synopsis: jake can’t help falling when a cute na’vi girl who barley speaks two words in english takes an interest in him
tags: fluff, friends with feelings, broken English
wc: 1.7k+
a/n: prompt 28 for pandora in bloom by @junebugonjupiter - “thank eywa you’re awake, i couldn’t wait-” (i didn’t put the exact quote is that okay guys 🥹)
a/n pt.2: guys past and present tense don’t exist in my realm of living, you get what u get. FUN FACT when I started nursery all i could say was my name and toilet in english😛 bet my teachers were having a field day figuring out what i wanted
The life Jake was living was not one he had expected for himself.
He didn’t expect that he’d be on a moon 4.65 light years away from his home. Didn’t expect that he’d be able to walk on his own two legs again. Or even be a big blue alien that’s nine feet tall.
But most of all he didn’t expect a sweet Na’vi girl to become his closest friend.
You’re incredibly cute to him. Smile always bright and body radiating sunshine everywhere you went. When you see him you come running over and give him a hug, immediately starting a conversation with him in a language you really struggled to speak and understand. It made him want to pinch your cheeks and squeeze you till you popped, something humans called ‘cuteness aggression’.
When you first met him, you were hesitant. Naturally. Everyone was. A dream walker had made his way into your clan and caused a slight disruption in the peace. So you stayed away.
But then he almost ran you over with his pa'li (direhorse).
He had jumped of quickly, helping you up from the ground and apologising profusely, the word 'sorry' leaving his mouth multiple times.
It took your brain a minute to understand what was being said, the language being something you hadn't used in a long time, but you only laughed it off, telling him in Na’vi ‘it’s okay, you’re lucky you’re cute’. And of course he didn’t understand, but he smiled and laughed with you anyway.
You both became close quickly after that.
It started off with simple hello’s when passing by, or good nights when he purposely walked past your hammock. Then he’d actively seek you out during the day, sitting beside you at breakfast, then lunch and dinner. You didn’t see him much other than that, he was always with Neytiri, the Olo’eyktan’s daughter, learning the ways of your people.
It wasn’t long before you in turn started seeking him out too. Finding him before he usually went to bed just to catch up with him about his day, or ask him what he had planned for tomorrow.
The language barrier between you was incredibly strong, but somehow you understood each other.
A month into his stay and Jake sully was your best friend.
Jake was still in his hammock when you reached him early in the morning, presumably asleep, or as he'd explained to you (or asked Neytiri to translate to you), in his human body.
It was an 'off day' today, which meant that everyone was off of work and could do whatever they wanted, and you obviously wanted to spend your day with Jake as the Oloeyktan’s daughter wasn't obligated to give him a lesson.
He usually showed up when the sky was at its brightest, so you rushed off to breakfast and brought back a portion for yourself and for him, before sitting on the tree branch above him and starting your meal, listening to the animals chirp and roar.
You had so much you wanted to do with him today, your excitement making you restless as you kept glancing down at his hammock waiting for him to wake.
You needed to feed your ikran first, so you were going to fly her down to the lakes at the edge of the forest so you and her could fish. Then in the evening some of the other na’vi your age were having a party and they allowed you to bring your new friend.
You were going to bring him regardless, but you found it very nice they wanted to include him.
All you had to do now was figure out how you were going to tell Jake this stuff without it sounding like absolute gibberish.
You had just placed the last bite of your breakfast into your mouth when Jake’s hammock opened up, his arms stretched above his head.
He jumps when he feels a body land right in front of him, ur face coming into view as you shove his breakfast in his face. “Thank Eywa you wake, you too long, yom (eat).”
“Well good morning to you too.” He chuckles, taking the wrapped food from your hand and very slowly beginning to eat.
“Morning, yes,” you nod at him in a quick greeting, then immediately start trying to form coherent sentences, “okay, today, no work.” He nods at you to show he’s listening and understanding, and you continue.
“You,” you place a hand on the top of his chest, between his collarbones, “with oe (me).” You then place that same hand on your own chest, and again he nods.
“We go on my ikran, toooo eh.. ‘ora. You know?” The poor man had a very confused look on his face, but non the less nodded and gestured for you to continue. “Where the fishes, you know?” And this time he nodded confidently.
“Yes, ikran eat. Makrr (later), in night, awnga (we),” you gestured between you both, “go pongu (party) with friends.” Again Jake nodded, but you could see by his facial expression that he didn’t quite understand that last part. Your only solution was to act it out, so you started imitating music with your mouth and shimmying your shoulders, your best attempt at translating party.
His loud laughter cut through the silence of this part of the home tree, and your hands were immediately on him shushing him. “Jake! Shhhh! Loud!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Ngaytxoa (sorry).” His laughter turned silent, but his shoulders were still shaking as he doubled forward. “You’re funny, errr Hiyìk (funny).”
After staring at him, you too began to giggle.
“Säpi (hurry) Jake.” You reach your hand out and take the food from his hand, shoving what was left into his mouth and immediately standing up and dragging him with you. “Ikran hungry.”
You heard him cough lightly as you dragged him down the tree, but you didn’t stop to check on him, too eager to see your ikran.
So like he found himself doing a lot recently, Jake let you drag him along, a hidden smile on his face, and had one of his favourite days ever.
By the time eclipse passed, both your smiles were bright enough to replace the sun and light up the whole of pandora.
Your day had gone slightly off track. After heading to the lakes, instead of the original plan of quickly fishing and returning straight home, you had both instead decided to go for a swim (you pushed Jake in, he didn’t actually have a choice in the matter).
After that you found out that no one had ever taken him to the Ayram Alusìng (hallelujah mountains) and you couldn’t pass up an opportunity on sharing their beauty with your friend. You arrived late to the communal dinner, but either way you took the food and sat up in the trees munching and talking.
Now you were dragging him (again) through the forest and further away from home tree, hands intertwined. “Säpi Jake!” You whisper shouted, the sound of upbeat Na’vi songs becoming louder.
“I am! I’m coming.” You both ran through the trees, watching as they reduced and a clearing full of already drunk Na’vi’s came into view.
You slowed down to a walk, your grip on Jake still tight, and lead him straight to the drinks your friends had made. “Okay,” when you reached the table, you turned to him and intertwined your other hand with his. “This, drink. Like ehh alc-ohool.” Jake grinned and nodded, looking over at each one as you pointed them out and explained what was inside as best you could.
“Okay, Oe new fì'u 'aw (I want this one),” you pointed at yourself then at the drink, “and you?”
“I’ll have the same please lor (beautiful).” You blushed slightly at the new nickname, especially because he had specifically asked you to translate it for him.
When you poured the first drinks you both finished them quickly. You had taken Jake around to meet all your friends and took it in turns getting drinks for each other. Before anyone knew it, you were both incredibly drunk.
“Okay! Okay oe kame (I understand)! I dare you, jump!” Jake leaned on you and laughed, shaking his head.
“No, no! It has to be bad ones like… I dare you to take your tweng (loincloth) off and jump in the lake.” You gasped loudly at his dare, slapping your hand over his mouth. Your head swivelled around to make sure no one heard what he said.
“Kehe (no) Jake! Rude!” But Jake only laughed louder, shaking his head at your childlike innocence.
Later you both ended up on the makeshift dance floor, Jake teaching you his Sky people dances and you teaching him the dances of the Na’vi. “No, no you’re too stiff, you need to move smooth like you have no bones.” Still you didn’t understand any of his movements, none of them had meaning and in all honesty he just looked a bit silly.
As the night went on your energy increased. Other Na’vi joined you in your dances, then very quickly left when Jake and his human-ness joined. You climbed trees as a challenge to see who could get the highest drunk, then raced to see who could get the furthest without tripping.
The whole evening was just a replica of your afternoon, but drunk.
Eventually though, the high faded, and you and Jake were left slumped against a tree. “Oe (I’m) tired Jake.”
“Me too.” He groaned, leaning off the tree and instead onto you, head on your stomach. “I had a lot of fun with you today though, irayo (thank you).”
Your hand came to rest on his head, three fingers sliding through his hair. “Kehe (no) Jake no thank,” then you took a deep breath, “I had fun with you too.” He lifted off of you and turned to look at your face, smile bright.
“Oh my gosh that was perfect.” You smiled proud and shrugged. You wanted to say it even if you struggled. You didn’t mind struggling for him. Then very quickly your smile vanished. Jake had leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.
You felt your face light on fire and your eyes widen. “‘Upe (what)…” But Jake only shrugged, his grin teasing, and lay his head back on your stomach.
You fell asleep against the tree that night, but the only thing on your mind was Jake Sully had kissed me.
Pandora in Bloom Event:
13. Berry picking/Ripe fruit, 22. First time parents, 39. Pregnant reader
Word count: 1.4k
Pairing: Tsu’tey x fem!pregnant!reader
Description: Tsu'tey finds you to give you a rare gift.
Content Warnings: Pregnant reader
Author's note: Based on this request! And a conversation Finnie and I had about Banana fruit!
You plucked a ripe Yovo pod off the short tree and immediately peeled the skin off of the fruit, sinking your teeth into the purple flesh on the inside. Juice ran down your chin, but you found yourself not caring. There was no one else out here, but you, and the fruit refreshed you after foraging in the afternoon heat for so long.
You found yourself discarding the remnants of the skin and leaves from the first fruit in order to grasp a second one. Your toes dug into the soft dirt below your feet in delight as you consumed this fruit as well. This was exactly what you had been wanting all day, this plant was surely sent by Eywa herself as a gift.
You smiled, reaching for a handful of the small fruits and starting gathering them into the woven bag hanging at your side. These would be a delightful food for you to snack on throughout the rest of the day. Your cravings were fickle, but you had been wanting Yovo for a while, maybe this would be enough to satisfy you for now.
“Are they good?” the voice cut through the peace of the forest and startled you.
You flinched, dropping the fruit in your hand, and immediately whirled to find your mate leaning against a tree watching you with a smirk on his face.
“Tsu’tey,” you groaned, going to pick up what you had dropped.
“Eh, kehe (no),” he tsked, rushing forward to put his hand out, stopping you from bending down.
“I am not fragile,” You reminded him as he kneeled down to hand you the fruit. His Olo’eyktan mantle brushed your legs, the feather-like plants it was made of tickled your skin.
“No, but you are pregnant with my child. You can allow me to pick things up for you,” he insisted. He looked up at you from where he still was on his knee in front of you and your heart melted.
“Fine, thank you,” you relented, putting the fruit in your bag as he stood up.
Your hand found Tsu’tey’s as if it was a magnet pulled in by the flux vortex. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were on patrol?” you asked.
He shrugged, “I was, until I found this,” he held up the object in his fist that you had not noticed until now.
You gasped, hands going to take the elongated fruit from him, “Utumauti (banana fruit)? I have only found one once in my entire life. Tsu’tey, this is a blessing,” you beamed, studying the fruit before pushing it back into his hands.
“No, it is for you,” he explained, holding it back out to you.
Your eyes widened, “Oh no, I could not take it,” you said, holding out your hands. “Eywa meant for you to have it.”
He shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips and making his canines glint in the sun. “Perhaps she meant for the baby to have it,” he corrected, pushing your hair away as a gust of wind blew strands onto your forehead which was sticky with sweat.
“Tsu’tey,” you whined at his selflessness. “She showed it to you, I cannot take what was not given.”
“Well, I am giving it to you now,” he smiled at your stubbornness, a trait you both had in common and your baby would undoubtedly inherit as well.
“I am still not taking it. How did you find me out here anyway?” you asked, brow lowering over your eyes in suspicion.
His head reared back in mock surprise. “I am an expert tracker and hunter, you think I could not find my wife? I picked up your trail, and eventually your scent, a while ago,” he told you smugly, beginning to break open the soft skin to get to the fruit inside.
“What?” you scoffed, but the smile on your lips did not match the chastisement in your tone. “You cannot use your talents to spy on me, Yawnetu (beloved)!”
“I am not spying on you! I was looking for you and I found you. Is that so steep an offense?” he huffed, good naturedly, knowing you were not really upset with him.
“I suppose not, especially if you have such a prized gift to show me,” you pursed your lips, looking down at the fruit that was still in his hand.
He offered up a chunk of the fruit after breaking it off, “Here, it would be cruel not to give it to my mate. I want you to have it,” he insisted.
“No!” You groaned, “Please, eat it. You work hard.”
He scoffed, “You are growing our child, you are working harder,” he argued and you sighed.
You frowned and looked down at his hand as he waved it between you. “I will only eat it, if you also have some,” you mediated and his eyes narrowed, thinking over your offer.
“Fine,” he agreed. You smiled and finally took the fruit from him, letting the sweet flavors settle on your tongue.
“Good?” he asked, his brow lifting as you nodded vehemently, eyes widening at the taste of the fruit you had not had in years.
“Very good. Eat,” you encouraged him, waving him on as he shook his head in amusement. He took some for himself, pressing it between his lips and humming in contentment at the perfect ripeness of it.
You smiled at the happy look on his face, before he handed you the rest of the fruit,
“For the baby,” he explained and you rolled your eyes at his persistence. You took it anyway, growing weary of trying to argue with him.
You popped the last of the fruit in your mouth, chewing it carefully before saying, “Thank you, I believe your son likes Utumauti.” You watched his reaction carefully and were glad you did.
His eyes bugged out before he stilled completely. “My son?” he asked slowly.
You nodded, not able to tamp down the dazzling smile that made its way onto your face. “It is a boy,” you stated.
For a moment, his smile was blinding, but froze when he said, “How do you know?”
“Norm and Max were able to do the examination they told us about,” your words faltered as his face fell. Your hands caressed your stomach as you continued, “I know you said you did not like human medicine, but I wanted to see. I am sorry if you did not want to know, I should have asked you first before telling you,” you said, rethinking even telling him about the strange monitors and devices the humans had hooked you up to this morning.
You had meant for the news to be a surprise, but it was just dawning on you that Tsu’tey may not be pleased with you or with letting humans around your baby with their strange metal.
He nodded slowly, mulling over the news. “Did you want the exam done?” he asked,
You bit your lip before saying, “I did, I am glad to know what we will be having,” you confessed, suddenly feeling bashful, looking down to your round stomach as your hands ran across it.
Tsu’tey’s knuckle found your chin, tilting your gaze back up to meet his. “If you wanted it done, then I am glad you had it done,” he said simply.
“Really?” you asked, a smile breaking across your lips like lightning.
“I am not pleased that you felt you could not tell me, or that you thought I would be angry, but that is my fault. I know that you are uncertain with how this new journey will go, but do not forget that I am also on this path with you,” he said. His hands found either side of your face as he continued, “I am here every step of the way, even…” his face screwed up in distaste, making your brow raise at his next words, “if you want human medicine,” he assured you.
You sighed, “I did not tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise,” you explained and his eyes softened further.
“That is a beautiful surprise, thank you,” he said, thumbs brushing over the skin under your eyes. “A boy,” he murmured with a smile.
“A boy,” you agreed.
“You will be a wonderful mother, Paskalin,” he affirmed, resting his forehead to yours.
You grinned, “And you, a wonderful father. Our baby will be blessed.”
He closed his eyes, smiling fondly before he opened his eyes again. “Eywa has smiled down on me, and I do not mean for the fruit,” he teased. “That was nothing compared to the blessing I received when I met you.”
Description: Your family of three joins in celebrating the first night of a multi-day festival of peace. You and Jake don your warpaint and battle regalia to sing, dance and remember the blessings of living in harmony as one body in Eywa.
Word Count: 4.8k
Content Warning: takes place between movies 1 and 2, mostly fluff, reader replaces Neytiri, reader and jake are parents!, OC baby boy, kissing hehe, reference to war/battle, reader is not described but is referred to as mom and woman, Neytiri and Tsu'tey are mates and he is Olo'eyktan (let me know if there is anything else!)
Author's Note: i made up Tsam Lefpom (peaceful war) and the festival, by the way ! and jake and reader’s baby is named Ta’em (meaning “from above”) mostly because it sounds like Tom ! but you can imagine it’s ‘Teyam for Neteyam if you so desire !!! i also apologize for the very subpar Na’vi 🫡 particularly in the song i also made up.
i wrote this for the magnificent @junebugonjupiter’s Pandora in Bloom event/challenge.
Prompts: 12. Summer festivals & 29. Braiding hair
thank you for beta reading this, as well, June, and for all your help and feedback !!! you are invaluable to me, twosin ♥️
Na’vi to English Translations can be found at the end of the fic !
divider by @honeyluvsw
The sleeping baby on your chest was growing much too large for his prrsmung (baby carrier). You smoothed a hand over your little one’s head, sighing and regretting the frustration you’d felt toward him for the past hour. His chubby fist now rested just below your shoulder and you had pushed aside your necklace so his head could lay comfortably against you. His legs rested on your thighs as you sat on the woven floor of your kelku (home).
Too curious for his own good and only interested in what sa’nu (mom) was doing, your son made it impossible to progress in your preparations for the night’s festivities. He had been wriggling against the leather carrier, grabbing your paint covered hands, and pulling strands of your hair. He had only fallen asleep when you gave in, standing and walking in slow circles around the room while patting his back and humming.
Somehow the small baby that had once fit into the palm of Jake’s hand could now walk on his own. While he was growing into an independent “little man,” as Jake called him, Ta’em would still not sleep without you near. He liked to hold onto your fingers as he fell asleep, to ensure that you were there. He cried whenever you tried to put him down and woke whenever you’d try to leave his side undetected. You could not blame him, though, since he certainly got it from his father, who held onto you each night like you would disappear otherwise.
The thought made you shake your head even as you smiled, and reminded you that Jake would be back from rehearsal to fetch you and your son very soon.
The festivities would begin before ukyom (eclipse) and by the brightness of the sun and the shadows on the ground, it was fast approaching. Flowers you wanted to thread through your intricate hairstyle sat untouched in a basket beside you. With a deep breath, you took a section of your hair into your hands and prayed you could braid quickly.
Thankfully, you had been able to complete most of the tsamopin (warpaint) required for the celebration earlier when the 'evi (child) was happy to occupy himself with the many toys Jake had carved for him. Yellow and orange paint covered your face, shoulders and torso in patterns to match your beloved ikran, Tse’wey.
It had been a long time since you painted your body and wore your battle garments. There had not been fighting since the aytawtute (skypeople) had left Eywa'eveng (Pandora) in their metal skyships years ago. You had gladly let the river wash the blood splattered paint from your body when the Battle of Ayram Alusìng was finally won by the Na’vi. It was your hope to never don tsamopin for anything other than ceremonies like that of tonight ever again.
Tonight, the Omatikaya would remember and honor what was known as Tsam Lefpom (peaceful war), a short summertime conflict between two Na’vi clans that occurred long ago. The skirmish ended in peace and relations were restored, preserving the lives of many. It was tradition to dress for battle, but instead gather to eat, sing and dance, and remember the blessings of living in harmony as one body in Eywa.
The Keeper of Songs would initiate the multi-day festival of peace by singing about the epic tale, while dancers and warriors reenacted the event in an interpretive tribute. This year, Jake had been asked to perform, being one of the most respected warriors of the clan. It filled you with pride that he was given such an honor, though he was nervous to accept. But above all that, you were excited for Ta’em to witness the festivities and be part of the joyful experience for the first time.
You were in the middle of a braid when your mate’s voice came from outside the kelku, saying, “You wouldn’t believe it, baby.” Your ears perked up at the sound and Jake ducked into the dwelling, grinning.
Toruk Makto was home, and the sight of him made you giddy. The rare spectacle of his regalia took the breath from your lungs. You paused your work to admire him as he scanned the room quickly, his feathered braids swinging behind him, before finding you on the floor. His eyes lit up as he approached, crouched beside you, instinctively putting a hand on Ta’em.
This time more hushed, he repeated, “You wouldn’t believe it.”
“Ma ‘Jake,” you greeted, amused at the excitement in his voice. Your eyes darted over his face to make sure the yellow-orange and black stripes you had applied earlier remained intact. Your eyes lingered on his mouth and you couldn’t help but lean in for a quick kiss.
“Hi, baby,” he replied, still so close his lips moved against yours. “Missed you.”
“You have only been gone for a short time,” you teased, but you knew your eyes told him you missed him too.
“Still missed you.” He moved back a little to watch as you smiled and hastily tied off the end of a braid.
“How did it go? What will I not believe?” You asked, reaching behind your head to start on another section of hair. His brow shot up at the reminder.
“They chose me to play one of the Olo’eyktans,” he laughed.
“What an honor that is.” Your smile turned teasing. “My mate. Toruk Makto and now Olo’eyktan, as well. I am one lucky woman.”
His lips tipped into a smirk, but laughed when he added, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Well, that has never stopped you, has it?” you encouraged, picking up a flower from the bowl and weaving the stem through some of your hair. You learned first-hand years ago that there was nothing your husband could not do if he put his mind to it.
After a moment of watching your frantic work, he nodded toward Ta’em and inquired, “How’s my little man? Give you any trouble?”
“He is well,” you answered, kissing the top of your baby’s head. “I, on the other hand, am very behind. He sleeps now, but getting him to was no easy feat.”
“How can I help?” Jake asked sincerely, sensing your exasperation, and moving onto his knees behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders. “What do you need?”
“My hair,” you sighed, reaching back to determine how much was left to style. “I need to braid the rest and add all the flowers.”
“You got it, baby.”
With the extra hands, the task was done more quickly than you could have managed on your own. Jake's hands moved with a surprising swiftness as he helped you finish braiding the remainder of your hair. For someone whose work required so much strength, you were impressed that such dexterity translated to hair styling. Though his weaving had become quite good now, much improved from his days of training when he was all thumbs.
Jake’s touch now was delicate, making you shiver when his fingers occasionally brushed over your skin as he worked. His hands smoothed down your neck and kuru tswin (neural queue braid) as you placed the last flower in your partial up-do. You hummed in satisfaction, before twisting to look up at him.
“How do I look?” you asked, smiling your prettiest smile and moving your head from side to side to show him each angle.
He grinned as he took you in. “Beautiful,” he declared, and you believed it.
“I am beautiful thanks to you.” You smiled back and kissed his cheek. Moving to stand, you took Jake’s hand when he offered it and eyed the length of the shadows outside as he pulled you up. “We must hurry. We cannot be late because of me.”
“Not so fast,” he said, using the hand he still held to stop you and turn you back to face him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Your brow furrowed and you looked down at yourself. Unable to spot anything amiss, you returned your gaze to Jake. With a look that expressed both disbelief and the urgency of said matter, he scooped up the bowl of white paint from the floor and dipped his hand in it.
“Oh!”
You had forgotten. Jake’s handprint was the last needed piece to complete your tsamopin. It was arguably the most eye-catching and, undeniably, your husband’s favorite part.
“Hand the boy over,” he demanded, stepping closer to you.
You removed Ta’em from the prrsmung and placed the sleeping child on Jake’s shoulder. One of his hands moved to rest under the toddler’s bottom and you quickly shed the leather carrier, revealing the empty spot over the center of your chest.
Suddenly shy under his gaze, you wordlessly wrapped your fingers around his wrist and brought his hand to its rightful place. It fit perfectly. The paint’s initial chill warmed with the heat of his flesh. Holding his hand there for a moment, you wondered if he could feel the way your heart beat beneath it.
The print that remained when Jake pulled away was a symbol of your union, of his claim over you as a mate. You wore his five fingers proudly over your heart.
His eyes trailed over the handprint, and there was a dangerous look in them. An equally dangerous feeling jolted from your toes up your spine.
“That’s more like it,” Jake said, his voice breathy and low.
–
Ta’em began to stir as you and Jake walked hand in hand to the center of the village. He rubbed his face into Jake’s shoulder before pulling back with a dazed expression. The way he blinked at you and Jake made you both laugh.
“Hey, buddy,” Jake greeted, tilting his head to the side and regarding his son. “Sleep good?”
“Dada,” Ta’em said with pleasure, tail wagging and immediately bringing his hands to Jake’s face. Jake grinned, kissed the boy’s hand, and hoisted him onto his shoulders, where he sat happily for the rest of the walk.
The fire was already ablaze in its pit when you arrived, surrounded by your people all dressed for the occasion. Feathery leaves adorned bodies and hair, with colorful paint decorating faces and limbs. The dancers were more intricately dressed and gathered together with some warriors off to the side.
Olo’eyktan, Tsahik and Tsakarem stood in front of the fire where the night’s feast was being prepared, speaking with the Keeper of Songs, Ninat, and occasionally greeting others as the crowd grew. Your little family approached the esteemed leaders when the Ninat departed. You and Jake bowed your heads toward them, bringing a hand up in greeting and saying, “Oel ngati kameie.”
Tsu’tey, Mo’at and Neytiri responded in turn and welcomed you. Mo’at’s attention was quickly taken by another, but Neytiri stepped closer to Jake, her eyes fixed on the baby that was now held against his chest. Her own stomach was extended slightly, and her mate watched fondly as she engaged with your son. The couple looked fearsome in their warpaint, but their smiles were warm.
“Tiri Tiri Tiri,” Ta’em exclaimed, wiggling in Jake’s hold and waving his arms excitedly.
“Ma ‘Ta’em, you grow bigger and stronger each time I see you,” Neytiri cooed, getting close enough to pretend to bite his outstretched hand.
“Oel ngati kameie, Neytiri,” you spoke slowly in demonstration after your son’s laughter had died down. Jake took one of Ta’em’s hands and guided it through the motion that accompanied the phrase.
“Kamay!” The child repeated and Ney’tiri’s eyes widened before squinting with her smile, ears tipping back fondly.
“I hear you are quite the performer,” Tsu’tey addressed Jake from over Neytiri’s shoulder, his lips quirking to the side. “Do not make a fool out of yourself, Toruk Makto, mighty warrior.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, tsmukan (brother),” Jake responded, shaking his head with a smile on his face.
“Show some respect, muntxatan (husband),” Neytiri chided playfully. “Jake is also Olo’eyktan tonight.”
“Your dying wish has come true,” Jake teased, referring to the end of the Battle of Ayram Alusìng, when a mortally wounded Tsu’tey had passed the mantle of clan leader to him. However, by Eywa’s grace, Tsu’tey made a full recovery and Jake never had to step into the role.
“Blood loss clouded my judgement,” Tsu’tey huffed, trying to hide his own smile.
You stifled a laugh as the sound of umili jahmka t’rusu (pole drums) sounded through the air, pulling everyone’s attention toward the musicians and signaling that the ceremony would begin soon.
“Gotta go,” Jake said, passing your child to you and planting a kiss on both of your heads. From the tightness in the smile he offered Tsu’tey and Neytiri, you could tell he was nervous. “Wish me luck,” he added with a laugh.
“Good luck, Ma ‘Jake,” you offered warmly, adjusting Ta’em on your hip. “You will be the best Olo’eyktan the clan has ever seen.”
“Thanks, baby.” His smile turned into a grin, chuckling when Tsu’tey scoffed and rolled his eyes beside you. With that, Jake jogged off to join the other performers where they gathered.
The performance began with the pounding of drums. The Keeper of Songs stood centered, her extravagant shawl and headpiece lit by the fire’s glow. She began her song in a strong voice that was filled with spirit. Serious and playful all at once, the dancers and warriors entered on either side of her. They held weapons and faced off against each other in exaggerated movements as the shrill sounds of whizzers and whistles added emphasis to the dynamic picture they painted with their bodies.
“Look! It’s dada. Sempu!” you whispered to your son, pointing to Jake amidst the other performers.
Ta’em’s wide eyes followed your finger and lit up when he saw his dad, clapping his hands together. As he grew, these songs and stories of your people’s history would be ingrained in your son’s mind as they were in yours. You kissed his supple cheek and turned your attention back to the story that was unfolding in front of you.
Throughout the performance, you found your eyes constantly drifting back to your husband. He looked just as you remembered, running around in his warrior’s regalia as they reenacted the battle. Fearsome, powerful, and oh-so handsome. Though his skill did not match the seasoned dancers around him, his presence was mesmerizing. He carried himself like the leader and formidable warrior he was.
The sight of him made heat rush to your cheeks. If he was not already yours, it would have been your mission to make it so with haste.
The lack of tactical gear on his body was a nice reminder that your fight with the aytawtute (skypeople) was over, thank the Great Mother. She had blessed you and your people greatly with such a victory and in many countless ways since then. The proof of her favor was in the healing of the land, the persevering people around you, and in the growing baby in your arms.
When the story arrived at the peaceful agreement that was made between the two clans, all the people raised their voices to become one. After a bit of singing in unison, the men broke off from the melody and lyrics to sing a drone, as per tradition. The dancers spun around the warriors, who bowed to one another, vocalizing as they moved like windswept kenten (fan lizards) with their billowing loreyu (helicoradian) leaves catching the light of the fire.
“Eywa in her great mercy and power. Eywa in her great mercy and power. Sons and daughters to mothers and fathers. Fathers and mothers to daughters and sons,” the Keeper of Songs led.
As the rhythm of the drums slowed, the performers moved into the singing audience, each looking for their own families. With you and Ta’em standing right at the front, with the best view of sempu, Jake did not have to walk far to find you. He grinned and wrapped an arm around your shoulder as Ninat finished with a flourish of her ceremonial garments.
“Tamìng syawn lu ay ngopyu te fpom. (Blessed be creators of peace).
Ayfo layu ayeveng te Eywa. (They will be children of Eywa).
Ma ‘Eywa. Ma ‘Eywa.
Ngeyä tstunkem ulte tìrey sìn ayohe. (Your favor and life on us all).”
The crowd erupted into a cacophony of battlecries and you raised your voice in a shout. Ta’em’s ears twitched at the sounds and he did his best impression, eyes wild. The surprisingly powerful squeal made Jake chuckle and falter in his own. You laughed as Jake’s other arm fell from its raised position to pull you into a hug, Ta’em sandwiched between your bodies.
“Enjoy the show?” Jake asked, his labored breath tickling the tip of your ear.
“Exceedingly,” you answered, wrapping an arm around his back.
“Y’proud of me?” He pulled away to look into your eyes, ignoring the way Ta’em pushed against you both as he protested his confinement.
“Frakrr, Ma ‘Olo’eyktan.” You smiled. Always.
With the performance done, Tsu’tey spoke an inspiring word of encouragement before Tsahik prayed a blessing over the feast. Your family of three gathered food onto leaf plates with the rest of the buzzing crowd and found a spot to eat. Spirits were high and jovial music underscored it all as you partook in the delicious food and chatted with those around you.
Ta’em stood between his parents, with a hand on Jake’s knee, munching away with eyes darting around the many new and exciting things. You were ripping some food into small bites for him when Neytiri suddenly appeared by your side.
“I think it is time for Ta’em to come with Auntie Neytiri!” she announced, leaning down to pick up your toddler and the leaf plate full of his remaining food. “Sa’nok and sempul will thank me later.”
With a knowing smile, she whisked your son away, leaving you and Jake alone. His eyes met yours and your heart picked up in your chest. The firelight made his eyes glint, and the warm glow accentuated the strong lines of his jaw, nose and mouth.
“C’mere,” Jake said softly, taking your wrist and pulling you closer to him. You gently landed on your knees and pressed your hands against his chest. His eyes trailed over your face, taking in every detail before his gaze briefly dropped to your chest, to his hand-print. A smug smile curved his lips upward.
“Finally got you all to myself,” he murmured, resting a warm hand just under your jaw.
Finally, you thought, closing your eyes and leaning into Jake’s touch. His other hand came to rest on your upper arm and you felt his forehead and nose lower to press against yours. Your breaths mingled between you before the softness of his mouth slotted against your lips. He kissed you with a fervor that reignited the dangerous feeling from before.
Your lips parted as he tipped your head further back, letting him in. The beat of your heart and the unceasing drums became one and roared in your ears, drowning out the world around you. He brought you closer with hands on your back, and you felt lightheaded with longing. Consumed by his smell, the touch of his skin, the warmth of his mouth and the sound of his shaky breath.
It was the indecent sound you made that snapped you out of your daze. Your eyes shot open, suddenly aware of all the people around you. You pulled away and Jake’s head lurched forward, chasing after yours. The expression on his face when he blinked his eyes open was strikingly like your son’s post-nap.
“We still have many eyes upon us,” you whispered, taking your hands off Jake’s chest and pressing them against your hot cheeks.
“Wanna get out of here?” he muttered hopefully, eyes wide with eagerness and dark with desire.
As tempted as you were, you shook your head. “The night is young, yawnetu. Dance with me,” you requested, looking up at him through your lashes and tracing a line up the strap of his battle band. His jaw tightened and you could see his rapid pulse in the hollow of his throat. “Please?”
Jake looked up to the sky and took a deep, steeling breath. On his exhale, he nodded, smoothing his hands over your hair and cupping your face in his palms.
“Alright, let's dance.”
Taking hold of Jake’s hand, you pulled him closer to the large fire pit where dancers circled around the flames. Quickly finding a place among them, the drums and chanting flowed through you. Dizzy at the sight of your husband before you, your feet seemed to move of their accord. His eyes creased with smile lines and hearty laughter spilled from his mouth as he tried to keep up with all the fast movements.
You reveled under the weight of Jake’s adoring gaze as you lifted your arms and moved to the beat of the drums. His hand lingered on you longer than necessary each time the steps brought you together. Your bodies brushed against each other as the dance called for partners to switch sides, weaving through each other as Eywa wove all things.
Eventually, you and Jake peeled away from the group to dance freely, just the two of you. With a hand on your waist, he led you through dances he brought from 'rrta (Earth). He grasped your hand and raised it to spin you around and around. Then he dipped you low and laughter bubbled up in you as he pulled you back into his chest.
Almost gasping for breath, you and Jake all but collapsed onto the ground when your limbs began to tire.
“I’m all danced out,” Jake huffed, head lolling to the side as he propped himself up on an arm. “No more dancing for me. Ever.”
You breathed erratically as you simultaneously laughed and tried to catch your breath. “You say that every time.”
“And I mean it,” Jake insisted, smiling fondly at you as you tucked a loose braid back into its place. “But I can’t say no to you, sevin’eve (pretty girl).”
You couldn’t hide how deeply pleased you were, the affectionate name adding to the warm, light feeling that still pervaded through you. But you lowered your gaze and tried to hide your smile as you responded, “Yes, you can. I would just dance on my own. Or with another…”
“Over my dead body,” he vowed, swiftly sitting up. He glared at you playfully but motioned with the tilt of his head and a wave of his hand for you to come nearer.
Amused, you scooted closer and let Jake tug you into his hold once again. You sat comfortably between his legs and leaned back against his chest. His arm slid across your middle while the other hand smoothed over your thigh.
“Do not fret, Ma ‘Jake,” you reassured, patting his arm. “I chose you knowing you could not dance.”
He tried to turn his chuckle into a scoff and shook his head. “Thanks, that makes me feel so much better.”
Jake leaned his head against yours and you enjoyed the comfortable silence that followed. You glanced around, taking in the beauty of the night and watching as others continued to dance. You did a double take when you spotted Tsu’tey stomping through the crowd of celebrating people. His expression was distressed and the toddler in his hands looked angry, flailing his body as he tried to escape the Olo’eyktan’s grasp. Neytiri trailed behind them, eyes wide.
“He’s pissed,” Jake observed with a wince, and you bit your lip trying not to laugh at the sight. You sat up as Ta’em’s screams grew louder as they neared.
“Ken!!” the boy was repeating, purple in the face.
“We do not know what the ‘evi wants,” Tsu’tey grated out, a hint of concern in his voice. He held out Ta’em to you as you and Jake stood.
“We cannot understand what he wishes to say,” Neytiri chimed in, looking guilty.
“Mawey, maitan (calm, my son),” you said, taking the resistant child in your hands where he continued to try to throw his body to the ground. “The silly boy would like to be put down,” you translated for them, “Keyn (put down).”
The pair’s eyes lit with understanding and Neytiri’s shoulders relaxed. You crouched and put the almost crying child on the ground, holding tight to his torso lest he decide to run. His anger disappeared the moment his feet touched the soil, as if he had not been causing a scene at all.
“I apologize for my son and the distress he caused you,” Jake said with a playful edge to his voice as Tsu’tey and Neytiri watched the now very happy child in disbelief. You had a feeling you and Jake would be saying that often in the years to come.
“I hope it was not too discouraging,” you added, with a sympathetic look. “You will come to know the unique language of your own child…” You trailed off as Ta’em babbled almost incomprehensibly, looking up at his sempu expectantly. “...Somewhat.”
“That is what he kept saying!” Neytiri exclaimed, lowering to your level and looking to you for clarity.
The only sounds you caught from it all were, “An si” and “ioa” and only you and Jake would know he meant to say “uvan si ioang” (play beast). You shared a knowing look with your husband before he bent over and growled playfully, earning a squeal of delight from Ta’em.
“He wants to play,” Jake explained, grinning at Neytiri and then up at Tsu’tey. Then he crouched to address his son, “C’mon, boy, let’s go.”
You looped a finger around the side of Ta’em’s loincloth, preparing for the mad dash that was about to ensue. “Want to join?” You asked your friends who glanced at each other.
Neytiri seemed to win the silent battle between them when Tsu’tey conceded with a nod. “Show us how it is done,” the Olo’eyktan requested, looking to Jake.
“Watch and learn,” was all Jake offered, a bit smugly, before he playfully threatened Ta’em with, “I’m gonna get you!”
You released your toddler, keeping a watchful eye on him as he ran, screaming happily. Jake chuckled and shook his head fondly, giving his son a generous head start. His little legs did not take him too far before Jake nodded and the four of you took off after him.
Ta’em paused and turned to look back, eyes widening when he found that you were close. Jake growled and the child almost shook with excitement as he ran as fast as he could manage. You shared a look with Neytiri and laughed as you followed, weaving through the body of your people.
The five of you were eventually joined by a handful of small children and you all raced around the village center, each taking turns being the ioang. You took care to avoid the fire, toes and tails, bowls of kava and leaves of food that remained from the feast as you played. Sounds of joy filled the air of the night until Polyphemus was bright in the sky and the fire burned low.
Early tomorrow, you were to fly out and meet with the Kekunan and the Tawkami clans to jointly continue the celebrations, but you were happy to stretch this moment as long as you could. However, you knew that it was time to retire when Ta’em slowed, plopped to the ground and began rubbing his eyes. Everyone halted as you scooped him up, the boy fighting sleep with all of his might.
“He must be tired,” Neytiri mused as Ta’em struggled against the heaviness of his head, refusing to give in and rest on your shoulder. “As am I.”
You nodded with a smile. “It has been quite an exciting day for all of us, hasn’t it, ma ‘prrnen (baby)?”
“Indeed,” Tsu’tey answered instead, coming up beside his mate. “With many more to come.”
You were suddenly struck with the absence of your own mate. Looking around, you found Jake crouched a few feet away, speaking to the other children that had joined your game of “beast.” One of the young girls rested her hands atop an arm Jake had propped on his knee with a look of wonder on her face. You looked on affectionately, the sight a beautiful glimpse of your future.
Jake promised to play with them another time and the children nodded in agreement, though some looked disappointed. Jake straightened as they ran off, scattering to find their families, and he looked to you with a dazzling smile.
There was a softness in his gaze as he neared you and your son, and warmth welled up in you. Oh, how you were blessed, for you had prayed for times like these.
BONUS SCENE (EPILOGUE)
masterlist
Na'vi to English Translations
Prrsmung: baby carrier
Kelku: house/home
Sempu: dad
Sa’nu: mom
Ukyom: eclipse
Tsamopin: warpaint
'Evi: child
Ayram Alusìng: The Hallelujah/floating/thundering mountains
Tsam: war
Lefpom: peaceful
Kuru tswin: neural queue braid
Oel ngati kameie: I see you
Umili jahmka t’rusu: pole drum
Aytawtute: Skypeople (plural)
Ngeyä tstunkem ulte tìrey sìn ayohe: your favor and life on us all
Tamìng syawn lu ay ngopyu te fpom: Blessed be creators of peace
Ayfo layu ayeveng te Eywa: They will be children of Eywa
Frakrr: always
Sa’nok: mother
Sempul: father
Yawnetu: beloved, loved one, lover
'Rrta: Earth
Keyn: put down
Uvan: play
Si ioang: beast
‘Prrnen: baby
Kava: alcoholic/intoxicating drink
Written for the Pandora in Bloom event by @junebugonjupiter! The prompt: both are in love but neither know it ... at least, that was the one I started with
***Tarsem has been watching you for months, too afraid to confess. You've been waiting, too afraid to hope. This is the day one of you finally finds the courage to speak—and everything changes.
A sweet, nervous love story about two people too scared to believe the other feels the same.
Word Count: <7k
You've always known Tarsem as steady.
That's the word that comes to mind when you think of him—steady. Like the ancient trees that hold up Hometree's branches, like the rhythm of your heartbeat when you're at rest. He's the warrior who never flinches, never hesitates when the clan needs him. When Jake Sully calls for volunteers for a dangerous scouting mission, Tarsem's hand is always first to rise. When younger hunters need guidance, he's there before dawn, bow in hand, ready to teach. You've watched him train Neteyam countless times, patient and firm, correcting the boy's stance with careful hands and quiet praise.
Dependable. Self-assured. Confident in a way that doesn't need to announce itself.
So it's strange—very strange—that for the past several months, Tarsem has been anything but steady around you.
It started small. You'd catch him watching you across the communal fires, his golden eyes tracking your movements as you helped prepare the evening meal or wove baskets with the other women. At first, you thought nothing of it. The Omaticaya are a close clan; everyone watches everyone. But then you began to notice the pattern. How his gaze would linger just a moment too long. How he'd look away the instant you glanced back, suddenly very interested in whatever conversation was happening beside him.
Then came the moments of almost-interaction. He'd approach you with clear purpose in his stride, and you'd turn to greet him, only for him to veer off at the last second to speak with someone nearby. Or he'd open his mouth as if to say something, then close it again and offer you a nod before walking away. Once, he'd been heading directly toward you with what looked like a carved wooden comb in his hands—beautiful work, the kind that takes hours to craft—and then Neteyam had called his name, and Tarsem had quickly tucked it into his belt and jogged off in the opposite direction.
You'd found that same comb weeks later, abandoned on a training platform.
Your friends have noticed. Säla'ite had nudged you during a weaving circle, grinning as she watched Tarsem walk past for the third time in an hour, each time glancing your way. "That warrior has something on his mind," she'd whispered, her voice full of knowing amusement.
You'd brushed it off. "He's probably just thinking about the next hunt."
"Mm-hmm. And I'm thinking about becoming Tsahik." Säla'ite had laughed, her tail swishing with mirth. "He looks at you like you're the only person in the village."
You'd felt heat rise in your cheeks, your ears flicking back in embarrassment. "Don't be silly."
But you'd noticed it too. Of course you had. It was impossible not to notice the way Tarsem's whole body seemed to orient toward you whenever you were near, like a plant turning toward the sun. The way his voice would soften when he spoke to you on the rare occasions he actually managed to hold a conversation. The way he'd appear whenever you needed help with something heavy or difficult, as if he had some sixth sense for when you required assistance.
Just last week, you'd been struggling to carry a bundle of medicinal herbs back from the forest, your arms full and your balance precarious on the winding branch-paths. Tarsem had materialized out of nowhere, gently taking the burden from your arms before you could protest.
"Let me," he'd said, his voice low and warm.
You'd walked together in comfortable silence, and you'd stolen glances at his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the focus in his eyes, the way his braids swayed with each step. He was beautiful in the way all Na'vi were beautiful, but there was something else about him. Something solid and real that made you feel safe.
When you'd reached the healer's alcove, he'd set down the herbs with care, and you'd thanked him with a smile that made his ears twitch. He'd looked at you then, really looked at you, and you'd seen something vulnerable flash across his face. His mouth had opened, his hand had lifted slightly as if reaching for you—
And then Mo'at had called for him, and the moment had shattered like a drop of water hitting stone.
He'd left quickly, almost stumbling over his own feet in his haste.
You'd stood there, heart beating faster than it should, wondering what he'd been about to say.
The truth is, you've been aware of Tarsem for far longer than these past few months. How could you not be? He's one of the clan's finest warriors, respected by Jake Sully himself, trusted with the training of the Olo'eyktan's eldest son. He's the one who volunteers for the dangerous tasks, who stays up late to reinforce the village defenses, who checks on the elders without being asked.
And yes, you've noticed the way his muscles move beneath his skin when he draws his bow. The way his laugh sounds when he's relaxed and among friends—deep and genuine and rare enough to be precious. The way he's kind to the children, letting them climb on him like he's a tree, patient even when they're being particularly wild.
You've noticed all of it.
But you've also noticed his hesitation around you, and you've respected it. If Tarsem wanted to approach you, he would. He's not a shy man by nature. So his reluctance must mean something—maybe he's not interested in that way, maybe he's just being friendly, maybe you're reading too much into lingering glances and almost-moments.
You've told yourself not to hope.
But hope is a stubborn thing, and it's taken root in your chest despite your best efforts to uproot it.
So you've settled into this strange dance—this circling of each other, this tension that hums between you like a bowstring pulled taut. You've learned to expect his presence and his absence in equal measure. You've learned to smile at him when you pass, to accept his help when he offers it, to pretend you don't notice the way he watches you when he thinks you're not looking.
You've learned to wait.
And today—today something feels different.
The afternoon sun filters through the canopy in golden shafts, painting the village in warm light. You're sitting on one of the lower platforms, helping repair a fishing net that got torn during the last expedition to the river. Your fingers work the cordage with practiced ease, weaving new strands into the gaps, your mind pleasantly empty of thought.
The village hums with activity around you. Children shriek with laughter as they chase each other across the branches. Hunters return from the morning expedition, their calls echoing through the trees. Somewhere nearby, someone is singing—a low, rhythmic song that matches the pulse of the forest.
You're so focused on your work that you don't notice Tarsem until his shadow falls across your hands.
You look up, and your breath catches.
He's standing there, bow slung across his back, his chest still rising and falling from exertion—he must have just returned from something. There's a sheen of sweat on his skin that makes him glow in the dappled light, and his braids are slightly disheveled, a few loose strands framing his face. He looks like he's been running.
But it's his expression that makes you pause. There's something intense in his eyes, something determined and almost desperate. His jaw is set, his shoulders squared, like he's preparing for battle.
"Tarsem," you greet him, setting down the net. "Are you alright?"
He blinks, and the intensity flickers. "I—yes. Yes, I am well." His voice is rougher than usual, like he's been shouting. Or like he's nervous.
You tilt your head, studying him. "Did something happen on the hunt?"
"The hunt?" He looks confused for a moment, then shakes his head quickly. "No, no. The hunt was... it was fine. Good. We tracked a yerik to the eastern groves, but we let it go. Not the right time."
"Oh." You wait, but he doesn't elaborate. He just stands there, looking at you with that strange intensity, his hands flexing at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.
The silence stretches.
"Did you... need something?" you ask gently.
"Need something," he repeats, and there's something almost wild in his laugh. "Yes. I need—" He cuts himself off, his ears pinning back. His hand moves to his belt, fingers brushing against something tucked there, hidden from view. His eyes drop to the net in your lap. "Your net. It's torn."
You glance down at the obvious repair work in your hands. "Yes... that's why I'm fixing it."
"Right. Of course." He shifts his weight, and you notice his tail is lashing behind him in agitation. "Do you need help? I could—I'm good with knots. I could help you."
This is odd. Tarsem has helped you with many things, but he's never offered to help with weaving or repair work. That's not usually his domain. He's a hunter, a warrior. His skills lie in tracking and fighting and survival, not in the delicate work of mending nets.
But there's something almost pleading in his expression, so you smile and gesture to the space beside you. "I would welcome the company."
Relief floods his face, and he sits down with less grace than usual, his knee bumping against yours as he settles. The contact sends a little spark through you, and you notice he doesn't move away.
He reaches for a section of the net, and his fingers immediately fumble with the cordage. You watch, bemused, as he attempts a basic weaver's knot and somehow ends up with a tangled mess instead.
"Here," you say softly, reaching over to guide his hands. "Like this."
Your fingers brush against his, and he goes very still. You can feel the warmth of his skin, the calluses on his palms from years of holding weapons. His hands are larger than yours, stronger, but they're trembling slightly.
You look up at him, concerned. "Tarsem, are you sure you're alright? You seem..."
"I'm fine," he says quickly, but his voice is strained. He's staring at where your hands touch his, his eyes wide and his pupils dilated. "I'm just—it's been a long day."
"It's barely past midday," you point out gently.
"A long morning, then." He pulls his hands back, and you feel the loss of contact like a physical thing. He clears his throat, looking away. "You're right. I'm not very good at this. I should—I should let you work."
He starts to stand, and you don't know what possesses you, but you reach out and catch his wrist. "Stay," you say. "Please. You don't have to help with the net. Just... stay and talk to me."
He freezes, looking down at where your fingers wrap around his wrist. His pulse is racing beneath your touch—you can feel it, rapid and strong. When he looks at you, there's something raw in his expression, something vulnerable that makes your heart squeeze.
"I..." He swallows hard. "I would like that."
He sits back down, closer this time, and you release his wrist reluctantly. You return to your work, but you're hyperaware of him beside you—the heat of his body, the sound of his breathing, the way he keeps glancing at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.
"How is Neteyam's training going?" you ask, trying to ease the strange tension in the air.
Tarsem latches onto the topic like a lifeline. "Good. Very good. He's a natural hunter—has his father's instincts and his mother's grace. Yesterday he tracked a hexapede for two hours without losing the trail once." There's pride in his voice, the kind of pride a teacher has for a gifted student.
You smile, picturing the earnest young boy following Tarsem through the forest. "He admires you greatly. I've heard him talking about you to his siblings."
Tarsem's ears perk up, and he looks at you with surprise. "He does?"
"Of course. You're patient with him. Kind. You push him to be better without making him feel inadequate." You pause in your weaving to look at him directly. "You're a good teacher, Tarsem."
The compliment seems to undo something in him. His expression softens, and for a moment, he looks at you with such open affection that it steals your breath. "I just... I want him to be ready. For whatever comes. The sky people are still out there, and Jake says—" He stops himself, shaking his head. "But that's not what I wanted to talk about."
Your heart skips. "What did you want to talk about?"
He opens his mouth. Closes it. His hand moves to his belt again, touching that hidden object. His jaw works like he's trying to force words out, but they won't come.
"Tarsem?" you prompt gently.
"I—" He's interrupted by a shout from above.
"Tarsem! There you are!" Neteyam's voice rings out, and you both look up to see the boy swinging down from a higher branch with the fearless agility of youth. He lands beside you with a grin, his tail swishing excitedly. "I've been looking everywhere for you! You promised we'd work on my aim this afternoon, remember?"
Tarsem looks torn, his eyes darting between you and Neteyam. "I... yes, I remember, but—"
"Great! Let's go!" Neteyam is already bouncing on his toes, eager and energetic. Then he seems to notice you for the first time, and his grin widens. "Oh, hello! Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."
"You're not interrupting," you assure him, even though he absolutely is. You glance at Tarsem, who looks like he's in physical pain. "Go on. Neteyam needs you."
"I could come back," Tarsem says quickly. "Later. I could come back later and we could—"
"It's alright," you say, smiling even though you feel a pang of disappointment. "I'll be here."
He stares at you for a long moment, something desperate in his eyes, and then Neteyam is tugging on his arm, and he's being pulled away. He looks back at you twice as he goes, nearly walking into a support beam the second time.
You watch him disappear into the forest with Neteyam, and you can't shake the feeling that he was about to say something important.
Something that might have changed everything.
An hour later, you're helping prepare vegetables for the evening meal when you see him again.
The communal cooking area is busy with activity—several women working together to prepare food for the clan, the air filled with the scent of herbs and roasting meat. You're slicing tubers into thin pieces, your knife moving with rhythmic precision, when you feel that familiar prickle of awareness that means Tarsem is nearby.
You look up, and sure enough, he's standing at the edge of the cooking area, watching you. When your eyes meet, he straightens, and you see him take a deep breath, like he's steeling himself for something.
He walks toward you with purpose, and your heart starts to beat faster.
"Hello again," you say, setting down your knife.
"Hello." His voice is steadier now, more controlled. He's cleaned up since earlier—the sweat is gone, his braids are neat again, and he's changed into a fresh loincloth. He looks... prepared. Like he's dressed for something important. "I wanted to—I brought you something."
Your eyebrows rise. "You did?"
He nods, reaching into the small pouch at his side. He pulls out a fruit—a perfect yovo fruit, the kind that grows high in the canopy and is difficult to reach. The skin is unblemished, the color a deep, rich purple that indicates perfect ripeness.
He holds it out to you, and you notice his hand is shaking slightly.
"I remembered you saying you liked these," he says quietly. "And I saw this one while I was out with Neteyam, and I thought... I thought you might want it."
Something warm blooms in your chest. He remembered. Such a small thing—a passing comment you'd made weeks ago about loving yovo fruit—and he'd remembered.
You take the fruit from his hand, your fingers brushing his palm. "Thank you, Tarsem. This is very sweet of you."
His ears twitch at the word 'sweet,' and a faint flush darkens his cheeks. "It's nothing. Just a fruit."
"It's not nothing," you say firmly. You turn the fruit in your hands, admiring it. "This is perfect. It must have taken you a while to find one this good."
He shrugs, but you can see the pleasure in his expression at your praise. "I wanted... I wanted you to have the best one."
The way he says it—so earnest, so sincere—makes your heart flutter. You look up at him, and the intensity is back in his eyes, that same desperate determination you saw earlier.
"Tarsem," you begin, but he's already speaking.
"I need to tell you something," he says, the words coming out in a rush. "I've been trying to tell you all day, and I keep—I keep losing my courage, but I can't keep doing this. I can't keep circling around you like a—like a—"
"Tarsem!" One of the other women calls out, waving him over. "Could you help us lift this pot? It's too heavy."
He closes his eyes, and you see his jaw clench in frustration. For a moment, you think he might ignore the request, might finally say whatever it is he's been trying to say all day.
But then his sense of duty wins out—because of course it does, because he's Tarsem, and he can't ignore someone who needs help.
"One moment," he calls back, then looks at you with something like anguish in his eyes. "Don't go anywhere. Please. I'll be right back, and then we can—"
"I'll be here," you promise, clutching the yovo fruit to your chest.
He nods, then hurries over to help with the pot. You watch as he lifts it with ease, his muscles flexing with the effort, and you see several of the women exchange knowing glances and giggles.
You're not the only one who's noticed Tarsem's strange behavior today.
He sets the pot down where they need it, accepts their thanks with a distracted nod, and turns back to you—
Only to find that Säla'ite has appeared at your side and is already pulling you away, chattering about needing your help with something urgent.
You look back at Tarsem apologetically, and the expression on his face is so forlorn, so utterly defeated, that you almost laugh. He looks like a child who's had his favorite toy taken away.
But Säla'ite is insistent, and you let yourself be pulled along, still holding the yovo fruit like a treasure.
The "urgent" matter turns out to be Säla'ite wanting to gossip about Tarsem.
"He's courting you," she says gleefully as soon as you're out of earshot. "He has to be. Did you see the way he looked at you? Like you hung the moons in the sky!"
You feel heat rise in your cheeks. "He was just being kind. Bringing me a fruit doesn't mean—"
"Oh, please." Säla'ite rolls her eyes dramatically. "Men don't climb to the top of the canopy for 'just a fruit' unless they're trying to impress someone. And Tarsem has been following you around all day like a lost yerik."
"He has not," you protest, but even as you say it, you realize she might be right. The net-mending, the fruit, the way he keeps trying to talk to you...
"He has," Säla'ite insists. "Everyone's noticed. Even Mo'at commented on it—said she's never seen him so distracted during the morning prayers." She grins, her tail swishing with delight. "I think he's going to ask to court you."
Your heart does a complicated flip in your chest. "That's... that's a big assumption."
"Is it?" Säla'ite gives you a knowing look. "You like him too. Don't even try to deny it. I've seen the way you watch him when you think no one's looking."
You open your mouth to deny it, then close it again. What's the point? Säla'ite knows you too well.
"I might like him," you admit quietly. "But that doesn't mean he wants to court me. Maybe he just wants to be friends."
Säla'ite laughs so hard she nearly falls off the branch. "Friends. Right. Friends who look at each other like they're starving and the other person is a feast." She sobers slightly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "He's going to ask you. I'd bet my best weaving on it. And when he does, what will you say?"
You look down at the yovo fruit in your hands, running your thumb over its smooth skin. What would you say?
The answer comes easily, rising from that place in your chest where hope has taken root.
"I'd say yes," you whisper.
Säla'ite squeals with delight, and you shush her frantically, looking around to make sure no one heard.
But your heart is racing now, anticipation building in your veins like electricity before a storm. If Säla'ite is right, if Tarsem really is trying to court you, then today might be the day everything changes.
You just have to wait for him to find his courage.
You don't see Tarsem again until late afternoon, when the sun is beginning its descent toward the horizon and the village is preparing for the evening meal.
You're walking back from the river, carrying a vessel of fresh water, when you hear voices ahead on the path. You recognize Tarsem's low rumble and Neteyam's higher, younger voice, and you slow your steps, not wanting to interrupt.
"—but why don't you just tell her?" Neteyam is saying, sounding exasperated. "You've been acting weird all day. Even I noticed, and I'm not exactly known for noticing things."
"It's not that simple," Tarsem replies, and there's a note of frustration in his voice that you've never heard before. "I can't just... what if she doesn't feel the same way? What if I ruin everything?"
Your breath catches. They're talking about you. They have to be.
"But what if she does feel the same way?" Neteyam counters. "You won't know unless you ask. That's what my dad always says—'Fortune favors the bold,' or something like that."
"Your father is much braver than I am," Tarsem says quietly.
"That's not true! You're one of the bravest warriors in the clan. You literally fought a thanator last month."
"Fighting a thanator is easier than this."
There's a pause, and then Neteyam says, with the blunt honesty of youth, "You're being a coward."
You expect Tarsem to be offended, but instead, he laughs—a short, rueful sound. "You're right. I am. I've faced down sky people and predators and I've jumped off cliffs into rivers, but I can't seem to find the courage to talk to one woman."
"So talk to her!" Neteyam sounds like he's about to shake Tarsem in frustration. "Just go up to her and say, 'I like you, I made you this thing, do you want to be my mate?' It's not that hard!"
"I made you this thing?" Tarsem repeats, amused despite himself. "That's your advice?"
"Well, you did make her something, didn't you? I saw you working on that necklace for weeks. It's really pretty. She'll love it."
A necklace. He made you a necklace.
Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure they'll hear it, even from around the bend in the path.
"I hope so," Tarsem says softly. "I've been carrying it around all day, waiting for the right moment, but every time I try to give it to her, something happens, or I lose my nerve, or—" He makes a frustrated sound. "I'm a mess, Neteyam. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Nothing's wrong with you," Neteyam says firmly. "You're just in love. My mom says it makes everyone act stupid."
"Your mother is a wise woman."
"So go find her! Before someone else does. I heard Takuk saying he thought she was pretty."
There's a moment of silence, and when Tarsem speaks again, his voice has an edge to it. "Takuk said that?"
"Yeah, yesterday. He was talking about maybe asking her to—"
"I need to go," Tarsem interrupts, and you hear the sound of rapid footsteps coming toward you.
You panic, realizing you're about to be caught eavesdropping, and you quickly duck behind a large tree trunk, pressing yourself against the bark and holding your breath.
Tarsem strides past, moving with purpose, his hand touching his belt where you now know he's keeping a necklace. A courting necklace. For you.
Once he's out of sight, you lean against the tree, your heart racing and a smile spreading across your face.
He's going to ask you. Today. Soon.
And you're going to say yes.
You find him near the training grounds, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
The sun is lower now, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. Most of the clan has gathered near the communal fires for the evening meal, but Tarsem is here, alone, clearly working up his courage.
You watch him for a moment, hidden in the shadows of the trees. He's talking to himself, you realize—practicing what he's going to say. His hands move as he speaks, gesturing emphatically, and every few seconds he touches his belt, as if reassuring himself that the necklace is still there.
It's endearing. This strong, confident warrior, reduced to a nervous wreck by the prospect of courting you.
You step out of the shadows, and he freezes mid-pace, his eyes going wide.
"Oh," he says, and his voice cracks slightly. "You're here."
"I'm here," you confirm, walking toward him slowly. "Are you alright? You've been acting strange all day."
He laughs, but it sounds slightly hysterical. "Strange. Yes. I've been... I'm fine. I'm good. I'm—" He runs a hand through his braids, messing them up again. "I'm terrible at this."
"Terrible at what?" you ask gently, even though you know. You want to hear him say it.
He looks at you, and in the golden light of the setting sun, his eyes are molten amber, full of emotion. "At telling you how I feel. At being brave enough to... to..."
He trails off, his hand moving to his belt again. This time, he pulls out the necklace.
Your breath catches.
It's beautiful. Delicate beads carved from wood and stone, interspersed with small crystals that catch the light. The pattern is intricate, clearly the work of many hours, and at the center hangs a pendant—a small carving of a flower that grows near the Tree of Souls, its petals detailed and perfect.
"I made this for you," Tarsem says, his voice rough. "I've been working on it for months, and I've been carrying it around all day, trying to find the courage to give it to you, but I kept—I kept failing." He laughs self-deprecatingly. "Some warrior I am. Can't even talk to the woman I—" He stops himself, swallowing hard.
You step closer, your eyes fixed on the necklace. "Tarsem, it's beautiful."
"You haven't let me finish," he says quickly. "I need to—I need to say this properly. I've been practicing all day, and I keep getting interrupted or losing my nerve, but I need to tell you." He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is steadier. "I see you. I have seen you for a long time now, and I can't keep pretending that I don't. I can't keep circling around you, hoping you'll somehow know how I feel without me having to say it."
Your heart is thundering in your chest.
"You are kind," he continues, his eyes locked on yours. "You are sweet and patient and you make everyone around you feel valued. When you smile, it's like the sun coming out from behind clouds. When you laugh, I want to do anything to hear it again. And I know I'm not good with words, and I know I've been acting like a fool all day, but I needed you to know that I—" He pauses, gathering his courage. "I want to court you. Properly. Officially. I want the chance to earn your affection, to prove myself worthy of you. I know I might not be, but I want to try."
He holds out the necklace, his hands trembling slightly. "This is my declaration. My promise that I will do everything in my power to make you happy, to protect you, to be there for you the way you deserve. If you'll have me."
The world seems to hold its breath.
You look at the necklace, then at Tarsem—this strong, dependable warrior who's been reduced to a nervous wreck by his feelings for you. This man who climbed to the top of the canopy to find you the perfect fruit, who spent months carving a necklace with his own hands, who's been trying all day to find the courage to tell you what's in his heart.
This man who sees you.
"Tarsem," you say softly, and you see fear flash across his face, like he's bracing for rejection. You smile, reaching out to cup his cheek with your hand. "I see you too."
His eyes widen, hope blooming in them like a flower opening to the sun.
"I've seen you for a long time," you continue. "I've watched you with the clan, with Neteyam, with everyone who needs you. I've seen how you're always there, always ready to help, always putting others first. I've seen your strength and your kindness and your patience. And I've been waiting—hoping—that you might feel the same way about me."
"You have?" His voice is barely a whisper.
"Yes." You laugh softly. "I've been watching you watch me, and I've been wondering when you'd finally work up the courage to do something about it."
He makes a sound that's half-laugh, half-groan. "I've been a coward."
"You've been careful," you correct gently. "But you don't need to be careful anymore. I want this too, Tarsem. I want you to court me. I want to see where this goes. I want—" You pause, feeling bold. "I want you."
For a moment, he just stares at you, like he can't quite believe what he's hearing. Then, slowly, reverently, he reaches up to fasten the necklace around your throat.
His fingers brush against your skin as he works the clasp, and you shiver at the contact. The necklace settles against your collarbone, the weight of it unfamiliar but welcome—a physical reminder of his feelings, his promise.
"It's perfect," you whisper, touching the pendant.
"You're perfect," he replies, and there's such sincerity in his voice that it makes your eyes sting with tears.
You look up at him, and the distance between you seems both vast and nonexistent. He's so close you can feel the heat of his body, can see the way his pupils have dilated, can hear the slight hitch in his breathing.
"Can I—" he starts, then stops, his eyes dropping to your lips. "May I kiss you?"
Your answer is to close the distance between you, rising up on your toes to press your lips to his.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like he's afraid you might disappear if he's too eager. But then you make a small sound of encouragement, and something in him breaks free. His arms come around you, pulling you close, and the kiss deepens, becomes something more urgent and real.
He kisses like he does everything else—with complete focus and dedication, like you're the only thing that matters in the world. His hands are gentle on your back, holding you like you're precious, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest.
When you finally pull apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against yours.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," he admits, his voice rough.
"Then why did you wait?" you ask, smiling.
"Because I'm an idiot," he says simply, and you laugh.
"You're not an idiot. You're just... careful."
"I'm done being careful," he says firmly. "At least when it comes to you. I've wasted enough time already."
You pull back slightly to look at him, and the expression on his face makes your heart swell. He's looking at you like you're the answer to every question he's ever had, like you're everything he's been searching for.
"So what now?" you ask.
"Now?" He smiles, and it's the most genuine, unguarded smile you've ever seen from him. "Now I court you properly. I bring you gifts, I spend time with you, I prove to you every day that choosing me was the right decision."
"I already know it was the right decision," you say softly.
"Then I'll prove it anyway," he replies. "Because that's what you deserve. The best of me. All of me."
You reach up to touch the necklace again, feeling the smooth beads beneath your fingers. "You've already given me so much."
"I've barely started," he promises, and there's something in his eyes that makes you believe him.
The sun has nearly set now, the sky painted in shades of purple and pink. In the distance, you can hear the sounds of the clan gathering for the evening meal, voices raised in laughter and conversation.
"We should go back," you say reluctantly. "They'll be wondering where we are."
"Let them wonder," Tarsem says, but he's smiling. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, and the simple contact sends warmth spreading through your whole body. "But you're right. We should go. I want everyone to see you wearing my necklace. I want everyone to know that you've agreed to let me court you."
There's a possessive note in his voice that makes your stomach flutter. "Proud of yourself, are you?"
"Proud that you said yes," he corrects. "Proud that I finally found my courage. Proud that I get to walk beside you." He squeezes your hand gently. "Is that so wrong?"
"No," you say, squeezing back. "It's not wrong at all."
You walk back to the village together, hand in hand, and you can feel the weight of the necklace against your skin with every step. When you emerge into the firelight, conversations pause, heads turn, and you see Säla'ite's face light up with delight.
Mo'at catches your eye from across the fire, and there's a knowing smile on the Tsahik's face, like she's been expecting this all along.
Neteyam whoops with joy, pumping his fist in the air. "Finally!" he shouts, and several people laugh.
Tarsem's ears flatten in embarrassment, but he doesn't let go of your hand. If anything, he holds it tighter, like he's afraid you might slip away.
You lean into his side, and he looks down at you with such open affection that it makes your breath catch.
"Thank you," he says quietly, just for you. "For saying yes. For seeing me. For being patient with me while I figured out how to be brave."
"Thank you for the necklace," you reply. "For the fruit. For all the almost-moments that led us here."
"There will be more moments," he promises. "Real ones. No more almost. No more circling. Just... us."
"Us," you repeat, and the word feels like a promise. Like a beginning.
The evening unfolds around you—food and laughter and music, the clan celebrating another day of life in the forest. But you're barely aware of it, too focused on the man beside you, on the warmth of his hand in yours, on the future that's suddenly opened up before you like a flower blooming in the sun.
Tarsem stays close to you all evening, attentive and affectionate in a way that makes it clear to everyone that something has changed between you. He brings you food, makes sure you're comfortable, includes you in conversations with a hand on the small of your back or your knee.
It's not possessive, exactly—more like he can't quite believe you're real, and he needs to keep touching you to make sure you're still there.
You don't mind. Every touch sends little sparks of warmth through you, and you find yourself leaning into him, seeking out his presence the way a plant seeks sunlight.
When the evening finally winds down and people begin to drift away to their hammocks, Tarsem walks you to your family's alcove. The village is quiet now, the fires banked to embers, the forest alive with the sounds of night.
At your doorway, he pauses, reluctant to let you go.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asks, and there's a vulnerability in the question that makes your heart ache.
"You'll see me tomorrow," you confirm. "And the day after that. And the day after that."
He smiles, relieved, and leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Sleep well."
"You too."
He starts to leave, then turns back. "The necklace—it looks beautiful on you. Even better than I imagined."
You touch it, smiling. "I'll wear it every day."
"Good," he says, and there's satisfaction in his voice. "I want everyone to know you're being courted. That you're..." He trails off, like he's not quite ready to say the word 'mine,' but it hangs in the air between you anyway.
"Yours," you finish for him, and his eyes flash with something hot and possessive.
"Yes," he breathes. "Mine. If you'll have me."
"I already said yes, Tarsem."
"I know. I just... I need to hear it again. I need to know this is real."
You step closer, rising up to press a quick kiss to his lips. "It's real. I'm real. This is happening."
He catches you before you can pull away, deepening the kiss for just a moment before releasing you with obvious reluctance. "Tomorrow," he says again, like a promise.
"Tomorrow," you agree.
You watch him disappear into the darkness, and only then do you allow yourself to fully process what just happened.
Tarsem—strong, dependable, wonderful Tarsem—wants to court you. Has been wanting to court you for months. Made you a necklace with his own hands and spent an entire day working up the courage to give it to you.
You touch the necklace again, feeling the careful craftsmanship, the hours of work that went into each bead. This is more than just a piece of jewelry. It's a promise. A declaration. A beginning.
And as you settle into your hammock, the necklace still around your throat, you can't stop smiling.
Tomorrow, you think. Tomorrow and all the days after.
With Tarsem.
Finally.
The next morning, you wake to find a fresh yovo fruit sitting outside your alcove, and beside it, a small carved figure—a tiny yerik, no bigger than your thumb, its details perfect and precise.
There's no note, but you don't need one.
You pick up the carving, running your fingers over the smooth wood, and your smile is so wide it makes your cheeks hurt.
Let's run away for a little while, my love | So'lek
Ironically I've just reread this to edit and now I'm not sure I like it.. but we ball! Posting it anyway!
Written for @junebugonjupiter 's Pandora In Bloom event! I couldn't resist doing another one, this time for my man So'lek! I've been playing a lot of Frontiers of Pandora and I'm obsessed with him🙂↕️ Also sorry for the title, I am terrible at titles
Pairing: So'lek te Elusa Kiro'itan x Female Sarentu!Reader
Content warnings: Pregnancy symptoms, hopefully nothing else (DM me if you want a warning added.)
Divider by @cafekitsune
Word count: 2.6k
Prompt 4 and 21 were og inspo but I realise I've kind of used a few other's now haha
Nobody really warned you about Pandoran summers. Growing up in the TAP program you'd obviously heard that summer could be ridiculously hot but you basically never got to experience them because Alma and Mercer thought it best to keep all the Sarentu kids inside. When you finally experienced summer for the first time, you thought it wasn't so bad, it was kind of nice to feel the heat of the sun on your skin. Well, that opinion has now changed because here you are, pregnant with your first child, overheating at all hours of the day because of that very same sun that you were enjoying just the year prior. You're still relatively early in the pregnancy, but you're showing already. Much to the delight of So'lek. He feels a deep sense of pride seeing you carry your child, and he's doing his best as your mate to look after you, often bringing you plenty of juicy fruits after his twice-daily survey of the area surrounding your camp for RDA. The fruits do help cool you, much to your own delight.
Unfortunately, So'lek also often receives the brunt of your foul moods. Had you just been dealing with pregnancy hormones, you'd probably have been fine and your chipper personality would remain intact, but with your sudden intolerance to the summer heat? It's like the absolute worst has been brought out of you. Ri'nela even said you'd scare off a thanator just by giving it one of your sharp stares. No weapons needed. But you often catch yourself when saying snappy comments to those closest to you, apologising with tears in your eyes because it makes you feel awful. So'lek especially. He's just trying to care for you and you get all snappy with him for some reason. He knows you don't mean it though, and never once has he taken the comments to heart, simply slicing up a fruit and presenting it to you whilst you sob out an apology. Little do you know, So'lek is planning something for you.
The light of sunrise begins filtering into your little camp, and you awake not only to the gentle sounds of nature, but to the sound of So'lek dutifully padding about doing.. Actually, what is he doing awake so early? The two of you are wildly in sync, and often wake around the same time. Groggy and already a little warm, you sit upright, your hair a bit of a mess, eyes not quite open and bare chested because you often sleep without all your torso accessories now that you're no longer rushing off into battle on a regular basis.
"Ma So'lek?" Your voice comes out soft and a little croaky, and you reach for the gourd of water that So'lek always keeps near the bed, chugging a good few mouthfuls before setting it back down. Your bleary eyes finally begin to focus as your mate comes over to you, kneeling in front of you to press a kiss to your forehead and rest his hand on the small swell of your belly.
"Ma yawne. I hope I did not wake you." He moves gently, like you're far more delicate than you actually are, and he noses at your temple gently before pulling back. You look half-asleep but he still thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"No, ma yawntu, you did not. But what are you doing?" You ask, attempting to peak around his broad shoulders but he simply cups both of his hands around your face, keeping your eyes on him.
"I have.. a surprise for you. Of sorts. Are you feeling well today? For travel, perhaps?" He asks this very carefully, knowing how often your symptoms fluctuate at the moment, and now you understand why he's holding you by the face like this. He wants to make sure you aren't lying to him. You take a deep breath and begin checking in on yourself.
Your eyes open, all bright and shiny with excitement at the prospect of going somewhere. Sure, you love this little camp, and you look forward to raising your baby here, but you're Sarentu. Travelling is kind of in your blood.
"I'm good! Really. A little sleepy still but good! We're doing good today."
Your use of 'we' causes a deep purr to emanate from So'lek's chest and a small, warm smile to grace his features. His hands relinquish their grip on your cheeks, one sliding down to your waist and the other resting over your belly once again. He can't help it. That's your baby in there. He gives a short nod in response.
"Good. We will fly today." His calm and casual tone does nothing to suppress the excitement bubbling through your body, and you shoot up, standing before him on the bed mat with the brightest smile he's seen from you since finding out you were with child. You haven't been able to fly with your ikran for almost your whole first trimester, save for one or two trips back to HQ, and even then, Anqa had to get you in the Samson because of how violently nauseated you were. But today you finally get to fly with your bonded again. So'lek places a steadying hand on your waist, smiling softly and shaking his head at your sudden energy.
"Come, ma yawntu," he murmurs, taking your hand in his own so he can help you get ready. He knows you don't need the help, it's just an excuse for him to keep touching his beloved. He helps you don one of your more comfortable torso accessories, you're more sensitive these days, but that is to be expected. He also wraps a loose travelling cloak around your shoulders, made with fibres that'll keep you cool for now and warm whilst flying. So'lek is not about to allow his beloved to get sick. Not now, not ever. When you're ready, he brings you to your ikran.
Telisi and Ìley are perched together, making little noises at each other like they're having a conversation until they realise you're both coming, shuffling around to meet their riders. Telisi let's out a particularly excited squawk and you can't help but run up to her excitedly, feeding her a slice of her favourite fish before rubbing her head gently.
"Ah, yawntutsyìp Telisi! We get to fly today! I've missed you," you coo, almost like you're talking to a baby, and Telisi bows her head towards your belly, making a small rumbling sound as she closes her eyes, her kuru presented for the bond. You quickly join with her, the strength of your bond shuddering through you both. It may have been months of no flying, but your bond is stronger than ever, probably thanks to the extra cuddles and treats you've been spoiling her with. You can feel Telisi's awareness of your current state, and it just strengthens her protectiveness over you.
So'lek just watches quietly, completely enamoured with you as always. He had already saddled both ikran, packed with food and blankets and supplies for the secret journey. He comes over to you both, giving Telisi a small pat as well before gesturing to get on, offering his hand to help. He meticulously adjusts your saddle, making sure you're safe, comfortable, and that neither you nor the baby are at any risk. He knows it is irrational, Na'vi women fly on ikran and ride Pa'li whilst far more pregnant than you are now, but he worries. In this moment, he's forgotten all about your well earned title of 'Death on Wings'.
"So'lek, you are fussing," you tease gently, a knowing smile on your face as you settle a hand over one of his. So'lek simply sighs and leans his head against your arm, giving a soft grunt in response which prompts you to lean down and kiss his head.
"We will be fine. Telisi will look after us."
"I know she will.. Your bow is here," he places a hand on one side of the saddle before touching the quiver of arrows next to it, "And you have plenty of arrows. Just in case.." You nod in response, knowing that he is just worried about you, especially with the RDA still lingering across Pandora.
"We will all be fine, ma So'lek. I am no less a warrior than I was before," you reply with that same teasing smile, poking his forehead to try and get him to ease up a little. So tense at the moment. "Now, let us go! I want to see your surprise.”
The flight is relatively easy, and it is so nice for you to feel the cool breeze brushing past your body instead of the sweltering heat that has been torturing you these past weeks. You and So'lek fly side by side just like old times, with you speeding ahead and teasing him and him just rolling his eyes but speeding up to catch up with you, and even surpassing you occasionally. You haven't felt this light and free in what feels like forever.
So'lek begins leading you in a particular direction, and you recognise the area to be Waterway Valley, where the land begins to dwindle into little islands before breaking off into the largest water mass you've seen yet. In your defence, you've never really left the Western Frontier. Not yet. So'lek leads you to a small spit of land a good bit past the River Delta Station. He lands just ahead of you, bow in hand as he scouts the area he was planning on setting up camp, making sure it's safe for you and waving you down when he's sure it is.
The little island has an alcove of sorts by the water, and there's plenty of trees for shade and safety as well as to set up the tarps and tent he'd brought for your little campsite. You notice that it is significantly cooler here. Given that Waterway Valley goes from an inland river to the open ocean, the cooler air makes a lot more sense. The physical relief the environment here offers is enough to make you a little emotional, damn pregnancy hormones, and before So'lek can even ask what is wrong, you throw yourself into his arms in the tightest hug you can currently muster.
"It is perfect here, ma So'lek. Irayo," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He chuckles quietly, his arms slipping around your waist as his forehead drops to yours.
"Anything for you, paskalin. Rest a while by the water, and eat something. I will set everything up, hm?" You're almost reluctant to pull away, pushing up against him a little more as a soft purr of contentment slips free, but eventually So'lek gives you a little pat on the hip, encouraging you to relax whilst he sets up camp.
"Alright. I am just over there, my love." His expression melts at how you speak to him, and he watches you walk away from him, eyes trailing over you with an almost wistful adoration as he takes in the way your body is changing, the smile on your face and the twinkle in your eyes. He has to physically tear his eyes off of you before he ends up following you into the crystal clear waters and getting nothing done.
You grab a fruit from one of the bags of supplies So'lek brought before moving to slip off the shawl around your shoulders, setting it on a rock by the water as you step into it, your tail swishing faster as the cool water laps at your ankles. Laughter bubbles out from your chest, ringing through the air and making So'lek's heart race and his movements hasten. He's eager to set up camp so he can rejoin you. You wade a little deeper into the water before plopping yourself down, sitting on the bank partially submerged and basking in the sunlight, finally getting a chance to enjoy the summer without feeling like you're being cooked alive.
So'lek's camp setup is simple and ready quickly. Sitting between a few trees is a tarp strung up high that Priya insisted he bring in case it rained, 'Pandoran weather is unpredictable,' she said. Beneath that is a simple fabric tent, dyed by the Aranahe with colours fitting for the Sarentu, and beneath that is a large hammock slung between two trees, with a thin blanket or two for the potentially cooler nights. Not to mention all the food he'd packed in preparation for your wild cravings. He finishes up, looking rather pleased with himself, before turning on his heels to find you right where you said you'd be. More or less, anyway. You're currently floating on your back in the little alcove, eyes closed and completely at peace as your arms move languidly to keep you afloat, fruit still clutched in one hand, your little bump just breaching the water with every little move. Every time he thinks you can't get more beautiful, you find a new way to take his breath away.
He wades into the water as well, eyes locked on your form, almost unblinking like he's afraid he'll miss something. He reaches your side quietly, arms slipping under your back and knees to pull you gently against him. Your eyes flutter open as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck with a smile, relaxing into his embrace in the cool water.
"You look beautiful, my love," he purrs into your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple. "So at peace."
"I am at peace, ma So'lek. Thank you for bringing me here." Your forehead gently presses against his cheek, and for a moment, you both just bask in the peace and quiet. The only sounds around you being that of nature, your own breathing, and the water gently lapping at the rocks of your little paradise.
"I am.. sorry. For how difficult I have been lately," you murmur quietly, guilt laced heavily into your tone as you gently run your fingers through So'lek's hair, toying with the little beads he has on one of his loose braids, including one you gifted him as a courtship gift. "I hope you can forgive me."
He simply sighs, a soft, fond little sound that makes you look up at him. His expression is the same as ever when it comes to looking at you, full of love.
"There is nothing to forgive, ma yawntu. I know you do not say or do things out of cruelty. You are doing a difficult thing, carrying our child, and you are doing it well." His words leave no room for argument, and right now, you're far more relaxed than you have been in weeks so any and all frustration you were feeling before has drained out of you. All that's left is peace and a desire to stay here as long as you can.
"How long can we stay here? I like it. I like our home too of course, but here is.. Special."
"Hm, it is, isn't it?" He pauses, looking around at the vast, open body of water just in front of them, how endless it seems and yet how peaceful this little island is.
"We can stay as long as you want, and we can always come back. Whenever you want." He presses another kiss to your head, "and we can bring our little one someday as well. Our own little escape." The satisfaction his answer provides silences you once again, simply resting in the arms of the man you love, the father of your child, the peace only interrupted by a brief, fluttering kick. Seemingly, the baby likes that idea as well.
you didn’t have any interest in suitors, you didn’t care for gift giving or the need for a mate. it all seemed useless to you, until a certain avatar crash landed in the forest.
written for pandora in bloom writing event by @junebugonjupiter
part two ꩜ prompt 33 — readers never been in love until now
the subtle nudge neytiri gave you sucked you out of your trance, the endless drag of mates and courting escaping the mouths of your sa’nok and sempul. it was all the same, find someone nice to carry the legacy. you didn’t really understand why though, neytiri was expected tsahìk—promised to tsu’tey who is supposed to be the next olo'eyktan.
“i don’t understand why it matters so much, no one in this clan interests me.” you groaned softly, eyes rolling to the back of your head in exasperation.
mo’at huffed, your behavior making her irritation run deep.“not even tarsem? he’s handsome and a very fine warrior, he would be fond of the thought of courting you.”
“not even tarsem.”
that being the final word before you stormed out the healers tent. you despised the expectations that were set on you, you didn’t want anything to do with it. it was an absolute distasteful subject to you.
you didn’t know if it was because of your late sister, who encouraged you to be free in your own way. not listen to your sempu about mates or the troubles of being an olo'eyktan’s daughter. you didn’t want to be the best, not the best warrior or weaver or singer—it didn’t feel right to you.
but with that comes the burden of feeling like a disappointment, not feeling enough. the weight on your shoulders sank further, the dip in the middle of your forehead creasing, you needed a place to think.
so you ventured further into the forest, the greenery easing your mind. the beautiful leaves and sounds of eywa living around you offered a lift off your chest. finally finding a quiet spot to rest your mind, you settled down.
“stupid stupid stupid.” you chanted, grumbling softly as you leaned against the bark of a tree. you couldn’t help but reminisce back to sylwanin. you missed her more and more everyday, even if eywa still connected you to her—it wasn’t the same as having her presence comfort you physically.
as your thoughts roamed, you didn’t notice the slow pace your chest rose at, the slowness of your breathe and the droopiness of your eyelids. before you knew it, your consciousness fully dissipated.
you had woken up with a sharp gasp, the once sun that had sunk into your deep blue skin vanished—the darkness of the night embraced you. “shit, sempu is gonna kill me.”
the nervousness of your fathers wrath made the quickness of your pace more swift, dodging the nature that surrounded you as you attempted to make it home without the notice of your family. which you knew was a very slim possibility.
when the sight of hometree entered your view, you breathed out nervously. what made your steps falter and curiosity grow was the gather of your people, your sempul and sa’nok standing over neytiri with a man you had never seen before. you could see tsu’teys’ distaste for the situation, his expression scrunched.
brushing shoulders with him, you whispered softly. “who is that?”
“a sky demon neytiri found, said she had seen a sign from eywa. jakesully.” the snarl that left him caught the attention of your mother, who narrowed her eyes at you. smiling sheepishly, you tried to hide your body behind the strong warrior, hoping he would conceal you from the discipline of the tsahìk.
her subtle head tilt made you sigh, stepping cautiously towards her whilst drawing the attention of the newcomer. your father had turned to you for a moment. “i will deal with you shortly.”
you caught a long glance at the human, his black hair framing his face with pieces falling onto his forehead gently, human clothes hiding the muscles of his arms and the soft structure of his face made your cheeks heat up innocently. he was handsome, to say the least. a part of you felt jealous that neytiri was the one to find him first.
“you will teach him our ways, he is your responsibility.” your mother addressed neytiri, her arms reaching out to touch at jakesullys. his five fingers sparking interest compared to your four. his anatomy was just slightly different, yet it was so similar, it created an uncanny nature to him.
“yes, sa’nok.” you watched as neytiri accepted, her rough nature showed that she wasn’t pleased with the task—yet, when it involves signs from eywa, she knew she couldn’t argue with it.
as jakesullys’ eyes met yours, you smiled softly at him. as lost and confused he was, you didn’t seem to have the repulsion everyone else did. more so, it being interest—where on earth was he from? why did he want to come to pandora? why did he seem so eager to learn of your people?
the boyish smile he reciprocated made yours grow, you could feel a hint of nervousness with how his eyes observed you. the flick of your tail moving beyond your control, your emotions all over the place as newfound feelings surfaced your heart and mind.
why did looking at this jakesully feel so different?
synopsis: On Tsu’tey’s birthday, what starts as a quiet morning between a grumpy warrior and his sunshine mate quickly turns into a day of stubborn pride, unexpected danger, and soft moments that remind them exactly why they chose each other.
content warnings: None. Mildly suggestive but mostly fluff!
wordcount: 4.5k
A/n: Written for the Pandora in Bloom writing event by @junebugonjupiter for Prompt 3: Grumpy x Sunshine and Prompt 25: Happy Birthday.
♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧
Tsu’tey never made things easy.
Not when you first arrived, stumbling through Pandora with a body that wasn’t fully yours yet, learning how to balance, how to move, how to exist in something so unfamiliar. And certainly not when you first met him.
He watched you like a problem that refused to stay solved—sharp-eyed, guarded, always ready to correct you before you even made a mistake. There was no softness in his first impressions of you, no patience either. Only skepticism.
You, on the other hand, had been nothing but sunshine and questions.
You didn’t fit in, not at first. You tripped over roots, misjudged distances, and laughed too easily at things others took seriously. Your voice was too bright, your curiosity too loud, your presence impossible to ignore. But you tried. You listened when he corrected you, even if you complained about it. You kept getting back up every time you stumbled. And somehow, that mattered to him.
It started small. so small you would have never noticed it if you weren’t paying attention.
A hand at your side as you climbed,
“Careful,” he muttered, voice low and edged with that familiar impatience, even though his hand still hovered near you for a second too long.
You shot him a quick look. “I am careful.”
“Clearly,” he said, glancing at the place where your foot had just slipped, though the faintest trace of something unreadable flickered across his expression before he looked away again.
“Aww, is big bad Tsu’tey worried about me?” you teased, a knowing lilt in your voice as you adjusted your footing and glanced back at him.
His expression barely shifted, though his eyes tracked you like they always did. “You are careless, If you’re going to climb, then climb. If not, go back to your Sky Demon friends.” he said flatly, stepping in just enough to steady you again before you could argue otherwise.
You shot him a look, adjusting your grip before answering.
“Nah,” you said lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’d miss me.”
He scoffed, gaze shifting away. “I would be glad to have you out of my hair. I have more important things to worry about than you falling from the trees like a child.”
And yet, he still steadied you.
His hands over yours, correcting each movement as you weaved,
He watched for a moment before stepping in, catching your hands mid-motion.
“Like this,” he muttered, voice tight with irritation as he guided your fingers, adjusting the thread with sharp, exact movements. “You are pulling it wrong.”
You stilled, glancing down at your hands where his still lingered, steady but unyielding.
“I’m doing it fine,” you said under your breath.
He scoffed, already correcting your grip again before you could argue. “No, you are not. You are forcing it. The weave will not hold if you rush like this.”
You huffed, trying again—but his patience didn’t improve.
“Stop that,” he snapped, tightening his hold over your hands to correct the angle, the pressure, the rhythm until it was exactly as it should be. “If you keep fighting it, you will only make it worse.”
“There,” he said, pulling back his hands like he couldn’t stand the process any longer, though his eyes were still fixed on your work. “Try again. Properly.”
You smiled slightly anyway. “See? I told you I was fine.”
He huffed, clearly unimpressed. “You are not ‘fine.’ You are stubborn. And careless.”
“And you would have ruined it without me.”
But even with all his complaints, even with the way he acted like you were an inconvenience he had no patience for, he never actually left.
And somewhere along the way, his voice became something you looked for. Not because it was gentle—it rarely was—but because it was consistent. Grounding. Real. And even when he was sharp, there was something steady in the way he spoke your name.
And over time, the distance between you narrowed.
You learned him.
The flick of his tail when he was annoyed. The way he listened more than he spoke. The quiet moments where he stayed just a little longer than necessary.
And he learned you.
Your persistence. Your warmth. The way you reached for connection like it was something worth holding onto.
♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧
That was a year ago.
It wasn’t sudden. It never was with him. It was slow, built in pieces. A year of shared hunts, quiet moments, small arguments that ended in understanding. A year of growing closer without either of you fully naming what was happening—until it could no longer be ignored.
Until you were no longer just someone he tolerated. You were his. His mate.
And the change shows in the smallest ways.
Now, when you curl against him, it isn’t accidental—it’s expected. His arm settles around you without hesitation, holding you close as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. His presence surrounds you—warm, grounding, familiar in a way that feels like home. There’s no question anymore, no distance left to cross.
And then you squirm in his arms.
Not enough to escape but just enough to annoy him. Enough to make his grip tighten instinctively around you, like he’s holding onto something that’s trying to get away.
“Tsu’tey…” you murmur, shifting again, trying to wiggle free from his hold. “Tsuuuuuuu'teyyyyyyy—”
No response.
“Tsu’tey. Wake upppppppppp~”
His arm tightens slightly, pulling you back into him as he exhales a low, irritated breath. Still asleep. Still refusing to acknowledge the fact that you are very much awake and very much trying to get his attention.
“Tsu’teyyyyy,” you drag out, voice soft but persistent, nudging his shoulder with your head.
“…No,” comes the muffled response, voice rough with sleep.
You grin. “Yes.”
His hold on you tightens just a little, as if trying to keep you in place through sheer stubbornness alone. “It is too early.”
You tilt your head, looking up at him even though he still won’t open his eyes. “You said that yesterday.”
“And it was true then as well,” he mutters.
You laugh softly under your breath, shifting closer instead of away now, settling back into him. “Come on,” you whisper, softer this time. “It’s your day.”
That gets a slight reaction.
His grip loosens just a fraction, his breathing changing slightly as he finally stirs—just a little—like he’s considering waking up.
“It’s a beautiful morning,” you insist, far too bright for the hour, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. You can’t just sleep the day away.”
His tail flicks once—sharp, irritated—and he shifts slightly under the blankets, trying to turn away from the sound of your voice. “It is not a beautiful morning,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep. “It is the ass crack of dawn.”
You snort softly at his grumbling, pressing closer instead of letting him pull away. “Mmm, and yet you’re still awake enough to complain.”
His arm shifts, tugging you tighter against his chest as if to silence you by sheer proximity alone. “I am awake enough to tolerate you.”
“Wow,” you say, pretending to be offended. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said all morning.”
He huffs, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he finally cracks one eye open to glance down at you. “You are being unusually loud.”
“I’m being festive,” you correct him, tilting your head back to grin up at him. “It’s your day.”
“My day,” he repeats, unimpressed, though his hand absently moves to your waist, steadying you as you squirm again.
You wiggle slightly in his hold, testing his patience on purpose. “Mm-hm. And on your day, I think you should do what I say.”
His brow furrows just a little. “That is not how this works.”
You hum thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chest. “It is when I say so.”
He exhales sharply, clearly not impressed—but he doesn’t push you away either. Which, in your experience, means you’re winning.
You lean in a little closer, voice dropping into something softer, more persuasive. “If you wake up and get up for me,” you murmur, tilting your head just slightly, “I’ll give you a special present tonight.”
That gets a reaction.
His hold tightens. His eyes open fully now, sharp and alert, all traces of sleep gone in an instant as he looks at you with a sudden intensity that makes you grin.
“…A present,” he repeats, voice lower now.
You nod innocently. “Mm-hm.”
There’s a beat of silence.
One moment he’s still half-lounging against the bed, and the next he’s already shifting, pulling himself upright with far more energy than he had any right to just seconds ago.
You blink, caught off guard. “Wow—someone’s motivated.”
He barely glances at you, already halfway sitting up. “You should have said that sooner.”
You laugh, reaching out to grab his arm as he moves too quickly, tugging him back just enough to stop him from fully getting up. “Hey—hey, slow down—”
“No,” he says immediately, but there’s something almost… eager in his voice now. “You said present.”
“I said later,” you correct him, trying to hold him back as he clearly considers ignoring you entirely and making his own plans.
His gaze sharpens slightly, a quiet, calculating look settling in. “Later can be now.”
You laugh again, shaking your head. “No, no, no—absolutely not.”
He pauses.
“…Why not?”
“Because,” you say, reaching up to gently tap his cheek, “first is breakfast.”
That makes him pause.
You can practically see the shift in his thoughts.
“…Breakfast,” he repeats, like he’s weighing whether that’s a reasonable sacrifice.
“Why bother with breakfast when I have you?”
“Tsu’tey!” you mutter, clearly indignant, shoving his shoulder lightly.
His gaze narrows slightly. “You are avoiding the present.”
“I am prioritizing your health,” you shoot back, already climbing out of bed, turning back with a bright grin. “And I even made yerik meat—your favorite.”
That gets his attention.
You don’t miss the way his posture shifts—subtle, but noticeable. Interest flickering back into his expression despite himself.
“…You cooked,” he says, tone suspicious.
You beam. “Of course I did.”
“…You did not burn it?”
You gasp. “Tsu’tey!”
His lips twitch. Barely—but it’s there.
You point at him, eyes narrowing playfully. “I am very capable, thank you very much.”
He watches you for a moment longer, clearly still thinking about your earlier offer—and clearly not entirely convinced about this “breakfast first” plan.
But then your expression softens just slightly, your voice turning warmer.
“Come on,” you say gently. “It’s your birthday. Let me take care of you for once.”
That gets him.
He exhales slowly, gaze lingering on you before he finally shifts, rising from the hammock with that quiet, controlled movement that is so very him.
“…You are fortunate,” he mutters, though he follows you without hesitation.
You grin, already leading the way. “I know."
“You’ll get your present later,” you add, voice teasing.
His eyes flick to you instantly.
“…You will not be allowed to take it back,” he says.
You laugh under your breath, walking ahead of him. “We’ll see about that.”
And just like that breakfast comes first.
Tsu’tey eats without complaint.
The meat is good—warm, seasoned just the way he likes it—and for a moment, that alone is enough to soften him. His shoulders ease, his grip on the food more relaxed than it usually is.
“Well?” you ask, unable to hide the hope in your voice. “Good?”
He hums low, setting another piece aside. “It is… acceptable.”
You gasp. “Acceptable?”
His gaze flicks to you, teasing. “You asked for honesty.”
You lean forward, pointing at him. “You are impossible.”
“And yet,” he says, finishing another bite, “you made it.”
You grin, leaning back again, satisfied with yourself as you watch him continue eating.
He takes another bite.
Then pauses.
His movements slow.
Not because of you—but because something has clearly crossed his mind.
You notice it immediately. The subtle shift in his posture. The way his jaw tightens just slightly as he chews, his eyes narrowing—not in anger, but in thought.
“What?” you ask, tilting your head. “Is it actually not good? you weren't joking?”
He swallows, gaze flicking briefly to you before looking past you, as if sorting through something in his mind.
“It is fine,” he says.
But his tone has changed.
You frown slightly, leaning forward. “That doesn’t sound like ‘fine.’”
He doesn’t respond right away.
Instead, he sets the meat down with more care than before, wiping his hands slowly. Then his eyes return to you—sharp, questioning.
“…Who gave you this?” he asks.
You blink.
“…What?”
“The meat,” he says, voice steady but edged now with something firmer. “Where did you get it?”
You hesitate, sensing the shift now. “I—well—I made it.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “That is not what I asked.”
You huff, crossing your arms. “I know what you asked.”
“Then answer.”
You roll your eyes a little, though there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. “I hunted for it.”
That does it.
His entire demeanor shifts, something deep and instinctive tightening in him, expression hardening. “You hunted,” he repeats, slower now.
You nod, completely unaware of the storm brewing. “Yes?”
“…Without me.”
It’s not a question.
You blink again. “Tsu’tey—”
He leans back slightly, arms crossing over his chest, gaze fixed on you now with unmistakable intensity.
“That is not your place,” he says, voice low, controlled—but firm. “You do not hunt alone.”
Your brows lift. “Excuse me?”
“You are my mate,” he continues, tone sharpening just a fraction. “You do not go out and provide for yourself as though I am not here.”
You stare at him, processing that. “…Oh. You’re not mad about the food, you’re upset because you didn’t hunt it.” you say slowly.
His jaw tightens. “…Yes.”
There it is.
You sigh, though there’s a soft fondness in your expression as you lean forward again, reaching out to lightly tap his arm.
“Tsu’tey…”
He doesn’t move, but he listens.
“You’re not the only one who can take care of things,” you say gently. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”
His eyes flicker to yours firm and sharp.
“…You did not need to.”
“I wanted to,” you insist.
His expression shifts just slightly—still serious, but now mixed with something quieter.
“…You are not to do it again,” he says finally.
You immediately whine, crossing your arms. “Why not? I’m perfectly capable.”
Tsu’tey’s gaze sharpens, his voice low and firm.
“Capable,” he repeats. “Or do you question my ability to provide for you now?”
You blink, caught off guard.
“I—what?”
His brow furrows slightly, voice tightening just a fraction.
“do you doubt my skill as a hunter?”
There’s a beat.
Then you laugh softly, shaking your head. “Tsu’tey—no, that’s not what I-”
But his expression is still serious—still watching you, waiting.
“Then do not do it,” he says simply. “You are my mate. I provide.”
You sigh, shaking your head as you step closer.
“What am I going to do with you?”
Before he can respond, your hand lifts, fingers slipping into his hair, gently combing through it. You notice the way he goes still under your touch—the tension in his shoulders, the tight set of his jaw. He’s still wound up, still thinking about it.
Still not pleased.
“You’re all tense,” you murmur, softer now, your thumb brushing lightly against his temple as you continue to play with his hair.
His gaze flicks to you, sharp but quiet. “I have reason to be.”
You hum, leaning in just slightly. That earns you a low, warning sound from his throat.
"All this because I went hunting?"
“You will not speak of it as though it is trivial,” he says, voice firm.
You smile a little, undeterred, fingers still moving through his hair. “It’s a little funny, though.”
His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into your touch just a fraction—subtle, but there.
“You test me,” he mutters.
“I know,” you say, completely unrepentant. “That’s kind of my job.”
A pause.
“Let’s go,” he said abruptly, not even finishing his breakfast.
“Go?” you asked, frowning as he stood, already reaching for his bow. “Go where?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he motioned for you to follow, ushering you out with the bow in his hand like it was the only explanation you needed.
“To remind you of my prowess as a hunter,” he said at last, voice flat but certain.
You let out a small breath, crossing your arms. “You don’t need to do that.”
He didn’t stop walking.
Of course he didn’t.
You huffed, hurrying after him. “Oh, fine—wait up!”
♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧
“So romantic, really—carrying you on my back while you bleed from a thanator attack,” you teased, adjusting your grip as you hurried toward the tsahìk’s tent. “Really living the birthday dream, aren’t we?”
He made a low, irritated sound behind you, his hand tightening slightly where it braced against your shoulder.
“This is not a joke,” he muttered, voice rough with both pain and frustration.
You felt it—the tension in him, coiled tight. Not just from the injury but from the embarrassment.
A thanator. Getting close enough to strike him. Because he had been distracted looking at you.
“I am fine,” he said more sharply, as if saying it enough times would make it true. “You can put me down.”
“Mm, no,” you shot back, shifting him higher on your back when he tried to move. “You’ll fall over and then I’ll have to carry you twice.”
He huffed, clearly unimpressed—but he didn’t argue again.
“If you had stayed where I told you, this would not have happened.”
“Oh, don’t start blaming me now,” you laugh. “You’re the one who said you’re the best hunter.”
“I am,” he says immediately.
You snort. “Sure. The best hunter who gets jumped because he’s too busy staring at his mate.”
His ears flick again, and this time there’s the faintest hint of embarrassment beneath the annoyance.
“…You talk too much.”
“And you love it,” you shoot back.
He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t deny it.
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The audacity of this woman.
Tsu’tey keeps his gaze forward as he is carried, jaw set, ears flicking back every now and then in lingering irritation. you are still talking—still teasing—as if the situation is not what it is.
As if he had not allowed himself to be distracted.
As if that distraction had not nearly cost him.
He exhales sharply through his nose.
First, you wake him at the ass crack of dawn—loud, insistent, entirely too bright for that hour. Then you drag him from his rest, challenge his skill, question his ability to provide—
And now you laugh. As though a thanator had not gotten close enough to strike. As though he had not been watching you instead of the forest.
His jaw tightens at the thought.
Unacceptable.
“…You should not find this amusing,” he mutters, voice low. You glance at him, completely unbothered. “I’m not laughing at that.” He doesn’t look at you. “You are laughing.” “Because you’re fine,” you say simply.
Fine.
He is fine.
Of course he is.
But that is not the point.
♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧
The hunt had been going well.
Tsu’tey had made sure of it.
He had settled her on a smooth, sun-warmed rock at the edge of the clearing, giving her a clear view of the path below. Safe. Out of the way. Exactly where she was supposed to be.
“Stay,” he had told her, firm.
She had rolled her eyes—but stayed.
Good.
From there, he moved.
A yerik had wandered too close, unaware, and Tsu’tey took his time with it. Not because he needed to—but because he wanted her to see. Every step measured, every movement controlled, quiet as the forest itself.
If she thought she could provide for herself, thought he was no longer capable, then she would be reminded.
What possessed her to go out and get meat on her own?
Did she think he could not provide for her anymore?
The thought alone had been enough to tighten something sharp and unpleasant in his chest. So he hunted.
And when the moment came, it was clean. Precise. Effortless.
As it should be.
When it was over, he straightened, already aware of her gaze on him before he even turned.
He didn’t rush to her.
Didn’t need to.
She came to him.
Her steps were uneven in her hurry, nearly tripping over a root before catching herself, eyes wide—comically so—as she reached him.
“Tsu’tey—” she started, breathless, hands immediately grabbing at his arm. “That was—did you see—of course you saw, you did it—”
“That was amazing,” she continues, words tumbling over each other. “Like—actually amazing. The way you moved and then just—” she gestures wildly, clearly trying and failing to recreate it, “—and it was just done?”
His ears flick slightly.
She looks up at him like he’s done something extraordinary.
“You’re so good at that,” she adds, softer now, but no less in awe.
The tension in his chest eases.
Slowly.
His pride, sharp and wounded before, settles back into something steadier. Familiar.
Of course he is.
♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧
His gaze sharpens slightly as he continues forward. “It should not have happened.”
You’re quiet for a moment beside him, your steps adjusting to his pace.
“…Yeah,” you admit, softer now. “Maybe not.”
He expects an argument or even a joke.
But instead, you nudge his arm lightly.
“But you handled it,” you add. “Like you always do.”
Tsu’tey glances at you then.
There’s no teasing in your expression now—just something steady. Certain.
It unsettles him more than your laughter did.
His pride had already demanded that he prove himself. That he correct what had been questioned.
But hearing it from you—unprompted, certain—
It settles something else entirely.
Still, his brow furrows slightly.
“…You should not have been there,” he says, quieter now. Less sharp. “If I had not seen it in time—”
“But you did,” you cut in, just as easily as before.
He exhales.
There is no arguing with that.
“…Stay closer to me,” he says after a moment, voice low, steady.
You don’t hesitate.
“Always.”
And that eased the tension in him more than anything else has since the forest went quiet.
♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧
Tsu’tey winces as you help him step into the kelku, his movements slower now, more careful than he’d ever willingly admit.
The visit to the Tsahìk had been… necessary.
He doesn’t like that.
Doesn’t like needing it.
But your hand is steady at his side, guiding him in without a word of complaint, and he allows it—just this once.
“Sit,” you murmur, softer now, helping him lower himself into the hammock.
He exhales as he settles, the tension in his body easing just slightly as the weight is taken off him.
You don’t linger.
You’re already moving—grabbing water, setting food nearby, adjusting things without being asked.
He watches you.
Quiet.
Attentive.
“…One hell of a birthday, huh?” you say after a moment, glancing back at him with a small, tired smile.
He huffs faintly. “It has been… eventful.”
You snort softly, shaking your head as you hand him the water. “That’s one way to put it.”
There’s a pause.
Then you sit beside him, your expression shifting—still warm, but edged now with something a little more serious.
“You know,” you start, nudging him lightly, “if you hadn’t gone all ‘I must provide for you’ this morning…”
His ears flick.
You continue anyway.
“We could’ve been celebrating your birthday my way.”
He glances at you, brow lowering slightly. “…Your way.”
You nod, leaning back just a little as you speak. “Yeah. We could’ve taken the ikrans out—gone up to the high mountains, where it’s quiet. Had an actual nice meal. No stress. No near-death experiences.”
A small huff of laughter leaves you.
“But nooo,” you add, teasing lightly, “someone had to prove a point.”
His jaw tightens just slightly, though there’s no real heat behind it now.
“…It was not about proving a point.”
You give him a look.
He holds it for a moment—then looks away.
“…Not entirely,” he admits.
You smile, softer now, reaching out to adjust something near his shoulder, your touch careful.
“Well,” you murmur, “now you’re hurt.”
There’s no accusation in it.
Just concern.
His gaze flicks back to you, quieter now.
“…I am fine.”
You hum, unconvinced, but don’t argue.
Instead, you settle a little closer, your hand resting lightly against his arm.
“Next time,” you say gently, “we do it my way.”
He studies you for a moment.
Then exhales slowly.
“…Next time,” he agrees.
“Come here,” he murmurs, voice rough but no longer annoyed.
You blink, caught off guard, but you don’t resist as he tugs you down beside him. The movement is clumsy, half-hearted in its urgency, like he’s not fully awake but still knows exactly what he wants.
You settle against him, careful of his wounds and this time, he doesn’t complain.
"tsu'tey?"
"Yes, my litle vrrtep?"
"Happy birthday."
“It’s not really a happy birthday until you give me the gift I was promised,” Tsu’tey smirks, watching her closely.
She blinks, clearly confused. “What gift?”
His expression shifts—subtle, but unmistakably knowing—as he repeats her words from earlier, his voice dropping into a quiet mimicry. “If you wake up and get up for me, I’ll give you a special present tonight.”
She freezes for a second, realization just beginning to dawn. “…Oh.” A soft blush creeps up her cheeks, color blooming beautifully under his gaze.
Tsu’tey’s eyes narrow slightly, clearly pleased. “There it is. so, what did you have in mind?"
She huffs, trying to recover. “Not a crippled mate, that’s for sure."
For a split second, Tsu’tey goes still. Then, without warning, he wrestles you beneath him tickling you without mercy until you’re laughing and squirming beneath his grip.
Your laughter subsides only when he leans down and kisses you, the sound soft and light between you, your smile breaking through as you melt beneath him.
His arm shifts around you, pulling you closer, grounding you against his side as though you might slip away if he lets go.
The morning, no longer quite so early, settles into a quiet calm around you. No longer something to fight, but something to rest in.
It was a memorable birthday indeed.
♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ✧
very poorly proofread 😭 i’ve been busier than expected today!! tbh didn’t know if i’d finish this in time, so i thought—why not write a miles quaritch drabble to soothe you all. but now that this one is (mostly) done, you can expect the miles version of “porcelain doll” tomorrow 👀
summary: It's Neteyam's 18th birthday, and you've finally decided this was the day you were going to confess your not-so-tiny crush on him. When you finally gathered up the courage, you didn't know you had an audience.
warnings: Pining, FLUFF, wordless confessions, a little anxiety.
word count: 1,6k
The day had gone by like any other day in the Omiticaya clan, besides the whispers and congratulations thrown around towards the Sully family, but none of them came from you. You felt bad that you hadn't seen the eldest Sully son all day; you'd basically spent every moment of daylight together, but today was different. Not only was it his birthday, but it was the day you would finally tell him how you felt about him. It scared you to even think of his face. His stupid, handsome face.
You tugged at your skin atop your collarbone as you begged for your mind to focus on the salve in front of you rather than the dread of the possible rejection you could face tonight. Your plan was simple, really simple, and a tad suspiciously too planned. You'd spent most of the day by the river, just outside the village, collecting the tiniest iridescent shells on the outskirts of the water. Picking up only the ones that you thought he would like. When you'd finally arrived back in your own pod, you had exhaled anxiously, but grateful your family wasn't there tonight.
They knew how much you liked him. Eywa, the whole village seemed to know at this point. The way you looked at him, the way you always listened intently to everything he said, the way you seemed to reboot every time his hands touched yours. And this only caused your 2 older brothers (and Lo'ak) to tease you relentlessly.
You had crushed the shells into small, sand-like sizes, mixing them with a bit of salve that smelt like the flowers commonly found on trees around the village, which Neteyam had brought you the night before.
You stood in the corner of your home pod, rubbing your hands against your skin, praying to Ewya that the salve would dry soon, leaving your skin with small iridescent markings along your stripes. Among the salve prayers, you hoped he felt the same. A part of you thought it was possible. A sickeningly hopeful part of you. He would always walk beside you in the village, following you towards the rivers. He hunted with you, always a step forward with his arm flicking in front of you at every noise he didn't recognise. He would bring you your favourite fruits or flowers every night, wishing you sweet dreams, and every time, a grin would fill his face as he said, 'But then you'd have to dream of me.'
It really wasn't fair anymore. You didn't know if all those moments were something deeper, or just you hoping they meant something to him, the way they meant something to you. Which is why you now stood in the village, face tinted a warm purple as you looked around the fire.
Na'vi danced around the fire, children ran between them giggling, and some warriors scattered, sitting on the floor, rehashing their hunting stories. And yet, you didn't stand close enough to join in on the celebrations. You couldn't. To put it lightly, you were nervous. Your hands shook slightly while you played with the edge of your loincloth that clung to your hips, waiting to hear a familiar voice or see a familiar face somewhere in the crowd.
This is pathetic, really.
You thought as you stood. He probably doesn't care that he hasn't seen you today-
"Hey, Sevin (pretty)." You quickly turned around to find him standing right behind you. Close. So close you could see the illumination of his freckles across his muscles. You swallowed.
"Hey.." you smiled more shyly than usual. " I haven't seen you all day," he pointed out, his voice warm, taking another step closer. This time, reaching out to hold your forearm in his hand.
"I know, I'm sorry," you exhaled. It was pointless trying to think of an excuse. You couldn't tell him that you had spent the entire day pacing around the river just to look nice for him. That you spent hours convincing yourself that you could tell him. Hoping that when he saw your skin sparkle, he could possibly mistake it for an actual spark.
He reached his other hand towards your collarbone, his calloused fingers dragging across the bone gently as he traced your bioluminescent freckles that were covered in smaller pieces of glitter, which reflected a different shade of light every time your chest moved with your lungs. He noticed instantly that you had painted the highlights of your body with your salve. He always did. And he knew you only ever did it when you felt that a special moment deserved it or simply wanted to feel prettier. Not that you need it, he always thought, but he would be lying if he said it didn't make you look more ethereal than normal. His heart quickened its pace, but his face didn't show it. Only a pleased, thoughtful grin plastered his face as he spoke, "For me?"
You scoffed. Terribly. Even you could tell it was fake. "No. For me". It wasn't entirely a lie. Yes, you hoped he would think you looked pretty, but a part of you felt better knowing that he liked it. A part of you hoped he knew that it was for him. And that part of you was needed if you were going to bring up the courage to tell him anything tonight.
He shook his head, displeased, but his smile never faultered "It better be for me if it's staining my fingers tonight". Your poor heart couldn't take it anymore. Not his tender voice, not his tender fingers that burned your skin, not his tender eyes that never looked away from you.
You grabbed his arm, firm but gently, and dragged him away. You could hear his quiet, amused laugh behind you, but you paid too much attention to the sound of your own heart that jumped to the rhythm of his voice. You didn't know why you brought him outside the pods of your homes. The only thing you wanted right now was privacy, and considering the time of night and the burning fires deeper in the village, you figured everyone was dancing there, leaving their homes unattended. If you had to walk all the way into the forest now, you were scared you would convince yourself not to tell him anything at all.
"Sevin, what are you doing?" he spoke gently, curiosity slipping off his voice, syrupy slow. This is it.
You turned to face him."I- I wanted to tell you. For the longest time. I really did, but then I was scared, and you.. Well, you being you, always confident. It's not easy, okay!" You spoke so fast that you forgot to take breaths in between your words. Searching his eyes for some sort of recognition at your words, your almost confession, but you found nothing but amusement.
"So you're telling me something today? For my birthday?" he looked calm. Too calm, and it irritated you how much you had to say tonight.
"Yes," you didn't know what more to say. "Happy birthday?.." Okay, maybe not that. You could see he was expecting more, confusion, and entertainment in his eyes. Speaking wasn't working, and before he could continue, you did the only other thing you've ever wanted to do.
You kissed him.
His eyes widened at the touch. Not quite registering what was happening. You didn't know how long he wanted to do this himself. He noticed that your voice was shaky tonight, and he hoped you would finally tell him how you felt. He knew. But he never wanted to rush you. And truthfully, he enjoyed making you blush every time he leaned in too close, every time his tail brushed your thigh, every time he told you that you were beautiful, but he never expected you to be the one to kiss him.
The way both your hands rested on the sides of his face, the slight tremble in them, noticeable, only melted him, while your tail wrapped itself around his thigh. You pulled back quickly, regretful. He didn't move when you kissed him. Maybe you were wrong.
Your thoughts shattered as he stepped forward, following your lips like a viperwolf cub, eyes full of something you couldn't name. Your heart hammered fast. But as he leaned down, that's when you noticed it. Behind his shoulder, his family. Right at the entrance of their pod. Every single Sully stood eyes wide, staring right at you. You placed your hand quickly on his chest as you breathed his name. He turned himself around, following your widened gaze. He stiffened quickly, "shit.."
"Surprise?.." Lo'ak finally broke the quiet. Lifting his arms in mockery, with a small, awkward smile on his face.
Mortified.
That is what you felt. Not only had you kissed Neteyam, but you did it with his family watching. The only thing that kept your heart from fully falling out of your chest was how Neteyam chased to kiss you again.
You didn't know what to do. So you tried to run. Very stupid. Very much impossible when Neteyam grabbed your arm, keeping you in place. His pupils took up most of the space in his eyes, his smile sickly sweet with a glint of mischief, as he turned back to his family with no words.
Neytiri breathed out slowly, nodded once, and spoke, "Finally".
That was all she said as she turned back into the pod, a small, barely noticeable smile on her face. Your heart lightened. If the whole village knew about your crush on the eldest Sully boy, then his family probably did too.
Jake grinned, ear to ear, "Took you two long enough", he said before following his mate inside. You blushed a dark purple, looking down at your feet.
Neteyam leaned closer, and your ears twitched as you felt his breath. Your confidence slipped away, morphing you back into your usual shy self. "Come with me."
Guys this is my first Avatar post eeeeeek!!! Let me know what you think!!!
Written for pandora in bloom writing event by @junebugonjupiter!
Prompt 25: happy birthday
@cottoncloudcake told me about this! 🩵 Go check out her blog!!!
