Main Masterlist | "All energy is only borrowed, and one day you have to give it back." ── Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite, Avatar
𓏲⋆ ִֶָ 𓂃 ⋆ Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan ── .✦
Outsiders - Neteyam x fem!Metkayina!reader 2k words; fluff 𑣲
⋆˚࿔ Despite your uninterests in getting to know the Omatikaya guests, you’d somehow managed to capture the attention of the eldest brother and Neteyam messed up by doing the one thing your brother told him not to. Plus Lo’ak being the captain of the ship.
The Songcord - Neteyam x gn!Omatikaya!reader 3.1k words; angst
⋆˚࿔ You were only Tuk's age when Lo'ak found you all those years ago, and ever since, you've been inseparable with the Sully kids. One in particular, takes a liking to you, though he tries not to show it.
Dangerously Envy - Neteyam x fem!reader 1.9k words; jealousy
⋆˚࿔ After promising to spend a day with Neteyam, he finds his patience tested when other males from his clan interrupt your time together to flirt with you. Worst part is, he can't really do anything about it. Not when he has to make peace with everybody as the future Olo'eyktan, and definitely not when they think you're his "sister".
Little Secret - Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya!reader 11.9k words; secret dating
part 1, part 2
⋆˚࿔ Being in a relationship with Neteyam is not as simple as one might think. The two of you are constantly navigating through your feelings, the rights and wrongs, the do's and dont's, all whilst keeping the whole thing hidden from his family. Naturally, he pretends to hate you for the sake of the secrecy, but Neteyam is starting to grow tired of keeping you as his little secret.
The Omatikayan Prince - Neteyam x gn!human!reader 3.4k words; hidden feelings
⋆˚࿔ The Omatikayan prince was attractive. His looks and status alone were enough to make even the most beautiful girls crave his attention, but Neteyam had always responded in reserved politeness. Who would've thought that the reason behind it was you, a little human who could bring the Olo'eyktan's son to his knees with just a bat of your eye.
Born of Fire, Loved by the Forest - Neteyam x Mangkwan!reader 4.5k words; forbidden love, enemies to lovers
series masterlist
⋆˚࿔ When Neteyam finds you on the battlefield, a Mangkwan; injured, he decides against killing you.
Drabbles .☘︎ ݁˖
The Spirit Tree - gn!Omatikaya!reader
Wandering Human - fem!human!reader
Something to Take the Edge Off, Literally - fem!reader
dad!neteyam - fem!reader
soft!neteyam - fem!Na’vi!reader
Headcanons .☘︎ ݁˖
Neteyam with Tsireya’s sister - fem!Metkayina!reader
Neteyam with Tonowari’s firstborn daughter - fem!Metkayina!reader
Seeing Neteyam for the first time in years - fem!Omatikaya!reader
𓏲⋆ ִֶָ 𓂃 ⋆ Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan ── .✦
But We’re Different - Lo’ak x fem!avatar/human!reader 3k words; hurt/comfort
⋆˚࿔ Some boys in the clan weren’t too friendly. They’d somehow convinced Lo’ak that you, a human, would never choose an outcast, let alone a na’vi, as your mate. You were left to figure out why he was unusually pulling away from you so much.
Not so Little Crush - Lo'ak x gn!human!reader 6k words; fluff n angst
⋆˚࿔ His mother has never been a fan of humans, but to Lo'ak, they're just people looking for a second chance at a home. Well, except for you. Pandora has been the only home you've ever known, so he hopes his mother sees reason with you, especially with how you seem to be the only person who truly sees him.
Lo’ak’s Little Secret - Lo’ak x fem!Omatikaya!reader 5,6k words; unreciprocated love
⋆˚࿔ When Lo’ak found out that you and Neteyam had been secretly dating all along, he couldn’t help but feel conflicted.
Headcanons .☘︎ ݁˖
Lo’ak with a Metkayina Mer - gn!reader
𓏲⋆ ִֶָ 𓂃 ⋆ Ao'nung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan ── .✦
Heartfelt - Ao’nung x fem!Sully!reader 2.6k words; second chances
⋆˚࿔ You knew Ao'nung picked on your siblings, especially your twin brother, Lo'ak, but he'd been so taken with you when you'd first arrived, you never would've expected him to put your brother's life at risk.
Should’ve Saved Me Sooner - Ao’nung x gn!Metkayina!reader 1.7k words; hurt/comfort
⋆˚࿔ Ao'nung isn't the most gentle person, that you've know since you were children. But when you injure yourself one day, the gruff man suddenly becomes so insistent on helping you, and is quick to become frustrated when he's not gentle enough.
Courting Rituals - Ao’nung x gn!Omatikaya!reader 1.5k words; idiots in love
⋆˚࿔ Getting tired of your obliviousness to his attempts at flirting with you, Ao'nung decides to make a bold move that you can't possibly ignore, right?
Little Getaway - Ao'nung x gn!Metkayina!reader 1.6k words; fluff
⋆˚࿔ Loud festivals weren't really your thing, that much Ao'nung knew. So when he found you sitting alone on the outskirts of the village, he offered to go for a swim, knowing you wouldn't be able to resist the little getaway.
Drabbles .☘︎ ݁˖
A Little Push - fem!reader
The Right Way - fem!Sully!reader
you’re a troublemaker - Na’vi!reader
Headcanons .☘︎ ݁˖
Being Ao’nung’s expected mate - gn!Metkayina!reader
Being Ao’nung’s Sully mate - fem!Sully!reader
𓏲⋆ ִֶָ 𓂃 ⋆ Colonel Miles Quaritch ── .✦
Na’vi - Colonel Quaritch x fem!Tawkami!reader 2.4k words; strangers to lovers
⋆˚࿔ Injured and stranded, Quaritch has no choice but to trust you, a na'vi who decides to help instead of killing him. Will you learn to fall in love with the dream walker as you nurse him back to health?
summary: Broken by the fall of the Hometree and Eywa's silence, you dream for a possibility of peace of mind, figuratively and literally. You come to the Metkayina's village looking for a temporary refuge in your search of said peace, and end up never leaving in favour of love.
pairing(s): tonowari x omatikaya!reader, platonic reader x neytiri
word count: 15k (i know...)
warnings: reader is neytiri's sister, grief and mourning, mention of dead bodies, eywa's constant meddling, probably suggestive, yearning, pining, "but i don't want ninat", added lore cuz i got carried away, kinda miscommunication, no ronal hate, space racism?, complex neytiri i fear...., mentioned pregnancy, mentioned childbirth, rotxo is adopted lmao, when the story starts reader is around 19 and both neytiri and tonowari are around 22, takes place after avatar (2009), proofread one time instead of the two usual times so pls let me know if there are any errors
author's note: can't believe this fine shyt is now a single dad
dividers from @uzmacchiato!
When the smoke clears and the ashes fall, nothing is left of the Hometree.
Nothing but the stump, the bulging roots and the cut-off part remain of your destroyed home. You’ve never seen one, but you think that the remains of the tree must look like a decapitated corpse — something that once was full of life, and now is just… there. A reminder of what was.
Many managed to evacuate the branches as it fell, but just as much ended up being buried by its massive limbs; you can’t find it in yourself to understand if it was a blessing — for them to have such a quick death, one that avoided them from feeling the endless grief you’re feeling now — or a tragedy. You keep asking Eywa the same question, but either she doesn’t know, or she won’t tell you.
She hasn’t been telling you much lately, anyway.
As the daughter of the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk, you grew up close to the bond you shared with Eywa. Mo’at always brought you and your sisters along with her to pray, and the three of you soon learnt how to perceive her in everything you did and everything that happened. The Great Mother is in all of us, your mom used to always say, before you fully grasped the concept. She gives, and we take. And when the time comes, we’ll be the ones to give back what we borrowed.
It looks like, to you, that the time has come. Only, Eywa won’t seem to take anything from you.
During the day, you’re back at the ruins of the Hometree, with a few other Omatikayas looking for the remains of their loved ones. When they are easy to remove, you do so, and then give them the burial they deserve as a part of the People; when the branches have buried them too deep in the terrain for you to remove them, you pray for them and their souls, hoping that they are, at last, at peace.
At night, you pray by the Tree of Souls until the first morning lights shine through the outline of the mountains, when your mother wakes and gently drags you to the marui you share with her and orders — more like begs — you to sleep. “You won’t be able to hear Eywa better if you tire yourself so, daughter,” she utters as she holds you tight in her arms, humming that same lullaby she used to when you were little. “I doubt she wants you to be exhausted.”
You sniffle brokenly, hiding in her shoulder like a child as she covers you with the blanket she had stitched with the help of Sylwanini and Neytiri when she first realised she was pregnant with you. It’s a miracle you managed to salvage it from the fall of the Hometree, as most of your belongings have been lost during it. “We still haven’t found Tsu’tey, sa’nok,” you whisper, muffling a sob.
Mo’at sighs softly, holding you tighter. “Oeyä yawne,” my beloved, she starts, “Tsu’tey died a great death. Even if you do not find what remains of him, I’m sure Eywa will hold him close nevertheless. He fell into the ocean, after all — she’s strong there, too. We might not think of it to be our home, but everywhere Eywa is, can be considered our home.”
Still, it’s hard to believe that Jakesully out of all people is helping rebuild your village.
He’s supposed to be one of the aliens that came from the sky — one of the four-fingered demons that have destroyed your home. And somehow, Eywa still chose him to lead the Omatikaya.
You don’t deny his bravery, nor his will to learn your ways, nor the fact that he is a great warrior — Turuk Makto, in fact. It doesn’t mean that it isn’t hard for you to look at him and not see the Hometree lying dead on the ground, burning, and the Tree of Voices reduced to shreds under the dozers.
You know it’s probably just your grief talking — you’ve never had anything against the man, not even when he first came here, blabbering about wanting to learn the way or whatever the RDA had put in his head — but you don’t know what else to do. When you’re not looking around for the corpses of the fallen, or praying for them, or begging Eywa to tell you the meaning of all of this, you’re either crying or trying to sleep — and when the latter comes, it’s never restful.
Neytiri is grieving, too, and you know it, but she takes it differently — because she has Jake, and she’s putting all she has into building a new, safe village, where maybe one day their kids will grow happily. But you feel stuck — like when it fell, the Hometree swallowed you, too, along with all the fallen comrades that you had known for your whole life.
Your answers finally come during another restless night spent under the Soul Tree.
Your mother has since stopped trying to coax you away from it — instead, she has taken to making salves and weaving shawls under the light of the branches as you weep silently for a sign, the terrain still against your body, unlike the usual steady beat you used to feel. Sometimes Mo’at braids your hair, other times recalls stories of your father and sister, but mostly lets you cry it out — even if her heart breaks every time a tear slips down your cheek. Neytiri sometimes comes along, chanting her songs and saying her prayers, but lately, she’s taken to spending her nights in the tent she calls home, with Jakesully.
(Not that you blame her. If you had a mate, you’d probably find comfort in them, too. If you had a mate, maybe you wouldn’t be so utterly hopeless.)
It’s when you find sleep while having these thoughts that finally, Eywa responds to your call in the best way she knows — a dream.
You feel like you’re floating, and finally, finally– you can feel her presence. She’s everywhere, surrounding you with her warmth, and it’s just when you look around to understand where you are that you notice that you are underwater. Life swarms you from every angle — the fishes twirling in a dance only they can understand, anemones and corals shimmering with bioluminescence on the rocks under your feet.
You don’t know for how long you swim, but what you know is that you haven’t felt this feeling in what seems like ages. You have missed the Great Mother’s presence, and if this dream tells you anything, it’s that maybe, she has missed you, too.
A large, warm hand engulfs yours. You can’t see the face of the man that has taken it, but by the color of his skin, he can’t be Omatikaya. Come with me, a voice says, and you aren’t able to really distinguish it — it does not sound like a real voice, rather like a spoken thought inside your mind. Our Spirit Tree is this way. You feel the same hand on the small of your back, guiding you in the water, in a way so gentle that you already dread the moment his touch will fade.
You wake up with your hand still feeling warm and dried tears staining your cheeks. The ground you’re lying on feels stiff and cold. Hoisting yourself up on your elbows, you notice the sky — it’s still night — and your mother, sleeping with her head leaning on the trunk of the tree. “Are you trying to tell me that I have to find my peace somewhere else?” you murmur quietly to the tree, impossibly tired in every way imaginable. And maybe it’s just an impression, or your lack of sleep, but you think the branches glow a little more than usual at that.
The hard part is not accepting to leave behind the Omatikaya — in your heart, you knew that a part of you died when the Hometree fell, and no new village would ever make up for what the sky people have taken away from you; every camp made after that would only look like a ghost of what was, where you grew up in.
No, no. The hard part is convincing both the Tsahìk and the Olo’eyktan to let you go.
By the time morning comes, your bags are already packed. Your ikran, Ry’ia, is waiting for you just outside of the village chirping softly with Neytiri’s mount, Sa’atra, as you pull on your traveling shawl and wait for the villagers to wake up before your departure. Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for chaos to erupt.
Neytiri drags you away from the astounded clan members as soon as she gets wind of what’s happening, Mo’at and Jakesully on tow when she sits you down in one of the newest tents, her face unreadable as she takes a seat in front of you. “Explain.”
You look at her mate and your mother, sitting respectively on her left and on her right, and suddenly your heart fills up with courage you weren’t even aware of having. “I had a dream last night,” you start, “Eywa has shown me where to find my peace again.”
As you recall your vision, you can tell that the only one fully understanding the meaning of it is your mother, because while Jakesully doesn’t look too troubled about it, Neytiri hasn’t had that betrayed look on her face towards you since you were seven, and you stole the last piece of fruit intended for her. “What?” she asks in pure disbelief, “Wha– why would you ever think of going away from here, sister? We have plenty of men who would be delighted to have you as their mate. We have the ocean. We have fishes. Do you really have to look for them from another clan to be happy?”
You shake your head, guilt seeping through your chest. “Sister, if I could be happy while being here, close to you, I would stay. But…” Your eyes drift up to Jake and immediately go back to her, not wanting to blame him for all the things humans have done to you. “I can’t find it in myself to build a new village that Tsu’tey, father– hell, Sylwanin won’t see. And even if I could…”
You scroll your shoulders, “Eywa has shown me the way,” you say firmly, “and I will follow it.”
Neytiri looks over to Mo’at, searching for support in the discussion. “Mother, please, tell her this is madness,”
She looks at her for a singular moment, then to you. Finally, she speaks. “When I was your age, I had a dream, too. It led me to your father.” The story isn’t new to you — everyone knows Mo’at was part of the Orangi clan before she married your father.
Neytiri stares at her, “Mother, you can’t be serious– she doesn’t even know where–”
“How can she know, if she does not try?” The Tsahìk interrupts her, “Eywa has shown her that she won’t find peace while living here. These things are rare, but they happened. That was my case, at least.”
Your sister gapes at her, flabbergasted, only to look back at you, getting back up on her feet. “If you leave,” she hisses, “I will never forgive you.” She storms out, her tail twitching after her, leaving the tent feeling even colder than before.
Finally, you manage to look at Jakesully straight into his eyes, trying to avoid the glare your mother is sending him, and you’re surprised to see an actual understanding of the situation there. “You do understand why I can’t stay here, do you?”
He blinks, sad. “I do.”
You nod, “Good. I would never ask you to leave — this is your home, too, after all. And it would mean sacrificing Neytiri’s happiness. I’d rather be happy here too, but… I can’t do that. Not while my loved ones lay under the Hometree, dead.” you shake your head, ashamed of what you’re about to say, “Not while you are here living the life they deserved. I am sorry, Jakesully.”
Tentatively, he places a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay,” he mutters, sorrowful, “I know you would stay here if you could. Just… please, do not go today. Wait until the end of the week. Let me talk to your sister– I’ll try to change her mind.”
As he leaves to go look for Neytiri, you are left with your mother. Your eyes remain downwards, all the courage of before gone after your sister’s outburst, your heart feeling heavier than ever. Needless to say, when she moves to hug you, you’re left stunned — you were waiting for her to tell you you were mad, too. “I am sorry, daughter,” she says, her usually firm voice trembling, “I did not understand your pain was so great. I thought Eywa had in her plans to keep my daughters close to me, but if having you far from me is the price for your happiness, then I’ll gladly take everything that comes with it.”
You avoid mentioning her teary eyes when she pulls back, her hands holding your shoulders. She sniffles, trying to save face. “The Metkayina are the only sea clan your father’s ever had contact with,” she manages, "their Olo’eyktan may still remember him. You should start your search from there.”
In the following days, you are smothered with gifts.
Everyone makes something for you to take on your travels, or to give to the chiefs of the foreign clans you’ll visit. Your friends Ninat and Peyral stitch a beautiful shawl in record time, stitched beads and feathers in it. So that you may have something to remember us by, Peyral explains, emotional, as Ninat nearly bursts into tears.
Your mother makes a Tsahìk necklace typical of the Omatikaya and tells you to give it to the wife of the chief. Showing respect to your hosts is always important, remember. Do not forget your culture, but do not force it on them, either.
Even Jake turns up one night, giving you a funny-looking bone knife that he clearly has just learned how to carve. “As a… parting gift?” he tells you, even if it sounds more like a question. His ears bend down, “I’m sorry you feel like you have to leave to be happy. I wish things didn’t have to be this way.” I wish you could overcome our differences like your sister did.
You look at the knife — the jaggedy blade looking ugly but clearly heartfelt — and then back at him. “You’re a good man, Jakesully,” you tell him. “I am truly sorry that my opinion on you has to be stained by what your kind has done to us — but perhaps, it’s just because things are a little too fresh. Perhaps, I just need some time away from here.”
Neytiri doesn’t come looking for you until it is time for you to go. As you say your goodbyes to friends and everyone you grew up with, she shuffles quietly behind Jake, her hands behind her back. Still hugging Ka’ani, you look at her as she gets closer, suspiciously quiet, only to present you with a bead on her open palm.
You gasp at the sight of it — it’s a bright blue stone, one of the ones to be found only in the ikrans’ nest, with the Omatikaya clan symbol etched on it. “For your songcord,” she explains, not looking you in the eye. “To mark your… new start. Your travels.”
You look at the bead, taking it in your hands, then tug Neytiri close to hug her as tight as possible. “I’ll miss you, sister,” you murmur in her shoulder.
Even if she’s supposed to be mad at you, she reciprocates the hug immediately, and it doesn’t take long for the tough facade to crumble. “Please, come back when you’re finally happy again, okay?” her voice is trained, and you doubt anyone but you heard her whisper. “This will always be your home. You’ll always have a place to stay here — with me.”
Ry’ia is delighted in the change of scenery — you can tell by the way she reacts through the bond, but also the happy shrieks she lets out once you lower her near the surface of the ocean so that her wings may touch the water. You look behind you — to the mountains that you’ve called home ever since you came to the world — one last time before turning your gaze back to the sea, the directions your mother gave you etched into your mind.
Awa’atlu is almost three days of travel from your village, turned into four by the stops you make to allow Ry’ia and yourself some rest. And when you finally reach it, it’s night, and only a few lights are shimmering in the Metkayina village. Not wanting to disturb their sleep, you turn your ikran to the rocky side of the island — devoid of any maruis from what you can see — and land atop the coast, dismounting from Ry’ia and patting the side of her neck. “Good girl,” you murmur, “rest now, yes? I’ll take a dip and be back here with you in a moment.”
You remove your traveling shawl as she chirps quietly, remaining in your loincloth and chest piece as you dive into the waters.
You feel like crying in relief when you finally feel her. Eywa is everywhere here — she surrounds you with the water in bioluminescence, in the anemones that move in rhythm with the currents and the nocturnal fishes that swim around in a haze. It’s like waking up from a bad dream, being able to finally feel her again.
Even if brief, the peace it gives you swells your heart. The Great Mother wasn’t holding a grudge against you — you simply weren’t searching for her in the right place.
You resurface to catch some air, only to notice that you aren’t alone.
A turquoise zukzuk — an otterfin — stares at you with her big eyes, and if she weren’t an animal, you’d say she was smiling at you. She rubs her snout into your shoulders, chirping happily, and you chuckle, petting her back, “Aren’t you a cutie? Oh, yes you are, yes you are…”
She licks your cheek, and you fake a gag even as she basically throws herself in your arms. “Now, hasn’t anyone ever told you not to trust strangers? If I were a tad bit more selfish, I’d totally bring you home with me,” you’re not sure how you would manage an otterfin in the forest or while traveling, but you’re sure that if there’s a will, there’s a way.
“Hey, you shouldn’t swim here when it’s dark,”
The screech you let out is loud enough to wake up the whole village, you’re sure. The zukzuk — who looks more scared than you — jumps in your arms as you hug her, ready to defend her from any possible attacker. The latter — a man with turquoise skin and weird tattoos over his face — screams back, mostly startled by your yelling.
“Sorry, sorry!” he puts his hands in front of him as your screams die down, still hugging the otterfin, “I didn’t mean to startle you, it’s just that — we’re too close to the reef, and it’s mating season for the akulas. Their cubs will start hunting for preys any moment now. It’s dangerous to stay here for long.”
You share a look with the otterfin, who’s still cuddled to you, and it’s just then that the man seems to notice her. He frowns, “Nala, is that you?” It's the same tone you use for Ry’ia when she pulls some kind of stunt you told her not to do, and the zukzuk lets out a noise while looking at you with the biggest eyes as if to say, I’ve never met this man in my life.
The latter gasps, “It is you!”
The pup cuddles closer to you, hiding under your chin, her tongue slipping out of her mouth like she wants to mock him. You raise an eyebrow, “This is your zukzuk?”
The guy nods, “She knows she shouldn’t swim here at night, it’s dangerous–”
A rumble from below interrupts him, and you all freeze. “…What did you say about those akula cubs?” You don’t even know what an akula is, but judging from the fact that apparently their cubs make swimming at night dangerous, it can’t be anything good.
His hand wraps around your wrist as he starts to drag you away, back onto the shore, much faster than it took you to even get here. “Just where did you come from? Are you Ta’unui really so clueless?” Another rumble from behind you, and he swims even faster. You keep Nala under your arm, and she keeps moving her tail like she’s trying to help him move away.
It’s only when you’re out of trouble and onto the shore, where the water reaches your knees and you’re illuminated by the bioluminescence and the moons, that he notices that you don’t look like a Tau’nui at all. He stares at your slim tail and arms, leaning his head like he’s never seen a specimen like this, and even your clothes are weird. Quite dumbly, he pulls at the feathers stitched into your top, staring intently, “What are those?”
The fact is, you’re also just noticing that he doesn’t look like normal Na’vi men, too — at least, not to the ones you’re used to. He’s broader, taller, and apparently also dumber, because he doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s just grazed and uncovered part of your breast.
You deadpan. He blinks. Nala barks. He lets the feathers go as he turns purple, “Sorry, I didn’t notice.” He’s lucky that the Omatikaya are people raised with no shame about their bodies, because otherwise, the slap you would’ve given him wouldn’t have been too nice from a girl who’s supposed to look for uturu in his clan.
You squeeze the water out of your hair as he stares weirdly, Nala twirling around the two of you. “Why were you swimming if the waters are so dangerous at night?” You ask him, trying not to stare too much at his arms — you never thought that the Omatikaya men needed more muscles, but now you understand that if they did, it wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. His tail — twitching uneasily behind him — is thicker and longer than yours, and his arms have strange prolongments on their sides — to help swimming, you suppose. While Omatikaya grow slender and thin to avoid any difficulty in swinging in the forest, maybe the Metkayina grow to swim more efficiently in the ocean.
“I was looking for her,” he points at Nala, “we spoiled her a little too much, and now she doesn’t know how to take a no.” He tries to smile at you, “You’re not from around here, are you? Your tail would be horrible for swimming.”
You nod, “I’m from the forest clans — the Omatikaya.” you tell him your name, and he nods. “I came here looking for uturu, but the village seemed to be asleep when I got here, so I figured I would talk to the chief in the morning.”
He looks troubled, “I’m Tonowari,” he introduces himself, “I’m from the village. Uturu? Has something happened to the Omatikaya?”
No matter how much you insist he doesn’t, he drags you to the village — in the literal sense, as you didn’t want to follow him and he has to take you by your wrist — and over to a secluded mauri, where he finally lets go. Ry’ia chirps tiredly beside you, huffing indignantly at him as you wrap your shawl tighter around your shoulders. “I’ll talk to Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk,” Tonowari tells you, nodding to the mauri, “wait for me here, okay?” Nala quietly follows him, dragging her little belly over the sand.
You didn’t really explain the whole thing— you just told him that you’re here to find contact with Eywa again because you weren’t able to in your homeland. You don’t really know why he insisted so much in talking to the chiefs now, and you can’t help but wonder why he feels comfortable waking up the two most important people in his village for a stranger.
Soon enough, he comes back out from the marui, gesturing for you to come inside; you do, and you’re greeted by two very much awake chiefs, sitting with their backs straight as ever.
“Olo’eyktan Arvak and Tsahìk Tsika,” Tonowari tells you, nodding to them, “I’ll leave the three of you alone– keep an eye on that big bird of yours.”
“She’s not a big bird," you whisper, too tired to fully protest. He pats your shoulder, looking a bit guilty, letting the woven sheet atop the pod close back behind you, “Sure she isn’t,”
You remain alone with the chiefs — and Nala, who you realise just now hasn’t followed Tonowari. Looking at the couple, you figure that the Metkayina must all have his same features. “Sit,” Tsika gestures to the empty space in front of them, “and tell us everything.”
Recounting the fall of the Hometree is more difficult than you thought it would be — because even if it’s been almost a month now, the wound still feels fresh. They listen, not prodding for more information when you stop to take a deep breath to avoid bursting in tears, and the Tsahìk puts a hand over her mouth when you mention your father. “Eytukan,” she murmurs, looking over to her mate. “He came here when we called for the other Tsahìks.”
At your confused face, Arvak explains, “A little over twenty years ago, our son fell sick. Rashes all over his body, convulsions, other symptoms we’d never seen before.”
His wife takes a deep breath, “When nothing seemed to work and we lost all hope, Arvak chose to call the other clans’ Tsahìks and healers for help. The Ta’unui sent a healer, the Aranahe some healing plants, and everyone pretty much did the same. But your father,” she pokes you in the chest, not in a mean way — in a way that says, the man you’re half a part of. “Olo’eyktan Eytukan came here himself. Excused his wife’s absence, told us she had just given birth to their third daughter and wasn’t able to travel properly. He took a look at our son’s state, and said that it probably was txumpaywll poisoning — until then, we didn’t even know that its plants had started to grow on our islands. Made a salve for his rashes, concocted the antidote and left when he got better.”
They bow their heads at you, “It will be an honor to pay back Eytukan’s kindness. Tell us what you need, and we’ll do anything in our power to help you.”
You beg them to raise their heads, embarrassed. “I just want some time with your clan,” you tell them, “learn your ways with the creatures, how you move within the currents.” If Jakesully out of all people managed to learn the Omatikaya’s ways, you doubt it will be much harder for you. “I… I’ve lost contact with Eywa. I hope that learning your clan’s ways will help me in finding it again.”
Arvak has got a pensive look on his face. Then, he says, “Tonowari, I know you’re listening. You can come in.”
The man sheepishly enters the marui again, sitting beside you, a little embarrassed. You raise an eyebrow — did he really think either of you didn’t hear him? You might’ve not heard him approach when you were in the water, but back with your feet on steady ground, you would’ve known how to spot him before he was even in your line of sight.
Nala squeals and throws herself on his knees, purring. Arvak tries to ignore her to his best abilities. “Our son Tonowari will teach you everything he knows about the reef,” ah, so that’s why he didn’t have any problem waking them up. Nice to know that the Olo’eyktan’s successor has seen your boob. On his part, Tonowari makes no protest. “Her training starts tomorrow. Go show her one of the vacant maruis — she’ll stay here for a while.”
Ry’ia is already sleeping when you and Tonowari detach your bags from her saddle, and you try your best not to gape at his biceps as they flex while he takes the heaviest woven baskets out of your hands. “Don’t worry, I’ll take those– you must be really tired.”
He balances them on his side and shoulder as he walks you through the maruis — with the few still awake villagers peeking out of their tents to steal a curious look at you — only to stop in an empty one, carefully leaning the baskets down to the floor. You stare at the woven walls of your new home, at the mat on the floor and the little space reserved for the fireplace, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this can work.
You set down your bag as Tonowari stands back up from his knelt position, “Try to get some sleep,” he tells you quietly, “I’ll come to wake you up tomorrow a little before dawn — it’s when the ilus wake up. If you need anything, that–” he points to a nearby pod, “–is my marui.”
He stops for a moment and looks at you, sitting on the sleeping mat. “I’m sorry about your father and what happened to your people.”
You press your lips into a thin line. “Thanks.” You avert your eyes and wrap your shawl a little tighter around you. “Uh… goodnight, Tonowari.”
He nods, a sad smile on his lips as he moves outside of the tent, still holding open the curtain serving as door. “Goodnight.”
He closes the blind, and you’re left to your thoughts.
Tonowari laughs. “Your swimming form is funny.”
You pout. “If you're here to poke fun at my survival-level swimming form, I’m sure Nala would be happy to teach me how to instead.”
His laugh gets even louder, and he raises his hands up. “I said it was funny, not bad! It’s like… watching a child take their first dive out of their mother’s womb.”
“Are you really saying that a kid might swim better than me?”
The son of the Olo’eyktan has at least the decency to stifle his chuckles now. “No, no, I’m sure you’ll learn soon enough.”
This morning, the villagers were astonished to find out that the chiefs had basically sneaked you into the village overnight — but sure enough, their spirits changed when you started distributing the gifts you had brought for them. The Tsahìk seemed pleased with the necklace your mother had made her, claiming it to be of beautiful manufacture, as her people raided your baskets for the shawls and armbands your friends had stitched for them. Yovo fruits were gone in a matter of seconds, and Arvak had to set aside the dried meat you brought to assure that everyone got a piece for dinner.
(As for Arvak’s gift, you gave it to him once the crowd dissipated. You told him it was from Toruk Makto, who even after proper Omatikaya training, unfortunately still had to work on his carving abilities. He took the dagger nonetheless, pleased that Toruk Makto himself took time out of his day to make something for him.)
Despite your gifts quietening the protests of your arrival, the villagers still stared a little too hard sometimes — no wonder, they’ve never seen a forest Na’vi before. Most of them are nice or at least cordial to you, but a few doubtful stares still linger as Tonowari tries to do his best in teaching you the ways of the Metkayina.
You start spending your mornings — from before dawn up until lunch — with the Olo’eyktan son, learning how to juggle the currents and hold your breath, and your afternoons with the clan elders, weaving baskets and learning how to stitch seashells into body pieces.
(The first time you asked if you could help weaving the growing side of the marui pods, they gasped, scandalized. Apparently, it’s strictly the men’s job around here.)
After a few days and horrendous tries, you finally manage to finish your first armband — Priya, an old woman wearing the feather chest piece that one of your friends had made, insisted on it. It’s decorated with a few shells you managed to collect while diving with Tonowari, and as she inspects it closely, she hums, clearly pleased with your work. “I’m sure your mate will be delighted to wear this, one day.”
You raise an eyebrow, surprised. “My mate?”
The other elders nod convincingly, passing around your work. “In Awa’atlu, the first piece a girl makes is always a stitched armband," she explains, revealing why she had pressured you so much in starting off with one. “The mother makes sure to save it, and when the time comes, it will be given to her husband to wear. He, in return, will give her a carved comb, usually decorated with anything that pleases the woman.”
You think about it for a moment, “So, the first ever piece the men carve is a comb, too?”
The women laugh like the mere thought is hilarious. “Of course not!” Priya hollers, “The first piece a woman stitches is important because in her life, she will make numerous beautiful works. The men give them the most beautiful comb they make, because it’s already a miracle if they manage to make one singular, decent comb.”
At this, you laugh with them, thinking about that wobbly knife Jake made for their Olo’eyktan. Then, you snort, “This wasn’t my first armband, though,” yes, you had to learn how to properly position shells and have them not fall off the strings, but this isn't your first time stitching.
One of the other women shrugs, “So what?” She says, “It’s the first one you make here — as a future proper Metkayina — that counts as first.”
Later on that night, back in your marui, you observe the armband and store it inside one of your woven travel bags, hoping that one day, the man you dreamt about will be able to wear it.
Whenever you are free from both weaving lessons and Tonowari’s constant nagging, you delve deep into the forest that the island offers, collecting herbs and fruits. Apparently, the Metkayina have learnt to make the most out of what the sea has to offer, and subsequently rarely explore the forest except for harvesting fruits. The seaside forest is a bit different from what you were used to, but fortunately the plants do not differ that much.
The first time you show the Tsahìk how you used to make disinfectant salves in the forest, she stares at the concoction like it has just clicked something in her brain. She smells it, tries it on one of the hunter’s light scratches and notes how he doesn’t lament any stinging. “Why don’t you come with me and my tsakarems one of these days?” She asks finally. “I’m sure we could teach you something, as well as learn from your… peculiar ways.”
The next day, you ask about the tsakarems to Tonowari as he gently hoists you up to an ilu. “Here, when the Tsahìk doesn’t have a daughter, she takes various apprentices under her wing,” he explains, showing you how to place your feet to avoid falling off of the creature’s back. “And then, either the most talented or the one the future Olo’eyktan chooses becomes Tsahìk, while the others go on to become healers.”
You still fall off of the ilu’s back, but it doesn’t really matter — because Tonawari is there, ready to catch you, and immediately steadies you as you come crashing onto him. You’ll learn, he signs, still underwater. Do not worry, you’ll learn.
The two of you have grown significantly closer since your arrival, and you try not to notice the way his touch tentatively lingers over your hips as he brings the both of you back to the surface. The two of you stare at each other then, his hands still atop your waist, and just as he’s about to say something, the moment is broken by Nala — and either she’s obsessed with his biceps at least half as much as you are, or she’s really just a little, fat bugger. You both laugh as she slobbers all over your face, his hands leaving your body, and you have to convince yourself that you’re not missing his touch to continue the riding lesson.
Your weak spots are the signing lessons and the apnea training, mostly because your complete attention on him is needed to actually learn something.
The first time he pushes his hand into your belly to show you how to breathe with your stomach, you thought you would’ve been able to faint right here and there — or swoon, depending on how you see it. And whenever he shows you new signs and their meaning, unfortunately all you can think about is what exactly his fingers can do.
After lunch, you join the Tsahìk and the tsakarems in their dive for medical algae; a girl named Ronal shows you the best shells to pick to add to plants to make a paste, and the fishes that you have to follow to find a certain type of anemone with incredible healing properties. She’s a little ruffled by your presence at the lesson and you can tell, but you don’t find it in yourself to judge her; you’re pretty sure that when Jake was learning your ways, you were far more suspicious of him than she is of you.
Weirdly enough, the Tsahìk comes looking for you when you don’t show up to her lesson the day after. You come to find out that what you thought was a once-and-done offer was meant to be a more permanent position among the tsakarems, and now your evenings are filled with her lessons about spirituality and healing, too.
But the best thing about Awa’atlu is, by far, Eywa’s presence: she’s everywhere, in the waters you swim into the bonfire Avrak lights when it’s time for dinner, and for the first time in months, you feel safe. Even Ry’ia does, and it’s evident in the way she made herself a nest atop one of the highest trees in the forest.
You’ve made friends with the elders and two girls close to your age, Wali and Em’a, and the curious glances that the Metkayina sent you on that first day you spent here are nothing but memories now, as they have seemed to accept you as one of her own.
Ironically enough, you start noticing how close Ronal and Tonawari are just now that you know her.
Nothing much, but still noticeable, because most of the women in the clan are not close enough to him to be touching him — but she does. And for some reason, a lingering touch on his arm here and two grazing knees there are all it takes to ruin your night.
You know it’s stupid — a lot, actually. You’d already figured that one day, Tonowari will have to choose a beautiful and probably Metkayina woman to mate with to become the Tsahìk when his mother won’t be able to be anymore. Ronal is smart, definitely the prettiest tsakarem out of Tsika’s group, and above all, an established Metkayina in the clan. You, meanwhile, still have to properly mount an ilu, and Eywa forbids a skimwing.
When the fire dies out and it’s time for everyone to go to sleep, you sneak away from your friends to find refuge in that same rocky coast you landed on the night you arrived, and find yourself looking at the stars.
The next morning, after yet another slip down the back of your ilu, you’re ready to pack your bags and go back to wallowing in your pity in the remains of the Hometree, but Tonowari stops you by the tail and drags you back into the water, already hoisting you up the ilu’s back again. “Come on,” he encourages you, getting on the saddle right behind you. “Make the bond– I'll worry about not making you fall.”
Your eye twitches. Just how are you supposed to stay focused on the ilu when you can feel his chest pressing against your back, and his arms basically engulfing your own as he holds onto the saddle? He blinks at your staring, acting oblivious. “What?”
By some miracle, you manage to focus on your mount. The ilu’s speed causes you to completely lean on Tonowari for support, but he doesn’t seem to mind — the opposite, actually. One of his arms wrap around your midriff to keep you more stable, and while underwater you can feel his chin rest on your shoulder, when you rise back to the surface it’s his breath that you can feel on your cheek — and you know for a fact that he’s doing that on purpose, because he’s much taller than you, and he has to be crouching to be almost your height.
“See?” He whispers in your ear. “It’s not so hard.” Well, of course it isn’t with him assuring you don’t fall. Slowly, you lift your head up to look at him, a brow raised in amusement. “Not with you here, mister.”
Your sultry gaze makes him blush — an absolute hunk of a man who has surely had his fun playing with your closeness up until now, defeated by the batting of eyelashes. Unbelievable. His index finger traces a little pattern over your side, his eyes not leaving yours, “Then I’ll be here for as long as you’ll need me.”
Wali and Em’a tease you endlessly about your lessons with Tonowari, and although they are terrible at catching fishes with the nets, whenever the two of you are out in the water they’re suddenly the most interested in fishing, even if their eyes are directed to anything but their supposed catches. They insist on rebraiding your hair in the Metkayina way when your braids start growing out, picking the prettiest shells and beads they can find to intertwine them in your strands. Considering you ditched your feather tops for their net-and-shell ones a while ago, if it weren’t for the colour of your skin and your tail you could probably pass as a reef Na’vi without too much trouble.
But the main problem remains — you are not a Metkayina, not in the true sense of the word. And you are reminded of that as you see Ronal drag Tonowari away from the bonfire during dinner.
Your mood shifts visibly. You play around with the fruits on your bowl, completely bummed, and Em’a and Wali share a knowing look. “Maybe she just wants to talk to him,” the latter whispers, as her friend nods. “Yeah, they butted heads allll the time when we were kids. I’m sure he just did an ugly marui pod and she wants to point out every single mistake he made with the weaving.”
You huff a bitter laugh, “Yeah, because I’m sure that that kind of stuff requires an immediate discussion.”
You go back to watching the stars atop the rocky coast that night — it’s a habit by now, because even if you feel happy here, you still miss your mother and sister. The thought of the three of you watching the same sky always manages to comfort you. Alas, now it’s helping you overcome how stupid you’re feeling, because you know that Ronal is perfect for Tonowari.
She’s been a tsakarem for longer than you, has grown up with him, knows how to ride an ilu perfectly and knows the way of the water like the back of her hand. She doesn’t come from who-knows-where, where trees grow as tall as the stars and far away from their beloved ocean, doesn’t have a useless tail for swimming, and doesn’t need to resurface constantly for a breath of air as much as you do. Wanting to be with him is selfish, because you’re fully aware that there’s already someone perfect for him out there.
Still, that doesn’t mean it hurts less.
The next day you opt to avoid Tonowari’s lessons, staying close to Em’a and Wali to help them stitch a wedding gift for one of the village’s couples on one of the empty, woven platform just above the water surface. The chief’s son had looked confused when he’d found you with the women instead of in your marui, but his questioning glance was met with a shrug. “Well, they need this gift done before the end of this week. I won’t be able to ride an ilu properly any time soon, anyways.”
His shoulders sag a bit and he looks like a grounded ikran, but he still nods and goes his way, back to the beach. “What?” you ask Em’a when she stares at you, gaping. “He looked so sad! Why didn’t you go with him? Me and Wali could’ve finished this alone!”
You go back to your stitching, fiddling with the strings. Your mind takes you back to the other day — the way his finger traced your skin — and still, a little part of you can’t help but wonder how things would be if he didn’t like another girl already. “Well, I wouldn’t want to intrude between him and Ronal, you know.”
Your friends stare at each other, not knowing what to say — it’s not like they can rebuke without knowing what the two of them talked about — or did — last night.
You spend the day avoiding Tonowari like they pay you for it, running errands in the forest for the Tsahìk and finishing baskets with the elders, and by the time dinner time arrives, you can’t evade him anymore without half the clan wondering what happened between you two.
You’re sitting beside Em’a — who’s arguing with Priya about what shells are best for a chest piece — when someone tugs at your braids as gently as possible. “Hey,”
Of course, it’s him. He looks a bit sheepish, a weird leather pouch over his shoulder as he lets your hair go and sits beside you, brushing a fallen braid behind your ear. “I like the way you did your hair– it’s really pretty.”
Well, if Priya and Em’a weren’t listening before, now they definitely are. It’s a miracle Wali is on cooking duty tonight, because otherwise, you’d have three very nosey listeners instead of two. You blush, “Um– really?” Damn him and the effect he has on you. One day, he’ll be Ronal’s — but you decide that it surely won’t be a problem if you have his attention, just for tonight.
He nods, a smile gracing his features. “The prettiest,” for some reason, it doesn’t feel like he’s talking about the braids anymore, but you’re not brave enough to point it out aloud. “You know, I was thinking that we could try again with the ilus tomorrow. Don’t let a few falls discourage you — I’m sure I fell a lot when I had to learn, too.”
You scoff, swatting him on the arm. “Really? Big, bad Tonowari beaten by a skimpy ilu?”
He rubs the back of his neck, “Well, actually, I don’t really remember — I was little — but I’m pretty sure my bad memory is just because I probably hit my head really hard while falling.”
That manages a laugh out of you — and it’s like he can go back to breathing properly, because he had really thought he had done something that offended you in some way or the other. He was more stressed than he let out this morning, when you refused to come with him to see the ilus.
The night goes on and you laugh like you haven’t in months. He sure knows how to make great company when he wants to, and his arm — leaned on the sand behind your back — sometimes brushes against your spine, causing pleased goosebumps to etch over your skin. Eywa, you want him to be even closer so bad.
And it’s just when he leans down and scoots a little closer, his hand tentatively resting on your back, that you notice her.
Ronal is glaring at you from the other side of the bonfire, her arms crossed and her fingers tapping impatiently. The charm wears off — you remind yourself that you can’t exactly pretend she doesn’t exist for a night, because even if you don’t owe her anything, you don’t want to cause any rift between her and Tonowari. It’s not like he’ll ever mate with you, anyway.
So you gently pull away, trying to ignore his hurt stare as you get up from your previous sitting position. “I– did I do something? Are you–”
“Sorry, I just need a breather,” you disappear into the forest, but not before seeing Ronal stomping angrily towards Tonowari, surely ready to yell at him. Priya and Em’a cast worried glances at your back, but you’re too distraught to actually notice.
The rocky coast is quiet in contrast to the continuous chatter of the bonfire, as the sound of the waves is the only thing breaking the silence. You hug your knees close to your chest, staring at the stars, wondering what and how Neytiri is doing right now — cuddled up with Jake, no doubt. Well, if Ronal wasn’t so perfect for Tonowari, you think you’d like being cuddled up to him, too–
A hand on your shoulder nearly makes you jump out of your bones — were you really so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the same man you were just daydreaming about approaching? Embarrassing. If your father were alive, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.
Tonowari sits beside you again, and you hug your knees just a little closer. “I, um,” he stutters, and you can’t believe a man of his size is able to get embarrassed. “Today, when I went hunting outside the reef, I got you something.” He grabs the pouch slinged over his shoulders, opening it to reveal a beautiful conch shell.
You’ve never seen one so big — it’s probably the size of your head, if not bigger. The outer shell is iridescent, reacting to the bioluminescence of the waves that crash underneath you, while the inside is streaked in blue and purple. You’ve never seen anything like it, and you gape at the sight. “Tonowari, what…”
“I saw it and it just reminded me of you,” he explains, his cheeks a pleasant indigo. He holds it out for you to take, and if you weren’t sure your eyes were playing tricks on you, you’d say his hands were trembling slightly. “And so, as it is tradition, I thought I should’ve gotten it for you– if you will accept it, that is.”
You’re too dumbfounded by the seashell to really listen to him. You take it in your hands, tasting the weight of it, admiring its colors and wondering how something so beautiful could have reminded him of you. At last, you find yourself hugging it close to your chest, even if its spikes poke a little into your arm. “Thank you, Tonowari,” you say, feeling as full as anyone can be.
He perks up, his ears twitching like he’s in disbelief, his tail moving happily in the sand. “…Really? You accept it?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I?” It's a gift, and you don’t plan on giving it back to him anytime soon. It’s too beautiful to even sit anywhere near his man-cave.
The grin he makes takes up his whole face. “Okay. Okay, that’s great. Fantastic, even.”
Gently, he touches your arm. “So, how about riding those ilus tomorrow?”
The next morning, you manage to mount an ilu properly — without Tonowari behind you for support, that is. It’s nothing much, but it’s still a step forward into life in the reef, and from the way your teacher claps and hollers, you’d think you’d tamed an akula.
Later that evening, you’re still helping Em’a and Wali with their wedding gift, as well as recounting last night’s events to their flabbergasted faces. “A conch shell?” Wali asks to confirm, her thread and beads long forgotten.
You nod, mimicking the size of the shell with your hands, “Yeah, a thing this big,”
Em’a squeals, “No way! I didn’t think he was so straight forward!”
Confused, you ask, “What do you mean? He was just being nice,”
They look at each other, gaping, then back at you, “What do you mean, he was just being–”
They’re interrupted by someone sitting down next to you without asking permission, and you blanch when you see Ronal. “Oh– oh, um, hi.”
She blinks at you like it’s no big deal, then picks up a spare thread and needle and begins helping you with the netting. “So, what did Tonowari tell you last night?”
You hesitate. “Oh, um, you know — lessons stuff. A few tips on how to balance my weight on the ilus better. Um… in a– friendly way?”
She perks up an eyebrow suspiciously, her ears twitching in annoyance. “Lessons stuff, huh?” she repeats, stitching a shell in the most aggressive way you’ve ever seen — even Neytiri bad-mouthing Jake never reached these levels of hostility. “In a friendly way? Is that so?”
You share a panicked glance with your friends, laughing awkwardly. “Yes?” It sounds more like a question than a reply, and that’s probably what tips her over the edge. Her eye twitches, and she doesn’t even bother to put the needle and thread where she found them as she rises back up to her feet while grumbling, “If you’ll excuse me,”
“She didn’t even try to be sneaky,” Em’a mutters as soon as she’s out of hearing range, “what’s up with her?”
Your stomach churns, “Well, it’s probably the fact that–”
A loud slap echoes from the village, making the three of you flinch. A second slap ensues. When you look up, you notice that Tonowari is standing on the shore, holding his jaw with his cheeks already turning an ugly purple, and Ronal is marching away, fuming.
…Yeah. You probably shouldn’t have accepted that shell thinking that it wouldn’t matter if he was going to marry her anyways.
You wonder what exactly is between them, but can’t find it in yourself to ask him — mostly because you aren’t brave enough to tell him that you like him. Em’a and Wali can keep telling you that there’s nothing between them, but recent events continue to prove them wrong.
That night, at dinner, you mostly keep to yourself, deep in your thoughts, and even if Priya tries to drag you out of your misery, it’s all futile. For one reason or another the fruit you’re munching on tastes bitter, and you’re not sure if Tonowari’s absence around the bonfire helps or worsens your mood. It’s only when Ronal herself pats your shoulder and gestures for the beach that you get out of your haze.
She tugs you by your arm down onto the shore, as silent as ever. “Listen, I’m really sorry–”
“Did you do anything you need to apologise for?” she asks, jumping off a rock. You stumble, “I– well, I know you and Tonowari probably–”
“Stupid forest girl,” she huffs, not even looking at you, “thinks I want him like he’s some kind of trophy when he’s stupid like a baby–”
“Hey! That’s not nice–”
She tugs you roughly one last time only to let your arm go as you reach where the ocean meets the sand, and you fall down in the water, wetting your — newly made, you must add — loincloth. You groan, rubbing your backside, “Ow– I get that you’re mad, but this seems a little too much to me–”
Ronal points to somewhere behind you, looking tired of you. “Go.”
You blink, confused — and then you turn, only to catch sight of Tonowari, only a few klicks behind, mounting an ilu. He raises a hand to greet you, the smile on his face nervous, and you notice that he’s got that pouch slung over his shoulder again.
Hesitant, you turn to Ronal — looking for what, you don’t know. She raises an eyebrow expectantly, “What are you waiting for? Go.”
You’re not sure you want to know what kind of game she’s playing, but something tugs at your tail. It’s Nala, you come to realize, and she’s trying to drag you off to Tonowari.
You relent, following the zukzuk and mostly letting yourself get carried by the current until you’re in front of him. He gestures his fingers to his forehead as a salute and then holds his hand out to you, “Care for a swim?”
Still hesitant, you look at the ilu, then back at him. “No baby akulas trying to eat me this time?”
He laughs, “No, not where we’re going.”
You allow him to hoist you atop the ilu — because even if you're capable of doing it yourself, he always does that — and then climbs up in front of you, holding one hand behind your thigh to keep you steady and the other on the reins. “Hold on tight.”
You have to admit that riding at night is beautiful. Other than the moons and stars above you, the only light comes from the bioluminescence, and you remove one hand from his waist to brush the surface of the water, in awe. Nala swims beside you, holding up with the pace with some effort, but still looking very happy to see you and her carer together.
Tonowari stops the ilu when floating rocks and boulders — like a miniature-size Hallelujah Mountains — start to appear in the sky. “Where are we?”
He turns to smile at you. “You came here for Eywa, didn't you?” he asks, “Well, you could say we're going to visit her.”
He dives and you follow him, still a bit reluctant. He stops to let you catch up to him when he notices that you’re a bit behind him, a hand coming up to hold your smaller one — and suddenly, all of this feels very familiar. The fishes twirling around the two of you, the rocks and algae shimmering, the life you can feel buzzing within the water–
Tonowari lets go of your hand as you stare all around you, but it’s just to sign something. Come with me, our Spirit Tree is this way. His hand comes up to the small of your back, and if you weren’t holding your breath, you’re sure you would’ve sputtered.
If he notices the way you’re staring at him — like you just discovered a whole new person — he doesn’t mention it. He just guides you through the swarms of nocturnal fishes until you see it — the Spirit Tree.
Never in your life you would’ve thought that something like that could’ve existed underwater. It looks like it’s made out of dreams, shining upon anything that comes close to it, and Tonowari’s hand slowly leaves your back as you approach it — he’s letting you have some space, you realise.
Meeting the ancestors is like going back home — maybe it’s because in the spirit realm the Hometree and all the people that came down with it are alive, or maybe it’s because you didn’t do it for a long time. Either way, once you come back from it — you have to, the air in your lungs is starting to feel less and less every second that passes — you come to find out that finally, you feel truly at peace.
You swim up to a rock covered in moss to catch your breath, taking a moment to admire your surroundings — you’ve swam up to an open cave, it seems, painted and engraved with stories from the start of the Metkayina clan to the new days. Tulkuns, ilus and Na’vi twirl across the stone, set for an endless dance across generations, and you hear the water crinkle beside you.
“Do you like it?”
You nod, “It’s beautiful. Our Spirit Tree, back in the forest, doesn’t really offer any space for carvings.”
Tonowari nods, looking at the artwork scattered across the walls. “This is the Cove of the Ancestors. It’s where we bring the dead to rest, where newborns have their first contact with Eywa and ceremonies are held.”
You hum, already imagining him in full Olo’eyktan attire, his father passing down his spear to him. The man clears his throat. “I… I also brought you here for another reason other than the Spirit Tree — Ronal suggested I might’ve wanted to… clear things up a bit between us.”
You feel your heart skip a beat. Ah, there it goes. “There’s nothing to clear up,” you assure him, even if your chest feels like it’s imploding. “It’s okay. I know you have responsibilities — and we both know that Ronal’s the best tsakarem out there.”
He blinks, confused. A beat passes, slowly. Then, “But I don’t want Ronal.”
Oh. Oh.
You stutter, wondering if he’s joking — and from the way he’s looking at you, he’s not. “But– I thought you two had a thing. She dragged you away from the bonfire the other night — she’s always so close — she slapped you this morning just because we talked last night.”
Tonowari’s laughter is sincere and without any malice behind it. “What? No!”
He removes his pouch from his shoulder, and opens it to reveal another conch shell– even bigger than the last one. It’s different, though: this one reminds you of him, all turquoise and light blue accents, and you wonder just how many hours he has spent looking for it. “Here in Awa’atlu, gifting a big conch shell symbolises the start of a courtship,” he explaines — embarrassed, perhaps? “I got so used to having you around that I forgot you weren’t born Metkayina, and probably didn’t know of the tradition. Honestly, I was too happy you had accepted it to ask myself if you knew about it — and for that, I owe you my apologies.”
You soften visibly, but still hold a little resistance. “But Ronal–”
“Ronal is a friend,” he empathizes the word, “if anything, she sees me as a brother she can’t get out of her hair. All this time, she’s pressured me to make my move on you — before the other skxawngs in the village noticed all your qualities. That day at the bonfire? We kept arguing over what compliments I should’ve used for your hair.”
You blush, “I kept telling her I should’ve just told you that you were beautiful — which was true — but she kept insisting for a subtler approach. And when we came back, you weren’t there.”
You fiddle with the shells of your chestpiece, “Well, I thought you went to have some alone time with her or something,” you mutter.
Another laugh. “So, you escaped to watch the stars every time we were a little too close? I’m flattered that you kept looking at me,”
You push at his arm, “Then why did she slap you this morning? Your cheeks are still swollen, by the way.”
He snorts, “Ouli — the ceremonial tattooer — gave her a conch shell a week ago, and she has accepted it. She can’t wait to be absolved from tsakarem’s duties, but they can’t step down until the Tsahìk — and the future chief — choose who, one day, will guide the people spiritually.” Two of his fingers come up to your chin, holding your head up to stare into your eyes softly, “She was waiting for me to choose you. I told her I’d propose the shell to you yesterday, and then she found out that apparently, you saw it as a friendly talk. Needless to say, she was pissed.”
“But– I’m not even fully trained yet. She’s better at–”
He shakes his head, “I don’t care what she’s better at — I know you’ll learn everything about our ways, eventually. You’ve already proven yourself worthy enough.” he raises the shell again, his hand moving up to your cheek. “So, what do you say if we try this once more? I found another shell just to ask you again.”
You take the shell in your hands, admiring it for a moment before throwing all your self-control out of the picture, jumping in his arms so abruptly that he falls down on his backside. The kiss is mind-shattering, his hug is everything you imagined it would be, and his body is just as warm as it was in the dream where you saw him for the first time.
The funniest thing is that once you pull away, you both are gasping for air — something you’ve never seen him do, even after diving sessions that seemed to be hours long. Tightening the hold of your arms around his neck, you press your chests even closer, your noses brushing. “Is this the answer you wanted?”
He huffs a chuckle, his eyes already looking down at your lips again, “I don’t know– seemed a bit too friendly to me. But maybe, if you do that again, say, three or four times more, I might grasp the concept fully…”
You’re pretty sure the two of you could’ve stayed there kissing all night — and maybe even more than that, with the way you could feel him pressing against your crotch — if it wasn’t for Nala, who, by the time you went back for seconds for the fourth time, already had enough and positively jumped over the two of you, breaking the sweet moment with barks and flaps of her tail.
That doesn’t stop you from sharing quick, frenzy kisses whenever she’s not looking, as by the time Tonowari accompanies you back to your marui, your lips still feel swollen and are surely flushed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks you, pressing one last peck to your cheek. You nod, giving his hand one last squeeze, “‘Course,”
You decide to take things slowly — you still don’t know the Metkayina’s ways to their full extent, after all. The next few months are made of exhausting training, as now you’re the only tsakarem and still have to pass your iknimaya, and you don’t want to let anyone down. You know the expectations that everyone has about the Tsahìk, and you surely have no intention to make Tonowari look bad as Olo’eyktan when the time comes.
And about him, he surely makes the intensive training easier.
Everytime he notices that you’re a little too stressed he makes sure to bring you a trinket from his hunts — let it be a weird rock that looks like a heart or a basket full of shells you can make your chest coverings with. He finds flowers to put in your hair during meal times, and just swings you over his shoulder like a pouch full of water when he decides that you’re overworking yourself a tad bit too much, dragging you to his marui for a well-deserved nap.
The day of your iknimaya marks your formal entry in the clan — one who later on becomes even more real thanks to your mating ceremony.
It’s a quiet affair — quieter than it is usual for the son of the chief — but neither of you resent the lack of festivities or celebration, because the most important thing is that you are now mated for life. Per Metkayina tradition, you rebraid each other’s kuru braids, picking beads and shells perfect for each other just for the occasion, and when the time to exchange your wedding gifts comes, you think back to Priya’s words and wonder just who she married — because the comb Tonowari carved out of coral is nothing short of stunning.
“I’ve never been to your forest,” he tells you as you brush the swirls of the flowers and trees etched along the smooth side, “but I’ve tried imagining it so many times, I can only hope I brought it justice.” It may not be completely accurate to the forest, but the thought he put into it is more than appreciated nonetheless. In exchange, he wears your armband like it’s a badge of honor, even if it’s a little too tight on his bicep. (Not that you’re complaining — the sight is scrumptious, and you can’t believe you get to wake up next to him for the rest of your life.)
You quickly settle in the marui Tonowari built with his father in the months of courting, and after a few months of blissful marriage, you don’t even notice when your belly starts to grow.
You just assumed you were getting a little too comfortable in your new life with him and maybe put on a bit of weight — after all, the Metkayina are much softer than the Omatikaya, so maybe your body’s just adapting to the environment. You think so, until Tonowari points it out.
One morning, as he’s tying his braids back, he stops to look at you — still lying half-asleep on the mat you share, barely awake yet. He crouches to stare weirdly at your belly, then pokes at your bellybutton like he’s trying to study a new species of fish. “Oeyä Tanhì,” he starts — my star, a nickname he has taken a liking to calling you since your wedding.
You hum non-committedly. “Yes, Ma Wari?”
He keeps poking at your stomach, and keeps doing so even when you try to swat his hand away. “Stop it, Tonowari, it tickles.”
He kisses your cheek, and continues doing so all the way to your forehead, brushing your hair away from your face as he leans his cheek over the top of your head. His chuckle is full of disbelief as he whispers, “My love, I think you’re with child. Your belly is rounder and stiff.”
A moment passes. Then, “Are you calling me fat first thing in the morning, Tonowari?”
A terrifying silence and a visit to Tsika later, it’s confirmed — you are pregnant, already four months along. You’re confused, mostly because your people don’t show up until five months, but one look at your hunk of a husband is all it takes to explain your questions.
Your second tattoo is to celebrate the pregnancy. While the first was above your eyebrow and went down to your cheek, this one cups the upper part of your belly and continues to your sides, still leaving some space for eventual other tattoos on your lower belly and hips.
At night, you sit on the step going onto the ocean of your marui, letting your feet float in the water as Tonowari sits on a banked canoe below, rubbing ointment on your freshly-done tattoo. “The arch symbolises the first pregnancy,” he mumbles softly, “the sides, protection for the firstborn. If another pregnancy occurs, a piece will be added here,” he brushes against the empty, rounded sides of your belly, “for protection of the second born, and then one for the third, and so on.”
You laugh, playing with one of his braids. “I think you’re getting too full of yourself, mister– let me give birth to this one before talking about other children, will you?”
He rests his head in your lap, almost purring when you start tracing lines over his face and scalp, “And when the child is born,” he adds, a hand still over your stomach, “the father gets a tattoo over the heart, one that turns into a spiral as more children come.”
A hum, “Maybe we should start thinking about names first, Ma Wari.”
The agreement is, he chooses the name if it’s a boy, you choose if it’s a girl. He picks the name Aonung; you opt for Tsireya.
His father’s illness comes as a bitter surprise to all.
It starts with a cough, then he’s getting groggy when he moves a little too much, until no remedies the Tsahìk, you or the healers try to use work, as he lies bedridden in the marui him and his wife have shared for decades.
Tonowari is understandingly broken up about it — the man who he grew up idolizing, who offered you a refuge in your grief, who helped him build the marui where you’ll be raising your child and every other one that might come after them. He won’t be meeting his grandchild, and even if Arvak insists for you to sleep properly in your own pod for the wellness of the baby, you’re not going to leave him or your husband alone in this difficult time.
You and your mate spend every night by his side as Tsika prays and chants for Eywa, not getting a blink of sleep herself, until the inevitable comes, and Arvak’s hand finally goes limp in hers.
The period of mourning doesn’t seem like nearly enough for Tonowari to handle his grief — he spends every night curled up into you, resting his head on your lap, trying to find comfort in you and his unborn child. He’s so big that if the situation was a little different, you would’ve laughed; instead, you just hold him close and sing him to sleep.
But life doesn’t stop for grief, and you know that well. Soon, he’s named Olo’eyktan and you Tsahìk, Tsika stepping down from her position with tears in her eyes as she gives you her headpiece.
Time in the village goes fast — people to heal, ceremonies to make, salves to concoct and prayers to hear. Months pass and your belly starts feeling impossibly big, so much so that the kids of the clan start following you everywhere to help their increasingly more tired Tsahìk. Tonowari always laughs when he sees them, going on about how Nala now has competition for the place in your heart reserved for children and animals, and the otterfin herself brings you a gift everyday — let it be a polished rock she found while swimming or a type of seaweed she thinks to be delicious.
The contractions start at night. You toss and turn in pain but try to avoid waking up Tonowari, just in case it’s a false alarm like the ones you had in the last three days. It’s only when he nudges you with a gentle hand — hair still mussed a bit with sleep — and tells you that the mat is wet that you understand that your child is coming.
Tsika and Ronal — now one of the best healers in the village and happily mated to Ouli — don’t spare any minute after your husband calls for them, and immediately have him carry you — now almost delirious with pain — to the birthing pond, where the water is warm and Eywa’s presence strong. The sigh you let out when your husband gently positions you against the rocky wall of it is one of pure bliss, and your clammy skin now surely doesn’t give you any problem.
Aonung is born hours later at dawn, resurfacing out of the water by himself like tradition, crying out for his father to take him. Tonowari takes one good look at him, hears his strong wails and immediately passes him to your tired, waiting arms, “A boy,” he says breathlessly, brushing your braids out of your face, “a healthy, strong boy.” He presses his lips to your forehead, a tear slipping down his cheek, “Thank you, Oeyä Tanhì, thank you.”
“Aonung,” you call out sobbing, as the babe stops his crying and latches onto your breast. “Hi, my sweet, hi,” he’s a little bigger than Omatikaya babies, but you love him nonetheless. He nestles over your chest as soon as he’s done feeding, and chooses that that’s now his favourite place to be.
In the next few weeks, your son reveals himself to be a real mama’s boy. During the day, he stays curled up in your chest in the netted wrap that Em’a and Wali had made for you, and Eywa forbid Tonowari tries to help you by taking him — because he will cry until his ears beg for mercy, only to go back to being an angel as soon as he passes him back to you.
The children coo and poke at him when you bring him to meet them, and one of the older ones jokes about how he looks just like your husband, but can only stand you. You laugh at that, because it is true — Aonung is his father’s copy, and maybe that’s why he likes you so much.
It’s only when he reaches three months of age that you gather enough courage to ask Tonowari to visit the forest — not because you’re afraid he’ll say no, but because you’re not sure if you’re ready for it. It’s been almost two years since you left now, and while you aren’t exactly ready to see the remains of the fallen Hometree again, you want Aonung to meet his grandmother and aunt, and your husband to see where you grew up.
Of course, the latter could never deny you anything, and a week later you get on Ry’ia with him behind you and set sail for the forest of the Omatikaya. The village is left to Tsika’s hands, and Aonung babbles happily against your chest as he flies for the first time in his life.
The village is in the same place it was two years ago — it’s just grown a lot since then, marui pods where the branches once weren’t even steady enough — and you laugh when Ry’ia leaves you immediately to go back to the ikrans’ nest, ready to meet her old friends no doubt. You keep one hand over Aonung’s small back and the other in Tonowari’s palm, guiding him through the branches and groves as he stumbles many times.
You laugh, “How does the forest feel, reef boy?”
He pales as he stares down the branch you’re standing on, wondering just how many people die here from falling down into the void. “Dangerous, my love.”
Neytiri screams when she first sees you — alerting all the other villagers about your arrival. She runs to hug you tight, not even noticing your son nestled between you two or the reef Na’vi awkwardly standing behind you until you pull back, a soft smile on your lips. “Sister, it’s been so long–”
You laugh, nodding. “It has been, sister. I wanted to introduce you to Tonowari–” the man salutes her with his fingers going to his forehead and then gesturing towards her as you take Aonung out of his wrap and into your arms, “and little Aonung.”
You don’t notice the way her face falls instantly. Your boy coos at her, gesturing his fat little arms towards her, and the moment is interrupted by Mo’at, far more pleased than her elder daughter at the turn of events. When your sister takes her nephew in her arms and your mother hugs you, she stares at his turquoise skin, larger tail and wide forearms with worry, “He’ll never be able to move fully in the forest with these,”
You chuckle, still in your mother’s embrace, “A good thing we live in the reef then, no?”
Her eyes skim over your sturdier arms, the tattoos over your body and the seashells braided into your hair– and before you know it, she leaves Aonung in Jake’s arms and storms off.
Being back home is nice — because while Awa’atlu became your home in the last two years, here in the forest still live your friends and family, and it’s where you grew up. Your mother spoils Aonung rotten and watches him as you go hunting on your ikran with Ninat and Peyral, while Jakesully — upon Tonowari’s insistence — tries to show him the way of the forest. Your friends chuckle every time they catch sight of your husband, asking if every Na’vi in the reef is as big as him, and if you know any Metkayina men willing to marry in the Omatikaya.
Neytiri, who you found out to be pregnant the day you arrived, mostly stays by herself, pondering, and whenever you ask if she wants to do anything with you she refuses, lamenting nausea or other pains.
You talk to Mo’at about it, worried, but she just gives you a weird look. “She’s grieving, child.”
Your eyebrows rise up to your hairline, “What do you mean, grieving? Who died?”
“She thought you were still traveling,” she whispers, caressing Aonung’s curls while he munches on the beads of your braids, “and that once you were ready, you would’ve come back to living here. Seeing you with a mate and a son… it broke her heart, because now she knows you’re not coming back.”
You think back to all the times you two talked about how your children would grow up together, being best friends and close just like you did — and your heart breaks a little, too, because in all of this, you hadn’t considered how she would take the fact of you never fully returning to the forest.
That night, you leave Aonung with Tonowari — as your son has finally started to appreciate his father a little, too — and go looking for Neytiri at the Tree of Souls, knowing that at this hour, she usually prays and chants her songcord.
She stops when she hears you approach, her ears perking up. You smile softly, “I thought we could pray together– like the old days?” When your father was still alive, your sister still arranged to Tsu’tey, and the both of you were less complicated. When she could still become Tsahìk, and you had no reason to.
She scoffs a little, “Like the old days,” she mutters, “am I supposed to pretend that you didn’t turn your back on me?”
You grimace, taking a seat next to her, “Tiri…”
“Don’t ‘Tiri’ me,” she hisses, “you have no right– I was waiting for you. Waiting for you to come back–” her voice cracks — pregnancy emotions; you know them too well. “For you to come back here and marry one of our men like our ancestors did for centuries. Instead, you marry a reef Na’vi and– and move Eywa knows how far from here without saying anything–”
She breaks down, and you shush her gently, cradling her head on your shoulder. This feels familiar, because when you were kids, she was usually the one comforting you. “Why did it have to be the Olo’eyktan?” she cries, her tears wetting your skin, “Couldn’t you find someone less important — someone you could come here to live with?”
You shake your head, pressing your cheek on the crown of her hair for comfort, “I didn’t choose him, Tiri,” you say softly, “I fell in love. That’s not something one controls, and you, out of all people, should know that.”
Still in denial, she sobs harder, “What will it be of our kids?” she asks, pressing a hand over her slightly swollen belly, “Will they grow up as strangers, like they’ll be to our father and sister? Will they look at their aunt and wonder if she’s an outsider?”
“Never, sister, never,” you hush, “we’ll visit — you and Jake can visit, too.”
As her cries die down, she asks, “Does the thought of living here still scare you so much?”
And for that, to your horror, you don’t find an answer.
Tsireya comes a little over a year after her brother, and this time, she looks like you. She still has her father’s Metkayina features — the tail, her forearms — but one good look at her face, and it doesn’t take a Tsahìk to guess that she’s your daughter. Ironically enough, she prefers her father's chest over yours — unless we’re talking about feeding time, because, let’s be real, Tonowari will never be able to beat you at that for obvious reasons.
Aonung has started to waddle a while ago, and has been restless since. He goes from your marui to his grandmother’s, visiting Ronal and Em’a on the way, falling at least twelve times in the meantime. He loves swimming with you and his father, constantly bugs his sister when she’s stealing the milk that he’s convinced should be his, and plays with Nala on the shore when the zukzuk starts following him around.
He’s a sweet boy who brings you flowers and pieces of fruit when he notices the smallest frown on your face, and loves cuddles from mom and dad before and after going to sleep. And even if he’s a little mean to his sister sometimes, you know he loves her very much from the way he begs you to let her swim with him or wants to share his food with her.
You visit Neytiri a few more times, but the visits slowly come to an end when you realize that she has no intention of ever coming to the reef to see the life you’ve built here. While Mo’at visits frequently, bringing the children gifts and swarming them with affection, your older sister seems to have accepted the fact that in her eyes, you’ll never be truly close again.
You accept the notion with far more ease than you could have ever imagined — because you have a family now, and people that look up to you for guidance. If Neytiri doesn’t want to see that, it’s okay; you’ll never manage to love her any less for it.
The kids grow quicker than you realize, because soon, Tsireya is waddling behind Aonung too, and the excruciating process of weaning her off starts.
Her brother had been even more difficult, so you’re actually quite relieved to see that she at least does not cry herself to exhaustion every night like he did. But every time she lets out the smallest whimper, you find Tonowari’s big eyes boring into yours, with that look that says, we could resolve the problem by just having another baby. You always glare at him when he suggests that, because two kids under three already feel like more than enough now, and you have no intention of having another one so soon.
But as she often does, Eywa has a different plan for you.
Tonowari hurriedly wakes you up one night as you’re resting on the sleeping mat, nearly asleep as the kids quietly snore beside you. He’d been out all evening to help his mother with some herbs while you watched the children, so you’re worried to find him so distraught. “One of the Ta’unui’s women died in birth,” he whispers, careful not to wake up Aonung or Tsireya, “they need to feed him, but none of the women in their village is nursing. Could you…?”
He doesn’t even have to ask, really, because five minutes later you’re sitting in the Tsahìk’s tent, nursing little Rotxo while the Ta’unui Olo’eyktan shares worried whispers with Tonowari. The newborn is a little chunkier than Aonung and Tsireya were, but that just means that his mom, while she could, took good care of him.
“He’s an orphan,” you hear the chief say, “his dad died a little while ago on a hunt, and he’s only got his grandmother now — but frankly, she’s old, and I doubt she’ll be able to take care of him for long…”
The solution seems clear in your eyes, and after talking to Rotxo’s grandmother about her new place in the Metkayina village, you introduce Aonung and Tsireya to their new little brother. They don’t ask why you didn’t have a big belly like the other pregnant women in the village, or why his skin isn’t a little bluer like theirs, and instead take to him instantly, putting shared efforts to find nice shells and smooth little rocks to put in the woven crib where he naps.
Everyday, you bring him to his grandmother so that she can have a piece of her daughter back with her, and slowly, she takes a liking to your children as well. They start calling her grandma like they do to Tsika and Mo’at, and you don’t miss the way she seems to be rejuvenated by being around such lively children.
“No more kids, huh?” Tonowari teases you gently one evening, the sun fading into the horizon, as you breastfeed little Rotxo while watching Aonung and Tsireya play with ilu cubs in the water.
You swat his arm, so tired but so full of love. “Oh, shut up, Tonowari. The next kid we have, we’ll have in at least ten years.”
He raises an eyebrow, amused, “Oh? So, we will have another kid?”
You blush — incredible how after having two of his kids and being bare for him so many times, he still manages to get a reaction out of you. “Maybe.”
He hums, an arm wrapping around your shoulders as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “Yeah? And what do you want to call them, if it’s a girl?”
You look down to little Rotxo, his hand opening and closing around the curve of your breast, his chunky belly pressing against your ribs. It’s ridiculous — the way Tonowari can get you to think about another baby while already having three small children.
series i'm your dream girl but you're not my type.
aonung x fem!metkayina!reader x rotxo x lo'ak sully x neteyam sully
summary: you are the village beauty of awa'atlu. a very desirable girl who has every boy wrapped around her finger. many can't seem to hold your heart, except for a very persistent four who will not let up easily. which lucky boy will earn your hand?
tags: sfw , heavy pining , unrequited love (as of rn)
a/n: this will be a multiple part series I hope!! if you wanna drop ideas in my inbox or comments pls do, they motivate me to make more chapters hehe. formal creds to this post by @lilacnavi for my inspo! (it finally let me tag yessss)
theme: genesis ( more so the readers theme to focus on her beauty. you're beautiful <3 )
You are undoubtedly one of the most beautiful girls in the village of Awa'atlu. Your skin is as blue-green as the ocean you were born in and eyes the color of deep lagoon water. Your long, curly hair was adorned with tiny shells randomly braided in sections, and a dainty pearl complimented the look right in the front of where your hair started just above your brows. You always had on the prettiest outfits, ones that complimented your womanly figure. Everything you owned you had weaved yourself.
You had suitors lined up like warriors for a test, each with their own skills and talents they believe are sure to knock you off your feet. You never really paid much mind to them.
All your life, the elders and aunties had murmured the same things as they wove shells into your hair. You were exceptionally gorgeous, a gift from Eywa herself, destined to have every reef boy scrambling for even a glance or a kind word. You just laughed it off. Your mother, a village beauty herself, always told you that you should never settle for less than you were, and you never did.
You didn't cave when Ao'nung, the chief's son, strode up one morning and asked for your hand with the confidence of someone used to getting what he wanted. You met his gaze coolly and replied, "If Eywa meant for us to be mated, she'd have made your tongue less arrogant."
You didn't falter when sweet Rotxo, ever gentle and observant, held before you a handful of the prettiest glowing shells he'd collected from the forbidden deeps. "They're beautiful," you told him softly, touching one, "but beauty alone doesn't make a bond."
You didn't even look twice when the forest outsiders, Lo'ak and Neteyam, pushed themselves harder during diving practices. Lo'ak flipping recklessly through coral arches to catch your eye with his wild grin, Neteyam executing every move with precise, quiet grace, hoping his discipline would speak louder than words.
You shrugged it all off with the same easy grace you used to slip through the currents. It wasn't worth your time, not really. These boys, persistent as they were, still felt like skxawngs playing at courtship, chasing the idea of you rather than the truth beneath.
You were surfacing from a dive in the reef. At your side, a satchel full of trinkets such as clams, starfish, and any other interesting things that caught your eye. You waded through the water, droplets dripping and sliding down your teal skin like liquid pearls. You tossed your head backwards, to send your wild curls behind your shoulders.
Just beyond the shallows, approaching the beach, was Rotxo and Aonung. They were bickering about something that they had been still talking about since that very morning. Aonung caught sight of your figure emerging from the water, and did a double take, before tapping Rotxo roughly on the shoulder.
"What?" Rotxo whined, shoving Aonung's hand away.
"Shut up and look." Aonung's muttered as he pointed towards you.
Rotxo turned and squinted, locking eyes with your frame.
There you were, emerging from the shallows like Eywa herself sculpted you for the sea. Your long hair, wild and heavy with water, was tossed back over your shoulders in one effortless motion. Your woven top and hip-wrap, clung just enough to trace the graceful, womanly curves of your body.
For once, Aonung had no comebacks nor anything stupid to say.
You noticed them almost immediately, and hid your amusement just as quickly as you noticed. You wouldn't say you were showing off, but there was definitely a more noticeable sway in your hips when you walked, and more fluttering of your lashes.
Both Aonung and Rotxo watched you as you delicately sorted through your treasures hung at your side. Aonung thought for a moment, cleared his throat, and straightened his posture. "Watch this." He said, focusing his gaze on you, and beginning to walk towards you. Rotxo watched in curiosity for a moment, then quickly followed after.
You pretended not to notice them approaching, back turned, and eyes locked on a particularly interesting starfish you managed to find.
Aonung stopped just behind your shoulder, his shadow casting itself on top of you. "Find anything worth keeping?" He smirked, tilting his head at you.
You lifted your head quickly, shooting him the prettiest eyes you could muster. "A few things," you replied softly, flicking your ears forward, "Nothing as rare as the ones you claim to find in the deep, though." You gave a toothy smile.
Aonung's smirk returned, cockier now. "I could show you the better spots. Deeper ones. Only the bravest dare to go." He crossed his arms, eyes getting lost in yours.
Rotxo arrived at his side shortly after, quiet. He didn't interrupt, but his ears flicked back and forth, and his hands flexed at his sides as if he was waiting to say something.
You stepped back a little from Aonung, just to take a better look at Rotxo. "And you, Rotxo?" You said, turning your attention to him, "You come to give some advice... Or just to watch your friend try again?"
Rotxo blushed faintly, rubbing the back of his neck, and glancing at Aonung who gave him a warning look, then answered. "Well I- Well cause- I wanted- You..." Rotxo tried to form a sentence, but his words fell out faster than his brain could process.
"Right." You said, smiling, and turning back to Aonung who looked like he was moments from pouncing on Rotxo for embarrassing him like that infront of you.
The silence stretched on for a moment until you spoke again. "Relax." You tilted your head to the side, letting a curl slide down your shoulder. "Neither of you are embarrassing yourselves... that much."
Aonung huffed, dropping his arms to his sides. "He's the one tripping over his tongue. I'm the one standing here being useful."
"Useful?" Your sarcasm dropped, and your brows rose. "Last time you offered to be 'useful,' you nearly got us both caught in a current because you were too busy staring to watch where we were going."
Rotxo let out a surprised snort-laugh before he could stop himself. Aonung shot him a glare that could've curdled sea milk.
You ignored his stare, and returned all your attention back to Rotxo giving the sweetest expression that made his blush deepen. "I think you are much more mannered." You smiled knowing, devastatingly, and started your journey back toward the path leading up to the village. Hips swaying with that same deliberate grace, curls bouncing lightly.
Aonung let out a long, suffering groan and shoved Rotxo’s shoulder. "You made me look bad, skxawng."
Rotxo grinned, victorious. "I made her smile. You just stood there."
As you treaded back towards the village, you caught sight of Lo'ak and Neteyam heading towards Rotxo and Aonung. As you passed them, they gave the politest smiles, and dipped their heads in greeting. In return you did the same, dropping your head enough for your hair to curtain your face. You pressed on, with a little pep in your step.
Lo'ak and Neteyam watched intently as you faded into the distance, eyes locked and focused like they were on a sort of mission.
Aonung noticed, curling his fists. "Hey forest boys!" He called out, voice laced with venom.
Lo'ak and Neteyam paused, turning slowly toward Aonung's shout.
The air thickened instantly, like the moment dark clouds form over the still ocean. Lo'ak's grin was already sharpening into something dangerous. Neteyam stayed calm, but his shoulders squared just enough to remind everyone he wasn't here to play.
"What?" Lo'ak drawled, spreading his arms in mock innocence. "We just said hello to the prettiest girl on the reef. You got a problem with basic manners now, fish-lips?"
Aonung's nostrils flared. He took a single threatening step forward, fists still clenched. "You two think you can just stroll up here like you belong? She's Metkayina. This is our water. You don't get to look at her like that."
Rotxo shifted uncomfortably beside him. He wasn't one for fights, but the tension was coiling tight enough to snap.
Neteyam raised a hand, palm out. "We're not looking for trouble, Aonung. We were just—"
"—ogling her like the rest of the village?" Aonung cut in. "Don't pretend. I've seen the way you both stare. The flips, the perfect form, the little looks to make sure she's watching. Pathetic."
Lo'ak laughed completely unbothered. "Oh, that's rich coming from you. Last I checked, you're the one who almost drowned showing off for her. What was it? 'Watch this dive'? Yeah, real smooth. She didn't even look back."
Aonung's tail lashed hard. "At least I belong here. You two are still outsiders playing at being reef people. She'll never choose a forest boy who can't even hold his breath properly."
Neteyam finally spoke, voice low and even, the kind of quiet that made people listen whether they wanted to or not. "She's not a prize. She's not waiting for the strongest or the bravest or the sweetest. She's waiting for someone who stops trying to win her... and starts trying to deserve her."
Lo'ak rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well... good luck with that. Girl's got higher standards than Eywa."
Aonung snorted, but there was less venom in it this time. "She's impossible."
Rotxo lifted his head, "Maybe that's why we keep coming back." He shook his head, tossing up a hand.
The four of them stood there a moment longer, rivalry still simmering, but something else flickering beneath it. Recognition. Maybe even the tiniest thread of respect.
Then Lo'ak broke the quiet with a lopsided grin. "Race you to the outer reef. Loser has to admit she's out of their league."
Aonung barked a laugh despite himself. "You're on, demon boy."
Neteyam sighed, already turning toward the water. "You two are hopeless."
Rotxo just smiled and followed.
You finally reached the entrance of your marui, your older brother Ketrö already waiting for you. You walked in and removed your satchel and placed it on a mount.
"Took you long enough." Ketrö started, peeling leaves from a fruit he was snacking on. "Boys chasing you again?"
You turned to look at him, then sat just across from him. "Ah, well you know," you spoke, hiding the smile on your face, "the usual."
Ketrö raised a brow, popping another piece of fruit into his mouth. He chewed slowly, watching you with that knowing big-brother look that always made you feel like he could see straight through you.
"The usual," he repeated. "Right. So which one of them almost drowned himself trying to impress you today? Or did they all just stand there gawking like baby ilu?"
You laughed softly, leaning back on your hands, tail swaying ever so periodically. "First it was Aonung and Rotxo. Then the Sully boys showed up, and probably got a good scolding from Aonung."
Ketrö snorted. "Ao'nung still thinks yelling louder makes him win. That guy makes my head hurt."
You shrugged one shoulder, the motion making your damp curls sway. You had to admit, you loved the attention. Especially from those four.
Your brother paused, eyes narrowing on your body language. "You're enjoying this way too much."
You let the accusation hang in the air for a beat, then gave the smallest, most innocent shrug, like it was nothing at all. "Maybe," you admitted, voice light. "Is that so terrible?"
"It's not terrible,” he said carefully. "It's just… dangerous. Four boys. Four very different boys. I mean, if you think you can handle, well... I admire you sister."
Your ears perked up and your eyes widened at his hidden meaning. You dropped your mouth open in shock and shoved him hard. "Gross!" You squealed.
Ketrö burst out laughing, nearly choking on the fruit he’d just shoved in his mouth. He leaned back, one hand raised in surrender while the other wiped juice from his chin.
"I'm kidding! I’m kidding, relax!" He wheezed, still grinning like an idiot. "Your face, priceless."
You crossed your arms, cheeks warm, tail flicking sharply behind you. "You're disgusting. I hope a tsurak eats your tail."
⤷ ゛A comprehensive guide to falling for certain Na'vi men, through a study featuring seven men of Pandora ˎˊ˗
synopsis. A collection of drabbles exploring the Sully and Metkayina men: how is it to love them, and how they love you.
the line-up. Neteyam: the Twilight, Lo’ak: the Eclipse, Ao’nung: the New Moon, Rotxo: the Midnight Sun, Jake Sully: the Supernova, Tonowari: Breaking Dawn, Quaritch: the Blood Moon.
content warning. SFW. romance. yearning. green flags, personified. NOT A TWILIGHT AU. no appearances of vampires/werewolves. no species other than our beloved Na’vi.
a/n. yes,,,,,the titles were inspired by the twilight saga. i was looking at my bookshelf and stopped at the sequence of titles on the book spines. and then i thought, gosh— Neteyam and Lo’ak are literally Twilight and Eclipse, personified. then what about New Moon and Breaking Dawn? they’re so… Ao’nung and Tonowari :’) of course my mind trailed off to Jake and Rotxo as well, we need a complete package of all the boys!
if ur no longer a minor, a continuation of this, the nsfw version will be posted in a few day's time <3
I. Neteyam: The Eternal Twilight
To be loved by Neteyam is to exist in a perpetual state of twilight. In that sacred, indigo peace where the stars breathe with life, where Pandora finds its temporary rest, and the harshness of the day has finally bled away.
Neteyam is the firstborn son of the mighty Toruk Makto. He is the prince of the Omatikaya, who carries a lineage of Olo’eyktans in his stride and the song of his people in his breath.
A pride of his people, he is the youngest in history to strike the heart of the rite of passage. Yet, despite his perfection and the weight of a future leader on his shoulders, he does not approach you with the thunder of a conqueror.
Though he is the "Crown Prince", he comes as your royal guard, who stands in front of you with unyielding gaze and hands that never waver.
He holds you in regard to a treasure, he looks at you as if you are given the highest grace of the Eywa.
A perfect combination of a majestic prince and tireless protector, Neteyam stands like an iron wall that shields you from the shadows that scare of the rest of the world.
When he brushes past you, he harbors the scent of damp forest floor and the silver mists of the High Camp, a fragrance of a home that predates the coming of the Sky people.
He is a hunter who never raises his voice, even when his blood burns with the fire of righteous rage. His devotion to his family and to you is not a flickering flame.
He is all selfless, eternal persistence. Like the star that remains when all others fail. His presence is an encompassing glow that watches over you from near or from afar, ensuring any unwanted shadow would not cross your threshold.
In his gaze, you feel the "safe hour" settle over your soul; he makes you feel as though you are a bloom of the forest, daring you to open your petals under his safe shade.
He is the first light of the star you seek when the path is lost. He is a steady, guiding glow, your bridge between the day and the night, ensuring you are never forsaken in total darkness.
II. Lo’ak: The Solar Eclipse
Lo’ak is not the sun that warms the ground; he is the moon that dares to cross its path, a sudden, electric interruption of the natural order.
His love is like a solar eclipse, a rare and terrifying phenomenon that renders the world a beautiful haven where only you are visible to him, only you exist.
To be Lo'ak's is to be chosen by the outcast who found brotherhood in a lonely Tulkun, the kind of kinship the world could not name. A man who knows what it is to be called a freak and finds his solace in the deep waters.
To be his is to be the only star visible in the surrounding darkness.
To love Lo’ak is to be thrown into impetuous, beautiful danger.
To walk with him is to be hurled into the vicinity of a thousand problems born of his reckless, albeit well-intended fire.
He means well with every drop of his demon blood, although his actions would lead you head-first into a tornado. For his heart is a wild, untamed thing that pulls you into the very eye of the storm.
He is the shadow that devours the sky only to prove that he would plunge the entire world into night if it meant he could bring you back undisturbed. His love is a total obscuration, a theft of light that leaves you shivering in the thrill of being his only priority.
He treats you with naive confidence that strikes like lightning—loud, powerful, and utterly misunderstood by the world outside. When he looks at you, the air grows thin with hopeful longing, and you always feel it in the way his gaze settles upon you.
He makes you feel like a secret shared between the high heavens and the deep earth, a beautiful anomaly only for him to have.
Lo'ak is the proof that the most profound light (and, love) is often found in the places others fear to tread.
III. Ao'nung: The New Moon
Ao'nung watches you with the inevitable gravity of a new moon. A heavy, invisible presence that pulls at the tides of your heart long before the light of his affection is revealed.
This is the moon in its hidden phase: a time when the light is not absent, instead, tucked behind a veil of shadow, waiting for the right moment to be revealed.
Once the boy who mocked any outsiders, he has grown into a formidable warrior of the Metkayina, a man who fights with the destructive ferocity of the reef people, skillfully wielding weapons underwater while guiding his beast with a single hand.
To love him is to witness the slow sharpening of his soul as he emerges from that shadow.
He is a man of hidden depths and silvered pride, and his love initially cloaked in the cold, distant shadows of the deep. Yet, you see through the salt iron of his bravado, through the emergence of his fierce, loyal friendship with the Sully boys.
To be loved by Ao'nung is to realize that the moon is most powerful when you don't seek for it. He is the shadow that follows you through the turquoise deeps. Not to haunt, but to ensure the Great Sea never claims what is his.
His long-standing devotion to you is a slow-growing, ever-expanding sliver of light. The gradual revealing of a soul that has learned the grace of softening. For his friends, and especially for you.
To be loved by Ao’nung is to be treated like the center of the vast ocean surrounding the reef. You are deeply respected, intensely guarded, and tethered to a man whose love is as unassailable as the rising tide of the sea.
IV. Rotxo: The Midnight Sun
Rotxo is the light of the midnight sun; a warm, unyielding ray of warmth that unconsciously brightens every corner of your horizon. He is the man who has decreed that for you, there shall be no night where sorrow falls upon you.
He is the observant soul, the wallflower who notices when you wander off. He is the one whose eyes scan the waves with cheerful vigilance, ensuring you are never left behind in his wake. He sees the shadow on your face before you even feel its chill.
Being in Rotxo’s presence means you are treated with his sun-like tenderness that makes the deepest trenches of the sea feel like a shallow, silver playground.
If there were a sound of light striking the great water, it would be his laughter. It is a bright, defiant joy that sustains your happiness when the surrounding tide grows far too big.
To be with Rotxo is to live in a summer that knows no autumn. He makes you feel buoyant, weightless. As if the chains of your troubles have simply ceased to be.
He does not ask you to weather the dark. He simply remains high in your sky, like a constant, radiant horizon.
Rotxo is the warmth that persists because he cannot bear to see the chill of isolation touch your skin. He is the sun that refuses to sleep, as long as you are awake.
V. Jake Sully: The Supernova
Jake is the man who would let an entire world die so that he can breathe within yours. He is the supernova, born from the wreckage of a dying human star.
His love is nothing like a gentle melody; it is fierce, protective, and newborn. His love stems from a marine’s discipline forged into a warrior’s obsession.
He loves with the frantic brilliance of a man who was given a second chance at life and refuses to waste a single breath of it. He is a man who has crossed the abyss between lives, and refuses to lose the light he found on the other side that radiates from you.
He treats you with the intensity of a man who has calculated the cost of loss and decided that you are worth every sacrifice. You are his home, his final stand.
Jake Sully makes you feel like the prize of a hard-won revolution. You are a soul so precious it justifies the burning of the sky.
He shields you with a heat so great it would scorch the heavens if he lets it.
His presence is a massive, gravitational force that holds your universe in its proper alignment.
To be Jake's is to be the fixed point in a galaxy of chaos, cherished by a man who has lived twice and loves a thousand times harder.
VI. Tonowari: Breaking Dawn
Tonowari is the break of the dawn, the strong and steady hand that ends the long night of uncertainty with a single, undeterred, clear line of light.
He is a giant of a man, feared for his unmatched strength and his prowess that commands the wave. Yet he is the leader who will not settle a decision without honoring the weight of your thoughts.
His love is rooted in a deep, abiding respect that values your voice as much as his own.
He does not love with the fleeting passion of a boy, but with the inevitable certainty of the morning. His devotion to you is as reliable as the sun rising over the eastern reefs to claim the say.
When he is roused by anger, he does not explode; he is all low, booming thunder, a scary and imposing force that can silence a room with a single gesture. But when he turns his gaze to you, that thunder becomes a low, protective rumble of affection.
Tonowari is the man who shields those he loves with a hand held firm against the world. He is a protector who demands order so that you may flourish in the peace he has maintained away from malice.
Beside him, you are safe within the magnificent structure of his heart. He is the pillar of the reef who stands between you and the horizon.
Tonowari is a father resembling the dawn, the man who restores the world’s calm morning colors and demands that the rest of the world treat you with the same reverence that he does.
VII. Quaritch: Blood Moon
Avatar Miles Quaritch is the blood moon, a heavy omen that stains the skies of Pandora with a copper-hued, predatory shadow.
Quaritch is the drastic, suffocating, reddening of the night. He is a lunar eclipse with the ruthless certainty of a man who refuses to stay dead.
He is a soul bound by the martial laws of Sky People's insanity, too hard to bend to the laws of Eywa.
He is a man who has lead the path of fire, and now returned with a heart touched by the cooling lava. His love is jagged; remnants of what was once brutal, violent core.
He is the Blood Moon, the darkness that demands your submission in order for you to see the light again. And his company is a massive unyielding presence that demands your total focus.
His devotion guarantees — should you ever be taken from him — his willingless to turn the world into copper and bone, because under his watch, there is no place for the weak to hide. To be his is to be the flag he won't even think to lower.
Quaritch is a man who dares to look into the eye of the furnace, yet he looks at you with an intensity more ferocious than those flames.
He does not offer soft, whimsical whispers of a lullaby. But his words to you are raw, his promises genuine.
To be loved by him is to be the lone pinnacle of sanctuary, an undisturbed patch of grass, in a landscape of an entire scorched planet.
₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧: With your clan's annual feast coming up, your parents believe you should be looking for a mate. What they don't know is that you already have a boy you call yours.
˖⋆࿐໋ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Fluff, secret relationship (but Ao’nung finds out), female pronouns for reader, a little kissing scene, probably some sort of spelling error i missed, I'm a loser so ofc there's a happy ending
⋆ ˚｡‧₊˚ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k (Bro wtf)
𓂃 𓈒𓏸 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: My first Avatar fic after a damn near 2 year hiatus. But yeah this fic was really self-indulgent because AFAA didn't happen everyone is alive and well in my head. (Also I copied and pasted this from my google doc so hopefully the format looks right.)
ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @waygyusaichi
From the day you were born, it seemed Eywa favoured you. ‘A mighty warrior’ the elders cooed whenever your name was brought up. ‘She was born to be a remarkable leader alongside a strong mate.’ Could you blame them? Life came easy to you. Born with your mother’s intelligence and your father’s strength, your path was as clear as the ocean. Destined by Eywa to guide the Metkayina as the next clan leader.
So how did you get to this point?
“The annual feast is approaching in the coming days.” Ronal murmurs as she hands you yet another basket of fruits. The insinuation hangs heavy between the two of you. “Your father and I are waiting for you to choose a suitable mate to take over as Olo’eyktan and Tsahik.”
A suitable mate. The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. Being the eldest child of the Olo’eyktan (by no more than a minute), the expectation of choosing a “strong” mate to lead alongside you weighed heavily on your shoulders.
“I told you, Sa’nok, I will choose when I am ready.” You give a soft, teasing scoff in hopes of lightening the mood. “Besides, what if I have already chosen?”
“Nonsense. Your father and I would know if you had already chosen a warrior from our clan.” She countered, not taking her eyes off of the fruit in front of her.
“That is correct, I have not.” A boldfaced lie.
Preparations for the annual mating feast starts weeks in advance. Na’vi that have passed their Iknimiya may begin searching for a mate, the feast allows for everyone to display their skills to attract another. Which typically included dancing skills, craftsmanship, successful hunt trophies, anything that could prove your worth to the rest of the clan.
With the feast just days away, your mother had a lot of work to do as Tsahik. And it was your job to lessen the load. Being a slave to your duties, you listened to her every command without detest. Ignoring the dull ache in your chest whenever you decline your siblings invitation to join them on their adventures.
Oblivious to the way your eyes gaze towards the shore towards your siblings and their friends, your mother lifts herself up from the ground and gestures for you to follow. “Niruu is an excellent hunter. He can provide for you.” She tosses another berry into the basket. “Or Ka’rai. He is a fierce warrior, you wouldn’t have to worry about protection.”
“I can protect myself, ma.” You roll your eyes.
“That does not mean you should have a weak mate.”
Would she consider your boy weak?
As she continued naming suitors, your mind wandered to a certain boy. His gentle smile and kind eyes. That alone was enough to get your heart racing and your cheeks flushed. But those thoughts were immediately pushed down at the thought of your parent’s disapproval. You knew they would never allow it.
Dinner felt different that night. Almost like a scenario you’d imagine in your head. Everyone sat around the centre of your marui, discussing details about the upcoming event while you stared blankly at the food in front of you, your appetite vanishing every time you replayed the conversation with your mother in your head. ‘A suitable mate.’ Would your parents agree that the boy — who had you wrapped around his finger with your entire soul — was suitable for you?
But you already knew the answer. Their idea of a suitable mate is one who can lead. Who can command others in times of need. One who isn’t afraid of doing what’s best for the people.
Ewya, you prayed to her everyday for the courage to tell your parents about the blossomed relationship between you and Rotxo. About the way he treats you like a goddess. To be able to openly express your love without the fear of their judgment. Not because your love was wrong, but because your love didn’t fit their mould.
It’s not that your dynamic was abnormal. Someone independent, strong, sometimes reckless with someone more… gentle, one could say. You were born to lead, somehow inheriting both of your parents’ stubbornness and fierceness. From the day you were born your path was laid out for you. And your parents made damn sure you were ready for it.
While your lover, on the other hand, was raised in a modest setting. With barely any standing in the clan, he was brought up with the mindset that he should keep his head low, to never expect too much from others. To never ask for too much. He already knew befriending your brother and garnering your affections was way more from Eywa than he would’ve ever dared ask for. But despite it all, he would be damned if he lost it.
As you were lost in thought, picking at your grains, you felt a calloused hand ghost over yours, interlocking fingers with you. You don’t need to look up to know who the hand belonged to. Rotxo gave your hand a gentle squeeze, a silent encouragement to eat.
Being your brother’s best friend meant he often visited your marui and stayed for dinner. Not that you complained. Having your lover around, even if only for a few fleeting moments, made your day better every time without fail. The best part? Your parents never seemed to pick up on your secret affections. The quick kisses, the hand holding, the lingering glances as you greeted one another.
To them, he was only your brother’s friend. So why would they need to worry about how easily he could, and did, sweep you off your feet? All it took was that sweet smile of his and you felt your resolve crumble every time without fail. Damn you and your weak heart.
You couldn’t quite pinpoint how or when, but at some point throughout your childhood, Rotxo stopped being a random friend your brother would bring around. Instead growing into the boy you found solace in, the one who could erase all the clan’s expectations weighing on your shoulders. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“About the selection feast.” Your father cleared his throat, quickly gaining everyone’s attention. “We hope you’ve all given some thought into taking part.” But despite addressing all of the children, you could feel your parent’s eyes on you. Eyeing you for any hint of what might be going on inside your head.
“Ka’rai is the strongest warrior amongst your age group. And his family has agreed to look into preparations for a union.” Your mother spoke up, taking another bite of fish. “His parents are respected warriors and he is set to follow in their footsteps.”
You freeze. A union? They never mentioned already having someone lined up for you, nor did they mention already preparing your future as if you weren’t your own person who’s perfectly capable of making your own decisions. Your eyes flick towards your mother who’s already looking at you, challenging you to say anything other than unadulterated agreement.
“I’ll… think about it.” You murmur, gaze returning back to your plate. But you don’t miss the way your parents eye each other, or the way Rotxo brings his tail to almost wrap around you. Gentle reassurance that borders possessiveness.
“What about you, Rotxo?” Your father directs his attention to the quiet Metkayina boy. “Have you given any thought regarding the feast?”
Everyone turns to him, curiosity painted across their features. Pale blue eyes meet yours for a moment before flicking to your father, his tail retreating back behind him. “I already have someone in mind, sir.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes sir, but I’m afraid her parents would not approve.” His ears lower slightly.
“Nonsense boy. You’re a strong warrior. Any woman would be lucky to have you.” Tonowari gives him a firm nod.
The reassurance leaves an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Your parents would never say it out loud, at least not in front of others, but Rotxo wasn’t exactly the perfect warrior that they would envision for one with as much status as you.
‘He’s rather soft, don’t you think? A little weaker than the others.’
‘He is strong, yes. Just not as strong as the others.’
‘His parents are quite reserved. He must take after them.’
Each word sent an ache through your heart at the thought of people making assumptions about your lover. How they saw his quiet personality as weakness.
“Maybe…” Rotxo squeezes your hand again before pulling back. Oh how you wish you could just hug him.
As the night wore on, you found yourself walking along the shore, sighing loudly as you made yourself comfortable in the sand. “What’s wrong, Yawntu?” You look up to see Rotxo sitting down beside you.
“Nothing, Ro…” You lean on his shoulder. “Just wish my parents weren’t so insistent on Ka’rai.”
“You are the next Tsahik, it is only natural for them to want you with someone strong.”
Natural. Like making decisions for someone else without their input was an everyday occurrence. You wanted nothing more than to simply settle down with the boy next you, away from duties and expectations.
“You are strong. Do not sell yourself short, Ro.” You give him a light nudge, taking in the ocean before you before looking over to him. “Do you think they’d truly create a union between Ka’rai and I? What if I have to spend the entire night with him tomorrow? Eternity? Eywa I think I’d lose it. ” The thought of spending your life with someone you didn’t love drove you mad.
“I would not stand for it.” He protests. The determination that burns beneath his eyes eases the thoughts that race in your mind. You give him a quick peck on the cheek, a gentle smile gracing your features.
“Nga yawne lu ore, Rotxo.” The words leave your mouth like a prayer.
“Nga yawne lu ore. I always will.” He returned your sweet words, wrapping his arm around you.
“Tsmuke, have you thought about what our parents have said?” Tsireya sits beside you in your mother’s healing pod, grinding together herbs for salves. “I heard Ka’rai has already prepared a courting gift for you this evening.”
This evening. The annual mate selection feast. You had been so busy helping prepare that you completely forgot about your parent’s words.
“I have no need to concern myself with a mate. I can handle myself just fine.” You don’t even bother looking up from your work. It was the same flimsy excuse you had told her since the day she started asking “And besides, shouldn’t you be worrying about if your little forest boy will ask to court you?”
You could see Tsireya’s face flush at the mention of a certain dark blue na’vi. It was so inherently obvious that her infatuation with the boy only seemed to grow the more they were around each other. The pair often remind you of the boy’s parents based on the stories you’d hear from your father.
“Quiet! Nobody can know!” She frantically covered your mouth.
“As if the whole clan didn’t already know ‘Reya.” The two of you turned to the entrance, where Ao’nung is leaning against the frame, a smirk plastered on his face. “It’s quite obvious.”
“Exactly! It’s all heart eyes and love poems with you too.” You chimed in.
“Oh but don’t think you’re off the hook either, big sis.” Ao’nung shifts his attention to you. “I see you making heart eyes at my best friend too, you know.”
You pause, slowly shifting to look up at him from your place on the floor. How did he find out? The two of you made absolutely certain that you were alone before indulging in your selfish activities. Surely he had to be bluffing.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh but I think you do.” He challenged.
“What’s he talking about, Tsmuke?” Tsireya tilted her head, her innocent curiosity only further fueled your brother’s taunting.
“Our big sis here, has been seeing-”
“Enough!” You slap your hand over your brother’s mouth before he could finish. “Not another word from you.”
Ao’nung raises his arms in surrender, giving you a nod of promise as you lower your hand. “Mother won’t be happy about it.” He states. You both knew it. She’d have you by your kuru in seconds.
“Happy about what?” Your mother’s leveled voice fills the pod. “What are all three of you doing in here? There’s much to do before eclipse, move.”
You watch as both of your siblings scurry out of the pod, leaving you and your mother alone. After seeing the look on her face, she definitely heard the conversation between you and your siblings. At least what Ao’nung said to you. All you could do was pray to Eywa that this conversation would favour you.
“Why didn’t you tell me you already decided on a suitor?” She calmly asked, unloading the contents of her basket as she waited for your answer. “Your father and I would have stopped trying so hard to set you up with Ka’rai.”
“Because I’m afraid you will reject him, Sa’nok.” You simply murmur, sitting beside her. “He has little status within the clan.”
“Nonsense child, tell me, who is this boy?”
You give a weak sigh, knowing that dancing around the answer was futile. With the last remaining fight seeping out of your body, the name slipped past your lips. All you could do now was watch as your mother’s face twisted into a scowl.
“Sa’nok please! You cannot! I won’t accept it!” You begged your mother, following her as she made a beeline for your family’s marui.
“Silence.” Was all she managed to respond with.
“What is going on? Your father emerges from the marui, your two siblings close behind. Ao’nung’s eyes met yours, a knowing look on his face as he gave you sympathetic eyes.
“I need a word with your father.” The two disappear into the marui, leaving the three of you outside, wondering what would come next.
You should’ve known better. Eywa does not choose sides. Which is how you ended up outside your lover’s marui, tears brimming in your eyes.
“Ma yawne?” The Metkayina boy’s nose immediately scrunched up as he took in your form. The shaking, the sniffles, the way you pull him into a near bone-crushing hug. “What troubles you?”
“My mother…” Was all you could muster before you felt sobs choke the air out of you.
“Deep breaths, Yawntu. Tell me what happened.” Rotxo gently guided you inside his marui, sitting you down on his hammock.
“Ao’nung somehow saw us at one point and started teasing me… a-and she overheard.” You force yourself to look up at him, the words tumbling out. “I had no choice but to tell her. But all she said was how I cannot settle for such a ‘soft boy.’ She doesn’t understand!”
As you continued replaying the conversation to Roxto, the boy listened, didn’t get upset, didn’t try to argue the words your mother said about him, just kneeled in front of you, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “Do you believe her?” Was all he could manage. But you don't miss the slight waver in his voice. Like he genuinely believes everything your mother said was right. That he was too soft, too passive to be able to protect you like others could.
The mere thought that anything your mother said was right made your stomach churn. She knew absolutely nothing about him like you did. About how he would put himself between you and any threats before you, a skilled warrior, could even react. Or how his only concern when it is time to eat, is that you have everything you want on your plate before even thinking about himself.
How could she just say those things about him like she knew him inside and out?
“Never, Ro. How could I when you’re the one I know I can turn to when the clan feels like too much?” You wipe your tears. “I can’t bear the thought of leading without you by my side. My heart can’t take it.”
You pulled him closer, leaning down to hug him, as if he’d disappear if you let go. The boy slowly got up, sitting beside you as he helped you lay down. “That’s all I need to hear, Yawne. Now get some rest before the feast.”
“I still have duties to tend to.” You sit up.
“I can tend to those. Rest.” The boy insisted, draping a blanket over you.
When you wake up, you’re met with the warm surroundings of Rotxo’s marui. A modest pod, everything in its place. It reminds you so much of him. Gentle, welcoming, safe.
You glance around, eyes landing on a cup of water next to you. A small note stuck under it. ‘Drink when you wake up.’ A smile makes its way onto your face as you see the little heart at the end. How lucky were you to have such a thoughtful boy.
“Bring her out.” Your mother’s sharp voice cuts through your haze from outside.
“No, Tsahik, I cannot.” You hear a much softer but firm voice respond.
“We need to speak with her regarding-” She starts, but the boy cuts her off before she gets the chance to finish.
“She is sleeping after what she has been through leading up to this. I will not allow you to disturb her.”
You shuffle up towards the woven wall of the marui, pressing your ear against it to hear better. It’s not hard to tell what’s happening. But perhaps the better question is why.
“I understand how you think of me. And how you believe I’m not a good fit for your daughter. But I will never sit by and allow you to tear her down for her choices.”
The words hung in the air, fierce and unmoving. The boy your mother scoffed at for being ‘too soft’ was now challenging her authority. For your sake.
As you peered out of the marui you see Rotxo, his toned back to you, preventing your mother from entering.
“Rotxo. I will not ask again.” Ronal’s voice holds finality.
“With all due respect, Tsahik, I won’t wake her.” His voice is steady.
You took a moment, analyzing your mother’s next move. The way her jaw clenched and her hands balled up. Seizing the opportunity, you step out of the marui, positioning yourself slightly in front of the teal boy, between the two of them. Ronal stops, taking in the sight before her. The way you’re not backing down. The way Rotxo reaches for your hand. The look in your eyes was far fiercer than she’s even seen from you. There was no doubt in her mind that you were already too far gone for this boy.
“Sa‘nok… please. I wish to forgo a union with Ka’rai.” You take a step back to stand beside Rotxo, squeezing his hand. “My heart belongs to another.”
Silence hung in the air and you sent one more desperate prayer to Eywa, begging her to grant you the permission you desperately need to be able to live happily with this boy by your side. With a heavy sigh, your mother only offers you a dismissive wave before turning around. “Wrap up your duties, I still expect you to attend the feast with us as a family. The boy too.”
Did you hear correctly? It was the closest thing you’d get to her verbal approval. But that didn’t make you any less emotional. Your mother still wanted you to attend the feast with your family and even bring Rotxo with you, your first public display of your relationship.
“She still wishes for us to attend?” The Metkayina boy squeezed your hand, looking over at you. The sparkle in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. How much this moment meant to you two. The both of you knew how your mother was. She could be rather strict at times, but she wasn’t cruel.
“We will go together.” Your voice is firm. The clan was going to see the two of you together for the first time, and you were going to make sure they knew.
“Ma Yawne… Are you sure about this?” Rotxo squirmed while you finished painting your own personal details onto his arms, the cool sensation making him shiver. The paint on his face doing little to cover the blush that spread across his cheeks as he watched you spread your family’s coloured paint across his skin, claiming him as your own.
A tradition among your clan in preparation for the annual celebration entailed body and face paint as a message to the others of the clan. Pure white if you were searching, colours for mates to paint on each other to signify a claim. According to this tradition, clan leaders and their families use a colour separate from the rest, a symbol of status. Thus leading you to use the opportunity to make it known to everyone that this boy in front of you was yours.
You managed to snag the bowl of purple ink from Tsireya earlier, not missing the way Lo’ak had the same hue across his face as she did on her arms and legs. A knowing smile crossed your face as you made kissing sounds on your way out.
“Positive.” Was all you could say and you focused on the final details. It had to be perfect. This was your chance to show your boy off to the clan after years of secret affections.
Rotxo let out a soft sigh, amused as he grabbed the bowl of his own family colours. A gentle yellow with darker shades beneath the surface, almost lustrous. He dipped his fingers into the pigment before looking at you. “Can you look up for a second, Yawntu?”
Hearing his quiet tone, you look up at him, tilting your head a little. “What is it?” You managed before feeling his thumb on your forehead. Once. Twice. “Rotxo te Rara Yapto’itan. If I look in the mirror and see you drew a smiley face, I will personally ensure you do not wake up tomorrow.”
But when he held up the reflective surface for you to examine, all you saw was a small heart. In the middle of your forehead, between your own coloured markings. It was so… him.
“I should be offended that you thought I’d draw a smiley face on your forehead on a night like this.” He let out a playful scoff.
“You were my brother’s friend before my lover, remember that.” You flick his forehead, careful not to actually hurt him. “Besides, I wouldn’t put it past you, Ro.”
The offended noise he let out was almost comical, his hand held over his heart as though he really took your words personlly. “You wound me, Ma Yawne.” His arms reach out to snake around your waist, hoisting you onto his lap and he looks up at you, pure adoration in his eyes as he looks over your features.
“Hold still, skxawng.” You lower yourself to eye level, resting your weight on him. This was the perfect position to add the final touches to his body. The paint dripped from the bowl onto your palm, spreading over your hand as you rubbed them together. With intense focus, you press your hand against his chest, specifically over his heart. “There.”
You watch as Rotxo looks down at his chest, then to the mirror, then back to you. His eyes holding a quiet pride only you seemed to notice. While the Metkayina boy was reserved and kept to himself most of the time, he took great pride in being part of the next generation of warriors. He shouldered all the harsh words that were thrown his way by those who knew nothing about him. Didn’t fight it, didn’t stir up any trouble like your brother would’ve. Maybe that’s why they got along so well. They never butt heads over stuff.
The boy shifted his eyes towards his own family’s coloured paint, then up at you once again. A silent request for permission to return the gesture. A soft ‘please’ slips past his lips and you pause, almost confirming something at that moment. He wanted this just as much as you did, if not more. It’s not that you ever had a doubt that he didn’t but seeing him like this, his need to be with you, just calmed and lingering doubts.
With a nod of permission, Rotxo carefully aligned his gold-painted hand with your sternum, applying gentle pressure as he left his mark on you. He pulled his hand back with a smile as his eyes gazed over his work. “It’s perfect.”
His eyes lingered just a moment longer before trailing up to your eyes before they settled on the slight part of your lips. It’s obvious what he wants. You reach out, cupping his cheek before leaning forward to capture him in a quick kiss. As your lips met his, he straightened up, meeting your affection like he’d been starved of it for far too long.
“Oel ngati kameie.” He mutters under his breath.
“I see you too, Ro.” You whisper back, pulling him into a hug.
“And you’re absolutely sure…? We can always just go home.”
“I did not take a whole hour out of my day painting details all over you just for us to turn around, Rotxo. We’re doing this together.” You keep walking.
The two of you had managed to make it to the edge of the celebration before Rotxo got hit with a wave of anxiety, tugging you back slightly, wondering if what was about to happen was a good idea. The poor boy had been overthinking the entire time you were painting him, trying so hard to push down the thoughts of rejection.
“Ro?” You sense his hesitation. “Talk to me.”
“What if the clan doesn’t agree with us being together? Like your mother.” He fiddles with your bracelets. “I worry that you’ll realize you can do better and…”
You know what he’s implying. The thought would’ve made you laugh if you didn’t see the way he wasn’t meeting your eyes. Instead opting to stare at the sand. He was serious.
“I already fought my mother for this, what makes you think I’d stop for the others?” You tilt his chin up. “You’re mine just as much as I am yours.”
Your tone held finality. No room for doubts or arguments. This boy had your heart and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
With a firm squeeze, you take his hand and tug him further into the festival. As you step past people, Rotxo following closely behind, you notice their gazes lingering. Moreso on the intricate patterns of purple and gold paint dancing across your bodies. Tsireya spots the two of you and runs over to you, Lo’ak in tow.
“Tsmuke!” She waves. “Ao’nung was just talking about how slow you were. I thought you’d never show!”
“That was almost the case had I not dragged him along.” You nod your head towards the Metkayina boy.
The girl let out a small giggle, she figured out shortly after Ao’nung’s teasing that Rotxo had been the one that always caused you to shut down your parents’ insistence on finding a mate. The two of you just would not stop staring at each other when you thought no one was looking.
“Mother wants to speak with you.” She pulls you towards the centre, leaving the two boys together.
As the two of you reach a clearing in the middle by the large fire, your mother spots you, eyeing you up and down to take in your full appearance.
“Daughter.”
“You wish to speak with me?” You shift your weight to the balls of your feet.
“Come.” She gestures to a secluded space outside, away from everyone.
She doesn’t look back to check if you follow. But you know better than to disobey orders from your mother, especially when she is also Tsahik. You step out into the night, a cool breeze settling over the island. A heavy silence weighs over you, neither daring to speak first. Until your mother clears her throat.
“When you were born, Ewya willed a strong warrior to lead alongside you.” She began. “Your father and I assumed that they would be someone physically gifted.”
Was she seriously using this moment to nitpick your choice again? While you can’t say you were surprised, it still kind of stung. You thought she finally accepted Rotxo as your lover. “Sa’nok I-” Were the only words that came out before you were cut off again.
“Quiet. I’m not finished.” Your mother continued. “We assumed Ka’rai was the one Ewya sent for you. But after seeing the way that boy stood up for you told me enough. It wasn’t physical strength.” A pause. “Which is why we decided to allow you to mate.”
Your head snapped to her. Did you hear that correctly? She was verbally allowing you to mate with Rotxo when the time comes? The thought had you practically glowing as Ronal rolled her eyes. You were so in love it was honestly sickening.
“Thank you.” You wrapped your arms around her in a tight hug before running off to tell your future mate the good news. “Rotxo!” You called out to him as soon as you spotted his curly hair.
“Ma Yawne!” He returns your smile. “What’s got you so giddy all of a sudden?”
“Mother gave us her blessing.” You watch excitedly as the boy’s face shifts from his small, almost timid smile to a wide grin, as if you told him the best news of his life. And well, maybe you did.
He pulled you closer, lifting you off your feet as he spun you around. It felt like it was just the two of you, like everyone else faded away as you leaned down to give him a firm kiss. But you were suddenly pulled out of your own little world as you heard whistles and cheers from na’vi around you. Rotxo gave them a sheepish smile as he carefully put you down, looking back at you.
“Nga yawne lu ore, Yawne.” The Metkayina boy mumbled in a soft tone.
You smile and kiss him once more. Returning his words of affection in a whisper only he could hear. You were so weak for your soft boy.
@ gender3nvyy 2026 — Please do not repost, copy, or translate!
rules . . . in order to participate, you can look through these lists of prompts, you can also combine prompts together like one prompt w another prompt but you also have to put plot in it, you don’t have to give a whole lot of detail but it helps me in the long run. also please make sure you include what character you want it for + the type of reader. if you not sure what characters/readers i do, then you can read my rules here & here!
thoughts . . . omg i actually can’t believe i made this huge milestone especially after being gone so long. thank you to everyone of you who made it possible to hit 3k followers. this event is to celebrate not only it but also for me to make a comeback after being on my hiatus n to the avatar fandom coming back alive. i hope you all will enjoy the fics that will come out of this!
warnings: inexperienced x experienced trope / p in v / sub rotxo / switch reader / grinding / cunnilingus / hair pulling / whining / whiny rotxo / groping / fingering
authors: yes this is getting me out of my slump!!! also part 3 of my neteyam x oc fic will be out sooon my lovely gigidih's and i hope yall enjoy this i've been really wanting to write about rotxo and aonung more so expect to see more of them soon! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+!
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꣑ৎ ｡°‧⭑.ᐟ
You had grown close to Kiri after the Sullys arrived in your clan of the Metkayina. At first, naturally, you were apprehensive. Who wasn't? Six uniquely blue Na'vi arrived in your reef clan with all the wrong evolutionary features needed to thrive in the ocean's embrace. Their five-fingered hands, their slender tails, their lack of aqua-coloured freckles that would help them blend with the coral reefs—all marked them as outsiders, as different.
The whispers among your clan had been relentless at first. "They breathe too fast," said one elder. "Their tails are too thin for proper balance on ilu," grumbled another. You had listened with the rest, your own prejudices taking root like coral on a rock. But then, as fate would have it, you had been chosen by Tsahìk Ronal to help introduce the Sully children to the ways of the water. It was a duty you initially resented, until you actually spent time with them.
There was something endearing about their lankish movements and awkward swimming. Lo'ak, with his reckless energy that often led to disastrous tumbles off ilu. Tuk, with her wide-eyed wonder at every new creature she encountered. Neteyam, trying so hard to be perfect despite the obvious discomfort he felt in your waters. And then there was Kiri.
Kiri was the closest to you in age, and from the moment you first guided her hands to form the proper breathing technique for underwater exploration, you felt a connection. She understood you in a way that not even the girls of your clan could. Tsireya was wonderful, of course—kind, patient, and always willing to help—but she had never experienced that particular shyness that came from being perpetually cast to the shadows. She had never known the stiffness in your shoulders that developed from years of watching others excel while you struggled to find your place.
With Kiri, there was none of that judgment. When you accidentally inhaled a mouthful of saltwater while trying to teach her how to not do that, she didn't laugh like some of your peers might have. Instead, she had patted your back gently, her strange five-fingered hand feeling surprisingly comforting against your skin, and shared her own embarrassing stories of learning to swim.
"I once tried to breathe underwater like a fish," she had admitted with a shy smile, "and ended up choking so badly my father had to rescue me."
The vulnerability in her confession had broken through your reservations, and from that day forward, you found yourself seeking her company more and more. You showed her the best spots for gathering colorful shells, taught her how to weave the intricate patterns favored by your clan, and listened with rapt attention as she described the forest world she came from—a place of towering trees and floating mountains that sounded like something from a dream.
So when Kiri mentioned one afternoon that Rotxo was assigned to start training with her to improve her breath-holding, you felt a flutter in your chest that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze. Rotxo. The name alone was enough to make your tail curl slightly, a reaction you tried desperately to suppress whenever he was near.
Rotxo was everything you weren't—confident, graceful in the water, surrounded by friends, with a smile that seemed to light up even the cloudiest days. You had watched him from afar for months, admiring the easy way he interacted with everyone, the natural leadership qualities that made others gravitate toward him. He was one of the few who had welcomed the Sullys without reservation, taking Neteyam and Lo'ak under his wing with genuine enthusiasm.
Now, as you sat with Kiri on the shoreline, weaving decorative tops from dried reeds, you knew that if you wanted to learn more about him, this was as good an opportunity as any. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over your faces as your fingers worked deftly through the reeds.
"Rotxo seems to be spending a lot of time with Neteyam lately," you began, trying to sound casual as you kept your eyes fixed on your weaving. "He's really taken to teaching him our ways."
Kiri's hands stilled, and you could feel her gaze on you. You risked a glance upward and found her watching you with a deadpan expression that slowly morphed into a knowing smirk.
Your cheeks flushed beneath your blue skin. "Shut up," you scoffed, turning your attention back to your work with renewed focus.
"I didn't say anything," Kiri replied, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
You both shook your heads, falling into a comfortable silence broken only by the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. After a moment, just as your heart rate was returning to normal, Kiri spoke again.
"He hasn't said anything, but..."
Your ears perked at her words, your tail raising ever so slightly in anticipation. You tried to maintain your casual demeanor, but you could feel Kiri's eyes on you as she turned toward you, a softness and gentleness in her gaze as she spoke with sincerity.
"I see the way he looks at you."
The reeds in your hands nearly slipped from your grasp. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Kiri sighed softly, setting aside her own weaving to face you fully. "When he thinks no one is watching. When you're practicing with your ilu or helping Tuk with her swimming. There's this... this look in his eyes. Like he's admiring something precious."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. "But he never talks to me. Not really."
"He's shy," Kiri said simply.
"More than you'd think. He puts on this confident front for everyone, but I've seen him when he's with just us Sullys. He's worried about disappointing people, about not being good enough. Especially with someone like you."
"Someone like me?" you repeated, confused.
Kiri reached out and gently touched your arm. "Someone who belongs here so completely. You're everything this clan values—graceful, skilled, beautiful. He probably thinks you'd never be interested in an ordinary guy like him."
The revelation stunned you into silence. All this time, you had assumed Rotxo barely noticed your existence, when in reality, he might have been feeling just as insecure as you were.
꣑ৎ ｡°‧⭑.ᐟ
The week following your conversation with Kiri was an exercise in frustration. For seven fucking days, you had been sending Rotxo signals—clear, unmistakable signs of your interest. A wink when he caught your eye across the training grounds. A flirtatious comment about how his muscles looked after a particularly rigorous swimming session. A brush of the arm that was far too long to be accidental.
Hell, you had even outright said that he was cute during a communal meal, his cheeks flushing a delightful shade of purple before he quickly looked away.
What more could he possibly need? An engraved invitation? A formal declaration from the Tsahìk herself?
You weren't quite thinking straight as you stomped toward Rotxo where he emerged from the water on his ilu, his sleek body glistening with droplets that caught the afternoon light. His eyes widened as he nervously began to stammer out a greeting, only to be silenced by you smacking him with your tail—not hard enough to truly hurt, but with enough force to make your point.
"Am I hideous?" you hissed, your hands planted firmly on your hips.
Rotxo tilted his head, his expression one of complete confusion. "No, no, what—" he began, but you cut him off.
"So then why have you been avoiding all my advances? Rotxo, I have given you such an easy way in. So it's either I'm ugly or you're an incredibly oblivious skxawng."
He flinched at your words, his shoulders slumping as he stared down at the sand bashedly. The anger in your chest softened slightly at the sight, replaced by a growing concern. You placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension there.
"Hey," you said softly. "It's okay. You can tell me anything."
Rotxo sighed heavily, the sound carrying the weight of his confession. "I've seen the signs," he admitted quietly. "I am a skxawng, but not in the way you're thinking." He risked a glance at you, his eyes filled with vulnerability. "I've never... done anything of the sort. With anyone. And I didn't want to disappoint you."
Your heart swelled with a mixture of emotions—surprise, compassion, and something else you couldn't quite name. "Rotxo," you said gently, "why would you think you'd disappoint me?"
"Because you're... you," he said, gesturing vaguely at you. "Perfect. And I'm just... me. I've never even kissed anyone properly. What would I possibly have to offer someone like you?"
The raw honesty in his voice struck you deeply. All this time, you had been building him up in your mind as this confident, experienced warrior who was out of your league, when in reality, he was just as nervous and uncertain as you were.
"Rotxo," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped closer, "I think you have a lot more to offer than you realize."
His eyes widened slightly as you closed the distance between you, your hand still resting on his shoulder. "I don't know what to do," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly.
"Then let me show you," you replied, leaning in slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away if he wanted to.
When your lips finally met his, it was hesitant at first—a gentle exploration that spoke of uncharted territory. Rotxo's lips were soft and unsure against yours, moving with an awkwardness that was endearing rather than off-putting. You took the lead, guiding his lips with yours, teaching him the rhythm you preferred. His hands hovered uncertainly at his sides before finally coming to rest hesitantly on your waist.
As the kiss deepened, you felt him grow more confident. His lips began to move with more purpose, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. A small sound of satisfaction escaped him as he tilted his head, deepening the connection. You smiled against his mouth, pleased with his eagerness to learn.
Pulling away slightly, you guided his lips to your neck. "Kiss me where it feels right," you murmured, tilting your head to give him better access.
Rotxo followed your instructions without hesitation, pressing tentative kisses along the column of your throat. His inexperience showed in the slightly clumsy way he nipped at your skin, but the enthusiasm more than made up for any lack of technique. He explored your neck and shoulders with growing confidence, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.
He paused for a moment, standing back up straight and looking down at you, his hands still holding your waist gently. "I... I want to make you feel good..." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
You let out a small giggle, taking his hand and leading him toward a cluster of broad-leafed plants near the beach that would provide some privacy. The setting sun cast long shadows across the sand as you settled on a smooth boulder, guiding Rotxo to stand between your legs.
Looking up at him, you could see the mixture of nervousness and desire in his eyes. "It's okay," you said softly, reaching out to slowly push him down until he was kneeling in front of you. "Just follow my lead."
Rotxo looked up at you with wide eyes, his hands resting tentatively on your thighs. "I've never..." he began, but you silenced him with a gentle shake of your head.
"I know," you replied. "That's why I'm going to show you."
You guided his hands to the waistband of your tewng, your fingers covering his as you helped him untie the knot. The fabric fell away, exposing you to his view. Rotxo's breath hitched audibly, a sharp intake of air that was almost a gasp. His eyes, wide with a mixture of awe and raw desire, traced the lines of your body, lingering on the subtle bioluminescent patterns that began to glow faintly across your hips and thighs in the twilight. He looked utterly mesmerized, as if he were witnessing something sacred and forbidden all at once.
"Touch me," you whispered, your voice a low, sultry command. You took his hand, his fingers trembling slightly against yours, and guided it directly toward your heat. The moment his skin made contact with yours, you felt a jolt of electricity. "Feel how much I want this."
His fingers brushed against your slick folds, and you couldn't suppress a small, sharp gasp at the contact. It was feather-light, hesitant, but it sent a wave of pleasure straight through you. Rotxo froze instantly, his entire body going rigid with panic. "Did I... did I hurt you?" he stammered, his eyes flying up to meet yours, wide with alarm.
You shook your head, a slow smile spreading across your face as you saw the genuine concern etched into his features. "No," you breathed, your voice thick with desire. "Far from it. Don't stop."
Seeing the pleasure written so clearly across your face seemed to give him a surge of confidence. He relaxed slightly, his touch becoming more deliberate as he began to explore you with growing curiosity. "Like this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly as his fingers slid experimentally through your wetness, tracing the shape of your folds with a newfound boldness.
You nodded, your head falling back against the cool, smooth surface of the boulder behind you. A soft moan escaped your lips as his fingers found your clit, circling it with a hesitancy that was somehow more arousing than any skilled touch you'd experienced before. He was learning you, mapping your most sensitive spots with an earnest dedication that made your heart ache.
"Don't be too fast with your tongue," you cooed, reaching down to gently cup the back of his head, encouraging him to lean closer. "Feel the rhythm. Listen to my body."
Rotxo needed no further encouragement. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive skin before his tongue made contact. The first touch was tentative, almost shy—a soft, broad stroke that was more exploratory than anything else. But as you responded with soft moans of encouragement, your fingers tangling in his hair, he grew bolder.
It was a bit sloppy at first, sure. His movements were uncoordinated, his rhythm erratic as he tried to figure out what felt best. But there was an enthusiasm to his efforts that was utterly intoxicating. He was completely focused on you, his entire being devoted to learning what made you gasp, what made you moan, what made your hips arch toward his mouth in silent demand.
Once Rotxo found a suitable pace, it surprisingly felt good. Really good. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself growing wetter with each passing moment, your body responding to his earnest attentions with an intensity that surprised even you. He seemed to sense your growing arousal, his movements becoming more confident as he realized he was pleasing you.
"Put a finger in me," you panted, your hips arching toward his mouth as the pleasure began to build to an almost unbearable intensity. "Please, Rotxo..."
Though he was nervous, he complied, slowly easing one finger into your heat. The sensation was overwhelming—your eyes rolled back into your head at the feeling of him filling you, even just slightly. Your inner walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing him deeper as you let out a guttural moan of pure pleasure.
You began panting heavier, your chest rising and falling rapidly as he continued to work his magic on you. One hand gripped his hair tightly, holding him in place as you ground your hips against his face, seeking more of the delicious friction he was providing. Rotxo whined at the action, the sound sending vibrations through your core that only heightened your pleasure.
He seemed to gain confidence with each passing moment, adding a second finger as he curled them inside you, stroking that sensitive spot deep within that made your entire body tremble. His tongue worked in tandem with his fingers, flicking and circling your clit with an eagerness that was utterly endearing.
You could feel yourself approaching the edge, your body tensing with anticipation as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity. Your thighs began to tremble, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you teetered on the brink of release. Rotxo seemed to sense your impending orgasm, redoubling his efforts as he worked to push you over the edge.
Just as you felt yourself beginning to tip over, your body tensing with the promise of release, you pulled his head away, much to his dismay. "Not yet," you whispered, seeing the confusion and disappointment in his eyes as he looked up at you, his face glistening with your arousal. "I want to feel you inside me when I cum."
Standing up on slightly shaky legs, the aftershocks of his mouth still tingling through your core, you guided Rotxo to sit on the boulder you had just vacated. His movements were clumsy, his limbs feeling like they didn't quite belong to him after the intensity of your pleasure. He looked up at you, his pupils blown wide with a mixture of awe and apprehension, his hands resting uncertainly on his knees. The setting sun caught the side of his face, highlighting the sheer vulnerability in his expression.
You straddled his lap, the warmth of his body seeping into yours even through the thin layers of your remaining clothing. The position was intimate, dominant, and Rotxo's breath hitched. His hands flew to your hips, gripping them like his life depended on it. His touch was desperate, a lifeline in a sea of sensations he was utterly unprepared for. He looked terrified, but in a way that said he was terrified he'd cum any moment, terrified that this perfect moment would be over before it had truly begun.
You rolled your hips against him, just once, a slow, deliberate grind of your clothed core against the hard ridge straining his tewng. The friction was electric. It was enough to have Rotxo burying his head in your shoulder, his face pressed against the crook of your neck as he shuddered violently.
"Do-don't..." he stammered against your skin, his voice muffled and ragged. "I'll..."
You smiled, a wicked, knowing curve of your lips. You brought one hand down between your bodies, cupping the solid heat of his bulge through his loincloth and giving it a firm, possessive squeeze. He jolted, a choked-off groan escaping him.
"Hold it in, pretty," you murmured, your voice a low purr against his ear. "For as long as you can, okay? I want to feel all of you."
He nodded his head, the motion jerky and frantic against your shoulder, though he did it extremely begrudgingly. You could feel the tremor that ran through his entire body, the sheer force of will it was taking him to obey.
You rolled your hips again, setting a slow, agonizing pace. Each circle of your hips was a deliberate torture, a promise of what was to come. Rotxo couldn't control his moans, letting out small, high-pitched whines and whimpers against your skin. His hands, still gripping your hips, spasmed with every movement you made. He began kissing all over your chest, his lips hot and clumsy against your collarbones and the swell of your breasts above your top. You had to admit, he knew just what to do even with his lack of expertise; his desperation was its own form of skill.
You slowly brushed his tewng to the side, your fingers tracing the line of his hip before pulling the woven fabric away. His erection sprang free, thick and flushed a deep purple, the tip already beading with moisture. It was a beautiful sight, and it made your mouth water.
"Is this okay?" you asked, leaning in to kiss his cheek, your lips ghosting over his skin.
He nodded eagerly, his head lifting from your shoulder to look down at where your bodies were nearly joined. His eyes were dark, fixed on the sight of you poised above him.
Pushing your own tewng to the side, you raised your hips slightly, positioning yourself over him. You sank down, just the tip of his dick breaching your entrance. It was a good size, longer than you'd expected, but it was Rotxo's thickness that really got you. The stretch was immediate, a delicious, stinging pressure that had you gasping.
You hissed, biting your plump bottom lip with your small fangs to keep from crying out. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain.
Rotxo threw his head back at the feeling, his throat exposed as he let out a guttural sound. "A-are you okay? Am I hurting you?" he managed to squeak out, his hands tightening on your hips as if to pull you away.
You shook your head with a whine, pressing your lips to his to silence both his moans and your own. It was a messy, desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue. You stayed like that for a moment, just the tip of him inside you, letting him get used to the feeling of your wet, squelching pussy clenching around him. He was drunk on the sensation, and honestly wished he could stay like that forever, suspended in this moment of perfect, torturous connection.
"What-what do I do from here?" he stammered out against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you with wide, pleading eyes, like a puppy dog begging for direction.
You smiled, your heart swelling with a fierce tenderness. You petted the top of his head, your fingers stroking through his soft, dark hair. You leaned toward his ear, your warm breath tickling his skin as you whispered out an "I got this," before pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his temple.
You began to move, sinking down further, taking another inch of him. Then you began bouncing slowly, each downward movement forcing Rotxo to physically restrain himself from cumming. You could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his entire body went rigid with every roll of your hips. It was a power you had never experienced, a heady rush that made you bold.
Your pace quickened, your movements becoming more fluid as you adjusted to his size. Both of your heads rolled back as you held onto his chest for support, your nails digging into his shoulders. His hands, no longer content to stay on your hips, wandered your body. They traced the curve of your spine, cupped your ass, slid up to tangle in your hair. He stared up at you, his mouth rolled open in awe at the sight of you—your beautiful turquoise skin glowing softly in the dimming light, your braids falling down your shoulders to brush against his chest, your breasts bouncing in your top, the hard points of your nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric.
You were both close to reaching your high, the coil of pleasure tightening low in your belly. You whine, gesturing with your head to his hands, which were currently gripping your ass.
"I need..." you whimpered out, your voice breathy and broken. "I need your fingers."
Rotxo was more than extremely eager; he was desperate to please. He quickly fumbled one hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, his fingers searching clumsily until you guided them to your clit.
"Rub it in circles," you panted, guiding his thumb to the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Quick, but not hard, okay? Just like that."
He nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully rubbed, following your instructions perfectly. The added stimulation was your undoing. Your head fell limp on his shoulder, your body sagging against his as the pleasure crested, a tidal wave of ecstasy that washed over you, stealing your breath.
Rotxo was a moaning mess beneath you, and as praises fell from your lips—"Yes, Rotxo, just like that, you're so good, so perfect"—it only made him hornier. The feeling of you cumming around him, the sound of his name on your lips, was too much.
You came with a sharp cry, your entire body convulsing as you hissed and bit down into his shoulder. The sharp pain of your fangs sinking into his skin only furthered his pleasure, a perfect counterpoint to the overwhelming bliss.
"I can't... I think I'm gonna..." Rotxo whined out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
You quickly pulled off of him, his dick slipping out of you with a wet sound. In the same motion, you wrapped your hand around his slick, throbbing shaft, jerking him off with quick, firm strokes. It only took two pumps before he came with a guttural shout, his hot release spurting onto your stomach in thick, white ropes. His tail slapped against the rock behind him happily in a display of pure ecstasy, a rhythmic thumping that matched the pulse of his release.
As you both caught your breath, you could feel the gentle ocean breeze cooling your heated skin, drying the sweat and cum on your bodies. Rotxo looked at you with wonder in his eyes, his chest heaving with exertion, the bite mark on his shoulder already beginning to bruise a lovely shade of purple.
"That was..." he began, but seemed unable to find the words, his mind still reeling from the intensity of it all.
You smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently, a soft, sweet press of lips that was a stark contrast to the frantic passion of moments before.
"Amazing," you finished for him, your voice soft but sure. "And we're just getting started."
"We are?" Rotxo called out as you walked off, ears perking upwards as his mouth pulled into an excited grin.
