- cw: lower case intended, aged up!neteyam, smut, p in v, humans can breathe the air, virgin!reader, mention of masturbation, neteyam keeps talking about his imagination, fingering, oral (fem receiving), cum eating, dirty talk, size difference (not explicitly mentioned but reader is human soo), neteyam’s kinda possessive, slight belly bulging. let me know if i missed anything!
- an: apologies if this seems rushed. also, so sad we only got glimpses of neteyam in the third movie, i miss my mannn.
- wc: 4.5k
- summary: you and neteyam were inseparable as children. like spider, you were a human left behind, raised among the omatikaya, growing up with pandora as the only home you ever truly knew. when quaritch and the recoms forced jake sully and his family to flee, neteyam disappeared with them, leaving you behind for years of silence and unanswered feelings.
that is, until he returns.
༻༺
you don’t remember a time before pandora.
the forest has always been there in your memories. the hum of insects at dusk, the way the leaves glowed beneath your bare feet, the smell of rain clinging to everything. you learned the paths before you learned to read, learned which branches could hold your weight, which plants to avoid, which ones neteyam swore were “harmless” right before you proved him wrong.
neteyam had always been there too, along with kiri, lo’ak, tuk and spider of course.
you grew up at his side, trailing after him and his siblings like it was the most natural thing in the world. he taught you how to climb when your human hands slipped, how to keep quiet when the forest went still, how to laugh when you fell instead of crying. sometimes he carried you on his back when you got tired, grumbling the whole time but never once leaving you behind.
you were different, you always knew that, smaller, softer, human. but with him, it never felt like something that mattered. you belonged because he said you did. because the sullys said you did.
those days feel impossibly distant now.
you remember the tension creeping in before everything changed. the way the adults spoke in hushed voices, the way neteyam stopped laughing so easily. you didn’t understand gravity of it then, only that something was wrong. that the forest felt heavier. that goodbye came too fast.
one day, they were there.
the next, they were gone.
the forest felt wrong after that. too big. too quiet. you still walked the same paths, still slept beneath the same stars, but everything felt tilted, like pandora itself had shifted without him in it. you told yourself you were fine. you had to be.
norm and max stayed.
they became your anchors in a way you hadn’t expected. the lab, once overwhelming, all blinking lights and foreign sounds, slowly turned into something familiar. safe. you still visited the clan occasionally, although no way near as much as you once had. you learned how to calibrate equipment, how to catalogue samples, how to keep your hands steady even when your chest felt tight with missing someone you weren’t sure you were allowed to miss this much.
you grew up between microscopes and memory.
years passed like that. quietly. you traded scraped knees and borrowed na’vi clothes for data pads and human fabric that felt strange against skin used to vines and leaves. you still visited the forest, pandora was home, always would be, but you were changing, just as much as everything else.
and then one day..
“they’re back!”
the words didn’t register at first.
your hands stilled over the lab bench. the hum of machinery faded into a dull roar in your ears. they’re back. which meant..
no. you didn’t let yourself think it. not yet.
when they arrived, it was chaos. voices overlapping, na’vi gathering, the air thick with emotion and relief and something heavier underneath. you hung back near the edge, heart pounding so hard you were sure everyone could hear it.
and then you saw him.
neteyam stood just behind his father, taller than you remembered, broader, scarred in ways that made your chest ache. the boy who you remembered to be, was gone. in his place stood a warrior, quiet, alert, eyes sharper than before.
his gaze swept the crowd.
and then it landed on you.
for a split second, something cracked in his composure. not enough for anyone else to notice, but you did. you always had. his eyes widened, just barely, like he was seeing a ghost.
you weren’t the same either.
you saw it in the way his gaze lingered, uncertain, like he was trying to reconcile who you were now with the memory of the human kid who used to sit beside him, legs swinging, asking too many questions.
too much time had passed. too many things left unsaid.
but he was here.
he was here and it felt surreal.
you couldn’t move, feet rooted to the ground and you observed the surroundings. around you, people moved, embraces, voices, relief spilling out in bursts but all of it blurred at the edges. all you could see was him.
however, you broke eye contact first.
it wasn’t dramatic, no rush, no stumble, just a quiet decision made. this wasn’t your moment. it shouldn’t be. he’d just returned from years of hiding, fighting, surviving. his family was there, his clan, people who had mourned him as much as they’d waited. whatever this tight, aching thing was in your chest didn’t get to come before that.
so you stepped back.
you slipped through the edge of the crowd, boots soft against the forest floor, the sounds of reunion fading behind you. laughter, choked voices, someone crying openly. it felt wrong to intrude on it with everything you didn’t know how to say. you told yourself you were being sensible. kind, even. he deserved time. space.
you didn’t want to be selfish. and even more, maybe those feelings you felt years ago were one sided. maybe neteyam didn’t feel the same way you did.
the lab welcomed you back with sterile light and familiar hums. too quiet compared to the forest, but steady. you busied yourself with anything you could reach, data logs, recalibrations, a half-finished report you’d already rewritten twice. your hands worked on muscle memory alone, because your mind kept drifting back to the way his eyes had widened when he saw you.
hours passed.
max and norm both questioned why you hadn’t gone to greet them all yet, but you didn’t have a proper answer.
you were bent over a console, pretending very hard to read numbers that refused to make sense, when a shadow crossed the doorway.
you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
the air shifted, subtle, instinctive, the way it always had around him.
“you didn’t come say hi,” neteyam said.
his voice was deeper now. rougher. it sent a warm feeling through your body.
you turned slowly, schooling your expression into something neutral, professional. safe. “you just got back,” you said, like it explained everything. “i figured you’d want to be with your family… your clan.”
for a moment, he just watched you. really watched you. not like before.
“i looked for you,” he said quietly.
“you had a lot of people looking for you,” you reply casually. “i thought… you’d want time with them first.”
neteyam exhales through his nose, something between a huff and a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. he steps closer, careful, like he’s not sure if you’ll bolt if he moves too fast.
neteyam eyes flicker over you, slow, deliberate, taking in the way you’ve changed. his tail twitches behind him, restless.
"you’re taller," he blurts out, voice rough. his gaze lingering on your legs, your waist, the curve of your lips.
you swallow hard.
“taller.” that’s all he says? after years? your fingers tighten around the edge of the console, grounding yourself. "and you’re… broader." the words slip out before you can stop them, your traitorous eyes skimming over his chest, the new scars mapping his skin like stories he never got to tell you.
a beat of silence.
his lips quirk. just barely. "you noticed."
your face burns. “damn him”
neteyam steps closer, the scent of him curling around you. too close. your pulse stutters when his tail sways, brushing your thigh. accidentally? you doubt it.
"you left," you blurt, hating how small your voice sounds.
his amusement fades. "i didn’t have a choice."
"You could’ve sent something, tried to communicate with me.” you muttered.
“it was hard when you all left, the only family i felt like i had.”
"i tried." his jaw tenses. "messages got intercepted. people got hurt."
you bit your lip.
neteyam exhales, running a hand through his braids. "you cut your hair." he changes the subject.
you resist the urge to reach for the shorter strands. "it got in the way."
he hummed, his gaze drops to your neck, exposed now. "i liked it long."
“it’s not that much shorter.” you replied.
the air between you thickens, is it awkwardness or just tension? you really can’t tell.
just then, lo’ak swings through the door unceremoniously, his carefree attitude cutting through the thick tension in the air. he takes a moment to take in the scene. neteyam and you are standing close, conversation halted in its tracks. lo’ak lifts an eyebrow, noticing something is off, but his usual smirk remains intact. "you two look serious." he quips, leaning against the console with ease.
neteyam takes a subtle step back, his expression guarded. "we’re just talking." his voice is casual, but there's a hint of irritation.
lo'ak chuckles, his gaze flickering between them. "just talking? looks like it was getting a little heated in here."
“not really.” you butted in, “he was just mentioning my hair.”
lo’ak’s smirk widens at your response, clearly not buying what you said. "right," he drawls, crossing his arms.
neteyam shoots him a glare, tail flicking in annoyance.
lo'ak just shrugs, unfazed. "anyway, dad wants you. something about perimeter checks." he glances at you again, then back at neteyam. "unless you're busy…?”
neteyam exhales sharply through his nose. "i'm coming."
as he moves to follow lo'ak, his fingers brush against yours deliberately, before he pulls away completely. the brief contact sends a wave of heat to your cheeks.
it was innocent enough, but being human on pandora, you never really received any sort of attention from boys, let alone contact.
lo'ak, oblivious to the silent exchange, claps neteyam on the back. "great! because dad’s in one of his moods..”
the door slides shut behind them, leaving you alone in the lab.
later that night, you couldn’t sleep.
your bedroom felt suffocating, so you slipped outside, letting pandora’s night air cool your skin. the glowing flora pulses softly underfoot as you wander deeper into the trees, trying and failing not to think about neteyam.
you felt like you were a kid again, before the events unravelled.
just you and the forest.
the only difference being you in your human pyjamas, rather than the loincloth and top you used to wear.
a twig snaps behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts.
you turn, pulse jumping. only to find neteyam standing there, his silhouette haloed by bioluminescence.
“you followed me," you accuse.
he steps closer, his gaze dark. "yeah." no excuses. no pretenses.
it caught you off guard.
“i was heading over to see you, then saw you leaving so i followed behind.” he replied.
you simply observed.
it made sense.
he made his way over to you, ducking through branches and other greenery.
his fingers trace the edge of your jaw, his touch feather-light, maddening. “i thought about you, you know?” “every damn night under those same stars. wondering if you still looked up at them. if you… missed me."
you gulp as you watch him.
his thumb presses against your bottom lip, dragging it down just slightly. his pupils are blown wide, dark with something raw.
"and when missing you got too much?" he leans in, his next words whispered against your skin, “ i touched myself imagining it was your hands on me."
your stomach clenches, heat pooling low.
neteyam’s words hung thickly in the air, the intensity of his gaze making you shiver. you were short for words, shocked at his sudden confession.
your heart hammered in your chest, a mixture of desire and uncertainty swirling inside you. you swallowed hard, trying to collect yourself before responding. "neteyam, i..." your voice trailed off, uncertain of what to say, but he took another step closer, his tail wrapping around your waist almost possessively.
his hand slid up to cradle your face, his touch sending sparks across your skin.
"sometimes..." his thumb traced the shape of your bottom lip, his voice low and raspy. "sometimes i’d close my eyes, pretend you were with me."
His eyes moved over you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart skip a beat.
"and i’d think about you in those moments... how I would touch you, if you were there."
his breath warmed your neck as he leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “i’d imagine you here… like this… under the stars we both looked up at.”
a shiver raced down your spine as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.
“remember that hollow in the cliffs? where we used to hide from lo’ak during games?” his voice was rough, low. “i’d imagine me lying there at night and picture you beside me.. under me.”
your breath hitched.
“i’d imagine pushing your shirt up slow,” he murmured, one hand sliding along your waist, fingers teasing beneath the fabric, “feeling how soft your skin is, how warm. i used to wonder if you'd arch into my touch like this…” he pressed his palm flat against the small of your back and pushed, just enough to make you gasp.
“and i always imagined,” he whispered against your jaw, “that when I finally kissed you here, really kissed you.. you’d taste even sweeter than i imagined.”
his hips shifted forward, the slightest grind, and a low sound escaped him.
“that’s when i would of slipped my hand down,” his thumb hooked into the waistband of your pyjamas, “you wouldn’t stop me.”
you let out a small whimper.
“i dreamt about feeling how wet you get for me,” he admitted hoarsely. “wondered if those quiet little noises would be enough to drive me wild after years of waiting.” he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.
"you kept me up late," he murmured, teeth grazing your skin.
his mouth moved lower, along your collarbone, nipping at it teasingly.
“teyam..” you whined quietly.
"shhh," he hushed, voice thick with want. his hips pressed firmer against yours, letting you feel every hard inch of him. "my little scientist... finally letting me taste what's been mine all along?"
his hand slid lower, past your hips, down to the back of your thigh and hooked it up around his waist. you gasped as he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the tree.
"i imagined this too," he growled into your ear. "you wrapped around me, just like that night by the waterfall when we were younger.”
you bit your lip as the memory came flooding back in, you forgot about that.
"i dreamed about making you cum under these stars," he whispered raggedly, tail curling tighter around your waist like a promise. "with my mouth on you.. my name on your lips..”
he finally dipped his hand beneath the hem of your pyjamas, soft fabric sliding aside and brushed one fingertip over damp heat.
he groaned low in his chest.
“shit.. no panties?”
“i.. i don’t wear any to bed.” you replied sheepishly.
he let out a rough, pleased noise. half-growl, half-laugh.
“good,” he breathed. “means I don’t have to tear anything off you.”
his finger dragged through your folds slowly, once, twice, making you whimper and arch against him. “you’re already so wet…”
“you made me wait years,” you gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “of course I’m..” you let out a mewl, “ready for you..”
he smirked, adding pressure just where you needed it. “i used to dream about how tight you’d feel around my fingers… my cock.” he slid one deep inside with no warning, slow, deep, and your head fell back against the tree as a moan tore from your throat.
“like that?” he purred.
you nodded ferociously as his thumb found your clit, circling with torturous precision. "tell me," he murmured, voice thick, "how many nights did you lie awake thinking of me?"
you cried out, hips jerking forward. "n-neteyam!”
"answer me." he added pressure, relentless. "did you touch yourself? imagine it was my hand? my mouth?"
a broken sob escaped you. "yes!..” you whined. “almost nightly!..” you followed up.
he continued pumping his fingers in, out, in, out, for a good few minutes.
his fingers curled inside you just right and suddenly, the world shattered. a sharp cry ripped from your throat as heat exploded low in your belly, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you came hard around his fingers, wet and trembling, your knees nearly giving out.
neteyam didn’t pull away. didn’t stop.
he held you through it, thumb still circling the bud gently as the tremors faded, watching your face with fascination.
he slowly slid his soaked fingers free, and without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his lips and sucked them clean.
your breath caught at the sight, the raw hunger in his eyes, as dropped to his knees in front of you.
his glowing eyes locked onto yours as he hooked your pyjama shorts around his fingers and yanked them down over trembling hips.
his nose brushed your inner thigh.
his hands slid up the underside of you knees, spreading your legs wider.
“look at her.. perfect.” he mumbled under his breath as he looked almost star-struck.
you watched, breath heaving, as he pressed light, worshiping kisses up the inside of your thigh, his eyes locked onto yours.
he looked wrecked, just from watching you cum.
his breath was hot against your skin. "you’re so beautiful," he murmured.
then he exhaled low, like a prayer, and lowered his mouth to your cunt, still pulsing from your release. he lapped up at your cunt with slow, deep strokes of his tongue.
"you taste even better than I dreamed," he groaned against you.
your fingers fisted into his hair as he circled your clit with his tongue, before he moved further down and began teasing your entrance.
he didn't let up. just held you steady with strong hands on your hips and drank from you like a starved man.
he groaned against your heat, the sound vibrating through you. “so sweet… mine.”
every flick of his tongue was deliberate. slow at first, savoring, like he had years to make up for. then deeper, hungrier. his nose brushing your clit as he devoured you with quiet desperation.
you gasped, back arching off the tree as his thumbs spread you wider and ‘yes..’ “there!” that wicked swirl right over your most sensitive spot.
“you gonna come again?” he murmured between licks, voice rough with need. “right on my face?”
You could only whimper in return, but it was enough.
because neteyam growled low in his chest and dove back in like a man possessed, licking deep into your folds, circling your clit with maddening precision before sucking it gently into his mouth.
stars blurred above you. the forest pulsed beneath. and all that existed was this, him between your legs, the way his name broke from your lips like a prayer..
“neteyam… i’m.. i’m gonna..”
his ears twitched at the sound, and he redoubled his efforts, tongue swirling faster, sucking gently as one hand slipped beneath to cup your ass, pulling you even closer.
"again," he growled against you. "let me feel it baby..”
and when you came, shuddering violently against his mouth with a choked cry, he didn't stop.
he just moaned like it was him being rewarded.
the vibrations sent another shockwave through your oversensitive nerves, making your legs tremble.
finally, slowly, he pulled back, but only enough to press one soft kiss to your inner thigh.
then looked up at you, eyes glossy, swollen lips glistening with you..
"still not enough," he whispered, voice raw.
he rose in one fluid motion, closing the space between you again, your back to the tree, his body against yours.
you could feel him now. hard, thick, straining against his loincloth, pressed right where your body still pulsed from his mouth.
his lips found your neck, biting gently. "wanna be inside when you come again."
your breath hitched. "neteyam..."
"i know," he murmured, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. "too much? too fast?"
you shook your head desperately.
“no..”
he exhaled sharply through his nose, the closest thing to losing control you'd ever seen from him.
"good." his hand slid down to cup you possessively between your legs, one finger teasing at your entrance again.
he swiftly took off your top
your bare skin prickled as the cool night air caressed your chest.
he leaned in, lips skimming the shell of your ear. "you ever been with anyone else?"
your stomach fluttered nervously. "no..”
he smiled against your skin, satisfaction and relief pouring off him.
"good…" he whispered, his hand skimming up the front of your bare torso, creeping upwards towards your breasts.
"no one else got to touch you like this... did they? only me."
"only you…" you confirmed.
he groaned low, his mouth moving along your jaw, claiming more territory. "that’s right. you’re mine. only mine."
his hand found your thigh again. "put your leg around me."
you wrapped your leg around his hip, drawing him closer.
your heart stuttered as you felt just how hard your touch made him. neteyam inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into your thigh.
"that's it," he murmured, voice rough. "hold onto me."
you obeyed, grasping onto his shoulders, holding him tight. your body hummed with anticipation.
he pulled you even closer, grinding his hips against yours almost involuntarily with a shaky exhale. you could feel just how much you had affected him.
"missed you…" he murmured between kisses, his lips trailing along your neck. "all these years, i… imagined this. over and over again."
"i did too..." you whispered back.
he kissed you, slow and deep, it made your chest ache. not just desire, something more.
when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours under the soft glow of pandoran night.
his hands moved to the ties of his loincloth and in one smooth motion, freed himself.
you gasped at the sight. thick, proud, already glistening at the tip.
he guided himself to your entrance slowly.. teasingly.. letting just the head slide in as his thumb found your clit again.
"look at me," he demanded softly.
you obeyed as you held his gaze.
with a low groan that vibrated through both of you, he pushed forward inch by inch.. filling you completely until there was no space left between you.
you cried out, part pain, part overwhelming fullness as he stretched you for the first time, your body clenching around his girth.
he froze instantly. "hey… hey, look at me," he murmured, voice thick with concern and restraint. his thumb brushed your cheek as he stayed buried deep inside you, motionless, letting you adjust.
tears pricked your eyes.
"you're okay," he whispered against your lips. "i’ve got you. just breathe… for me."
you nodded shakily and took a breath in and then another, feeling yourself slowly relax around him.
“that’s it," he praised softly, kissing away a tear that slipped free. "take all of me."
and when you rolled your hips slightly, a quiet signal, he exhaled like it was agony and began to move.
slow at first, one deep thrust that made stars burst behind your eyelids, then another just as deliberate.
each one sent waves of pleasure spiraling through you until the line between pain and ecstasy blurred.
"neteyam…" your voice called out
he kissed you hard as his rhythm picked up, one hand gripping your hip to pull you onto him deeper with each stroke, the other tangled in yours above your head.
"i’m here," he muttered against your skin. "feel me?" he said as he pushed his much bigger hand against the bulge, disappearing and reappearing in your stomach with each thrust.
"i feel you... all of you," you gasped, nails raking down his back as he rolled his hips harder.
each thrust drove a moan from your throat, deeper, fuller than before. he was so deep inside you it felt like he was touching your soul.
"yeah? you take me so damn well," he growled, shifting slightly, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every powerful stroke. "mine.. only mine.."
you sobbed out his name as the pressure built again, tighter this time, hotter.
"that’s it," he whispered against your neck, his lips on your pulse point. "come for me, baby. i want to feel you.” he pulled back, looking down at you both, watching his cock slip in and out of your cunt.
“look at us,” he rasped, voice thick with awe and hunger. “you’re taking every inch..”
his thrusts turned shallow, rhythmic, just enough to grind against your clit with each roll of his hips. you whimpered, back arching as the pleasure coiled tighter, unbearable now.
“neteyam.. i’m.. i’m..”
one hand slid between you, rubbing firm circles over your swollen bud. “come on my cock. let me feel it.”
and when you shattered, your body clamped down around him in pulsing waves. he groaned like it was salvation.
“yes.. yes.. that’s it..” he panted against your neck as you trembled through the release.
but he didn’t stop moving.
just kept thrusting, deeper now, as if your pleasure had only fueled his need.
"i’m not gonna last..” he groaned, his mouth finding yours again. "not gonna last..”
you could feel his control slipping, his rhythm turning erratic, his breath coming rougher now as he chased his own release.
“then don’t,” you whispered against his lips, nails digging into his back. “i want you to cum inside me.. want to feel it..”
his hips stuttered at your words, like you'd stripped the last of his restraint away.
"shit..” he choked out, burying his face in your neck as his body tensed. "you're gonna make me..”
with a deep, guttural groan, he thrusts into you hard, once, twice and then stilled completely.
you felt it, he came inside you, each wave shuddering through his body and into yours.
he collapsed against you slightly, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breathing ragged and raw.
for long moments, there was only the sound of the forest breathing around you and your hearts beating in sync.
finally, he lifted his head just enough to look at you, eyes soft now.
he cupped your face, thumb brushing your sweaty forehead. "you okay?" he whispered, still out of breath.
you managed a nod, too spent to form words just yet.
he huffed a small laugh, lips finding your temple.
he pulled out slowly, gently and immediately wrapped his arms around you as your legs finally gave way. his warmth didn't leave you, not even for a second, as he lowered himself to the soft moss beneath, pulling you on top of him with care.
he sat with your back pressed to his chest, legs cradling yours, tail curling snugly around your waist.
one hand smoothed damp strands of hair from your face, the other rested low on your stomach, possessive and tender all at once.
"you're incredible," he murmured into your ear, pressing a kiss just behind it.
you leaned into him completely.
his voice dropped lower. "i should've done this years ago."
༻༺
hiii! i hope you guys enjoy this one of neteyam! as always, reblogs, likes and comments are very helpful and i appreciate all of you guys who choose to support my work!
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 Neteyam and you had grown up together, had sharpened each other like two arrowheads. You thought that meant everything, until you see Ka'vina has taken your place.
Despite the high stakes, hunting always brought you a sense of peace.
There were repetitive motions that you followed for every hunt, ones that felt as familiar as breathing at this point in your life.
Every hunter must remember first scan their area, they must be familiar with the routines of the yerik packs, must be aware of where palulukan reside and hunt, must be wise to acknowledge the territory that the angtsìk claim as their own, it is also important that they be wary of the path they take home for nantang’s are known to try and steal a clean kill when the opportunity arises.
Next the hunter must track, keeping everything listed prior in mind. If the yerik tracks stray too close into palulukan territory, the hunter should retreat. If the hunter stumbles into angtsìk grounds, they must remember to show no fear.
Once the hunter has safely tracked a yerik, they should remember to watch their footing. To step lightly, and avoid sticks, leaves or other flora that can alert the yerik that something is around. It is best to find an angle that allows you to stay hidden, a clean kill from a concealed location always fills your chest with pride.
When the hunter is concealed they can then nock their arrow. A slow pull on the bowstring minimizes noise, and leads for more time to correct your aim. But a skillful hunter can nock, draw, and release an arrow before the yerik can even raise the defensive fans that sit upon their heads.
A true aim leads to a clean kill. A spoken prayer to Eywa, sending the yeriks spirit back to hers. And thanking the yerik for its sacrifice, for feeding the clan, and providing precious materials in the form of hides.
Finally the hunter must decide on if they will haul the entire yerik back to the home tree; or if they will only take the most valuable cuts of meat, and the largest spans of hide to carry back and leave the rest for other forest creatures to feast on.
You rarely chose to leave any of your catch. Years of training left you strong, you could easily haul your kills home. It did not matter if it left an ache in your shoulders, or if a twinge settled in your lower back.
As you approach hometree you begin to wonder if you should have at least taken a bit of the breast meat. You knew it was Neteyams favorite, and it would be a good way to show him not only your hunting prowess, that you are attuned to him. That you see him.
It is a nice thought. To court someone you have been pining after most of your life. But then you find yourself too close to hometree to dismount the yerik from your shoulders and you chuckle at how much your mind wandered on the way home.
You make your way through the clan, greeting people as you make your way to the carvers. They would slice the hide from the yeriks body and hang it to dry before cutting up your kill into as many satisfying, equal portions as possible to be prepared for the cookfire tonight.
Mou comes to greet you, “Thank you taronyu.” He grabs the yerik from where you’ve placed it. “Do you wish for a specific cut? Perhaps you would like some of the hide?”
It was traditional for the carvers to ask if the hunter would like a specific piece of their kill. But that would also take away the significance of offering a piece of meat as a courting display.
“I do not wish for it. You know you do not have to ask me that every time I bring you a kill, Mou.”
He laughs at you, finding your blank tone amusing, “It is tradition.”
“It is stupid. Have I ever asked you to do this for me?”
“No, but one never knows when ferocious hunters like you may grow lazy.”
Mou tosses a grin over his shoulder as he hauls your kill away and towards the group of waiting carvers. He was never one to take your brazen demeanor as rudeness, he knew you spoke your mind and let your feelings be known even in uncomfortable situations.
You scoff at him as you leave. As if you would ever become lazy. How could he have the audacity to even think of such a concept?
The clan is bustling as you shift through; children are running around with their wooden toys, singers are practicing the ancient songs, there are bigger hunting parties returning with their kills, even the weaving circle is louder than usual.
It brings a slight grin to your face, seeing the people happy makes you happy. You had more than enough time to take a quick nap, and then head to the river to wash up before dinner would be served. Maybe if you skipped the nap you could take your beloved ikran out for a flight and wash at one of the hot springs that sparsely resided in the Ayram Alusìng.
Yes.
That would be nice, it could ease the tension in your shoulders.
It is settled. Instead of heading back to your kelku, you pivot to climb up hometree. The ikrans rest at the highest level, but you’ve been climbing almost as long as you’ve been walking so you would reach it shortly.
As you arrive at the base of hometree and start to find some solid footing a call of your name comes across the clearing. Your eyes close, a sigh heaving through your lips. With a turn of your head you survey the area, you know the voice, and have heard it almost everyday since she learned how to speak.
You spot Kiri weaving her way through the clan, her hand raised in a beckoning motion. “Come search with me for some paywll.”
“They are far Kiri. We will not arrive back before the cookfire starts.”
She is face to face with you now, her tail undulates as she speaks. “You have never minded missing a bit of the cookfire.”
Your lips purse, a crease forming between your brows in mock debate.
“Please.” Kiri grasps your hand before turning around and tugging you behind her.
Laughter bubbles uncontrollably out of your chest, “Kiri – Wait! I have not said yes yet!”
“You would have said yes regardless, now come. I will carry the gourd now, you may carry it back when it is full.”
You were only supposed to be txantxewm, lingering over her shoulder to shoo predators away. Now she wants you to work too! Unbelievable.
It’s hours later when Kiri and you approach hometree again. You’ve ended up carrying not only the gourd filled with medicinal liquid, but also the leaves of paywll, which are packed into a basket that rests on your hip.
You pass the cookfire on your way to the Tsa’hiks kelku. It’s lively as ever; drums are being beaten creating a tune for the singers to perform to, there's a group of clan members dancing, and the younger members have begun to section off into groups.
Kiri is half a step in front of you, excited to drop off the items her grandmother requested and finally be done with her Tsakarem training for the day. You allow your eyes to skim over the faces, searching for Neteyams, you’d like to know where you should move to after you deliver the materials to Mo’at.
It takes you a few moments to find him. He’s settled all the way across the gathering, surrounded by other young hunters, a few climbers and weavers as well. He normally sits on the edge of the group, saving space on one of his sides for you. You’re unsurprised to see he’s flanked by Fay’ru, the other male trying to get into the future Olo’eyktan’s good graces.
You’re unable to conceal your look of shock at Ka’vina sitting on Neteyams other side. She has never joined your group before, always softly tucked into the weavers circle or sitting with her sister where the singers congregate. You school your expression before someone can see you trying to dissect Ka’vina from the inside out.
Neteyam had always rejected anyone from closing him in. He would kindly redirect them towards another seat, reminding them that he had saved his closest friend the seat they had just tried to sit in.
Neteyam was a strong warrior, a strong hunter, and as his father would say he has a ‘backbone’. So there would be no reason for him to allow her to sit in your spot.
But he was of age, in his prime years.
He was strong. He filled out his body well in recent years. He gained some of his fathers unnatural width. His old armbands no longer fit, having to become bracelets or being stored away for his future children. His cummerbund also barely fit now, but he refused to part with it until it absolutely no longer fit.
He was kind. He took on responsibilities of other clan members when he could see them struggling. He helped the elders with carrying their baskets, he had even carved them walking sticks to steady them on their paths.
He was the youngest hunter to ever get a clean kill on a sturmbeest. Very few of the current hunters had prowess that rivaled his. He frequently led the younger hunters when they went out, making time to help them hone in on their skills.
Neteyam also frequented the training grounds, not for his own skills. He had been bestowed the honor of training new warriors. Of teaching them the ways of the Omatikaya, making sure they had every required skill to complete their Iknimayas.
Ka’vina was a stark opposite.
She spent most of her time around hometree, never venturing out into the forest unless accompanied by a warrior.
She weaved many things. Tewngs, chest coverings, chokers, bracelets, armbands, cummerbunds, bowstrings, baskets, hammocks, floor mats. The list could continue on and on.
She was knowledgeable of healing herbs, the best spices to use on meats at the cookfire, aware of how to properly prepare some tough to handle roots and fruits for consumption as well.
However she was naive.
You knew she did not know how to hunt. Did not know how to skin a yerik, how to aim at a herd of sturmbeest; you were not even sure she knew what animals were aggressive and which were kind.
Her hands were soft, not even calloused with the countless hours spent weaving. You didn’t think she even wielded a bow. Hardly believed that she knew a knife could be used to do anything other than chop roots. It showed how simple her life was, how different she was from Neteyam. How different she was from you.
Then it dawned on you. Neteyam must be courting her. As they say ‘opposites attract’ and her softness would be a perfect compliment to the firm hand he would come to lead with.
A piercing feeling shot into your chest.
You’ve been following Kiri silently this whole time. She had glanced back at you occasionally, mostly to make sure you were still following her, but she could tell you didn’t want to speak based on the carefully crafted expression on your face.
Mo’at greets you as you duck into the tent, on autopilot you respond.Then you’re asking her where she’d like the gourd and the basket, placing them down with a delicately crafted care before bidding your goodbyes.
“I will join you at the cookfire shortly.”
“Ah. I will be heading home.” You shake your head, the beads braided into your hair clacking with the motion. “Let me know if you require aid harvesting more herbs. Goodnight Kiri, Tsa’hik.”
With sudden, jerky motions you duck back out of the tent. You can hear Kiri protesting, trying to encourage you to at least pick up a niktsyey before heading home. It’s pleasant to know that she cares, but you don’t think you could face Neteyam so shortly after your realization.
Unfortunately you have to walk past the cookfire again to reach your kelku, it being on the opposite side of the village from the Tsa’hiks. You were a skilled hunter, a warrior when needed, and you knew how to camouflage, how to avoid being seen.
Taking a steadying breath, you head more towards the forest, where it would be easier to blend into the flora. Easier to slip past your friends. Easier to avoid the new reality you’d have to live in.
You’re only a few steps away from rockier terrain when a five fingered hand grasps your wrist. Whipping around you come face to face with Lo’ak.
He’s grinning, clearly happy to catch you and hinder you from heading home, “Come, I need your support in an argument with Vor’lan.”
He doesn’t listen before starting to drag you towards his friends. What is it with these Sullys and refusing to wait for an answer!
“Lo’ak. I am tired, I have been out all day.”
“That is fine. It will be quick, and you can have my last niktsyey as payment.”
You scoff, “No. I have not had time to wash, I do not wish to be around people.”
“My friends do not care.” He turns to face you briefly before continuing to drag you, “To be fair, they will probably still drool over you.”
“Lo’ak!” An incredulous gasp tears from your throat.
A boyish laugh leaves him, “It is true! So do not worry about the smell, just back me up okay?”
In reality you could dig your heels into the dirt and yank your wrist free of his grasp. You were still stronger than him, your muscles more taut, more prepared to fight back than his. But the soft spot in your heart reserved for the Sully kids aches. So you allow him to drag you to where his friends reside at the cookfire.
You allow him to shove the niktsyey into your palm, along with a carved up filled with something that he definitely should not be drinking. The food and drink loosen you up, allow you to relax a little bit, to find a way to enjoy the company you’re in.
When Lo’ak retells his story about the tslikllte he caught, all of his friends doubt him. No one believing he saw one of the creatures this far inland. But then he’s looking at you, “She was there, tell them! Tell Vor’lan specifically how I bested it.”
You take another swig of your drink, swishing it around your mouth as you decide how much to talk up Lo’ak. “I was not there when Lo’ak stumbled upon it.”
“Hey! You so wer -”
“Hush. When I arrived you were already wrestling the poor thing.” You gulp down a few more sips before beginning to swirl the drink around in your cup.
You’re barely helping Lo’aks case and he has to defend his honor, “I had thought it to be dead already!”
“Any skxawng should know that they can hold their breath. Nevermind that does not matter. I have never seen a grip as strong as Lo’aks.”
His friends are leaning in closer now, staring intently at you, the expressions you make, the way your eyes flit over each of them.
“The tslikllte are coated to make them slick, and yet, Lo’ak never faltered. He managed to keep it in his grasp even as he removed a hand to retrieve his knife.” You begin to rest against the log everyone had gathered around, knowing that your job was done and you can fall into a nice limbo until you retire for the night, “The taste was like nothing I have experienced before, I couldn’t be happier to have tried it.”
Their conversation flows freely after that. They talk about climbing tomorrow, which mountains are best, where they can get the best views, or the best ones to try tricks on their ikrans around. It then flows to why they chose the colors that decorate their arrows. It ebbs briefly into relationships, and who’d they’d like to court after completing their dream hunts. It takes a turn into how some of them would rather mess around with many people before settling and that brings a chuckle to your tongue.
The conversation had been settled into which piece of a sturmbeest was best when it suddenly goes quiet. All eyes are focused behind where you and Lo’ak sit and would make you nervous if you weren’t such a strong warrior; scratch that, it would make you nervous if you did not have so much of the fermented drink settled in your belly.
You’re about to open your mouth and ask what has everyone staring when there's abruptly hands on your shoulders. The voice that follows sends a shiver of rigidity down your spine.
“What are we talking about, hm?”
One of Lo’aks friends speaks up, “The best part of a sturmbeest.”
“Ah, it is easily the thigh.” Neteyams hands begin to lightly massage your shoulders, feeling the tension that formed, “You do not mind if I steal her, right?”
It was a rhetorical question, and everyone knew it. You may have loved Lo’ak, willing to do almost anything he had asked. But you were still Neteyams closest friend, it was a no brainer that you would hightail it out of there as soon as you were asked. Still out of respect, they shook their heads, bidding you a goodbye.
“I am exhausted Neteyam, it would be best if I head back to my kelku now.” You’ve stood to make your point. Turning around to face Neteyam, hoping he did not see the cracks in your composure.
“I will be quick,” He smiles at you, one of the genuine ones that shows his true inner happiness, “ there is someone I want you to meet.”
Oh. You absolutely could not go over there. The stories you knew of Ka’vina were enough to satiate your need to ever meet her.
Neteyam begins to tug you by your hand, as both his siblings had earlier. These damn Sullys and not taking a hint!
This time you dig your feet, you don’t let him drag you towards that woman. Your reaction would ruin your reputation in the clan.
“I really am tired, Neteyam,” You turn to Lo’ak, “Did I not say the same to you before you dragged me here?”
Lo’ak nods, remembering how you had complained hours earlier. He doesn’t understand why you’re denying Neteyam though, he doesn’t think you’ve done that in all his years of knowing you.
“Then I will walk you home.”
He turns in the direction of your kelku, seemingly pleased to just be in your presence after not seeing you all day. You let him drag you a few steps, just far enough that you’re sure his brother and his friends can no longer hear you.
“I wish to walk alone.”
Neteyams tail slows to a still in front of you, his ears flick forward to catch any and everything you say, “...But I have not seen you all day.”
What are you supposed to say? ‘I know, I’ve lived this day as well?’ or better yet, ‘I have seen you, but chosen to not acknowledge your presence as it makes me sick.’ Neither option feels right so you stay silent.
“I wish to walk you home so we can talk.”
“I do not have energy for conversation.”
“You had energy when entertaining Lo’ak’s friends.” Irritation is obvious in his tone, and his tail begins to whip back and forth harshly.
“I was not saying much, just sitting in their presence.” You finally meet his eyes, trying to drive home your point, “Just let me walk by myself tonight, please.”
The disappointment settles heavily on Neteyams features as he comes to terms with the fact that you will not allow him to do this, he grunts some noncommittal reply before heading back towards his friends who remain at the cookfire.
You should have left after that, stomped your way to your kelku, grabbed a nice warm pelt, and tucked into your hammock. Instead you watch Neteyam through the crowd, eyes following as his figure settles back onto the log, and he allows Ka’vina to settle into his side a bit more than is considered friendly.
The stabbing pain settles back in your chest. It pulses a bit the longer you watch but it does not matter anymore. You would have to fall into a new routine in the morning, sure that Ka’vina would not want you close to Neteyam as they start courting.
Before you know it four eclipses have passed and you’ve successfully avoided Neteyam for all of them. You hunt early in the mornings, leaving before most of the hunting parties have even woken up for the day. You return with your kills lighter than normal, taking enough meat to satiate yourself until the next day.
When you complete your duties you take to flying. Not the usual routes that the hunters would take, or the ones that the warriors would patrol around, just drifting with the wind patterns. Your face ends up windburnt from how much time you’ve been spending up there.
If your head isn’t literally in the clouds, you take to climbing. The hobby wasn’t your favorite, and that’s what made it the perfect diversion. You could head back out to the forest, finding a good tree to observe Eywas beauty from. Sometimes, you’d just climb hometree, heading all the way to the top to give your ikran some special treatment.
Regardless of how, you strayed from your normal paths. If you avoided them, Neteyam shouldn’t be able to track you down. And hopefully he would get the point, would understand that your paths were unwinding from each other, that they were branching off in different directions for the first time.
It hurts to avoid him. But it was better than facing him. Better than seeing him with Ka’vina. Better than watching their love flourish, and hearing the gossip spread about what a perfect pair they make.
The fifth day starts like the rest. You wake, change your tewng and chest piece, eat some fruit you had foraged the day before, slide on your knife holster and knife, and toss your bow across your back.
As you emerge from your kelku a sense of loneliness sits in your chest. You missed hunting with your friends. Missed fooling around with them at the cookfire. Missed accompanying Kiri on her foraging. Missed doing stupid shit with Lo’ak under the guise of being a responsible figure. You really missed Neteyam.
Missed flying with him. Missed hunting with him. Missed training with him. Missed indulging Tuk with him. Hell you even missed rebraiding his hair.
But your heart can only take so much. The images of him with Ka’vina flow freely into your head, reminding you of why you needed the distance, of why you needed to become a ghost in your own home.
A shout of your name halts you in your tracks. The Olo’eyktan has one of the most noticeable voices in the whole clan. You take a deep breath before turning to face him
“Good Morning, Olo’eyktan.” You raise your hand in the traditional greeting, “What can I do for you?”
Jake greets you back, “None of that formal shit kid,” then he’s yanking you into a hug. Your arms wrap sheepishly around his back, uncomfortable with the gesture due to the state of your and Neteyams relationship.
“You can say no, but Neteyams a little tied up at the moment so I was hoping you could train the young ones for a little while?”
As if you could say no to the Olo’eyktan. Jealousy claws at your heart, Ka’vina has Neteyam so busy with his courting that he can’t even tend to his duties?
“Of course, I will head there now.”
This would be good. Your friends would probably be there, and it could solve your loneliness problem, maybe you could even get a few good spars in and disguise them as ‘training demonstrations’. A skip finds your step on your way to the training grounds and for the first time in many eclipses you feel excited.
A small part of you hopes that Lo’ak would be there, that he’d force you to go on an adventure with him after training. And you could ask to bring Kiri along, satiating most of your need to hang out with the Sully kids.
You can’t think about the Sully kids without including Neteyam. You want to reminisce about happy memories, want to think about all the future good memories to come, but then Ka’vina inches her way into your mind. The image of them together at the cookfire, sitting too close for comfort.
But you won’t see them, they’ll be too busy taking strolls through the forest. Or maybe they’re flying their ikrans in spirals around each other. Perhaps they were climbing through the ayram alusìng, going higher and higher until they reached the alluring hot springs.
It’d be preferable to not think about the way Ka’vina would undress.
Would she save her modesty and undress after submerging, hoping that her loincloth and chest covering would dry before they emerged again? Or would she make a show of it, slowly unclipping her chest covering, slowly dragging it down to reveal her breast. Would she move onto the loincloth and make a show of that too?
And Neteyam. Would he watch, become so enticed with the show that he couldn’t avert his eyes? Or would he be the gentleman he was raised to be, letting Ka’vina undress and submerge in the warm water, allowing the steam time to curl over her body before finally turning around and entering the spring himself.
Oh Eywa, you were going to be sick. Why would you torment yourself with such thoughts?
A few steadying breaths flow into your lungs. The nausea is still present, but you know once you start teaching that it will subside for good.
You see the familiar shape of Tal’kren. He is performing on the archery targets, taking them from odd angles and showing off to the young ones before their lesson begins. You nock an arrow and wait, deciding when the best moment would be to make your presence known.
Tal’kren takes aim and you eye his stance to figure out which target he is aiming at. You determine it must be the target woven between many trees, the one nearly 100 meters away, farther than any of the young hunters could even dream about reaching.
You let your arrow soar just milliseconds after his does. From the angle everyone is watching from they cannot see your arrow trailing his. Tal’kren’s arrow sinks into the bullseye of the target with a satisfying thump.
Your arrow splits his a millisecond later with a much more satisfying crack. Fifteen heads start turning, searching for who released the arrow.
“Pxi kan, taronyutsyìp,” Tal’krens voice rings out. Finding you much before the trainees did.
You smile, laughing, “I am not little, just taronyu is fine.”
Tal’kren claps a hand on your shoulder before bringing you in for a hug. As you pull back, he keeps the hand on your shoulder “I assume you are my partner for today?”
“I am,” You want to show camaraderie, and encourage the trainees to cultivate similar relationships so you make no move to remove his hand from your shoulder. “The Olo’eyktan has asked me to step in for the foreseeable future.”
The young trainees murmur excitedly; your name is one that is usually spoken in soft whispers so for you to join in on their sessions for a while seemed like a blessing from Eywa. They could complain, wishing it was you and Neteyam training them, that they could have both of the best future warriors teaching them.
But they normally had Neteyam, had spent months learning from him and Tal’kren. Now they could learn your ways, and they could learn how to make their own unique style based on the two of you.
Days pass like this. The trainees soaking up your knowledge. Letting you adjust their stances, pull their strings more taught, sharpen the arrowheads that dulled from constant use.
Today you’re standing face to face with Opani when you hear the familiar timber of Neteyams voice. Your ears flick in annoyance, because of course Neteyam had to show up, but then you’re focusing on the young warrior in front of you.
Looking down towards the target you can see she is off, leaning more left than she should. It may be because of your proximity so you chide her gently, “Adjust to the right, if you were to take the shot now you would not hit a kill shot.”
She exhales roughly through her nose, you believe it to be from nerves and not irritation so you do not scold her. Then she shifts, leaning slightly more into your personal space. As she releases the arrow you hear Neteyam’s voice again.
This time you flick your head to angle it over your shoulder. Where was he? Why did it sound as if his voice was getting closer?
Beside you Opani releases a shout of joy, and that forces you to face front again. She's already staring at you, jumping a little from excitement. Flicking your eyes to the target you can see she hit the bullseye perfectly.
You ruffle her braids, giving her some words of encouragement before telling her to go retrieve her arrow and try again. After she runs off you redirect your attention in Neteyams direction.
You must be off your game, any skilled hunter should be able to differentiate from all current sounds around them. Yet, you somehow managed to miss Ka’vina’s voice. Seeing her renders you motionless; Your ears press against your skull, your tail falls flat, eyes drifting over every piece of her.
It takes you a few moments to notice Neteyam is in front of her, his back to you. They assume the same positions you and Opani were just in. It feels different this time though.
With you and Opani it was obvious that you were teacher and student. With Neteyam and Ka’vina it seemed as if it was a date. Instead of their movements being out of necessity, they had a sensual tone to them.
Neteyam uses his hand to raise Ka’vinas elbow higher, he watches the arrowhead carefully to make sure her aim is true. She turns towards him, saying something that you can’t hear.
You can see how he raises his fingers to grasp her chin. He tilts it back towards the target, encouraging her to always keep her eyes where her arrow is aimed.
The feeling that settles in your stomach makes you disgusted with yourself. They’re a well suited couple. Anyone with eyes could tell you that. They would make a good Olo’eyktan and Tsa’hik.
A good couple to lead the Omatikaya.
And here you were, upset at their presence. Upset that they were falling into love in the public eye. Upset that Neteyam hadn’t even told you he was considering courting Ka’vina.
You wondered which piece she wore was Neteyams courting gift. Was it the bracelet, the deep brown twine, mixed with blue and green beads that match her skin and the tones of the forest?
Or was it the choker, lined with polished river rocks lining her collarbone?
You couldn’t let your mind linger any longer. Couldn’t allow it to make you detest your closest friend.
So you find Tal’kren, alert him of some sudden illness you’ve come down with, and leave for the day. You could rest, and allow your mind to drift to other things. It would be smarter to head to the Tree of Souls. To make an honest prayer to Eywa for her to help you move on.
She would help you, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to let go yet.
You wanted to seem more alluring, something to attract attention at the clan gatherings. Not that you were actively seeking a mate, but it would be nice to see who is interested. Nice to see how many options you had, if any.
You knew you were rough around the edges. Knew that you spoke harsher than most liked. That your hands were rough from years of use. That you had nasty scars littering your body. That you had more muscle than the typical lithe Na’vi woman.
And you knew it had to make you less desirable. That the men must have wanted someone easier. Someone who thought before they spoke, and chose their words carefully so you could fall upon them like a pillow instead of a rock.
But that does not mean that everyone would dislike you, there has to be someone in the clan who sees your beneficial qualities. Someone who you could live your life with.
If there wasn’t you would prefer to know sooner rather than later. To decide if you should seek out a mate from a different clan.
So you seek our Kiri. A skilled weaver, knowledgeable in the proper herbs to stain cloths, and good company.
You had decided on a nice deep red. It was a color not typically worn by the Omatikaya as it did not blend in with the forest fauna - therefore it would draw the most attention.
“So, I have not seen you around the gatherings much.” Kiri drawls, keeping her head towards her weaving but angling her eyes to see you.
Your fingers don’t stop their meticulous patterns, “I have been there. Just last night I ate with Lo’ak.”
“Yes, but you skip at least 4 cookfires a week.”
“I tire easily, you know of my many duties.”
Kiri scoffs, but decides against responding. Her silence allows you to pick up a new bead, weaving it onto the side of where the cloth will hang. You’ve decided on white beads, and silvery polished river stones. They compliment the red well, they will also bring more attention to your waist, clacking and clashing with every step.
You decide on a symmetrical look. Two braided strands on each side. The farthest one shorter than the one that rests closest to the cloth. It will look nice.
Will it matter? Will the males of the clan really focus on the little details or only focus on what rests underneath?
You knew Neteyam would notice, that he would mention that the symmetry helped your internal equilibrium. Helped keep you centered in the rough moments. Not that you couldn’t function if your garments were asymmetrical, but he knew you were always a hair more sure of your aim.
But you were not wearing it for him. So what he thought did not matter. However this left you with a good idea on what to focus on when approached. Knew what you wanted to hear, and what you did not.
As you tie off the last bead on the tewng a sense of accomplishment falls upon you. You gaze upon your work lovingly; proud that even though your hands are rougher than the weavers, you can still produce a good piece.
It’s during your admiration that Kiri speaks again, “I require more twine.”
“The great mother has bestowed you with two legs and two arms, you can go retrieve your own twine.”
“I will fall out of rhythm, and then who knows how long it will take me to complete this piece.”
Your sharp words never phased Kiri, never shoved her away. You guessed it was good enough reason to go and retrieve more twine from the weavers circle.
As you stand and begin to pad away, you can hear Kiri shout some sort of thanks and you lift your hand in acknowledgement.
You were aware of many women in the weavers circle. Most of them are siblings to people you’ve hunted with, some girls you grew up with, others were elders who taught you how to weave at the beginning of your life.
A polite, simple greeting would do. You could say hello as you’re reaching for the twine. Exchange niceties, as you unspool the amount you guessed Kiri needed. And unsheath your knife and cut the twine before any deep conversations began to form.
You keep your head down as you reach for the twine and greet the circle. Everyone murmurs a similar greeting back and you are content to leave it as that. They know why you are here and do not need to indulge in conversation.
“Ma’numeyu, how have you been?” Rinak is speaking, drawing your eyes up from where the rest. She taught you how to weave when you were just a babe, toddling around camp looking for things to do.
“I have been well, and you Rinak?”
“I am also well numeyu, but I am disappointed that you have not eaten with me in many moons.”
You unsheath your knife, angling it safely to tear through the taught line of twine, “I am sorry. I will eat with you tonight if you will have me.”
“Of course I would.” Rinak chuckles, as if amused by the idea that she would shun your company away.
You smile back at her, pleased with how easily this has went. You have not run into Ka’vina or any of her friends, and have not had to exchange fake niceties with them. This will be counted as a win in your book.
But then you turn, ready to stand and head back to where you and Kiri have been hanging out as you weaved. And there, at the far side of the circle rests Ka’vina. Sitting knee-to-knee with her is Neteyam. He is weaving something, what you cannot tell, but Ka’vina is intently studying it.
Neteyam is looking at you though, his head tilted as if he is curious, and his hands only loosely grip his work. It is as if he is hunting; his eyes remain wide even after he blinks, not wanting to miss any movement from his prey.
You meet his eyes, frozen in place from his gaze. It would be improper to run, but it would be too awkward to walk over and say hello at this point. The tension grows around the circle, other members slowly noticing the way that the two of you are staring at each other.
The tension snaps like a bowstring when Ka’vina tugs on the piece in Neteyams hand. His eyes bolt to hers, ears flicking forward to catch every word that she says. That is your moment to move, so you run with it.
One of your hands raises as you bid everyone good weaving and goodbye. You force yourself to maintain a normal pace, not wanting Neteyam to see you run away. For him to know how openly you despise choice.
Upon returning to Kiri, you silently drop the twine, pressing a hand to her shoulder in greeting as you pass. She does not speak however, simply tying the two pieces together so she can continue working on her piece.
You’ve tucked your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them as you stew in your thoughts. Kiri must have known about Neteyams chosen one by now. Ka’vina must have been formally introduced to the Sullys, and therefore Kiri. And Kiri was the best judge of character, if she were to say Ka’vina was a good pick, you would believe it.
A whispered call of her name leaves your lips. You hope she misses it. Hope that it blends in with the pleasured yelps of the children, or the distant roars of the ikrans, even the chatter of the passing group of hunters.
But it does not, and Kiri responds much louder than you would like.
“What is it?”
“What are your thoughts on Ka'vina?” You can feel her eyes boring into the side of your head, but you refuse to look at her.
“She is a good weaver.”
This is common knowledge, Kiri must know you do not care about it. “What else?”
“If she did not wish to weave, she could easily join the singers.”
She must be egging you on. Wanting you to expose what you really feel before she says anything. You would think that a hunter as skilled as yourself would have more patience. You snap all the same, falling right into Kiris trap, “Yes. I know this. Everyone knows this. I want to know what you think about her deeply.”
“I think she is a good person. That she has many skills to help around hometree, and is known to assist the children and elders, but is unwise when it comes to other tasks.” Kiri is still staring at you even as she finishes her piece, “Why do you ask?”
You could not tell her the reason. Even if she sensed it, it would be wrong considering that Ka'vina was to be her sister. It could be worked out, where had you seen Ka'vina? Where had she piqued your interest?
“She has come around the training grounds recently and I could not think of why.” Finally you let your eyes drift to Kiris, hoping that there are no emotions swirling in your amber pools, “It makes sense with what you said. She needs to become fluent in many skills, not just a few.”
Kiri stares at you, eyes flicking over your face. Then to your ears, and briefly to your tail. Trying to assess how you feel internally from your body language. When she senses no showing of a lie a smile graces her face.
Then she's tossing the piece she crafted into your face. You grab it before it can slide and meet the dusty ground. As it rests in your palms you notice the red, white, and polished river stones that accent it.
“I made it so you could have a matching set tonight.”
At that, you gape at her. She had gone through all this trouble for you?
“Well don’t just look at me! Do you like it?”
“Yes, very much. Thank you Kiri.” You’ve stood now, crossing the small clearing to toss yourself onto her as a full body thanks.
“You skxawng get off of me!”
The two of you tousle a bit, acting like children getting into their first scuffle. But then you are off of her, and running in the direction of your kelku to get ready for the cookfire tonight.
It is almost eclipse, which means you have enough time to change slowly, put your braids up in a different style and meander your way back to the center of hometree.
On your way back Tal’kren calls for you. He must have also stopped at his kelku before heading to the cookfire.
“Hello Tal’kren, how were the trainees today?” You call back over your shoulder, refusing to stop for him, but walking at a slower pace nonetheless.
“They were fine. No more rowdy than usual. Though they listened les-” Tal’krens voice trails off, and when you turn to look at him he is already staring at you, “What are you wearing?”
You’re approaching the cookfire now, but you still choose to indulge him, “It is new, how do I look?” You give a childish spin, showing all angles of your new outfit.
You can feel more eyes than just his as you sit and wait for a response. But it is not worth searching for who is staring at you when you have a perfectly fine archer right in front of you. If you’re lucky he will say something that will make you believe he has more going on in his head besides arrows, bowstrings, and bows.
“It is very sevin,” Tal’kren gulps, a light shade of indigo coming to his cheeks and the tips of his ears, “You are sevin.”
It was not the best compliment, but you would not deny that it made something flutter in your stomach. It was nice to be seen as something other than a txantxewm taronyu.
“Thank you Tal’kren.” You begin to walk towards where you know Rinak likes to sit, “I will see you after I have eaten, yes?”
“Yes. I will be with some of our other friends over here.” He gestures in a general direction, not moving until he sees you nod in acceptance of his words.
The night moves smoothly from then. You talk with the elders, inform them of the current happenings of your life, what new herb you decided you liked on your meat. They in turn spoke about other things you may enjoy, what fruits could enhance the flavor of certain meats, special herbs only the most skilled climbers could eat.
It was nice to speak with them, to gain some wisdom, but it was even nicer sitting around with people you knew.
First it was Lo’ak. His group sat between Rinak and Kiris groups, and he had made fast work of snagging your arm as you passed by. They indulged you in more fermented juice, happy to provide whatever you desired to keep you with them.
You missed the way that Loak's young friends eyed you. Missed how their eyes traced over your chest covering. How they seemed to stop at every bead, or rock, that dimpled the pattern. He had said they ‘drooled over you,’ but in your eyes they were just children, and there was no way they’d be interested in you.
Then Kiri and her group came to join. She had said something about how it was ‘Forbidden to hide from her’ when she crafted you such a beautiful piece. Her friends eyed your new cloths with jealous eyes. The color combination was something they had not considered to be allowed.
You still ignored their gazes. Knowing they mostly wanted to know what weaving pattern Kiri used, and what herb was used to dye the clothes and twine. Not that they cared about you as a person or the body that rests underneath the cloths.
There was a good mix of people, the feeling of the group never becoming tense or uncomfortable. There was currently an exchange of the bravest, most death defying things they had gotten away with.
You had decided that was your time to go join Tal’kren. If you heard too much about what Lo’ak or Kiris friends got up to, you would feel the need to implore them to be safer. So you asked them to top off your drink before you headed off.
As you approach, only two pairs of eyes flick to you. The first being Neteyams, it would seem as if his eyes followed you the entire way from across the fire, but that would be a silly thought. Especially considering Ka’vina was still pressed closely into his side.
The next is Tal’kren. He grins widely as you get closer to where he rests on the log. Already moving to rise before you even fully reach him, “Would you like to sit?”
“It is fine, may I brace my back on your legs though?” You did not wish to have the rough bark mar your skin.
He plants his feet a bit away from the log, steadying them before nodding, “Of course.”
Their conversation is equally as lively as the other groups. Once again discussing trick shots they have taken during sturmbeest hunts.
They first discuss the ones that do not count. This only means they got scolded for it after as it did not result in a kill, was reckless, wasted resources, disrupted the formation, or all of the above.
Once the group had ran through those, they switched to ones that did count. Ones that ended in a kill, clean or not. These were much more important, as the elders would try to scold you, but they had rarely any footing because the clan was still fed.
The only person who could not produce a story was Ka’vina, and it did not bring a sense of pity to your chest. Instead it just reminded you how different she was. Even if she did participate in the hunts, would she want to engage in such activities? What did she even consider fun?
You’ve been avoiding where she and Neteyam were sitting. It was not against them, but you were unsure of how you would act, and you preferred to keep this night enjoyable.
So when someone grasps your bicep and yanks, you are shocked. Before you even have time to identify who it is you’re being tugged backwards.
“Hey-” You stumble over a rock, nearly falling to your knees before you regain your composure, “Just wait a second!”
“I will not.” Neteyams voice is gruff, like he had to force the words through clenched teeth.
You’re furiously pulling your arm now, the cookfire is glowing dimly in the distance, and you cannot believe the audacity of this man. “You will!”
With that final motion, you are able to tug your arm free. And you spin rapidly to face Neteyam, appalled at his actions.
“What was that?”
“It was necessary.”
“By Eywa, in what world was that necessary?”
Neteyam does not grant you a response. He stands in front of you, huffing a little bit with his eyes towards the ground. His ears flick at every sound, and his tail lashes aggressively behind him.
“You are a grown man, and I know your tongue has not been cut out, so speak.”
His eyes meet yours briefly before softly uttering, “They were looking at you as if you were a piece of meat.”
“I cannot understand mumbling Neteyam,” When he doesn’t make any move to speak again you turn to leave.
“I said they were looking at you as if you were a piece of meat.” The last words spit from his mouth like acid, like they physically pained him to say.
“So what if they were?”
“They should not do such things.”
“Why is that?” You come close to him. Because of the height difference you still have to peer up at him, but you hope your intimidating presence is enough to cut him down a bit, “Why should they not look at me?”
“It is unbecoming of a hunter. They should know better.”
And you laugh, right in his face. “Unbelievable. You are truly, unbelievable Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan.” Then you stalk off, rushing in the direction of your kelku, hoping you can make it in and tie the flaps shut before the tears run down your lashline.
One would think they would want to spare the feelings of someone they grew up with. That they would find a way to soften the blow, not make the impact harder.
If he found you so undesirable, why could he not find another way to say it?
The winds flow freely through your hair. You had unbraided it, wishing to wash it before braiding new beads and feathers into it.
You’re flying on your ikran, heading to one of the hot springs you’ve been aching to dip into for weeks now. Your favorite one rests inside a cave on one of the mountains.
There is just enough space for your ikran to land, truly hiding the space from anyone who doesn’t know it exists. However it also meant that you could never know who’s inside without entering yourself.
But you had left long after the clan had settled for the night. Only the embers of the cookfire remained, and you passed many sleeping members of the clan on the way up hometree. There was no doubt that you would be alone.
You step slowly into the space, admiring the bioluminescence that lit up the cave. Stripping quickly you almost dive into the water with your haste. The hot water instantly releases some tension in your shoulders.
There are natural ledges around the border of the pool, you find one and take a seat. You’ve been very busy recently and deserve the chance to relax.
Before you can get too comfortable you take to scrubbing your scalp. The goal is to remove any dirt, dust, or grime that may have gotten caught up in your tightly wound braids. But that quickly switches to giving yourself a scalp massage.
The motions are nice. They would be even better if it was someone else completing them however, you were not a complainer. You’re unsure how long you sit there for, but you’re sure enough time has passed that you can scrub away at your body now.
Any caked on grime or blood, has become soaked through with the warm water. It slides off your skin easily, showing the vibrant blue shade underneath. You begin to feel more like yourself again, as if you’re shedding your old skin and coming into a new one.
When you turn around, eager to retrieve your waterskin and change positions you're faced with another body. You must have mistaken the sounds of someone else entering the spring with the sounds of your own splashing.
You scoff, “What are you doing here?”
“It is a free hot spring.”
“Yes, but should you not be getting your beauty sleep?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
All the tension you felt leave your body came back. You had specifically came so late as to avoid any of this. Why couldn't Eywa give you a break, just this once. With a deep breath you shut your eyes tightly, and let you head fall against the border.
You would not allow Neteyam to bother you. You have waited many moons to come here, and you would leave when you were ready, not because you were forced out.
Soft ripples distract you from where you’ve let your thoughts drift. Your ears snap to attention, trying to discern if the ripples are moving closer or farther from your location.
Your eyes shoot open when you realize that Neteyam is moving closer to you. “What are you doing.”
You do not pose him a question. You speak the words like a warning, giving him the chance to turn back.
“I am coming deeper so the water may reach my shoulders.”
“Go to that side of the spring then. Do not come closer.”
For a moment you think he will continue moving towards you. That he will attempt to cage you in against the wall and himself, but he moves to where you told him to go. When he gets there you expect him to stay silent.
You have nothing to say to him, nothing nice especially after the cookfire a few nights ago. And whatever he has to say to you, you do not wish to hear.
Minutes tick by in silence. It is not comfortable, some may even say it is suffocating, most would leave. You got here first however, and you refuse to vacate when you came under such perfect conditions to be alone.
Let's be realistic, there were plenty of hot springs he could have picked, why did he come here? He could have left after seeing you already submerged! Quietly backed out, and climbed upon his ikran to find another spring.
The thought irritates you more. It makes you grind your teeth, the anger beginning to simmer in your chest.
“I wish to talk.”
Neteyam had said those same words to you forever ago, when this all began. They had meant less than they do now, but you still feel the same way.
“I do not.”
“Well, we must talk. There is no other wa-”
When you open your eyes, you find Neteyam already staring at you intently, “You cannot force me to talk with you. You are not Olo’ekytan yet, and you do not command me in hunting parties, therefore I do not take orders from you.”
He softly calls your name. If you didn’t know any better you would assume there is a quiver to it, a bit of unsureness. But that would be a silly thought, and you promptly will yourself to stop thinking it.
Suddenly Neteyam is moving closer again. Slowly but surely moving into your side of the spring. When he reaches the halfway point you raise your hand slightly, muttering a quick ‘don’t’ in warning.
That does nothing to deter him. His shoulders begin to glisten from no longer being submerged, droplets cascading down his arms and clavicles in rivulets that remind you how thirsty you had been just a few minutes ago.
Oh Eywa! What were you thinking?
As you get your thoughts back under control Neteyam shifts ever closer. His body comes to rest just a few feet in front of yours. Slowly inching closer, truly trying to cage you like an animal.
“I said to not come closer.”
“And I said we need to speak.”
He thinks you will just sit here? Allow him to force you into speaking? Believes that your nudity embarrasses you enough, that you will allow him to speak?
There is some space between the cave wall and the border of the pool, and if you angled yourself properly you could follow it the entire way back out to where your tewng and chest covering rested. And if you called for your ikran as you were dressing you could be back to hometree within the half hour.
It is decided.
You scooch backwards, using your arms to lift up onto the ledge. It is then that Neteyam finally stops.
Neteyams eyes flick over your body. Your chest, where your nipples have begun to peak in the cooler air, the water that drips down your navel, the way your hips look without the tewng covering them. He does not speak, but an indigo tint falls on his cheeks, rises up his neck, and also hits the tops of his ears.
You stand, wringing out your hair so it does not drip on you as you fly. Pointedly ignoring Neteyams presence, but when he does not continue in his harassment you turn your eyes towards him again.
He is flustered, that much you can tell. At first it makes you a little happy, knowing that you actually do have an effect on him. Then you remember Ka’vina, and the feeling leaves.
“Oh you are disgusting!”
Neteyam sputters out of his trance, “What?”
“Staring! At an undressed woman. Alone! Especially when you are courting another.”
“Oh, yes, yes, sorry.” Then he avoids his gaze, focusing on the water directly in front of him instead.
“Wait.” His eyes raise back to yours, “My courting?”
“Yes. With Ka’vina.”
A disbelieved laugh leaves his lips, “I am not courting Ka’vina.”
“There is no need to lie. I will not tell her about this.”
“I am not lying.” He rises a bit more, grabbing your hand, “Come back in and I will explain.”
You laugh at him, “I am not going back in there with you.”
Eyes flick back towards the entrance of the cave, remembering your earlier plan. The urge to execute that plan comes back. The urge to suddenly be tucked into your woven mat with pelts submerging you in warmth, stronger than anything else.
As you’re debating your escape plan Neteyam sneaks up on you. He places a hand on your thigh another on your waist, and hauls you back into the water. You hiss, smacking his chest.
“You cannot move so rashly!”
“I would like to know how you came to the belief that I was courting Ka’vina.”
You try to thrash a bit. To use the slickness of the water on your behalf, but Neteyams grasp is unrelenting. He does not let you move an inch.
When you try to at least sit down, he still does not let you move. “I will not speak until I can rest.”
“You must lean back then. It would be unpleasant to sit directly down.”
It is then that you realize you are on Neteyam's lap. A flush adorns your face now, realizing the predicament that you’re in. But his grasp still isn't letting up, so you lean back on your haunches. Carefully maneuvering to avoid any unwanted touching.
“Now explain.”
“I saw the two of you at the cookfire, a few moons ago.”
“Yes, I was integrating her into our group.”
“Because you were courting her,” Your hand raises to cover Neteyams mouth, if he wanted you to explain he would have to hear it in entirety before trying to contradict your words.
“I only realized because she had taken my spot next to you. And then the two of you at the training grounds, the way your hand lingered on her.” You move your palm from covering his lips to grasping at his chin, the same way he had done to Ka’vina.
Tossing his head to the side you continue, “Then you were with her at the weaving circle. You had allowed her to critique your work, allowed her to undo the knots and braids you had worked on. You don’t even like to weave.”
Neteyam is peering up at you, his lashes fluttering lightly, “May I speak now?”
You nod, not trusting your voice anymore.
“I was around her because she needed help completing her iknimaya, many of the other karyus have tried and she has failed many times.”
“Her iknimaya?”
“Yes, her other karyus were too rough, they did not attune to her learning style.” One of his hands begin to travel up and down your side, “I was involving her with our friends so she could have other people to lean on.”
Your eyes stray to the side, embarrassment creeping up your spine. But Neteyam keeps staring at you, “She needed help with archery for her dream hunt. And I needed help with weaving. I wanted to make something beautiful, that would last, that could withstand harsh weather, and harsher movements by the wearer.”
The hand moving up your side travels up, ghosting over the side of your breast, and lightly settles on the side of your neck.
“It was a mutual exchange of skill.”
Your embarrassment at misunderstanding makes you snap at him, “Yes, I understand that Neteyam.”
Your voice comes again, lighter and nicer this time, “You do not desire her, even slightly?”
“Not even slightly. What else would make you think that?”
“She is soft.”
Neteyam mulls over your words. Ka’vina is soft, her body is soft, her words are soft, her weaves are soft, the way she aims her bow is soft, so he agrees, “Yes, she is soft. But I do not want soft.”
“Why?”
“Because no one knows me like you. No one can anticipate my movements like you. They cannot hit flying targets as well, and they do not like to sharpen their arrows so they pierce their kills more efficiently. I have wanted it to be you since we were children, since my parents explained the concept of a mate to me.”
“That is stupid. You were too young to understand then.”
Instead of being upset at your misplaced anger, Neteyam just smiles. Then his lips curl into a smirk, “May I kiss you?”
“May you… what?”
“Kiss you.”
Instead of answering you lean forward and press your lips to his. You’re motionless, and it’s awkward. But then Neteyam begins moving his lips, opening them slightly and tilting his head to deepen it.
Before you know it your hands are pressing against his face, trying to memorize the feel of him after months of not being close. You finally pull away when you start to feel light headed. Your eyes are hazy darting across all of his features as you greedily suck in air.
You lean back in. This time Neteyam licks into your mouth, he tastes like the smokiness of the meat that was served at the cookfire tonight. It’s something you believe you could get used to.
This is something you think you could get used to.
You’d do it anywhere. Here in the hot springs, back in your kelku, in Neteyams kelku, out in the forest, hell you’d even do it at the training grounds if Neteyam wanted.
Truthfully, you’re a bit mad at yourself. How long could you have been doing this for if you had just spoken to him? How much farther could you have gone? It did not matter now, and you clearly were not the best at thinking through scenarios.
When Neteyam leans back again you nearly whine. The fact that such a noise wanted to emerge from your throat shocks you. What was this man doing to you?
“Would you like to see what I was weaving?”
You’re lightly panting, allowing your tongue to lave over your swollen lips. “What?”
“What I was weaving with Ka’vina -”
“Do not mention Ka’vina when you just had your tongue in my mouth.”
Neteyam laughs, “I will not, but she did direct me in perfecting your courting gift,” His grip lets up a bit so that he can begin caressing you softly, “It is over with my tewng. If you will still have me.”
“Of course I will still have you, do not make jokes.” You stand, grabbing Neteyams hand, and suddenly you’re tugging one of the Sully’s around. “I am excited to see what you have made for me.”
“It will fit you well.” He kisses you one more time, acting as if he would not get the chance to after he bestows the gift upon you, “And then everyone will know you are mine.”
A realization dawns on you. The other night, Neteyam had not been mad at you for crafting a new loincloth and chest covering. He was mad at your comrades, your friends, for eyeing you in such a way, “You were jealous the other day?”
“Very much so. They were just looking at you, not seeing you.” Another peck, “I see you, that is why I deserve to court you.”
You laugh. It is a soft sound, one of the only soft things you can identify about yourself. And you don’t allow the hard parts of you to bring you down. Don’t allow them to make you insecure about how you would fit with Neteyam. He likes you as you are, and that is enough.
Forehead nuzzling to his, you repeat his words, “And I see you.” Unable to resist, you kiss him one last time before making a demand, “Now let me see my gift.”
Neteyam laughs ever amused at your personality, but he does not voice any opposition. He would continue to feed into you for as long as the two of you shall live if it meant he got to see your grin. Got to see your fangs peek out over your bottom lip, and your nose scrunch up in delight.
Notes: Gender neutral reader, polyamerus couple, mentions of death, implied torture, implied racism, kidnapping, everyone's evil in this couple dude, but short, not proofread!
Pain is a thing that has followed you your whole life. You were in pain when the waves swallowed your brother whole. You were in pain when your spirit sister died by the hand of those demons! But now you revel in it. The screams and pleas are like songs to you now, just like the songs you once sang with your mother and father. This forest woman was your singer, her screams hitting higher, and you her composer, humming to her sweet sounds of pain devouring them as you held onto a part of her kuru, your hips swinging to the imaginary beat.
Varang loved this side of you, she couldn't help but give you a hungry yet prideful glance as she caused Neytiri more pain. She was strong this forest woman, even if she screamed her pretty little lungs out, but she–Varang–was stronger. The tsahik couldn't help but hum along with you. (Much to Quaritch's confusion,) it was a beautiful harmony. it reminded her of the days where she had barely cracked your heart open, she had not even cut through that eywa loving mind of yours. But she did. Eventually. Rebirthing you into a child of fire. Making you her's.
Your harmony with Varang was strong. Stronger than a tulkuns mighty heart! But something that is strong can easily break.
A cry shot to your ears, making them flick in annoyance. You narrowed your eyes, looking downward to the fabric strapped around the forest woman's chest. You cocked your head in confusion and interest, your hands leaving her Kuru and reaching for the carrier. It was obviously met with push back. "Do not touch!" Neytiri screeched attempting to claw at you. Quaritch quickly sprang into action pulling Tuk away from one of the Mangkwan warriors, and putting a gun to the child's head. "Hey!" He called, drawing Neytiri's attention. "You touch her and I shoot." He threatened before looking to Varang, giving her a look that made her laugh. "This is what you deserve, wife of a traitor." She mocked the woman on the floor before her.
"Wait!" You shouted, holding your hand up, leading to a standstill, before crouching down to the woman's level and once again reaching for the fabric, as if you were stuck in time she said her previous words and gave you a much louder hiss and you returned the favour with a much more malicious hiss. "Do not fight." You warned, giving her a light slap on her face, which did not make her any happier. Reaching down to your loincloth, you pulled out your knife slicing through the straps and pulling the fabric into your chest, unwrapping it like it was a present. "You have a child of a reef...!?" You whispered in shock, peering down at the small child, their big eyes looking up at you. "Why do you have a child of the reef, forest woman!?" You interrogated, a scowl clear on your face. "I will tell you nothing!" She hissed. You clicked your tongue in disappointment, standing up and walking behind Neytiri. you took the baby out of the fabric, dropping it to the floor, nuzzling the baby against your chest.
"No matter," You said, eyes dancing to Varang, staring deep into her curious eyes, then jumping to Quaritch, looking into his curious ones. "I will take the child as my own." Neytiri let out cry, quickly whipping her head around to face you. "NO! HER MOTHER AS SHE LAY DYING, GAVE HER TO ME TO PROTECT HER!" You smiled at how much she told you in her little fit of rage. "She was most definitely not thinking clearly." You mused, turning on your heel and standing next to Quaritch. "Continue." You urged, disliking the awkward atmosphere from your partner's. Varang quickly took to action, even if she did take orders from no one she did listen to you, her little voice of reason. Sighing you turned around and looked down at the Ocean below.
"Nice little trick you pulled there." Quaritch murmured in your ear, even if you couldn't see his face you knew her had a smirk on that devilish face of his. "Thank you, baby." You acknowledged, using the human word that he calls Varang. He chuckled before huffing. "But we need to talk about that little stunt you pulled. Are you serious about that?" He asked, gesturing to the child in your arms. Turning to face him, you clicked your tongue. "I am." You said, challenging him to go against you. He sighed shaking his head. "All three of us will talk sit down and talk about it, when this battle is won." You hummed before nodding.
Summary: Neteyam is rarely a selfish person but with the war going on, the more he wants to be. He uses you to court your sister, though in the process of doing that he falls inlove with you instead.
Authors notes: so lowkey this is an avatar rewrite disguised as a fic.. but anyways I hope you guys (neteyam nation) enjoy this once I publish it!!
🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*
You were never the athletic type despite in a family of established athletes and hunters. All your sisters had either been hunters or warriors, yet you were the only healer out of all of them. You felt embarrassed when you couldn’t shoot as cleanly as k’na, you felt ashamed that you couldn’t catch at least one fish in a hunting session with leyra, and especially pissed when your dear little sister eone thought it was funny to make fun of your running stance with her friends.
Your mother though, instead of belittling your healer status she had been proud of it.
“___ you are blessed to have a healers hands, my child.”
She smiled, braiding your hair tighter.
“really?”
You hesitated. Your mother turns you to look at her straight in the eyes.
“a healers job is just as important as a warriors.”
She caressed your face, grounding you from your worries.
It gave you a gentle push to embrace the fact that you stood out to your family, that even if you were different it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*
“You may go. Just be careful when you carry heavy things, it may tear.”
You politely say, tightening his bandage.
“irayo ___..” the warrior winced, slightly bowing down. You nod to the other warrior signaling that it is his turn to be healed. He quietly limps towards you, his eyes teary. Your eyes widened to see the long deep cut that has been left after the raid.
Ever since the rda left their damage in pandora, it seems as though some clans think it’s alright to doubt eywa. They say that toruk makto is a fraud. That the RDA helped him. You know that they are only scarred by the sky peoples actions. Not to mention the rda has messed with the environment. You see the scientists try their best to fix it back like it was, but their efforts need more people.
You sense kiri coming up to you in a silent manner, trying her best not to distract you. After you stopped the bleeding, you hold one of the oils and disinfect the wound. Seeing the warrior flinch in pain, aches your heart. Your people have suffered so much, you feel crushed that you couldn’t be out in the battlefield. Stuck helping and praying that they come home safely, your families tired and distressed faces.
“I hope this war could end sooner.”
You hear Kiri mumble dejectedly, her ears going down. You finish up the warriors treatment, give him some advice on how to heal quicker, and tell him to leave.
“That’s the only thing we can do,”
you take the paste out of kiris hands and put it back into the basket.
“Which is why we try our best even when they are in battle.”
You finally sit down next to her. Kiri has a longing look on her eyes.
“I want to feel safe, my family to feel safe.”
You can see the tears welling up in her eyes. A feeling that you understand, and have felt. You pull Kiri into a tight embrace. “It’s okay, it will end soon.” You pat her head, calming her down.
“What is going on?”
Neteyam frantically crouches to your level. Kiri pulls away, sighing. “I’m just tired of war.” She wipes her eyes. Neteyam looks down, guilty knowing that he cannot do anything about it despite being the eldest of his siblings. “We do it to protect ourselves,” He gets up from his position.
“It’s time to eat, come on.”
He gently lifts the tent. Looking at your unsure face, he tilts his head. “It’s not community dinner tonight.” He grins, suddenly fired up from what you said. “I told your parents that you are eating at my place.” Your stomach drops. You have eaten at the sully’s, though for some reason when neteyam invites you it feels intimidating. “Uhm..alright.” Kiri raises her brow at your hesitation. You three step out of the tent, one feeling ecstatic, one feeling suspicious of her friend, one feeling a mix petrified and heat from her face.
🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*
Neytiri passes you a plate of fruit and meat skewers.
“Eat ___ , we need our healers to be healthy.” She’s been insisting that you eat more, and with all that you decide to accept it. Truthfully the reason why you haven’t eaten that much is due to neteyams heavy gaze on you. Even his siblings are starting to find odd.
“After all you’ve healed more than ten of them haven’t you?” Jake chimed in. “Yes olo’eyktan.” You muttered, trying not to sound arrogant. Jake shakes his head, “Told ya to call me Jake didn’t I?” He mentioned.
You nod bashfully, Jake shrugs it off continuing to eat.
You’re close with the sully’s, yet even through those years of tight knit friendships you still felt that it was too disrespectful to call the oloeyktan ‘Jake’.
“Why is he acting like that?” Kiri whispers, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Hm?” You continue stuffing food into your mouth, anything to distract you from the awkward tension that neteyams eyes were giving you. Kiri decides not to pry you any further, announcing that she’s finished with eating.
🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*
You express your gratitude by trying to help lo’ak and tuk clean up, though not possible since neytiri orders them to do it themselves.
“I’ll take you home.” Neteyam said taking your wrist. Your face heats up from the contact, heart pounding in your ears.
He stops in the middle of the path, the air tenses.
He starts to talk,
“I’ve had feelings for leyra for a while.”
Oh.
“How long?” You laughed out of instinct, playing with your beaded bottom.
“About three months.” He admitted, his cheeks adorning a beautiful purple hue.
Wow, so he really is in love with her.
“Listen, I know that there’s a war and all that. But..I just want to try and court her.” His head hung low. Seeing neteyam like this was unimaginable. He was being so vulnerable to you.
“Wh..what’s that gotta do with me.” You said disappointed, a lump feels like it’s in your throat. He grabs both of your hands, tightening his grip on them.
“Your one of my closest friends ___ , I was hoping you’d give me advice-”
…
Neteyam saw you as one of his closest friends, you were actually. You feel as though you two have lost the past spark you had when you were both children. Neteyam saw different.
You stand there for what felt like a thousand years. Your ears blocking out the sound of his voice. It’s just feels so..depressing. Of course he’d ask you about your sister.
The thought of neteyam not liking you hadn’t been that heavy.
“___ , you don’t have to agree.”
He senses your uncomfortable nature. He steps back, not wanting to upset you further. He wants to know more about your sister, but if the cost is your friendship he would rather be rejected outright.
You take a deep breath, calming your mind.
“I’ll do it.” You assure him by putting a hand on his shoulder. It’s a hard thing to do but at the end of the day, neteyam was perfect for leyra. Both hunters, both playful yet calm, both a mirror to each other. You can feel neteyams strong shoulders relax, his ears perk up, and at the corner of his mouth a slight twitch.
“Irayo, ___.” He suddenly puts his hands around you, pulling you into a bone crushing hug, like literally. Standing stunned from his display of affection, you hesitatingly pat him on the back. You pull away, embarrassingly missing the warmth he gave you.
“Good luck on courting neteyam.” You give him one last pat on the head, effectively giving him your permission.
“Sweet dreams ___.”
He whispered softly into your ear, before turning his back and going back to his home.
𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 ᝰ Pril is an adorable, but very hungry baby. When you take a moment to make yourself some breakfast and hand your daughter over to her father, she decides to solve her hunger herself. Unfortunately for Tonowari, she mistakes his chest for yours and assumes she'll gain milk if she latches onto him.
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆… Tonowari te Tsika'u Arvak'itan
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓… SFW ᝰ Avatar: Fire and Ash based, non-canon, featuring baby Pril, fem!Metkayina!reader, Tsahìk!reader, dad!Tonowari x mom!reader, reader takes place of Ronal, established relationship [mates/marriage] pure fluff, humor, domestic, mention and act of breastfeeding; na'vi language w/ translations
𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍… 2.7k words
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑… This was a very fun and cute fic to write!! This is the first Tonowari fic I've written in a long time that wasn't attached to FSB. I enjoyed writing Baby Pril too because she's such a cutie patootie🥰!!! As always, I hope y’all enjoy and always feel free to comment and reblog, I can’t wait to read y’all reactions!
𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒… Main M.list ・Avatar Taglist
Morning in Awa’atlu begins softly. Sunlight spilling over the island as the chatter of waking Metkayina spread throughout the village, some getting ready for the day as others already begin their daily routines that align with their clan roles.
Inside your family’s marui, however, the calm of the morning is already over, due to having a infant in your home. Your daughter, Pril, squirms in your arms with determination, little feet kicking against your hip, trying her best to communicate to you what she wants. “Ma…ma…ma…”
“Yes, yes,” you murmur with a small laugh, gently swatting away her hands as she attempts to pull at your feathered top, not wanting her to pop the strings or pull any of the decorations like she did on your top from a few days ago. “You are hungry again. I know.”
Pril has been nursing almost constantly lately, always hungry and begging for the golden liquid that flows from your swollen breasts. She is growing fast for a child her age. It is clear that Pril is a strong baby, something you’ve known since you carried her in your womb. What you didn’t know while you were pregnant is that she would grow to have the appetite of a tsurak [skimwing].
When you’re about to cradle her so she can be fed for the second time this morning, your stomach rumbles in quiet protest, reminding you that you haven’t eaten yet yourself. Having a baby, along with your other many responsibilities, the main one being Tsahìk [clan's spiritual leader], it is easy to forget these things, but thankfully your body is willing to keep you in check.
“Tonowari,” you call gently, glancing toward your mate, needing to gain his attention.
The Olo’eyktan looks up from where he’s seated, repairing his spear shaft that got damaged during a sparring session with some of the hunters, one of the his ways of keeping his combat skills sharp. “Yes, psakalin [honey]?” Tonowari replies while putting down his spear, eyes softening immediately when he sees Pril wiggling in your grasp.
You carefully walk over and place your daughter into his large waiting hands, needing your hands free for a few moments. “Hold her while I prepare something to eat,” you say, feeling your stomach growl again, begging for any source of nutrients. “If I do not keep my strength, she will soon complain that there is none left for her.”
When breastfeeding, mothers must eat plenty of food so they can maintain energy and milk supply. Therefore, you must eat so she can continue to happily suckle milk from your breasts until her little tummy is full and satisfied, so she can grow big and strong like her older siblings.
Tonowari nods immediately, taking Pril with ease and adjusting her position, wanting her to be comfortable as he holds her against his chest so she can feel his warmth.
Your daughter blinks up at him with wide, curious eyes, looking at her father as if he’s her whole world which makes Tonowari smile. Soon, Pril's attention shifts. Her tiny hand reaches up, trying to grab her father’s akula teeth necklace. Her hands are far too small to grab it fully, but her little nails do dig into Tonowari’s skin as she tries her best to grasp it, making him lightly wince.
“You have a strong grip,” he murmurs with quiet pride, furthering the notion he's built in his mind that once Pril is older she’ll be a great warrior just like her mother. Pril gurgles happily, moving her little fists in the air, as if she’s agreeing with her father’s statement.
While they are having some father daughter time, you move with ease around the small cooking space, slicing fruit and pulling warm fish from the cooking pot, feeling your mouth water from the delicious aroma. You toss a cubed piece of fruit into your mouth, already starting to eat as you wait for the fish to cool off just a tad.
Behind you, Tonowari continues his quiet conversation with your youngest daughter, keeping her entertained as you tend to your hunger. “Your mother says you are always hungry,” he tells her, thinking about how just last night you were telling him that she inherited his large appetite. “I suspect she exaggerates.” He says jokingly, knowing that you are telling the truth about her eating habits. He has witnessed her hunger first hand and he can agree that her little stomach is somehow never satisfied.
Pril squirms closer against him, pressing her nose into the firm muscle of his chest, making your husband assume she wants to be cuddled so he begins to gently bounce her, thinking it’ll help her settle down. “Maybe you will grow into a great weaver,” he muses, stroking her hair, wondering what position she will feel led to once she grows old enough to make the decision. “Or a strong diver like your tsmukan [brother].”
Your daughter’s ears twitch, as if her attention has yet again been drawn elsewhere. Her tiny nose presses more firmly against Tonowari’s chest, her face nuzzling instinctively into his warm skin. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoes beneath her cheek, the one thing that usually calms her little spirit when she’s riled up. But today it isn't working.
Pril’s stomach gives a small, impatient growl, making her brow lines furrow. Her hunger has become sharper than earlier. It is no longer a gentle feeling but an urgent pull that will no longer go unsatisfied.
Her mouth opens slightly, her tongue pressing forward as instinct takes over. Your daughter’s small hands press clumsily against Tonowari’s chest as she shifts, searching for the source of the nutrient rich fluid she gets from you. Her lips brush his skin, crawling toward what she assumes to be your breast, and she latches.
When Tonowari feels his daughter attach to him, he stills instantly, breath catching as he looks down at her in confusion. He does not move at first, clearly trying to understand what she is doing. His hand hovers awkwardly near her back, unsure whether to adjust her or leave her be. “…What are you—” He doesn’t even finish his sentence because Pril pulls back slightly, making Tonowari not feel the need to continue.
Pril’s tail begins to lash and her small face scrunches in growing frustration since she wasn't able to find any milk. She doesn’t understand because when she’s with you this always works. She nudges forward again, more insistent this time, pressing harder against her father, latching onto him for a second time.
She tries again, but she still comes up short, making her tiny fingers tighten against his skin, showing how she’s growing impatient. Pril thinks if she works harder, milk will come, so while she’s still latched to her father, she bites down. And it’s not a soft bite either.
When it happens, Tonowari jerks sharply, his confusion of his daughter actions turns into pure shock as pain spikes through his chest, making a strangled sound tear from his throat. “AUGH!” He nearly loses his hold on her, but his arm tightens at the last second purely on instinct, thankfully keeping Pril from falling to the ground.
His free hand flies to his chest, eyes wide in disbelief as he looks down at the small culprit latched onto him with strong determination, clearly not willing to let up until she finds what she’s looking for. “Daughter, release!” he chokes, trying to gently pull her away without hurting her, but the attempt only seems to encourage her stubborn grip. Tonowari did say that Pril has a strong grip, now she’s showing it.
The commotion echoes through your kelku [home], making you nearly drop the plate full of food in your hands at the sudden shout from your husband. You quickly place it down and swallow the food you were chewing before running over, wondering what has transpired that calls for this loud of a reaction. “Tonowari, what has happened?!”
“She has bitten me!”
You blink, not understanding him at first. “…What?” Pril has never been a aggressive baby, so you don’t know why she would bite her father.
“Our child just bit me!” he repeats, gesturing to his chest, bringing your attention to his clearly reddened and abrasive nipple that he was finally able to get his daughter to detached from.
When you look at your husband’s wounded area, and then you look down at your daughter and how agitated she’s becoming, that is when you connect the dots. Your daughter had mistaken Tonowari’s warm skin and muscular pecs for your own breasts, thinking if she latched on she would be able to find a source of nourishment, but clearly she was wrong.
For a moment you try very hard not to laugh, but the sight of Tonowari, a great warrior and fearless leader, currently defeated by your daughter who is only the size of his hand, is simply too adorable.
The laughter escapes before you can try to stop it, which makes Tonowari frown immediately, not finding this situation funny. “You find this amusing.” He grumbles, rubbing his chest, trying to stop the pain.
“I am sorry,” you say between laughs, crouching down next to your husband. You place a supportive hand on his shoulder, calming down your laughter before giving him a comforting look. “I truly am.”
“She attacked me without warning.” He says, his forehead lines creasing, similarly to when he’s disciplining your oldest child, Ao’nung.
“When you hold her like that,” you point out, gesturing to his broad chest and how he’s cradling her so close to his skin. “What did you expect?”
Tonowari opens his mouth to argue, but he just closes it again, thinking you could possibly have a point. This never happened with your other two children. He held Tsireya and Ao’nung in the same manner when they were Pril’s age and they never tried to bite him, so he doesn’t know what got into his daughter for her to act this way.
You move a few steps over to your medicine basket, a thin smile spreading across your lips as you reach for a small jar of healing salve. “Well,” you say lightly, applying the cool mixture to Tonowari’s skin, seeing the small indentations Pril caused to his nipple when she latched firmly onto him. “I suppose I cannot blame her.”
Tonowari eyes you suspiciously, wondering what you mean because it is clear your daughter is at fault. “Why not?”
You tilt your head, examining his body in a loving manner instead of how you would do a usual injured patient. You can't help it when your handsome husband has his chest puffed out in front you, looking very attractive when he’s being all domestic and fatherly with your youngest daughter.
“You do have a very… impressive chest.” When you say that, your mate’s ears flicker at the compliment, making him wonder where you are going with this. “Broad shoulders,” you continue casually, flickering your eyes at him before looking back down at the affected area. “Strong muscles.”
Tonowari huffs under his breath, enjoying your praises at his physique, but he cannot properly receive the compliments when he’s in pain. “Flattery will not undo the injury.”
“I am not flattering you,” you say sweetly, continuing to rub the herbs on his wound, wanting to help wipe that grumpy expression off his face and make him smile. “I am explaining our child’s confusion.”
He gives you a long look, his eyes squinting just a tad, before his lips turn into a thin line, as if he’s trying not to smile or show any sort of amusement, but he cant help it when you look at him the way you are. “You are enjoying this far too much.”
“Maybe a little.” You admit, not being able to deny how funny yet cute this situation truly is. Once the salve is applied thoroughly, you lean back, placing the lid back on the jar. “There,” you say, putting the salve back into its original place. “It will stop stinging soon.”
Tonowari rolls his shoulders experimentally, testing to see if the herbs have begun working yet. “…It is feeling better.” He says softly, thanking Eywa that soon his pectoral muscle will no longer be in pain because he has many duties ahead of him today.
He’s always had empathy for women, he knows their bodies go through a lot when it comes to bearing children, but feeling this pain and knowing this is something you and other women in the clan go through each time they have a child, Tonowari has gained even more respect for na’vi women.
“I am glad.” You reply before gently lifting your daughter from his arms before she attempts another attack on Tonowari, not wanting her to try to bite at her father’s good side, the only side he has that is uninjured.
Her tiny face scrunches immediately in protest, not enjoying that she’s being ripped away from her father’s warm embrace. And she’s still upset at the fact she hasn’t been given any food yet.
“Mawey [calm], little one.” you murmur, settling down comfortably next to your husband. You adjust your top, moving the decorative feathers out of her way before bringing her in close, angling her in the perfect position to breastfeed. “I will feed you properly so you do not have to bite sempu [daddy] again.”
When baby Pril smells the colostrum in your milk, her nose guides her to your breast. Once she finds your nipple, she latches immediately, happy to finally be feed after not having any success with her father. As her tummy fills with milk, content little noises fill the room and her tail happily sways as her little appetite finally gets what it has been dying for.
Tonowari leans in towards you, wrapping his arm around your waist, watching the two of you with quiet amusement now that the shock of the incident has passed, though he’s still surprised about what happened. “For someone so small, she is very dangerous.”
You smirk up at him, knowing exactly where she gets that trait from. “She takes after her father.”
Tonowari snorts, not accepting that comparison, in his mind, he has done nothing along the lines of danger. “I have never bitten anyone.”
“Are you sure?” you tease, remembering an event that would say otherwise. “You were quite fierce when we first met.” You give him a “look”, one that helps jog his memory to the early years of your relationship, when you both were just two teenagers in love.
His eyes warm at the thought, remembering the times where he chased you around the island until you gave him a chance and when you did, his fierceness only became refocused… mostly in how he expressed his affections. “Perhaps… you are correct.”
Tonowari reaches over you, brushing a gentle finger along your daughter’s tiny tail as she drinks from your breast, acting as if she hasn’t eaten all morning, making him shake his head with a quiet laugh. “I battle many things,” he says, thinking of the storms, disputes, and the endless responsibilities of leading the clan, challenges he always faces head-on. Yet his gaze softens as he looks down at the small life in your arms. “Yet my daughter defeats me before breakfast.”
You grin, knowing how much enjoys being a father, and how he would not want his life to be any differently. “That is fatherhood, Olo’eyktan.” You say before leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling his hand rub the small of your back as the two of you watch your daughter drink contentedly.
For a while, neither of you says anything, allowing yourselves to just enjoy this moment of peace. You and Tonowari bask in the warmth of parenthood, listening to the ocean waves lap against your dwelling and your daughter’s soft nursing sounds filling your home.
Tonowari presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, thankful that he’s able to call you the mother of his children, that Eywa blessed you and him to create three wonderful souls together that show the love and strength within your union.
Although Pril already shows signs of being a little troublemaker, you and your mate cannot wait to see the young woman she will grow into. However… for the time being, it might be wise to keep her away from her father’s chest whenever she’s hungry so the little adorable baby you birthed, doesn’t turn into a little milk thirsty monster.
aonung te tsika'u tonowari'itan x gn! sully! reader
Summary: Gaining his first tattoo, Aonung seeks you out.
WC: 0.9k
Warning/s: none, maybe aonung being romantic?? lmao, maybe a little ooc mb...
Note: i crave more aonung screen time and seeing him with that tattoo oh it was over for me- likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are most welcome and appreciated!
GIF is made by yours truly!
The communal area was filled with bright colors and the dancing of the flames, the sound of the drums beating mirroring your nervous heartbeat.
The festival for the young Metkayina, after passing through the challenging tests from the clan that challenged them with their tulkun and their own strength, before eventually being able to bond with their spirit sibling for the first time.
You watched silently, eyes taking it all in, no matter how long you’ve been here with your family, seeing these things for the first time was special.
And it was also extra special because of a certain boy.
The horns sounded once more and you snap your head up from the fishes swimming on the edge to see them file out one by one, the cheers growing louder from parents and clan-mates alike, seeing their youth with renewed pride and joy from their success in their iknimaya.
Your yellow gaze flickers from face to face, which every one of them wore smiles and laughter and gratitude.
Until you spotted that familiar grin, from which for the first time you laid eyes on him you wanted nothing but to wipe it off his stupid face. Now it was the opposite.
There was Aonung, all in his boyish demeanor, energetic, too much confidence and yet a level of honor. You saw how he looked around- not spotting you yet, and how he jokingly flexes to his friends much to the amusement of his parents and sister, showing off his new facial tattoo and the leather vest he now adorned. Now a warrior making his own path.
Something in your heart lurches seeing him be in his own element, his people, and how grown he now looked to be when it was not long ago, he was picking fights with your own siblings the first few weeks you got here.
And yet… something warm settles over you. You were proud, letting a warm smile slip from your lips even if he doesn’t see you through the crowd yet.
You let him have his moment and eventually the crowd gets a little too much for you, taking a small breath, you let your last gaze linger on Aonung for a little while longer before you turned on your heel, walking off on the bridge out the area, settling for the quiet crash of the waves against the nearby shore.
You sat yourself down on the sand, tail curling around your leg as you stared out, the noise of the festival muffled from where you were.
The waves were calming, almost lulling you to sleep, ears drooping as your eyelids start to feel heavy.
“Think you could leave without congratulating me?”
Your senses jumped, tail lashing in surprise with your ears going up at the sound of a voice, eyes blinking and turning to find him standing there not too far from where you were, same smug expression but a hint of something deeper within his gaze.
Aonung’s tone was playful, but also somewhat genuine, his eyes squinting slightly watching you. Unbeknownst to you, he did catch you leaving.
“No…” you trailed off, shaking your head to wake yourself a little more but his presence did exactly that already.
He shrugs his shoulders before he saunters over, planting himself beside you as your eyes glued to his every move, now seeing his tattoo and his new garment up close, you were hit with that feeling again.
Your fingers reach out without thought, tracing the garment now strapped to his chest, tracing over the weaving and the fish scales adorning it.
Aonung tenses for a moment but he lets you, teal gaze locked down to your five-fingered hand before slowly turning his head to look at you instead, so focused and admiring every detail.
All his boyish demeanor was gone, replaced by something quieter, observing…
When you finish inspecting his garment, your eyes and your fingers slowly drag up to meet his face, Aonung doesn’t flinch.
He keeps his gaze on you, and you lock eyes with him, heart skipping a beat before your eyes take in the new mark on his temple instead, fingers reaching up now, it makes him breathe out a little, like he was holding his breath for that moment.
Light as a wood sprite, the pads of your fingers seem to trace the new tattoo with the same admiration.
Knowing Aonung, he can’t bear silence… or maybe because he wasn’t used to this kind of silence.
Clearing his throat, he turns his face afront so you could look at the tattoo better, though leaning into your touch just by a fraction, tail thumps soft against the sand.
“First of many I’ll get.” He spoke, not with his usual arrogance, no, he sounded hopeful, a dream of his he doesn’t usually voice but lets his actions do the talking, and this makes him feel… exposed.
But the smile that appears on your face after he says that washes away ounce of uncertainty in him. You understood.
“You will make a very fine warrior.” You finally speak and it feels like a reward, your fingers trace the arch again before it lingers there, eyes looking back into his as he turned to face you, teal eyes scanning your face and your yellow eyes, an understanding passing between the two of you.
His four-fingered hand moved to cup your wrist that were still by his face, much bigger than yours, before it decides to slowly trace up to hold your fingers instead, pulling them down to press your hand to his chest, a simple act that meant so much more now to the two of you at this moment.
“Your fine warrior, one day.” He murmured, that all too familiar smirk curling on the edge of his lips, eyes holding all the promise he couldn’t put to words.
Synopsis - You are faced with the man who abandoned you. Different body, same soul. How do you confront the feelings he left behind?
Warnings - Abandonment issues, mommy and daddy issues, allusions to past abuse, angsty , complicated feelings and relationship
You were in the crowd, buried amongst the sea of people, your masked face blending in with the mob of humans.
Looking at the glass cage where a man sat, head hung low, hair covering his face.
You didn't need to see him to know who he was, everybody knew who he was.
The man who betrayed mankind for some local tail on a moon so far away from home, so far from you.
The day he left for good was the day your mother lost a part of herself. The day the news spread of his betrayal left your heartbroken mother to turn to alcohol , drinking her sorrows away, one bottle after another.
Until one day when she just left, leaving you with nothing but a note with empty excuses and half hearted apologies.
You reminded her too much of him, too much of the man that stole her youth, her heart and her sanity.
You were left to grow up on Earth's overpopulated world and its overcrowded foster system. When you outgrew it, you were tossed out like a bad stack of produce.
Rotten and too old to want.
You scraped by for whatever you could do to survive. The scars on your body a reminder of things you had to do to survive a world that was already crumbling.
A world that had no place for you to squeeze into.
You were only three when you last saw him, memory of him now vague but his absence haunted you. You remembered the day he said goodbye with the promise of seeing you again.
He interlocked his pinky with yours, promising to tell you all the crazy stories he'd have to tell. You kissed his scruffy cheek and even gave him one of your favourite stuffed toys for him to remember you by.
You remember waving him goodbye from the streets as the car took him, giddy for the stories you would hear.
That was sixteen years ago.
Yet no one came back for you.
You were always sidelined, adults glancing at you with worried eyes and disgust, many openly speaking poorly of you. Children pulled away by their parents who scolded them for even approaching you.
Nobody wanted anything to do with you. It was the punishment for having the blood of a filthy traitor.
A burden you'll have to bare. The karma a daughter has to carry in her father's place.
But yet looking at him now, looking so defeated, so alone. A feeling stirred inside of you.
You knew what his fate was. It was obvious to everyone who eagerly filmed him. The way they treated him like a zoo animal. Treated him like he was less then.
The crowds of people kept pushing and shoving, trying to get a good shot of him. Their devices lifted higher, blocking your view of him now.
You should've left, should've turn your back and walk away. You didn't know him and he didn't know you.
Yet after seeing his defeated form, his sagging head. You thought about it, thought about the fact he could've had a family, could've had children. Children who would suffer the same path you did.
They'd have to learn their dad died. Leaving them alone with their mother who'd grieve the loss of her husband. Just like yours did.
Suffer the same trauma, the same pain , the same yearning to know a man they probably barely knew.
Worst of all you didn't want him to die, the thought of him being gone for good sent a wave of nausea through your stomach. Bile threatening to crawl up your throat.
You look back at the bustling crowd and the clear glass cage one more time.
In that moment you made up your mind and left.
Jake had gotten freed from the glass cage, now maneuvering through the metal structures and piles of metal and plastic.
Spider gripped onto Jake's tail like a life line, trying to keep up with Jake as he tried to lose the helicopter following them.
Jake and Spider were getting cornered, the helicopter hot on their tail. The helicopter's light following their every move and turn.
They met a dead end that felt like the end. The helicopter broadcasted their location, the soldiers that were looking for them would get them.
They were going to take him and kill him, they were going to take Spider and experiment on him. For the first time in a long time Jake felt no hope.
This was it.
Suddenly gunshots fired at the helicopter breaking the glass and killing the pilot inside, causing the helicopter to lose control and crash into the ground.
It bursts into flames, the embers growing larger and bigger, spreading out. Creating a large fire wall cutting off a pathway to them.
Jake and Spider stared in disbelief, unable to process the destructive chaos that just happened in front of them.
Looking at each other, assuming the other did it. Both raised their hands to prove their own innocence.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a girl. No older than twenty, a gun in her trembling hands.
Her face was a familiar sight. A face that haunted his dreams once in a while. The human daughter he left behind years ago.
Even in this dimly lit space with only the fire to provide substantial light. Even when you had grown up and changed he could still recognise you.
He slowly came up to where you stood, his height over towering you. Spider following behind from a distance. Unsure of what to do, looking around cautiously.
You dropped the gun you were holding, the loud metal thud ringing throughout the hollow metal structures. Echoing it back to you. Your hands trembling.
Your eyes focused on the dancing flames, flickering sparks reflecting in your eyes. The fire warming your face with an orange glow.
You didn't notice him approaching until he got too close.
A shadow loomed over you. You looked to see him, standing in front of you. His height was intimidating.
Your eyes widened as you quickly turned around, arms going to wrap around yourself, a silent comfort.
You didn't know what to do or what to say anything. You never thought you'd ever see him again. You thought he'd just leave.
"You should leave now." Your voice trembled, words tumbling out as your body shook with every beat of your heart.
"Y/n?" Your name from his mouth felt like a jab to the heart. Painful and it felt like you couldn't breathe.
"Just go and don't come back!" You yelled, your hands going up to your masked face. You squatted down to the ground, lips trembling as the tears in your eyes fell against your will.
He was here, the man who had abandoned you was here. But how could you face him. He left you behind like you didn't matter at all.
You held back choked sobs, hands covering your face.
Jake crouched down, getting on your level.
A hand came up on your shoulder, large and warm. Almost comforting.
You wanted to push his hand away. To yell at him with all the rage you've pent up but in this moment, you just didn't know what to do.
You both stayed in that position for a beat, only noise passing through was the machinery of the human base and your soft sniffles.
"Why did you do it?" You asked, voice breaking the silence. You hated feeling this way, so small, so child-like. Your back still faced to him, not ready to face him yet. Not ready to look at the new face he chose.
He stood quietly, unable to form words. He knew what you meant but there were no valid excuses to make.
"I-I just wanted to be be free." That was all Jake could mutter. It was selfish maybe but in that moment all those years ago, for the first time, he felt free.
He felt free from the RDA's shackles that held him down, free from the world that treated him like dirt beneath their shoes. He was accepted and seen past his flaws and ugly human nature.
But it all came at the cost of leaving you.
You turned around to look at him, your eyes glossed with tears, droplets still streaming down your eyes. Your nose sniffling to stop the snot from dripping.
You looked just like the kid he had all those years ago except now you were older, much bigger. Your face no longer holding that childhood chub, your features now more defined.
Gone was the tiny nose he'd pretend to eat to hear your bellied laughs, now there was only a girl he regretfully never got to know in her place.
"That's a really shitty excuse." Was all you said back. Now you were more upset. All these years apart and that was the best excuse he could give.
Jake sucked in a breath.
"I'm sorry, I really am." Jake's voice was soft, almost careful.
"I hope you can understand why I did it." There it was, his careless response that ruined the moment.
Your eyebrows furrowed and your teeth gritted. Your sadness now bubbling over into the resentment and anger you held in.
You stood up to face him, now both eye to eye. For the first time since you met him you looked directly into his eyes.
Angry, you felt so angry at his audacity. How can he ask you to understand why he abandoned you. You slammed your fisted hand on his chest once. Then again and again and again.
You repeatedly hit him in the chest as fast and as hard as you could , your breath getting heavy with how fast you were hitting him. Jake didn't flinch, it didn't hurt really.
He let you do it, he didn't fight back, he knew it's the least he deserved.
You stopped for a moment to catch your breath, Jake looking at you, his eyes shined with tears that did not fall.
Your chest fell up and down, your heart beating erratically. You looked into his eyes again. The tears came out again, it felt like a never ending flow.
"I just wanted a home. I just wanted my dad." You completely broke down, tears pooled at the bottom of your mask. Your breath ragged hicks now.
Your vision blurred, your body shaking from how hard you were sobbing.
Jake stared at you, eyes full of regret and remorse. He pulled you into a hug, his large arms providing the warmth you so desperately seeked for.
But now it felt too late.
"L-let go of me." Your cries didn't stop, voice cracking with every word as you hit his chest. Trying to push him off you but he wouldn't budge. Your arms wobbled and shook everytime you attempted to push him.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Jake knew his apologies couldn't erase the years that he was absent, the years of pain you went through.
But he still held you anyway,
In that moment of vulnerability you let him hold you, you stopped fighting and let him cradle you once more. His hand patting your back as you cried into his shoulder.
This moment reminded him of when you were barely three.
You scraped your knee, the pain stinging a little. You cried and cried because it hurt but your daddy wheeled over.
He hauled you into his lap and kissed your booboo. He patched it up with your favourite princess bandaid.
He comforted and rocked you. Your chubby cheek squishing against his shoulder as you fell into dreamland. Your soft snores infiltrating his ear like a sweet melody.
You were his first child, his first born. The kid that brought him light even in the darkness humanity buried him in.
Maybe you'd forgive him and he could make up for everything he missed and everything you lost.
Or you wouldn't and you two would pretend you never met again. Like you didn't come face to face to save him.
Maybe you'd go back to pretending he wasn't your father, that he was a vague memory that didn't haunt you.
Whatever the case, he'll accept it. He'll let you be able to make that decision for yourself for once.
He'll hold you until you don't want him to. He'll comfort you until you say stop. He'll be here until you don't want him to be anymore.
You lifted your head from his shoulder, facing him now. Your face was puffy and soaked from crying.
Jake brought his hand to your masked face, resting it on the warm glass. His large thumb caressing the glass.
"Would you ever forgive me?" He asked, his voice held some hope. The tears that tried so desperately not to fall from his eyes, fell, cascading down his face.
Whatever you choose, he'll understand. He'll accept it.
Author's note -
Was this an excuse to lwk write abt my own feelings towards with my father? Most definitely 🙈 did I make Jake feel how I wish my dad felt? Absolutely 😅
I've been writing so much angst😞 I swear I'll write some fluff guys 🙏🏻
Anyways I hope you guys enjoyed reading this! Likes and reblogs are super appreciated. 🩵
