summary: fluffery! reader is openly paired with neteyam in the clan, but not yet mated. when a group of hunters begin mocking reader (and even flirting with her…), specifically about neteyam’s restraint to bond, he overhears and grows angry.
oooo yeah possessive neteyam… I like it. first try at an avatar fic lmk what we think.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
the bond between you and neteyam has never been questioned, evident in the way you are never seen apart. even when you are, it still thrives in the small things; glances across the woven huts, the permanent bracelets engraved with shared initials. everyone in the clan knows you are paired, most not minding the fact that the mating ceremony has not yet been enacted. there is no rush between you two on this journey, a journey guided by eywa’s steady breath.
so, when the training rotations shift for a week, it feels insignificant. hunters are reassigned, paths diverge for a few days, and you’re placed in one group whilst neteyam leads elsewhere. you kiss his cheek before parting when he hugs you tight, promising to meet later, neither of you thinking twice about the situation.
“see you soon, sevin.”
“soon, ma’sayrìp.”
your friends giggle around you, his own mirroring the actions.
you trust him completely, and he trusts you impossibly more. it’s only a temporary separation, nothing more than duty, but it’s the first time in a while that you’re not glued to his side. neither of you realize how much that small distance is about to matter.
-
your new group is made up of familiar faces, young hunters like you with reputations that shine brighter than their smiles. ra’vir grins too wide when you step closer to the senior hunter to hear the instructions. his friend tsìkal, equally as dickish, elbows him lightly as they share a whispered joke. they offer to show you the path, even though you already know it.
“easy work today, a lucky group we have.” ra’vir says casually. you laugh softly, assuming he’s referring to the training. it doesn’t take long for the tone to switch. whispers trail behind you when you walk ahead, low and mocking. you’ve always been aware of the curiosity around the ‘delayed’ bonding of you and neteyam, but in your opinion it couldn’t come close to being a problem. interrupting your thoughts, xeytu’s voice carries enough to be heard,
“she’s still waiting, huh?” followed by quiet laughter. tsìkal glances past you, towards neteyam’s group in the far distance who are starting their trek, smirking.
“strange.” he adds. you don’t understand their jokes and don’t want to provoke them either, so again you just smile, adjusting your gear, unaware of the glances exchanged behind your back.
the comments grow bolder as the hours pass, and at times physically bold. xetyu reaches out without asking, fingers tracing the curve of your bow as he inspects it.
“light,” he says, tugging it before you pull away from him. “delicate, like you. has he taught you to use it properly?”
you tighten your grip, calm on the surface even as you feel unease rise in your heart. tsìkal snorts.
you maintain composure.
“we have taught each other. it is not so difficult, or did you need help learning, xeytu?”
the others laugh at your remark, eyes lingering too long on you instead of the targets infront. you step away, straighten your shoulders and move with a quiet confidence. you’ve trained too long to be shaken by a few loud mouths, especially those that come from hunters much less competent than you are.
ra’vir steps into your space again, this time deliberately brushing your shoulder to test how much you’ll yield. tsìkal laughs under his breath and nudges you lightly with his elbow, enough to throw you off your balance. you scoff and take a large step forward again, muttering a quiet ‘please, stop.’
“you’re patient. more than most would be.” ra’vir teases. “you know, I’d never leave you waiting like he does.”
“I’m not waiting for anything, ra’vir. I trust in our path, to question it is to question eywa.”
your jaw tightens, and your knuckles turn pale with the force you use to hold your arrows. xeytu reaches for your wrist as if to calm you, fingers lingering far longer than necessary.
“easy, taronyutsyìp.” (little hunter) he murmurs. “he’s just saying what we’re all thinking.”
something angry flashes through you. in irritation, you twist in one smooth motion, freeing the threaded cap of your knife as you turn to a still. as ra’vir skips to follow you, his hand catches on the edge of the blade. there’s a sharp groan as he jerks back, his other hand lifting to assess the bleeding. you smirk and tuck your knife back in your side.
“what are you thinking now? skxwang.”
tsìkal, aggresive in nature, snaps.
“who the fuck do you think you are-“
sa’niri moves fast, stepping between you and them with a sharp hiss. she’s older, a senior hunter who they wouldn’t dare to cross.
“enough,” she shouts. “have you forgotten where you are?”
ra’vir’s head drops to the ground, already backing away.
“we- we were just talking.”
her eyes flick to the cut on his hand.
“you don’t touch what isn’t yours, child.” xeytu scoffs at this, mumbling something under his breath. sa’niri notices.
“say it louder. let everyone hear.” she says. xeytu looks up, ears dropping in shame as he finds the dissapointed eyes of the other hunters around, judging.
silence.
“go. you are dismissed from here.” she commands, and they do, retreating back into the woods where they can no longer be watched.
“are you alright, tsmuke?” (sister) her voice now soft.
“I’m okay. thank you, sa’niri.” you hug her briefly, before being pestered by hunting friends about what the hell had just happened.
-
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
-
a few skips away, neteyam’s rotation ends much earlier than expected, his group dismissed while the sun is still high. he walks back toward the eating fire with his other hunting friends, the conversation light until lo’ak approaches.
“hey,” he says. “I heard what happened, she okay?”
neteyam keeps walking but there’s a halt in his step.
“why wouldn’t she be?”
lo’ak exhales, knowing how this could potentially go wrong.
“ra’vir, tsìkal, xeytu…? got sent back. sa’niri schooled them. they were messing with her… talking about you.”
now he stops. the muscles in neteyam’s jaw flex hard. his hand grips on lo’aks shoulder.
“is she hurt? where is she now?”
“she’s still training, bro. she’s fine.” he added quickly. “she handled it, ‘heard ra’vir caught a nice scar.”
neteyam turns without another word, furious knowing that you had to use your blade to defend yourself against these fucking pricks. lo’ak catches his arm.
“neteyam, they’re gone I said. she’s safe now.”
he snatches his arm back, eyes dark.
“that does not mean it is finished.”
he finds them near the edge of the swing tree, already miles ahead of lo’ak. the moment they see him, colour drains from their faces, tails wrapping around their own legs in fear of what’s to come.
neteyam is older, larger, marked with responsibility that they have not encountered yet. when he pushes ra’vir lightly with his finger, his back hits the tree. no one speaks.
“what did you think you were doing, exactly?”
ra’vir swallows. tsìkal shifts his weight between legs, xeytu hiding behind with eyes fixed on his feet.
neteyam steps closer.
“you touched her?” he’s controlled, even calm when he speaks, which somehow makes it worse.
“we didn’t mean-“ tsìkal starts.
“no.” neteyam shoves him without warning, hard enough that he slams into xeytu. the sound echoes and none of them dare to move.
“you do not mean anything with her,” he spits. “you do not look at her. you do not speak her name.”
xeytu’s voice breaks when he speaks.
“neteyam, we were joking. we are sorry.” neteyam drives his fist into the tree beside his head, splintering wood.
“you joked about what is mine. my mate.”
lo’ak has caught up now, pulling neteyam back.
“bro! stop this. now.”
neteyam is about to speak again when he feels jake’s presence. he steps in close, hand firm on neteyam’s shoulder.
“what is it, boy? you wanna tell me what the hell happened?”
neteyam looks up at him, his chest rising and falling with a harsh pace. he starts to ramble, “they put their dirty hands on her. she had to draw her blade. I couldn’t be there- training-“
“I got it.” jake’s eyes harden as he looks at the boys up and down, taking in their fear, their shame. he pulls neteyam back by the arm, firm but lenient as they walk off together.
the hunters are left standing there, shaken, humiliated, fully aware that everyone will know why they were dismissed, and which family they wrongfully crossed.
“you did the right thing, son. but you lead, starting now. we handle this different, the right way.”
neteyam nods once, the anger settling but not fading entirely.
-
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
-
dark blue has crept over the sky of pandora once your training is complete. you rush to hometree to find neteyam, but he isn’t there, and he isn’t at his family hammock either. so, you find him where you expect to next, far enough from kelutral that the sounds of the clan fade into leaves and glowing biodiversity. he’s sitting with his back against a slanted rock, its coarse surface blanketed with sparkling moss. his eyes are closed, and with your feather-light walk he does not sense your approach.
“hey,” you say softly.
he looks up immediately, relief flashing across his face. his shoulders drop instantly and he feels his anger drain into something softer.
“hey, ma’tsawke. come here.”
you barely had time to kneel before his hands were on you, his thumbs brushing your arms, shoulders, checking for anything out of place. he kissed your head and pulled you close to him.
“ngatxoa,” (im sorry) he hums.
“I hate that I wasn’t there, baby.” he speaks quietly, but the guilt is loud. the sound of his voice, coated with the velvet of his na’vi accent, resembles a purring when he talks to you… baby… the english term that he used frequently, caused a purple flush to appear on the tips of your ears and nose.
“I’m okay,” you say softly, letting him check all of the planes of your skin. “I promise.”
“I know,” he says, quick. “I know you can handle yourself.” his hand slides to your waist, effortlessly pulling you into his lap. “that doesn’t stop this from eating at me.”
he leans his forehead into yours, breathing you in.
“seeing you right now… I don’t want to let go.” his voice drops.
you smile faintly. “nete’, you’re squeezing me really hard.”
“yes,” he admits. “I need to.” his fingers trail up your back, drawing patterns into your soft skin. “I missed you today. too much.”
you tuck closer into his chest. “I missed you too.”
he presses a kiss into your hair, then your head, then your nose. then, he lets his forehead rest on yours again.
“they didn’t hurt you, sevin?”
you try to shake your head. “no. just made me uncomfortable.” his grip on you becomes the slightest bit tighter.
“what did they say to you?” he asks. you sigh in response.
“please, baby.” he says gently. “I want to know.”
you smile, nails tracing the curves in the braids that fell in-front of his face.
“they called me taronyutsyìp,” you huff softly. “as if I didn’t earn my place there.”
he doesn’t interrupt.
“and they kept touching my things,” you continue. “my bow. my hand.” you glance up at him. “I didn’t like it.”
silence settles between you, tense but controlled. his hands curl slowly, then relax again, like he’s forcing himself to stay calm.
your hands rest on his shoulders.
“ma’teyam,” you say quietly. “tell me what you’re really thinking.”
he exhales through his nose.
“I’m angry,” he starts. “not at you. never.”
“I hate that they spoke to you like that.” a pause.
“and I hate that they touched you at all.”
you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, then another at the corner of his mouth.
“I see you, neteyam.”
“I see you, yawne.”
you kiss him properly this time, feeling the tension escape him with your touch. his hands leave your back to hold your face, pulling you deeper into his lips with the most gentle force.
“you’re the only one that matters to me.” you murmur against him. you feel the corners of his mouth curl into a smile, and you pull away to admire the sight.
“there’s my pretty boy.” you coo, pointer finger stroking along the edge of his jaw.
his breath shudders out, tension finally easing as he pulls you closer, forehead resting against yours again.
Summary: It is said, that the brothers had learned to hunt side by side before they had even learned to speak. Together, they were an unstoppable force. A dangerous duo. And right now, their entire focus was on their most recent prey: You.
Warnings: explicit smut, clan swap au, non-con, kidnapping, mmf threesome, body modifications, sex slaves, p in v, oral (f&m receiving), praise kink, possessiveness, abuse of power, power imbalance, teasing, sexual tension, frenum ladder piercing, tongue piercing, prinz albert piercing, consumption of bodily fluids (blood, cum, spit), creampie, pet play, dom/sub, biting, marking
All na‘vi know their story. Of the time when the Omatikaya’s song was silenced.
When the fire came from the mountains and burned what was left of their forest, burned even their last tree of souls and left them with nothing but the ash of grief and the fire of hatred, the Omatikaya had chosen to leave the life they’ve known behind.
They say, the great mother did not hear their crying when the sky-people came to destroy their home. And she closed her eyes when rivers of fire poured through the valleys, burned down their last sanctuary and with it, all the hope that was left. And most importantly, their faith.
The Omatikaya were once proud people, respecting the balance of life and Eywas will. But that was many songs ago.
Now, all na‘vi know their story. They know of their suffering, their pain and their loss. And they know what this had made them become. That Toruk Makto had lead them through these difficult times, whilst their tsahìk spoke words no one had sung before.
She taught the people that Eywa had turned her back on them. That the Great Mother’s silence was not a trial, but a judgment. She would not come to help. She would not come to provide. Not anymore.
But the Omatikaya were not weak. Much like wood to an open flame, their hatred only made them grow stronger.
Soon, the old laws were reshaped, the balance bent until it cracked. They learned to live where nothing else grew. They took from the land of others, took from the people, took more than they could hold in their greedy hands and feed their never ending hunger. Hatred, once a warning emotion, quickly became a weapon. So the Omatikaya endured, but they were no longer what they had been.
They were feared where they had once been welcomed. Remembered where they had once been loved.
And what had once been a peaceful clan, had now become a warning to all.
You remember the stories as they were told to you, quietly, at the edge of the fire, always after the children had been sent away. These were stories meant to teach caution, to strengthen your own faith, like a reminder of what could happen if one were to disrupt the balance and violate eywas rules.
The air reeks of smoke, blood and old ash. The ground beneath you is hard and lifeless, as if even the earth has learned not to come here.
Your mother, the tsahìk, and your father, olo’eyktan of your clan, had been dragged away into Neytiris tent many hours ago and had not returned since then. Worry was gnawing at your very existence as you continue to tug and writhe against the rope binding your hands and feet together, pinning you to a charred down tree. But it’s useless. Aside from the horrible pain of your wrists and ankles being scrubbed raw by the rope, these knots did not budge.
Further away, the people of the Omatikaya moved in hectic, rhythmic circles around a towering fire. Its flames are fed too well, burning bright and hungry, casting warped shadows across their painted bodies. This is not a dance of thanks or mourning. It is a dance of ownership, of victory.
Neytiri, the tsahìk, stands closest to the fire, her silhouette sharp against the flames. Around her neck and wrists hang severed kurus, their tendrils dried and darkened, strung together like trophies.
Your throat tightens and you force yourself to look away. Among your people, to sever a kuru is unthinkable. It is worse than death. And yet they celebrate her, dance around the fire, around the blades she circles in the air. It’s hypnotizing.
Toruk Makto sits apart from the rest, close enough to the fire that its light glints off the metal weapon resting across his knees. You were taught never to touch such things, never to let their poison seep into your hands, your thoughts or your spirit. Metal was forbidden, it was one of Eywas rules. The first and most important one.
And yet, Jakesuli holds them as if they are part of him.
His posture is calm, assured. This is not a leader burdened by duty, but one who has long accepted what he has become. The great shadow of Toruk’s wings loom behind him, his skin scarred from battle.
Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you let your head fall forward until your chin rests against your chest and your braids slip forward to hide your face.
"Eywa ngahu, kìyevame srak nì’aw, slä oe tsun tivìran san oe lu… [Eywa be with me, even if you are silent, for my song still knows your name…]," Your voice trembles when you begin to sing, thin and hoarse from smoke and fear, but it does not break.
You sing on, letting the words trail into one another, softer now, the prayer dissolving into breath as tears swell behind your closed eyes. They spill anyway, tracking down your cheeks and dripping from your chin onto the hard ground below.
You’re so lost in your prayer, that you don’t even realize that you are not alone anymore, until a low, dark chuckle cuts through your voice, silencing you.
"Ah, look brother. A little birdy is singing a song for us."
Your breath catches sharply and you gasp and jerk your head up, braids falling back to reveal your face. Two figures stand before you, one of them tilts his head, studying you with open curiosity. The other smiles, slow and sharp.
"What is it?" the first asks, his voice smooth with amusement as he steps closer. "Are we not the ones you expected to answer your call?"
"Is your song not ours?" The other one continues, mockingly gentle as he crouches until his eyes are level with yours, tilting your head up with his thumb and finger pinching your chin. "You sang it so sweetly. We thought perhaps it was meant for us."
Anger boils hot beneath your skin at his touch. Before fear can stop you, you bare your teeth and snap at his fingers, jaws closing on empty air as he jerks his hand back just in time.
For a heartbeat, there is only the crackle of the fire and loud drums in the distance that sound so far away.
Then he blinks slowly, before he laughs loud enough to make you flinch.
"Oh, look at that!" He says, grinning sharply and his eyes bright with delight. "This one has fire." His laughter is genuine, almost pleased.
"Fire indeed," The other one behind him chuckles, low and approving.
Your heart hammers against your ribs. You draw back as far as the bindings allow, bark pressing painfully into your shoulders, and swallow hard.
"W-Who are you?" you demand, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat. "What do you want?"
The taller one straightens, folding his arms over his chest with an unsettling calm. In the firelight, you can see the markings of an Omatikaya warrior etched into his skin, newer scars layered over old ones, pieces of sharpened bone pieced through his skin, worn like decorations under red paint and black coal.
"Our mother has allowed us to look at our latest prisoners," he explains evenly, as if this was something casual to them. "Before they are sacrificed."
Your stomach drops.
"The others were…" He pauses, searching for the right word, then shrugs. "Less interesting. Nothing worth our attention."
The crouched warrior’s grin widens as his gaze drags over you, lingering far too long. "But you…," he says softly, voice lowering.
He’s purposefully not finishing that sentence, trying to make you uncomfortable, but to you it matters little anyways. You’re too occupied with thinking about what the other one had said earlier.
Mother? But that means…
Your eyes widened as you realized that these two weren’t just anyone. These were not just any warriors of the Omatikaya. They are the sons of Toruk Makto and their gruesome tsahìk. Feared warriors among their clan, brutal and cruel.
You’ve heard of them before.
The elder one is Neteyam. It’s been told, he is as skilled with the bow as his mother. He builds his arrows himself. The heads are carved to break bone and split muscle, dipped into poison to make survival impossible. He knows exactly where to place them so the most damage can be done with a single, precise release. And he could hit a target from any distance, moving through the forest without a sound. Neteyam does not waste shots, he does not miss and he does not need to watch the body fall. You are dead, the moment he aims at you.
The people say, the Sullys eldest hunts palulukan for fun, not for food or glory, but because he can. They say that the great apex predator of the forest, the one even seasoned hunters avoid, knows his scent and turns away from it.
Lo’ak, the younger brother, is another thing entirely.
You’ve heard that he dips his knife in poison too, not ultimately to kill, but to paralyze you. Everyone knew, that Lo’ak took enjoyment from playing with his prey.
But even from a distance, he was just as deadly as his brother. He had been trained by his father in wielding sky people’s weapons from a very young age, metal pressed into his hands as if it were just another toy for a child.
Apparently, he could name a gun without ever seeing it, just from the sound it made when it’s fired. They say he could take one apart blind, fingers moving from memory alone, and then put it back together again without ever opening his eyes.
It’s said, the brothers have learned to hunt side by side before they had even learned to speak.
Where Neteyam ended things with scary precision, Lo’ak made the pain last. One controls, the other destroys. And they don’t need to look at each other to know what the other is about to do.
Together, they were an unstoppable force. A dangerous duo.
And right now, their entire focus was on you.
"Look at her," Lo’ak calls to his brother. He grins, sharp and pleased, and reaches out again to cup your face and trail a thumb along your cheek. His touch is warm and possessive. "She’s so pretty, isn’t she?"
Your breath stutters at his words. Your entire body goes rigid, every instinct screaming at you to pull away, but there is nowhere to go.
"She is," Neteyam agrees softly.
That, somehow, is worse. His voice carries no hunger, no excitement, only quiet certainty, as though he is merely stating a fact.
"I want to play with her first." Lo‘ak whispers, licking his lips. He talks about you as if you aren’t even really here.
Play? Your eyes widen before you can stop them. Horror flashes across your face as you make up all possible scenarios of what his words could indicate in your head, which the brothers notice immediately.
They chuckle, low, amused sounds shared between them like a private joke. Lo’ak’s grin deepens, clearly delighted by your reaction, while Neteyam watches you with an unreadable expression, head tilted slightly, as if committing the moment to memory.
Then Neteyam steps forward. He places a hand on his brother’s shoulder and when Lo’ak glances up at him, he nods once toward the fire. No words. None needed.
Lo’ak clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes like a sulking child denied a toy, but there’s no real resistance in him. He pulls his hand back from your face at last and straightens to his full height.
Before turning away and following Neteyam, he looks at you one more time and winks.
Then, their silhouettes melt back into the firelight, swallowed by shadows, and you’re left staring at the empty space in front of you, heart still pounding hard enough to hurt.
For a brief, fragile moment, you let yourself believe that this was it. That they were just trying to scare you.
Later, when the fire outside has burned down to something lower and steadier, exhaustion finally begins to win.
Your head dips forward once, twice. But each time you jolt awake, forcing your eyes open again. You do not trust sleep here. Still, your body betrays you, muscles trembling from the long strain of fear. You are just slipping again, just for a breath, until you hear footsteps approach.
Immediately, you snap awake.
Two warriors stand in front of you, but not the same brothers from earlier. These ones are much older, their limbs thinner due to the lack of human genes in their blood, heads shaved bare and marked with thick scars that run over scalp and jaw alike. Their faces are hard and unreadable, eyes dull in a way that tells you they did not come to you on their own. Someone had send them.
Your pulse spikes.
Before you can speak, one of them reaches for the bindings at your wrists. Your breath comes fast and shallow as rough fingers work the knots loose. Hands roughly close around your upper arms and haul you to your feet.
You stumble, legs weak, barely able to keep pace as they pull you forward.
No one speaks and you do not dare ask what is happening.
They lead you through the camp, past dying fires and smaller tents. The night is silent, safe for the sound of feet on the dry ground. At the far edge of the clearing stands a tent larger than the rest, looming in the dark.
Your steps slow despite yourself.
Skulls hang from its entrance, some small, some far too large to belong to any Na’vi. Giant teeth are lashed together with sinew, forming crude arches above the doorway. Feathers, bones, bits of metal, decorations pulled straight from a nightmare sway softly in the night breeze, clicking faintly against one another.
The warriors at your side do not hesitate. They roughly shove you inside, past the animal hide that marks the entrance.
You stumble forward, barely catching yourself before falling, and then the flap drops shut behind you.
The first thing you notice is that the tent is warm. Outside, goosebumps had raised on your arms from the cold night air.
But inside, a small fire burns low at its center, casting a soft, flickering glow over furs spread thick across the ground. They’re dyed deep red and black, layered carefully. For a moment, the contrast is disorienting. It almost looks… cozy.
Then you notice the rest.
Skulls arranged along the walls, staring with empty eyes. Bones carved and painted, strung together in careful patterns. Metal chains hang from the high ceiling, catching the firelight when they sway, heavy and cold looking. There is no part of the space untouched by something taken from death.
Your stomach twists.
You take a hesitant step further inside, bare feet sinking into the furs. The tent is silent except for the crackle of the fire and you come to realize that you are alone.
Not for long, though.
The animal hides at the entrance rustle softly, then part, and two figures step inside.
Neteyam enters first.
Firelight rolls over him, catching on the broad plane of his chest, painted deep red. Streaks of grey ash follow the hard lines of his body. His loincloth hangs low on his hips, woven with painstaking precision, the patterns tight and symmetrical to match those of his cummerbund. Everything about him looks intentional and controlled.
His ears twitch and his tail flicks the moment he sees you.
Your eyes immediately catch on the marks littered across his body, bone and carved ornaments lining his torso and arms, heavy but balanced. From one earlobe hangs a thin metal chain, dark feathers threaded through it. It sways gently as he moves, brushing against his braids that are adorned with bones too. His gaze settles on you without surprise, as if he had been expecting this moment.
Lo’ak slips in behind him and the contrast is immediate.
The sides of his head are shaved clean, the rest of his braids pulled back into a low ponytail that is decorated with spines. Two loose braids frame his face, beads carved from bone and bullets clicking softly as he walks. His skin is painted much like his brother’s, red and ash, but where Neteyam’s markings feel ceremonial, Lo’ak’s look careless, almost playful, as if he smeared them on without patience.
Your eyes begin to wander despite yourself.
One of his ears is chipped, but both are lined with piercings too. But they’re are not bone. His are made of steel. You could tell by the way they reflect the firelight. Across his chest hangs a belt of bullets, resting against painted skin, and you wonder if these are part of his decorations too or if these are there to be used.
Your gaze flicks back to Neteyam, who walks with his chin lifted, shoulders squared. He looks like a man meant to be honored and feared.
Lo’ak sways as he follows, grin already pulling at his mouth, eyes bright with amusement, as if this is all just a joke, and a good one at that.
Fear claws its way up your spine.
You retreat instinctively, backing up as far as the tent allows until your calves hit the furs piled near the wall. Your heart hammers, breath coming quick and shallow, eyes darting between them as they move farther inside.
"Welcome, txeptsyip [little flame]," Neteyam says, as though this is a meeting long overdue.
His voice is calm. Pleasant, even. He folds his arms across his chest, rolls his shoulders once as if settling into himself and then looks at you with open interest. You can’t help but shiver as his eyes roll over you body before he holds your stare with warm intensity.
Lo’ak, on the other hand, moves immediately.
He takes two long, quick step toward you, too fast and too close. You flinch, but Neteyam’s hand comes out just as quickly, pressing flat against his brother’s chest. It stops him cold.
Lo’ak clicks his tongue, irritation flashing across his face as he stares back up at Neteyam. He leans back a fraction, shoulders loose, posture anything but obedient, but ultimately stays where he is. When your eyes finally meet his, the scowl melts into a slow, knowing smirk.
"What do you want from me?" you ask immediately, forcing the words out before your courage could fail you.
Neteyam’s gaze sharpens, just slightly. "We’ve come to propose a deal, txeptsyip. [little flame]"
Your brows furrow. "A… deal?"
Lo’ak laughs under his breath, rocking back on his heels like he’s enjoying this far too much, while Neteyam continues, "You have two paths ahead of you."
He lifts one finger.
"You will be sacrificed, like the rest of your clan. No one will mourn or even remember you, and your kuru will adorn my mothers necklace like all the others before you."
You swallow thickly. Then, he lifts a second finger.
"Or," he says evenly, "you can live."
Lo’ak’s grin widens as he adds, "with us."
Your chest tightens as understanding sinks in, and it’s almost nauseating.
"You mean like a prisoner or… a slave," you say quietly, already shaking your head.
Fear trembles through you, yet your hands curl into fists at your sides.
"I’d rather die," you whisper, then louder you say, "I’d rather join the great mother than live like this!"
The brothers laugh at your answer. Not cruelly. It is the kind of laughter that carries disbelief, as though you have said something naïve rather than brave. Embarrassed, your ears fold flatly against your head.
Lo’ak lets out a short breath through his nose then, shaking his head and Neteyam’s mouth curves into a smile as their laughter dies down.
"Slave," he repeats with a chuckle. "That might be the wrong word for it."
Lo’ak moves then, but this time, his brother doesn’t stop him. You suck in a sharp breath as he begins to circle you, feet soundless on the furs, his presence pressing in from behind, from the side. You track him with your eyes until he slips out of view, until you feel him more than see him.
"You think in extremes," he murmurs. "You forget there are other ways to belong."
Lo‘aks hand reaches out and a finger gently traces the curve of your spine, making you jump.
"You would have everything you could dream of," Neteyam continues, eyes sharp as they watch your face for any kind of reaction. "No more hunger. No more running from the vrrteps [demons]."
He steps in closer, voice lowering, almost intimate. "You would be protected. No one would touch you without our say. No one would take from you ever again."
Truthfully, he made it sound like safety. As if this was an act of kindness.
And for a brief, dangerous moment, your body betrays you, because it remembers what it is like to be cold, to be hungry, to sleep with fear curled tight in your chest. It remembers empty days and long nights and prayers whispered to eywa for protection.
The brothers see the hesitation flicker in your eyes.
Lo’ak smiles immediately. "See?" he says from behind you, his voice much closer than before. "You’re thinking about it."
You do. But deep down you know, everything they offer comes with an unspoken price. May that be obedience, gratitude or something else. A life wrapped in comfort, yes, but lived on your knees. Fed by the very poison Eywa forbade.
Before you could pull back, Lo’ak reaches for your hand.
His grip closes tight around your wrist, firm enough that you know fighting it would be useless. Your breath stutters, but you do not give him the satisfaction of struggling. He tugs once, guiding you toward the center of the tent.
The furs beneath your feet are impossibly soft, thick and warm. You’re so tired, only kept awake by adrenaline and fear, you knew you’d melt into them the moment you were allowed to rest on them.
Lo’ak releases your hand only once you are where they want you, fingers lingering just a moment too long. He grins at your tension, at the way your shoulders are drawn tight, your jaw clenched like it is the only thing holding you together.
"You would be no slave, txeptsyip, [little flame]" Neteyam says quietly.
He steps closer now, finally closing the distance he had allowed you. He stops at your other side, not touching, but near enough that you could feel the heat rolling off him.
"You would just be…," he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "ours."
There’s warmth on your backside too, and you gasp softly when you turn your head and find Lo‘ak this close to you. He leans down, until his lips nearly touch the lobe of your ear.
"Ours to kiss. Ours to touch…", something warm and wet touches your ear, before you realize that’s his tongue teasing your lobe, "and ours to fuck."
Goosebumps raise all over your skin at his words.
Their bodies radiate heat, caging you in, and for the first time since they‘ve entered the tent, you understand something with sick clarity.
They are not trying to frighten you. They are trying to persuade you.
"No," you say, breath shallow but voice firm. "I can’t— I won’t!"
Neteyam’s expression doesn’t harden. If anything, it softens.
Lo’ak’s fingers brush your hip— barely there, a featherlight touch meant more to distract than to claim. It’s infuriating how gentle it is. He’s not brutally grabbing you, how you expected them to. Not forcing. Just enough to make you aware of where you are. Of who stands behind you.
Neteyam steps closer then, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. He lifts his hands and carefully cups your face in them, thumbs resting beneath your cheekbones.
"We’d take good care of you," Neteyam tells you, voice calm, almost reasonable. "We protect what is ours."
"And we never let it go," Lo‘ak adds, his smile sinister.
Your heart hammers painfully against your ribs. Every instinct screams at you to pull away, to bite and fight them. But another part of you, traitorous and tired, feels the pull of their attention. The certainty with which they speak, as though the world outside this tent no longer exists and it’s just the three of you.
"If you need proof of this," Neteyam says, tongue flicking over his bottom lip, "then we can show you."
The words are barely spoken before the space between you disappears. He leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away— time you do not take. His forehead brushes yours first, breath warm against your lips, and then his mouth meets yours in a way that steals the very air from your lungs.
The kiss is firm, claiming and unyielding, but also controlled. Like everything else about him. The world narrows to the press of his mouth, the heat of his hands still cradling your face and his tongue as his slips between your lips. A small, helpless sound escapes you before you can stop it, but Neteyam greedily swallows it down.
Behind you, Lo’ak inhales sharply, a sound that borders on a groan. As if he were the one kissing you, sucking on your tongue, tasting your salvia.
"We’re gonna show you just how good you would have it with us," he murmured into your ear. "Belonging to us is a privilege not many have been allowed to."
Your pulse is racing. Your thoughts are tangled.
Lo’aks hands are still at your hips, squeezing soft flesh before they wander up higher, cupping your breasts. They’re so big and warm, and you feel each little scar on his skin as they impatiently rip away your top. Your too busy meeting Neteyam eager lips to do something against this, so you just gasp into the kiss when Lo‘ak begins to tease your nipples, rolls them between his fingers until they turn into hard pebbles.
"Mmmh, these would look so good pierced," he purrs lowly, kissing your shoulder and letting his canine rake over the nape of your neck. "I will put my mark on them soon, txeptsyip [little flame]."
As Lo‘ak kneads your breasts in his hands, Neteyam’s slowly move from cupping your face to squeezing your hips, gliding over your backside.
You don’t know who’s doing what or where anymore, but your limbs are becoming unstable and weak as both pair of hands explore your body. Heat was quickly spreading through your core, slithering deep in a place where you suddenly began to crave them.
Their low hums vibrated against your skin, surrounding you like a subtle lullaby. They were slowly caging you in between their bodies, more and more, until you began to squirm.
Sucked into an abyss of sensations, your head began to swim, until you were unable to focus on anything else besides their lips and hands all over you. All you could see, hear and smell was them. You were swallowed between them like a trapped bird.
Finally breaking the kiss with a gasp, your head falls back against Lo’aks broad chest as Neteyams hand sneaks it’s way lower and between your thighs. He cups your sex, feeling for how wet you are and then slides his fingers between your folds.
"You are very wet here," he groans, his finger rolling your clit easily with how slippery it was. Then he slides it lower, before he slips his finger into you in one, harsh thrust that makes you gasp. "But you are soaking here."
Your inner walls are clenching down around the single digit Neteyam thrusts into you, curling it slightly until you can’t hold back a long, drawn out moan.
"I want a taste," Lo‘ak says to his brother, his voice urgent and commanding. For a moment you fear they will start fighting over you, but then the older one slips his hand free from your loincloth and you pant heavily at the sudden loss.
It’s not for long, though, because he then spins you around so you’re facing Lo‘ak.
They work as one, starting to undress you by pulling down your loincloth and coverings. Neteyam settles himself down onto the furs first, maneuvering you so your head rests comfortably on his lap and spreading your thighs wide enough for his brother to settle himself between them.
His hands and lips are everywhere, kissing your cheek, nibbling at your earlobe, hands stroking your hair, as you watch Lo‘ak sink down to his knees.
The grin on his face is sharp and dangerous and you swallow to wet your dry throat. Raw nerves make your limbs shake, and you want to close your legs to hide yourself from them, but Lo‘ak does not allow it.
His hands glide along the inside of your thighs, keeping them apart. He kisses you there, kisses your navel and mound too. Kisses the inside of your knee as he drapes your legs over his wide shoulders. His teeth tease your skin, and when he bites into the softness of your inner thigh, you yelp in pain.
Neteyam keeps you pinned when you try to wriggle free, as if the pain had somehow managed to bring back the rational thinking part of you, the one that made you realize that this was wrong, so very wrong.
Your hands claw at Neteyam’s arms, but he coos softly into your ear, "shh, you will be fine. My brother is just teasing. We would never hurt you."
"That is, if you’re being a good girl," Lo‘ak adds from between your legs, licking the bite marks that are slowly turning purplish on your blue skin. Your tail thrashes against the furs, your chest rapidly raising and falling.
Behind you, Neteyam’s chest vibrates with a dark chuckle. You want to protest, want to tell them that you are neither their slave nor their pet, and that you would never be good for them. But then Lo‘ak grins and sticks out his tongue, ready to lick you there, yet is stopped short by the sound of your sharp gasp.
There, in the middle of his tongue, sits a small bead of steel. It reflects the light of the fire nearby, shiny and wet with spit, and your whole body goes rigid at the thought of it touching you.
"Kehe [no]— wait," you nearly choke on your own words with how hastily your force them out, "you— you can’t, it is forbidden to touch metal!"
Both brothers laugh softly at your words, neither of them giving you the impression that they were taking your pleas seriously. Instead, Lo‘ak just grins at you, his face continuing to lower until you feel his warm breath on your cunt.
"Oh baby, trust me. You want that metal to touch you," he murmurs.
"But…t-the great mother will—"
"There’s no great mother here, no eywa. Just us," Neteyam silenced you. "But you will learn to worship us all the same."
And before you could say another word, that metal is pressed harshly against your clit. The sensation of it is like no other.
"O-Oh!"
Truthfully, you expected it to be cold at first, but the steel is warmed up from sitting snugly against his tongue. It glides against your clit, rolls over and around it as Lo’ak expertly moves his tongue, and your back arches off the furs with how good it feels.
"See?" Neteyam chuckles. "We knew you would like it."
You’re so lost in the moment, you don’t even realize how hard your pressing your nails into Neteyam’s forearms, but he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He’s just holding you, rubbing his nose along your temple, breathing in your moans and whimpers as his brother feasts on you.
Puckering his lips, Lo‘ak sucks your clit into his mouth until your thighs begin to shake from how quick you were approaching your orgasm.
"I can feel you shaking, txeptsyip [little flame]," Neteyam whispers in your ear. "You’re being such a good girl for him. Yes, keep spreading those pretty legs."
More moans where spilling free as Lo‘ak circled your clit with his piercing, before sliding it down and fucking you with his tongue. Between your thighs he was moaning, slurping up your arousal without care for how filthy he sounded. The more you spread your legs, the more he was pushing his face against your cunt, hungry for more.
It was mind blowing how skilled he was with his tongue. You had never experienced anything like this, and it almost made you forget about the circumstances that lead you here.
"If you want to come, you can just let it go," the brother behind you murmured with a soft chuckle. He was rolling one of your nipples between his thumb and a finger, lightly pinching and tugging to egg you on.
"When you are ours, we will make you come as many times as you want to," he explains, almost casually. "As many times as you deserve, txeptsyip [little flame]."
His words made you feel dizzy.
They were planning to keep you for their pleasure, but that did not mean your own would come short. They made that much clear.
Aware of every new twitch and shudder, Lo’ak was adjusting the patterns of his tongue accordingly, until you couldn’t take it anymore.
"I- I think I’m gonna come," you managed to force the words out between quick breaths.
A low, throaty groan that nearly sounded like a growl broke free from Lo’aks mouth at the sound of that.
"Do it," he growled, barely lifting his lips enough to detach from your clit. "Come for me, c‘mon. Let me taste it."
It was heat against heat, hot mouth against hotter skin. His sharp tongue flicks over your clit a final time, metal hard and hot against it, and then you break into a thousand pieces.
Neteyam holds you as you come, sucking marks into your throat and shoulder, while you claw at his arms hard enough to draw blood. He groans with you, enjoying the pain that your pleasure inflicts on him.
You breath in shallow pants as you come down from your high, suddenly feeling entirely too hot under your skin. But there is barely time for you to process what had just happened.
Quickly, too quick for your liking, Lo‘ak grabs your wrists and pulls you away from his brothers lap.
The grin on his face is a mean one, with the lower half of his face still glistening in your arousal, ash and paint smeared so the pretty blue color of his skin was now shining through.
Your brain isn’t even functioning properly yet again, when the younger brother pulls you into a dirty kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue, swirling the tiny metal ball around your mouth and teasing your lips with it. He releases you only when you think you might suffocate because he leaves you no air to breath, and you gasp when he finally does.
"If you already enjoyed this small piece of metal," Lo‘ak says lowly, grabs your shoulders and slowly turns you over so your head was now resting on his lap while Neteyam settled between your thighs. "Just wait until you find out what my brother will do to do."
Blinking a few times, you stare up at the other brother with wide eyes. Your first instinct is to close your legs and sit up, but Lo‘ak has you secured against him, his wide biceps caging you in. His skin is almost hot to the touch, muscles like steel as you wrap your hands around his arms, much like you did to Neteyam before.
Your thighs are spread further the closer he shuffles between them, his hands holding them up by the underside of your knees. But he’s not looking at you at all.
Neteyam’s entire focus is on your pussy.
His head is tilted slightly, the look on his face almost fond as he admires you. One of his hands comes to lay on your mound, his thumb gently circling around your clit, before he carefully slides the little hood up so he could get a better view at it.
Your breathing comes out heavier then before, and your entire body twitches every time he comes to close to that little bundle of nerves.
His thumb slides lower then, teasing you entrance and carefully pulling your lips apart as if he was examining you. It’s almost too much for you, and you try to hide your face in Lo‘aks arms.
"Still so wet," he finally breaths. "Such a tiny, tight looking body that you have. I will enjoy breaking you in."
The chest that you’re leaning against rumbles with a dark chuckle, then Lo‘ak leans down to whisper into your ear, "he‘s been talking about nothing else ever since we caught you."
His words make you shiver as realization dawns in on you. This was never a moment of impulse or a whim born tonight. You were always meant to end up here, with them.
When they took your people, they didn’t spare you because you begged well enough. You were chosen. Selected by spoiled sons of a broken clan, raised knowing that nothing was ever denied to them.
The fire crackles next to you, and then Neteyam’s hands leave your skin in favor of untying his loincloth.
When the dark piece of fabric finally falls away, you suck in a breath. The sound is loud and impolite, and you immediately want to clasp a hand over your mouth.
The warrior in front of you may be adorned with bones, leather and other natural materials that are not so different from those of any other na‘vi, honoring his heritage. But there, along the base of his cock, sits something foreign and wrong.
"H-How many…" the words come out as a hushed whisper of disbelief, your eyes wide as you try and fail not to stare at him like this.
On the underside of his length, Neteyam’s cock is pierced with four rows of small, neatly placed, shiny metal balls.
"Eight," he says proudly, letting his hand glide over each one of them.
Without thinking, you ask, "did… didn’t they hurt?"
"They did," he smiles. "That’s why I got them."
You swallow thickly. Neteyam makes a show of letting his fingers slip over the piercings, squeezing the tip and huffing out a breath. His eyes are half lidded, pupils blown as he watches you for any kind of reaction, seemingly getting off at the way you nervously bite your lip. Your own breath hitches when he moves closer, your eyes fixed on the forbidden metal that dares to touch your skin.
The soft head of his cock touches you first, making the fine hair on your neck raise as he lets it part your folds and smear your slick arousal over your clit. You hate how good it feels, until warm steel touches you too, and you don’t know whether to cry or moan because that, too, feels incredible.
Neteyam slides his cock against you in lazy strokes, letting you feel each piercing, and your imagination runs wild with how these little bumps might feel inside you.
"I want to watch you take every single one of them," he murmurs then, and your eyes widen slightly at the realization that you are supposed to take him to the last row of them.
"N-No, I can’t!" You begin to struggle, but Lo‘aks arms remind you that it’s no use. One of his hands pinches a nipple hard, like a reminder to stay put and you cry out softly. "Don’t," the younger brother says, his canine crazing your ear. "I like a woman with fire, but we’re trying to play nice because you’ve been good so far. Don’t make us regret that. I’d hate to break my new toy so early."
You bite your tongue in order not to spit venom at him, but your face must’ve given your thoughts away.
Neteyam chuckles softly, "If you want to be bad, save that for next time, txeptsyip [little flame]. But we will not hold back then."
The glare you give them wavers, and it disappears fully when he begins to push the tip of his cock against your entrance.
The stretch that follows makes you suck in a breath. He’s thick and long, and the first inch feels like you’re being split apart. But it’s a good kind of pain, you’re wet and pliant after your first orgasm, so when he pushes himself inside, warmth begins to spread in your core as your body gives way.
But then you feel that first touch of metal, and your thighs instinctively want to jerk close around his hips.
"Shh, relax, you were doing so good taking me," Neteyam coos, his hands spreading your legs wider as he sinks further into you. The first row of piercings slips into you and your mouth falls open with a surprised "oh!".
Those tiny beads feel so foreign against you, so warm to the touch. And eywa forgive you, they felt incredible. The sensation was like no other as he continued to push, making them roll along your inner walls.
"That’s one… and two," Neteyam says lowly, licking his lips to wet them. "Come on, count them for me."
Your head spins. You wouldn’t have been able to even tell them your name if one of them asked you right now, but then he slides in a few more inches and you manage to breath out quietly, "three…f-four."
Behind you, Lo‘ak was whispering sweet nothings into your ear, words you couldn’t really focus on but they made you so much wetter and then, "five, s..ix."
Sweat was slicking your forehead as more and more of his length was pushing past your tight entrance. It felt never ending, filling you constantly until you thought there was no room left inside you anymore. You felt so full of him, until finally the last row of piercings slid inside you.
"S-Seven…" You whimpered and Neteyam let out a deep groan, "eight."
"Smart girl," Lo‘ak teased from behind, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as if he worried you weren’t able to see just how deep Neteyam was inside of you. But even with your eyes closed you could feel him, could feel the heat as he breached you, the weight of his cock, the smooth tip again your cervix and the eight little beads of steel massaging your body from the inside.
You tried to swallow a soft, needy sound, that would give away how bad you wanted him to move, hating how good he made you feel, but unable to hide it any longer.
"Don’t forget to breathe," he grins, and you release the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. The moment you exhale, Neteyam withdraws from your tight heat, only to slam himself right back in.
Now you know why he’s told you to breathe.
The moan he practically fucks out of you is loud and embarrassing. You’re sure the entire village had just heard you.
And then, Neteyam begins to move. His strokes are hard, deep and on point, his pace only increasing as time passes. Every time he enters you, you feel his piercings so clearly and your moans turn more desperate with every thrust of his hips. His eyes roam over you, starting from where you were connected— in and out, his cock glistening with your slickness. Then your breasts, bouncing every time your hips meet, only supported by Lo‘aks hands squeezing and toying with them. And finally your face, lips swollen red from occasional dirty kisses, cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded.
Neteyam let out a grunt whenever he pulled back, before burying himself deep again, his cock knocking on your cervix as if he was made of steel too. There are words coming out your mouth, but you don’t recognize them as anything coherent. You think they’re curses, prayers, maybe even both.
You’re so lost in your pleasure, you don’t even realize that your eyes are falling closed, until Lo‘ak gives your cheek a few surprisingly gentle taps with his hand, jolting you back into reality.
"Hey, we‘re not done with you yet, txeptsyip [little flame]." He grins. "Can’t have you passing out on us now."
Lo‘aks hand then cups your face and squeezes your cheeks, forcing your jaw to drop, "yeah, that’s right. Open up for me."
You don’t know what possesses you in this moment to obey them so willingly, but when his face leans over yours, you eagerly stick your tongue out and let him lick over yours, before he let’s a thick droplet of spit land into your mouth.
It’s filthy and humiliating, and both men groan in perfect sync when you swallow down his spit.
"Fuck, you’re making me so hard," Lo‘ak sighs. The cock that’s buried deep inside you throbs in agreement and you mewl sickening sweet at that. Whatever it is that they’re doing to you, you don’t feel like yourself anymore.
This isn’t really you, missing your usual bite, your instinct to survive. This is a woman reduced to pleasure and nothing more. Just a hole for them to fuck. And worst of all, you were enjoying it.
Your head felt empty of all doubts and worries as you watched Lo‘ak move to kneel besides your head and then push down his loincloth to free his own cock. Your vision was slightly blurred from how hard Neteyam was thrusting into you, but you could still see the thin, polished ring of steel that was piercing through the head and the small slit of his tip.
Shuffling closer, Lo‘ak caressed your jaw with his hand, while he used the other to eagerly press his length against your lips, pushing until you opened up for him.
"C‘mon, suck my cock. Get it wet for me, baby."
So you did. Your tongue was stretched out as far as it could reach, and Lo‘ak immediately began sliding his length against the wet muscle. He tasted like ash and salty musk, heavy against your tongue and you moaned from deep within your throat before you slowly took him in your mouth.
"Fuuuck, there you go. That’s a good fucking girl," Lo‘ak groans at the sight, thrusting his hips forward to push himself deeper into your mouth. Your tongue begins to swirl around his head, tasting the metal of his piercing, teasing it, before you hallow your cheeks and suck.
Simultaneously, Neteyam was thrusting into you harder, pushing you further against Lo‘ak’s cock until you were beginning to gag on it.
Everything was too much —too good, too deep, too fast, too rough. All you could do was lay there take it.
Soon, the brothers had found a rhythm both of them were benefiting from, and you were moved back and forth only by the thrusts of both of them.
"Look at her. She is perfect for us," Neteyam chuckled from above you, your inner walls clenching down hard on his cock at his words. "Such a good, obedient pet."
Every now and then your jaw was hanging slack, letting moans fall freely when hands you didn’t know belonged to which one of them started rubbing your clit in viciously fast circles. Sometimes it felt as if they were both fighting for their place to make your feel good, and it was two hands rubbing against that oversensitive little nub.
Lo‘ak gave a loud groan whenever that happened, seemingly enjoying being able to just thrust himself into you until he hit the back of your throat, using your mouth in such a filthy, dirty way that it made your eyes roll into the back of your head.
"So eager to please and so easy to use," he agreed with a grin. "I don’t care what path she chooses, I want to keep her."
It was embarrassing how fast Lo‘ak and Neteyam could turn you into a trembling, whimpering mess. The squelching sounds they expertly worked out of you only added further to your humiliation, but also your pleasure. At this pace, it was impossible not to come. And both brothers knew that.
Soon, you could feel that familiar, addicting, tension building up in your core, stealing the very air from your lungs as you moaned around the cock in your mouth.
Higher and higher you felt that tension building, felt it crawl under your skin, a warmth spreading through your core. You wanted— no, you needed to come. There was no way around it. You found yourself having no control over this, just letting yourself go because it felt too good to care about consequences, or what was right or wrong anymore.
Metal and steel was beginning to poison you from the inside out, corrupting you slowly, turning you into this mess.
It was a buildup of tension that arched your back and curled your toes and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, something in you snapped.
When you come, it’s like a wave of release and you scream.
It pulses throughout your body, making you moan, loud and lewd and you should probably feel a little embarrassed too, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not when Neteyam was fucking you through it so good, his head falling back against his neck in pure bliss. And not when Lo‘ak was using the vibrations of your moans to get himself off of them, a fist in your hair to push you down his length.
You felt each of them pulse, and then there was nothing but heat. The heat of your own orgasm as it came crashing down on you, and then the warmth of cum flooding your insides from both ends as the brothers cursed under their breath, holding you down with greedy hands and making you take, take, take and then swallow, until you couldn’t take much more.
Lo‘ak was first to pull himself out of you, and immediately you were gasping for air. The salty taste of cum still lingered on your tongue as he bend down and shoved his own between your lips, leaving you breathless once more as he tastes himself on your tongue. There’s a brief moment of pain on your bottom lip, before he finally pulls back. You catch the glimpse of blood on the tip of his tongue, and when you mirror the way he was licking his lips, you taste copper of where he had bitten you.
"Sorry," he was grinning down at you, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip. "Couldn’t help myself."
Brows drawn together in a frown, a tiny part in the back of your head wanted you to sit up and finally do something— hiss, fight, scratch him, anything. But your limbs feel like molten wax, sticking to the furs like warm honey.
Still grinning sharply, Lo‘ak must’ve noticed, because he bend down to cradle your head in one of his strange, four fingered hands. But instead of helping you sit up, he was merely directing your gaze to what was happening between your thighs.
The older brother was still kneeling there, and only when the sight of his sweat slicked abs and his heaving chest caught your eyes, your core clenched around what you noticed was his cock still nestled inside of you.
As if he had been waiting for your attention, Neteyam then pulled out of you. He was doing it slow enough, you felt each row of metal graze along your oversensitive walls and a whimper broke free from you at the sensation. It was followed by the warm feeling of his cum oozing out of you after his cock had finally made way.
You feel wet, sticky and empty, and a fresh wave of shame washes over you as you watch Neteyam‘s mesmerized gaze, entirely hypnotized by the sight. Too tired to move, you’re forced to lay there and watch as he then raises a hand, collecting the cum that had dripped out of you, before shoving it back inside your cunt with two of his long fingers.
You nearly choke on a gasp as you feel them breach you in one fluid thrust.
"Ah-ah, I want you to keep it in there," Neteyam says, giving his fingers a twist that made you keen. "Until I have marked you properly, you will carry my seed so everyone can smell myself on you."
Once he had withdrawn his fingers, he brings them to his lips and licks them clean of you, his tail curling behind him as if pleased by the taste.
It’s the last thing you see before Lo’ak finally lets your weight sink back, your head resting against the thick furs beneath you again.
Before you know what’s happening next, they move with unsettling ease, one on either side of you, bodies closing in not to trap but to hold.
Neteyam lies down first, an arm sliding beneath your shoulders, steady and sure. Lo’ak follows a moment later, lazily stretching out behind you, his presence warm and close, like a living wall at your back.
Their hands are everywhere at once.
Cradling, stroking. Slow, absent motions meant to soothe you. Fingers trace idle patterns along your arms, your side, the curve of your waist, even your breasts. You hate how careful they are. Hate how your body responds to the warmth, the closeness, the simple fact of being held after all that had happened.
The fire crackles softly from somewhere behind you, and exhaustion presses down on you like a tide you can no longer fight. Your eyelids flutter despite your efforts, growing heavier with every slow breath you take.
"Sleep," Lo’ak murmurs. He nuzzles briefly into the crook of your neck, spreading his scent onto your skin. "You’re going to need it."
You feel a hand find your tail, fingers brushing along its length, teasing the soft hairs at the tip in a way that makes you shiver despite yourself. Neteyam leans in, his lips brushing your temple. The hand on your tail glides to its base, squeezing gently and your eyes finally fall shut.
The last thing you register, before sleep finally takes you out, is Neteyam’s voice in your ear, whispering softly,
"You belong to us now, txeptsyip [little flame]."
Chapter 2
Honorable mentions of artworks that inspired this fic:
Credit: @xyla1181
Credit: @porpunta
Credit: @fisheyea16
Credit: @liam_nae2
(If you want your art removed from this post please let me know!!)
Warnings: Scenting, Marking, Established relationship.
Synopsis: Lo’ak, wanting to pull a prank on his brother, hugs you and leaves his scent all over you. How does your boyfriend react when he smells it?
Word Count: 917
“You want to prank Neteyam?” Lo’ak questioned, face lighting up with mischievous interest. A slow grin tugged at his mouth, the kind that told you he was definitely up to no good. “Oh, I have an idea.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “That sentence alone is concerning.”
He leaned closer anyway, lowering his voice. “Trust me. It’ll be harmless. For the most part,” he said, mumbling the last bit.
Reluctantly, you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But if he gets mad, I’m blaming you.”
Lo’ak laughed under his breath, clearly pleased, and before you could react, he reached forward and pulled you into a hug. It was sudden, but playful, his arms settling gently around your upper back. He was careful, and respectful with it, but he stayed a moment longer than necessary, chin resting atop your head, while his palms rubbed in circular motions against your back.
You rolled your eyes but smiled, hugging him back innocently, wondering what kind of prank he had planned.
“Just a hug? How’s that a prank?” you asked after pulling back, giggling and genuinely confused.
“You’ll see,” Lo’ak replied with a sly grin.
Unbeknownst to you, his scent clung to your skin afterward.
Later that day, the forest was bathed in the dim gold of the nearing eclipse when, from afar, you spotted Neteyam near the training grounds. He was focused, absorbed in the careful act of cleaning his knife, with a calm, relaxed aura surrounding him.
You called his name softly at first, then a little louder, jogging toward him with a smile that stretched across your entire face.
Hearing his name being called by a familiar voice, he looked up toward your approaching figure, and his expression softened the moment he saw you. Without hesitation, he set his knife and cloth aside, standing with open arms, followed by you crashing into him. His embrace was comforting and enveloping, his strong arms gentle around you, breath warm against the top of your head. Your cheek pressed softly against his chest, and your arms wrapped gently around his neck as you stood on your tiptoes.
Then, out of nowhere, his arms loosened from around you. You pulled back slightly, confused, and looked up at him just as his expression shifted. His brows were furrowed, eyes dark. Before you could ask what was wrong, his hands came up again, gripping your arms as he leaned down toward you.
And then, he inhaled, once, and then again shortly after, much to your confusion. Quickly, his nose traced the top of your head, following along your collarbone, then your neck, his breathing deepening with each inhale, as if he were trying to pinpoint the scent of someone familiar.
With the realization hitting him, Neteyam froze. He pulled back suddenly, eyes locking on you, jaw clenched, ears pinned slightly back in tension.
“Why,” he asked slowly, voice tight with jealousy, trying to compose himself, “do you smell like Lo’ak?”
You blinked, completely thrown off. Your mind went blank, scrambling to make sense of his sudden behavior and question.
Then, it came to you: the hug from Lo’ak earlier, that playful, innocent prank he had suggested, was playing out right now. Your confusion disappeared at the realization, and before you could stop yourself, a laugh slipped out, small and incredulous, as you looked up at his furious face.
Neteyam’s jaw tightened further. “This is funny to you? His scent is dripping off of you,” he said, with an irritated scowl on his face.
You quickly blinked up at him, cheeks warming. “I didn’t even notice! He just hugged me,” you stammered, laughing nervously.
Before you could clarify that it was a prank, without warning, his hands began moving almost instinctively, gliding over your body, sliding along your back, tracing the curve of your sides, holding you close as though he would never let go. He leaned down, pressing his cheek against the soft skin where your neck met your shoulder, and slowly dragged it up to the side of your neck, lips brushing just beneath your ear. Soft, involuntary sighs escaped your lips in response to his intimate touch.
Although you enjoyed his sudden affection, it left you confused. You slightly tilted your head away, and he followed immediately, matching your movements, and keeping you pressed close.
“Neteyam?” you whispered, heart racing from the contact.
He didn’t look up. His voice was gruff, breath hot against your flushed skin. “Mine,” he murmured, lips brushing over the pulse at your neck before latching on, sucking gently for a moment before pulling away. “I don’t want you smelling like him. You’re mine. You should smell like me.”
At his words, a soft whimper slipped from your lips, your knees going weak as your body melted further into his roaming touch, responding to the possessive marks and the raw jealousy lacing his voice.
He stayed pressed against you for a minute longer, inhaling his scent radiating from your neck, before pulling back just enough to take in your flustered expression, with a small, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.
“Now,” he uttered, voice husky and low, “no one is coming near you, especially not my skxawng brother. And if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to skin him for touching my girl.”
Before you could protest, he strode off with purpose. You scrambled after him, calling out that it was just a prank, but it didn’t slow him down in the slightest. If anything, it only made him walk faster. Lo’ak really should’ve known better!
Summary: In which you and Neteyam are courting, but Tuk seems to take up more and more of your attention despite knowing that her brother was soon to be your mate.
a/n: I was inspired by someone on here, but I forgot their tag 😓
You and Neteyam have been stuck to each other for as long as you can remember. From the moment the two of you could crawl to meeting his youngest siblings to completing the Iknimaya together—everyone could see the pathway Eywa set for the both of you. So it was no surprise that Neteyam began to officially court you the second you both became of age.
Ever since then, you were even more inseparable. Well, maybe expect for your duties as tsakarem since it was clear that you would follow after his grandmother and mother. And whenever Tuk showed up, in a way you found rather cute, really.
As much as Neteyam loved you and you loved Neteyam, Tuk was a really close second to being your love. No matter what you were doing, if she could see you, she would immediately drop everything to be by your side and talk your ear off, typically earning a scolding from Neytiri.
To you, it was the most endearing thing ever. You were glad you were getting along with the youngest Sully, never having a little sister yourself. Most times, Tuk would refer to you as her best friend and bragged to everyone she could that she was your favorite—even when you and Neteyam were very clearly together.
Nevertheless, Neteyam—being the most patient Na’vi on Pandora—didn’t mind Tuk’s constant love for you most of the time . He knew how much his little sister admired you and everything you did, and who was he to tell her to back off and find a new friend?
Unfortunately, the other times where his patience wore thin were when his duties to train to be an Olo'eyktan with his father got to his head and all he wanted to do was be in your presence as it often calmed him—not you and his little sister.
It just so happened that today was one of those days.
Neteyam found you wandering the village with a woven basket to your hip, knowing your path was distinct in your head when your ears flickered in a specific pattern. He had just gotten back from a flight with his father and desperately wanted to see you, tail swishing behind him happily when you caught his gaze.
“Where are you off to?” He wrapped an arm around your waist loosely, kissing the side of your head while you grinned up at him with the smile that could melt him anytime.
“Teyam.” You say softly in recognition, letting yourself soften from his simple touch, your own tail swaying in giddiness. “I’m on my way to visit your family since I dropped some herbs off to your grandmother earlier, and I feel like I haven’t seen them in years.”
He scrunched his nose in amusement from your words and tilted his head, taking the basket gently to carry it for you. “You saw them this morning.”
“Same thing.” You wave him off with a flick of your hand and enter his home, smile widening when you see the youngest Sully daughter sitting with her sister that was attempting to teach her how to bead together a top—the older girl sighing when she saw you.
“Tuktuk!” You called out for the young girl, bending and holding your arms open for her to run into.
She called your name out in response, jumping into your arms as you caught her, spinning her around and around until she squealed for you to stop. You kiss her cheek and tuck her hair back, complimenting a new bead in her hair when you heard Neteyam clear his throat beside you—your eyes flickering to him in mild confusion.
“I don’t get that as much enthusiasm when you see me?” Neteyam frowned in a way you assumed was a teasing manner, making you pat his cheek.
“Hush.” You laugh softly before turning back to Tuk, her eyes shining with joy as she gained your attention once more, her tail whipping furiously behind her. “I missed you so so much, sweet girl!”
“I missed you too!” She giggled and looked away for a second, contemplating her next few words while you acknowledged the rest of her siblings.
Lo’ak rolled his at Tuk, giving you a faint smile but immediately began to complain about what his sister was going on and on about the entire day. “She kept whining about when we would see you again. She was all like, “When’s she coming over again?” “Can we visit grandma so we can see her?” and “Tell Neteyam to mate with her faster.””
The last comment made you and Neteyam burn bright purple, the words completely lost on Tuk but oh-so amusing to Kiri and Lo’ak when they heard their youngest sibling repeat the phrase several times. It got so bad that they physically had to cover her mouth when their mother did a quick check on them.
You were about to say something—asking the two of them why they hadn’t asked her to stop repeating the words—when Tuk tugged on your arm, finding the next big thing to bother you about while you were still here.
“Come! I have something to show you!” She dragged you out of the Sully home, away for her sibling’s sights.
Kiri watched in amusement as the flaps to the place flew, a teasing smile on her lips as she dropped her head in Neteyam’s direction. “She’s going to take her from you.”
Neteyam stared at the spot where you stood for a second, shaking his head and smiling weakly toward Kiri. He wasn’t too bothered by Tuk today… right?
“I’m just glad that they’re getting along.” He said almost flatly, causing Kiri to raise a brow at him.
Lo’ak snickered while he dodged a swipe from his brother, earning an eye roll from him as he reminded them of Tuk’s past shenanigans. “Remember there was entire week where Tuk wouldn’t let her go anywhere without her? She’s so protective of her.”
“I wonder why.” Kiri drawled in his direction, yelping when Lo’ak tugged at her tail. She furiously pushed his chest, making Neteyam sigh and pull them apart from each other as Kiri yelled at Lo’ak who was still making faces toward her. “Skxawng!”
Just then, the flap to their home opened, their mother entering with a sharp gaze because of the loud sounds she heard on her way over—the three of them looking at each other knowing they were caught. Well, mainly Lo’ak and Kiri.
“Enough.” Neytiri put a hand up and looked around the place, her ears tucking back when she couldn’t find her youngest daughter. “Where is Tuk?”
None of them spoke for a second, simply watching their mother clean the place up with a grace none of them could master just yet. It’s not like they how to pick up wooden toys and toss them into a basket while still looking like a woodsprite.
Neteyam was the first to speak, tilting his head with a fond look in his eyes as he revealed to her that Tuk was with you, his younger siblings looking at each other at their brother’s lovesick look.
Neytiri hummed, grabbing the basket you brought earlier and picking it up. She took the fine beads that were carefully wrapped on the inside before looking up at her eldest, a soft smile gracing her lips.
“Speaking of your future mate, she has Tsahìk training with your grandmother and I tomorrow morning.” She revealed, cupping his cheek and pinching it. “So no staying out late tonight with her. We need her up bright and early.”
Gagging and laughing could be heard from where Lo’ak and Kiri stood, their noises making their brother’s face flush, warmth flooding his face with embarrassment at his mother’s words. He couldn’t tell if that was what his mother was exactly insinuating, but it certainly what his siblings were.
“Mother.” Neteyam cleared his throat, pushing Neytiri’s hand away from him.
She clicked her tongue in his direction, shaking her head and giving him a look that told him that her and Jake were once like him and you long ago. “Are you not courting her?”
Neteyam feigned annoyance, eyes darting away from her knowing gaze as he spoke only to be cut off by the sibling who loved you just as much as he did.
“I am, but—“
“Mama!” Tuk shouts and jumps out of your arms, running up to her mother and hugging her tightly while you stumble slightly at the sudden movement.
Luckily, Neteyam caught you within seconds, his tail wrapping around your waist in protectiveness. You smiled softly before taking a step closer to him, your hand brushing with his before you laced them together, making him lift your joined hands and kissing your knuckles.
Lo’ak whistles at the action as he walked out of the home, earning an eye roll from Kiri. She simply sat back down on the woven mat and continued to bead together a top, still listening intently to the conversation without fail.
“What did I miss?” You ask with a smile, ears perked up and tail swishing behind you before it instinctively curled around Neteyam’s thigh, causing the boy’s cheeks to flush a darker purple than it already was.
“Nothing worth listening to.” Neteyam murmured against your hair, pressing another kiss to your temple before his voice dropped even lower to the point where only you could hear him. “Are we still going to the river tonight, yawntu?”
This time, your own cheeks flush a deep purple to match his, the end of your tail thumping on his thigh in an exultant manner. “Who would I be if I ever said no?”
“C’mon, let’s go! She’s probably waiting for us already!” Tuk dragged Neteyam by the arm as they walk through Pandora’s vast forest, her small legs doing her best to run while Neteyam did his best to hold onto her tightly, praying to Eywa that she wouldn’t trip or fall.
Lo’ak pulled a face and rolled his eyes at his younger sister, nudging Spider in amusement while Kiri gave him an unimpressed look. “Tuk, slow down. We won’t get there any faster if you twist your ankle and complain about the trip to the river.”
Now, Neteyam had no idea how Tuk found out that he was going to meet up with you at the river that evening. All Neteyam knew was that she threatened to tell their parents if he didn’t let her go with him to see you—but that didn’t include telling his siblings and apparently Spider. So the next thing he knew was that he was taking four others to your spot, each step diminishing his eagerness to see you.
Tuk stuck her tongue out at Lo’ak, only earning one from him as well before she saw you standing at the clearing by the river, her tail swishing energetically behind her in excitement. Tuk called out your name and your ears perked up at the voice in surprise as you thought you were only supposed to see Neteyam.
Turning around, your golden eyes found the Sully family—including Spider—approach where you stood, the youngest climbing over a large log hastily to get to you somewhat faster.
When they got close enough, you opened your arms for a hug that Neteyam thought was his, his own arms raised before you bent over and gathered Tuk in your arms. Neteyam froze with his arms still up, stunned ever so slightly before glaring at the three behind him who were stifling their laughter.
“Tuktuk!” You smothered her face in kisses—the ones Neteyam should’ve received. You admire her softly, knowing you saw her earlier during dinner but nonetheless offered her your compliments. “You look so pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you!” She giggled and held onto your neck tightly as you swayed back and forth, her eyes catching the new beaded top you wore. “You weren’t wearing that earlier.”
Your cheeks warm at her observation, your tail flicking behind you slightly before you shake your head knowing the top was supposed to be for Neteyam but she didn’t need to know that.
“I just wanted to try it on for once. Does it look good, Tuktuk?”
“So good!” She giggled again and began to ask millions of questions about the beads, the river, the different glowing plants—anything she could that would retain your attention for as long as she could have it.
Lo’ak punched his brother’s shoulder, now laughing quite loudly in Neteyam’s opinion. “Bro, you wish that was you.”
And before Neteyam could say something back, Kiri let her heart get the better of her, saving her older brother from getting ruthlessly poked and prodded by her other brother. And, unfortunately, saving Lo’ak from an earful—which she didn’t really care for.
“Tuk, come here. Let’s get you adjusted to the water so you can swim.” Kiri called Tuk over with a small smile in your direction, making the youngest Sully dramatically sigh and reluctantly leave your arms with an exaggerated pout.
You watched her to ensure she was safe in her sister’s arms before turning to Neteyam whose ears were flat with his tail swishing vigorously back and forth. You walked over to him and lead him away from the rest of the group, your eyes scanning his figure.
“What’s wrong, Teyam—?”
“You love Tuk more than me.” Neteyam interrupted, his tail now moving more fiercely as his gaze met yours. His golden eyes flickered with an emotion you thought was impossible for him to ever feel, amusement running through your veins.
“That’s not true.” You laugh with a shake of your head, cupping his cheeks gently as you spoke and thumbing the patterns decorating his face. “I love you and Tuk differently.”
Neteyam softens under your touch but still mutters in complaint about the attention you give his much younger sister, a pout settling on his lips that reminded you of said little sister. “But you just have to greet her first?”
“She’s my little baby!” You scoff with a teasing smile as he finally wraps his arms around your waist, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re jealous, Neteyam. Of your own sister.”
“No.” He meets your eyes carefully before deciding to bury his head in your neck, mumbling against your skin in embarrassment. “No.”
“Mhm.” You grin and rub his back gently, ears perking up when you could hear his siblings shouting at each other before shaking your head, focusing your attention back to the Na’vi you loved with all your heart. “You shouldn’t lie to the person you’re courting, Teyam.”
“I hate you.” He groans and holds you flush against him, your tail wrapping around his leg naturally from the familiar position while his own tail found its home around your waist once more.
“No you don’t.” You laugh again and lightly pull him up from his spot in your neck, your golden eyes catching his—your eyes reflecting his beautiful face. “I see you, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. And I know I could never find anyone else like you.”
Neteyam looks between your eyes, his own eyes shimmering before he pressed his forehead against yours, meeting your lips with tenderness. “I see you too, yawntu.” He pressed another kiss to your lips before pulling away, forehead still against yours. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” You murmur, thumbing his bottom lip with a small smile. You peck his lips once more, gaze catching his. “It’s okay.”
“We’re not going to be able to sneak away, are we?” He mumbled as you begin to kiss every inch of his face, his hand finding the curve of your back.
You hum against his lips, pulling back ever so slightly to meet his blown eyes. “Not unless you want to lie.”
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 Neteyam and you had grown up togther, played and trained like dangerous thanator cubs until his iknimaya came and he suddenly began to believe himself better than you. So why, now that it is mating season, does he suddenly take an interest in you again?
ᶜʷ cannon divergence, aggressive(?)reader, smal misunderstandings, sexual comment made towards reader, angst?(happy ending)
ʷᶜ 13.7k
You remember the days when you were little, as if they were yesterday.
You remember when you first began to acknowledge Neteyam's presence. His face started to form features, instead of just being glossed over. His body began to take a shape, instead of being a blue blob in your periphery. The high pitched gurgles and giggles that he let out now reached deeper parts of your brain, and hearing them made you release your own in turn.
You remember when the two of you began to explore the forest. Learning of Eywa's beauties and strengths. Deciding upon your favorite creatures and flowers. Becoming unafraid of the ambiance that it held, and learning awareness of what sounds led to danger and what was alright to stay around.
You remember when your fathers began teaching you the ways of the warriors. Teaching you how to track, to nock an arrow, to achieve a clean kill, and to sharpen your knives. The two of you were always sparring partners in these early days – you learned the traditional ways of battle, before adding your own flares to it.
But then Neteyam completed his iknimaya.
He was the youngest of the Omatikaya to ever do it. His fathers expectations of him pressing him to become better, to be the best he can be, to be the symbol of the strength of the people.
When he had told you that he was going to attempt his iknimaya, you were surprised. It was not that you believed he couldn't complete it, but he was so young, had so much time left in his life and there was no need to rush things.
Nonetheless, you were excited. Over the moon for your best friend. Before he ventured out you had crushed him in your arms, pressing a swift kiss on his cheek to wish him good luck.
You weren’t surprised to see him arrive home unscathed. The celebration that night was loud, the clan's excitement at an all time high for the Olo’eyktans son. It was then that the young hunters approached Neteyam.
They were a few years older than the two of you – slightly jealous at the fact that Neteyam had accomplished so much when he was so young. But instead of teasing him, pushing him, even bullying him into submission, they took to praising him.
There was no doubt that Neteyam would become Olo’eyktan. No doubt that he would lead the people when his time had come. So it was best to start making friendships now, to start fostering their relationships and secure their future positions in the clan while Neteyam was still young.
You and him had been dancing when they approached. Moving your bodies to the beats of the drums, laughing freely, simply basking in the celebration. But then Teylun taps on Neteyam's shoulder, dragging his attention away from you.
Over the music you can faintly hear something about ‘join us,’ and ‘welcome you,’. You miss most of what Teylun says, but from what you did catch it seems as if he and his friends want to congratulate Neteyam personally.
The two of you were attached at the hip, everyone in the clan knew you both were inseparable. So when Teylun begins to lead Neteyam away you move to follow. But for the first time, possibly ever, you aren’t allowed to go.
Teylun pushes Neteyam’s shoulder blade urging him forward, before turning back to face you. “I’m sorry ‘eveng, we will be discussing warrior things. It is best if you stay back, converse with people your own speed.”
He is calling you a child? Just because you didn’t want to rush your iknimaya, did not mean that you were a weak child. That you couldn’t complete it if you really wanted to. Before you get the chance to retaliate, to say your piece, Teylun has already guided Neteyam the rest of the way to where his friends reside.
You wouldn’t disrupt. It was Neteyam’s night, his celebration, and he could be in whoever's company he wished. You would see him in the morning anyway, then you could tell him how rude Teylun was to you.
When morning arrives you begin your way towards the Sully kelku. Normally Neteyam would meet you halfway, then the two of you would head towards the training grounds or the forest together. He didn’t today though, maybe he was just tired. So you keep moving, you could just meet him at his home.
Maybe you could even steal some fruit or meat under the guise that your parents hadn’t fed you. Yes, that would be nice. A second breakfast to set you up for the perfect day. As you poke your head into their kelku, you don’t see Neteyam.
It still doesn’t phase you. Pushing past the hides that cover the entry way you make your way towards where Neytiri and Lo’ak sit. “Good morning auntie, Lo’ak.”
The human word felt odd coming from your throat, but Jake had taught it to you when you were young. He said that the word meant close, almost motherly figure; and Neytiri was always like that to you.
Lo’ak stands, crashing into your chest with a tight hug. He acts as if he had not seen you just yesterday, had not danced with you after Neteyam left with Teylun.
“Would you like something to eat, child?”
When you nod, Neytiri hands you a leaf holding fresh fruits and roots. The perfect way to start your day. You begin picking at the meal with your fingers, picking the best pieces for yourself, and giving the slightly less best pieces to Lo’ak.
After swallowing a few bites you begin to look around. Where is Neteyam? He is usually an early riser, and you had expected him to be up by now even with the late night he had.
As if sensing your curiosity Lo'ak speaks. “Big bro left.”
He doesn't acknowledge the look on your face, doesn't even look up from where he's deciding what piece of fruit he wants from your leaf. You only come out of your stupor when he points at a particularly juicy piece of fruit and asks if he can have it.
“Where did he go?” You hand Lo'ak the fruit, leaning your head against his as you ask.
You can feel him shrug, feel his jaw work as he chews before he responds. “Dunno, I think he said something about going with Teylun.”
Neytiri snaps at Lo'ak, telling him to mind his grammar. She didn’t like how much English he included in his daily life, much less when he began creating Na'vi slang that matched with words his father had used when he was a human.
You tune her out. Instead focusing on how Neteyam is off with Teylun again. You could understand last night, it was important to show camaraderie. That must be what this is.
Allowing Neteyam to follow along with their hunt, or training, or whatever it was that they were getting up to. Allowing him to establish himself with the others who have completed their iknimayas.
So you thank Neytiri for the food, ruffle Lo'ak's braids, and head out to train yourself. You don’t manage to catch a glimpse of Neteyam for the rest of the day. It’s odd, and it places what feels to be a rock in the center of your chest. But you knew you would see him tomorrow. These new friends would ebb and fade, and even if they didn’t Neteyam wouldn’t abandon you for no reason.
The next day as you approach the Sully kelku, there is distinct chatter. You can hear Teylun’s voice, is he ever going to leave Neteyam alone? Then Li’ral’s voice filters in too. Neteyam’s voice is the first clear thing that you can hear.
“Are you sure that I cannot join you later? I have not seen ma txeylan in nearly two days.”
Teylun laughs. You assume it is because he sees you as a child. Li’ral pitches in, confirming your thoughts, “The girl who has been attached to your side since the two of you were toddlers?”
“Yes, that is her.”
“She is a ‘eveng. You are a warrior now.”
Neteyam sighs, “She is not a ‘eveng. Just because she did not complete her iknimaya yet doesn’t mean-”
“But has she not trained as long as you?”
“She has. What does that have to do with her being a child?”
Thank Eywa he was standing up for you. You knew you could trust him.
“It means she should have trusted herself, her training and attempted her iknimaya as well. It is childish fear that held her back.”
Most Omatikaya didn't complete their iknimayas until they were a minimum of fifteen years of age anyway. You were not behind, Neteyam was just leagues ahead of everyone.
You think Neteyam would retort again. Come to your defense as he always had – but instead you can hear the familiar patter of footsteps. A faint conversation discussing the best way to roast a yerik, wafts over to your ears before you lose the ability to hear them.
Maybe he had defended you again when you were out of earshot. There was no way he allowed the conversation to change so easily, still wanting to defend the person he spent so many years beside.
The opportunity to confront him never comes. To ask for some comfort about the situation, for him to quell your fears that he truly did see you as a child.
Just a short week after his iknimaya, Neteyam was to complete his dream hunt. You would not let him evade you before this event. The possibility of him dying was too great to not at least wish him luck.
Not because he needed it, you knew how strong and determined he was. But because you wanted to show that you still cared, still considered him your best friend even with the distance of the past week.
When you approach the small group he's settled in, they go silent. Their eyes flit from Neteyam to you hastily.
“Ma txeylan, do you have a moment?” You keep your voice light, trying to block the nervousness from seeping into your tone.
Neteyam's ear flicks. The young hunters he's began to associate himself with eye him, smirks and grimaces adorning their features. His beads clink as he allows his head to nod slightly, “Of course.”
He lets you drag him a few feet away from the group. Positions himself with a view of the group he was sitting with over your shoulder.
“I've missed you.” A polite smile graces your features as you speak.
Once again he only nods to show any sign that he has heard you. But you don't let him get away with it; instead taking to staring into his eyes with your bright ones. So he grants you a small, noncommittal sound from the back of his throat.
When you realize that you won't be getting a vocal response you continue, “I just wanted to wish you well. To tell you I am hoping for good luck on your dream hunt.”
“Why?”
Your eyebrows raise in surprise at his odd question, then they furrow, “What do you mean why?”
Neteyam’s eyes flick over your shoulder, making contact with the new friends he’s solidified himself with. Then he breathes a deep, annoyed breath, “Why do you feel the need to wish me luck. I am not a ‘eveng, like you,” For the first time in days his eyes meet yours, “I can handle myself.”
Oh. So that’s how it was going to be. You stuck with him for years, and now he wants to cast you aside because he has some new and shiny friends.
How unfair.
Laughter bubbles up behind you. When you look up you can see Neteyam’s lips quirk into a smile at the sound, can see the way his chest puffs slightly in pride. You don’t need to look at the group to know they were staring at you, that their amusement was due to your embarrassment.
The sound burns into your memory. Sears painfully into the deepest parts of your brain. It must have changed the chemistry in your brain with the way that it now triggers your fight or flight response.
That same laugh drags your attention from your friends. It brings a twinge to your chest – one that quickly places a scowl on your face. It’s bringing the urge to fight. To cross the cookfire and pour a full waterskin over Li’rals’s head. To shove Teylun over the log he’s sitting on and cave his nose into his face. To grasp Neteyam’s tail and attempt to dislodge it from where it rested on his spine.
But you take a deep, steadying breath. Take a loving glance at the friends you’ve surrounded yourself with; the ones who adopted you after Neteyam abandoned you. And you decided to take it out on him tomorrow during training, there no one could judge you for seeming bloodthirsty.
The adults of the clan haven’t seemed to get the memo that you and Neteyam are not friends.
Well, more that you cannot stand him. Anytime he speaks, you grunt to reply. When he looks in your direction, you make sure to avoid your eyes. If he approaches your friends to discuss what they’re weaving or how the hunt went, you make it a point to act as if he does not exist.
When you’re in the same hunting party, not much is achieved. Formations are broken, twigs are snapped, prey is lost. No one can decide who to blame; Neteyam for putting you in the most useless part of the formation, or you for storming off and hunting by yourself.
And sparring together always leads to more scrapes and bruises than when you spar for anyone else. So you’d think that Jake and your father would avoid placing you two together. That they’d want two of the clan's best warriors to stay in formidable shape.
Their wiseness should have been able to influence their decision. To prevent them from ever even thinking that the two of you could be applicable partners. That you could ever go back to how it was.
Instead, at least once a month, the two of you end up partners.
Unfortunately it is the most entertaining part of the session. Watching the two of you be forced into the circle; him smiling as he scratches the back of his neck, you huffing before shoving yourself off the tree you were leaning against. They’d watch in anticipation as Neteyam watched you, assessing your stance, trying to make eye contact.
Then their eyes would flick to you. Watching how you’d toe at the ground, roll your knuckles till they crack, bite your lip as you stare at your father like he personally offended you. It was obvious that you were wound up, like a cord ready to snap.
You’d wait until the last moment, until your father or his would call for the start of the spar, to even glance in his direction. Rarely looking at his eyes, instead learning the movements of his muscles so you could determine his movements from that. Anything so that you wouldn’t have to look at his stupid face.
At the beginning of the spar, everything would be cordial. Proper stances, dancing around each other before taking light jabs, ducking and dodging until you were inevitably told to ‘push your opponent!’. It was then that Neteyam would start lunging a bit more seriously, reaching his hands out to grab at your thigh or push your shoulder; something to tip your center of gravity, allowing him to pin you down.
You’d retaliate with shoves of your own, letting your nails scrape a lot more than necessary. It was low, a bit dirtier than should be allowed in spars, but it wasn’t explicitly against the rules. Plus, who's to say the scrapes didn’t come after the two of you had started rolling around?
It didn’t matter how it happened. Didn’t matter who shoved who, who’s hips pinned the others down, who celebrated their victory a bit too early; the two of you would always end up tousling on the ground.
Provoked, enraged, by the others misplaced confidence, whoever was pinned would buck and thrash until they had regained a bit of control. Then the two of you would be wrestling, throwing insults back and forth among the punches, grabbing braids, tugging tails, hell you’d even taken to some below the belt kicks a few times.
With how last night had gone, today was shaping up to be one of the worse spars the two of you have had. Neteyam had pinned you, somehow still in top shape after all the rumaut wine he had had yesterday. It would be fine, everything would be okay, but then Li’ral had to open his big fat mouth.
It wasn’t loud, not wanting the elders, especially the Olo’eyktan, to hear him. But it was loud enough to drift over the edge of the circle to where you laid beneath Neteyam. You heard his voice float over you as your ears were just recovering from their ringing, ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if he mounted her like that again after eclipse one of these nights.’ Just who, on Eywa’s green planet, did he think he was talking about?
And if that wasn’t insulting enough, you could hear the faint laughter follow from Neteyam’s friends. On a better day, you’d take your eyes off Neteyam, angle your head back so you could tilt the yellow orbs to assess who specifically was laughing. You’d catalog them into your brain, prepare to treat them a little harsher the next time you sparred. But today was not a better day, and it was just in Neteyam’s luck that he also heard the joke, and was allowing himself a few huffs of laughter from where he rested above you.
Your vision fades black at the edges, sole focus being on the boy atop you. With sudden, aggressive thrusts, you launch him from the seat he was claiming. He falls, landing on his back with a rough exhale. While he’s disoriented, you rotate off your back and hastily crawl towards him.
Before you can settle yourself into a position that allows you to hold Neteyam down, you swing. Your fist collides with his cheek, the force splitting his lip and sending you falling over until you’re laid out on top of him. From there you swing your leg over his torso, taking a firm seat before you continue your onslaught.
Surely, this had led to another joke to bubble from his friends. Something about how eager you were to mount him. You couldn’t hear it though, too busy thrusting your fist towards Neteyam’s face. Too busy ripping his arms away from where they came up to block your assault. Too busy pulling at those damn braids that he loved to swing around.
At some point Neteyam had tried to push back. Thrusted his hips up hoping to displace you, but you were too far up on his chest for it to do anything. Tried to grab your arms when you swung, yet you managed to dislodge them. Attempted to even roll his body under yours, to lay on his stomach and get some leverage to stand and force you off. But nothing worked, something had snapped in you – something that gave you insane strength that you were using to the fullest.
The rage you had felt forcing your blood to boil, for it to rush so fast through your veins that you were rendered unable to hear anything else. You couldn’t hear the gasps. Couldn’t hear the concerned murmurs. Couldn’t hear Neteyam saying he yielded. Couldn’t hear the Olo’eyktan telling you to get off of his son, nor your father reprimanding your sudden rampage.
Suddenly – well suddenly, for you, – you’re hoisted off of Neteyam. As you raise into the air you get a perfect view of him. Laid out on the dirt, chest rising in heavy breaths, lip busted and bleeding down the side of his face, cheek already gaining an indigo tint, braids misplaced from the wrap he had them in; it brings a maniacal grin to your face.
Yeah, his friends and him could make fun of you all they wanted. But at the end of the day, you’d be the one laughing. That was one thing you’d made sure of ever since that night so many moon rotations ago – they’d never be able to call you a child again.
Slowly a voice fades into your head. Vowels and consonants forming into syllables that you can finally piece together into words. It’s your fathers voice, he’s whispering a scolding, ‘I cannot believe you did that’, ‘ma’ite, I know he aggravates you, but he is still the Olo’eyktan’s son’, ‘How will it look to the elders’, ‘You’ll scare off potential mates if you keep up with this,’. You weren’t embarrassed at your actions, but being hauled away while everyone knew you were getting scolded brought a slight flush to your cheeks.
You’re sure to be scolded more intently when safely tucked into your kelku. Sure that your mother will force you to spend more time with the weavers and the gathers, saying that it’ll soften your demeanor. Sure that your father will remind you of how he fought with Jake Sully and Neytiri, how their union was strong and Neteyam and yours should be similar especially with your mature ages.
So when the conversation happens you let it. Nodding dutifully as they chatter; agree to chaperone the gathers as they forage, agree to weave with the elders so you can soak up their wisdom, even agree to stay in formation next time you go for a hunt.
It’s only when they mention apologizing, that you deny. A grimace overtakes your features, brows creasing as you speak, “I will not do such a thing. I cannot do such a thing.”
“You will. We must be united as a clan,” Your father speaks, tone harsh, “Today you showed everything but unity. You showed the fierceness of the clan, and our unwavering determination. So you must tie the whole thing together with our camaraderie, this can only be completed with an apology.”
You frown, ready to plead, to beg for any other punishment, “Father please. I cannot do it.”
“You must.” He frowns back, not wanting to debate the matter any longer.
“If you were to have heard what his friends were saying about me, then you would understand!”
“It does not matter. We must take the high route.”
You stand, slightly moving towards the entrance flap of the kelku, “It was disgusting, bordering vile, father! And he – Neteyam, he was laughing right along with them!”
“What did they say?”
Fantastic.
You weren’t going to repeat their words. It would only make the situation worse. Your father wouldn’t stand for it, ready to defend your honor even if it put your family at risk of shame.
“Can I not just avoid him? You and the Olo’eyktan do not have to place us to spar any more, and we can coexist just fine as long as we aren’t forced to interact.”
It must have gotten to him. Your father seems to be pondering the idea. It’d be much simpler that way, changing schedules and ensuring that the two of you don’t spar together would prevent most of their issues. But it would also mean that two of their best warriors wouldn’t have their best competition, and it would risk their skills dulling.
A small grin graces your face. You could do this, could avoid Neteyam and his group of friends for the rest of your parents' days. And you’d never have to apologize for something you weren’t sorry for. But then your mother speaks, “You must apologize.”
“Mother! I cann-”
“You must! I will not have the elders shame our family at the weaving circle, will not have others whisper our names with disgrace on their tongues. Please daughter, swallow your pride this time, after you may avoid him, yes?”
Your head falls. Sure you may not have minded what the elders had to say, didn’t mind when people spoke ill of you; but that was because you knew they didn’t know the full story. That they would probably have your side if you had voiced your side too.
So instead of rebuking again, you allow your head to nod. A soft hum of agreement leaves your throat before you depart through the flaps of the kelku. You storm through the clan, rushing to the ikran rookery; a nice flight to clear your head before your inevitable apology.
It’s a calming mechanism you’ve used since you passed your iknimaya. The clear air and loads of open space allow you to think through all your problems easily. Small tricks and flips bring you confidence. Your skills in the air remind you of your skills on the ground; and a smile is brought to your face as you remember Neteyam flat on his back earlier today.
You fly for hours, watch the sun reach eclipse atop your ikran. Observe as the bioluminescent glow overtakes the forest. Eventually, your racing heart slows, and your breaths come more regularly, and it’s then that you decide you can apologize.
The Sully kelku has its entrance flaps open when you arrive, typical as the Olo’eyktan is expected to be available until the last clan member goes to sleep. You don’t walk straight in however, instead sing-songing a soft “Kaltxì.”
It is Lo’ak who comes to the entrance, “Oh shit.” He laughs out your name, “Dude, the way you beat Neteyam’s ass today was crazy!”
“Yes,” a tight lipped smile adornes your features, “I am here to apologize. Is Neteyam around?”
Lo’ak gazes at you curiously, even though you put distance between you when you stopped talking with Neteyam, he had never let you fully seal the door. Normally when he’d praise your skills, you’d at least laugh a bit with him. Nonetheless, he nods, “Yeah. Yeah he’s on the sleeping mats.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to where you could find him.
“Where is everyone else?”
“Mom and dad are out, and Kiri and Tuk are weaving.”
Good. This was good. You didn’t want to have anyone in the family hearing the conversation, but you also didn’t want to have it outside where anyone could hear. “Can you just come back in a little bit Lo? I must apologize to your brother in private.”
“In private?” Lo’ak’s eyebrows waggle, “Aloneee?”
You shove past him before turning and lightly pushing his shoulder to urge him into taking a few steps out the kelku. “It is not like that and you know it.”
As you move deeper into the home, you call out to Neteyam a few times. Eywa forbid he was improper when you finally saw him. When you finally hear his voice ring back, you allow yourself to duck into the area that held their sleeping mats.
Letting your eyes rove over him you can see the damage you did. You look at the way he winces upon sitting up, how his lip is still swollen, the indigo finally setting on his cheek, even the faint scratches that rest upon his pectoral muscles. He looked bad, it takes everything in you to not allow a smile to grace your features.
You allow yourself to kneel, not wanting to seem higher or more important by towering over him.
“I am here to apologize. My earlier actions are inexcusable and I hope you can forgive me.”
Neteyam nods a bit. Lets your words linger in the air before he responds, “It is fine. We all get overcome by our emotions sometimes.”
“It is not fine.” Your head shakes, beads clinking to accentuate your point, “Please accept my apology, do not brush it off.”
“Okay.” His tongue darts out over his lips, bringing the bottom one between his teeth before he hisses from how tender it is, “I accept your apology.”
Good. He will no doubt tell his parents about your change of heart, and it will spread from there. Your family will be cleared from any possible shame and you can go on with your lives. As you move to get up Neteyam’s hand wraps around your wrist.
Your eyes flick over to his, “What is it?”
“I’ve just been thinking. I miss you, we used to be so close, you know?” His hand falls, but his eyes keep peering into yours, “What happened to us?”
“What do you mean, ‘what happened to us,’?” You scoff, all semblance of being friendly disappearing, “Trust me when I say this. You are not important to me. You may have been, but you never will be again.”
Fast, jerky movements lead you out of the Sully kelku. How dare he say something so preposterous? How dare he act as if he’s not the reason the two of you are here?
Unbelievable.
At least you wouldn’t have to interact with him again. Thank Eywa.
Neteyam did not know what had gotten into you today.
Last night you had seemed pleased, happy to drink rumaut wine with your friends as the cookfire reduced to embers. He’d been watching you, allowing his eyes to roam over the people, but lingering on you for a bit longer than everyone else.
This morning however something was off. You were on edge, nearly strung your bow too tight before archery practice. When the time for sparring finally rolled around, instead of meandering near the edge, you were bouncing on the balls of your feet – like a thanator ready to pounce.
It was his luck that the two of you were paired together today.
The dance you’d fall into was familiar, he was prepared for it. Ready to dance around and trade dominance until one of you became too tired to continue. But today, you’re hyper-aggressive; your moves are harsher, punches are harder, jabs are faster.
He hisses the first time your nails make contact with his chest; it’s almost as if they’ve been sharpened, prepped to cut just for this. The sting urges him to take you down, to put some real use to his larger muscles thanks to his father's avatar DNA.
He ducks down, using his right hand to grab at your left thigh. His hand slides down the smooth skin until he can grab at the flexion of your knee. Then he tugs it towards himself, tilting you backwards.
Instead of letting you fall alone, he follows. Neteyam lets his left hand move to the back of your head, preventing it from hitting the ground too roughly. But once you’re settled on the ground, he clambers over you, settling most of his weight on your hips.
At first you try to hit him, fruitlessly using your arms to displace him. It doesn’t work, but it does get annoying. Neteyam moves to pin your arms, now he can secure his win without any other lesions to his body.
He smiles, huffing a little laugh at how angered you are today. He wants to ask what was up with you, wants to ask what crawled up your tewng today. But then something happens – something otherworldly takes over you.
Unnaturally bucking overtakes your hips, your whole body is being used. Shoulders pressing into the ground beneath you, legs bent at the knee to grant extra force, even your arms slide across the ground to displace his grip.
The shock overtakes him, forcing him off your body. His back roughly hits the ground, and the breath is knocked from his lungs. And before he can even acknowledge that he’s off from where he once sat victoriously on you, you’ve launched a punch into his cheek.
From there it’s only downhill. You’ve taken a seat upon him and begin laying into his face, his chest, his arms, really anything you can.
Neteyam tries to fight it at first. Tries to defend his face, to force you off of him, to flip the two of you over, but nothing works. He tries to ensure your win, to yield, but his voice goes uncared for or unheard.
It’s only when your father hauls you off of him that he gets some room to breathe. The break allows the ache to set in his jaw, and his cheek, and his lip, and his scalp. Eywa, did he hope that his grandmother would use the yalna bark salve today.
His father hauls him up from the ground. Gives him a once over as he questions, “You good boy?”
Neteyam nods, braids falling over his face when he doesn’t move to raise his head again.
“Good. Go get patched up.”
With a pat and light shove to his shoulder, Neteyam is off. When he arrives to the Tsahik’s tent, he’s pleasantly surprised to see that it’s only his mother and grandmother inside.
He can hear them chattering about something. The words ‘of age,’ and ‘best time to train a tsakarem,’ float to his perked up ears before he realizes they’re speaking about him.
So he delays making his appearance known for a little longer, taking post behind the tent where the hides are thin. Their words come softly muffled through the hide, his grandmother’s voice ringing through first, “Many will seek him out during the upcoming mating season.”
“Yes,” His mother hums, “I can only imagine how many gifts will swarm our kelku.”
The two of them chuckle and it brings a smile to Neteyam’s face. But then he remembers how soon the season is, just a few short weeks away. Sure his siblings had teased him plenty about how many girls would throw themselves at him – but that was useless teasing, this was his mother and grandmother. If they’re speculating it must be serious.
“It will all be for naught if he does not reciprocate. Has Neteyam spoken of anyone who has piqued his interest?”
“No, he has not. There are many near his age this season though.”
His mother was right, there were many who’d be his age this mating season. Even though Neteyam could think of the prospects himself, his mother and grandmother began to list off the girls that would be participating this season, allowing him to mull over their attributes himself.
“Pxule…” She is one of the singers. Soft spoken until she needs to voice the hymns of the ancestors and she finally allows her voice to raise. A kind girl, but not one he could see himself being mated to for eternity.
“To’lei…” A gatherer. Her nimble fingers always grant her perfect harvests. It would seem as if Eywa herself loves when To’lei heads into her forest, always granting her the best materials from whatever area she’s decided to forage in. Her skills would eternally be useful to the clan, but she engages in constant babbling as she gathers, rarely taking moments to embrace the natural noises of the flora and fauna.
“Mekani…” One of the hunters. She was able to flawlessly lead a hunt among the younger bunch; her stern tone leaving no room for discussion or pushback. Her shoulders were never bare when she arrived back at hometree, making sure to share the burden of such a success with her fellow hunters. A formidable mate, someone who knew how to lead and the importance of being strict, but she never seemed to let up, never showed a softer side that would be important for raising children.
Maybe Neteyam would need to take some time to sit and think when he got home. All of the options that were being listed were good options; just not for him. He needed someone who matched him, someone who questioned when he was making a bad decision, someone who could be soft when he didn’t know how to be.
If he could take a trait from each of the girls listed and place them into a mold, he’d end up with the perfect mate. The one who would make him confident when he took the role of Olo’eyktan over. But that wasn’t possible, he couldn’t force any one of them to fit whatever mold he’d created in his head. Just as he’s about to push out of his kneel and approach the entrance of the tent his mothers voice cuts in again.
She spoke your name, “For a time, when they were little, I believed that they would end up together.”
“Hm. Why is that?”
“They were always together. You cannot be that close for so long and never grow any feelings – it is how I came to see Jake in another light.”
Neteyam hadn’t even considered the fact that you would be participating this year. Sure you were the same age, and had long since passed your iknimaya. However the thought of you getting dressed up in brightly colored loincloths and chest coverings just to dance around the cookfire with potential mates made him sick.
His brain ran through the list of men who’d be eligible this year. Sure there were plenty of options, but none of them would be good enough. Korvyn was too timid. Sa’nel was too immature. Rikutu had many adventures with girls already.
The thought of you ending up with a courting gift adorning your body by the end of the season soured his mood.
He knew it was wrong – to be this protective over you, even though he hadn’t spoken properly to you in years. But that wasn’t his fault! He had tried; joined your friends as they weaved, taken the position of lead in your hunting parties, and he’d made sure to never take it easy on you during spars not wanting to undermine all the training he knew you did.
You were the one that refused to speak to him after he came into his own.
After his dream hunt, he’d begun getting more responsibilities. It was around that time that you stopped talking to him. When he called across a clearing, your head would turn in the opposite direction. He’d sneak up on you and Lo’ak as you helped him with his aim, only revealing himself to give some advice of his own, but instead of sticking around you’d mention that he could take over before leaving.
No matter what, it was a deflection, and it was you who influenced the distance. Not him. So why does it matter if you’ll probably be ending the mating season with a serious prospect courting you. Who cares that in the next few months you’ll mate before Eywa with some skxawng. It makes no difference that sometime in the near future there might be a child running around hometree with your eyes, your mates nose, and tiny loincloths weaved by your own fingers.
The thoughts wound Neteyam up tightly. As if he was twine woven around a tree to stabilize a kelku. It made his treatment rougher than necessary; his grandmother moving to massage the tensed muscles more than needed.
Even though his muscles had been worked out, stretched and prodded until they were spongy and soft again, his brain was still a mess. What could he do to prevent such an outcome? How could he implement himself back in your life in a way that would put him in a perfect position to determine who you decided to spend the rest of your life with?
Hours passed as he laid on his sleeping mat and pondered. Eventually his thoughts were interrupted by your voice calling out to him. At first he had assumed it had been a figment of his imagination – that because his thoughts were all consumed by you, his brain had decided to play a trick on him. But then the voice came again, and again, and it only stopped after he had responded.
It was you, really you! Sitting next to him, poised upon your knees as you spewed something about an apology. Truly, he did not care. Everyone has bad moments, maybe not him, but now wasn’t the time to say that.
You hadn’t liked that. Forced him to not just brush off your apology. And that’s fine, it’s the first time in nearly half your lives that you’ve said more than ‘okay’ or ‘I heard you’ to him. So he accepts your apology all while silently hoping that you’d stick around, say something else to continue the conversation. You must’ve missed him as much as he’s missed you. Must have been wondering what his daily life looked like now.
Instead, you move to rise. Hands plant on your knees as you let your center of gravity shift to allow your knee to come up from beneath you. It’s then that Neteyam realizes Eywa’s delivered you to him. Here, on a shining platter (your knees so you’re level to him), and he’d be a fool to not take the opportunity to talk.
He lets his hand rest upon your wrist for a moment. Allows his calloused fingers to feel over your pulse point until you question what he needs. It takes him a moment to find his voice, to gather his thoughts into a proper sentence.
“I’ve just been thinking. I miss you, we used to be so close, you know?” Neteyam lets his hand drop, believing that you’ll stick around without him tethering you, “What happened to us?”
For a moment he thinks that you will give him an answer. Something about how you wanted space to grow into your own, but now that you’re both old enough you’re willing to become friends again.
“What do you mean, ‘what happened to us,’?” A scoff falls from your lips, face falling into an unimpressed scowl, “Trust me when I say this. You are not important to me. You may have been, but you never will be again.”
What?
What were you saying? Implying?
He supposes that he didn’t have to be important to you. But he never thought you’d say such a thing. Never thought such a statement would leave your lips when regarding your future Olo’eyktan.
Not that he needed to mention his rank. It was something that followed him as a child, something that lingered in the back of all the friendships that he held. You had never acknowledged it though, he was ‘just Neteyam’ and he couldn’t be happier for that.
Before he can move to grab you again, to try and force you to explain your rash statement, you’re up and out of the kelku. He moves to stand but his body aches and he can’t move fast enough. By the time he calls out to you, he knows you’re gone.
How strange.
No matter. Neteyam’s sure that he’ll have plenty of opportunities to talk with you before the mating season begins. Everything can be straightened out and he can claim his rightful position by your side and influence your final decision.
If you were hard to get a hold of before, you were impossible now. Neteyam could rarely catch sight of you. When he did you were promptly out of his vision a moment later, as if you were a phantom of his imagination.
He tried speaking to your friends. Urging them to spill the secret of where you were spending your time. When that didn’t work he tried bribery, offering them an uninterrupted dance with him during the season.
They hadn’t given up where you were spending all your time, but they had told him how you never stayed in the same spot for too long. That you allowed your schedule to rotate frequently to prevent being seen. This was not useful, but he had already pressed his forearm to theirs and grabbed their elbow in the traditional signal of a deal before they gave the information.
When there was only a week left until the start of mating season, he took to more desperate measures.
Neteyam begged his father to place you in his hunting party again. Jake's reply was less than pleasing, “No can do son. Strict orders to keep the two of you out of each other's hair after that last spar.” Who cared how that ended up?! The two of you were adults and could move past that if they gave you the opportunity.
He asked his grandmother to speak to you when you went to her to be patched up. Mo’at sighed as she responded, “I will not get involved in your frivolous situation grandson.” Neteyam had scoffed, spewed something about how it clearly wasn’t frivolous to you, before he departed from the tent.
Next to suffer was Lo’ak. Despite how you had pushed him away, and refused to be seen around hometree with him, Neteyam knew that the two of you still hung out. As Lo’ak had been leaving the village one day Neteyam had stopped him, asking to tag along. “Sorry bro, not blowing up my spot for you.” had been Lo’ak’s carefree reply. What did he mean ‘blowing up his spot’? One would think that after all the heat Neteyam took for him, Lo’ak could do his big brother this one solid, but no matter there was still another path to try.
The final person he dared try was your mother. She was always nice to him, loving and caring whenever he stopped by the weavers circle. Neteyam knew it would be a long shot, but it was still important to try all his options, to just implore her to tell him what had gotten under your skin. But she denied him too, “Ma’ite’s business is her business. You will have to find out from her yourself.” At least she was nice enough to pair her words with a soft tone and a light smile.
What a shame. How did they expect him to solve this situation if you wouldn’t speak to him! How was he supposed to ward off potential mates if he couldn’t be in your vicinity!
The thoughts consumed him all throughout the first week of the season. Sure Neteyam had his fair share of suitors approaching him; plenty of young women, even some men, approaching him to converse and delve into their lives. He still made sure to keep an eye on you however, glancing over the shoulder of the person in front of him, turning his head in your direction as he itches the back of his neck, a few times even excusing himself as he sees you walk off.
The second week is when small gifts begin to be exchanged. He begins to get cuts of meat from Mekani. She delivers him the best, fattiest, pieces of sturmbeest and yerik meat. At first she delivers it raw, but as the week progresses she begins to cook it, glazing it in nectar, or roasting it with fruits.
Neteyam’s not interested. To eat the meat is to show signs of interest, but it’d be rude to just discard. So instead, he takes it to his friends, distributes it between Teylun and Li’ral; and he only slightly regrets it when they begin to sing Mekani’s praises.
Korvyn has been taking up your time. Not all of it, still allowing you to seek out other potential suitors, but he has certainly become bold in the last few weeks. He allows his tail to find your waist, to run it along the base of your own as the two of you talk. Tilts his head appropriately to show his interest in your stories.
There wouldn’t be any worry from Neteyam if you hadn’t been smiling so happily at him. Hadn’t inched closer where you sat perched against the log. Hadn’t presented Korvyn with a fresh harvest of rumaut that you had cut up yourself.
So the next morning Neteyam sets out, before the sun has risen over the horizon. He will bring back the best piece of sturmbeest meat, and then he is going to roast it slowly over the fire. When it is nearly done he is going to wrap it in a leaf with some fine roots, and glaze them both with honey, before allowing it to steam to perfection.
It would be perfect. A meal that he knew you consumed from childhood, perfected by his hands as the perfect distraction from other suitors.
Wait.
Wait.
What was he thinking? From other suitors? He was not trying to court you. Wasn’t trying to take a permanent, romantic, spot in your life.
Well. It wouldn’t be that bad.
He’d known you all your lives anyway. Been close until you were twelve. Your families liked each other, parents supporting each other in the war against the sky people. It wouldn’t be the worst scenario if he were to court you.
Plus who would challenge the future Olo’eyktan for someone's hand? It would be stupid, they wouldn’t have a chance. Who would want a simple hunter, a weaver, a gatherer, or a carver, instead of the future leader of the Omatikaya?
Teylun had said something similar to him just before mating season had started. Boasted that because of his title, he could obtain anyone he wanted, that he could probably get an older woman if he really wanted. Someone with more experience on everything, especially how to make him see stars in the privacy of their own kelku.
He was always more focused on the sexual part of things. On the physical level of affections, not on how they start, on the emotional base that makes everything more intense. But nonetheless, it was a great idea. He’d be able to ward off other suitors and maybe even encourage you to start seeing him how you once did again.
So Neteyam spends the entire day preparing the meal. Kneels over the roast until his back gains a twinge. Ensures that the glaze covers the entire meal nicely, in a perfectly even layer before setting it to properly settle into the meal.
And when he’s finally settled, finally believes that the meal is perfect, he wraps it tightly in woven cloths to seal the heat. Then he’s off to the cookfire. He steps past where his friends reside, faltering for only a moment until he sees that Korvyn has yet again taken the seat next to you, then he is back on his mission.
When he steps into the little bubble the two of you have cultivated neither of you pay him any mind. Your conversation flows, smooth despite his presence lingering in front of you both. Korvyn is in the middle of recounting how he learned to swim when his brother cast him into the river when Neteyam clears his throat.
The two of you turn towards the source of the noise. Korvyn lets a smile grace his features, always so friendly, but you just peer up at him. Your eyes go from the wide orbs that he’s used to, to half lidded at your disinterest.
Neteyam’s eyes are only on you, watching the subtle sway of your tail, the way the furry tip brushes against Korvyn’s. He observes how your chest covering leaves very little to the imagination, it makes his throat dry up until Korvyn’s voice rings out to his left.
“Neteyam, what can we do for you?”
So he clears his throat, lets some saliva coat his tongue, then speaks. “I wish to speak with her.” When no movement is made to leave the two of you alone he opens his mouth again, “Alone.”
“Oh. Right, of course!” Korvyn turns to you as he moves to get up, “I will see you later, kalintu.”
You let your hand grasp his bicep as he stands, allowing it to ghost over his skin until your hand rests in his. Neteyam can see the way your fingers flex as they hold Korvyns, can see the way his thumb rubs over your fingers before he inevitably steps away.
When he departs your face falls more than it already had. Even more so when Neteyam sits next to you. Your brow creases, frown tilting your lips downwards. And finally, he’s granted with your voice being directed at him, “What is it?”
“I prepared this for you.” Neteyam begins to uncover the food, neatly unwrapping the cloths from around it before he hands you the leaf. You stare at it, lifting it in your palms to test the weight before raising your head again.
“Thank you.”
“Open it.”
So you do, maneuver your fingers deftly to untie the twine that secured the leaf before beginning the actual process of unwinding the leaf. As you do a familiar sweet scent begins to flood your senses. You can tell what it is before it even comes into eyesight.
When it is finally revealed you can feel your mouth water. The delicious smell paired with delectable view sparks a hunger that you didn’t have before. But you couldn’t eat it, wouldn’t eat it, the implications were too great especially as anyone could see.
You mutter a soft, “Thank you,” before moving to rewrap the food. Neteyam shoots his hand out though, halting all movement from you.
“I wish for you to try it.”
It was dirty. A play that he shouldn’t be forcing right now, but Neteyam can feel Korvyn still lingering. He knows that he’s watching this whole interaction and Neteyam wants him to know that there’s competition. Worthy competition at that.
“You know I cannot. That we are not prospects for each other.”
“Just try it. I wish to know if I’ve improved on the taste from when we were children.”
A huff leaves your nostrils. Heavy and harsh, as a clear sign of your distaste for Neteyam’s methods. But the slight grumble in your stomach does just enough to convince you. You raise the meat to your lips, parting them just wide enough for a bite before tearing off a piece with your teeth.
You let it rest on your tongue for a moment. To let the glaze flutter over your tastebuds before the tender richness of the meat joins it. It’s good. Very good. Unfortunately, Neteyam had mastered what herbs and spices went best with the meat and honey.
Swallowing your pride you allow a quick, “It is good.” Before you move to wrap the meat again. This time Neteyam lets you, pleased that you’ve tried his food in front of the whole clan. Even more pleased that you couldn’t deny that it was delicious – you may not have verbally said it, but he could tell from the way your eye sparkled and the upward flick of your ear that it was just as you liked it.
The next few weeks went smoothly. Well, as smooth as they could in Neteyam’s eyes.
It had become clear to the clan that he and Korvyn were dueling for your attention. He had thought it would work in his favor, if everyone knew he was trying to court you, then they would encourage Korvyn to back off.
Instead, Korvyn's friends seemed to step up their encouragement. Neteyam heard whispers from them about how good of a pick he had made, how if the Olo'eyktans son wanted the same woman then she must've been the perfect choice. If Neteyam wanted to take a page out of Li'ral's book, then he would have used the statement to his advantage.
Ran to you and told you that Korvyn only spoke to you because he wanted to stake claim over something that Neteyam wanted. But before he could even let the thought form he heard Korvyn’s voice drift over, ‘that does not matter to me. I thought she was perfect before he decided to intercept.’ Great. He was a great, honest guy.
Neteyam really hopes that they can get along afterwards. That there wouldn't be any hard feelings when he took his rightful spot by your side. But he wouldn't be too upset if it didn't work out – the more distance between you two, the better.
As the time passed he began to appreciate you. At first it had been a distraction, to encourage others to stay away. But as he spent nights bringing you meals, rare flowers, dyes from rare fruits, even a couple of carved bone jewelry pieces, he got to know you again.
He relearned the sound of your voice – not the one he usually heard, the blunt, uninterested tone. But instead the light airy tone that you held in casual conversation.
Relearned how your outer eyelid begins to droop when you're tired. How you refuse to sleep when there's much left to do, and how your eyes begin to tear up in protest to your stubbornness.
Relearned how you'll allow your bare foot to scrape against the dirt when you find a pebble. Most would move their foot, kick the pebble away, or if they must, plant their foot on top of it and try to ignore the sensation. You instead, embrace it.
Relearned how observant you are. Even if you look to be immersed in a conversation, you're still tuned into everything around you. Your ears will flick back at particularly loud laughs, eyes will steal glances when people begin to move in your vicinity.
He feels as if he’s relearned you entirely. Cataloged every piece of you that was missing in the past twelve years.
You must have felt the same. Felt as if you came to understand him better. That every missed moment was now known and that you were as close as before.
Neteyam’s drifting thoughts led to him messing up his weaving. He had switched stitching styles midway and now the armband looked crooked and mangled. He grunts in anger before putting his fingers into motion to fix his mistake.
“What is wrong?”
His mothers voice rings out behind him. She was preparing for dinner, carving the roots and slicing the meat while Neteyam sat a few feet away. She was always so observant, her oldest son the easiest for her to read.
“Nothing is wrong mother.”
He can hear the knife she held being placed down on the stone she was cutting on. Can feel her body heat shifting closer to his. “Something is wrong. You are tense, hunching over your craft as if it must be shielded from the world.”
Neytiri's palm presses between his shoulder blades. It urges him to sit up straight.
“I want it to be perfect.”
He can feel his mother peering over his shoulder. It brings tension back into his body as he holds his breath. If his mother didn't like it he isn't sure what he would do.
“It will be.” Neytiri nods approvingly, “You do not need to rush.”
He did need to rush. Teylun told him this morning during training that he overheard that Korvyn had finished his courting gift. That could only mean that he would be presenting it to you tonight at the gathering, which meant that Neteyam had to finish his courting gift before then.
The two of you had been close last night. Closer than usual, dancing next to the fire with other couples. Body's swaying and twirling around each other, never straying far enough for someone to slip between you two. If Korvyn got to you first tonight, Neteyam was nearly sure that you would accept his gift, that he would lose you to him.
So he just smiles tightly at his mother. Nods in faux agreement that he had time to complete it, that he could be patient. He knew better though, and he knew he could complete it. Hours spent training in the ways of his people meant that he was well versed, he would complete this easily before the festivities tonight.
Normally armbands were fashioned with feathers as accent pieces. Two or three that would hang down the wearers bicep, usually of a color that meant something to them. He wants the feathers to be something that stand out; a nice rich orangy-red. Not only would it stand out against your blue skin, but it’d also draw attention, garner questions about who made it for you.
The thought brought a small smirk to his face. You, confirming the suspicions that the two of you were becoming something more, to any and all who asked.
As he approaches the fire he scans to look for you. You aren't at your normal log. You aren't settled where your friends are. Aren't nibbling on something near the edge of the forest.
Where were you?
Maybe you were late. He had heard that you were going to wash at one of the hot springs after training today, maybe you just hadn't made it back yet. That would make sense.
He takes up position with Teylun, Li’ral, and the rest of their friends. He tries not to get too comfortable, to be ready to jump up and head over to you as soon as you breach the forest.
Neteyam didn't want to seem like a prude by not partaking in the activities while he waited. So he drinks some wine and assumes a casual, loose position. He converses with his friends, shares his opinions on their prospects, answered when they question his stance with you.
The conversation almost leads him to miss your arrival. But his ears flick towards the sound of your voice instinctually. He allows his head to swerve with them, to watch as you greet your friends. You seemed happy, smiling as you caught up with them, he wondered what you were talking about.
It seemed wrong to interrupt. When the conversation died down he'd slowly meander over, politely ask your friends to excuse you, and drag you away from prying eyes. Then he could present you with the armband and implore you to give this courtship a chance.
As he ponders how the situation would go, Neteyam can see a figure approaching. When his eyes refocus he notices its Korvyn. He's approached you while you talk, urging you away as Neteyam was just daydreaming he would.
No.
No, no, no. Neteyam only has one thought coursing through his mind as he approaches – Korvyn would not ruin this for him.
“Korvyn! Can I speak to you for a moment?” Neteyam places a firm hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.
Korvyn nods, “Of course.”
Neteyam drags him away; away from prying eyes, away from their friends, away from you.
“I heard you are going to give a courting gift tonight.”
“I am.”
Neteyam lets his tongue lave over his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth as he picks his words carefully. “I do not think it wise to do that.”
“Why is that?” Korvyn’s brow furrows, nose scrunching before he schools his expression back to neutral.
“I wish to court the same person. And-” Eywa is he really doing this? Yes, he was and there was no turning back now, “and it would be embarrassing for her to deny you in front of everyone.”
“She has said that she would deny me?”
Neteyam lets his lips press tightly together, “I have not asked. But it would be wise to think of all possibilities.”
With another pat to Korvyn's shoulder Neteyam turns to leave. He makes his way back to the fire, back to the music, back to you.
But you aren't there again. So he rushes to your friends, questions your absence like he should have done earlier. They tell him you were tired, that you had outdid yourself earlier and the hot spring loosening your muscles only made you more tired.
That is fine. Perfectly fine. He could see you in the morning, before training went underway. Drag you away to a more secluded area and confess his feelings then while he presents you with the armband he carefully crafted.
So he goes back to his kelku. Laid down on his sleeping mat and pulled a pelt over his body before drifting off to sleep. When he wakes up he's excited, happy to see where this day takes him. Ever the optimist.
But when he gets to the training grounds you are not there either. It is fine, you were probably late again – you said you were tired the night before, maybe you just slept in today.
Neteyam tries to keep his optimistic mood, to be the open and kind person that he should be. However it falters as the day goes on and he still does not see you.
You didn't make an appearance for the midday meal. Fine.
Didn't show up to the weavers circle to gossip with your mother and the other older women of the clan. Fine.
Weren’t up high on the ikran rookery tending to your ikran as if they were your child. Fine.
Maybe your father had sent you out to duties he was unaware of. Things that drew you away from the village. But then you weren’t at the fire later on. Not the cookfire or the celebration fire either.
And to be honest, it was still fine.
Neteyam was able to emotionally regulate himself to not fall into a spiral. To not consider that something bad had happened, or that someone else was able to steal you away in courtship before he could. You were probably resting, and if you were not resting maybe you had fallen ill.
So he lays his head down to rest another night, preparing to get up as the sun rises. He'd go to your kelku and ask for you before you had a chance to leave – not that you would be leaving, since you were sick, of course.
Upon arriving your mother greets him.
“Oh Neteyam! So good to see you – quite early though.. How is your mother? And your siblings, are they treating you well?”
A polite smile graces his face. He’d always been fond of your mother, and it’s important to answer all her questions diligently if he wanted to ensure she also liked him.
“I apologize for the intrusion. She is well, I believe she's preparing for a hunt right now. My siblings are also well – troublemakers, but they are well under my watchful eye.”
Your mother nods along as he speaks, showing her interest, “That is good. I am very happy to hear the Olo’eyktan’s family is doing well.” She wipes her knife with a cloth, sheathing it before her face lights up, “Ah - I apologize, you must be here for something important if you came so early.”
Neteyam smiles, your name leaves his lips and he smiles politely. When your mothers expression falls into something morphed from confusion Neteyam realizes his mistake and continues.
“I was hoping to speak to her.”
“She is gone for the day already, another busy schedule.”
“Do you know where I might be able to find her?”
Neteyam feels as if he can see the gears turning in your mothers head. It’s as if he’s watching her weigh the pros and cons of revealing your location. He hopes that the pros outweigh everything else and that she’ll guide him in the right direction but he’s not foolish – he knows family should stick together. It’s his fathers favorite saying anyway.
“I do not. She has taken on many responsibilities recently.”
Neteyam can feel his face fall before he can school his expression. Disappointment settles in his bones, weighing his shoulders down. But before he can fully allow himself to count today's pursuit as a loss, your mother speaks again.
“She may be with the gathers. Fishing while they gather fibers for weaving. However, I am not certain.”
A smile graces his face at that. It wasn’t a definite answer of your whereabouts, but it's good enough. There were many spots to gather fibers down the river, and the walk would give him ample time to perfectly craft his confession.
As he walks through the forest Neteyam allows himself to kneel and pick a few flowers. If all went well maybe you'd allow him to braid them into your hair. He could picture it now. The two of you sitting in an alcove of a fallen tree, the ambiance of the local fauna surrounding you, talking about any and everything that came to mind as Neteyam weaved your braided hair into other patterns to incorporate the flowers as well.
Sounds of rushing water and muffled voices force him out of his daydream. Arriving to the river means he has to attune himself to everything – he’d hate to miss you because you were on the other side of the river, or if the group you were with ended up being more inland.
When he passes groups Neteyam puts on a proper face. He smiles, greets the clan members – sometimes he helps them with picking the fibers, or hauling a catch. When he comes upon the third group, he spots you nocking an arrow a few paces away.
After you release the arrow, he calls out to you. He watches as your yellow eyes snap to his figure. You allow your head to fall into a slight nod of acknowledgement before wading out to retrieve your catch.
Neteyam steps slowly, as if he is trying to not startle an animal. His hands reach out in front of him, trying to show that he means no hard as you yank the arrow from the octofins body. When you toss the fish into a basket filled with the rest of your kills, he finally approaches.
“Can I steal you from fishing for a few moments?”
He can see the way your tongue rolls over your top teeth beneath your lips. The way your eyes narrow just slightly, before you motion towards the forest.
Good. The denser flora would better muffle your conversation from prying ears. He wanted this to be a more intimate moment, and he’s glad to see that you share the sentiment.
Neteyam feels like a child with how he brambles behind you. His feet snap twigs, his hands take ages to move the vines from his vision, and his heart is pounding in his chest. Any sense of preparation flees when you reach a clearing that you deem good enough.
“Speak.”
Not the joyous greeting he had hoped for, but it was fine, he could work with it. Perhaps you were just stressed about bringing back enough fish.
“How have you been? I missed you at the festivities the past few nights.”
You scoff, “I am fine. I have been busy – I am currently busy as you just saw. What did you come all this way for?”
“I wish to give this to you, so you can carry a piece of me with you always.” Before Neteyam can begin to dig into the satchel that rests tied to his tewng on his hip, a snarl from you halts his movement.
“Do not humiliate me. I will not allow it, not again.”
“I would never. These past few weeks have been very special to me. I feel as if I have gained ma txeylan back, as if we had never grown apart.”
Your lips tightly purse together, and you nod. This is not how Neteyam thought it would go. He believed that you would share his sentiment, that you would elaborate on how it felt from your perspective. Did someone else get to you first?
“Do you not feel the same.. Did–did you agree to pursue someone else already?”
“Oh you are just so full of yourself! Can’t you see that?” You bellow, “You toss me aside for some new shiny friends, just to act like it’s my fault that we aren’t friends anymore. And now you bring up Korvyn? After you’ve forced your rank so that he does not court me?”
Neteyam allows his brow to crease. “What do you mean?”
“The other night! He had approached me to speak before you dragged him away, and yesterday morning I hear that he's been asked to stay away by the future Olo’eyktan.”
“No. No, not that.” He waves his hand dismissively, before looking back at you, “I did not toss you aside.”
“After your iknimaya. When Teylun first approached he called me a child. Then you brushed me off until your dream hunt, and then you only laughed at me and called me a child yourself!”
Realization dawned on his face. Much had happened in the past years, so much that he had buried that memory in his head, refused to allow it to see the light of day.
“I… I am so sorry.” You huff a laugh, disbelieving smile adorning your features before Neteyam continues, “I was taken with the praise that was being bestowed upon me, blinded by their perceptions of who I was that I didn’t consider how rude and childish my actions were.”
“Even if that were true, you only started taking an interest in me when you saw others approach – not because you truly wanted to reconnect.”
“It started like that, but I have always enjoyed our time together.” Neteyam hopes you can hear the earnestness in his tone.
He tries to assess the non vocal signs you give him. The way your ears are slightly tilted back in annoyance, the way your tail is lashing angrily, how your fingers dig into your elbows where you hold your arms together. And despite your standoffish stance, you don't snap at him again.
“Actions must be paired with your words. Do not embarass me.”
A smile graces his lips, overjoyed that you're giving him a real opportunity, “You wont regr–”
“If you try to humilate me again the beating you recieve will be worse than the last.”
“Of course.” The smile falls a bit, but he cannot shake it from his face entirely. “May I help you bring back the fish you have caught?”
The thought dances around your mind before you shake your head, “No. You may begin with whatever you're trying to achieve tomorrow. Let me fish in peace.”
Not wanting to ruin his chances, Neteyam listens. Withdrawing from the area bidding the lingering clan members a goodbye before he begins his trek back through the forest. It hadn't gone as he planned, but you hadn't taken away his opportunity. Hadn't sealed and locked your heart away like one of the pressurized doors at the human outpost.
He hoped that his luck would play out. That he would be able to charm you into feeling the same way for him. But time would only tell.
Everyday Neteyam worked on something. Something to impress you. Something to show he cared. That he considered you as more than a prize to win.
At first they were simple things.
A nice feather to tag your arrows with.
Materials to help you craft a stronger grip for your knife.
Polished rocks that could be carved down into something to adorn your body or be used as decoration.
But Neteyam knew those things would only mean so much. Deep down he knew that anyone could retrieve those items for you – he had to distinguish himself somehow, to show how much better he was for you then any of the other candidates.
So the gifts progressively got more elaborate.
When you carved yourself a new bow, he weaved fibers together to make you a string to match its fury.
When the two of you somehow ended up in the same hunting party, he placed you in prime positions. No longer watching for unseen stampedes, but now being the one to arrive at hometree with the delight of knowing the clan would feast on your kill tonight.
He spent time making new meal combinations. Picking the ripest fruit to pair with savory mushrooms. He’d scour for ferns to crush into spices for meats. Swim out to rocks in the middle of lakes and rivers to catch the bigger fish that resided there.
Neteyam wished to make you clothes, jewelry, shawls, anything that could adorn your body. He wanted others to look at the craftsmanship and question where you found the time to make something so intricate when you were so busy. He wished for a deep purple tint to find your cheeks when you admitted that Neteyam made them for you, that he somehow found time in his even busier schedule to make you such detailed gifts. But he knew he had to wait – that he should wait, at least until you accept his courting.
So until then he continues with other acts.
He makes mental notes of beautiful hidden alcoves that he sees on patrol. Which he later begs you to accompany him to. Some are in the forest, hidden behind vines and trees but bright with glowing flowers and moss. Others are in the floating mountains, lush green spots that contain shallow bodies of water for the two of you to lounge in after a long day.
Most importantly, well most important in Neteyam's mind, he makes more of an effort to listen and also show you that he heard you.
When he asks about your day, he makes sure to delve into the little details about what fibers you're using for your weavings. Then the next morning more miraculously arrive outside your kelku.
When you state that a meal didn't come out as good as you hoped because the fruit you used wasn't of the rarest quality because you didn't want to scale the mountain for it, Neteyam makes sure that not only the fruit, but the meat and the nectar you were using show up with him the next day. You tried to take it from him with a polite apology, but he insisted that the two of you cooked together. He couldn't stop himself from getting caught up on the fact that you let him feed you when taste testing the meal.
When you complained others speaking about you, Neteyam set them straight.
To’lei said that the future Olo’eyktan couldn't have a carbon copy of himself as a mate, that he needed someone with a slightly different personality. So he politely reminded her that his mother not only matched, but exceeded in some senses, his fathers personality and their leadership has been strong and prosperous.
Ulkan mentioned how the two of you had always butted heads, that this complete change did not make sense. Neteyam informed him that people can change and mature, but also that mistakes and misunderstandings happen and those are mendable wounds.
And before Teylun and Li'ral could even think of making a comment Neteyam took the initiative to speak to them. He tried to not dwell on the past, to blame them for his past mistakes, but he did make it clear that they would have to respect you from now on, along with more of the clan's women. Specifically for you however he made it clear that it is not to be because of his interest in you, but because they can acknowledge your skills and prowess in what you do.
After weeks of changing his ways, of proving himself to you Neteyam began to think that it would not work. That you wouldn’t ever take him seriously and all of this was for naught. Sure, you had softened – allowed him to be around you more, laughed freely, and teased him as you once did. But that didn't mean you'd give him a real chance at proving how good of a mate he'd be.
But one morning as he's making his way to the training grounds he sees you already there. You’re teaching some of the children how to properly hold their bows – what stance their feet should be in, how to twist their hips, and how to line their shots. That isn't unusual, the children loved to learn from you and you didn't view it as a hindrance as long as they listened.
What was unusual was the bright orange and red feathers that adorned your bicep, upon trailing his eyes up a bit more Neteyam could see that they were attached to a very familiar pattern.
He couldn't stop the smile from gracing his face. The boyish grin bringing a sparkle to his eyes as he approached calling your name.
“You accept?”
You startle. Wave the children off dismissively, and huffing a bit when they don't disperse easily because of their nosey habits. But then you turn to him fully and nod.
“I am willing to try. It is as if you brought back the aspects of the boy I grew up with and paired them with the actions of a man.”
“That was my goal.” His hands reach towards your hips but they hover instead of landing, “May I touch you?”
When you nod again he allows his hands to fall. His thumbs begin soothing over the skin they rest on, “How about a kiss too? I promise I will not disappoint you.”
Instead of answering you allow your lips to press to his. It's brief, nothing to cheer or shout over, but it's everything to Neteyam. It's proof that all his months of trying have now progressed into something palpable, and it means that his feelings are reciprocated. When he moves to kiss you again, you press a hand to his chest halting his movements.
“There are children around.”
“It is nothing they have not seen from their parents.”
“Do not be hasty. How about we go flying tonight, and we can… continue then?”
Neteyam nods eagerly, dislodges himself from you and begins to make his way across the training grounds. If he were to stay nearby with this recent revelation hanging in the air he wouldn't be able to contain himself.
So he strides away, takes to sharpening a spear with an even wider grin than before adorning his features. He cannot wait for the future that he is so sure will happen – mating before Eywa, the ceremony with the clan, the births of your children, and eventually falling into the roles of leaders.
He should make a stop by the spirit tree to thank Eywa later. Neteyam is sure that she has had a role in this. That she had opened your heart and mind to the idea of him, and that without her he would have never been able to atone for his past mistakes, and never had won you back.
He would have never become important in your eyes again if not for her.
Maybe he would even take you - to prove that she had blessed this communion. Or maybe not, he should save that for when you consummate the union anyways.
Translation:
Eveng - child
Ma txeylan- my best friend
Rumaut - cannonball fruit
Ma’ite - my daughter
Kelku - home
Kaltxì - hello
Tewng - loincloth
Skxawng - idiot/moron
Kalintu - sweet person
a/n: lowk didn't love the ending of this but i wanted to write it instead of figuring out my ten minute presentation thats due in a few days or studying for my super important exam on monday soooo it is what it is
Dividers by @cafekitsune
tag: @skepticalvoidhedgehog
pls like/comment/reblog/come into my inbox and tell me what u think of the fic <3
-Fucking his sleep deprived mate before your 6 kids wake up, and before he leaves for his Olo’eyktan duties [The same little flower]
-Olo’eyktan Neteyam publicly fingering you on his throne, by the fire to remind people who you belong to
-Neteyam helping you get rid of your achey little pussy [the same little sis]
-Dom!Neteyam fucking his dumb little girl into the ground
-Quickie with Dom!Neteyam in rut in the middle of his duties
-Dark!Neteyam helping his drugged up innocent little friend feel so much better[The same little ocean girl]
-Neteyam using you like a toy
-Neteyam's obsessed with the way your ass jiggles when he fucks you stupid
-Neteyam overstimulating his little human sister's pussy
-Dark!Neteyam cumming in his little human sister's panties
-Dark!Neteyam admiring your little human body+thumb sucking while you're drugged dumb by him
- Neteyam using his pretty little drugged dumb girl
- Neteyam eating your pussy against a tree when he's supposed to be training
-Neteyam's tired of you acting like a fucking brat
-Neteyam using you and pumping you pull of his cum
-Neteyam breeding his little human
- Neteyam's so fascinated by the taste of your tawtute pussy
- Dark!Neteyam who can’t fuck his little sis incase he knocks her up
-Neteyam plowing you into the ground
-Dark!Neteyam giving you some of his 'special milk' so you can fall back asleep
-Neteyam has cum in his dumb little cum slut..3 times? He isn't keeping count with his Na'vi stamina
-Can't talk if his mouth's full
-Loves eating you out in whatever position his mouth lands in when he steps foot into your kelku
~°Ao'nung⋆.𐙚 ̊
-Ao'nung's first time eating your human pussy. [Ps: he can’t get enough of your juices]
-Ao’nung's first time using your little tawtute (human) mouth
-Ao’nung showing you what his frog fingers can do after you made fun of them
-Mean dom!Ao'nung loves to watch you go dumb on his big cock
-You're mad at Ao'nung for always training, so he shows you how his fast swimming skills can benefit you too. "Not so mad are you now oeyä mate. No you're not. Can’t even fucking talk can you?"
-Your favourite sound is the ocean, his is your pussy
-showing you what his fish lips can do
-Mean!Ao'nung stepping on your head for being impatient "I don't have to teach you some manners, do I?"
- Ao'nung testing how needy his good girl's mouth is before you get a taste of the future Olo’eyktan
-Size difference w Ao’nung
-Ao'nung fingering you dumb after you decided to shit talk the shit talker [him]
-Ao’nung has cum in his dumb little sea puppy...3 times? He isn't keeping count with his Metkayina stamina
-Ao’nung breeding you reminded me of this pic: bcs of the thighs
-Ao'nung was so eager to taste your pussy
-Ao’nung showing you what else is big about Metkayina men
-Ao'nung lightly punishing you for going too deep into the water
-Telling Ao’nung to use you to get his frustration out
-Like how he controls his ilu
-Breeding and baby trapping you for trying to run away
-Ao’nung teaching his innocent little mate how to kiss!corruption
-Reminding you who you belong to after you let another man teach you how to race on ilu
-"You just can't fucking wait can you"-Ao’nung quickly checking up on your needy little holes before he goes back to his Olo'eyktan duties
-The only time he shuts up
-Licking his cum out of you
-Metkayina women don't have breasts like his tawtute
-Eating your pussy on a rock seems like the perfect day to him
~°Jake⋆.𐙚 ̊
-Mean!Jake teasing all your holes
-Jake’s first time eating a human pussy in so long
-Jake loves how dumb his fingers make you and he loves how sensitive Ma'vi pussy is
-Dark!Jake loves using his dumb little girl while Neytiri is away
-Jake seeing how Na'vi women take it
-Jake showing you how humans do it
-Dark!Adoptive dad!Jake rewarding you for not telling Neytiri he touches you im your special place
-Dark!Adoptive dad!Jake can't fuck his little girl incase you get pregnant
-Jake testing out his Na'vi strength
- Baby I don't know whether to fuck you or make love with you
~°Lo'ak⋆.𐙚°
-enemies to lovers Lo'ak
-Giving Lo'ak his first orgasm
-Lo'ak prefers your mouth over Tsireya’s
- Lo'ak proving his can be in control
-Lo'ak plowing you into the ground
-Feels so good he can barely do anything or think
-Lo'ak sharing you with his big brother to he can get some tips
-Lo'ak sharing you with his big brother pt.2
-Lo'ak loves to feel your mouth wrapped around him
-Lo'aks first blowjob
-Lo'ak's first meal of the day
-Lo’ak isn't too sure how this is done but you taste so good that he keeps going
-Fun time with Dark!Lo'ak
-Taste turns
-Lo’ak almost passing out from pleasure while you ride him
-Your pussy feels so good that he forgets Tsireya is there too
-Your pussy feels so good that he forgets Tsireya is there too pt.2
-Making sure you're still making noise for him
-Helping your bestfriend feel good
-Desperately fucking your pussy lips cus it's not mating time yet
-Lo'ak hates being useless so he makes himself useful
<Hi my dolls, I have really bad writer's block, so I'm treating you with something else>>>♡
after jake suggests that neteyam should start to court a mate, he only has one person on his mind. and yet, all you can think of is how this marks the end of your friendship with neteyam.
content + warnings: [wc: 4.8k] friends to lovers, pining, angst, friendship breakup, everyone is of age, post AFAA, miscommunication (no communication at all, really), mild AFAA spoilers (if you squint), everyone lives, eventual smut (but not in this chapter), slowburn (considering the word count), lowercase intentional
chapters: one 𓇼 two 𓇼 three
Translations:
uturu: sanctuary
pa'li: direhorse
iknimaya: rite of passage
syuratan: bioluminescence
ean menari: blue eyes
tsmuke: sister
tsmukesyip: little sister
marui: pods (homes)
tewng: loincloth
tanhi: bioluminescent freckles
yawne: beloved
you had never felt peace like this before. the kind that filled your lungs when you inhaled and settled your mind as you exhaled. it made everything feel effortless. it made you feel serene.
the water was a stunning vision of waves, calmer than most days and refreshing in the recent climate. but it could have been boiling and you wouldn't have flinched. not when you were in his company.
"i loved that river, but i always wanted to see where it led," neteyam's voice was low among the gentle splashes of water as he spoke, "what else existed if i followed it? something better? or was it more of the same."
you shifted on the back of se'lei, the tulkun you called your sister, awaiting his story. your voice wavered with poorly hidden excitement when you replied, "and did you follow it?"
a small smile danced on his lips, an ear twitching, "i did."
when neteyam and his family arrived at your village seven years ago seeking uturu, at first, you only watched them from afar. there was no point in befriending outsiders that would leave as soon as their need for uturu passed. that avoidance only lasted a month because your best friend, tsireya, begged you to help her teach them to assimilate. she also couldn't stop talking about toruk makto's youngest son. it meant that you naturally grew closer with his eldest one.
it wasn't just that you and neteyam were alike in age. you were alike in spirit, too.
he was a warrior in his heart and in yours, you were an adventurer. someone who sought to find a new story wherever you could.
your fingers absently braided a piece of your water soaked hair, trying to will yourself some restraint when he didn't immediately continue his story. over the years, you sensed that he found your impatience entertaining. though you had learned to control your zealousness around him, today wasn't one of those days.
you turned on your side to get a better look at him but he was not looking at you. he was clearly relaxed with his arms folded behind his head, a leg bent and tail leisurely swaying beside him. he watched the sky for the eclipse that would soon take place.
you huffed but still didn't say anything. he was intent on taking his time.
that was fine. soon, he would tell you about where the river led. about which animals he encountered and what clans he met.
when he finally decided to speak, of course.
so you let the minutes pass. one and then another. but when one more passed and he still didn't continue, you rolled on your stomach and let your tail slap his chest. he chuckled but made no effort to move your tail away. instead, he closed his eyes with a lazy smile.
"neteyam!" you cried, "just tell me! what happened?" your voice came out piqued, like a child waiting for the conclusion to the story. but you were no child, you only had the patience of one.
he finally opened his eyes only to find yours rapt on his. a playful gleam reflected in the amber before setting his sights back to the nearing eclipse. "it was a day's journey because i had to go on pa'li — i had not completed iknimaya yet so i had no ikran," his tail swept against his leg, "the river turned into a waterfall, too tall to jump. beyond it, the river continued but i could not."
"so you never found its true end?" you asked, your tone laced with disappointment .
you rolled to your back again. side by side, the two of you watched the eclipse settle and the syuratan illuminate the world around you.
a shiver sparked through your spine when his tail brushed against your thigh. it was delicate but you knew better than to assume it was accidental. instead, you returned your fingers to the small braid you were making rather than acknowledging it.
another thing on a long list of things you refused to acknowledge.
it wasn't like you were oblivious and you certainly weren't naive. it's just that when it came to neteyam, you chose to dismiss the subtle ways his tail touched yours when you walked together or how his eyes always seemed to find yours when you were with your friends. you hoped that maybe if you ignored it, he would get it.
but of course, you were alike in spirit which meant that he had a similar list of things he refused to acknowledge, too.
after all, your behavior didn't change how you always accepted his company when he offered, or how he let you drag him out past the reef to hunt, or how the best stories you had involved him.
maybe it would happen gradually, maybe all at once. either way, you knew what giving in to his affections meant and you couldn't let it happen. you valued your friendship far too much to allow it to change.
neteyam still hadn't answered your question.
it seemed his mission tonight was to annoy you because he only gave you a small shrug before he stood abruptly.
you watched him call out to the surrounding waters for an ilu.
"i shouldn't have waited so long to leave," he admitted, "i forgot that my dad mentioned something about a family meeting."
he climbed down to se'lei's front flipper, extending his hand out to help you.
your hand curled around his even though you didn't need it. another thing you wouldn't acknowledge.
"then why are you still here?" you dropped his hand to wave him off, "go!"
but his skin was as warm as his eyes and the lingering heat in your belly was as hot as fire.
you caught the small shake of his head before he dove into the water. it was difficult not to stare as he mounted the ilu. the muscles in his thighs tensed while he straddled it, his torso flexing when he adjusted on top. his hand stroked the ilu's neck gently as he asked, "can i see you again tomorrow?"
you weren't staring — not really — but when he turned, you quickly averted your eyes anyway.
"why are you asking when you just show up either way?" you scoffed, "in fact," you lowered your body to sit against se'lei, "i should say no since you like to entice me and then leave me unsatisfied."
the beads in his braids clinked as they swayed with the small tilt of his head. his eyes never leaving yours, he smirked, "you do not know what you speak of, ean menari," he dragged his eyes down your face, letting them linger on your mouth, "i would never leave you unsatisfied."
that smirk was the last thing you saw before he disappeared into the water.
the surprised breath you sucked in burned your lungs long after he left. the fluttering in your stomach was relentless. and in the comforting privacy shared between you and your tulkun sister, you dared to smile at the thought of him.
se'lei's vibrations rippled the surrounding waters when you slid your body to lay on her flipper with your legs propping up next to her eyes.
a son like him is keenly aware of his father's orders. he did not forget, she said.
"yes he did, he is stupid like that." you signed to her.
no, tsmuke, you made him stupid.
you scoffed, "i did not make him stupid! he came like that!"
he forgot many curfews when you were younger as well.
"yes, because he is stupid."
but he never forgot about any meetings with you.
"sure he did—"
not once.
you frowned. she was right.
but you weren't able to dwell on it because then she lifted her flipper and bounced your body in the air.
"se'lei!" you yelped. shifting to sit upright, you laughed but it did not abate the wail you wanted to let out.
i was not trying to upset you.
"it isn't you, it is my fault," your signing was almost aggressive in what you were trying to convey, "i know what you're trying to tell me, i just do not want to speak it and make it real."
you stroked the smooth skin above her eye. she blinked with another vibrating rumble and said, it already is real, tsmukesyip, it only needs to be accepted.
blinking listlessly, you brought your legs to your chest. any warmth in the air was gone and all that was left was a chill that was too cold.
when it came to neteyam, you only saw two paths. accepting that there was something there meant submission. the independence you valued in your friendship would end to make room for the consequences of a mate. he would ask for the same sacrifice that lenetu, a boy who courted you before, once asked of you. like your mother, you would be urged to lean into the peace of the village. abandon the adventure.
and although it would allow you to live a life with neteyam, it was hardly a life you would be content in having.
the metkayina women were strong and fought bravely in the battles that the demons brought to sea. and yet, your mother still pleaded with your father to let her follow. you witnessed his vehement refusal and the look he bore when he called you vulnerable — a frail thing to be protected. while it didn't stop you from joining as soon as he was out of sight, it was wildly unfair that he would have the authority to demand that.
if the tsahik could still fight while she was with child, so could your mother. and had you not been there —
what was the point in mating for life if you resented the life that it brought?
denying neteyam's affections meant that nothing would change. you could keep his company and maintain your freedom. it was tragic but it was the path you could settle for. it would have to be enough.
"i'm sorry, se'lei, i don't like to think about it," you signed with a noticeable defeat in your shoulders.
it was exhausting to plan a life alone.
. ｡˚ ° . 𓇼 . ° ˚｡ .
the secluded cave wasn't far from the village. the entrance was partly hidden by lush plants of different colors and a curtain of hanging leaves that swayed every time the breeze touched them. its walls were illuminated with glowing vines and flowers that were embedded into the cracks. the best part was the warm pools of water that lit up with the algae growing in them.
it was a popular spot for the young women and girls of the village to start their mornings with. and, though there weren't any rules prohibiting them from being there, the boys avoided the cave until the girls vacated. especially after a particular incident where rotxo, aonung, and spider tried to go in and were scared off by a series of hisses and threats thrown at them.
most days, you and tsireya were there before the others arrived to make the most of the tranquility. it turned into a routine after so many years — wake up, catch up in the cave pools while waiting for the other girls to come, go through your separate days, and if you didn't see each other again that day, you would see each other in the morning.
today, however, you were late.
you and se'lei swam later than usual in an effort to distract your mind. by the time you came back, you had to sneak into your family's marui to not wake your parents.
by now, half of the village was probably awake and if you still wanted to get to the pools before everyone, you needed to hurry. you barely had time to slip on a clean tewng. tsireya could fix your hair when you saw her.
when you finally slipped past the woven fabric covering the entrance, you didn't even make it five steps when you felt the warmth of a hand on your shoulder.
"on your way to meet tsireya?" his voice spoke behind you.
had he been waiting for you?
without turning around, you slipped out of his grasp to take two more steps, "yes! sorry, i am late," you called out over your shoulder, "i'll see you, neteyam!"
each of your hurried steps were on the edge of a run, but his longer strides caught up to you effortlessly. then his hand was on your shoulder once again, this time spinning you to face him.
"i don't think that is a great idea," the lovely smile on his lips was teasing, like he knew something you didn't.
"why not?" you frowned.
"i caught lo'ak sneaking off early this morning," he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, "he took a flower with him."
he began to turn you in the other direction, to the beach.
"he must be gone by now," you muttered, crossing your arms.
"i don't know," he bent his head close to your ear and quietly asked, "do you really want to go see if you're right?"
you both knew the answer to that question.
if you still wanted to go it would need to be later, when all the girls were there and their conversations were too loud.
it wasn't the first time tsireya used the morning to 'bond' with lo'ak — as she liked to put it — but she always warned you the night before. you could've avoided the rushing, done something to your hair.
your hair! it was no doubt a tangled mess of curls. the small braids that adorned it were already loosening.
with a frustrated sigh, you let neteyam drag you away.
"don't look so disappointed, ean menari. i thought you enjoyed my company," he teased.
"not when it is forced upon me!" you scoffed and gave him a playful shove. it did little to sway him.
"and what about when your company is forced upon me?" he quipped.
"forced!" you spluttered, "you have never uttered a complaint—"
"if complaining is all it takes to get rid of you then maybe i should."
"in fact it is," with narrowed eyes to hide your smile, you began to turn around, "i will see you."
before you could slide out of his grasp, his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you closer to him. "no!" he laughed, "don't leave."
it took falling back into a comfortable silence to notice how his body was pressed against yours. he was the warmth that was stripped from the air last night. his arm was steady around your shoulders, gentle and safe. it was really, really difficult not to acknowledge it.
especially with how his fingers traced little patterns on your shoulder. did he even know he was doing it?
the tranquility of the pools had nothing on this — warmth and peace, and it was all in neteyam.
until your chest rumbled with a soft purr.
it was entirely surprising — impressive, even — the speed and rigidity with which you froze.
your breath was caught in your lungs and your eyes were wide in horror.
there was no doubting that neteyam heard it. even if eywa had mercilessly sent a hundred skimwings roaring out of the water at once, his ears were trained to hear the swish of a tail a distance away.
"see," he teased, "i knew you liked my company."
you groaned, slamming your face into your hands.
a quick search through your memories confirmed that you had never felt mortification like this before. it wasn't even a question with how hot your face felt and how tightly coiled your tail was around your leg.
and neteyam… he… was laughing!
he had wrapped both of his arms around your body and almost trembled with each peal of laughter. your face was wedged against his chest with only your hands as a barrier. if you could move them, even a little, your nose would press against his skin.
but if you were caught doing that…
you hadn't even realized he stopped laughing until you felt the gentle grip of his hands around your wrists as he pulled them away from your face.
still, your eyes remained closed, unwilling to face him.
"oh, come on," he was definitely smiling with that lovely smile of his, "there is no need to hide those blue eyes from me."
you huffed indignantly.
"i already knew how fond you were of me."
"i am leaving," you groaned. sure, you sounded petulant but you also didn't make any effort to move.
"why else would you always seek me out for your little trips around the waters," despite the teasing tone, it lacked a certain humor. he sounded sure.
even with your eyes firmly shut, you felt the shift when he took one of your loose braids between his fingers — the piece you were braiding last night.
the shift was subtle. in fact, there was barely a difference. but you felt it in how your ears seemed to ring and how your heart began to race and how your breath hitched in your throat.
"you're the only friend i have who has been beyond the sea," you choked out. it was a surprise there was any strength left in you to speak.
"is that right?" he murmured. "i seem to remember lenetu bragging about his voyage to the floating mountains before."
"yes, but he is not my friend."
you only had so much self-control. the resolve to keep your eyes shut was waning.
the slight tug he gave to your braid was all it took for them to flutter open.
you had braced to be blinded by the sun, but it was only that deep shade of blue that crowded your vision.
you knew that he had stepped into your space, you could feel the heat that only came from proximity. and he was close enough for every inhale to be overwhelmed by his scent — a heady mix of moss and something sweeter that was purely neteyam.
his exhale brushed against the side of your face. it could have been the breeze but that had never felt this intimate.
it was dizzying.
but it still startled you to see just how close he had gotten. close enough to appreciate the woven details of his necklace. beads of various blues accented the darker wood. it was pretty and one of the simpler pieces he liked to wear.
but, if you tilted your head a little higher…
the familiar amber. more than just fire, though they contained plenty of that, they were speckled with splinters of brown. like the wood of his necklace but richer in quality.
all the beauty that eywa provided in nature and the purest form of the color could only be found in his eyes.
and they weren't even looking into yours like they usually were. they were fixated on the side of your neck — at the pattern of stars that adorned it.
"is that what i am?" he whispered, the corner of his mouth tilted in a smirk.
"yes," you hesitated.
it wasn't even a question, was it? if it was, he didn't give you any time to think about it.
all your efforts singled on the finger that had been toying with your braid. it had glided to trace a line of tanhi that trailed down the side of your neck.
it was a small stroke. gentle and soft like the sigh that left your mouth. the briefest contact against your skin and it was gone before you could memorize it.
would he have continued to trace it down your body if he hadn't been obstructed by your own necklace?
neteyam's face had gone blank. devoid of any previous teasing or smirks.
if he heard the purr before, there was a possibility that he could hear your heart hammering against your chest.
"actually, i think you might be my best friend," you cleared your throat and shifted back, desperate to disrupt whatever this was.
he blinked, a slow smile forming.
you looked away to the nearby water that stretched farther than you could see. as if it was more interesting than trying to figure out if the beads in his hair matched the ones on his necklace.
the moment was gone but the expression on his face did nothing to calm the unfettered twists your stomach was going through.
"okay, i can't wait longer. come," he gave you no time to question it. he was already stepping onto the sands of the beach.
you kept a distance as he led you to a corner shaded by tall palms. ever the polite man his father raised him to be, he guided you to sit first before he sat down beside you.
the early morning meant that the sun had not been out long. the sands weren't as hot as they could be. the thrust of waves hitting the shore were calm. neteyam was there.
there should be no reason for the thumping in your chest, the churns of your stomach, the shallow breaths you took, or the squirming of your tail.
you were practically buzzing, but you already made a fool out of yourself with accidental purrs and soft sighs. you could not let yourself do that again. instead, you smiled — forced but friendly.
"so, what is pulling on your patience this morning, neteyam?"
"my patience is never pulled," he scoffed, "that is only you."
your tail whipped to slap his shoulder. "whatever, get on with it," you waved your hand.
"see!" he laughed.
your lips pursed to refrain the jolt of laughter that bubbled in your throat.
as if to make a point, he didn't speak right away. his tail waved around in the air a few times before finally tucking itself under his leg.
three breaths later, "if my family never fled the forest, i would have been the olo'eyktan after my dad," his voice was even and tempered, as if he had rehearsed his words, "even though we have no connections to that mantle here, he still holds those expectations of me."
you knew that. anyone who was around his family knew that. neteyam was competent in everything he did. he was vicious in battles; a skilled warrior in the sea, the land, and the sky. he moved through conflicts with a grace and authority that was simply inherent in him. most of all, he understood duty. you saw it from afar. in the way he cared for his siblings, in the gentle obedience he showed his mother, and how he absorbed the lessons of his father. it never left — the makings of a leader.
"it is okay to admit it," you mused quietly, "you hold them of yourself, too."
he turned to face you with his ears lowered. he only nodded and then continued, "he thinks i should finally start to court a mate."
the words slowly unraveled a thread of cold that spread until it consumed your every limb. even the warmth of his gaze left your body frozen.
although your muscles were rigid, it didn't stop the flinch of your ears as they pressed flat against your head.
unlike before, the shift in the air felt violent despite the same ringing in your ears and racing of your heart and hitch in your breath.
he was going to ask. it was happening.
it was over.
all you could do was smile. delay the inevitable.
when you did, you saw the brief wavering of doubt fade from his face, replaced by something lighter. an expression you were familiar with. "i agree with him, but i need to know what you think."
"i think it is a great time," your words were slow, trying to find them as they formed, "lo'ak and tsireya's mating ceremony is soon, rotxo is courting kiri, aonung is considering someone, too," you smiled, "it makes sense for you to find someone as well."
he nodded, "actually —"
"have you considered nu'ven?" you cut him off, "she is beautiful and she has expressed interest in you before, so has maza," please tell me you get it, neteyam, "they are exceptional women, perfect for you."
he paused and you didn't turn to look at him. your sights were firm on the lapping waters ahead.
"you misunderstand," he sounded amused.
"i do not," you winced.
"you do, i already chose —"
"does she know?" you blurted out.
he chuckled, low and teasing, "clearly not."
you could not let him say the words you knew he would say.
"as your friend, i think you should seek them out soon," you smiled, "i could help in any way you need me to," you tried to sound casual, "i know some of them will ask me for help in getting your attention," you only sounded detached, "you know — because of our friendship."
"i know you are not this dense," he spoke carefully, "i already chose you."
"no," the word tumbled out of you almost too quickly.
he said nothing. with each second that passed, your heart pounded harder. it was beginning to get difficult to breathe until —
"what?"
there was nothing you could do to take it back now.
"unchoose me," you whispered. it was well and truly over.
when you finally glanced over, his eyes were intent on your face. it only made you frown deeper.
he opened his mouth around words he didn't seem to have.
you had none to offer him either.
"i chose you a long time ago," he stressed, "i thought you knew this."
your face crumpled, "i knew."
he moved to kneel beside you, no hesitation in the glide of his movements. "if you knew, then it is only because you felt it, too," he said slowly, "i see you, yawne, more than you think."
your breath stuttered and you couldn't look away. the confidence and fervor in his posture was palpable. he pulled you up to your knees, dragging your body closer to his. you let yourself melt into him, sagging under his gaze, and allowing your skin to touch his.
his hands reached for your face and you let him. you didn't move when his nose brushed your temple, then his cheek to your cheek. when he rested his forehead on yours, you didn't close your eyes.
you let yourself stay in the stolen moment of affection. one that you did not deserve to acknowledge. you were going to break his heart and therefore this was not yours to have.
"it does not matter what i felt, i can't be your mate, neteyam," you urged.
despite yourself, you grazed your own nose against his. later, you would tell yourself it was reflexive, a twitch. the soft sound he made was only a twitch, too.
"yes, you can," he murmured.
"no!" you hissed, harsh despite the tender way you leaned into the touch of his hands, "i beg you to choose someone else."
"i don't want anyone else, i want you."
his tail found your leg. unlike the teasing brushes you were familiar with, it now wrapped itself around your thigh, possessive.
if you angled your head just so, his mouth would hover over yours. you could lean in, taste him. his hand would find your waist, pull you impossibly closer. your hand would find his neck and you might let your fingers tug on the braids it touched. it would be too easy. it was tempting.
it was too much.
you needed to leave.
you didn't even feel like you were in your body. there was a corporeal form moving against your desires. it untangled itself from neteyam's hold and fell backwards. it ignored his hand when it reached out. it scrambled away from him, lost. it stood from the sand and staggered back.
you only realized you had tears spilling down your cheeks when one landed on your collarbone.
"wait—"
"neteyam, i cannot chose you."
even, tempered, rehearsed.
he only shook his head, ears flickered down but his eyes never left yours.
he called out your name and you ignored it. any word he wanted to say would only hurt the two of you more.
it was your fault for thinking that a friendship would last if you ignored the fire. and you weren't going to watch your favorite person burn in it.
one foot after another, you barreled yourself through the village. it was bustling now, with the people starting their mornings. any intent to meet with tsireya was gone. the cave pools would be full with the girls of the village and you had no desire to see their faces.
it made something in the base of your throat knot at the new reality that bled into your mind — neteyam would mate with one of them.
you just begged him to.
hi! you've reached the end of part 1. so far, i have two more parts planned but that may change to 4 (maybe 5) if the story calls for it. thank you for reading and please consider interacting with this post if you'd like to show your support :) part two is up now!
