one shot
olo'eyktan!aonung x fem!tsahik!metkayina!reader
summary: yourself and a group of midwives show the divine feminine beauty and power of women.
tags: sfw , fluff , mention of childbirth (nun graphic)
a/n: HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY!! i hope all u ladies have a wonderful day AND MONTH!! we celebrate all women before us and after us. we will forever be grateful for the women who fought for our rights! we honor the incredible social, economic, cultural, and political achievements of women everywhere, while pushing forward for true gender equality. every woman making her mark big or small: you are powerful, you are essential, and you deserve every bit of celebration and justice coming your way! let's keep amplifying voices, demanding rights + justice + action for ALL women and girls!!
theme: labour
The sun hung low over the village of Awa'atlu, casting a golden glow over the warm waters that gently lapped up on the shore. Today was no ordinary day. The air hummed with anticipation, the kind where life or death was at play.
A young woman, Kiyru, strong, beloved, heavy with child, had gone into labor earlier this morning, and it was now late evening. The birth had turned difficult. The baby was positioned wrong, the mother's strength faltering after long hours of effort. Whispers spread through the clan like ripples across the sea. Something was wrong.
You, Tsahìk of the Metkayina, moved with precise calculation through the shallow birthing pool at the edge of the village. The water here was warm, shallow enough for the midwives to stand, yet deep enough to honor the First Breath ritual that would come, if Eywa willed the child to live. You knelt beside the laboring woman, your hands steady, your voice whispering gentle encouragements over the the thoughts that plagued her mind.
The midwives, experienced women of the clan, their arms strong from years of weaving, diving, and healing, worked in perfect harmony around you. One supported the mother's back, another monitored each contraction, while a third prepared strips of clean kelp cloth and healing pastes from ground coral and sea herbs. No man interfered. The warriors, hunters, even the Olo'eyktan himself, stood back at a respectful distance on the woven walkway above the pool.
Among them stood Aonung, your mate, the young Olo'eyktan, broad-shouldered and tall, his dark curls tied back, shark-tooth necklace resting against his chest. His arms were crossed, tail flicking once in tension, but he did not step forward. He knew better. This was a woman's domain, the sacred work of bringing new life from the sea's embrace. His eyes followed your every movement, pride and something deeper flickering there. Admiration for the power you wielded so quietly, so fiercely.
Kiyru cried out, her grip tightening on the arms of the midwives. You placed one hand on her swollen belly, the other placed on her chest, seeking Eywa's guidance through the spiritual connection. You felt the child's heartbeat, strong, but struggling. "Breathe with the tide," you murmured. "Let it carry you. Eywa sees you both."
The midwives adjusted their hold, guiding, encouraging. You pressed down carefully on her stomach, ensuring movement inside. Slowly, with careful pressure and your directed touch, the baby began to turn. You looked up at Kiyru, commanding she begin to push again. Fierce and unyielding she did, her face set in determination.
Minutes stretched like hours. Then, a shift. One final exertion, and a small slippery form glided into the water. Instinct taking over, the baby wirggled its way to the surface, ready to take its First Breath.
The eldest midwife's hands were there in an instant. She lifted her just enough to clear the tiny mouth and nose. A soft gurgle, then silence. You leaned in, your own hands joining hers, one supporting the babies head while the other gently stroked along her back in the known rhythm meant to coax the First Breath. Her small chest rose. Hesitant, then expanded. A piercing cry rang out across the lagoon.
Kiyru sobbed in relief, her exhausted body trembling as the midwives guided the infant to her chest. Skin to skin, the connection immediate though the fresh tsaheylu. The new mother wrapped her arms around her daughter, tears falling free. The midwives stepped back slightly, forming a protective semicircle.
You remained kneeling in the shallows, one hand still resting on Kiyru's shoulder, the other brushing a damp strand from the newborn's tiny forehead. "She is strong," you whispered, voice carrying the weight of Eywa's blessing. "Like her mother."
The birthing pool seemed to shimmer brighter now, the golden evening light shining through the ripples as if Eywa herself celebrated. Kiyru's breathing steadied, her exhaustion giving way to quiet wonder as she gazed down at the tiny face pressed to her heart. A thread of life connecting them directly to Eywa's great web.
You stepped back slightly, allowing mother and child to grow comfortable with their bond. You wiped your forehead, wet with the sea water and your own sweat. You looked over at the other midwives, cleaning the afterbirth, offering natural broth to the mother. They were the backbone of the People, the keepers of continuity, the ones who carried the future in their palms.
Only now did everyone release a breath of ease, releasing the tension everyone had held in their lungs.
Aonung stepped to the very edge of the pool, kneeling low so his shadow fell gently across the water. His eyes, usually sharp with the confidence of a leader, were soft, almost vulnerable as they moved from the newborn to Kiyru, then finally to you.
He didn't speak at first. He simply watched, tail still, breathing measured. He leaned closer, just for you to hear. "All my life I've been taught to lead, to hunt, to protect." His fingers flexed once against the edge of the platform. "But this... what you've done here, what all of you have done, it's power I can never touch. Not like this."
You rose slowly from the water, droplets tracing glowing paths down your skin. Meeting his gaze, you saw the truth there. Not envy, but a deep, abiding respect.
"It isn't about touching it," you said quietly, stepping closer, water lapping at your hips. "It's about knowing when to stand back. When to let the women carry what only we can carry." Your hand lifted, brushing a stray curl behind your ear. "You protect the reef so we can nurture what lives within it. That is partnership. That is balance." You said, watching Kiyru and her new baby.
"Still," he murmured, "watching you command the tide itself... seeing Kiyru find her strength because of yours... it reminds me every day why I chose you. Why I'd choose you again, in every lifetime."
Kiyru rocked her daughter gently, whispering praises only meant for her. The clan lingered at the edges honoring the moment without intrusion.
"Labour," you whispered, carrying the weight of the day, of centuries of women before you, "is not just pain. It's creation. It's endurance. It's the quiet fury that brings life from the dark."
His hand found yours under the water's edge, fingers intertwining. "And you bear it beautifully," he replied. "Like the sea itself."
As the sun dipped lower, painting the lagoon in deepening amber and rose, the air filled with the gentle sounds of celebration. In that sacred circle of women, it bore new life at the very center.
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this one tugged on my heartstrings a little because i'm a nursing major who's pursuing labor and delivery <3