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Sep 5, 2025

Heartstrings - Part 1

This story is a continuation of the series Precious and will make the most sense when read after the first three parts.

Pairing: Adult Ao'nung x Hyperfeminine Human Reader

Summary: If only love was as simple as it is in your storybooks.

Warnings: aged up Ao'nung, MISCOMMUNICATION (you've been warned), angst, hurt feelings, star crossed lovers, language, interspecies relationship, frustrated Ao'nung, crying, established relationship, family drama, courting, heartbreak, etc.

A/N: I went a little crazy with this one. Brace yourselves.

Adult Ao'nung photos by cinetrix <3

Patrol is mind numbing.

A specific type of torture that Ao’nung is forced to endure a few times a week. He skates along with a skimwing for the first few hours of the day, watching the sun rise at a sea snail’s pace. It’s not as if there is truly anything that threatens to breach their borders. It has been several years since the Sky People were crushed under the Metkayina’s heel. Ao’nung does not anticipate them coming back anytime soon.

Regardless, he diligently keeps a sharp eye and follows his father’s command without complaint. Tonowari claims there is value in a leader participating in even the most mundane of tasks. It further strengthens the connection with the people. Just as there is value in keeping up the strict habit of patrolling should the day ever come where it’s needed again.

Ao’nung has a lot to learn before he can step into his father’s place as Olo’eyktan so despite the voice in his heading saying this is pointless, he shoves his own opinions to the side and takes the advice. Whatever it takes to prove to not only the clan, but his father, that he is worthy of this role.

Turquoise skin heated by the now risen sun, Ao’nung’s shifts on the skimwings saddle and uses a cord to tie his long curls off of his neck. The creature makes a low sound beneath, no doubt just as tired of this routine as he is. He gives her a pat and mentally starts going down the list of responsibilities he has left before he can kidnap his precious tawtute [human].

And then, distant voices snap his ears to attention.

Veytan and Kel'moro linger further towards the shallows, not at the east and west banks where Ao’nung had stationed them. From here he can already hear Veytan’s obnoxious laugh as the other male shoves his shoulder.

Ao’nung sighs.

Never work with friends.

That’s a motto he usually follows but those two had insisted on helping out more. Most likely looking for some sort of status boost that would elevate their courting game. It seems Roxto remains the only friend he can truly stomach working with for hours on end.

Ao’nung dives under the water’s surface, preparing to whip those knuckleheads into shape. However, when he surfaces, their conversation makes the words on his tongue die. Your name is what captures his attention.

“She definitely appears more squishy.” Veytan comments. It is only then that Ao’nung follows their line of sight and finds exactly why their conversation has trailed in this direction.

Because there you are. Perched atop the woven walkway on your stomach with a book in hand and a basket of berries Ao’nung had picked for you yesterday nearby. You lay on a quilt with lace trim. Many times he has told you it’s unnecessary but you ignore him in favor of this picnic idea you love.

It’s not the blanket that catches his gaze, however. Today you’ve opted for a red and white outfit with high waist shorts sporting that red tawtute berry you love so much and a small white top to match. Even the handmade checkered bandana in your hair matches perfectly. It would be endearing were it not for the way your ass almost hangs out the back of those shorts and cleavage is on full display from this angle.

Perhaps you’ve taken this berry theme a little too far because Ao’nung is seconds away from rushing over and taking a bite out of you now.

Unfortunately, he’s not the only one.

“Perhaps it provides a little something extra to grab onto.” Kel’moro’s suggestive tone is anything but subtle as Veytan’s hairless brows perk with interest.

“You may be right but she doesn’t even have a kuru. How is she- AH OW OW!”

“And unfortunately, you do.” Ao’nung snarls, grip tight around Veytan’s thick braid. He continues to yank it further towards the ground, watching the male squirm and twist to get out. These two idiots may very well be the worst scouts he has ever assigned if it’s truly this easy to sneak up on them. Lack of awareness like this could surely get them killed in these dangerous waters.

Maybe today.

Maybe by his own hands.

With the anger that wrestles in his chest now, that idea is more than tempting.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Veytan shouts, hissing in pain when trying to wrestle out only makes it worse. Meanwhile Kel’moro stands awkwardly, a nervous smile in place. If he was a man of any sense he would be diving sixty feet under after talking about another man’s mate in such a manner. Alas, Veytan and Kel’moro fully trust their friendship with Ao’nung to protect them from anything further than being roughed up a bit.

Skxawngs [idiots/morons] indeed.

“I was not aware the west side of the island moved to the north, Veytan.” He growls before snapping his glare to Kel’moro. “Or the east.”

Kel’moro gives an unconvincing laugh meant to break the tension while Veytan finally submits to Ao’nung’s merciless hold.

“Good one, brother. What happen-” Kel’moro starts but never gets to finish.

“Perhaps instead of ogling what is not yours, you skxawngs could get off your lazy asses for once and actually work the perimeters I assigned you to.” Despite wanting to do so much more, Ao’nung roughly releases Veytan’s braid. His hands clench at his sides as he watches the male fall onto his knees in relief.

“So it is true then. You are fucking the tawtute.” Kel’moro has the good sense to create some distance between them the second those words leave his mouth. “Woah woah, I do not speak with disrespect, brother.”

“Yeah, we are only curious.” Veytan adds, Ao’nung whipping around to find the male already back on his feet. “Everyone has been talking about it and-”

“Do they also speak of the two traitors that have allowed enemies to infiltrate our western and eastern borders? Those are the rumors I am interested in.” Sharp cerulean eyes pin the two in place, his thick tail making long strikes in the water.

It is far too early in the morning to find room for patience.

“Brother, there is nothing out there.” Kel’moro shrugs with a half grin, wet curls plastered to his forehead.

“No, not out there. The two of you made sure of that the second you left your posts. Whatever danger would have been out there is now warmly welcomed into Metkayina territory.” He’s not even sure why he is arguing at this point. He too knows that there is no such threat and that they do this to appease their Olo’ekytan, but that does not give them the right to take this responsibility lightly.

Then again, their insubordination and stupidity are things that Ao’nung can handle on a normal day. Annoying, but manageable. It’s thinking about how long the two of them were staring at you, talking about you, that makes Ao’nung’s nails draw blood from the palm of his hands.

That conversation, however, is harder than chewing them out for negligence. Because that conversation ends in Ao’nung trying not to strangle two friends.

“Be reasonable, Nung.” Veytan tacks on the nickname even when he knows it makes Ao’nung’s teeth grind. “We were only trying to understand what all the fuss is about. We would have preferred to get information straight from the source but you won’t talk about her.”

Kel’moro has the nerve to nod along with a feigned pout.

“Yeah you’ve never been reluctant to talk about your special relationships before.” He jests with a wink.

Those special relationships are nothing in comparison to what he has with you. Those had been sex. Just some fun that provided benefits on both sides. It wasn’t courting and it certainly was nowhere near the mating that he will have with you soon.

And since you will be his mate, these men have no right protruding into your business.

“You want to know more about her?” The other two immediately sag in relief at Ao’nung’s question. Veytan props an elbow on Kel’moro’s shoulder as they nod, waiting for their friend to entertain them in story. “Then know this. If I catch wind of either of you getting even close to bothering her I will bite your ear off. Both of you.”

Those smiles slowly sag but Ao’nung doesn’t allow them time for a retort.

“Now both of you get back to your stations before I volunteer you up to my mother’s healers in training for practice in resetting bones.”

Finally understanding that he is in no mood for fun and games this morning, they ride off on their skimwings so fast Ao’nung almost doesn’t catch the comment Kel’moro whispers to Veytan. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Ao’nung presses the pads of his fingers to his eyelids. One breath in. Another breath out.

Maybe it wouldn’t bother him so much were this to be the first occurrence he has come across. Veytan and Kel’moro have always had their own opinions about the tawtute, viewing them as strange creatures that have somehow snagged a place among their village. In all fairness it had taken Ao’nung a while to warm up to the first tawtute, Spider, joining them but that had been years ago. While his perspective has shifted into something much more complicated, Veytan and Kel’moro have continued to view the sky people as nothing more than aliens.

Although they don’t hold any real malice towards the creatures, they are never held at the same level of respect as one would another clan member. Veytan and Kel’moro find them amusing at best, making far too many comments for Ao’nung to stand by and passively witness. And they are not alone. It feels like everywhere he goes he is surrounded by Metkayina who are spreading rumors about what must go on in the sky demon’s cave or sending him perplexed looks once they’ve heard a particular rumor about him and a certain tawtute.

It’s a big adjustment, something his father tells him he should keep in mind while being sensitive to the shock the other clan members must feel. Ao’nung has learned the hard way that sensitivity really just translates to patience, one of his least favorite vices. It’s borderline impossible to be patient when he has to shield you from such negativity on every outing the two of you take together. There is a reason he prefers spending time with you in the sanctuary of his home or out past the reef. At this point he has even come to settle in at your cramped room watching Barbie movies because at least there, he is not worried about you catching an offensive comment whispered while the two of you walk by.

Ao’nung is going to be Olo’ekytan someday very soon, so no one dares to say it to his face but that doesn’t mean is unaware of the rumors and negative opinions. Some Metkayina seem to forget that the tawtute here are fluent in Na’vi, spreading their distaste out in the open for anyone to hear. Anyone including you, who has the cutest little accent but understands every Na’vi conversation perfectly.

And you’re such a sensitive little thing. So sweet and caring but also vulnerable in a way that puts Ao’nung on edge when around others. You are everything he is not, but some days it feels like his show of sharp teeth might not be enough for the both of you. One of these days Veytan, Kel’moro, or some other traditionally rigid Na’vi is going to let their tongue slip and destroy everything Ao’nung has worked to build.

They are going to scare you away.

His hands curl at the base of her neck, pulling the maiden into a kiss of sinful deviations. If anyone were to find them, there would be hell to pay but Sarah can’t find it in herself to care about their difference in station or wealth when rough fingers a slinking beneath them of hem of her dress-

You jump when something splashes your thighs. You set the book down for a moment to investigate but it’s only a few drops of sea water. Shrugging it off you decide it must have been from a wave below.

The prince’s hands are calloused from hours of sword training, rougher than she would expect for royalty. Then again, everything about Nicholas is unexpected. He is a mystery that she yearns to solve while he holds the power to unravel her with just a few simple touches. Just as he does now, creating an alluring trail up her inner thighs until reaching dangerous territory. Until meeting the place between her thighs where heats coils and her womanhood pulses with-

The screech you let out is entirely uncontained, your poor book clenched into a tight fist as something at your ankle drags you across the quilt. Your kicking and screaming only halts when a familiar head of wet curls come into view.

“You ass! Your quick reprimanding that makes the Metkayina prince chuckle as you attempt to kick him. “It’s not funny! You’re going to give me a heart attack!”

Ao’nung simply rolls his eyes and rubs soothing circles around your ankle in apology.

“You are far too easy to sneak up on, precious.” Positioning onto his knees his massive frame crawls forward until drops of saltwater rains from his carved muscles to fall on you. “Sitting so sweetly out here like tempting prey, you are practically begging for it.”

You barely have the common sense to hold the book out of the trickle of water when his eyes are darkening like that. A stirring in your abdomen is quick to respond. You don’t think you will ever tire of the hunger that is seated behind those ocean eyes. Ao’nung is a wet dream trapped in the body of a greek god statue and he is far too aware of it.

“I don’t remember asking to take a shower.” Despite the quip there is no ire in your expression when Ao’nung grins wide enough to show off his sharp fangs. However, when he hovers over and reaches a dripping hand down to touch your cheek, you draw the line. “Ao’nung, seriously! The book!”

Rolling his eyes he sends a glare to the book in hand as if it has personally attacked him before climbing off and settling back onto his haunches.

“You and your books, paskalin [honey].” Fondness seeping into his tone, Ao’nung mirrors your expression in teasing, scrunching his nose in the same manner.

“I had to patch up five pairs of pants just to get Sarah to lend me this book,” you stress.

“Hm, is that so? Well then tell me what’s in the book that has my precious so captivated.”

That throws you for a loop. Squirming in place you slowly close the book and set it behind you just in case Ao’nung makes a grab for it.

“Just some ridiculous spicy novel. I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

Ao’nung’s muzzle crinkles and his eyes squint to give you a suspicious look.

“Spicy? I don’t think you are supposed to be chewing on it, precious.” He teases, wearing a confident smile even though you know he is genuinely confused. Although you have no reason to be embarrassed, heat fuses into your cheeks and you let out a nervous laugh.

“Ao’nung, no, that’s not…” You shake your head. “It’s just a tawtute term. Don’t worry about it.”

However, at this point you know better than to use such phrases around the future Olo’ekytan. Nothing sparks Ao’nung’s curiosity more than being denied information. It doesn’t matter if he wasn’t invested before. The second he is told no it’s seen as a challenge that the male can not stop himself from pursuing.

“Well that’s not very fair, paskalin.” He picks up your right leg to splay it across his lap, skilled fingers starting to trace circles along your calf. “I’ve been working so hard, just looking forward to visiting my sweet tawtute in hopes of hearing another one of her stories. And now,” He lets out a dramatic sigh with a pout. “You won’t share it with me. It’s not like I can read it myself.”

Turquoise fingers trail up your inner leg, brushing the back of your knees just long enough to create a tickling sensation. Ao’nung has a firm grip on your ankle to keep you from scooting away.

Stifling back a laugh you barely manage to shake your head and glare at him.

“Won’t you translate it for me, precious?”

Despite the soft touch that is dangerously close to tickling you into a gasping fit, you immediately scoot the book further behind you. This is not the type of book one reads out loud, especially in public.

A shriek is ripped from your throat when Ao’nung wiggles his fingers at the back of your knee and mercilessly won’t let you flee from the sensation. You should have never let him find out how ticklish you are. It is a weapon he has come to love using far more than he should. No matter how much you pout or squirm or whack at him, he claims it is worth hearing your unrestrained laughter.

“No, Ao’nung! Please!” You beg for mercy but are only met with his raised brows in expectation. “It’s not appropriate!” You gasp and that finally affords you a break to breathe.

However, once you have escaped the tickling and oxygen has gotten back to your brain, it becomes clear what a mistake you’ve made. Ao’nung’s teasing grin is gone but only to be replaced with a vibrant interest that even has his thick tail curling upwards.

“Oh? What type of perversion has my sweet tanhi [bioluminescent freckles/star]

been filling her head with?” Ao’nung feigns an appalled gasp before starting to prowl closer. “All of this time I thought you were reading sweet little stories.” A few curls come undone from his bun and fall over your collarbones as his massive frame comes to trap you from above. Heart rate already speeding up, heat coils in your core when you feel one muscular thigh press at the center seam of your shorts.

“But you’ve just been chasing naughty fantasies, haven’t you?” Your throat runs dry as his lips drag over your pulse. The true debauchery is practically dry humping on the edge of a public walkway, but it is so difficult to care when Ao’nung hooks a hand under one knee and hoists your leg around him so that his thigh has better access to your core. Even the salt water that drips onto your now drenched clothes is nothing of note when that strong chord of muscle drags over your clit. “And you’ve been making me out to be the corrupter.”

You don’t bother to meet Ao’nung’s jesting with your own. Not when you can have his lips occupied with much better things. Your fingers planting into the hair at the nape of his neck, it takes little encouragement to swoop him down for a kiss. The Metkayina male’s tongue does devious work in deepening that entanglement. Keeping your moans stifled is near impossible when your shorts and panties become completely soaked from his minstrations.

If anyone were to ask, you would blame it on the fact that Ao’nung is dripping ocean water all over you.

Twin yips and calls from the left are the only thing that break the moment and remind you of the setting.

Gasping for air you look over to find two Metkayina males on the beach calling from a distance. Ao’nung follows your gaze and immediately slumps with a frown. Which is confusing because you swear those are two warriors around his age that you see him going on drills with. There is no bad blood between them that you know of.

“Aren’t those your friends?”

“Just ignore them,” He sighs before leaning down to trail kisses over your throat.

“Well shouldn’t we say hi?”

The two males seem friendly with the way they smile and wave at the two of you. Of course meeting his friends for the first time in such a compromising position is less than ideal but continuing on as if they have not been seen feels worse. Cheeks tinted the same shade as the berry on your shorts, you give a small wave. It is returned with enthusiasm and distant laughter until Ao’nung reels back and shoots them a sharp stare..

They scamper off awkwardly, only sending one more glance back before rounding the corner.

“Why did you do that?” It’s difficult to speak when Ao’nung’s lips are chasing yours once more. “They were just being friendly mm-” His tongue swirls around your own before sucking it into his mouth in the way he knows makes your pussy flutter.

“Ao’nung,” you whine when he pulls away to nip at your jaw.

“They are on the next watch shift, precious. We can’t disturb them.”

And there it is again. Another excuse. Another rock that sinks to the bottom of your stomach. Suddenly Ao’nung’s thigh against your core doesn’t feel so good anymore. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a big deal if this were the first time he has dodged your suggestions of meeting his friends. Or his family, besides Tsireya, for that matter. But this avoidance has become a habit for Ao’nung and it puts you on edge.

You’ve tried your best to shrug it off, you really have. It’s only normal for him to be apprehensive about introducing a woman to his inner circle, especially when that woman is a sky person. But now it has stretched into weeks and the only people you truly know from Ao’nung’s life are Tsireya and Roxto who you had already met far before the two of you became an item.

Perhaps it’s nothing. Just a few nerves. And god do you want to believe that! But when does Ao’nung get nervous? He is the walking antonym of shy. If there is anyone that has a right to be nervous it is you.

“I like these.” Ao’nung hums into your shoulder, thumb brushing over your new shorts.

“Oh um, thanks I sort of messed up the measurements so they came out shorter than intended but…”You trail off, unsure of how to continue this conversation all of a sudden.

“They are perfect.” He kisses your shoulder before coming up to face you. “You are perfect.”

On any other day that would make you swoon and drag him down for another kiss but the shift in Ao’nung’s attitude is fresh in your mind. His thigh comes to drag against you once more but this time you scoot back without thought. His ears pin back.

“What is wrong?”

“Nothing, just…people are going to be waking up soon.”

Ao’nung takes the excuse well, although he does roll his eyes and mutter something about silly tawtute modesty. He kisses your cheek and finally lets you out from under him.

“I need to get back anyway. But I will see you tonight?” He checks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t you have that dinner with your family tonight?”

Ao’nung’s shoulders drop and he lets out a long sigh. “Yes, I forgot about that.”

And for a moment, just one moment, you think that he is going to invite you to join. But then his smile returns before adding, “afterwards then?”

The lie that comes from your mouth is so carelessly thrown and quick that it makes your head spin. “I can’t. I promised to help Miriam with the ripped curtains tonight.”

You’re not even sure why you say it. There is nothing else you have going on tonight besides finishing a pair of pants you’ve been working on. And yet…there is a part of you that can’t deny that you’ve set a trap for him. Because maybe, just maybe, if Ao’nung is convinced the only way he gets to see you before tomorrow is by bringing you to dinner, he might just think to let you meet his family. It’s playing dirty and honestly preying on his need for quality time but you can’t seem to stop yourself.

It doesn’t yield the results you secretly hope for.

“Hm, then I will miss you, tanhi.” A small kiss is placed atop your nose and the smile he gives you is almost enough to make you forget the disappointment. Almost.

“I’ll miss you too.”

“I don’t have a shift in the morning so I will come see you.” He leans in for one last quick kiss. “No excuses,” He teases and you simply nod as he stands and dives back into the water.

No excuses.

If only you could find a way to say the same to him. Confrontation has never been your strong suit, however, and it still feels like there is so much you don’t understand about Metkayina culture. What if you get upset with him about something that is really just born from the difference in traditional values between the Omatikaya and Metkayina? The Sullys have you over for dinner all of the time but you practically grew up with their kids. Perhaps the Metkayina are far more particular about their private family dinners.

You can see it being a very sacred time for them when most dinners have to be shared communally as his father makes the rounds as Olo’eyktan and Ao’nung works to interact and gain favor as well. It would be rude of you to intrude. And by no means do you want to beg for an invitation either.

He’s not ashamed of you. This is merely your brain doing what it does best-overthinking.

You repeat that mantra in your head even as your heart aches and you sadly pack up your little picnic.

“They only come out during low tide but it’s a wonder all the same.”

Ao’nung can’t remember a time he has been more grateful for his little sister. She has a kind heart and often is kicking his ass back onto the right track but nothing beats her ability to fill the silence during awkward interactions. Usually this type of intervention is not needed at family dinners but it’s been a month since the last one and it’s clear in his parents demeanor that he did not give them enough information during the last gathering. With things so new, it did not feel like the right time to speak of you.

And as luck would have it, he’s not ready now either.

So Tsireya shows true devotion to her brother by babbling about her day to their parents in hopes of taking their attention away. Or at the very least talking enough so they don’t have time to get a word in and change the subject. Every pause she takes for a bite has Ao’nung’s tail curling with apprehension.

He picks up another seaweed wrap and takes a bite of his own. Because maybe, if he’s lucky, keeping his own mouth full will also steer conversation away from him. His stomach twists in response. This is the sixth wrap he has scarfed down.

“And the colors during the sunset were like anything else I have ever seen it’s-”

“That is good, my daughter.” Ronal cuts in and the breath in Ao’nung’s lungs still. He takes another big bite. “Ao’nung,” She spins toward him.

He should have known better than to think he’d escape tonight unscathed. His father may be contained by Tsireya’s rambling but there is nothing that gets in the way of his mother when she is on a mission.

“I hear you are still courting that tawtute.” The displeasure in her tone is subtle, he’ll give her that much.

“Yes.” Short and sweet before he is ripping into the wrap.

“And?” Tonowari leans forward, making sure to catch his eldest son’s gaze. Although his tone is more gentle, his father has just as much interest in the matter as his mother. Ao’nung swallows down the rest of his food.

“And…it is true.” Nonchalant, spoken with an attitude that is sure to earn his mother’s death glare but it will be worth it if it convinces them there is nothing left to tell.

Ronal’s eyes narrow into slits.

Another foolish hope.

“You are tight lipped with your own family.” She accuses him.

“There is no more to say.”

“Because your courting remains stagnant.” Ronal doesn’t so much as flinch when her son sends back the same look that had his friends cowering this morning. He had hoped to make it through the evening without getting into this once more but it will not do to let that accusation hang heavy in the air. His relationship with you is anything but stagnant. You’re simply shy, careful even.

His parents should be grateful that you test his usually fleeting patience in such a manner.

“She does not acknowledge your efforts.”

“Do not speak as if you know her,” Ao’nung growls. How dare she imply that you are indifferent to his devotion and love? She does not know of the gentle touches, tender smiles, and passionate nights that the two of your share. His mother could never fathom the gift you bestow upon him every time you welcome him with open arms and a bouncing stance as you wait to tell him any and everything that pings through your small head.

“Perhaps a meeting would help bridge that gap.” Tonowari suggests, but it falls to the wayside like a distant wave when his mother cuts back in. Her food is set aside this time, gearing up to sear her son with yet another talk that is bound to end exactly the last place he wants it to be.

“There are many women among the clan. If your courting with the tawtute is not yielding any further results, it may be time to explore other paths.”

Something slips between his fingers and Ao’nung looks down to find his wrap is nothing more than an explosion of fish and vegetables in his clenched fist. He disposes of it on a leaf, struggling to take the calming breath that his lungs so desperately need. Already he can feel his chest convulsing, throat burning with the ache to shout and spew whatever venom it takes to protect your honor and his own.

“Mother, I have no interest in those other paths.”

“You have not explored them properly.”

“I have,” he snips.

“You do not accept my help. Only arrogance and stubbornness showing as you continue to warp this alien relationship into what you desire and reject the perfectly good matches I have found-”

“You continue to speak of my future mate and our union in this manner and I will be forced to react with the same hostility.” A hiss kisses the end of his words, springing his mother’s ears forward and tail spiked on alert. Tonowari grows increasingly more anxious as Tsireya’s eyes dart back and forth between them erratically.

This has always been the way. Many have spoken of how he has adopted his father’s strength and athletic build but it’s his mother’s tenacity and hot headed demeanor that was planted into his very being from birth. Shaped him into that same creature that has matched her in a way that results in Tsireya curling into a ball and his father swiftly jumping in to offer diplomatic solutions.

“Only a child would mistake aid for attack.” Cerulean eyes heat with offense, Ronal shifting onto her knees as if getting ready for an attack herself.

Ao’nung’s tail whips against the floor. He mirrors his mother’s position but before another line of defense can be spoken his father is jumping between them.

“Mawey [be calm] , let us not get ahead of ourselves.” Tonowari lays a large hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Tiyawn [love/sweetheart],” he whispers. Ronal does not look his way but she does let out a long exhale.

Tsireya is stiff as a board next to him, big eyes darting between the three of them. When Tonowari turns to face his eldest son, it is with a desperation that his usual patience can no longer mask properly. “My son, we only want to know when you plan to introduce her to us.”

A smart man would take a moment to breathe, sink into his father’s understanding voice and think through his next words. However, Ao’nung is not that man, not when every fiber of him has already been plunged into defense mode and his mother’s clenching jaw shows her true opinion.

“When you plan to respect my future mate. Until I know that she is safe here, no one is meeting her.”

Ao’nung darts out of the marui before a hiss leaves his mother’s lips. He stomps down the woven walkways and ignores his father’s call for him. It feels as if the fire in his chest will push steam out of his ears at any moment. Watching his friends oggle you this morning was one thing but witnessing his own family question this courtship has him entirely uncontained. If he has to hear his mother talk about the matches she has picked out for him one more time, he’s going to start ripping his hair out. Which would be a shame considering how taken you are with his curls.

How could they be so unreasonable? His father claims to be supportive of the relationship but it’s near impossible to miss the light of hope in his eyes when Ronal presents another one of her matches to Ao’nung. He knows to expect this from his mother who was originally not a supporter of even the Sully family joining their clan, but from his father? He is the one who pleaded on their behalf. He is the one that speaks of unity and looking towards the future, the main reason he has let a camp of tawtute move onto their island. Did he not consider the consequences of doing so?

Who is he to speak of welcoming their allies when he can’t fight back disappointment at seeing his son courting one of those said allies?

Ao’nung draws the privacy curtain the moment he has stepped through the threshold of his marui [home]. Tsireya is bound to be trailing behind him and he is in no mood for company. If he can’t see you tonight then he doesn’t want to see anyone.

His hammock remains hanging with crumpled blankets and a few pillows from when you stayed over last night. Stomping over, he flops onto his back with a sigh. Something wedges at the bottom of his spine causing a grunt to release from his lips as he digs the object out. Barely peeking out from his clenched fist is the head of a small teddy bear. For a moment the knot in his chest unravels, followed by his grip so the fake creature is no longer strangled.

You must have left it behind by accident. What a shame you didn’t leave your precious bunny instead. At least then he would have your short visit to pick it up in the middle of the night to look forward to. Surely your presence could soothe him to a level where he isn’t grinding his teeth down to the root.

Ao’nung runs a thumb over the bear’s cheek. He hasn’t seen you since this morning. No doubt that is more than enough time for a silly story to pop in your head or another episode of your favorite show to have you ranting and rambling to him. Perhaps even more, you could provide a perspective that is far more forgiving to his family than his own. You never fail to baffle Ao’nung with your ability to see the good in everyone.

That is everyone, except for yourself. And that is exactly who this information would attack. He can see it now, the hurt edged into the fake smile you would force. That soft voice assuring him everything is fine while his family’s judgment digs a dark hole into your brain that he can not reverse.

No, he can not be selfish. What type of mate would he prove himself to be were he to expose you to that scrutiny just in the name of receiving your comfort? He is a warrior, a man of honor and strength. Surviving the disapproval of his family and judgment of his fellow clan members is nothing he can not handle on his own. And on his own it must be because there is no universe where he would subject you to such cruelty.

Tomorrow, he will continue forward in his courting plans. Regardless of his mother’s scheming and clan’s judgmental stares, he will put on that charming smile that makes your knees go weak and show you exactly why there will never be another man more perfect for you than him. Determination is a drug that Ao’nung feeds off of as he turns onto his side and mentally starts setting plans into motion.

Exhaustion takes him sooner than he would like, the teddy bear pressed against his nose so your sweet scent can soothe him to sleep.

Doubt is a persistent creature. For once it is fed, it continues to grow. The doubt that had only sprouted from a passing thought now sits in your throat at the size of a golf ball every time Ao’nung skirts you away from his friends. It grows tenfold when he insists on taking you to a secluded spot for breakfast together the next morning. Any other day the messy spread of fruits cut into what is supposed to resemble sea creatures would be enough to have you swooning. But instead your mind has spiraled to fixate the way he had mentioned a breakfast for ‘just the two of you’. Private, as always.

He says it as if it is a rare occurrence. As if every other outing you go on is not kept between the two of you, hardly venturing to even spend time with Tsireya and the others. Of course to be fair, you understand that part of that has to do with an overprotective Lo’ak who hasn’t stopped giving him the stink eye since the moment he found out the two of you were together.

It’s difficult to fake a smile during this special picnic. You’re sure it is only by the grace of Eywa and Ao’nung’s inexperience in reading tawtute expressions that gets you through it without raising flags. Besides, Ao’nung is different this morning. Far more caught up in showering you with kisses and making sure every piece of fruit is to your satisfaction. His ears perk and tail halts every time you pop another piece into your mouth. Eyes of crystal water stare at you with an anticipation that feels entirely out of place in Ao’nung’s sharp features.

In the weeks that you have come to know the future Olo’eyktan you’ve learned that there is hardly ever a moment where Ao’nung’s confident demeanor shifts. There are plenty of times where he is angry, frustrated, impatient, or even reluctantly giddy in the right scenario, but nerves are not a companion to him.

Today, however, he is chasing something. Hanging onto your every word. Brushing a broad hand tenderly up and down your thigh. You wait for that sensuous touch to travel higher, to push your panties aside and reveal what dirty thoughts have been plaguing him. But it finally comes to rest on your knee instead.

Disappointment wrenches in your stomach. With all of your racing thoughts lately it would be nice to have a moment where they float away. To bask in yet another moment where unimaginable pleasures bind you and Ao’nung together in a way that makes your heart melt and worries ride off in the wind. When your naked skin is pressed against his own and his hand leisurely travels up and down your spine while you both catch your breath, your reality starts to feel like a fairytale. And no matter how foolish it may be, you let yourself believe that Ao’nung is your prince charming, ready to take you away from the dragon in your own story.

It wouldn’t do you any good, however. There comes a time where you have to face the music. No matter how many times Ao’nung insists upon you staying at his place or presses chaste kisses to your hairline with a tenderness you never knew possible, it forever remains contained in private moments. This relationship does not venture outside of the bubble you have created, remaining nothing more than gossip among the clan.

“You’re not eating.” That gravelly voice springs you from the spiral of your thoughts. A piece of yovo [Pandoran fruit] cut into the shape a crippled ilu is pinched between his fingers and poised mere inches from your lips. His forehead scrunches and Ao’nung visibly swallows, a show of emotion that puts you on edge.

“Oh,” you squeak, clumsily biting from the piece of fruit. Trying to brush it off as another one of your daydreams taking over proves to be more difficult when that line between his hairless brows remains. Juice curves past the seam of your lips. Before you can wipe it away a turquoise thumb catches a droplet from your chin and slowly prods it against your lips.

There is no hesitation, mouth parting to grant him access. His thumb strokes down the center of your tongue, leaving a spark of flavor in its wake. Cheeks already burning red, you take a chance and swirl your tongue around the appendage leisurely. Memories of the last time you had him in your mouth spurt to life. He had wiped away your tears with his thumbs as you choked around him. All of it had been worth catching sight of the clan’s future Olo’eyktan unraveling beneath your small hands. Addiction is never something you had worried about until you had gotten a taste of him.

Ao’nung remembers too. When his thumbs pops out and lips press against your own, there is no question of where his mind has traveled now. He sucks the juices right off your tongue with a vicious snarl.

Is that what has him acting weird today? Perhaps he is craving more than what you have been giving him. Both of you have been creative in deriving pleasure from each other’s mouth, teeth, hands, even kuru. Ao’nung is nothing short of creative when it comes to getting you off without splitting you open. Your experience is far less but his reactions have always been enough to soothe any bubbling concerns about him being satisfied.

That is until now.

Because now when he pushes the ruffled hem of your skirt up and you straddle his hips, every manifestation of desire translates into something new in your brain. A low moan becomes a plea for something more. The hand in your hair that keeps you close is a tether towards what he has been patiently waiting for all of this time. Is this why Ao'nung brought you out here? Is it possible that these nervous ticks are simply showing his hesitation in asking to take things further?

If so, how long has he been waiting to do so? It’s no secret that he had a string of lovers before the two of you got together but the implications of such a fact is just now settling in. With Na’vi women there would be no reason to hold back from taking it all the way. Because unlike you, their bodies aren’t in danger of splitting in two if not done right. But Ao’nung knew this would be one of the complications of dating a tawtute. He had to know.

Or did he?

He’s never done this before. Hell, you’ve never done this before. The passion and excitement of such a foreign relationship was strong to say the least but had either of you really thought this through? If this is what he is asking now, are you ready to comply? To see what your body can take and pray that it will not break?

God, you’ve thought about it so many times! About how it would feel to have the length of him settled between your thighs. To have him fill you so completely until there is nothing else but him, only Ao’nung. Only the two of you.

But fantasy is far removed from reality. That is a fact you have always struggled to come to terms with. Just because the idea of it makes your thighs press together and the simple brush of his length at your hip makes you want to spread your legs wide, does not mean that the experience will be nothing but erotic. It’s scary as hell. Yet fear has never felt so enticing.

Ao’nung pulls back with a start, a string of saliva still connects your lips. Narrowed eyes squint past your shoulder. The sudden switch up has you twisting to do the same, heart still racing as your inner spiral continues.

Even from a distance Ronal is tall and proud in the foliage. She watches back without a single blink and it’s like having cold water poured over your whole body. Everything you thought about fear before goes out the window as you wish for nothing more than to hide in a hole until the bugs devour what is left of you and your humiliation.

Regardless, this is Ao’nung’s mother. You can’t avoid this conversation forever. If you hope to be in his life then you must acclimate to those around him as well. No matter how terrifying those others may be. Straightening your spine you go to wiggle off of her son’s lap with as much grace as one can muster in such a situation.

Ronal remains stoic with a basket of greenery on her hip and another healer running around oblivious behind her. Your retreat is cut short when Ao’nung suddenly clasps your shoulder. Eyes ablaze he steals your attention with a persistence that is unsettling.

“I want to show you something, tiyawn.” Exhibiting the same ease as setting a basket off of his lap, Ao’nung lifts you onto your feet.

“But your mothe-”

“Is busy and I have much to show you. Come.” He commands. Your feet tangle over one another when he snatches your wrist and practically drags you in the other direction.

Ao’nung shows you the tidal pools on the east side of the island. They are much like the ones he has shown you in the west, but he insists all the same. Or rather, he insists on avoiding his mother at all costs. He covers this sudden escape with pretty words and gentle touches that must be meant to disarm your suspicion. The Metkayina prince can be clever but today’s deception does not support such claims.

How long does he truly think you are going to go before realizing you are a dirty secret he hides in the shadows? A mark on his reputation and status that he is reluctant to face.

“Where are you, precious?” Ao’nung murmurs against the curve of your neck. Strong arms band around your waist as your back presses against his chest. He kneels behind you in a loving embrace but also as an anchor, aiding in a feeling of security as the tide moves in and out. Thankfully today is not one of the days he insists on acclimating you further to the water.

“Huh? I’m right here.” You rush out.

“No you’re not. You’re far away.” A few strands of his curls drop over your shoulder. “Be here with me.”

For a man that walks with the confidence of someone with the world at their fingertips and teeth sharp enough to debase his enemies, Ao’nung requires a surprising amount of attention from you. It has always been that way. Since the first day you shuffled into his marui with blushing cheeks for your silly stuffed bunny. Some days his demand for your touch and regard reminds you of an affectionate cat. Purring in your lap one minute and nails scrapping at you in retribution the next.

Perhaps that should give you some peace of mind. Ao’nung has never withheld his affection. In fact he revels in watching you blush and struggle to keep up with such intensity.

And yet….

“I just…” Your lips screw into a thoughtful pout. “I only feel bad that your mother caught us like that. We didn’t even say hi. Which honestly after being in that compromising position I doubt I would be able to get out more than a single word but I don’t want her to think that I’m rude for not even trying.”

“Precious,” Ao’nung mouths against your temple. “You’re spiraling again.”

The fond warmth to his tone makes your cheeks heat, even as the words do little to nothing in wrenching you out of that downward spiral.

“I know, but do you get what I’m saying?”

A low hum of consideration vibrates from his chest.

“It was my fault. I should have known she would be foraging from there today.”

“So you don’t think we should have said something?”

“No,” Ao’nung shrugs. “We would only annoy her.”

Your heart plummets to your stomach.

“Annoy her?”

“She does not wish to be bothered while working,” Ao’nung rephrases but the clarification holds no potency.

It would not surprise you to find Ronal to be the type of person who gets irked by someone interrupting her work, but she had stared. With that terrifying poker face she had halted her foraging to look at her son with a tawtute in his lap. That is not the action of someone wishing to slip under the radar undetected. There was something brewing in her.

Something Ao’nung was anxious to dodge.

She hates you. That concept is not unfamiliar to you. It has crossed your mind many times before, but in those scenarios you had always imagined Ao’nung rushing to your defense. That lovesick part of you had conjured stories of star crossed lovers and dutiful princes that abandoned status in the name of love.

Love.

Is that what is brewing between the two of you? Companionship perhaps. Affection, certainly. But could there be a universe where the Metkayina prince would come to love a human? If there is, it doesn’t seem to be this one. Tucked away from his life like a pretty trinket that is admired but never woven into his daily routine.

Ao’nung cares for you though. He has shown it in his own way time and time again. Why else would he watch movies in a tongue he doesn’t understand or take the time to teach you how to swim?

Still, you’ve always had a knack for letting your feelings get the best of you. They swell in your chest at the slightest trigger until they are spinning fairytales and looking at the world through the naivety of rose colored glasses.

And now, it’s not Ronal’s disapproval that threatens to break it all, but rather Ao’nung’s incessant need to keep away. To hide you in the shadows where no one can see this twisted tale.

“Aboslutely not.”

Ao’nung sneers at the garment as if it has personally offended him. In many ways it has with its outlandish ornamentation serving as yet another signal to what purpose this tewng [loincloth] is meant to serve. With vibrant sea grass of various colors curtaining the sides and small shells adorning the waistband, its one goal is to attract attention. Meticulously placed to catch the sun in certain lighting he would be a beacon among the other males, as if holding the title of future Olo’eyktan is not flashing enough for vicarious females this mating season.

“It is suitable.” Ronal hums, as if he never spoke in the first place.

“It is excessive.” He counters, nose scrunched in disgust. Ka’tali, the creator of said piece, doesn't so much as flinch. It’s not her first time watching the two squabble, nor does she cower away from Ao’nung’s harsh words like many others do. She has known him too long for that. A fact that she reminds him of often by recounting her favorite tale of Ao’nung’s biting phase he went through when he was three. There are still small teeth marks in the beams of his parent’s marui.

Her apprentice, however, shrinks slightly, eyes shifting back and forth between the tsahik and her son.

“Come sit, it will not take long to fix your hair.” Ronal calmly kneels atop one of the mats as Ka’tali joins on her right with a bowl of iridescent sea snail shell fragments.

Ao’nung’s spine straightens. Arms crossed over his large frame etches a stark silhouette against the sunshine pouring through the marui entrance.

“There is nothing to fix.”

Ronal is quick to notice the shift of his demeanor, slitted eyes scaling him up. However, unlike their dispute last week, she does not immediately go to crack down on her oldest son. Instead, her tail curls at her thigh and she patiently watches him fume.

“What is it going to say to the People to see their future Olo’eyktan haphazardly entering this mating season? Do you suppose they will be impressed with your lack of commitment and respect towards this event?”

His mother has always organized this event at the beginning of every mating season. With her commanding presence and deep rooted persistence, such events have always come easy to her. Every Na’vi of courting age attends, dressed in decadent wear and ready for a night of feasting, exuberant dancing, and scoping out their intended prey. Ao’nung already knows he will be the first to be hunted down.

Last year had been tolerable at the very least. In fact, for a few years this was an event he found himself looking forward to. But as his time to take over as Olo’eyktan has drawn near, so too have the thirsty women of the clan. Mothers push their daughters to start conversations with him. Flirty eyes snag him from across the dance floor. There is hardly a moment to breathe let alone think as clan members analyze his every move for signs of interest.

Fleeting nights of passion with women throughout the year is one thing. There are ways to navigate these flings without promising extended commitment. But everything changes during mating season. A simple comment can be morphed into declarations of love. One dance runs through the gossip chain until you two are said to be humping one another like beasts. The entire season has him walking on seashells, this event the crowning jewel of it all.

There are only two days left before his time of torture begins. Foolishly he had expected to miss mating season all together this year, since he would have his precious tawtute claimed and tucked into his marui. However, you’ve proven to be more difficult to woo than he originally thought.

And so here he is, once again frowning at a loincloth that looks like the entire reef threw up on it while dreading what is to come ahead.

The hair is new though. At least in the past his mother has let his curls be but that is where he draws the line.

“I will wear the ugly thing but that is it.”

It is Ka’tali this time that rises to stubbornly guide Ao’nung towards them with a grip on his elbow. “Do not be a child,” she rolls her eyes.

Although Ao’nung allows himself to be manhandled into position, he does put up a fight when a bone comb runs through his hair. With a hiss he veers away.

“Would your tawtute not appreciate the braids as well?”

Ao’nung pauses. He hates that he stops instantly at the mention of you. His mother knows she has struck a chord, and that only makes his blood boil more. However, the triumph in her eyes can not trump the small realization that she may be right.

You do enjoy his hair very much. You’re always touching it, playing with it, even sticking bows in it from time to time to tease him. No one else he would let within the vicinity of his hair so carelessly. Still, perhaps you have grown tired of his usual style. Is it possible that a change- even a small one- to his look may reignite your passion, get him some more traction towards winning you over for good?

He subtly eyes the bowl of shells. You do like shiny things. You have a little jewelry box full of sparkly things you adorn yourself with from time to time. Of course none of them come close to the necklace he made you. Perhaps you wished he wore shinier things too.

Jaw set tight, Ao’nung sits back and stares forward. He does not bother looking in his mother’s direction to witness her celebrate such a victory. He’s not doing this for her, it’s for you. Always for you.

A hand slaps the back of his head every time he hisses or squirms with impatience. The entire experience is torturous but nothing is worse than when he catches sight of a particular strand loose and realizes what he has done. That was once a braid you had woven into his hair. With hands so small the braid too had been miniscule. Such a tiny little thing against his head, no one would have noticed. But it had made you giggle, blush a little too as you reprimanded him for having wandering hands while you tried to concentrate.

And when he gets a peek at the lowering sun it becomes all too clear how late this stupid hairstyle has made him. Ao’nung had promised to meet you before sundown.

By the time he rushes out the sun is only a thin line over the horizon.

“If I have to take one more cold shower I swear to god this day will end in blood.” Sarah grits. With wild blond curls it’s no wonder she has always taken her allotted shower time seriously. Every now and then she lets you sew pretty headbands or bows for her hair. They slip out by the end of day with the amount of running around in the field and lab she does, but it’s a fun moment all the same. You take what you can get at this point.

And well, the human outpost has never been a hotspot for females, let alone ones that share your hyperfeminine interests. In that way you have always stood out like a sore thumb. It’s a miracle that you ever managed to scavenge a sewing machine from Hell’s Gate in the first place, otherwise you truly would be useless. Next to scientists, linguists, and those working to fix the divide between humans and Na’vi, sewing is your contribution. However small it may be.

Miriam leans back in the creaky lab chair to her right, face half engrossed in a cup of noodles. “I will help you in a second. Let me finish.” More of a mumble than anything coherent but Sarah rolls her eyes just the same.

You hadn’t planned on witnessing them bicker once more tonight but Ao’nung is late. So late at this point your head seems to turn in the direction of the door every thirty seconds without your permission. Surely whatever has held him up is important. It seems these days everything he does is. So you settle into the dank corner of the outpost and try to focus on being present with your friends instead.

“You do realize those have to be at least ten years past expiration now.” Sarah raises a brow, finally pausing from fussing over her hair.

“That’s what makes it a delicacy.” Miriam's wide smile, with part of a noodle peeking from the seam of her lips, is enough to even make you giggle, despite the pit in your stomach.

“That is disgusting,” you laugh, noise scrunching in suit.

“What’s disgusting is my hair after half a week of not washing it.” Sarah groans. She collapses into a chair, and with duct tape barely holding it together, it creaks under the strain. The outpost is run down to say the least. It seems that everything is held together by innovation and a few broken prayers. The wear and tear has only worsened since it was moved to the island.

With relations being so new with the Na’vi here however, there has been little that the Olo’eyktan has allowed you all to forage. Yet another reason the others have taken far too much interest in your budding relationship with Ao’nung. Influence is a hard commodity to come back, especially in a line so direct as the Olo’eyktan’s son.

Not as if it really matters. You can’t even be certain that what you have with Ao’nung is a real relationship. He hides you from his friends. He’s begun showing up later and later as his duties have increased. And every time you try to broach the subject he is quick to shush you with passionate kisses and proddings to ramble about movies or books that he has no real interest in.

You tuck your knees up to your chest, grateful for the white socks that separate you from the peeling leather of the old couch.

“I have only two days left to secure an invite and that means I need to look smoking hot. Not like my head has been soaking in fish oil.”

Miriam snorts at Sarah’s complaint but is far too engrossed in her last few noodles at the bottom of her styrofoam bowl to do much else.

Sarah’s chair spins suddenly in your direction, pinning you with an inquisitive gleam in her eyes. “Your boyfriend doesn’t happen to have friends with tawtute interest as well, does he?” Sarah brews with mischief. Her recent efforts to enchant Na’vi men have been entertaining to say the least. Still, your answer remains unpleasant to admit.

“I don’t really know.”

“They don’t make it very obvious, huh?” Miriam adds.

“I haven’t met any of them.”

Sarah’s grin falters and she fidgets in her seat. You haven’t spoken your concerns to either of them. At least not yet. Because saying them out loud makes them all too real. Besides, you always have a way of getting ahead of yourself. Whose to say this is not your own anxiety talking?

“Well if Sarah doesn’t land herself a date you’ll at least have to give us the scoop afterwards.”

Your brows knit together.

“The scoop for what?”

“The party, silly!” Sarah chastises with fluttering amusement. “It’s basically the fuckfest of the year and you have a royal invitation to it.”

“It is not called that,” Miriam rolls her eyes.

“It's a giant party where everyone dresses in lavish display and dances around a bonfire until someone jumps their bones. What would you call that?”

“It’s to kick off mating season you, dingbat. Not a trail of one night stands.”

“So fucking with some commitment,” Sarah shrugs. “However you say it, it’s still a wild party.” Turning to you again, there’s that glint of mischief once more. “Let’s just hope Ao’nung brings you back in one piece.”

The upbeat moment quickly dies down into an awkward tension the longer you stare back at them with a lost expression. Miriam’s laughter turns into a strained smile. Even Sarah seems to calm down from her lustful rant to stare back at you.

“He did invite you, right?” Miriam asks barely above a whisper, like a secret that no one wants to hear out loud.

Invite you?

Ao’nung didn’t find it important enough to even tell you.

Or perhaps you’re not important enough.

What was once a knot in your stomach now hardens into a boulder that presses at the enclosure of your ribs. You knew there was some sort of celebration coming soon but you figured it was another Metkayina gathering in honor of a successful harvest or beginning of a new season. Things that are entirely out of your wheel house and therefore none of your business. But mating season.

Dear god, mating season!

It changes everything. How could you have not seen this coming? You were so stuck in the throws of this romance that you had not even considered what would happen when mating season started. Would Ao’nung be attending this party? If so, would he not want to bring you along?

The intentional secrecy of it all is enough to have your mind spiraling to a million worst case scenarios.

“Wow we are such idiots.” Miriam forces a laugh, one that Sarah hesitantly follows. “He was probably trying to surprise you and here we are babbling about it.”

“Right! Yeah, totally. That’s what I would do if…I was Ao’nung…” Sarah finishes lamely, earning an elbow to her side. She sends a look back that says, what else am I supposed to say.

There are no magic words. And if there were, they would come from a certain Metkayina male who was meant to meet you almost an hour ago. But now here you are, finding out in front of your friends how little you truly mean to him. The lump in your throat is excruciating. The humiliation you feel now is a furnace that lights your skin red.

Still, you do what you do best. You fall into denial, push the tears and the fear back with a delusion that tells you he must have a reason. That perhaps he isn’t even going to this celebration. That maybe there is still a way that the Ao’nung you care for-the one that holds you at night and whispers sweet nothings-could still be somewhere in the Ao’nung that hides you away in shame.

“Yeah um…you’re right. That sounds like him.”

Their nods are far too eager. The awkward air between the three of you refuses to dissipate even as they fervently agree with you. It is only when Sarah insists on getting back to fixing the water heater that you feel a full breath enter your lungs. This spotlight is not one that you would have chosen. You used to think that being the main character in the story would feel glamorous and exciting but now it feels like being put under a magnifying glass. And you’re afraid that what they are about to observe is nothing more than a horrific ending to a story that would have you throwing a pillow at your tv.

“Okay, try it now!” Miriam yells from outside the outpost. You switch the nozzle over and Sarah desperately checks the water temperature for any signs of heating up.

“Wait, I think it’s actually worki-”

The entire showered head crumbles out from the wall, sending water spraying everywhere. You booth screech, hands flying out to stop the onslaught of sporadic water while scrambling towards the handle.

“Turn it off!” You cry, but when Sarah yanks at the handle it comes tittering off as well. Aggravation and desperation rise in toe with one another as you grab the handle and try to jam it back on while she tries sopping up the water. “What the fuck!”

At this point your teeth are grinding and if the water does not turn off this instant you will-

A fist suddenly whacks the handle back into place. Not just any fist, one that you would recognize in an instant with swirling turquoise skin and long fingers that have brought you more pleasure than you could have imagined. The tile around the handle cracks but the water stops.

Ao’nung curls over your back like a shadow eating you whole. His shoulders are comically bunched to fit through the doorway and his tail hasn’t even found a way to fit past the frame but Ao’nung still manages to bring a presence that is nothing short of intense. Sarah stiffens on your left, dropping the towels with a wet plop.

“Oh,” She gulps. “T-thanks.”

He only shoots her half a glance before leaning closer to you until it is a struggle to turn around properly and face him.

“I’m late.”

“Yes you are but…can you…” You push at his abs in search of getting at least two inches of space so you can wiggle out of this wet bathroom and awkward interaction. Typically Ao’nung doesn’t say so much as a hello to the other humans at the outpost, unless it is to ask for your whereabouts. Having this be the longest conversation with your friends present feels strained and after the news you’ve just been given, embarrassing. “Ao’nung I need to-”

Your huffing finally gets him to reel back. You wince when the back of his head bangs on the doorframe. Handsome features scrunched up in pain, he still doesn’t miss a beat in reaching out to pull you back into the hallway. The hand at your hip traces over your now soaked skirt. You had put together an adorable outfit, complete with a silky skirt and handmade corset but of course it’s soaked through and your heatless curls are plastered to your skin, thanks to a rampant showerhead.

Ao’nung sends one hard stare in Sarah’s direction and survival instincts have her leaving you two alone within seconds.

“I got caught up, sevin [beautiful/pretty]. My moth-”

“Did you change your hair?”

The difference is not drastic enough to catch your attention at first, still sporting a sort of half up half down style that Ao’nung is so insistent on. However, now there are thick braids woven along his curly hair from his temples to the back of his head where they intertwine and fall back into loose curls. Fragments of iridescent shells are embedded within his jet black hair to create a mesmerizing contrast. When they hit the light it shines a vibrant blue that makes his already striking eyes damn near impossible to look away from.

Lavish display, Sarah had said.

Ao’nung has never shown interest in changing his hair. In fact, he has adamantly gone against it. So could this change of heart all be for this mating season party? If so, this means he is not only going, but actively participating as well. And you’re here, in this metal box barely held together, kept completely in the dark.

“It is a little different. I thought that…well….” Ao’nung pauses. Ocean blue eyes flicker across every crevice of your expression as if each is a piece to a puzzle he must solve. The energy that was once there suddenly deflates as his tails lowers. “You do not like it.”

“No, of course not!” You immediately counter, before your voice lowers to something more genuine. “You look very handsome. As always.”

Handsome would be an understatement. Ao’nung is positively ethereal. From the very first day you saw him you were sure he had stepped out of one of your fantasy romance books, temptation and otherworldly perfection in the flesh.

It’s just…there is a sting that comes in considering this effort may not be for you.

Ao’nung gives a low hum, ear still dropped and eye skeptical as the words obviously do nothing to soothe him. For a moment his hairless brows scrunch together as if he is about to say something, maybe give you a nugget of the truth you so long for, but then that moment passes. He dampens down a sigh and gives back an ingenuine smile.

“I swear I looked cute before the shower turned me into a drowned rat.” Fingers sadly fussing with your soaked skirt, the joke doesn’t quite land. Especially when the male has no idea what a rat is.

Ao’nung’s shoulders drop and for the first time today, his lips curve up into a smirk that is sincere. Two long strides bring you chest to chest, or rather chin to abs. He runs the back of his knuckles along your cheek before slipping them back behind your ear to frame your jaw.

“You do not need frills and ruffles to entice me, sevin. I’ve been thinking of these lips all day.” He purrs and a jagged breath pushes from your lungs when his thumb swipes over your bottom lip. God, no matter how long the two of you have been together, you don’t think you will ever be able to stop yourself from melting at his touch. The butterflies in your stomach never subside. Ao’nung holds an intensity in everything he does that simply can not be dimmed. And you’re about to burn in his flames as a result.

When he ducks down to connect your lips, it is done with a fragility and tenderness that is somehow more terrifying than the days his desperation has you swallowed whole. Tonight, his tongue swipes over your bottom lip with a dedication that speaks to someone memorizing every second. As if he must ingrain the taste of you into his very being before it disappears.

You pull away with a start.

Lips still red and eyes on the brink of becoming glossy you desperately try to pull yourself together before the ten foot alien before you picks up on the spiral of your thoughts. You won’t cry in front of him, not for this. It will only show how weak you are to sob over something that hasn’t even happened yet. Over something that may very well be an invention of your anxious brain imagining worst case scenarios.

“Did I hurt you?” He cups your entire chin and jaw with one hand, fingers prodding slightly so that he can observe your plump lips and look for signs of damage. It wouldn’t be the first time his sharp teeth have caught you, however those times have always been intentional.

“No, no, I’m not hurt. I just was thinking…well I was wondering what you are doing the day after tomorrow.” It’s a miracle the words make it out with the lump in your throat currently suffocating you.

It’s your turn now to analyze every flicker of body language and expression to decipher his feelings. He is far better at hiding his emotions than you are but, there are still small signs. His left ear twitches and his thick tail curves down close to his calf. A line forms at the bridge of his brows and you can tell he is thinking through his next words carefully.

Perhaps Sarah and Miriam are right. Ao’nung, after all, does know how much you like surprises.

“Why do you ask?”

Not exactly your favorite thing to hear from your boyfriend when trying to make plans with him.

“Because I want to see you, silly.” The usual chipper in your tone is tainted. What spews from your lips next is born from pure desperation. “I thought we could have our next swimming lesson.”

Ao’nung’s hairless brows nearly shoot across his forehead. The tip of his tail curves upward and he watches you with a sudden interest that has you regretting the words entirely. Without answering, he takes your tiny hand in his grip and guides both of you out of the hallway and into your room. “You truly are becoming an exceptional student, precious.” Ao’nung chuckles while ducking through the doorframe.

He perches onto your bed without a care for the way the frame creaks. At this point the Metkayina male is used to making himself at home here. “Already looking for extra credit. Why the sudden desire to impress me?”

You’re pulled to stand between his parted legs, those glorious thighs bracketing your hips as his hands curve down your waist and rests above your backside possessively.

“You won’t shut up about how important it is,” you attempt to shrug it off. Your eyes won’t meet his, instead watching where you twist a few stray strands of his hair absentmindedly.

“It is important, sevin. And you know that is not just my opinion.” He chuckles before nipping at your jaw in teasing reprimand. But then he pauses and adds, “However my duties take me away that day.”

“I see,” your brain jumbles for the right way to broach this. “What type of duties?”

The response is less than satisfactory as he gives a shrug. “Hunting, patrol, a few things for my mother,” he lists and trails off with a shrug.

“Just the usual things?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.” Your feet scramble when the hand atop your bum pushes you closer. “But I am all yours tonight. Whatever you want to do, paskalin [honey/sweetheart].”

You are moments away from falling into that temptation. How much easier it would be to simply enjoy the time you do have with the Metkayina prince and sweep this entire issue under the rug. But you have to try something, just one more chance to see if your apprehensions are ridiculous after all.

“Okay, that sounds nice. Actually I forgot that Miriam wants to do a Star Wars marathon on that day anyways. I suppose if you’re busy, I will tell her I’m available.”

You plead for him to make an excuse. To say something, anything that would hint at this conflicting with his plans to surprise you but his response comes far too quickly.

“That sounds fun. I will miss you, sevin.” You barely register the kiss that is placed on your cheek. Because now you can’t help but wonder if these pretty words are nothing but that, pretty and empty.

And maybe he will miss you. Miss you while he is dunked into the throws of mating season and preyed on by every beautiful Na’vi woman in the vicinity.

Miss you while he lies.

Miss you while he cuts you off from his life entirely.

The second Ao’nung steps into the decorated cluster of mangroves he knows he has made the right choice not inviting you along. Naturally his mother has done an exceptional job of turning something ordinary into an atmosphere of enchanting excitement and allure, but nothing can erase the eyes that naturally fall on him. The heavy drumming and yips and yells that already ring through the forest feel like background noise against the pounding of his blooming headache.

Although the event carries wonders that he can already imagine your big strange eyes marveling at, it also comes with an onslaught of attention and judgment that is not for the faint of heart. Ao’nung has done this before, however. His entire life has been learning to live with the fact that others watch his every move and measure it against the ideals of a perfect Olo’eyktan. You are gentle and kind and trusting, though. And by no means deserving of being treated as just another measure of his aptitude as Olo’eyktan.

They would tear you apart. Teeth bared and eyes ablaze, it would be child’s play ripping into you in a way that he may not be able to repair even once you are tucked in his arms. No, this way he suffers alone. He faces the sharp teeth that await him tonight, even as they are lengthened by the fact that he has come without you by his side.

All it takes is making an appearance that is noticeable enough to be marked as present, before he can sneak away to spend the rest of the night with his nose tucked into your hair. He’ll even watch whatever by Eywa ‘Star Wars’ is with your little human friend as long as he can hold you close.

Roxto stands on the outskirts of the celebration. He keeps his distance but still observes with a curious tail and perked ears. It is no secret who he looks for. Leaning against a tree, he scratches the back of his neck and looks away every time the female that enters the party is not Kiri.

“Are you finally going to end my years of suffering and make a move today?” Ao’nung jests, joining his friend.

“I’ve made moves,” Roxto insists. “They may not be your style of courtship, perhaps a little more subtle but…” he trails off and peeks behind Ao’nung’s back. “Is your tawtute not coming?”

“Not tonight,” Ao’nung quickly brushes it off, but Roxto’s blue eyes have already taken on a sympathetic gleam. The type that one gives when watching a small prey moments before claws sink them to a fast death.

“Oh, brother.” He sighs. “I think you are going to need this more than me.” Roxto hands over his cup of pxir [fermented fruit/alcohol] but Ao’nung simply pushes it away.

“Don’t be dramatic. I will be in and out in no time.”

Roxto is nowhere near convinced but that is one thing that Ao’nung has always appreciated about him, he knows when to let things go. Unlike his other friends who are already waving him over from the other side of the clearing with mischievous smiles. He makes no effort to pretend he hasn’t seen them, instead just shaking his head with an annoyed expression.

“Drink up and go talk to her before I drag you over there by the tail myself.” Ao’nung shoves the cup back into Roxto’s hand and gives him a hard pat on the back. His curly haired friend nearly chokes on the strong liquor but after a few hits on the back and a couple comments to get going, he tentatively shuffles in Kiri’s direction. Ao’nung sends a prayer to the Mother above, on behalf of Roxto but he can’t get himself to stand and watch the awkward interaction.

Especially not when he has so much work to do here.

And work it is.

Every minute of the feast he is wedged between interested females and overboding parents who crowd close enough to have his shoulders scrunching together. Much like the dinner with his family last week, Ao’nung’s only escape from answering any and every inquiry is to shove his face with food. A tactic that his stomach is quickly growing tired of. He may be a man of great stature but he still can only eat so much before feeling as if he is about to explode.

When the questions and comments turn in your direction, all facade of politeness drops in an instant. He doesn’t say a word. There is no need, the pure ice in his eyes is finally enough to earn him some peace as a tense awkwardness settles. There are still whispers exchanged amongst themselves. It is unavoidable and with his mother shooting daggers at him from across the clearing, he can not afford any more stiff interactions to hush these whispers forever.

When the dancing begins, Ao’nung is at least afforded the opportunity to drown in pxir. It seems Roxto was right after all. His luck is far greater as he leads Kiri out into the gaggle of people to dance. His tail swishes with apprehension and his smile is sheepish, but Ao’nung recognizes the sparkle in Kiri’s eyes. Roxto may have too thick of a skull to realize it, but that woman is already his.

Tonowari gives his son a glance when he comes to stand beside him. His father is by far the most level headed person here now that drink has been passed around, and his mother is still on her manic mission to send every female she approves of in Ao’nung’s direction. As Olo’eyktan he stands in the chaos with a calm confidence that is admirable. He is steady and constant, without even having to say a word.

“This is not your place to stay,” Tonowari eventually says, low enough to barely weave into the cluster of sound. His eyes remain forward, making it clear that this conversation is meant to stay between the two of them without others catching wind of it.

“You’re here.” Ao’nung counters.

His father hums as if considering the words before he can no longer contain the amused twitch of his lips.

“Yes but I am Olo’eyktan. My job is to oversee, yours is to participate.”

“I will be doing the same soon. What is the difference in starting now?”

Firelight dances over the lines of Tonowari’s swirling tattoos. From a distance his broad frame and inked lines are enough to have both man and beasts cowering in his wake, but Ao’nung knows better. Beneath the armor that his father wears to protect his people and family, he has a softness to him. His teeth are nothing in comparison to his mother’s.

“The difference is you have yet to experience the privileges that come with being mated.”

And, oh how, Ao’nung yearns for those privileges now. Not just to escape the pestering and attention, but also to hold you in his arms and know that you are truly his. That your bodies and souls have been intertwined by the Great Mother above. To know that no matter what trials face him during the day, he will always find his way back to his precious tawtute, safe in a marui that finally feels like home with you there.

“Why did you not invite her?”There is no judgment in his father’s tone, just genuine curiosity, but Ao’nung bristles all the same.

“I told you. I’m not bringing her until I know it is safe.”

“Ao’nung-”

“What will it take to earn my leave from this farce?” Ao’nung cuts off his father’s sigh. He can feel those warm eyes resting on him now, but he only continues to scowl at the vibrant display before them.

Tonowari takes a moment to exhale through his nose. For a second it seems as if his father is not going to aid him at all. Then, through lips that hardly move he whispers, “One dance would go a long way.”

Ao’nung’s tail lashes as he looks out into the crowd. It is an interesting scene to observe. The contrast between males respectfully approaching females with an air of tradition and boundary next to couples that are already seconds away from humping each other in front of everyone. Even Neteyam has come to join in on the festivities, setting his sights on a pretty woman with long curls and a flirtatious smile. His little sister is of course accompanied by none other than his least favorite forest boy. That skxawng hasn’t missed a single opportunity to glare in his direction.

“Tsireya is occupied.”

“You know that is not what I mean.”

Ao’nung’s jaw sets tight. This night feels endless. If he doesn’t act now you may be asleep by the time he visits the outpost. It would be a shame to disturb you then, although he may very well be desperate enough to do it regardless.

“Son, you know that your mother and I only want what is best-”

“A dance it is then,” he clips back before marching into the storm.

At the rate you sew your machine may be on its way to an early death soon. You can’t find it within yourself to care as the needled bobs at a speed your eyes can’t recognize. Another line of stitching trails off into a half inch seam instead of five eighths. This is the only sanctuary you have. So long as you drown yourself in measuring, folding, pining, and almost stitching your fingers together every other minute, there is no space in your mind to think of anything else.

And that means no space to lead yourself back into another crying fit.

At least this way you are doing something productive. One could even call you sensible with this strategy and, god, how much you yearn to be that! Never in your life have you wished more to have logic overrule your heart. You think of all the wonderful heroines in your movies and how calm and decisively they handled their trials. Why couldn’t you have been born that way?

Truly you’ll settle even for a poker face, if not emotional immunity. Anything would be better than pushing down sobbing fits every other minute.

You pull the pink fabric out from under the sewing foot only to find that you have incidentally bunched the fabric together and sewed three layers together instead of two. With a screeched groan you aggressively grab your seam ripper and begin undoing the stitches one by one. This task is too simple. Monotonous yes,but far too simple to keep your brain occupied.

Of course it always leads you back to the same place.

You know where the celebration is. In a twist of cruel fate Sarah did, in fact, get an invitation through a Na’vi male she had charmed just yesterday, while your boyfriend, if you could call him that, had never extended one. You’re happy for your friend. You truly found some semblance of joy to be had while helping her get ready and adorn herself like a human sparkler.

Regardless, it cuts a wound deeper than you know how to reach, let alone heal. But it is because of Sarah’s invitation that you now know the whereabouts of this special celebration. That piece of information haunts you.

You’d never dream of crashing the party. Having those eyes all on you and knowing you are not welcome would be even worse than the ones that shown on you in sympathy as Sarah insisted she could get ready herself, scrap something together from her drawer of teashirts. Literal hell. That’s what it would be.

But taking a peak.

That’s a temptation you are finding harder and harder to combat. This is only a spell for disaster. You know this. That is why you started sewing the pink skirt in the first place. Still that evil voice at the back of your head is a vicious gremlin that refuses to quit. Watching would only guarantee finding a scene you hate to see.

Then again, perhaps there is a universe where you simply go to get a peak at Ao’nung’s outfit. If Sarah and Miriam’s description of the dress code is anything to go off of, his outfit as the chief’s son would have to be nothing less than spectacular. And what a sight that would be. Seeing Ao’nung dressed in pretty things for once instead of the other way around.

And if your one line of reasoning sprouts simply from curiosity, could it really be that bad?

You’re plunging the breathing serum into your arm before the spin of your thoughts can turn you the other way. The village is quiet tonight, so sparse and silent that it brings an eerie atmosphere. Only parents with their young children are in their maruis, most of them already with their fires burned out.

You have the entire walk to convince yourself to turn around and forget this ridiculous compulsion. Instead your mind works to illustrate happier endings to this quest of yours. By the time you reach the top of the hill overlooking the celebration, you half expect to not spot the Metkayina prince at all.

For a breath, you simply take in the charm of the scene before you. Bioilluminescent glow illuminates dancing figures. Homemade lanterns hang from the trees with shells that clink together in the night’s breeze. Every Na’vi of mating age is gathered in an explosion of chatter and chaos. One thing you have come to learn about the Metkayina is that they celebrate just as hard as they work. The heavy beat of drums melds with ecstatic yips and yells coating the night.

You may never witness a masquerade ball or renaissance gala in your life, but this celebration brings you in with the same dazzle. Giant ballgowns are replaced by strung beads swinging with every move. Decorum is thrust to the side in favor of wild frenzy and uncontained joy. And the dancing is far closer to the steps between predator and prey than anything resembling a quadrille. It is intoxicating to say the least.

You find him in the midst of it all.

Shells and seagrass adorn corded muscle, and for a second you are left to stare at the contrast in awe. That moment shatters when a slim hand skates across his shoulder blades. You can’t make out much of this woman’s face from this distance but her black hair sparkles in the moonlight and every step she takes is done with both purpose and ease.

They are among some of the few Na’vi who still participate in formatted dance while the rest spiral out of control on the outskirts. They create a spiral in the center, each pair moving in tandem with the others. Despite the coordinated moves, there is plenty of space left for freestyle, something this female takes full advantage of. When she goes to take his hand, the pads of her fingers run down the side of his bicep first, as if to guide her back towards facing him in the front from where she circles him. When they skate past one another her tail innocently brushes his own. Something that could be played off as an accident when accompanied with a mumbled apology and blush afterwards.

She has tact.

Along with beauty, grace, and surely a lineage that easily out competes that of a tawtute. Every muscle in your body locks into place. No matter how much your brain screams to run away and take cover from this devastating display before you, your eyes will not obey. It goes from tracking the elegant moves of the stranger to deciphering every flicker of Ao’nung’s body language.

You can’t see his face from here, not really. All that you can make out is a flash of white teeth every now and then. And that’s when it happens. She rises onto her toes to yell something into his ear over the music, and that flash of white turns into a broad grin. And when the fervent music halts for a beat you catch the flitter of his laugh.

There is no mistaking his smile now as her laughter only doubles when he stumbles for a step.

It is much like being plunged into freezing water. Like when you first dive beneath the river’s surface and there is a beat where your brain can not register the chill raceing through you. Neither can you process this chill. In an act of self preservation a part of you still clings to denial, the last place where there is safety.

But that crumbles once reality fully washes over you.

Ao’nung and this woman only become blobs when tears contort your vision.

Nothing worth mentioning, he had said.

In his eyes, does leaving to find a mate count as nothing worth mentioning to you? Was his plan to wait until he had set his sights on a suitable woman to court then cut you off? You would no longer serve a purpose for him then. And much like many of the other humans on this island, you would be nothing more than a symbol of reluctant alliance at best.

Because that’s what this has been the entire time, an agreement of sorts. He would get his fill and you yours, until he no longer needed you. You only wished you had known the terms of this deal before agreeing.

If you had known this was only a phase of fascination with tawtute, perhaps there would have been hopes of reeling yourself away from falling head over heels for him. Maybe then you wouldn’t have bugged him to pretzel himself into your small room and listen to you ramble about nonsense like an idiot. God, how many times did he patiently endure your shenanigans while waiting to get into your bed?

And the swimming lessons…

Was that done out of duty? Just another task as future Olo’eyktan since it would be bad to have a stupid tawtute drowning on his watch? Perhaps it was more superficial than that, a mere exercise to show that his skills range far enough he can teach even a sky demon to navigate these waters.

Thoughts running a mile a minute, it feels as if your skull is on the brink of busting open. Truly, none of it makes any sense when your tears are flowing and it feels as if a knife has been jabbed between your ribs. You don’t even realize you are running back to the outpost until you almost run straight into the door. Shoes catching in the mud you halt and wipe at the wetness along your cheeks with the back of your hands.

You may not have the ability to be stoic or brush these feelings off lightly but the last thing you want to do right now is let the others see you crying your eyes out. You’ve already taken enough humiliation for one night. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you swing your hair over to create a curtain hiding half of your face.

The one mercy you receive is making it down the cramped hallway without running into anyone. Once you’ve jammed your door shut and listened to make sure no one is passing by, you finally let yourself break. Instead of muddling through the logistics, excuses, or stories you’ve created to bandage this wound, you allow the worst case scenario to finally exist.

Like a volcano kept at bay for far too long, you erupt.

Sobs ricket up your throat like waves against the shore, constant and unyielding. You allow yourself this grace. Tonight you cry about it, let it all out before figuring out tomorrow how the hell you are supposed to navigate this whirlwind.

Sliding down the door until you can sit and tuck your knees to your chest, you grab a pillow to muffle your cries. How could you have been this stupid? Even now, you cling to denial. There never would have been a way to be around him and not fall. You’re powerless against every side that Ao’nung has shown you. Those blue eyes had snagged you from day one but his tender care is what had nailed your coffin shut.

You always would have loved him. That is what you do. It’s who you are.

You yearn and love and pour every piece of your heart into your world. From things as big as the people you love to the small trinkets you treasure. It is all or nothing for you, regardless of what is given in return.

But you could have loved him from afar. That mercy, he could have given you. He would be an exciting idea, or occasional presence that had your heart pumping. But you would have survived it because you would have never known what it would feel like to have his lips against yours, to hear his laugh, to feel large hands hold you tight yet careful as if you are something precious that could crack.

Precious

You never would have known what it would be like to be precious to him.

And in return you never would have come to see that he too is precious in his own way. A person that may be harsh and beautiful on the outside, but holds a complex inner world that is softer than he ever would care to admit. Because much like you, Ao’nung cares deeply. His heart is protected by clipped words and the demeanor of a man who holds all the confidence in the world, but it’s there all the same. In tender moments he has shown it to you.

Or rather, you thought he had.

And without that delusion, perhaps you could have survived loving him.

A frustrated growl rumbles in Ao’nung’s chest as his fingers continue to pick at the thick braids. It seems his mother and Ka’tali had attempted to embed these braids into his very skull. What a waste that had been. All of that torment just to experience your indifference towards it. Note to self, don’t mess with something that works.

He won’t make you face it again, no matter how badly he wants to skip this ordeal in favor of rushing to the outpost and drowning in your scent until this whole night has become a distant memory. His mother had graciously let him take his leave after dancing with Rasula, but that did not guarantee his early exit would grant him time to see you. Some nights you tuck into bed early in the name of beauty sleep. A silly notion considering you look just as beautiful when your eyes are struggling to stay open and your rambling becomes just mumbles against his shoulder.

By Eywa, these braids need to come out now!

No longer caring about the pain at his scalp, Ao’nung claws out every woven braid and shell until his curls are finally falling free once more. Tossing his head over he shakes out his curls upside down and lets out a sigh of relief.

His dance with Rasula may have bought him freedom for the rest of the night but that did not mean he made it out without getting dragged into a conversation with his mother and her before. Rasula is one of Ronal’s top picks. She makes no effort to hide her approval, giving Ao’nung a prompting look every time she points out one of the female’s exceptional qualities or talents. Rasula is not an undesirable woman by any means, even funny at times when the moment strikes her, but it’s near impossible to even feign giving her attention when only you run through his mind.

Ao’nung throws the ridiculous loincloth into the corner of his marui before slipping on a plain green one. Going alone tonight may have been torturous but at least you never had to see him in that ridiculous get up. He doesn’t wait to finish his hair before practically sprinting to the outpost. He receives wayward glances from passing Na’vi as he messily ties his hair up into a bun while moving at a frantic pace, but most of them are far too drunk now to have hopes of remembering this in the morning.

The outpost has so many ridiculous doors and chambers he has to get through before tangling a mask around his neck and stomping down the hallway. Your door is closed and no light filters from underneath it. Perhaps were he not slightly tipsy and desperately seeking your presence, he would have the courtesy to let you sleep but Ao’nung is too far past that now. His ears perk when a strange shuffling comes from inside.

So you’re awake after all. At least a little, and after the day he has had that is good enough for him.

You’re going to scold him for not knocking, as you taught him too, but even the thought of receiving your ire has excitement twisting in his stomach. Except….the handle doesn’t twist. Not the way it is supposed to at least. His tail swats in irritation as his brows furrow.

Your door is broken. Well it was only a matter of a time. Considering the state the outpost is in, it’s surprising it has made it this far.

The shuffling on the other side of the door increases tenfold. Your little footsteps are frantic and clumsy, his sweet tawtute already rushing to greet him. Fuck, he is going to eat you up!

But then, that shuffling continues and your door doesn’t pry open.”Precious,” He calls.

“Don’t come in!”

Ao’nung rolls his eyes. You and your modesty. He’s seen everything before, yet you still swat at him when he watches you dress. “Your door is broken.”

“No! Wait! It’s not just…hold on!”

Jamming the door open through force is beyond tempting but there is a small chance you would be on the other side of that collision, so he reluctantly waits for you to stop rustling around and give him the all clear. Maybe if he has to break the door down you will let him fix some marui drapes over the doorway in its stead. Better yet, this could be your wake up call to stop being stubborn and finally move out of this metal box and into his marui where you will be comfortable and safe.

“Sevin, step back from-”

“Wait! Wait wait wait!” There is a clicking sound before the doorknob magically twists and you swing it open a sliver.

Your eyes shine extra bright tonight and your nose is slightly red. It’s endearing…that is until he notes a puff of powder beneath your eyes. He swipes a thumb over it and you immediately recoil.

“Ao’nung I-I can’t talk right now. Come back later.”

“Why?” He presses on the door gently but you keep it in place, only allowing him to get a glimpse of you.

“I’m um, I’m not feeling well.” You rush out.

Something is off with you, that much is obvious. Has the demon blood come back already? No, it can’t be. You’re on day fourteen of your cycle, he’s been diligent in updating his tracking chart for this.

“You are sick?”

“Exhausted really, it’s fine. I just…” your throat bobs as you swallow back whatever is bothering you. “I just want to sleep.”

“Understood,” Ao’nung nods before pressing the door the rest of the way open. You squeak and fumble to get your footing again as he ducks through the doorframe, but then you are blocking his path.

“Alone. I meant alone.”

Something ugly writhes in his chest. The last time you had demanded to be alone it had been due to the demon blood curse, an issue that had only required some explanation before you finally let him hold you through the pain. But tonight there isn’t blood, surely he would smell it by now. And your tawtute friends isn’t even here, watching Star Wars anymore, so what other reason would you have for saying no? You always sleep so peacefully when he has you sprawled out across his chest.

You prefer it. You’ve told him yourself.

“Alone…” Ao’nung echoes, as if tasting the word on his tongue will suddenly have it making sense.

“Yeah alone, I just…” that sinfully soft bottom lip gets trapped between your teeth. “I’m going to watch some movies to help sleep and I don’t want to keep you up. So if you-” You manage to bully him one step into the hallway.

“That is fine.”

“No seriously! It’s just going to keep you up and-”

“I am a deep sleeper.”

“It’s really for the best this way and-”

“Precious,”

“You must be exhausted after the party,” you rush out and Ao’nung’s tail freezes midair.

“You heard about the celebration.”

“Yes,” you won’t meet his gaze even when he ducks down to close the gap.

“Sevin, I wanted to invite you but-”

“I know. I understand.”

That makes him pause.

“You do?”

Despite his incredulous tone, Ao’nung prays that there is relief to be found in your rushed words. After all, this secret has weighed as heavy as a boulder on his shoulders, something he has endured simply out of necessity, but maybe he hasn’t had to.

“I do.” Your nails pick at the hem of your sweater mindlessly, but that fidgeting gives nothing away.

“If you had come it would have made things…difficult.” He squints as he tries to think of the right words to explain it. After all, how can you tell your intended that not only your mother, but half the clan, disapproves of your relationship with her? It would break your sweet little heart.

“You don’t have to explain it to me, I already understand.”

By Eywa, who told you? Whoever it is will have their throat ripped out by his dull nails. All of this effort put in for nothing. No wonder you are sitting in your room sulking with sparkly eyes. Ao’nung was meant to protect you from this. Still in the middle of courting you, the last thing either of you need is for you to feel shamed and cast out by his inner circle.

But Ao’nung doesn’t know what you have heard. If Eywa is merciful, it was some passing comment, creating a shallow wound that he can patch up before you’re too distraught.

“I see,” he rubs at his jaw while conjuring the right words. “The people are stubborn at times, precious and-”

“I really am tired. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod, a stray strand of hair falling over your face. You look so fragile like this. Gorgeous and entirely undeserving of this backlash. For a man meant to be proving his ability to protect and provide, he is surely doing an awful job. How is he supposed to make this up to you?

“What are you going to watch? We could do that um…how do you say it…Birbie-”

“It’s ok. I’m just going to sleep. You should too.”

A small hand just barely presses at his arm but the message is clear enough. You are kicking him out.

“Alone,” he echoes once more.

“Alone,” you confirm and he’s finally not blocking the door anymore. If only that ridiculous door had been broken after all. Then he would have an excuse to pry it off its hinges and dispose of it.

“I understand.” It’s a lie. None of this makes any sense. If you are hurting he should be the first person you seek comfort in. Mates are meant to support one another through hardship. Has he truly failed so horribly that you won’t even view him as a potential mate anymore?

His back teeth grind as a line forms between his brows.

“Alright. Goodnight, sevin.”

“Goodnight.”

Ao’nung veers forward but then the door slams and that is it. He blinks once. Twice.

You didn’t even give him a goodbye kiss. Of course that was a tawtute tradition that he originally found silly but now you’ve trained him to expect it.You are the one who insists on its importance, so Ao’nung waits a beat. He waits for you to open the door and ramble some silly apology about forgetting.

He is met only with silence in this dank hallway, a flickering light, and a whisper of your lingering scent. Rubbing the back of his neck, he slowly trails down the hallway, giving your door one more glance before slipping out.

It's a cliffhanger, I know

Part 2 will be up very soon but in the meantime please let me know what you think! Hearing from you lovelies always motivates me to keep creating and sharing<3

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