl down just outside the bars. “Are you jealous?”

You flinched, a barely perceptible tremor, but kept your eyes down. He knelt, his tail flicking idly behind him. “Come on,” he coaxed, “don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the show.” He paused, then his voice dropped, a teasing whisper. “Or maybe you just wanted to feel special?”

Still, you said nothing. The silence stretched, taut and heavy. He sighed, a theatrical sound, then reached a long, blue finger through the bars, hooking it around your ankle. He tugged, gently but firmly, pulling your foot closer, drawing it between the cold metal. You yelped, a sharp, involuntary sound, and kicked out, hitting him against his chest as you slit back to create any form of distance. 

He laughed, a genuine, unforced sound that wasn’t cruel, just amused. He settled back, resting his chin on his hand, his golden eyes fixed on you. “I know you enjoyed it,” he repeated. “Want to feel special?”

Your jaw was clenched, your gaze still stubbornly averted. “Hm?” he prompted, leaning closer. When you still didn’t respond, he pushed himself up, standing tall. Your eyes, despite your resolve, flickered up to him. He unfastened his loincloth and let it sit as his knees as his hand closing around his shaft, stroking it slowly. “Hm, you want this?” he asked, his voice a low growl, as he slid it between the bars, inches from your face. You stared,, unable to speak, unable to move, maybe a bit disappointed . He watched you for a long moment, then pulled back, re-securing himself. “You’re no fun,” he muttered, crouching again, a hint of genuine disappointment in his tone.

He offered the food again. “Are you hungry?” he asked. You shook your head, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement. He left the bowl anyway, retreating to the far side of the room.

Over the next few days, the pattern held. You remained silent, a stubborn, unyielding presence. He would bring food, sometimes try to engage you with a question or a comment, but your silence was absolute. 

Finally, on the fourth day, his patience seemed to snap. He strode to the cage, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he said, his voice sharper than before. “What can I do to get on your good side?”

You looked up then, your voice raspy from disuse. “Let me leave,” you said, the words a desperate plea. “And I might forgive you.”

He paused, his gaze distant for a moment, then a slow, wry smile touched his lips. “If you knew who I were,” he mused, almost to himself, “you might order a kill order.” He chuckled, a short, dry sound, and scratched the back of his head. “Who are you?” you asked, the question escaping before you could stop it.

He hesitated, a long, drawn out silence. His eyes searched yours, as if weighing something. 

Then, he told you. 

And you said nothing. 

The name hung in the air between you, a tangible weight, heavy with implications you couldn’t yet grasp. It was a name that resonated with power, with history, with a lineage that suddenly made his earlier taunts, his casual cruelty, take on a new, unsettling dimension. 

You didn’t respond, couldn’t. Your mind reeled, trying to reconcile the arrogant, teasing captor with the figure of authority that name evoked.

For a day, perhaps two, the silence returned, but it was different now. Less hostile, more contemplative. He still brought your food, still watched you, but the sharp edge of his gaze had softened, replaced by a curious intensity. And then, slowly, tentatively, he began to speak. Not about grand battles or his status, but about the small, everyday burdens of his life. He spoke of his family, the intricate web of relationships and duties that bound him. He spoke of his responsibilities, the crushing weight of expectation on his young shoulders, the constant pressure to prove himself worthy.

You listened, at first with suspicion, then with a grudging fascination. He wasn’t just a tormentor; he was a person, burdened by his own world, striving for something. You learned, surprisingly, about his simple, profound desire to make his mother proud, to live up to the legacy of his father. These weren’t the tales of a warrior, but the quiet anxieties of a son. And as he spoke, you found yourself, almost against your will, responding. Small comments at first, then questions, tentative explorations of his world, and in turn, he asked about yours. The cage, once a barrier, became a strange confessional. You found yourselves talking, truly talking, about things beyond your captivity, beyond the immediate power dynamic. The hours stretched, filled with the murmur of your voices, the quiet exchange of stories and perspectives.

One evening, the air was soft with the chirping of insects, a comfortable quiet had settled between you. You had been discussing the intricacies of Na’vi social structures, and a thought, long simmering, finally bubbled to the surface. You looked at him, really looked at him, seeing past the warrior, past the captor, to the complex individual beneath. Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, as you finally asked, “Do you have a mate?”

He looked at you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “No,” he said simply. “We don’t have mates, not in the way you think. We sleep with whomever we want to.”

You blinked, “What?” you breathed, the word a little amazed, a little weirded out. The concept was so alien to your own culture. “So… how many people have you laid with?” The question was out before you could censor it, a sudden, bold curiosity overriding your usual caution.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “Hmm. Stopped counting around… maybe six.”( seven ) He watched your reaction, that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. Your jaw dropped slightly. “Does that mean you have over six  ( seven )kids?” you asked, genuinely bewildered. 

He laughed outright this time, a rich, deep sound that filled the small space. “No… You can… what’s your word for it? Mate? Yes, you can mate with people without getting pregnant.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Want me to show you?”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t say anything, just stared at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. He watched you, his smile slowly fading, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “Wait… actually,” he said, his tone shifting, becoming more serious. He turned, fully facing you, his knees brushing against the bars. 

“I’m curious. Okay.”

You didn’t move, a strange mix of fear and a burgeoning, forbidden anticipation seizing you. 

His hand slips through the bars and his long fingers brush your knee first. They don’t rush but they drag upward, tracing the inside of your thigh lightly, but almost not enough. Your pulse kicks against your ribs, wild and uneven, while your stomach clenches like a fist and your breath lodges in your throat, thick and useless.

The flap of your loincloth catches on his fingertips. He tugs it aside with infuriating ease, then the thin strip beneath it follows, peeled away like nothing. 

The air hits you, helps you realize the situation, and your face flames, not just from the exposure, but from the way his gaze is locked onto yours, hungry, pupils blown so wide they swallow the iris. 

Then finally the pad of his thumb grazes the edge of your clit, barely there, but just enough to make your hips jerk. 

He traces the outer lips, up and down, and up and down again, skirting the center every time. 

Your fingers dig into whatever’s beneath you, nails biting into flesh, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Not when he’s watching you like this.

He starts to circle, slow and sideways, a maddening tease, while his other fingers slide between your lips, parting you just enough to spread the slick heat everywhere. 

Your hips rise of their own accord, chasing the pressure, and a broken sound spills from your throat. Your chest is a cage, lungs too small for the air you’re not getting.

He keeps at it. Thumb looping your clit, fingers working your entrance, spreading the wetness, the tension, until it’s all too much. 

You’re shaking, breathless, eyes screwed shut as the orgasm rips through you, violent, leaving you wrecked.

Over the course of the next few days, the conversations deepened. 

The cage felt less like a prison and more like a strange, intimate sanctuary. 

You learned more about the intricacies of their Na’vi life, their connection to Eywa, their complex social structures. 

He learned about your world, your family, the things you missed. One evening, a heavy sadness settled over you, a longing that had been building. “Neteyam,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, “I need to get home. I have a mom who’s probably very sad.”

He didn’t say anything. His expression became unreadable, his golden eyes distant. He simply got up and left, leaving you alone with your words and the echoing silence.

The next morning, he returned with your breakfast. He set the bowl down, then knelt, his gaze soft. He reached through the bars, his fingers gently cupping your cheek letting his thumb play with the fat there. 

And he sat with your until you finished your food. 

You spoke more that usual and he didn’t say much, and one second you were talking then the next you were… asleep? 

When you woke again, the air was different. You were no longer in the cage, that was obvious. The rough ground beneath you was covered in soft moss and fallen leaves. 

The familiar, oppressive scent of the Ash people’s camp was gone, replaced by the rich, earthy smell of the forest. 

You were somewhere else, somewhere far away, the dense canopy of Pandora’s jungle stretching endlessly above you. 

Based off this request!

Idk honestly, kind feel like i lost the plot lowk

@jjaaammwii , @flawisess , @minqxchae , @an1bara , @louieharpyee , @rosegradengrave , @sela-gypsy , @alientee , @favblond1e19 , @thatoctobergirl28 , @cakedwithdesire , @melonsharkzzzz , @florescencls , @moize , @khiarsa @babymi1ne , @raleiya , @mershyjershy , @thatoctobergirl28 , @aruscape , @veiledpies , @melonsharkzzzz , @fangirlsmatter-blog , @florescencls , @moize , @khiarsa

[syurina]

⋆˙⟡ — neteyam x human!reader (wc: 0.7k)

“do you know what this is for?” you pointed at the flower he had handed you on one of your first interactions. he shook his head. “you were right, it has healing properties. our team believes a tsahik might use it to reduce the pain of injuries like muscle ruptures. should you hit someone with your bow, if it hits a muscle, your tsahik might want to take some of these petals to speed up the healing process.” 

your back bowed slightly so you could get a better look at the flower, pointing at its petals and its stem, but neteyam’s eyes stayed on you. he was right next to you, crouched down so he could better pretend to pay attention to the flower. little by little, with your increased time in the omatikaya forest, the na’vi warrior you had established some sort of a friendship with got closer to you, both physically and emotionally. 

he wasn’t the na’vi who sneaked around, watching you from below and keeping his bow pointed at you. sometimes he did, but it didn’t last more than a few seconds before he came down and spoke comfortably. your na’vi was getting better and he was able to speak at a more comfortable speed. he enjoyed hearing you talk about your research, nothing could’ve prepared him for the day he would be learning about his own forest from a sky person.

there were times when a warrior would injure themselves, or rituals would be celebrated, in which he began to recognize the herbs and flowers his grandmother used. both his mother and grandmother had an inkling that perhaps he was courting one of the tsahik’s apprentices and that was the cause for his sudden burst of knowledge. 

his siblings, too, often asked him where it was he disappeared to. they never received a concrete response. sometimes he claimed to practice his hunting skills, going on long tangents about how young warriors shouldn’t become overconfident. other times he lectured his siblings on the beauty of the forest and his desire to explore it entirely–despite already knowing said forest like the back of his hand. no one bought any of his excuses and lectures, but somehow he was agile enough to sneak away, nearly every day, for the past six months.

a streak that lo’ak was determined to end. neteyam may have been able to rant and lecture his way out of his other siblings’ inquiries, but that wasn’t going to fly anymore. his family had began teasing the eldest with rumors of courting an omatikaya healer apprentice, and if lo’ak had one defining trait it was that he was nosy. he wanted to know exactly where neteyam sneaked off to–who he was sneaking off for. 

his surprise was beyond words when he saw neteyam’s ikran fly towards the campsite their father had time and time again warned them about. how could it be that toruk makto’s golden child disobeyed such strict orders on the daily. he stayed far behind, close enough to see his brother’s path, but far enough to not be heard. most walking had to be done by foot, jumping from one tree to another, using large leaves to soften the fall and muffle its sound. 

he began to grow confident with each step he took, certain that nobody had followed him, and sure his brother didn’t suspect a thing. that was until he heard the sound of a breathing mask. the same one spider used; except spider was back at the hallelujah mountains.

there he was, the mighty warrior and son of toruk makto, handing a sky person the very amulet he had been crafting for weeks. your hands were much too small, the amulet that was intended to be worn as a wrist band ended up having to be worn a different way. you were grateful nonetheless, your smile broke into laughter, filled with excitement you couldn’t contain. perhaps this admiration wasn’t one-sided. 

“what the fuck are you doing, bro?” lo’ak interfered. your stepped back, unsure of who this na’vi was, what could happen upon being seen with the only omatikaya you had ever spoken to, a million thoughts raced through your head. 

neteyam’s voice, echoed in the background, not quite registering in your brain. all you found yourself doing was apologizing under your breath, in english and in na’vi, quietly mumbling apologies neither na’vi heard until you had stepped so far back you couldn’t see them anymore.

pt 1 2 3 4 5

taglist: @aruscape @k----a27s

[syurina]

⋆˙⟡ — neteyam x human!reader (wc: 0.9k)

after running into you more than a couple times, neteyam began sneaking out more often, telling everyone he needed to “clear his mind,” and fly solo. careful with every step he took, he had to sneak around by foot every time he got close enough to see the people working. he didn’t recognize anyone–not like he knew that many humans anyway. sometimes he saw doctor augustine, norm, lots of white coats. 

he wasn’t there every time you were on-site, or at least he didn’t let you see him every time. he was fascinated by your grasp of the na’vi language, how you didn’t run to tell anyone about having seen him, the care with which you carried yourself. he enjoyed watching as much as he enjoyed your actual interactions. still, he knew he could never get too close, for you were human at the end of the day.

after your last encounter, when he gave you the flower, he hoped to hear about your findings. the first day after, he flew by the campsite to see if any sky people were there, but it was empty. he returned the next day, only to find everyone but you. and the days went on, he rarely bothered to sneak by foot anymore. he worried every time he saw helicopters get too close to the na’vi, maybe you had told. 

both of you, unknowingly tossed and turned every night wondering what had happened to the other. he worried you might not be able to return, you wondered if you’d get a chance to see him again. he tried not to think too much about the possibility of you having told anyone about him, and you hoped he hadn’t been seen by anyone. 

it wasn’t too hard to get another field opportunity. your first weeks as a researcher in pandora, and your years with the research team on earth spoke for themselves. you were the only person from your team on earth who had a solid enough grasp on the na’vi tongue to be able to go on-site right away–yet useless whenever you had neteyam in front of you. on your first trials, you had brought rarer medicinal herbs than anybody else interning. surely a rough streak wasn’t enough to discard everything. 

you convinced both your supervisor and doctor augustine to let you back on site, at the very least to prove once and for all whether you had had sheer luck in your first few weeks. you were able to collect different types of samples over the course of three visits. your work did the pleading for you. months had passed since you last saw neteyam, though at least you were in the lineup for the permanent on-site team. 

he flew over the campsite, you snuck behind the shrubs and tall trees into the spot you had first seen him. he almost missed you when he noticed movement deeper into the trees. his ikran rested far enough to not be seen or heard. he was up on the trees again, much too tall for a human to be able to see. there you were. it had been months since he had seen you, but he knew it was you. 

“did you use the petals?” his voice was quiet, like he knew he wasn’t supposed to be there, to speak, to let you see him. he was just as you had remembered him. cat-like, quiet, bow pointed at you like he wasn’t imposing enough as is. 

you looked up at him, smiling, “i keep in my pocket.” you patted the right-side pocket in your pants. despite staying quiet, your mind raced with a million things to say. would you push your luck if you mentioned anything about having seen him in a while? would he even care? he did have his bow pointed at you. 

he nodded towards the campsite behind you, “too many sky people have been here, what is happening there?” you explained what you knew. no one would be moving in, per say, but researchers did have the intention of prolonging their stay and sticking around–without disturbing the na’vi. he paid attention, you could see his ears shift at the slightest rustle, but his gaze stayed on you. he didn’t move closer, but he also didn’t back away.

you mentioned being one of the team members who wanted to stay in pandora longer, really make good use of the campsite technology and the space that the forest people had granted. “there’s no use,” you tilted your head in confusion at his words, but he continued, “if you’re going to keep everything in you,” he pointed at your pocket. 

it took you a moment to understand what he said, your na’vi was still not advanced enough for you to immediately understand what was said to you, particularly not when you were already nervous. but you smiled, even made a comment about how the petals were too pretty to not preserve. your impatience grew as you two stared at each other in silence, knowing your time together was limited. with broken na’vi, you tried to tell him about your research. how you had been investigating some medicinal herbs. it seemed like there was a variant in the samples taken that could help humans with the symptoms that arose from the gravitational difference in pandora.

he listened for the most part, only stopping you once to try to guess the type of herb you described. you promised to show him next time.

pt 1 2 3 4

taglist: @aruscape

[syurina]

⋆˙⟡ — neteyam x human!reader (wc: 0.6k)

word on the street was that a new intern had seen a na’vi near the campsite. the rda immediately suggested higher security personnel, perhaps even launching a mission of their own to see if this meant jake sully was stationed anywhere near it; an initiative doctor augustine rejected immediately. she had worked too hard to let “ranger rick and friends” ruin her research and her agreement with the people of the forest. 

you had been temporarily dismissed from on-site research since you had failed to bring anything back to the laboratory. your supervisor initially couldn’t believe you had returned empty handed, so the lab directors searched your equipment for anything that could have possibly been hidden. 

“one job, you had one job, and instead you’ve become a liability,” your supervisor wasn’t too upset at your negligence, rather they were terrified of facing doctor augustine and admitting to wasting both time and resources for practically nothing. from being one of the best esteemed promises of the internship program, you had undergone a tragic streak right before the final evaluations. 

there was a hint of hope your reputation could save you from being sent back to earth, though it wasn’t so likely. weeks had passed and it seemed like everyone got their chance to prove themselves in comparison to your bad example. all you had were the petals you had been given by the na’vi. you knew they would be put to good research, you knew this was the whole reason for everything you had worked for. the sole purpose of understanding the forest and its flora. still, you held onto the petals. carried them inside any pocket you had on you. 

you tossed and turned incessantly, unable to shake the image of him, up on a tree you could never imagine climbing; the image of his reaching out, petals on the palm of his hand. expressive yellowish green eyes–you knew what the na’vi looked like, but this was different. he had his own distinct pattern of bioluminescent dots all over him. when the forest covered the sun and the natural light dimmed, you could see his face light up. 

“so, what’s the plan now?” your labmate wondered, shaking you from your thoughts when she sat on your bed. you furrowed your brows, “every time i try to talk to our supervisor he shrugs me off, scolds me if i get half a second of his time. at this point i might have to go to doctor augustine, and we all know the prognostic there.” 

she nodded along, noting how she had already slipped your name a few times when she got to go on-site. you sat up straight. “and? what happened?” she shrugged. there was something in her expression you couldn’t quite read. you opted to change the topic to the rumor that na’vi had been seen along the campsite.

“they’re trying to set up a semi-permanent lab inside the campsite. there’s a whole crew that’s in there everyday trying to make the remains somewhat livable. i don’t think anyone’s going to go as far as living there, but i do think there will be interns who land the full time gig in there. best of the best, you should be there,” she nudged your arm. you inquired again about the people of the forest. 

“one of the guys said he felt like he was being watched the entire time he was there, but when he tried to go deeper into the forest, doctor augustine caught him. hasn’t been allowed back on-site.”

you got up almost instantly and excused yourself. your labmate stood up too, calling out your name and asking where you were going.

“to plead my case!”

pt 1 2 3

taglist: @aruscape

[vaniellea]

𓂃 ⭒ lo’aks love story with older reader

You’d gone out past the village because you needed air and the village had too many people in it tonight, all of them talking about the Sully family and Neteyam and what a tragedy and did you hear what Jake said to his son, and you couldn’t sit in the middle of it anymore. So you went out. 

And then you heard something that didn’t sound right and you followed it, the way you’d been taught to follow anything that doesn’t sit right in your chest.

Lo’ak is on his knees in the dark with a sky people weapon in his hands and he is shaking.

You have seen Lo’ak Sully do a lot of things since his family came to the reef. You’ve seen him pick fights he couldn’t win, you’ve seen him make his family laugh, you’ve seen him grieve in the loud desperate way he does everything. 

But you’ve never seen him like this…

You cross the distance between you in seconds that feel like years and your hand finds his wrist before your brain catches up to your body, and you wrench — hard — fingers locking around bone, and the thing in his hands goes skidding across the rock and disappears somewhere into the dark below you and Lo’ak spins, and the sound he makes is something you’ve never heard from him before, something animal and cracked open, and his eyes are wild when they find your face.

“What —” he starts.

“What are you doing.”

It comes out quieter than you mean it to. Not soft — your voice is shaking too hard to be soft — but quiet, because you can’t seem to make it any louder. Your hand is still around his wrist. You can feel his pulse hammering against your fingers.

Lo’ak’s jaw works. He looks at you and then away from you, chest heaving, and his eyes are wet and red-rimmed and have clearly been that way for a long time before you arrived.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.

“Lo’ak.”

“It doesn’t matter, just —” He tries to pull his arm back. You don’t let go. “Go back to the village. You didn’t see anything.”

“I saw everything.”

He looks at you again. Whatever he finds in your face makes him flinch.

“Go home,” he says, and his voice breaks in the middle of it, and he turns his face away fast, jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscle jumping in his cheek.

You don’t go home.

You step closer instead, closing the gap until you’re right in front of him, until he’d have to physically move you to get away from you, and you keep your hand wrapped around his wrist and you look at him until he has to look back at you. 

His eyes are glassy. The tears haven’t fallen yet. He looks like someone who has been holding himself together by his fingernails for so long that he’s forgotten there was ever a version of himself that didn’t have to.

“Tell me,” you say.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Lo’ak.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” His voice cracks again on the last word and he squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back and breathes through his nose, and you watch his throat move as he swallows. “He’s dead. Neteyam is dead and it’s — it happened because of me, because I can’t do anything without —” He stops. Presses his lips together. Opens his eyes and stares at the sky. “I’m always the problem. I’ve always been the thing that goes wrong. And now he’s —”

“Stop.”

“— and my dad doesn’t even — he can’t even look at me —”

“Stop.”

“Why?” He looks back down at you, and this time the tears do fall, two of them, cutting fast down his face. 

“Because it’s not true? Because you want to tell me it’s not my fault?” His voice has gone ugly and mean, the way it gets when he’s directing the ugliness at himself. 

“You can save it. I know what I am. I’ve always known what I am. Neteyam was —” He makes a sound. Not a word. Something worse than a word. “He was the one who was supposed to be here. He was the one who mattered. I’m just —”

You grab his face with your free hand.

Both palms now — one still locked around his wrist, one cupped against his jaw — and you turn his face toward you and he goes still, like a held animal, like something startled into silence.

“You matter,” you say. You say it right into his face. You say it close enough that he can’t look anywhere but at you. “You matter to me. I-“

Behind you, footsteps.

Two sets.

“Lo’ak.”

Tsireya’s voice. High and tight with relief, the way a voice gets when it’s been searching for a while. And Kiri behind her, breathing hard, both of them coming up over the ridge with their hands reaching for him —

Lo’ak is already turning.

You feel it — the shift of his weight, the way he pulls out of your hands like he forgot they were there — and then he’s on his feet and Tsireya has her arms around him and he’s holding on to her and Kiri has her hand on his back and the three of them are something closed and complete, and you are standing two feet away with your palms still warm from his face.

You watch him.

He doesn’t look back.

You pick up the piece of shell from the rock beside you — the one he’d been turning over in his fingers — and you close your fist around it, and you walk back to the village alone.

𓂃 ⭒

He comes to you three days later.

You’re in the middle of repairing a net — sitting cross legged outside your family’s pod with the thing spread across your lap, fingers working the same knot you’ve been working for twenty minutes because you keep losing count — and his shadow falls over you before you hear him.

You look up.

Lo’ak is standing there with his hands on his hips and an expression on his face like he’s rehearsed something and already forgotten it.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

He sits down beside you without being invited. You don’t say anything about it. He watches your hands for a moment.

“How do you do that without looking?”

“Practice.” You pull the knot tight. “What do you want, Lo’ak?”

He’s quiet. His knee bounces once and then stops. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I just — I didn’t know where else to go.”

You look at him sideways. He looks tired still, but present, both eyes forward, actually here. You think about the ridge. About the way he’d turned toward Tsireya without a second glance.

You think about how you’re going to let that go, because he was grieving and he didn’t owe you anything and you are not going to make this about yourself.

“Okay,” you say. And you go back to the net.

He stays.

That’s how it goes.

He just  keeps showing up. 

You’ll be mending something, or weaving, or working a strip of hide into a wrap, and he’ll drop down beside you like gravity decided he belonged there, and he’ll start talking. About his father. About the way the other reef boys look at him. About how he tried to go spearfishing alone yesterday and fell off the rock twice.

“Did you land the fish at least?”

“On the second fall. I landed on the fish. Does that count?”

“Absolutely not.”

He grins. It’s the first real one you’ve seen from him.

You keep your hands moving. Wrapping cord around a handle, weaving strands of sea-grass into something flat and useful, sorting shells by size for the younger kids’ craft work. Your hands always have something to do. It keeps you from looking at him too long.

“You’re not even listening,” he says one afternoon.

“I’m listening.”

“I just said I think my ilu is avoiding me.”

“Your ilu is an animal. It doesn’t have opinions about you.”

“She absolutely does. She looked at me with judgment.”

“Lo’ak.” You pull a knot tight without looking up. “Are you gonna help me or are you just gonna talk about how you fell for the twentieth time this week?”

“It was nine times —”

“Help or leave.”

He grabs the end of the cord you’re holding and pulls it taut for you without being asked, and the knot sets cleanly, and you hate that he’s useful. You were hoping he wouldn’t be useful.

It’s a few weeks before you notice more.

You’re sitting close, you always end up sitting close by the end of these sessions, because he migrates toward you inch by inch without seeming to notice and you’ve got a strip of bark fiber drying across your knees and you’re separating it into threads, and Lo’ak is lying on his back beside you with one arm over his face just talking, talking, talking.

And then he stops talking.

You glance at him.

He’s propped up on one elbow now, chin in his hand, watching you work. There’s a look on his face you haven’t seen before — softer than usual, less guarded, like he forgot to put the wall back up.

“What?” you say.

“Nothing.” He pauses. “You smell good.”

You stop separating threads.

“What.”

“You always smell like — I don’t know. The air is different on you. Like it’s warmer.” He says it like he’s commenting on the weather, like it’s the most ordinary thing. “I noticed it the first time you sat near me. I thought it was something you put in your hair.”

You stare at him.

He looks back at you with complete sincerity.

“Lo’ak —”

“Do you use something? Like an oil?”

“Go home,” you say, and you turn back to your fiber, and you spend the rest of the afternoon very deliberately not thinking about the fact that your face is warm.

He comes back the next day. He brings you two fish he caught himself and drops them in your lap like an offering and then sits down and starts telling you about his ilu again, and you take the fish and say nothing and keep your eyes on your work.

He smells like the sea and something darker, warmer underneath.

You are not going to think about that.

He’s sixteen when you finally say something.

Sixteen, and sitting close enough that your arms press together when you both lean over the same piece of work, and he’s laughing at something you said and his tail is moving slow and contented behind him like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and you look at him and think: this has to stop.

“Lo’ak.”

“Hm.”

“You should be spending time with people your age.”

He looks at you. “I spend time with Kiri.”

“I mean —” You stop. Try again. “I’m almost two years older than you.”

He blinks. “Okay.”

“That’s — that matters.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m closer to Neteyam’s age than yours, and —” You watch his face at the name and keep going, because stopping every time someone says his brother’s name isn’t going to help either of you. “— and my parents are already talking about potential mates. Aonung’s name has come up more than once.”

Lo’ak goes very still.

“Aonung,” he repeats.

“He’s a good match. He’s older, he’s proven, he’s —”

“He’s Aonung.”

“Lo’ak —”

“You don’t even like him.”

“That’s not — it’s not always about —” You press your lips together. “The point is that you’re sixteen and I’ll be eighteen in a few months, and it’s a little —”

“I’ll be seventeen in a few months.”

“I’ll be eighteen in a few months.”

“So it’s —” He does the math on his face. “A year. That’s barely anything.”

“A year is not barely anything at our ages and you know it.”

He sits up straighter. Crosses his arms, which on him looks less defensive and more like he’s bracing himself for an argument he intends to win.

“I’m not a kid,” he says.

You look at him.

He’s got the faint beginnings of markings on his jaw — the ones that come in slow over years — and his shoulders are wider than they were when he first started sitting beside you, and he looks back at you with complete seriousness.

You almost laugh. You save it, barely. “Lo’ak —”

“I’m not.”

“You’re sixteen.”

“I’m a man.”

The laugh escapes. You can’t stop it — it comes out through your nose and you cover your mouth and Lo’ak’s expression goes through three different things at once: embarrassed, indignant, and then, underneath both of those, something quieter. Something that watches you laugh and seems, despite itself, to like it.

“It’s not funny,” he says.

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not.” But the corner of his mouth is doing something traitorous. “I mean it. I’m not asking you to — I’m just saying… bro”

“Okay,” you say quietly.

“Okay?”

“I’m not agreeing to anything. I’m saying okay. As in — I heard you.”

He holds your gaze for a moment longer. Then he nods, once, and he looks back down at his hands, and neither of you says anything else for a while.

Time passes.

Lo’ak earns his first reef mark at sixteen and a half — a small thing, high on his left arm, for bringing up a catch that three older hunters had given up on — and he comes to show you with barely restrained energy, presenting his arm like he’s presenting evidence in a case.

“Look.”

You look. “I see it.”

“It’s the first one.”

“I know, Lo’ak.”

“There’ll be more.”

You raise an eyebrow. He sets his jaw.

There are more.

Seventeen.

His voice settles into itself. The markings on his jaw come in properly, dark blue-green against his skin, the ones that mean he’s been accepted by the reef as fully as anyone born to it. 

He’s taller — not dramatically, but enough that you notice — and he moves differently, more settled in his body, less like a collection of limbs trying to agree on a direction.

He still comes to sit beside you.

He still talks. About training, about his father — the relationship between them slow and difficult and sometimes tender in a way that clearly surprises Lo’ak every time — about Kiri, about his ilu, about the reef boys who are finally, finally starting to treat him like a peer and not an outsider’s kid.

“Ao’nung sparred with me yesterday,” he says one evening. “Actually sparred. Not — you know. Not like before.”

“Who won?”

“…He did. But it was close.”

“How close?”

“Close enough that he said it was close.” He pauses. “He said it. Himself..”

You glance at him. “That’s significant.”

“Right?”

You smile at your work. He sees it — you know he sees it because he gets this look, this particular look, like catching that smile is something he was actively trying to do.

You still don’t say anything about it.

Eighteen

He’s got four marks now — two on his upper arm, one across his collarbone, one at the base of his throat that he earned pulling a child out of a deep current that nearly took her under. 

He’s the one who tells you about it like it was nothing, like it was just what anyone would’ve done, and you have to very deliberately not reach out and touch the mark while he’s talking.

He smells like something warm and familiar that by now you know is just him, and you’ve stopped trying to tell yourself you haven’t memorized it.

He’s sitting closer than usual. Your knees are touching. He’s been watching your hands work for twenty minutes without saying anything, and when you glance up he doesn’t look away.

“What?” you say.

“Nothing.” He pauses. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Dangerous.”

“Shut up.” But he says it warmly, and his knee presses a little more deliberately against yours. “You said give you time.”

Your hands slow.

“I’ve been giving you time,” he says. “I’ve been — I know I have. And I’m not trying to push, I just —” He stops. Exhales through his nose. “I just want to know if it’s working.”

You look at him.

He looks back. He’s nervous — you can see it in the set of his shoulders, in the way his tail has gone very still — and underneath the nerves he’s earnest in a way that makes your chest ache, this boy who once stood at the edge of a ridge with nothing left and who has spent two years building himself back into someone who can sit beside you in the evening light and ask for something.

“Lo’ak —”

“I’m nineteen in four months.”

“I know.”

“And you’re —”

“I know how old I am.”

“I’m just saying the —”

“Lo’ak.”

He stops.

You put your work down.

He watches you put it down and something shifts in his face, a kind of held breath, and then without quite seeming to decide to he slides down from the log he was sitting on, drops to his knees in the sand in front of you, and leans forward and tucks his face into your lap.

Just — buries it there. Both hands coming up to hold your knees. Forehead pressed against your thighs. The back of his neck is right there, the marks on his throat, the ones he earned, and you feel the breath go out of him like he’s been holding it for two years.

“I’m not asking you to decide anything right now,” he says, muffled against your leg. “I just needed you to know. That it’s you. That it’s been you for a long time and I’m not — I’m not going anywhere, I’m not gonna —” He stops. His fingers tighten slightly on your knees. “I just needed you to know.”

You look down at him.

At the back of his head, the slope of his shoulders, the marks you watched him earn one by one while you sat beside him and pretended not to be counting.

You bring your hand down slowly and rest it in his hair.

He goes very, very still.

“Lo’ak,” you say quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Look at me.”

He lifts his head. His eyes are dry this time — he’s not crying, he’s just looking at you, open and steady in a way you know it cost him something to learn — and you keep your hand where it is, against his hair, and you look back at him.

“You’re still a lot,” you say.

“Yeah.”

“And you talk constantly.”

“I know.”

“And every time you fall off a rock I somehow hear about it in detail.”

“…In my defense, the rocks are —”

“Lo’ak.”

“Yeah,” he says. And he waits.

“You’ve been a man for a while now,” you say. “I was just being slow.”

Something happens to his face. Something that starts in his eyes and moves outward, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen, and he reaches up and covers your hand with his — the one still in his hair — and presses it there like he’s afraid you’ll take it back.

You don’t.

You mate in the spring, when the bioluminescent blooms are so thick the whole shallows glows, and Lo’ak holds both your hands and bumps his forehead against yours and says I told you, and you say you really did, and he laughs — loud, too loud, the same way he does everything — and pulls you in.

His tail still finds yours in the water like it always has, like it was doing it long before either of you were admitting to anything.

You keep the shell from the ridge. It’s small and worn and a little chipped at the edge and you’ve had it for two years in the bottom of your bag. You never told him about it.

That night, when he’s asleep with his arm thrown over you and his face pressed into your shoulder, you take it out and look at it in the dark.

You matter, you’d said. 

You matter to me.

You’d never gotten to finish the sentence.

You didn’t have to.

So I really hope you liked this:( please let me know if you didn’t and I will re write it bc I wrote this a few times and I didn’t know what to do with it:(

Sorry it took a while to post, I have been super busy lately

Based off this request!

[syurina]

⋆˙⟡ — neteyam x human!reader (wc: 0.9k)

“so what now? are you going to give it to doctor augustine?” teased your labmate. 

it had been about a week or so since your last time on site. after worrying everyone for what seemed like a case of too many energy drinks and not enough rest, the lab team took some days to patrol the area, make sure there were no extraordinary safety concerns. upon clearance, it was you again that got assigned to gather more samples as the one you had gotten before hadn’t been enough for testing. 

“i just don’t understand why it has to be me. we have tons of interns, i mean, how often are you out on the field?” “don’t look at me, i made it very clear in my application that i wanted to stay inside as much as possible.” you covered your face with your palms at their comment, uttering something about how it simply wasn’t fair when you were the most skilled inside the lab with the computer systems. patting your back, your labmate assured you doctor augustine probably wanted you back out there because she saw potential in you or because she didn’t want your perception of pandora to be tainted so easily. 

before leaving the helicopter, you got the usual safety lecture, this time with emphasis about how everyone on site will be required to submit reports of everything they see, particularly any unusual activity in the area. when referring to you specifically, doctor augustine discussed that although you needed to stay alert at all times, there was no room for fear.

about ten minutes in, everyone split up. you made sure no one paid attention to you or stuck too close so they wouldn’t see you go past the bushes and trees that separated the campsite from the na’vi forest. this risk could cost you your life, but you figured you were still close enough to run back to the original site. 

you moved slowly, unable to shake the feeling that you were being watched. your grasp of the na’vi language went beyond any of the other interns, though it wasn’t that great of a feat when most of them couldn’t get past a basic greeting. the further you walked, the more overconfident you got. with every step came a pep talk from yourself about how you would be just fine. 

your spirits were up until you looked up and saw there was a bow pointed at you. without a doubt, it was the same one you had seen on your last visit. you couldn’t see him, as he hid behind a large branch that covered everything but his bow. you dropped your bag, calling out to him that you had no weapons on you. as the bag dropped, you took a step away from it, with both of your hands raised as well. 

he stepped closer, still looking down at you, but now you could see him. you smiled, “we know each other,” you did your best to speak in na’vi–hoping it was good enough for him to understand. his ears flattened, and he stopped pointing his bow at you. still holding on to it, just not pointing it anymore. you introduced yourself and asked for his name. he spoke a little too fast for your understanding. all you got was that you were a sky person. 

“i, uh,” you trailed off, wondering how to convey that you were a researcher. “i want to learn about your forest. i take some herbs, try to see what they’re for. i did not tell that i saw you,” you glanced at your watch. if you stayed out for too long, you wouldn’t be hard to find. it would mean nothing whether you told anyone about him. faced with nothing but silence, you took your bag, walked backwards.

as soon as you turned around, you heard him come down from the tree. his speech was slow, like he was accommodating you, “are you a healer?” you stopped. you didn’t have much time left, but you also could not waste the opportunity he gave you. facing him again, you said, “i try. i know the connection of the people to the forest. i want to know why.”

he stepped closer, but you stepped back. there were a few flowers growing from some of the pasture under the tree where you had found him. without taking the stem, he extended his hand with only the petals. “tsahiks come to this part of the forest for this flower only. i don’t know what’s so special about it, but if you are a healer then it may be of use.” not even in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine you’d be standing in front of a na’vi, let alone that he would be handing you flower petals under the premise that you could be anywhere near the rank of a tsahik. “thank you,” you said in english before quickly switching to irayo. 

you heard voices near the campsite, which made you step back from him faster. you smiled at him before turning around to run back and meet everyone. “what were you doing back there?” inquired one of the crew members. you looked up like a deer in headlights, “nothing, i dropped my container,” there was a pause. “had to get it back.”

pt 1 2

taglist: @aruscape

[syurina]

[🪼] — jake sully x reader

coming soon

[syurina]

[🌀] — lo’ak x reader

coming soon

[syurina]

[🫐] — neteyam x reader

neteyam x human!reader

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight

neteyam x metkayina tsakarem!reader

angst, sfw, happy ending, 2.2k

[syurina]

⋆˙⟡ — neteyam x human!reader (wc 0.7k)

“i swear if they make me go back on site, doctor augustine is going to hear from me,” you sighed in annoyance. your labmate scoffed, “you will do no such thing, you know you love being on site.” had they asked you a few months back, you would’ve jumped out of your seat, wasting no time to collect samples from pandora yourself. had your last experience not been so sour, perhaps you’d be more excited to get back out there. 

jake feared people from the rda were most likely to go back to the scene where quaritch had been killed. technology was left behind, not to mention the colonel’s remains. he couldn’t afford to take the risk of his children being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which meant that time and time again–the sully kids were strictly prohibited from getting anywhere near that area. the omatikaya forest was big enough for them to have plenty of other places to explore and spend their time. 

for the most part, this hadn’t been much of a problem. the sully boys got more enjoyment from staying close to their parents and complaining that they weren’t allowed to tag along for every mission as the warriors they swore they were. kiri and tuk acted as mo’at’s little helpers, gathering all sorts of herbs from the forest and making pastes and learning about various healing rituals. 

neteyam had been practicing for the past weeks to become a sneakier hunter, to make less of a rustle as he moved amidst the leaves and tree branches. lost in thought, genuinely focused on his agility, one false step led to his messiest fall. large leaves gave him a bit of a buffer, especially as he knew how to hold on to them for a smoother fall, but it didn’t make him any quieter. 

this was your fifth time in a row assigned to collect samples from the forest. scientists knew little to no na’vi congregated in the old campsite, which made it the perfect destination to collect samples. particularly when it came to letting the interns get field experience. doctor augustine never let anyone go on site before receiving a lecture on safety, prudency towards the forest people, and other protocols. however, by the fifth time around, you felt pretty confident.

until you heard a rustle of leaves and other flora nearby. like something heavy had been dropped. you froze with herbs in one hand and a container in the other. your mind raced with the extensive list of creatures that could’ve caused the noise. palulukan were large creatures, but you couldn’t think of a reason for them to create such a noise. after waiting for a few moments, you continued as you were. 

your hands stayed shaking, and you tried your best to act quickly. that was until you heard what sounded like uneven footsteps. expecting to see a labmate or pilot, you turned to find a tall, slender, na’vi. it felt like looking in a mirror, the way he had the same horrified expression as you. “i see you,” your spoke, but the nerves hindered your voice. you hoped your hand gesture got your point across. he reciprocated, but the grip on his bow stayed strong.

barely turning your face away from him, you tried to side eye your pilot, wondering if they saw what you were seeing. you couldn’t see anyone around, like they had disappeared–so much for that safety lecture. in broken na’vi, you asked him, “may i have these?”

he stayed quiet. one step at a time, he walked backwards. you stayed frozen in place. your wide eyes never left his until he was no longer visible. you put the herbs in your hand into their container and ran back to the helicopter. your handwriting reflected the nerves you felt as you labeled your findings. the crew all came back and asked if you were okay, confused as to why you’d suddenly cut everyone’s time short. 

“you didn’t see that?” you asked, your voice had the slightest tinge for frantic. everyone shook their heads. “see what?” you asked about the loud thud, the leaves rustling. you saw a collective of heads tilting to the side. scared of what would happen if the military got word that na’vi were starting to get closer to the campsite, you stayed quiet. blamed it on sleep deprivation and nerves.

pt 1

[syurina]

꩜ .ᐟ — babydoll (wc 1.6k )

i can take you with me if you really wanna go–

the only light in the room came from the screen, and your eyes were dry from not blinking. the show-runners had taken every girl into a separate room to watch their ex’s confessionals. a dynamic that hadn’t been seen before in previous seasons. day one’s questions had been relatively simple: ideal type, how long you dated, why you broke up. the first session wrapped up with the producers asking, 

“and if given the chance, would you date her again?”

“yes.” 

oh babydoll, i can’t move on–

you felt your heart stop, blood down to the plants of your feet, when you saw him walk into the house. some girls greeted him, any sound was a blur the moment he smiled. years of thinking you had your feelings in check; the past was no more than that. no more than extensive knowledge of a person you treated like a stranger. 

no more than buying snacks for everyone, but making sure there was a bag of his favorite sour candy in the pantry. he’d never know it was you who brought them. 

your eyes followed him where he went, brows furrowed not in anger but in awe. the yearning in your gaze would undoubtedly link you to him if anybody else noticed. your lips formed the slightest frown to accompany your widened eyes. you introduced yourself as he pretended to learn your name for the first time. should anyone dare to speculate, looking at someone you just met with such eyes could only mean one thing. 

waiting on calls, flipping through stations–

on the drive over to the house, he switched stations, connected his phone to the car’s bluetooth for a playlist, decided whatever came organically through the radio was best, then opted for silence. he had plenty on his mind for the car ride to feel quite loud anyway. he parked his car right next to yours like second nature, no intention to keep your connection hidden. 

nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you again, in the same place, and not being able to kiss you to greet you. he smiled at everyone until his eyes met yours, and suddenly his smile was more of an eyebrow raise with his mouth agape. it felt like he finally found you again. so much of his time had been wondering where you were, what you were up to, if you thought of him at all. now here you were, certain you had each other on your minds or else you wouldn’t be here. 

“and your name?” he repeated it after you spoke, pretending he couldn’t hear you. playing strangers yet knowing your deepest insecurities and most sacred dreams. seeing you, talking to you, it felt like saying your name had spoken you into existence. exchanging names took him back to the day you met, before he had started keeping track of time in relation to you entering his life. 

i’m outclassed and it’s outrageous–

you sat together inside his car, him on the driver’s seat, suggesting that you cuddle in the backseat. you shook your head, forty minutes had passed and you were in utter silence. “i just don’t understand what is wrong with me, how i bored you, why you’re breaking up with me. i mean,” you paused for air. 

he tried to speak, but you cut him off, “you gave us an expiration date i didn’t even know about. you can’t understand how stupid that makes me feel; getting you presents for holidays you didn’t even plan on spending together. i ask you, and you say so much, but they’re just words. none of it makes any sense. it’s not my fault that you’re… i don’t know,” you sighed along with your last words, your voice breaking slightly. 

no matter what he said, the damage was done. a conversation that stemmed from a girl wanting reassurance from her boyfriend evolved into a confession about having thought about giving the relationship some time before deciding on breaking up definitively. you swore you’d never be the pleading type, the type to accept breadcrumbs just to have some semblance of what used to be.

i’ll take it all, babydoll–

you were the first in the house to wake up. for years now it had become a routine to get up early even if you had nothing planned for the morning. whether you used your time outside getting some steps in, reading, writing, anything but doomscrolling felt productive. you hoped to be quiet enough not to wake anyone, the coffee maker had a setting for tea. you knew you were the only one who used it, so it surprised you to see a mug already there, with freshly made lavender tea.

the pantry door closed carefully, like whoever was there was also doing their best not to wake anyone. you turned to see who it was. you should’ve known. 

“i was looking for some honey,” he said. completely casual. like it hadn’t been years since he had prepared your morning tea. you smiled, trying to hide the attacks your heart repeatedly made to your chest. there was a new tingling in your stomach when you looked at his hands, holding a jar of honey.

you approached him and sat on one of the stools in front of the counter. he tried to slide you your drink without spilling and asked what step you were in of your morning routine, making you scoff. it annoyed you how much he remembered, how despite the time that had passed, he still knew you. assuring him there was no morning routine anymore, how you were perfectly content doomscrolling your morning away, he shook his head.

“whatever makes you feel better,” his tone mocked you, knowing you were much too proud to accept you hadn’t changed, reinvented yourself entirely, since he knew you. as soon as he turned around, you wasted no time to throw one of the seat cushions at him. it hit him behind his head and you almost laughed out loud. 

your hands covered your mouth, but the way your shoulders moved up and down gave you away. he turned around with a surprised look. not wanting to speak too loud, he pointed to the mug on the counter, then pointing to the seat cushion.

there was no hesitation in his step as he made his way back to you, your face resting on your hand, staring at him directly. you had a mischievous grin on your face like a kid with a new toy. like you were exactly where you wanted to be. it felt good to look at him again and know he’s walking right back to you. 

whatever’s been weighing you down– 

the night made it hard for him to be able to look at you, all he could make out was that you had your head down, occasionally looking to the side when you needed to wipe a tear. you hoped he wouldn’t notice you were crying, but the crickets’ chirping can only be so loud, and sniffling tends to be unmistakable. not to mention his gaze didn’t leave you for a single moment. 

his voice was quiet, but still steadier than yours. he spoke slowly to prevent it from breaking. it felt hypocritical to cry when he was the one who put you in this position. he argued relationships ought to be effortless. there was no reason for either of you to need to work so hard. he reached for your hand, but you moved it to your lap. fidgeting with your fingers. you turned to him, eyes completely crystallized. 

“we’re different people, with different customs, upbringings, cultures,” you gasped for air, “how can you expect to spend a lifetime with someone without putting in any work. relationships take effort, it’s what makes us feel loved.”

you heard him mumble a whispered apology. he reached for both of your hands, this time more for himself than for you, but you moved once more. 

“i don’t want you to touch me.”

we both know exactly what i’m thinking–

your laughter filled the room unintentionally. your friend swore if you sat under the table on your birthday it had the same effect as if you had done it on new year’s. “it’s a new year! in your life! for you!” she argued. in a giggling fit, you took your drink and sat under the table, the girls took your picture–cheeks blushing, hair a little disheveled, a smile you couldn’t fake. you asked how long you needed to stay, but they went on about how you needed some grapes too. 

eventually you made your way back out, excused yourself to use the bathroom. you walked straight as you looked back at your friends, reacting too slowly to their cues that you needed to watch out. 

“excuse me, i’m sorry,” he apologized. it was you who had bumped into him. like a deer in headlights, you looked at him as if you had just seen a ghost. or at least that’s how he had interpreted it. your eyes were wide, brows furrowed–in awe. you tried to speak but nothing came out, and even if it had, it wouldn’t have helped you much. you were convinced you had hallucinated a deity. if you had previously said you hated men, you hated every man but him. 

he asked if you felt okay, tilting his head to the side in confusion. you mirrored him, humming softly. you were in a trance, you blinked slowly in fear he would disappear by the time your eyes opened again. even if you never saw him again, you knew he’d haunt your dreams. 

you saw him again, and he haunted your dreams every day after.