#tsireya x reader

[supermenz]

I think about you (so don't let go)

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. 

In the end, you utter softly, “Pril.”

[woozycatz]

the risk of wanting you .ೃ࿔｡˚༘

Prompt: what will you choose—love or duty? bound by responsibility, the metkayina tsakarem cannot help but fall in love with neteyam sully after his family seeks refuge among her people.

Pairing: fem!metkayina reader x neteyam sully, fem!metkayina reader x mom!ronal, fem!metkayina reader x dad!tonowari. Aonung x sister!reader, Tsireya x sister!reader

Wc: 7.9k

Warnings: kissing, use of y/n, touching, secret relationship, arranged relationships, mentions of mating, touchy!feely!neteyam, fighting, mentions of blood, male on female violence (not neteyam), fluff!, slightest bit of angst.

Translations: yawne (beloved), Tsakarem (spiritual leader in training)

Being the eldest daughter of the olo’eyktan came with many demands, and a lot of training. With that belonging came new challenges, and a good deal of pressure.

It had been weeks since the Sully’s had last sought and received uturu from the Metkayina reef people. As your siblings grew friendships with the newcomers, you fell short—hardly able to spend time with them as your duties and training kept you away.

Trust that you understood your position all too well. You must be fierce, do not fret, show no weakness as you will one day become a strong, spiritual matriarch just like your mother.

Atleast, it’s what your father’s always told you.

Your role as Tsakarem often keeps you from making your own decisions, leaving the important things to your parents. But the moment you saw Neteyam, your mind expanded.

His honey gold eyes, his smooth, dark blue skin, and his lively braids—it all made your stomach whirl.

You’d sneak off at night to see him, it was easy when everyone, even the group thought you two just didn’t like each other. Your ambivalence only grew when you thought of the reactions your parents would give if they’d ever found out.

The night he began to secretly court you was full of complexity, but excitement. You’d never even thought of rebelling against your parents’ strict and robust morals.

You sit cross legged beside your mother in the large, main marui pod, rolling herbs into pastilles and studying new tree sap recipes for healing.

“How is it going, daughter?” She asks, moving to crouch over you and superintend your work.

“Mm” You hum softly, it is all you can manage to do when you are as focused as you are now. Your body shifts, giving her space so that she can observe closely without putting too much pressure on herself.

The distant sound of yipping causes your attention to shift to the flaps of the pod entry, observing through the slight gaps between them; your siblings and the Sully children, leaping from the council platform and into the sea—which you loved. so much.

“Daughter,” Your mother calls, her voice cutting through your thoughts. “Focus.” her hands crush the rest of the herbs that you had sort of abandoned.

“Mother, may I go to the water?”

“We are almost done here.”

“Tsireya and Ao’ get to do whatever they want.”

“No, they have been assigned to educate the Sully’s. They are working hard too, with just opposite tasks.”

Your arms cross and your head tilts, it has been weeks since they arrived. What more could they possibly be learning? “It has been weeks, they know what they’re doing.”

Your mother sighs, her hands stopping their movements. “Really? Tuktirey is still young. She needs more attention, more attention means more lessons.”

You grumble as she puts the herbs and bowls away to sit beside you, holding your hand and sitting up straight, her legs criss crossed—she teaches you to listen for signs, to understand the connection between the people and our deity. And to teach others what you have learned, so that you can pass your knowledge down to your sister and other young clan members.

Eclipse comes faster than you’d anticipated, but it does not bother you, it only means you’ll get to see Neteyam.

Your mother dismisses you after long hours of training, while skipping through the village, you spot Tsireya, Aonung, and the Sully kids, returning from the water.

“Sister!” She rushes forward, grabbing your arms and smiling. “Where have you been? You should have joined us, it was fun. Please, join us tomorrow.”

“Yes, I will. Go comb your hair, it will be knotted from all of the swimming you’ve done. Make sure to…”

Tsireya’s eyes roll playfully, her hands letting out of yours. “I know, I know.” She laughs and runs to the main pod, you watch her go for a minute before approaching the Ilu pens where Neteyam is storing away the reins and saddles. watching him silently through the woven saddle racks, you pick up the rest of them.

“I can feel your eyes.” He smirks teasingly, leaning down to look back at you.

“I know,” You shake your head, fighting back a giggle. “We have not spoken in days.” Your smile falters briskly, hands ceasing before moving again, slower this time.

His smirk is wiped away instantly, he hangs the saddles up and moves quickly to stand before you. “I’m sorry, it’s hard when everyone thinks we hate each other. I don’t want them to suspect anything either, it could cost you your position.”

A sigh you’d been holding back escapes from your lips, “Then let’s go together—tonight, secretly. At the three brothers like usual.” You plead, hands dropped to your sides.

“Okay, yes.” His fingers hook gently around the rough fabrics that make up the guipu skirt which your mother weaved for you. “Come here, please”

“I will see you later.”

His eyebrows pinch together subtly, he’s never had to ask you to come here twice.

He watches you set off towards your pod, hands clenched tightly around his head. Neteyam knows that you’re angry. Why wouldn’t you be? He hasn’t even come close to your usual spot in weeks. No explanation. No apology. Just silence.

He snarls to himself, walking slowly to his family’s pod. Everyone is there, hooking up the hammocks and preparing for bed.

“Where have you been? C’mon, grab your stuff and hook it up. Let’s go.” Jake ushers him as soon as he steps into their dwelling, shaking his head marginally as he helps Tuk with hers.

“Yes sir.” He sets his hammock up right beside Lo’aks, his fingers moving steadily around the intricate weavings.

In your marui, your hammock is already set and ready to be slept in even though you won’t be using it. As you pick out your outfit for you and Neteyam’s meet up, your father comes in unexpectedly.

“Where are you going at this time, daughter?” His arms cross as he stands at the entrance, leaning against the wall.

“Nowhere. I am just planning for tomorrow's council meeting.”

He nods, moving towards the hammock which he shares with his mate. The rest of your family shuffles in, your brother being annoying as usual, snatching you and your sisters belongings and tugging at your long, black hair.

“Aonung! Stop!” You snap, snatching your hair from his grasp. Tsireya slaps him lightly across the head, leaping away soon after to lay in her hammock, laughing aloud.

“Quiet!” Your father hollers, rubbing the tip of his nose with his fingers in exasperation.

You quickly lay in your own nivi, your outfit suspiciously fancy for sleep. Your parents decide to make no comment, turning over and resting in each other's arms.

You wait up for everyone to doze until they finally do. You stand as quietly as you can, tiptoeing out of the domicile and running to the Ilu pens as soon as your feet meet the sand.

Neteyam is already there, prepared with food, water, and mats. Prepared in ways you hadn’t expected.

You keep your mouth shut the whole way there, it wasn’t hard to miss his gaze—he kept his eyes on your back the entire time, you could almost feel them bleeding through you.

At the three brothers, he dismounts and helps you onto the rocks. Neteyam sets up the mats, splaying the food and drinks around it. “Come on baby.” He says carefully, reaching for your hand, the other tapping a spot beside him.

You eye him for a beat before sitting down where his hand was. “What is it?”

“I’m apologizing. For not meeting with you.”

He reaches out, rubbing small circles on your shoulders.

“I just wish you’d have told me why you weren’t meeting with me. Can you?”

“I just didn’t want to be too obvious, my father and brother were catching onto my disappearance,”

“Oh. Well we can’t let that happen…”

“I know. I just want you to be happy. I know you love your people, and I know you’re ready to take on your mothers role.”

“Yeah.” You mumble, staring into the sea, hands holding his shoulders. You always had to remind yourself of your position, to keep you from being reckless—but you never had to worry around Neteyam.

His hands trail down your body, pulling you in by the waist and kissing your cheek gently. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s just enjoy this…hm?”

“Okay,” You whisper as you try the fresh pasuk he’d brung. “Mm” you hum, offering it to him.

Neteyam didn’t even eat much, just the food you offered. All he could do was smile as he watched you enjoy them,

“Come here,” He says, his voice a low whisper. “Closer.” You look up from the fruit in your mouth before scooting closer, the juices dripping down your chin.

He wipes away the juice that had been squeezed from the fruit, peppering your face in soft kisses, chuckling charmingly and pulling you into his lap to finally kiss your lips.

The kiss was gentle at first, slow, like he was trying to hold onto this moment. Your eyes shuttered closed, hands exploring his hair and braid pattern desperately.

“We need…” You breathe, pulling away for a second—your forehead against his. “We should get back. Soon.”

“Soon.” He repeats, continuing to kiss you, deeply this time. One hand tangled in your hair, while the other held your thigh, steadying you on his lap.

“Neteyam,” you gasp, tugging at his hair.

He continues for what feels like eternity, leaving sloppy kisses down your neck before pulling away. “Okay, okay.”

“We must get back.” You murmur between pants, hands adjusting your ruffled top, then moving to his hair—wiping it from his face.

He reserves the rest of the food he’d brought, storing it in the basket and standing, helping you up as he moved towards the ilu that was still there.

With his hands in yours, he sends you onto the creature gently, sitting behind you right after, his chest flush against your back, broad shoulders enveloping your shadow.

You ride back to the village, sharing soft laughs and mindless jokes with one another, when you reach the lagoon, you both fall silent—scattering around quickly, but quietly, as if hunting a meer deer or a fast fish.

You kiss him, a soft, sweet goodnight gesture. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“I hope so.” He smiles, pressing one last lingering kiss against your hair.

You tiptoe back to your marui as quietly as you could, removing the beautiful weavings that you had slipped into earlier and wearing more comfortable, satin ones.

When you drop the thick, heavy outfit you’d been wearing before, a shell that held the whole top together fell especially hard.

Your eyes shoot up immediately, just hoping your family didn’t hear the loud thud. Aonung stirs and then his head jerks directly towards you.

“What are you doing up?” He whispers loudly, standing spindly.

“None of your business." You snap sharply, moving to pick up the clothes.

“Ah, ah.” Aonung crouches down faster and holds your outfit up.

“Give it to me! You will wake mother and father.” You grit through your teeth.

“This smells like the Sully boy,” he taunts, waving the ioi around as if it were a toy.

“Aonung! Those are special beads,” you snatch the apparel from him, clutching the shells and beads it is adorned in.

“Then why were you wearing them out? Hmm?”

“None of your business! Go back to sleep. Now!” You slap his hand away, snarling sharply, hanging your clothing on your personal belongings rack that your father crafted for you, a symbol of familial love.

Aonung watches you silently, his gaze softening just a fraction. “Fine, sorry.”

You turn back, watching him lie down before reposing with a soft blanket from your childhood.

The next day is laced with duty and gathering—hunters, including Neteyam, his father, Lo’ak, Rotxo, your brother, your father, and several other young hunters among the metkayina vanished to amass the village's food preservation.

You are crouched beside your friends, heating stews and proteins which were prepared some days prior—maintained nourishments that are too difficult to find and cook all in one day.

As you wrap up the reheating, you join your mother for a quick ritual, then you hear of the hunters returning.

The men rounded up baskets of beast meat, seeds, fish, rich drinking water, and herbs for spices.

Your fingers wrap gently around the sash which the young warrior, Amak had given you. “Thank you, Amak—for these gifts.” You smile, passing the sash down to the line of women.

You turn to walk back to your marui, and as you do, two large hands wrap around your waist and pull you to a secluded area behind your home.

You gasp sharply before realizing it is Neteyam. Your breathing soothed and your eyes softened. “You scared me,”

“I’m sorry yawne” He laughs, kissing your cheeks carefully.

“Careful, Teyam…” You whispered softly, “someone will see us.”

“I’m tired of keeping this a secret.” His voice was low, frustrated and serious.

“No,” you whisper—not harsh, not angry, calm, controlled. You pull back.

“No?” He stills.

“We are not telling anyone.”

His brows draw together. “Why?”

“Because the moment we do, it stops being ours.”

That makes him pause, you lower your voice, glancing toward the open stretch of sand beyond your marui. Your father is speaking with Jake sully, your mother is blessing the catch, Aonung is watching everything as always.

“If we tell them, it becomes alliances, it becomes responsibilities.”

“And what is it now?”

You step closer, fingers coiling tightly into the cummerband around his waist. “It is mine, it is yours. No future titles, no duties. Just us.”

“You are not afraid?” he presses gently.

“Of being caught?” A small smile curves your lips. “Always.”

He exhales a soft laugh.

“But I am more afraid of losing this before we have had it long enough. We will tell them one day. When it does not feel like surrender.”

“And until then?”

“Until then we are quiet.”

Footsteps crunch faintly in the sand nearby, you both freeze as a shadow moves along the side of the marui, Aonung's voice drifts closer.

You shove Neteyam lightly toward the other side where he can sneak away. “Go.”

He doesn’t argue but before he slips away, he steals a quick kiss—warm, dangerous. “You like the risk,” he murmurs against your mouth.

You shove him again, cheeks flushing. “Go.”

He disappears around the curve of the pod just as your brother rounds the corner.

His eyes narrow. “You look suspicious.”

You fold your arms calmly. “You look nosy,”

His gaze lingers, then drifts behind you—searching. Your heart pounds so loudly you’re certain he can hear it, but Neteyam is gone. Aonung huffs, “mother wants you.”

“Then why are you still here?” You brush past him to find your mother. You assist her in preparing the bowls, and when the time comes—the entire village is there, surrounding your father.

The topic of the meeting has your heart thumping against your ribs, a shiver of instinctive fear running down your spine. Sky people.

All your life, you hadn’t worried about war. Now it has come. It would come. Your father, Neteyam, warriors of the clan going so far, you’d stay up worried—worrying that they would not return.

As the meeting wraps up, your parents call you to your marui for a brief, important talk.

You step into the quiet of your marui, woven walls glowing faintly in the evening light. Your mothers expression is calm, the weight behind her eyes pin you to the spot. Your father sits opposite her, hands folded in his lap.

“You have grown, daughter.” Your mother begins softly, there is no warmth in her tone. “Strong, intelligent, and careful. But you are also old enough to understand your duties as Tsakarem.”

You nod slowly, stomach twirling, head running with millions of possibilities.

Your father leans forward, voice deliberate. “It is time we speak of your future, daughter. The clan’s unity must be preserved, and there are decisions you must accept.”

Your chest tightens as if you know what is coming, but the words still struck like a tidal wave.

“You are to be mated with Amak. The future of the clan lies with you.”

Your ears dropped, tail pausing its movements and tucking itself between your legs.

Your mother reaches out, her fingers brushing your cheek. “You will understand in time. Your heart will follow your duty, as all Tsakarem have before you.”

But you do not feel comfort. You feel a storm. Anger. Desire. Fear. A part of you wants to scream. Another part knows the clan’s eyes will always follow.

If you were to see Neteyam again you could not falter.

As the days passed, you noticed your mother and father speaking with Amak’s parents more often than ever before.

You are on the ilu, riding with Neteyam, hands placed on his waist as your head rests against his back.

He stops nearby a rock, taking your hands and helping you climb up. “Come here.”

“They are speaking to Amak’s family again,” you say quietly.

His bubbly expression vanishes completely.

“They will arrange it,” you continue. “Not now. But soon.”

His jaw flexes so tightly you can see the muscle shift. He steps closer—too close for propriety, not close enough for comfort.

“You will not accept it,” Neteyam mutters, fingers clenched around yours as if anchoring himself.

“I have no choice!” You cry, hands weakening.

“Hey…” He whispers, tugging your waist and lifting you onto a higher part of the rock. “It’s alright, we’ll find a way.”

You close your eyes, leaning into him, feeling the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath against your own. The world around you—the clan, the looming duties, the weight of expectations seems to shrink to just this moment. Just the two of you.

“I can’t go against my parents,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I am their Tsakarem. I have responsibilities, Teyam.”

“And so do I,” he counters softly, hands running through your curls. He tilts your chin so your eyes meet his. “We will find a way.” He repeats.

He steps between your legs, his hands rubbing soft circles against your hips. He pulls you in, lips trailing down your neck as you close your eyes, arms wrapped around his shoulders tightly, hands tugging at his braids. “Neteyam…” you whisper, voice trembling.

He continues, smiling softly, hands moving from your hips and unto your waist, sliding under the flaps of your beads to touch soft skin.

“Someone will catch us…” Your hands move to his chest.

“Shh.” He whispers, hands desperate, pulling you close again.“No one sees us here. It’s just us.”

You lean in once more, lips finding his, slow at first, teasing, tasting, savoring the risk. Your hands lower along his back as his fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. Your hearts hammer in unison.

A soft sigh escapes you as he trails kisses along your jaw, your hands tangled in his hair now—for a moment, nothing exists outside of this.

A shadow rides over the water, both of you too deep in one another to care. Then a splash in the water catches your attention—you both part, freezing mid motion, hearts leaping to your throats.

Aonung stands there, eyes wide in shock and anger—his arms are crossed, jaw set tight. “Get off of her! Right now!” Aonung snaps, voice cracking.

Your brother rushes forward, pushing Neteyam back into the rock.

“Aonung!” You yelp, reaching for his arm.

He pushes you back as well, carefully before pinning Neteyam down, punches landing on his face.

“Stop now! Please!” You scream, pulling your brother away.

Neteyam only retaliates, turning over and fighting back. “Neteyam!” You snap, he freezes for a second, but your brother's continuous slaps bring him back to the moment.

You cover your mouth—unsure how to separate the two from one another, you can’t help but laugh.

You manage to pull Neteyam off of your brother at some point and he leans against the rock, panting softly.

“Did you choose this?! You bring him here for this?!” Your brother questions, not angry with you—but with Neteyam.

“We…we’re careful, Aonung”

He calms slightly with the knowledge that you did choose this. But his frustration remains as he remembers your title in the clan.

“Careful?! You’re Tsakarem! You have responsibilities! You are pure! And here you are sneaking off with this forest boy in the evening!”

“We know the risks and we love each other."

“Love?!” Aonung spits the word like it’s venom. “Love doesn’t matter! You’re promised—promises are not optional!”

“It has not been sealed! it is just a mere plan!”

“Father and mother will hear about this.”

“Do you think my life is a game to be arranged for convenience? Do you think I want this? Do you think I want to mate with someone chosen for me, for duty alone, while my heart beats for someone else?”

“You are blind! Naive! you are risking everything!” Aonung studies you, jaw tight, eyes flashing with anger and something softer—concern. Your expression is small, eyes big and glossy. After a long pause, he finally exhales sharply. “Fine,” he snaps, spinning on his heel. “I won’t tell. But… do not think I won’t be watching.”

He goes away on the ilu and you turn to Neteyam, his expression is soft as he glares down at you—arms still closed around your waist. “Are you okay?” He whispers.

“No,” You press your face against his chest. “I am so pressured. The constant reminder of duty crushes my ribs.”

He holds you against him with one hand on your head.

“Your nose is bleeding.” You observe, wiping some of it away with your thumb.

“Let’s get back.”

You nod, taking his hand and helping him onto the ilu, you stay seated behind him, your eyes fixed on his back and the bruises your brother left there. “I can assess these when we get back.”

“Leave them. They will heal themselves.”

“Are you angry with me?”

He doesn’t answer at first, guiding the ilu through the darkening water, the reef glowing faintly beneath you. His skin is warm under your delicate palms, muscles tight beneath your touch.

“No,” Neteyam says finally, his voice quiet. “Not at you.”

Your hand trails down to his cummerband, tightening around the fabric. “At my brother?”

“At all of it.” His voice is rougher now. “At the way they speak about you like you are something to be traded. Angry at the way I have to stand there and pretend that I do not—” His accent is thick as he speaks.

Your chin rests on his shoulder, back arched to reach his height. “Do not what?”

“Do not love you.”

The words sink into you slowly, heavy and anchoring. “I do not want you fighting my brother.”

“I do not want to fight him either.” He exhales sharply. “But I will not let anyone speak about you like that. Not even Aonung.”

“He thinks he is protecting me.”

“And he is,” Neteyam admits after a moment of silence. “In the only way he knows how.”

The village lights come into view, both of you straightening instinctively, distance slipping between your bodies even before reaching the shore.

He helps you down first, hands lingering at your waist for half a breath too long. “Meet me tomorrow?” He asks softly, leaning closer.

You hesitate, not because you don’t want to see him, but because you do. “Yes,” you whisper. “But not at the rocks. Aonung will be watching now.”

A faint smile brushes his bruised lips. “I thought you liked the risk.”

You nudge his chest gently. “Be serious.”

“I am,” his eyes soften. “I am serious about you.”

Your chest aches. “We have to be smarter,” you murmur. “If they seal the arrangement with Amak…”

His face hardens at the name “…then what?”

You have no answer. “I do not know,” you admit. “But I will not surrender quietly.”

Sleep does not come easy that night, you lie in your hammock, staring at the woven ceiling of your marui. Across the space, you can hear Aonung shifting.

“You are reckless.” He mutters into the darkness.

“—You would not understand.”

“I understand more than you think, I see the way father looks at you. Like you are already carrying the clan on your shoulders.”

Your throat tightens, no response.

“He will not bend,” Aonung continues. “If this mating strengthens alliances, he will not bend.”

“And mother?”

“She will say it is Eywa’s will.” Silence settles between you.

“Aonung,” you whisper.

He sighs, already knowing what you will ask. “I will not tell,” he says again. “But if this destroys you, I will drag that forest boy away myself.”

You smile at that, “it is not Neteyam’s fault. It will not destroy me.”

“You hope,” he corrects.

The sun had barely risen over the Metkayina reef, casting golden light that danced across gentle waves. You follow the group as they moved toward the hunting grounds, the air filled with the soft squawks of the tsurak and the faint whisper of the reef.

Rotxo, Aonung and Lo’ak were joking as usual, laughter echoing over the water, Tuk and Kiri darted across the shoreline, chasing each other and shrieking. Tsireya stood nearby, her gaze sweeping the water.

You and Neteyam stand silently apart, helping to untangle nets that had drifted from the hunters’ return. Your hands brush more often than necessary—yet both of you move with mechanical precision.

“Careful there,” Rotxo says without looking up, tossing a shell at the water. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the nets.”

You give a soft nod, avoiding Neteyam’s gaze. He grunted something that could have been an agreement—or a complaint, but said nothing.

Lo’ak leaned against a rock, watching. “They really don’t like each other, huh?” he mutters to Rotxo and your brother, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yeah…you can feel the tension,” Rotxo laughs aloud.

Tsireya tilted her head slightly, lips pressed together as she watched you and Neteyam carefully. “I think it’s more than just dislike,”

Your eyebrows pinched together, they are speaking as if you were both not right there. Neteyam’s jaw tightened just the slightest, no one else noticed the faint smile he tried—and failed to suppress.

Aonung’s eyes never left you two, he knew the truth of what was happening with you both, and he noticed the quiet choreography of your hands, the glances no one else caught. The others only saw what they expected; hostility, irritation, and the unspoken tension between you and Neteyam.

His eyes followed you two as you finished untangling the net, his jaw was tight, he had seen enough the day before to know that the tension everyone else thought was hate—was something far more tender.

The next days are heavier, Amak appears more often, kind, respectful—strong. He brings you carved shells, rare corals, gifts that would make any Tsakarem beam, you accept them with practiced smiles.

But every time his fingers brush yours, every time his hands touch your skin—you feel nothing. That frightens you more than anything.

Neteyam grows quieter in public, careful. Every time your eyes meet across the sand, it feels like something stolen and sacred.

One evening, as the sun sinks low, casting golden streaks across the water, your father calls you to stand beside him before the clan. Your pulse stutters, communal beads hanging elegantly over your smooth skin.

“Soon,” he announces, voice carrying across the reef. “We will celebrate unity between families.”

Your stomach drops—now the whole clan knows that you are promised. You do not look at Neteyam, you cannot.

After the gathering disperses, he finds you anyway. Behind the ilu pens. “This is happening,”

“Yes.” You frown, hands fiddling around with your neck accessories.

“You still say we wait?”

Your composure crumbles. “What do you want me to do?” You whisper fiercely. “Run? Abandon my mother? My people? My duties?”

“I want you to choose me, baby.”

The words hang between you like a blade, you step back slightly, letting it fall. “I am trying to,” you say, voice trembling. “But choosing you means tearing something else apart.”

He steps forward, eyes blazing—not angry, just desperate. “then let it tear”

Your heart pounds so loudly you can barely hear the waves. “I cannot—i will not be the reason my clan fractures.”

“And I cannot be the reason you live a life you do not want.”

Silence falls over you both, wind moving through woven pods, the laughter of children near the shore, your life pulling in two directions.

“I need time,” you say finally.

He studies your face, searching for certainty. “You have some time,” he says quietly, “but not much.”

The following day is too bright, the reef reflects sunlight in sharp, blinding streaks as the clan gathers near the central platform. Warriors repair their weapons, other men and women among the clan weaving and cooking.

You move through it all with your chin lifted, spiritual beads gleaming against your skin like a reminder of who you are supposed to be.

Near the drying racks, two young hunters murmur to loudly. “I saw her,” one whispers. “At the ilu pens with the sully boy.”

“The Olo’eyktan’s daughter?” the other scoffs, “no, she is promised to Amak.”

“They were not standing like strangers.”

You freeze, back still turned. Across the platform, Amak pauses mid step, his shoulders stiff. His head tilts just slightly, listening. Your pulse pounds, trying to move away before he reaches you—but his hand closes around your wrist. Not brutal…yet.

“Walk with me,” he says. Not a request.

His eyes search yours as if they are hunting for truth. “You have been seen.”

Your breath remains steady. “Seen doing what?”

“With him.”

You do not pretend that you don't understand, just watching him seeth before you.

“With Neteyam.” He finishes, the name leaving his mouth like something bitter.

“We speak, sometimes…” you answer carefully.

“Do not insult me.” His grip tightens. “You are Tsakarem. You do not sneak to speak.”

You pull your wrist back slightly, “lower your voice.”

“Why?” His voice rises instead. “So you can continue to meet him in the shadows?”

conversations pause briskly, heads turn. Your tail flicks anxiously. “You forget yourself.”

“No! I remember exactly who you are. You are promised to me!”

“I am not yet mated.”

“But you will be!” His voice cracks across the sand now, drawing more attention. “And the clan already speaks of you wrapped around a forest boy!”

Your cheeks burn, not from shame, but in fury. “Do not speak of me as if I am your possession.”

His fingers dig into your arm now, hard. “You will not make me a fool before the clan.”

“Release me.”

“You will end whatever it is you have going with the forest boy.”

“I will not.”

Something shifts in his expression, hurt cuddling into pride. “You would throw away alliance for him?” he demands.

“I would choose my own future.”

The slap is not open handed, it is the shove that follows—sharp enough that you stumble backward against the wooden frame of the marui behind you, shoulder striking hard.

Gasps ripple through those close enough to see. Pain shoots up your arm.

“Do not touch her.” A sharp voice sounds from across the platform, Neteyam. He crosses the sand in seconds, anger radiating off him like heat. His golden eyes take in your posture, the mark already blooming on your arm.

“This is not your concern, forest boy.” Amak snaps.

“It became my concern when you put your hands on her.”

“I have every right—”

“You have none.” Neteyam calls out, that is all it took for Akam to lunge first, the crack of fist against jaw echoes across the reef. Neteyam stumbles back but recovers immediately, slamming into Amak’s ribs with equal force, enough to send them both crashing into the sand.

Shouts erupt as warriors rush forward—they hesitate. This is not a minor scuffle, it is territorial.

Amak swings hard, splitting Neteyam’s lip. He retaliates with a brutal strike to his cheek, knocking him sideways.

“Stop it!” You scream, rushing forward.

Someone catches your arm—aonung. His grip is firm but not cruel “Do not go between them.”

“They will kill each other!” You hiss.

Across the dais, Jake strides forward, towering, angry. Neytiri moves beside him, eyes worried, but she moves like an arrow.

Your father pushes through the formed circle of villagers, your sister watches among the crowd worriedly. “Enough!”

His roar silences the crowd. He sweeps the scene, eyes lingering on your bruised arm. “What is the meaning of this?”

Amak wrenches free just enough to point at Neteyam. “This forest boy dishonors the village!”

Your heart stops beating, the silence is loud.

“He sneaks with your daughter in darkness. The Tsakarem.” His voice rises deliberately, making sure everyone hears. At this point your mother is at the site of action. “They meet alone,” he continues, “they touch, they kiss, they hide.”

A collective murmur spreads through the crowd like wildfire, Jake’s grip on Neytiri tightens.

“Is this true?” Your mother asks, her eyes closed.

Your hands tremble. “We have not performed Tsaheylu,” you say clearly, hands hovering. “We are not mated, mother.”

Gasps fill the village. “But I would choose him,” you continue, “if I were permitted.”

Amak laughs, lacking any amusement. “She admits it before the whole clan.”

“You disappoint me, daughter.”

Jake looks between you and his son, understanding dawning with dread. Neteyam tries to step forward again. “It is my fault—”

“It is mine too,” you cut in, placing a hand on his arm.

Amak’s lip curls in disgust. “She would abandon alliance for a man who has not even bonded her.”

That stings because it’s true, you and Neteyam have not made Tsaheylu—you’re both ready, just marked with fear. There is no sacred bond to shield you, only choice and love.

Your mothers eyes draw to you, crossing the sand and gently cupping your jaw, tilting your face towards the light. Then she sees it, the swelling at your shoulder and the imprint of fingers forming at your wrists.

Her breathing changes, slow and controlled. “Who,” she asks softly, “placed this mark on my child?”

Amak straightens, still angry. “She defied-”

Tonowari takes him by the arm. “You put your hands on her?”

He struggles against your fathers firm grip. “She shamed…”

Tonowari shoves him forward harshly. “She is my daughter.” His words tear out of him.

Ronal rises to her full height now, eyes burning blue as she steps between you and the onlookers. One arm shields you instinctively as if you are still small enough to tuck behind her ribs.

“No male,” she says, voice ringing across the reef. “Will ever strike what came from my body and call it correction.”

Amak’s parents step forward nervously, but falter when your mother gives them that cold stare.

“She is promised,” Amak tries again.

“She is not yours!” Ronal snaps.

Tonowari releases him only to shove him back a tad. “If you cannot control your temper before the bond,” he says, chest heaving. “what would you do after?”

The question shifts everything. It is no longer about Neteyam, or secrecy, or embarrassment. It is about safety. Your safety. “Did he frighten you?” he asks quietly.

Ronal’s fingers brush your hair back, checking you like she did when you were a child who scraped your knee on coral.

“If he ever raises his hand to you again,” she says coldly, directed to Amak without looking away from you. “He will answer to me before Eywa”

“This discussion is finished. No union will be considered with a male who forgets he courts a daughter, not a trophy.” Your father announces.

When he looked at Neteyam. this time, it was different. Measured, evaluating a man who did not claim ownership over his daughter, did not speak for you, accepted accountability when needed, and did not hide once exposed.

The reef is quieter at dusk, never silent, but soft. You sit near the outer shallows, legs submerged to your calves, watching the current drag ribbons of light across the sand below.

You know they are coming before they speak, Aonung’s footsteps are heavier, Tsireya’s are not footsteps at all, she moves like tide foam.

Tsireya drops beside you first, bumping her shoulder into yours gently. “You look dramatic.” she announces.

You huff a soft laugh. “I am not.”

“You are,” Aonung mutters, lowering himself on your other side. “You stare like a dying ilu.”

“I do not!” You laugh.

Silence falls again, but it is not a tense silence, it is just shared. The water laps at your skin. After a moment, Tsireya rests her head against your arm. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes.”

Aonung exhales through his nose. “That is inconvenient.”

You nudge him with your knee. “Do you hate him?”

“No,” your brother replies immediately.

You blink, then he continues, staring out at the reef instead of you. “I hate that you will leave.”

“I am not leaving,” you whisper.

“You will.” He insists quietly. “If you bond. If you lead, if alliances shift, daughters always leave.”

Tsireya tilts her head. “That is not true.”

“It is sometimes true, and I do not like it.”

“I do not want to leave you,” you say honestly. “Either of you.”

Tsireya’s hand slips into yours. “You will not leave us,” she says firmly. “Even if you go somewhere else, you are still our sister.”

“We will always sit beside you.” Your brother says.

“I love you,” you say suddenly. The three of you, born of the same reef, the same parents, the same expectations.

Aonung clears his throat. “You are emotional.”

Tsireya beams. “I love you too”

your brother hesitates, then quietly, “yes, fine. I love you too.”

The sun sinks lower, and when you finally stand to return to the village, your brother walks slightly ahead, Tsireya slightly behind.

Two weeks pass, not in secrecy, not in shadows, open. You no longer slip away at eclipse, you walk beside Neteyam in daylight.

At first, villagers watch like they expect something to break, but it doesn’t. You help your mother grind herbs, Neteyam helps mend nets with young warriors. You cross paths naturally. You speak without flinching. When his hand finds yours, it is brief—appropriate, but not hidden.

There are whispers. But there is no scandal, because nothing you do is dishonorable. You have not bonded, you have not defied your parents, you have no abandoned duty, and Neteyam has not overstepped once.

Your father watches Neteyam like a stalking akula, not judging—but again, evaluating. He superintends his training, his hunting, the way he guides other, younger hunters in need of help.

As day blend to one, stretching into another turning of the tide, your name is still spoken with reverence, Tsakarem, daughter of the olo’eyktan—but now it is also spoken with something else; curiosity.

And Neteyam’s name is no longer whispered like a secret pressed into woven walls.He trains under your father’s gaze without flinching. He listens. He does not posture. When corrected, he bows his head. When praised, he does not swell. The young warriors begin to follow him naturally—not because he demands it, but because he steadies them.

That night, you sit with your mother outside your marui. The tide is low, the stars scatter across the water like crushed shells.

“you embarrassed me,” she says calmly. You brace for anger, but her voice is not sharp. “You frightened me.” She corrects.

“I did not mean to, mother. You would have let me bond with Amak,”

Her jaw tightens slightly. “I would have let you fulfill what I believed protected the clan.”

“And now?”

Her gaze drifts towards where Neteyam sits with his siblings near the shoe, laughter drifting across the dark blue.

“Now I see protection is not always found in arrangement.”

It is the closest thing to a blessing you have ever heard from her lips.

Later, Neteyam meets you by the shallow reef—not hiding, not touching too closely, just standing beside you. The distance between you feels smaller now, not because you are reckless, but because you are seen.No stolen kisses tonight. Just fingers brushing briefly before parting. And somehow, that feels stronger.

Amak keeps his distance, your father speaks to him sometimes, not cruelly, but firmly. The lesson was not about love, it was about control.

And Neteyam? He earns his place without asking for it. One evening, after a long hunt where he guides younger warriors safely through rough currents, your father approaches you quietly.

“He does not seek to possess you,” he says.

“No, papa.”

“He does not weaken you.”

“Never.”

Tonowari studies the horizon.“Then if you bond one day,” he says slowly, “it will be because you chose strength and not because you surrendered to it.”

Your throat tightens.It is not dramatic. Not ceremonial. But it is permission.

You sit cross legged between Neteyam’s thighs as he braids a new bead into your hair, one carved from reef shell—simple and unadorned. He does so in front of the water. Not hidden, or displayed.

He leans forward, placing a soft kiss on your neck. “We do this when you are ready,” he murmurs, leaning against your shoulder there. “Not when they push, and not when we are afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

He smiles softly, placing more kisses up your neck and unto your face. “Neither am I”

The reef breathes around you—you are now a woman who chose, and that changes a lot.“But Neteyam…” you murmur, leaning back slightly.

“I know that we’ve managed everything so far…” you continued, fingers fidgeting with a loose strand of hair. “But you and Aonung need to fix things. You two do not get along.”

His hand stilled mid weave, you could feel the tension that drove to his shoulders. “I can feel it every time you two are around one another.”

“What are you saying?” he leaned forward, golden eyes sharp.

“I’m saying every time you’re around him, it’s like you’re ready to fight! You can’t stand him, and I’m stuck in the middle. Every. Time.”

You spun to face him, your hair slipping from his careful fingers.

“I don’t like it either!” He snapped. “You think I want this tension? You think I enjoy being hated by him for what…Loving you?!”

“Then act like it!” you snapped, twisting slightly so your face turned toward his shoulder. “Act like you can handle it! Because I can’t keep choosing between the two people I love!”

“Turn around baby, let me finish.” He muttered as you yelled in his face.

You exhaled sharply before turning back around and allowing him to finish braiding the beads into your long black hair.

“I’m trying,” his jaw clenched, fingers knotting the last strands with controlled force. “You have no idea how it feels to see him hate me for loving you.”

“And what?—do you think it’s easy for me?!” Your hands gripped his arms, the sand beneath you shifting as you pressed closer to him. “Do you think I like watching my brother fight with the man I love?”

The tension coiled between you, his waist warm against your neck. “I feel it,” he said brusquely. “Every moment. But I won't back down from you. You’re mine and I am yours in every way that matters.”

You exhaled shakily, leaning back into him, the sand sticking to your legs. “Just… don’t make it worse,” you breathed. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“Meet me at the three brothers’ rocks tonight.” There was no secrecy in Neteyam’s tone, no smirk or challenge, just certainty.

You do not sneak from your marui. “I am walking the reef before sunrise.” Ronal studies your face for a long moment, eyes sharp, searching. Whatever she sees there makes her nod once. Tonowari watches you pass, he does not call you back—it feels like a blessing.

The tide is low when you reach the Three brothers’ The rocks stand dark against a violet sky, the water curling around their bases in soft, patient breaths.

This is where you once ran breathless in the dark, where fruit juice stained your chin, where he first said he was tired of hiding, where Aonung dragged him off of you with fury in his eyes. Where you almost lost everything.

Neteyam steps down from the peak of the middle rock when he finally sees you, neither of you rush forward. “This place used to feel so dangerous,”

“It was.” You answer, smiling.

“It doesn’t anymore.” He steps closer until only a breath holds you two apart. The wind lifts the ends of his braids.

“This is where we chose each other," you smile again.

He nods once. “Where I decided no one else could take you as theirs.” He laughs.

Your hand rises to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his soul beneath your palm. “I am not being taken, I am choosing.”

His eyes search yours carefully. Choosing. “If we do this, there is no stepping back.”

“I’m not afraid anymore.” The words settle between you two like something hallowed. You step down together into the shallow water between the rocks. Cool, tiny waves brush your ankles, the reef glows faintly beneath you.

You sit facing one another, knees touching, hands resting against thighs, breath uneven but steadying. There is no rush. Your fingers lift slowly to your kuru, his hands echo yours, there is a final moment of stillness and your foreheads touch first.

Then, gently—the tendrils squirming, longing for connection. The kurus join, the connection is not violent or overwhelming. It is grounding.

Your breath catches as his presence floods into you, warmth, steadiness, a voracious protectiveness braided with patience he had to learn, for you.

Everything paused—even the world, to witness something beautiful. Neteyam inhales sharply when the bond settles fully, his hands tightening against your thighs.

The connection deepens—not louder, not brighter. Just wider. You feel the steadiness of his heartbeat sync with yours, the rhythm aligning until it’s difficult to tell which pulse belongs to whom.

Your eyes open at the same time, his are wide, pupils dilated, exploring you. Your lips part and he takes the opportunity to have them meet his. Slow and deliberate—testing the reality of this moment.

His hands find your face, brushing your jaw and smoothing back your hair. Your head tilts as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spots there.

He smiles softly against your nape, palms running down your body—feeling, discovering the places that make you sigh.

The kiss breaks for a second, eyes searching, hands touching. He reaches for your hand, squeezing gently. “I love you.”

Your smile brightens intensely, placing soft kisses along his knuckles. “I love you.”

He pulls you close, holding you on his lap. You lay silently there, tracing constellations, sharing small jokes, and for the first time—you do not feel compromised by duty, by arrangements. you are free. and you are mated for life.

[mrssullyy]

༄ INNOCENT GIRL

aged up!tsireya x fem omatikaya!reader

synopsis: tsireya's shy and gentle nature is the most pure thing in the world, but you can't help but want to ruin it and see what will happen when she's put in not so innocent situations.

tags: MDNI, masc reader, sully sibling, lo’ak’s twin, shy girl x confident girl, wlw, fingering, pussy eating, sweet talk, dirty talk, she wants her so bad, we’re aged up but still reckless and young stage, public but no ones there, hair pulling, kissing, sexual thoughts

wc: 2.9k+

a/n: okay so fun fact this was the first thing i ever started writing, then i ditched it, then i came back to it and lowk entered flow state. PLS ENJOY

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Tsireya was by far the most beautiful girl you had ever laid eyes on, and it only took you a matter of seconds to come to this conclusion.

From the second you saw walking out the water when you first arrived, your mind had been plagued with thoughts of her bright eyes and smooth skin. The way she smiled and ducked her head when she was shy, tucking her hair behind her ears, or the way she would push you and giggle when you got too close or touched too long.

But mostly your mind had been taken over by things that hadn’t even happened, yet you wanted them too, so badly.

The way those same lips that smiled at you would feel against your own, or how her skin would taste as you kiss her up and down her body.

She was just so sweet and oblivious to the power she held over you, that every day it felt like a battle to keep yourself under control, to wait just a little bit longer before you had her how you wanted her, mouth open and breathless, tight pussy clenched around your long fingers.

But you were only a person after all. You couldn’t wait forever.

“Bro if you keep staring your eyes are gonna fall out.” Lo’ak mutters, pushing your face and breaking the gaze you had on tsireya as she played with her baby sister and tuk in the water. You only chuckle, shaking your head before turning to face him, his eyebrows already raised.

“Like your not enjoy the view.” You reply, a smirk forming on your lips as you watch him grin and shake his head. “I am,” he shrugs, “I just think if you’re gonna stare at her like you want to eat her then you should go do something about it.”

“I will,” you nod, your eyes falling back onto her as she kneels in the water, “Just want to give her a few more days of peace, cus when i get my hands on her..” you whistle lowly, the same smirk from earlier reappearing on your face. Lo’ak immediately shoves you.

“You’re so horny bro get a grip.” He grumbles, but the mischievous grin he shares with you is there, and like a disease it spreads to your face as you shift you body towards him slightly in the sand, mimicking him as you stretch your legs out infront of you and lean back on your arms.

“I can’t,” you shrug, complaining. “Like I physically cannot get a grip. I just need to get her alone for long enough bro.” At the start it was easy, everyone was hesitant to explore, so they aimed to stick together, but now, multiple months in, your family was everywhere, and you couldn’t be alone with the reef girl for more than 10 minutes before one of your siblings, or one of her friends found you and interrupted.

Lo’ak thought for a moment, leg swinging slightly as he tried to figure out a way to help you. This was you favorite part about having a twin, and despite him being the opposite gender to you, there was no barriers between you guys. This meant that topics that you 100% couldn’t discus with Neteyam or Kiri, you could always bring up with your twin, because he got you, and you got him.

“Okay,” he starts, sitting up and crossing his legs, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, instinctively causing you to do the same, as well as shuffle forward slightly. “How about this. Friday, while everyone is at the bonfire celebrating the return of the Tulkun, you take her away-” You open your mouth to interrupt, but Lo’ak only lifts his hand, a finger stopping you from whatever concern you were about to bring to surface, “You take her away, literally anywhere other than the main shore, do your thing. I stay lookout at the bonfire, make sure no one goes looking for you. You go, do what your clearly desperate to do, come back, and no one notices your disappearance. I’ll cover for you both.”

You sit there and look at him, replaying his plan through your head. Lo’ak’s plans weren’t really known for working, but the more you went over it, the more you realised that it may actually work, in fact, it had no reason not to.

“Okay…” you nod, your grin returning to your face as you interlock your hands, “….that could work!”

Lo’ak only smiled, brushing imaginary dust of his shoulders.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The rhythmic beating of loud drums filled the air around you as you laughed with Neteyam and Lo’ak, the three of you stood to the side of the gathering while people around you talked and danced.

You could see the Olo'eyktan and his family in the distance, finishing off their greetings as members of the clan came to them.

Minutes later Ao'nung and Tsireya were dismissed, and they both rushed over to you, Kiri and Roxto following when they saw everyone else in the group gathering.

"This festival is so much better than last years!" Ao'nung exclaimed, raising his voice so everyone could hear him, "we're finally allowed to drink!" Just as he said this, a group of warriors walk past with their bowls, handing a few to the oldest two of the group, Ao'nung and Neteyam.

While everyone became preoccupied with the drinks, you slipped yourself in between Tsireya and Roxto, sliding your hand into the girls' to get her attention. "Come." You leaned in and whispered, and with no argument she listened, letting herself be dragged away from the crowd and towards the homes.

You glanced over your shoulder once as you both walked away and caught Lo'ak's eye. He sent you a cheeky wink, then quickly brought the attention of your friends to him so your sneak away would be successful.

You forgot all about your twin and friends though as soon as your eyes landed back on the beautiful girl walking alongside you, her hand stein intertwined with yours.

She meets your gaze and smiles softly, cheekbones high and hair let down in elegant curls. "Where are we going?" She asks, tone soft and eyes even softer.

You're so lost in her beauty you almost forget to answer, but a tilt of her head and a squeeze of your hand snaps you back to reality and you quickly return her smile.

"We're just going for a walk, is that okay princess?" She quickly nods and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, letting you lead her away from the crowd. Whether she knows what your intentions are or not, she’s letting it happen, and a small spark of hope lights up in you.

You don’t walk in silence for long, Tsireya’s voice cutting through the sounds of waves crashing onto the shore as she talks you through her outfit. How the neck piece was handed down from her grandmother, and the arm band something she and Ao’nung has made together when the were 13 and 14.

“And this is the one you made,” she said, pointing down at her ankle, a light blush covering her cheeks. “When you first came, remember?” And how could you forget.

How could you forget the time you almost drowned trying to find the pearls and Neteyam had to come save you, or how you stayed up till the early hours of the morning to finish it as fast as possible.

How could you forget the dazzling smile she gave you when you handed it to her, the same one that’s had you hooked for months.

You looked down at her ankle, a smirk growing on your face. The anklet, despite being poorly weaved and tied, was your best work yet. Literal blood, sweat and tears put into it. It was a dark blue with light teal accents, pearls dotted through it to give it that girly touch. You had noticed it, she wore it everyday from the second she woke till the second she slept.

"It looks nice, suits you." You look up and make eye contact with her, "my colour suits you."

Her blush gets darker, and she looks away as her smile expands even further across her face.

She was so shy it physically pained you.

You took a peak at you scenery, the bonfire now very far behind you, the marui of the people a barrier in between. The part of the beach you led her to was secluded, tall palm trees hiding a clearing.

"Why are we here?" Tsireya asked, disconnecting her hand from yours so she could go lay on the sand and stargaze. The loss of contact had you following close behind her, quickly laying next to her on your side, head perched on your hand.

"No reason, I told you I just wanted to go on a walk."

"Yeah but we're not walking anymore, we're laying." She turned her head to look at you, and for the second time tonight you're at a loss of breath, her pretty face the only thing your brain can focus on.

You reach over and tuck a stand of her hair behind her ear, letting your hand stroke the side of her face. She pauses and her breath catches, but just as quickly she relaxes, placing a hand on top of yours and curling her fingers around your middle finger.

The whole sight makes you want to take her right that second, her big eyes staring into your soul, small hand a contrast against your big one.

Thank Eywa for your fathers genetics.

"What?" She whispered.

You shake your head, "nothing, just admiring." And there it is again, your favourite thing in the world, her smile joined with a faint blush on her cheeks.

Now or never.

You push off the ground with the hand that was holding your head and lean over Tsireya slightly. She moves to sit up as well, but the hand that was on her face quickly moves down to her chest to keep her down. She stays down, but she's confused. "Are you oka-"

"Can I kiss you?"

Her mouth drops and her eye's widen, "What?"

"Can I kiss you? Like, can I put my lips on yours?"

She shakes her head, then nods, both movements rapid, "no, no yeah I know what kissing is." She sits up again and this time you let her, taking your hands off of her completely as she sits on her knees and you stretch your legs out on either side of her. "Yeah... okay."

You're smiling as you lean forward, a hand already reaching out before she stops you. "Wait! Wait I don't know what to do."

You tilt your head, "you've never kissed someone before?"

"No, I have. But like," she waves her hands around, "it was like one guy, three years ago."

You laugh when she says this, poor little innocent Tsireya who's only ever kissed an immature boy. You reach out and place your hands on her waist, pulling her in and onto your lap, a thigh on either side of you. "This is going to be so much better than that baby, don't worry."

And then you're kissing her, softly placing your lips on hers as her hands go to the back of your head. One tangles through your tied up braids and the other brushes the back of your neck, grazing your shaved head from your undercut.

Her lips are everything you've ever imagined, big and soft and plump, and taste as sweet as she looks, faint traces of alcohol on her. She's slow in her movements, hesitant. But you couldn't accept that. You needed as much of her as possible as soon as you can.

Your hands grip her waist tighter and you pull her as close as physically possible, lips moving against hers with more passion. A small sound escapes her as you grind her down onto your thigh, and you immediately swallow it down, using the opportunity to slide your tongue into her mouth.

Its painfully obvious how inexperienced she is, but it just turns you on even more. The fact that no ones had her like this before, that you're the one who's going to ruin her.

The kissing went from slow and measured to wet, fast and messy, your hands sliding up her back, touching as much of her as you can, then all the way back down to squeeze her ass and grind her into you even more. Her hands are digging into your hair and pulling roughly, causing you to let out moans of your own.

You're kissing and touching and moaning and it's amazing, it's everything you've dreamed of and more. But still it's not enough, you want more of her, all of her.

You break the kiss to catch your breath, watching her do the same, then quickly push her off of you and onto the sand. Your lips reattach themselves to her neck continuing to kiss her, then sucking harshly right below her jaw when she lets out a particularly loud moan.

Your hands move frantically as your lips lower, reaching behind her and untying her ceremonial top, dashing it to the side and immediately taking off the loincloth with it, wasting zero time.

You detach from her for a few seconds, leaning up onto your knees in between her legs to admire her. Small waist, thick thighs, big tits.

You're going to cum just looking at her.

It all moves very fast after that, your lips attack her breasts, kissing, sucking, marking. She's a mess above you, gasping and moaning, her hips grinding up into you and pussy dripping.

You move quickly down her body, anxious to get to her arousal.

And when you do its like breathing air for the first time.

You start off slow, appreciating the fact its her first time, and place a small kiss right on her clit. Her breathing is a mess, her body shaking in anticipation. "Is this okay?" You ask, voice deep and your own breaths coming out short. You can feel her nodding frantically, but you click your tongue and shake your head. "Words please babygirl."

"Yes! Yes please, more."

And her wish is your command.

Your head lowers again and you stick your tongue out, licking a long stripe from her dripping hole, down the middle of her lips, up to her clit where you close your lips around it, sucking once sharply.

You glance up at Tsireya, her heads thrown back and her mouths wide open. You let out out a groan and shift, picking her legs up off the sand next to you and putting them both over your shoulders, her own hands instantly digging into your hair.

You attack her pussy this time, tongue flicking at her clit and a finger going inside her. She's tight, but she can take one finger. Her moans increase in volume as you pump your it in and out, deciding maybe too quickly to add a second since she took the first one so good.

Your mouth stays on her clit, keeping her stimulated, and you move your second finger in rhythm with your first. Her pussy's gripping your fingers, clenching and unclenching around you as you attempt to drive them in deeper. "Fuck you're so tight baby," you mumble, "taking my big fingers like a good girl." Then you twist your hand slightly and curve your fingertips, and you feel her legs shake above you.

"Oh- oh shit. Faster, faster." She moans out, pulling on your braids right at your scalp. You moan into her and speed you fingers up, and the vibrations knock through her.

Her legs begin to violently shake, her back arching off the ground and pussy grinding right into your face as she moans louder and louder, your name falling out her mouth like a prayer.

You can tell she's close and your excitement gets the best of you. In a second you've slipped a third finger in and used your other hand to pinch her clit and rub at it, attatching your mouth to her inner thigh and sucking hard.

Like a jenga tower she falls apart, thighs squeezing your head and hips bucking off the ground, her mouth open in a silent moan as she comes all over your fingers.

Your quicky to pull your fingers out and replace them with your mouth, tongue digging in deep to scoop every last drop out of her and into you.

Her whole body flops onto the sand, still twitching as you keep licking away like you might die if you let anything go to waste. It isn't until she pulls you away by the grip she still has on your hair do you get up, her legs dropping off of your shoulders.

When you're up on your knees and can clearly see all of her again, you grin widely. Your mouth and chin are glistening in her juices, and your hair has fallen out its bun and now falls messily down your back.

"Did you like that?" You ask, moving back up her body and placing your arms on the side of her head. She nods quickly, chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath. You lean down and kiss her softly, a hand coming to cup her face.

When you lean back again your brain takes a mental picture of her, her beautiful and undone she looks just from your mouth and fingers.

As you lay beside her and pull her up onto your chest, you can't help but get excited over the fact that you've done it, you've bagged Tsireya.

You can't wait to rub it in Ao'nung's face.

[tiswanye]

girls need love

lo’ak × f!reader × tsireya

SUMMARY when lo’ak forgets to give his mates the attention they deserve, they take matters into their own hands. you and tsireya are set on him learning his lesson – ignore your girls long enough, and they’ll make sure you feel it.

WARNING mdni, sub!lo’ak, switch!tsireya, switch/dom!reader, fluff, angst, hurt-comfort, miscommunication or rather complete lack of it, scheming, wlw, porn with plot, alien biology, making out, dirty talk, teasing, edging, restrains, humiliation if you squint, spit as lube, ass worship, breast and nipple play, oral sex (both giving and receiving), cunnilingus, mutual masturbation, fingering, fisting implied, 69, orgasm control, orgasm denial, overstimulation, cock slapping, double blow-job, very poor na’vi, mild use of y/n, lower case intended, possible typos and grammar/spelling mistakes.

WORDS 13k

A/N here goes my first ever fanfic! decided to set on loreya with reader. i am super nervous, but i've decided to take this little step in right direction, and share my works :). it may not be perfection, but still something that i am finally proud of. there will be possible grammar/spelling mistakes as english is not my first language. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3

lo’ak. you both missed him, so much. lately, he had been caught up in all of his duties – hunting, training, meetings – almost forgetting about his mates. or he completely forgot? you weren’t sure anymore if he remembered you existed. tsireya, even in the middle of her tsakarem training, always found some time. but lo’ak was either always too busy or too tired for anything. truthfully, you didn’t even spend any time as three anymore. no talks, hugging together to sleep, shared meals… not to even mention sex. when he comes back home, most of the times you and tsireya are asleep, and by sunrise, he is gone again.

you weren’t angry, no. you understand that, as a warrior, he had to protect the village. the people come first, of course. but you were exhausted. and it wasn’t just you; you could see it in tsireya too. the sweet, caring girl you’d grown up with and loved dearly was carrying her own weight of disappointment. so heavy that she even talked to her mother, the tsahìk, just to order lo’ak some rest. yet with him being well, she couldn’t do much.

then there was tsireya’s heat, two weeks ago. it was brutal. you were alone, again, because lo’ak went with hunting party to drive akula off from the reef. and he goes knowing well, that one of his mates will now need him more than ever. lo’ak’s absence was hard on tsireya. her body was aching, mood swinging. and she kept looking at you like she wanted him, but he wasn’t there. tsaheylu wasn’t complete without lo’ak, and tsireya needed both of her mates to feel better. you could not help her, no matter how much you tried to take care of your mate. you both had to deal with it alone, which was… painful. she was restless, and you felt guilty for not being able to fix it. you tried to distract her, tried to comfort her, and tried to meet her needs as best as you could.

it wasn’t just physical. it was the emotional absence, the longing for bond. you felt it in your chest every time you saw her trying to pretend she was okay, every time she bit her lip and whispered lo’ak’s name in the dark as you pleasured her. his absence was impossible to ignore. and you, both of you, were stuck with it.

so now, here you were.

a quiet whine echoed through marui as the tip of your tongue teasingly slipped over tsireya’s entrance. her thighs placed around your shoulders as she quivered. feeling your mate tense up, you looked up at her. tsireya’s bioluminescent freckles showed along her skin in the dim light of your woven home.

“mawey, yawntutsyìp,” you whispered, placing gentle kisses along her inner thigh.

tsireya nodded, although the motion was barely visible. she was clearly struggling to ease her breath, chest rising too quickly, as if even calming herself took more concentration than she had left. “i’m trying,” she whispered shakily, but it sounded more like a plea than reassurance.

you smirked against her and went in again, slower this time. flattening your tongue, you licked a meticulous stripe through her folds, savouring her taste. salty, yet so damn addicting. your tongue circled her clit, lazy and deliberate, before sealing your lips around it and lapping hard. without even meaning to, tsireya’s hips jerked up to meet your mouth as you sucked on her swollen bud. it made her fingers dig into the mat, like she needed something to anchor her sanity. holding her steady by the hips, you moved her closer to your mouth while your fingers sank into her soft, teal skin.

“open your legs more,” you murmured against her, voice hoarse. she obeyed instantly, almost instinctively, spreading herself for you. the faint shimmer of her glowing slick already dripping across her inner thighs. what a disguise of a good girl, you knew she could be feisty when she wanted to. you rose slightly, taking a better look at her and eywa; she looked breathtaking. her black curly locks were loose around her head, freshly unbraided. oh, how you loved her. stealing a quick kiss from her lips that tsireya tried to chase with her own, but you went back to her awaiting pussy.

you licked her as before, again focusing on the swollen nub at the top. tsireya’s bit her lip, trying to muffle all the noises she made. her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head closer as if wordlessly asking for more. and you gave her exactly that.

tightening your grip on her hips and pinning her down. you gave her one more slow, deep lick before moving onto her sweet hole.

“please, don’t tease,” tsireya whined the moment she felt your tongue slipping inside her. she slapped hand over her mouth, trying to stay quiet. yet the tiny, choked noises kept slipping out anyway.

pressing your mouth to her cunt more firmly, teasing her with shallow strokes before you obliged, finally dipping your tongue just a little deeper. her walls clenched around you, hot and welcoming and tight, as if trying to pull you deeper. you groaned into her, sucking on her hole, making her hips buck. “look at you, so wet for me already.” and you were right – tsireya was dripping already, slick coating your tongue each time you lapped. the taste of her, sharp and sweet, was settling in your mouth in a way that made you dizzy. “you taste so amazing, paskalìn.” you praised and sucked at her pussy again, this time adding a finger.

tsireya gasped and her back arched off the mat, meeting your face. without any control over her body, she rocked her hips against your mouth, trying to seek even more friction as she struggled to find a rhythm. her thighs shook around you, and you could feel her getting close.

“shh,” you murmured into her, voice low but patient. i’ve got you.” the words alone made her whimper.

“not yet, baby,” you whispered, finally pulling your mouth away. instead, you began pressing slow, tender kisses along her inner thigh, deliberately easing the stimulation just enough to let her breathe again. tsireya shuddered at the loss of your tongue, chest rising desperately as she tried to steady herself. frustration tangled in her gut, she wanted- no, needed to finally cum.

you couldn’t allow her to cum yet. not when lo’ak hadn’t seen the little show the two of you had put up for him. and then, as if summoned by the thought..

tsireya felt it, the shift. the way your attention moved, your body lifting just slightly away from her needy cunt. she blinked, dazed, trying to piece herself together, when the sound reached her ears. a soft rustle of drapes closing off the marui being pulled aside. fresh ocean air swept in, carrying salt and sunlight with it, thin rays spilling across the woven floor as lo’ak stepped inside.

you pushed yourself up onto your arms and glanced back, catching sight of your other mate finally returning. a small smirk curved your lips. without looking away from him, one of your hands slid back between tsireya’s thighs, your fingers finding her clit again. this time infuriatingly slow, painfully even.

tsireya inhaled sharply, her body reacting instantly, and hips chased your fingers. her hands moved instinctively to her chest, sliding up her own body. she cupped her tits, tugging lightly at one of her nipples, head tilting back as a low moan slipped free. this move showed off her neck, skin marked with your bruised hickeys. widening her thighs more to accommodate you, she tried to let lo’ak see exactly how ready she was.

lo’ak stopped mid-step. his gaze took in the entire scene at once: tsireya spread open, and her tanhì mixed with sweat glowing on the mat, hair loose, breath still uneven. on the other hand, there were you between tsireya’s thighs, lips damp, relaxed and confident. both of you clearly having enjoyed yourself.

tsireya looked completely spent – face flushed, trembling, chest rising fast, eyes heavy with need she had no intention of hiding. she met lo’ak’s gaze, lips parting as her breath hitched, when one of your fingers found its way in. “fuck… yes, please!” her fingers curled into the mat, as your thumb continued its unhurried, merciless motion on her clit.

taking a quick look at the mesmerising woman before you, you bit your lip. oh, you and lo’ak were damn lucky enough to call tsireya yours. finally, you glanced back at him, teeth slowly releasing your lower lip as tsireya’s was falling apart beneath your touch.

lo’ak’s jaw tightened, eyes darkening as he took in the sight before him. one of tsireya’s hands was still playing with her nipple, while other moved to caressing your leg. she met lo’ak’s gaze, lips parted as if inviting him. daring him to come closer. and he did, exactly as planned.

“fuck,” lo’ak breathed out. “my girls are so damn hot.”

he stepped closer, knees bending until he knelt beside you. one hand pulled you closer to press a soft kiss to your temple, while the other cupped tsireya’s cheek, thumb brushing over her skin.

“and your girls need some loving,” you said, eyes speaking volumes as your nose nudged at his neck, scenting him.

“ugh… if not that olo’eyktan needs me–” he groaned, trying to keep himself in check.

“lo’lo, my father can wait,” tsireya caught in, still fighting to not give in to pleasure. her face nuzzled into his palm, soft and seeking. fingers drifted from your thigh, unconsciously tracing vein lines along his arm.

“we’re more important, aren’t we?” you asked, tilting your head and brushing your lips along his ear. you licked, then nipped gently, watching his breath hitch. you smirked, knowing exactly where to hit his weakness that always made him shiver.

lo’ak groaned. “you know i can’t,” his hand briefly resting against your hip. palm lingered on tsireya’s cheek for a second longer, brushing along her jawline, before he slowly rose to his feet.

“i’m sorry,” he said, the want was clear in his tone as he looked at you. “i’ll make it up to you later.”

but before you could respond, he stepped back, smiling at you both, and then, just like that, he was gone. the marui suddenly felt larger, emptier, the faint trace of his scent still lingering in the air. you were quiet for a moment, until tsireya exhaled heavily.

“he left us, again,” tsireya mumbled saddened. you leaned in, reassuringly brushing your lips along her collarbone, while your hand traced the curve of her ribs. soft, upset smile stretched across your face as you kissed the corner of her lips.

“oh, ma’tanhì… i know,” you whispered, teeth catching lightly on her shoulder, teasing the delicate skin there. “and i might have a plan. but first, let me take care of you.”

and just as you had expected, lo’ak didn’t keep his promise. he didn’t come back this evening. from what you’d managed to piece together from tonowari earlier, the hunting party had run into trouble. the akula had been unusually restless lately, constantly returning to the reef instead of disappearing into deeper waters. they were dangerous and unpredictable, needing to be taken care of now.

now, night had settled in. you were leaning against the woven linen wall of the marui, legs stretched out. tsireya’s head rested on your thighs while your fingers gently ran through her hair, massaging her scalp, more for comfort than anything else. yours as much as hers. neither of you had said much for a while.

“i hope he’s well,” tsireya murmured at last, her voice barely above the sound of the waves outside.

you let out a quiet giggle, not because it was funny, but because it was easier than letting the worry show too clearly. “well… it’s lo’ak,” you said. “we kinda have to have hope and believe he’ll be fine.”

tsireya reciprocated your chuckle, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. clumsy, reckless lo’ak. when you and tsireya first got to know him, he seemed like a quiet and shy guy. but it turned out to be just a façade. he was hot-headed, always acting first and thinking only after the fact. that part of him hadn’t completely changed, but you had to admit, he’d grown. a lot. mating with you and ‘reya had forced him to slow down, at least a little. to think beyond himself.

“i wish he were here with us now.” your mate added, looking up at you. you kept brushing tsireya’s hair back gently.

“i know,” you said, softer now. “but… he’s needed somewhere else tonight.” the excuse tasted sour in your mouth. you weren’t sure who it was really for – tsireya, or yourself.

tsireya stiffened. “he always is,” she snapped suddenly, lifting her head just enough to look away. “he’s needed everywhere, just never here. not with us.”

the frustration in her voice was sharp, and honest. you bit down on your lip, and damn it hit, because you felt it too.

“i miss him,” tsireya added, quieter this time. and felt a painful sting in your chest. you swallowed, then rested your hand on her shoulder, grounding both of you.

“me too, tìyawn,” you whispered. and in the silence that followed, the empty space where lo’ak should have been felt heavier than the night itself.

“i’ll talk to my father,” tsireya proposed after a moment. “maybe he’ll ease up on him a bit.”

you snorted. “oh, great. and then the whole clan will start talking. the mighty warrior can’t handle real work.”

a corner of her mouth twitched, a soft giggle escaping her lips. “oh, shut up y/n!” she sat up properly and jabbed her elbow straight into your ribs, causing you to twist in pain and hiss. you sucked in a sharp breath, then laughed despite yourself.

“no, i’m serious,” you said between laughs. “that’s exactly how it’ll go. he’ll never hear the end of it.”

tsireya rolled her eyes but didn’t move away, staying close. “he’d survive.”

“barely,” you shot back, grinning.

the laugh that escaped you then was louder. freer. probably the first real one in a long time. and it caught you both off guard. you hadn’t realized how much you’ve been holding to yourself until that moment. for a brief moment, the worry loosened its grip, and it almost felt normal again.

“probably,” tsireya said with a small nod. “but at least we’ll get him back.”

she pulled one knee up to her chest, arms wrapping around it as her fingers absently tracing patterns against her skin. “i know he’s trying to prove himself,” she went on. “especially after his dad and neteyam… and i am proud of him. i really am.” her voice softened. “he’s grown so much. he listens more. he thinks more. sometimes i don’t even recognize him.” she hesitated, breath catching just a little. “but…”

it was typical tsireya, only seeing good in people. “yeah,” you replied quietly, before she even had to finish. you shifted slightly, leaning on wooded pillar that supported your marui. “he is doing well,” you let out a short, amused laugh. “almost too well. apparently, some girls even tried to hit on him.”

tsireya let out an incredulous scoff, looking over at you. “seriously?”

“seriously,” you nodded. “one of them actually asked if he was already mated. like she didn’t already know.”

that earned a soft laugh from tsireya, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. you noticed the way her shoulders relaxed anyway, just a little, as if the humor helped take the edge off the worry. you glanced over at her then, and really looked at her. the familiar curve of her mouth, the way her lashes cast shadows against her cheeks, the calm strength she carried even when she was frustrated or scared. it grounded you in a way nothing else really did.

“well,” tsireya said at last, lips curling into a crooked smile, “it sucks for them. he’s ours. oh, he’d be so full of himself if he heard that.”

“he already is,” you said. “sometimes.” lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug, lips quirking. tsireya turned her head toward you slowly, eyes narrowing as she studied your face. it was the kind of look that said keep talking and see what happens. you held it for a second, then cracked first, your smile giving you away.

“he’s quite a catch,” you giggled, tilting your head and bumped your shoulder against tsireya’s. “and you’re quite a catch, too.”

“oh, don’t start!” she exclaimed, quickly covering her mouth. like she just realized how loud she’s been. it was late, too late for any noise and you did not want to wake up anyone.

you chuckled under your breath. “relax, no one heard.”

tsireya didn’t answer right away. instead, her eyes lingered on you, softer now, searching your face like she was trying to decide if you were joking or not. and tsireya knew you weren’t, but sometimes she needed extra convincing. all this time, and you still didn’t get how she could doubt herself. this stunning woman – somehow yours and lo’ak’s, by eywa’s grace – was beautiful in every way that mattered. both inside and out. in the low light, you noticed the faint warmth creeping into her cheeks at your poor attempt of flirt. it made your heart skip a beat, the same as in the beginning of your relationship.

“you’re impossible,” tsireya murmured, smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“no,” you said, quieter now. “i’m serious.” your voice surprised even you. it came out husky. tsireya’s gaze flicked down to your mouth for half a second before she caught herself, and that was all it took to undo whatever restraint you’d had left.

your eyes dropped to her lips. you bit back your smile, fully aware of how close she was. eywa, you felt as in the beginning if everything. when every touch, gesture, kiss was with utmost carefulness and shy. you remember being fourteen, when sullies arrived at the reef seeking uturu. and the moment lo’ak caught your and tsireya’s eye. it was just meant to be. but now, someone was missing. and fuck, you were so worried for him. it was late, and he was still gone.

giving in, you leaned in slowly and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. nothing rushed or demanding. as you pulled back, your forehead hovered close to hers. “for the record,” you whispered, “i meant every word.”

tsireya let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head as she bumped her forehead lightly against yours. “you’re going to get us in trouble one day.”

“worth it,” you said, smiling.

she didn’t argue. “you sound like lo’lo.”

“ouch!” you nuzzled your face into tsireya’s sternum, scrunching your nose as her beaded top pressed painfully against your forehead. the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. you loved those quiet moments.

tsireya shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips, and untied the strings of her top. bare skin met your eyes, and a chill ran through your body. ’reya could feel your hungry gaze, making her heart skip a beat, when she remembered. just a few hours ago, when you were looking at her like that, you made tsireya see stars. she felt a small thrill at the trust and closeness between you, the way you always melted into her without hesitation, like you belonged there. and you did. you, and lo’ak.

you smirked, lips kissing just above her heart. “my, my… someone didn’t get enough today,” you teased.

“oh, i can reassure you, i’m pleased,” she flirted back, a sparkle in her eye. you looked at her, and tsireya became quiet for a moment. she saw how you looked at her with all the love in the world.

you shivered slightly, remembering too well just how intense she had been earlier. “if only lo’ak could see, no! hear… or both? how loud you were when you came on my tongue…” you trailed off, feeling yourself flush at the recollection.

tsireya caught the look on your face and laughed, pulling you closer, hugging you against her chest. “ugh, come on!” her arms wrapped around you. warmth enveloped you, steadying your racing thoughts. the way you leaned into her made her chest swell. there was a sweetness here, and tsireya felt trusted, loved, and alive all at once.

then her expression shifted as she suddenly remembered something. “wait!”

“hmm?” you murmured, your voice thick with drowsiness, as your body sank completely into hers almost instinctively. the comfort of her arms, the rhythm of her breathing, it was hypnotic.

“what was the plan you had in mind?” she asked, curiosity getting ahead of her. she loved seeing that spark in you, the schemer who always had something up your sleeve.

“what?” you muttered, blinking slowly, confusion mixing with the haze of comfort and heat. then, as if realization finally struck, your eyes lit up. “right…”

you pushed yourself up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, your gaze locking on hers. “you’re gonna like it,” you said, a devilish grin spreading across your lips.

tsireya’s pulse quickened at the intensity in your eyes, the promise hidden in that smile. she shifted slightly to meet your gaze fully, anticipation bubbling through her. she could see your mind turning, plotting something playful, teasing, maybe even a little daring. and she loved it.

for a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the tension wrapping tightly around you both. and then you started speaking.

at first, your voice still thick with sleep as you explained every little detail of your plan. but the more you talked, the more animated you became, hands moving as if you could already see it all playing out.

you told her how you were finally going to make lo’ak take care of his girls. properly this time. not with promises whispered in passing. not with apologies offered only after he’d already chosen duty over them again. you laid it out piece by piece, methodical in a way that surprised even yourself.

tsireya listened closely, chin resting in her palm, endearing eyes never leaving your face. from her perspective, it was almost funny – how focused you looked, how serious your tone had become over something that clearly came from love more than frustration. she could see it now: this wasn’t about controlling lo’ak or punishing him. it was about anchoring him. teaching him that being strong didn’t only mean fighting or providing – it meant staying.

she felt a warmth spread through her chest as you spoke. you cared so deeply. about her. about lo’ak. about them.

“and he won’t even realize what’s happening until it’s too late,” you added with a small, satisfied smile.

tsireya huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. she reached out, fingers brushing your arm, grounding you. eywa, she loved this part of you – the sharp mind beneath the softness, the way you could be both nurturing and cunning without ever crossing into cruelty.

“you’re dangerous,” she murmured, half-teasing, half-admiring.

you glanced up at her, eyes bright. “only when necessary.”

her gaze softened then, pride slipping into something gentler. if lo’ak had any idea how much thought you put into loving him, into holding this little family together. and for the first time that night, tsireya felt certain.

whatever you were planning, it was going to work.

it was still dark when you felt the sleeping mat beside you shift. your eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep, struggling to adjust to the dimness of the marui. a familiar silhouette moved carefully, trying not to make noise. lo’ak.

“lo’ak,” you whispered, causing him to startle violently, spinning around as his hand flew to his chest. even half-awake, you could see the way his shoulders tensed before he realized it was just you.

“eywa, paskalìn,” he muttered under his breath, lowering his voice. “you scared the shit outta me.”

tsireya slept soundly beside you, her face tucked against your braids, her breathing slow and even. she didn’t stir, not yet.

“are you alright?” you asked quietly. “you came back late, as i see.”

“yeah,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “akula’ve been a pain in the ass lately. they keep coming back.”

you nodded once. “good. you took care of them.” then, softer but firmer, “now come to us.”

the words landed heavier than you’d meant them to. lo’ak stiffened instantly. you saw it. the way his jaw clenched, the way he swore under his breath like he’d already lost an argument he didn’t want to have. instead of moving closer, he turned away, gathering a few things. his raspu’ was still strapped around his legs, gear half-off, half-on, like he hadn’t even planned on stopping for long. your brows furrowed.

“i want to,” he said finally, not looking at you. “but i really gotta go.”

“lo’lo,” you said quietly, but there was an edge there now. “tsireya misses you. i miss you.”

“i know,” he replied too quickly. “but the akula-”

“no,” you cut in, sharper than intended. your voice rose just enough to snap through the quiet. “no, lo’ak. enough with this bullshit.”

that did it. tsireya shifted, stirring as she woke. “lo’ak?” she murmured, blinking sleep from her eyes.

he turned immediately, his expression softening the moment he saw her. “hey, yawne,” he said gently, offering a small smile.

you shot him a warning look. “lo’ak, don’t you dare.”

he hesitated. just for a second. it was almost imperceptible, but you caught it.

“i gotta go,” he said anyway.

“lo’lo…” tsireya pushed herself up on one elbow, confusion and hurt slowly settling into her expression as she looked between the two of you. and you realized, with a tight twist in your chest, that this was exactly what you’d been talking about earlier. it wasn’t danger, nor duty. but he was leaving, again, when he was needed here.

“i gotta go,” lo’ak repeated, quieter this time.

tsireya’s brows knit together as she fully sat up, pulling the mat closer around herself. sleep still clung to her, but the hurt crept in fast, unmistakable. “you just got back,” she said. “you haven’t even sat down.”

lo’ak exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “i know. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“that’s not the point,” you cut in, sitting up now too. your voice was steady, but tight. “you always say that. you come back, barely exist, and then you’re gone again.”

he turned toward you, frustration flashing across his face. “you think i want this?”

“no,” you said immediately. “i think you think you have to do this. and that’s the problem.”

tsireya glanced between the two of you, her jaw tightening. “lo’ak,” she said softly, but there was steel underneath it. “look at us.”

lo’ak hesitated. “i can’t stay,” he then replied. “not now.”

“you never can,” you said, pushing yourself upright. sleep was gone, replaced by something tighter, meaner. “every time you walk in here, it’s like you’re already halfway out.”

he spun back toward you. “that’s not fair.”

“no,” you shot back. “what’s not fair is us lying here night after night wondering if you’re dead.”

tsireya flinched. “don’t,” she warned quietly, but she didn’t stop you. she gestured between you. “we wait, every time. we worry. we lie here wondering if tonight’s the night something goes wrong.” her voice wavered just slightly. “and when you finally come back, you don’t stay.”

“that’s not fair.” lo’ak shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“no,” you shot back. “what’s not fair is us lying here night after night wondering if you’re dead.”

lo’ak’s jaw clenched. “i’m doing what i have to do.”

“for who?” you demanded. “because it’s clearly not for us.”

he laughed once, sharp and humorless. “you think i don’t care?”

“i think you care more about being needed out there than being wanted in here,” you said.

tsireya inhaled shakily. “lo’ak,” she said, voice trembling despite herself. “i miss you. we both do. you don’t even touch us anymore, don’t spend any moment with us.. you come home smelling like blood and salt and then you leave again like we don’t exist.”

“i don’t have time for this,” he snapped.

you stared at him. “there it is.”

his eyes flashed. “you want me to do what? sit around while the clan’s in danger?”

“no,” you said. “we want you to choose us at least once.”

lo’ak swallowed, and you could swear his voice broke a little. “i’m trying to keep everyone safe.”

“and who keeps us safe?” tsireya asked. not accusing, just honest.

he looked down at the ground, toes digging into the mat. “i’m doing what’s expected of me.”

tsireya shifted closer to you, her shoulder brushing yours. “you don’t have to prove anything to us, we love you just the way you are. we see you, lo’ak.”

“i’m not doing this for you,” lo’ak snapped, then immediately regretted it. “i mean… i didn’t mean it like that.”

“i know,” tsireya said. “that’s the issue, you’re not doing anything for us. not anymore.”

another pause, longer this time. tsireya reached out, taking his hand before he could pull away. “we’re not asking you to stop being who you are,” she said. “we’re asking you to come back home when you say you will. and spend some time with us.”

“i’m sorry,” lo’ak said, squeezing briefly tsireya’s palm and looking over at you. “it’s not up to me.”

silence crashed down between you. tsireya pulled her hand away, and her fingers curled into the mat. “if you walk out now,” she said quietly, “don’t pretend you don’t know what you’re doing.”

lo’ak hesitated, just long enough to make it worse. “i can’t,” he said finally.

“then go,” you whispered, voice breaking despite yourself. “but stop promising things you won’t keep.”

his throat bobbed. he looked at tsireya, then at you – like he wanted to say something else, like he might apologize, or explain. instead, he turned away. the beads that were braided in his hair, brushed his shoulders as he stepped out into the dark.

the marui fell silent. tsireya stared at the entrance long after he was gone, jaw tight, eyes glassy. you didn’t move. you just sat there, the empty space beside you screaming louder than any argument ever could.

next morning came quietly, waking you up. the light filtering through the marui felt too soft for how heavy your chest was. soft light slipped through the woven gaps of the marui, brushing over your face, warming skin that still felt tight from the night before. for a few seconds after waking, you didn’t remember why your chest felt so heavy. then it hit you.

lo’ak’s back as he left. the sound of his hair beads crackling. none of you had said goodbye. you laid still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, replaying the night over and over again. the way lo’ak had looked at you right before he turned away. every sharp word you’d thrown at him echoed louder in your head now. less justified. less righteous. anger had made it feel necessary. morning stripped it down to what it really was. fear, frustration, and exhaustion tangled together and aimed poorly.

tsireya shifted beside you, waking up too. you could tell by the way she exhaled slowly. she just lay there, awake, breathing evenly like she was giving herself time to think before speaking. you recognized that silence. she always did that when she was trying not to react on instinct.

“i think…” tsireya started, then stopped. “i keep thinking about his face,” she said eventually, voice low. “right before he left.”

“so do i,” you turned your head toward he, throat tightening. she was already looking at you.

tsireya turned onto her side, propping her head on her arm. her eyes were tired, rimmed with something close to guilt. “we were too harsh on lo’ak,” she said quietly. not defensive or apologetic. just honest. “we… unloaded everything at once. it should’ve been different.”

you swallowed. the anger from the night before had burned itself out, leaving something dull and aching behind. “yeah,” you admitted. “we let all of it pile up, and then it just… came out wrong.”

tsireya nodded, rubbing at her face tiredly. “he didn’t deserve that. not like that.”

“no,” you agreed. “and now lo’ak probably thinks, that he failed us.”

you tried your hardest, to not excuse your behaviour. emotions were real, but the fight? unnecessary. there was a brief silence between you – not awkward, just heavy with shared guilt and concern. “what now?” you asked at last, sitting up as well. “he won’t listen either way”

tsireya straightened a little, resolve slowly replacing the regret in her expression. “so,” she said, “we do it your way. we stick to the plan.”

you looked at her, the familiar spark slowly returning despite the regret. the one she’d seen last night. the one that meant you were already thinking three steps ahead. “according to the plan.” you agreed with her.

a faint, knowing smile tugged at her lips. she stood up, stretching stiff limbs, resolve settling in where anger had been before. “no more ambushing him. no more fighting in the dark. if lo’ak won’t slow down on his own…” tsireya paused, glancing back at her. “then we make him.”

you sat up, determination settling in where frustration had been the night before. whatever had to be said, whatever had to be done, you weren’t going to let things stay like this. not with him. not with the three of you. you rose to your feet beside tsireya, who was rolling her shoulders like she was bracing herself. whatever guilt lingered in her eyes was replaced by determination, mixed with care.

“he’s not getting out of this,” tsireya stated.

“no, he really isn’t.” you agreed. lo’ak might have left angry, and you might’ve said too much. but you weren’t done yet.

the siren call of the returning hunting party echoed through the village, long and unmistakable.

you and tsireya froze for half a heartbeat before exchanging a look. your hands were still tangled in tuk’s hair, halfway through a braid that was already heavy with shells and beads. tuk sat between you, cross-legged and fidgeting, clearly proud of the progress so far.

“that’s them,” tsireya murmured, almost to herself.

“hey!” she protested as you both started shifting. “you’re not done yet!”

“we know, we know,” tsireya said quickly, already rising to her feet. “we’re sorry, ma’hì’i ‘aw. (little one)”

you laughed softly, smoothing tuk’s hair apologetically. adjusting the last loose strand back behind tuk’s ear, trying to be gentle even as your attention drifted. “there’s just a few more are left. we’ll finish them later, okay? we promise.”

tuk crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. “you sure?”

“yes, tuktuk,” you said, though your eyes were already drifting toward the sound, your chest tightening with anticipation.

you’d always been fond of lo’ak’s little sister. there was something about her, she was loud, fearless, stubborn in the best way. all that made it impossible not to love her. sitting there braiding her hair, you’d caught yourself thinking, not for the first time, about the future. about hoping quietly, that eywa might one day bless the three of you with a little one of your own. the thought lingered just long enough to ache.

then the horns sounded again, closer this time. you and tsireya stood fully now, hands brushing as you turned toward the beach. tuk huffed dramatically behind you, still grumbling about unfinished shells and uneven braids as you both murmured hurried apologies over your shoulders.

“i want the blue ones next!” she called after you.

“we heard you!” tsireya replied, already breaking into a faster walk.

the village stirred around you as others moved toward the shore, voices rising, footsteps quickening. and with every step closer to the beach, your pulse picked up – hope, worry, and unfinished words all tangling together as you searched the horizon for one familiar figure.

you spotted the tsuraks first, sleek shapes cutting through the water as they swam toward the reef. at the front rode neytral, unmistakable even from a distance. he was the commander of the hunting party, posture straight and confident as his skimwing surged ahead of the others. oh, you remembered how angry lo’ak – and honestly speaking, you – was, when he asked to court tsireya.

the village gathered closer to the shoreline as the hunters dismounted one by one, water splashing around their legs. neytral swung off his skimwing with practiced ease and made his way toward tonowari, who stood waiting at the edge of the beach.

“olo’eyktan,” neytral said, placing a hand to his forehead in respect before straightening. “the akula have been troublesome.” his voice carried clearly over the water. “but we finally managed to drive them back into the deep waters. they have not returned.”

there was a brief pause, just long enough for the words to sink in. then the metkayina erupted. cheers rang out across the beach, voices overlapping as relief and pride spilled free. some clapped each other on the shoulders, others raised their weapons or fists into the air. the tension that had lingered in the village for days seemed to lift all at once.

tonowari stepped forward, a broad grin spreading across his face. he raised his fist high. “good!” he called out, his voice strong and commanding. “today, we celebrate!”

the cheering grew louder, rolling like a wave through the crowd. beside you, tsireya let out a breath you hadn’t realized she’d been holding. the village buzzed with excitement, already shifting toward preparations, laughter and movement everywhere. yet even as the celebration began, your eyes scanned the returning hunters instinctively. searching for one familiar figure among them.

neytral approached you and tsireya as the crowd slowly began to disperse, voices still loud with celebration. he greeted you both with a nod, his expression calm but thoughtful.

“it was lo’ak’s doing, he gave us an idea on what to do,” he said quietly, lowering his voice so only the two of you could hear. “you should be proud.”

instantly, your chest filled with pride. your mate was finally getting all the recognition he deserved.

“although,” neytral continued, hesitating, “something’s bothering him. he hasn’t been in the humor since last night.”

the words stung harder than they should have. you felt it immediately, that sharp drop in your stomach, like missing a step you thought was there. you swore under your breath, barely audible, and tsireya stiffened beside you. right. the guilt drowned you all at once. you thought of the argument. the way lo’ak had stood there, already exhausted, already worn thin, and how neither of you had let up. how he’d walked away without looking back.

tsireya’s jaw tightened. “thank you, neytral,” she said, managing a polite nod. “we are.”

he gave you both a final look, something unreadable, almost knowing, before turning back toward the others. as soon as he was gone, the celebration felt distant, muted. the cheers blurred into background noise as your eyes drifted back toward the hunters, searching again. this time not with worry, but with something closer to regret.

you’d wanted him to come back. he had. and now the weight of how he’d been greeted pressed down on you both, heavier than the noise of the village, heavier than the victory itself.

finally, you saw him, standing in the shallow water near the beach. lo’ak.

lo’ak looked tired. exhausted. his chest was red from the sun, shoulders slumped, and his movements were slower than usual. he didn’t immediately look for you like he normally would. no scanning the crowd, no calling out your names. just quiet, deliberate steps as he dismounted his tsurak.

“’reya, look,” you murmured softly, tugging tsireya’s hand. her eyes followed your gaze, and then she saw him too. she froze for a second, just taking him in. sunburned, exhausted, but here. after everything, he was actually here. her jaw tightened for a second, a flicker of worry passing over her features. she knew he was tired, yes. but something else lingered in the set of his shoulders, the way his head hung slightly forward. lo’ak was carrying more than exhaustion.

without hesitation, she grabbed your hand, tugging you gently but firmly in his direction. your heart hammering, you stumbled a little over your own feet but didn’t care.

“lo’ak!” tsireya called, her voice ringing over the talking villagers.

at the sound of her voice, lo’ak looked up. his eyes scanned until they found you and tsireya. relief flashed across his face, subtle but there, and it made your chest tighten. but there was still that tension there, the residue of last night. he’d hoped that the anger had faded, that you’d forgiven him, but he could see the shadow of it in your eyes. and part of him wondered if he deserved that forgiveness yet.

you didn’t want to waste another second. you ran the last few steps and threw your arms around him. he hesitated for a fraction of a second, then wrapped his arms around you and tsireya, pulling you both close. the warmth of him, the solid weight, the tension from last night. all of it melted into that hug.

you breathed in, smelling the salt and sweat, feeling how stiff he still was from the hunt. you couldn’t believe how much you’d missed him. you’d missed having him here, you’d missed the three of you together. like this, whole.

lo’ak hissed softly, shifting as tsireya’s necklace brushed against the burn on his chest. he didn’t pull away. not from you, not from her. he let the discomfort be there, let the three of you stay connected despite everything. inside, lo’ak felt a rush of relief and guilt all at once. he’d left. he’d walked away. he hadn’t listened properly last night, hadn’t let you both have him fully. and yet here you were, still letting him in. still wanting him. lo’ak closed his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the weight of you both against him, pressing that truth into himself: he couldn’t lose this again.

“lo’lo, i’m sorry,” you whispered, voice low. “i didn’t mean what i said last night.”

lo’ak let out a quiet breath, resting his head slightly against yours, and tsireya pressed closer, snuggling against his chest. “it all came out wrong,” she added softly.

he tightened his hold, hiding some of the ache in his chest from the sun and from the argument. “i know,” he muttered, almost inaudible, but enough for you to hear. lo’ak closed his eyes for a moment, just holding onto you both. and as much as his chest burned, as much as the sun and the hunt had left him ragged, he didn’t want to move. he needed this.

you felt him relax slowly against you, the tension easing, the exhaustion still there but shared now. for the first time since the argument, you weren’t angry. you weren’t frustrated. you were just… together. standing in shallow water, tired, sunburned, messy, and utterly relieved. it wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. for now, that was all that mattered.

you and tsireya sat on a wooden log near the fire, warm sand beneath your feet, cups in your hands. the night air carried laughter, music, and the crackle of flames. you were talking about nothing important – half-finished stories, teasing comments, inside jokes that made you both giggle for no real reason.

tuk was running around the beach, showing off her new hairstyle to everyone that paid her even the slightest attention. she really tired you out about those braids. carefully checking of you attached the shells correctly, and constantly changing her idea about their placement, because they had to looked perfect. but as you and tsireya promised, you did. and if she was happy with the results, then so were you.

a few lengths away, lo’ak was with the other warriors, crouched in the sand, playing mumblety-peg. you could hear their laughter, the thud of the knife hitting the palm tree, the occasional groan when someone messed up. but this time, it didn’t bother you.

earlier, lo’ak’d stayed close. he’d checked in constantly, leaning over to hear what you and tsireya were saying, interrupting just to add a comment or steal a sip of your drink. he’d danced with you both, clumsy and grinning, and brought back food like it was his personal mission to keep you fed. and when neytral and ao’nung had finally dragged him back toward the game, he’d hesitated. those stupid, soft puppy eyes, asking silently if it was okay. tsireya’d waved him off, smiling.

now you watched him laugh with the others, relaxed in a way he hadn’t been in days. every so often, his eyes flicked back toward you and tsireya, checking in without even realizing he was doing it.

tsireya followed your gaze, then looked back at you, her expression soft. “i’m happy,” she murmured. the words were simple, but they settled deep. And for the first time in a while, you realized you were too.

“i am too, yawntu,” you whispered back, turning toward her with a soft smile. you leaned in and pressed a quick, careless kiss to her shoulder.

tsireya sucked in a quiet breath. you noticed immediately. the way her skin prickled, goosebumps rising where your lips had been. you bit down on your lip, trying – and failing – not to look pleased with yourself.

“what about our plan?” tsireya asked casually, eyes still on her.

she hummed, rolling one shoulder as if thinking it through. “hmm. do you not think we should let him be?”

you tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “what do you think?”

tsireya shrugged lightly, fingers brushing at her arm. “well… it wouldn’t hurt if he actually learned his lesson.”

you let out a soft laugh. “didn’t he already?” you teased, glancing toward lo’ak. he was laughing now, relaxed, completely unaware he was being discussed.

she followed your gaze, then looked back at you, a smug little smile pulling at her lips. “maybe,” she said. “but i think it’d be better if he remembered it for a long time.”

her eyes flicked up to meet yours, mischievous and knowing. and you grinned. yeah. the plan wasn’t over yet.

“so what are we waiting for?” you giggled, the sound low and clearly not innocent as you pushed yourself up from the log. sand clung to your palms as you brushed them off, then you turned to tsireya and extended your arm toward her in an exaggerated, almost mocking offering, like you were inviting her to something far more dramatic than it actually was.

her eyes lit up immediately. tsireya took your hand without hesitation. “after you,” she said, already amused.

together, you made your way toward the group of warriors clustered around the firelight, laughter and shouted insults filling the air. knives struck the sand rhythmically as the mumblety-peg game continued, cheers and occasional groans erupting whenever someone barely missed their toes.

lo’ak was crouched near the center, fully focused, knife balanced between his fingers. his shoulder were relaxed, laughter coming easy. that is until he sensed you.

“mind if we steal our mighty warrior?” you hummed sweetly as you and tsireya dropped down beside him, knees sinking into the sand.

tsireya didn’t waste a second. her hand slid up lo’ak’s back, fingers pressing lightly between his shoulder blades in a way that made him stiff instantly.

the reaction from the group was immediate. whistles broke out, someone hooted. another warrior slapped his hands in amusement. lo’ak’s ears flushed a deep purple. “girls, come on,” he muttered sheepishly, trying to sound serious. “you’re embarrassing me.”

ao’nung leaned back on his hands, watching the scene with open amusement. “sister?” he drawled, clearly catching on.

tsireya didn’t even bothered to look at him. “come on, lo’lo,” she said warmly, smiling down at lo’ak. her smile was soft, but definitely not negotiable. “we’ll be quick, it’s just a moment.”

tsireya grabbed lo’ak’s wrist and stood, tugging him up with her. he let himself be pulled to his feet, shaking his head as he glanced back at the warriors still watching and laughing. lo’ak hesitated for a moment, jaw tightening as more warriors shared a laughter at him as three of you were walking away. someone nudged another warrior, someone else leaned in to get a better look. lo’ak glanced between the two of you, already doomed. his shoulders slumped in defeat as more snickering rose behind him.

“wow,” one of the warriors muttered. “man didn’t even fight it.”

“well, he definitely won’t last long,” a young warrior chimed in, he must’ve recently pass his rite of passage.

neytral chuckled. “can you blame him, though? i wouldn’t either if i had two pretty girls coming for me like that.”

ao’nung immediately reached out and smacked the back of neytral’s head. “watch your mouth.”

“bro got lucky,” a third voice chimed in, shaking his head.

“shut up, rill-breathers!” lo’ak snapped, turning around to shot annoyed glare at them, though his grin betrayed him completely.

you and tsireya burst out laughing, unable to help yourselves.

tsireya tugged at lo’ak’s wrist, standing up and pulling him along. “ignore them,” she said lightly. “they’re just jealous.”

lo’ak shook his head, laughing under his breath as he let himself be dragged away, muttering, “i swear, you two are gonna be the death of me.”

you glanced back once more at the group, still loud and teasing. then turned your attention fully to lo’ak. flushed, smiling, completely undone. yeah. the plan was working just fine.

when you finally lost sight of the village, the noise fading behind layers of rock and distance, lo’ak slowed to a stop. the firelight was gone now, replaced by naranawm and the quiet rush of waves against stone. tall, jagged rocks rose around you, shielding the beach from view. he looked at you first, then at tsireya.

“okay,” he said, squinting slightly. “where are we going?”

tsireya didn’t answer right away. she stepped closer to you instead, her shoulder brushing yours, eyes flicking over to meet yours. you didn’t need to say anything, you were both thinking the same thing. the two of you shared the same knowing smile, the kind that instantly made lo’ak suspicious.

“since you did so well with the akula,” tsireya said, voice clearly mischievous, “we thought you deserved a little surprise.”

lo’ak’s brows lifted. “a surprise,” he repeated slowly.

you nodded, clearly pleased with yourselves.

“well,” he said after a moment, glancing around, “we could just go back to the marui.”

tsireya scoffed quietly, and you laughed. “that wouldn’t be any fun,” you said, shaking your head.

you stepped ahead a few paces and gestured toward the shoreline. “there,” you added.

lo’ak followed your gaze. the beach stretched out in front of you, quiet and empty, tucked neatly between the rocks. a few palm trees dotted the sand, their leaves rustling softly in the night breeze. the village was still a walk away, far enough that no one could stumble across you by accident. he looked back at you both, something between curiosity and anticipation flickering across his face.

“you two are being weird,” lo’ak said, though there was a smile tugging at his mouth.

you and tsireya just exchanged another glance. exactly how you wanted it. “just trust us,” tsireya said to lo’ak, and somehow he did.

you nudged lo’ak back toward one of the palm trees, not hard, but just enough that he stumbled a step and laughed when his back hit the trunk.

“hey!” he started, but you were already there and you didn’t let him finish.

you caught one of his braids and tugged lightly, just enough to steal his attention. the laugh died in his throat when you leaned in close, your presence suddenly all he could focus on. instead of anything dramatic, you pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. soft, almost innocent, lingering just long enough to make him blink. confused, his lips parted expectantly.

then you took his mouth properly. kiss turned deep fast, unhurried but sure, your lips fitting to his like muscle memory. his breath stuttered when your tongue met his, instinct taking over as he kissed you back before he even realized he’d leaned forward. the tree pressed against his back, grounding him as his hands twitched, unsure where to land.

tsireya watched for a second, amused, arms crossed as she took in the way his body instinctively leaned towards yours. then she stepped in too, closing the space from the other side. her fingers brushed along his shoulder as she leaned up toward him. tsireya’s lips followed the line of his neck, kissing upward before she sucked gently at his earlobe, just enough to draw a sharp inhale from him.

on the sly, you took lo’ak’s hand and guided it behind the tree. tsireya caught on instantly, pressing his other palm beside it, pinning both hands there with her own. she quickly tied them together, making sure he won’t be able to break free. pleased, she pulled you away from him and herself broke into your lips, claiming your mouth in a heated kiss of her own. right before his face, causing him to curse quietly.

lo’ak swallowed hard. suddenly very aware of the two of you: the weight of your bodies, the way you moved with quiet coordination. and the fact there was nowhere for him to escape to. not that he wanted to actually do that. and neither of you had any intention of letting him.

“you planned this,” he muttered, though there was no real complaint in it.

you grinned. tsireya smiled making it known that she’d already won. “maybe,” she said voice soft but teasing.

lo’ak tugged at the ropes gently, testing its hold, but it did nothing. he huffed, frustration flickering in his eyes.

you giggled, a light, playful sound that made his chest tighten. “you were a very bad boy, you know that?” you teased, letting your hand slide over his chest to brush against his nipple. his breath hitched sharply at the touch. back gently arched into your touch, almost unnoticeable.

“y/n, paskalìn…” he exhaled, his voice rough, then trailed off, pleading eyes darting to tsireya. “‘reya? fuck, what are you doing?”

she shook her head slowly, teeth grazing over his jawline as she spoke, “nu-uh, lo’ak,” she murmured. “you deserve this.” her fingers pressing just enough into his chest to make him flinch, tracing playful lines down his torso.

your smile grew, in a wicked curve. “look what happens when you ignore your girls,” you said, stepping back just slightly, letting the weight of your words land. your eyes met tsireya’s, softening in that small, endearing way reserved only for her and lo’ak.

then you pulled her into your arms, pressing your lips to hers. the kiss started gentle, intimate. slow and teasing. but quickly deepened as you grew more urgent, tongues sliding together with hunger. tsireya’s soft moan slipped past her lips, breathy at first, then louder, carrying need that made lo’ak swallow audibly, still bound but fully aware of the two of you.

tsireya’s hands slid along your sides, her fingers tracing along your back as she tilted her head into the kiss, letting it intensify. you responded in kind, lips and tongue moving, teasing and claiming at once, both of you completely caught up in the sensation. lo’ak’s chest rose and fell faster, eyes flicking between you two, helpless and yet entirely captivated. the perfect mixture of frustration, desire, and admiration.

then your kiss broke, in a need for air. tsireya turned toward lo’ak, though she didn’t step closer. “you didn’t pay attention to your girls, huh?” she said, voice low and teasing. “so now… you’re gonna watch.” she moved behind you, fingers deft as she began to untie your top, letting lo’ak catch a glimpse of your chest. light of giant naranawm glinted off your skin, accentuating the glow of your bioluminescent tanhì. lo’ak’s breath hitched, eyes darkening with desire as tsireya cupped your breasts, teasing, squeezing gently. her touch was confident, a clear message of control. "this is how we had to touch each other, imagining it was you. because you neglected us. and what you’ve been missing out on.”

“oh, stop,” lo’ak rolled his eyes.

“so, if we decide you were attentive enough,” tsireya murmured, her fingers rolling and caressing, “we’ll consider letting you cum. understood?”

lo’ak swallowed hard, pulse jumping. but he nodded eagerly. every inch of him was aware of the two of you. the way tsireya’s hands were moulded to your breasts, and the soft sounds you made under her touch. your back arched slightly into her hands, hips tilting subtly, letting him see everything. the way tsireya guided you, and the teasing glances at lo’ak made him shiver, powerless, caught between restraint and desire.

tsireya’s fingers played expertly, rolling, pressing and flicking over your nipples. every movement designed to make him watch and ache. her lips brushed along your shoulder as she whispered teasingly, eyes glinting with amusement. lo’ak’s hands twitched, trapped behind the tree, but he could do nothing. and surprisingly, he loved it.

you could see lo’ak already struggling, and you hadn’t even started properly. the sight alone made your pulse quicken. his arousal was obvious, legs spread, every inch of him alert and exposed.

you turned tsireya toward yourself, pressing your lips to hers in a deep, hungry kiss. her hands found your arms, fingers curling as she met you without hesitation, lips parting. your hands wandered to her hips, sliding over the curve of her ass, fingers kneading and tugging lightly. she mewled softly into the kiss, tilting her hips toward you, offering herself without a word.

“look at him,” you whispered, voice low and teasing, brushing your fingers along her spine, trailing down to cup her ass again. “he’s already desperate, and we haven’t even started.”

tsireya gasped softly, as she pressed closer into you, tilting her head back so you could trace the line of her jaw with your lips.

you pulled her even closer, pressing your thigh deliberately between her legs, feeling the heat of her clothed cunt against you. the friction made her shiver against you, body arching instinctively as her hands gripped your shoulders, lips clashing with yours in a mess of tongues and soft gasps.

from the corner of your vision, lo’ak’s chest rose and fell faster, eyes dark and unblinking. every subtle movement, every soft sound from you and tsireya, drew his attention like a magnet. he shifted slightly against the ropes, thighs twitching, every part of him aware, desperate for more even as he was forced to watch.

tsireya’s hands roamed your back, tilting her head back just enough to give you access, mewling again as she pressed into you. the heat between your bodies pulsed, slow and deliberate, your thigh pressing deeper, fingers tugging and kneading, teasing her, making her squirm, every movement designed to make lo’ak ache silently.

you broke the kiss briefly, lips grazing her jawline as you whispered into her ear, “feel him watching… see how ready he is for us?”

tsireya shivered, glow brightening slightly along her skin, a soft moan slipping past her lips. she tilted her hips more firmly against your thigh, pressing closer, hips meeting your rhythm just enough to drive the tension higher – all while lo’ak’s gaze followed every inch, captivated, restrained, and utterly powerless.

you untied tsireya’s beaded loincloth, letting it fall away, leaving her bare. you pulled her down into a crouch, pressing her hips against your thigh. the warmth of her cunt met your skin, slick and wet. she hissed softly and shivered, quiet sound that made your pulse spike.

your hands found her hips, steadying her firmly. “already so sensitive, hm?” you hummed, observing tsireya’s face. tsireya tilted her head back, eyes half-lidded, lips parting as the friction pressed against her cunt. her legs quivered, small, involuntary movements as she pressed closer into your thigh, letting herself melt against your chest.

our fingers traveled to the base of tsireya’s tail, cupping it gently, letting her shiver and arch instinctively under your touch. her body was already burnt with heat, slick pooling between her thighs. you moved deliberately, slipping your hand down to her pussy, brushing along her wet folds before sliding all three fingers inside. slow at first, letting her adjust, letting her walls mould around you like they were made for your fingers.

tsireya hiccupped, snuggling her face into the crook of your neck, shivering, breath catching as she pressed closer. her hands drifted to your arms for balance. she lifted herself slightly, grinding slowly on your fingers, fucking herself against them. a broken moan escaped past her lips, body arching instinctively.

once she’d adjusted fully, you slipped in your thumb, letting your whole hand sink inside her cunt. she cried out at the stretch, hips pressing into you, tilting her pelvis to meet every inch. walls were clenching around your hand with greed. the warmth and wetness of her, the tightness pulsing against your fingers, made your own pulse spike. tsireya’s thighs quivered against your legs, wet heat sliding along your skin with every tilt of her hips. she moved deliberately at first, almost shyly. but as the sensation built, her movements grew bolder, grinding more insistently, tilting her pelvis to press harder against your knuckles, dragging guttural moans past her lips.

you hummed softly against her, lips brushing along tsireya’s neck. “just like that… fuck, yes,” you whispered, your hand steady as she fucked herself deeper on your palm, rocking and writhing, letting every inch of her cunt stretch and clench around you.

tiny shivers running down her spine as tsireya let herself fully sink into the pleasure, riding your hand like it was the only thing that could hold her. her head fell back slightly, lips parting, and her soft moans grew more insistent.

tsireya shifted, trying new angles. you let her take the lead, enjoying the way she met every push, every stroke, grinding her cunt over you with soft, breathy whines, shivering against your chest. and lo’ak, his eyes didn’t left you once. his lips parted slightly as he took you in, and you could swore he was drooling a little.

“look at you, taking it so well.” you leaned closer, lips brushing hers lightly between her movements, murmuring praise, whispering encouragement as she rode your fingers harder, small cries slipping past her lips. “that’s it. just like that, my love… yes…”

you felt tsireya’s pace quicken. her cunt clenched harder, and you could feel the wet slick dripping out of her already stuffed pussy. she really was enjoying herself, and fully displayed for lo’ak to see. but you had whole night ahead of yourself, so you needed her to last. you finally eased back, hand dropping out of tsireya’s pussy. tsireya hissed at the empty feeling. quickly pressing your lips to hers in a long, heated kiss, tongue sliding briefly against hers as you let her mind come back.

you encouraged her to stand up. and once she straightened, trembling slightly, you turned to lo’ak, whose eyes were wide, fully captivated by the display. approaching him, your hips swayed and tits jumped up a little with every step.

“want a taste?” you asked playfully. lo’ak swallowed hard, nodding eagerly. you pushed two fingers into his mouth, letting him suck them greedily, tongue swirling around them, tasting tsireya’s arousal. he trembled slightly under your gaze, completely exposed and aware of how much power the two of you had over him. the combination of sight, scent, and taste had him shivering, hips pressing subtly forward, restrained but desperate for more as he tried to press them to your body. you watched him, amused and hungry. tsireya leaned back into you, softly mewling, letting you feel the full pulse of her cunt as she took your hand and pressed it against her heat.

“this is so hot!” lo’ak said, grinning, eyes dark with lust. “can you untie me now?”

“no, prrnen,” tsireya whispered, voice low and teasing in his ear, “we’re just getting started.”

she reached for your loincloth, undoing it slowly, and then her fingers found your clit. tsireya started teasing you, gently rubbing it. you shivered.

“yawntutsyìp, i shall need a taste myself,” you murmured, teeth catching lightly on tsireya’s ear, voice rough.

you lay back onto the warm sand, tugging her over your head so her hips hovered above your face. the sight of her dripping folds, slick and glistening in the sunlight, made your mouth water.

“hello there…” you smirked, pulling her weight toward your face, letting her settle as you pressed your tongue to her cunt. first you licked slowly down her slit, tasting the swollen bead, teasing her with the flat of your tongue along her sensitive folds. then you pressed your lips to her entrance, sucking softly, sliding your tongue as deep as you could without force, letting her hips move instinctively, pressing more firmly into your mouth.

tsireya gasped, hands gripping your raised knees and digging lightly into plush of your legs. thighs quivering as she started to ride your face with small, controlled movements. her moans were low and breathy at first, then growing more urgent as your tongue explored her cunt, kissing the sensitive folds.

lo’ak cursed loudly, tugging at ropes with all his might. with no effect. “okay, you won. untie me, come on!” he wined, but you two ignored him. you cannot lean in, or he’s not gonna learn. he spilled the pxir, so now he’s got to drink it.

tsireya leaned back slightly, letting your tongue get deeper. her hands moved to your hair briefly, tugging lightly, guiding your mouth exactly where she wanted it. lo’ak and his complaints became just a noise in a background.

tsireya bowed down, head slipping between your thighs. her hips still moving instinctively as you licked her cunt meticulously. eywa, she tasted like heaven. sweet, and intoxicating. Like a literal kllpxiwll lo’ak brought from his last trip to the forest. and you were utterly pussy-drunk, unable to think of anything else but voraciously lapping at her folds, slurping every drop of her arousal with greedy, deliberate strokes of your tongue.

her hands drifted to your thighs, steadying herself for balance as her own hips pressed closer, grinding slowly against your hand. she gave your pussy a few kitten licks, soft and teasing, before her fingers sank into your starved, needy hole, slipping in with practiced ease. you gasped, hips lifting slightly, pressing instinctively into her touch.

“eywa, you feel so tight…” tsireya moaned, curling her fingers inside you as she pressed against your sweet spot.

and lo’ak? lo’ak did all he could – just watch. every movement between the two of you feeding his arousal, your every lick, every flex of hips, every slick pull of tsireya’s fingers. “fuck… you two…” he breathed, voice husky.

tsireya smiled, fingers knuckle deep into your pussy. tracing the curves of your walls as she fucked herself on your mouth. “what? want another taste?” she whispered, teasing.

you hummed against her cunt, tongue working greedily as you pulled away for just a second. “not yet… he can wait… right now, it’s just us,” you purred, pressing your lips deeper. you couldn’t resist tilting your head lower, pushing your tongue harder, deepening the strokes, letting your lips and tongue claim her cunt fully. all that while tsireya teased your needy pussy with fingers and occasional kitten licks, dragging soft, broken cries from both of you. the heat between the three of you was unbearable – tension, desire, and control all wrapped together in one erotic moment.

tsireya’s moans grew louder, hips bucking slightly, tail flicking in rhythm with her movements. “i- i can’t, you feel so good…” she gasped, hips pressing harder. “yes, right there!”

lo’ak had amazing view at your pussy, and being done with just watching, he decided to speak up. “look at your pussy, y/n,” he teased, almost playful. “all wet for us…”

you responded to his comment with a loud moan. his restrained body shifted slightly, thighs twitching, every glance drinking in the way you pressed against tsireya. he sighed, trying to calm down or else he’d cum right here on a spot. like a little virgin. untouched. and just by the sight of both you together.

you could feel tsireya getting closer, the clench of her cunt clear on your tongue. tsireya’s fingers pressed deep, grazing your cervix. the sensation made your muscles tighten, hips pressing instinctively into her touch. you lifted her slightly, letting her shift her weight more comfortably on your face..

“come for me, yawntu,” you ordered, tone husky. tsireya immediately quickened her pace, moans spilling freely from her lips. her hips bucked, body trembling. and then, with a shiver and a soft cry, she came. hard. tsireya’s knees bent slightly as she arched back, pussy clenching around your tongue and warm liquid spurting, slicking your hand and lips. you licked and sucked greedily, tasting every drop, while the sheer intensity of her release sent your own body over the edge. you came right after on her fingers, hips jerking slightly, walls clenching around her digits. her trembling hands and soft cries filled your senses, and even with the overwhelming pleasure, you stayed focused on her, lapping at her cunt with greed, wanting every last drop. sweet eywa, she squirted.

lo’ak watched, the sight of his two mates, entwined in pleasure, drove him wild. “fuck.”

after resting for a moment, tsireya rose to her feet and helped you up, her hands lingering briefly along your arms, glow flickering softly as she steadied you. together, you walked over to lo’ak. your hand immediately reached out, sliding along the curve of his abs, fingers tracing every line of muscle.

“you enjoyed this, don’t you?” you whispered into his ear. lo’ak gasped, nodding slightly, shivering under your touch, unable to resist. tsireya’s fingers flexed along his arms, tracing patterns that left goosebumps. at that, lo’ak’s breath hitched audibly, head tilting back as he watched both of you, restrained and utterly exposed, completely at your mercy.

tsireya stepped even closer, voice sultry. “look at you… helpless for us,” she whispered, brushing her fingers teasingly along his chest. lo’ak bit his lip and shivered, letting himself feel in both of your hands.

“i missed you, it’s normal” lo’ak whimpered pleadingly. “girls… please,” oh, he was desperate. your hand moved to his loincloth, tracing over the soaked material. the wet patch there was soaked through both layers, pressing against him so clearly. he moaned softly, pathetically, just enough to make your thighs press together instinctively, aching for friction. you smirked, "our pathetic little boy, we didn't even touch you and you already are so hard.” letting your fingers graze over his slit, feeling his knot swell beneath the fabric.

“see what happens when you let us play without paying attention?” tsireya murmured, lips brushing over his temple.

“yeah, such a needy sluts shouldn’t be left unattended.” lo’ak’s voice broke, as you kept rubbing his slit through tewng.

“lesson learned,” tsireya announced, full of malicious pride. well, you still got a lot to talk through, but this can wait. you looked at her with a mixed emotion. she never talked like this, almost dominant. but you you loved it.

tsireya took lo’ak’s knife from his pouch and carefully cut through his loincloth. the fabric fell to the ground, leaving him fully exposed. your hand slid back to his slit, now skin-to-skin. fingers tracing his knot and hole, teasing gently as you pressed in lightly. lo’ak gasped, hips pressing into your hand.

tsireya sank to her knees in front of him, hands sliding along his thighs as she leaned in. her lips brushed against his slit, before she sucked and pushed her tongue in a little. lo’ak’s cock started to slowly hardened and grew in size, causing it to come out of the slit. tsireya welcomed it, and took him into her mouth, lips and tongue wrapping around him. With every move, she started to take him in deeper with deliberate, steady motions.

lo’ak’s restrained hands twitched behind him, as he fought against ropes. breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he felt utterly exposed and helpless. your fingers continued to massage the base, pressing gently, teasing, while tsireya’s lips and tongue coaxed, stroked, and explored him with expert precision.

“oh… girls…” lo’ak whimpered, already lost in the sensation. his body shivered under your touch, hips pressing slightly forward, desperate for even more contact. “i beg.” lo’ak added.

tsireya’s eyes glimmered, glancing up at you briefly, smiling wickedly before taking his cock as much as she could, lips and tongue working in tandem with your hands.

“see how well she’s taking you?” you murmured, pressing your hand against his knot, feeling it pulse under your touch. it signalled you, that lo’ak was close. you slapped his cock, making him hiss. then your fingers slid into tsireya’s hair, tugging gently, letting her know you were watching her every movement.

lo’ak’s breath hitched, low groans slipping past his lips as tsireya’s lips traced over his shaft, soft nips teasing him mercilessly.

“now… since you missed us,” you whispered, leaning closer, “what do you want to do with us?”

“i- fuck…” he gasped, hips shifting slightly, eyes dark with need, voice rough with desire. “i’d tie you both up and rail you over… again and again.”

you smirked, letting the words sink in, kneeling beside tsireya. she drew back just enough to suck at the tip, earning soft whines from him. you leaned in to take the rest into your mouth, lips and tongue gliding along his length while your hand pressed and kneaded his knot at the base, feeling him pulse more and more. before you or tsireya could even react, and long before he had a chance to warn you, lo’ak spilled into tsireya’s mouth. he came with a loud, ragged moan, hips jerking as his knees gave away beneath his weight. tsireya’s lips worked instinctively, swallowing carefully, hands braced against his thighs as she hold herself up. your fingers pressed firmly against his knot, feeling the pulse of his release, while your lips lingered along his shaft, tasting him as best you could.

his chest heaved in a desperate need for fresh air, eyes half-lidded. “fuck… you two…” he moaned, utterly consumed by the pleasure. tsireya pulled him into a kiss, and lo’ak could taste himself on her tongue, the remnants of their shared heat lingering on her lips. her hands roamed briefly along his chest and shoulders before she pulled back, resting her forehead against his, breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

you stood, finally releasing his wrists from where they’d been restrained. when lo’ak and tsireya broke apart, he massaged his sore hands, flexing his fingers.

“that was… wow,” lo’ak said dreamy, causing tsireya to giggle softly. without hesitation, he pulled both of you close to his chest, letting himself soak in the warmth of your bodies. now all it mattered was this moment.

he then, whilst still having you in his embrace, pulled his kuru out, offering it to you. tsireya, ever quick, guided it to connect with yours and lo’ak’s, and the moment it did a shockwave of sensation rippled through you. so well known, but it still affected you the same everytime. your pupils widened. every nerve, every thought, every heartbeat screamed in unison. you could feel them, truly and completely, with all your heart, mind, and soul. and it mesmerised you every time. you felt as if whole world stopped for a second, and everything felt just right. safe, complete, and shared in a way only mates could understand.

after a quiet moment, lo’ak spoke up, voice low and genuine. “i’m sorry.”

“i shouldn’t have left you alone like that,” he added, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “i’ll work on it, i swear.”

“it’s okay, lo’lo,” you said, pulling back slightly to look at him, fingers brushing his cheek gently. “we’re not angry.”

“not anymore,” tsireya added with a soft chuckle, a mischievous glint still present in her eyes. “but we gotta get going, they’ll be looking for us eventually.”

lo’ak let out a short laugh, still holding both of you close. “if we have to, i’d rather not have someone looking at you,” he admitted, flexing slightly against the aftershocks still coursing through him.

all three of you began getting dressed, stretching limbs and adjusting your gear. the lingering tension of pleasure humming between you. lo’ak picked up his tewng, eyes widening in disbelief as he examined it. it was completely ruined.

“how am i gonna come back like this?” he asked, not knowing whether to be amused or exasperated. “i’m not going with my ass and dick out.”

you laughed softly, nudging him with your hip. “well, that’s what you get for ignoring us.”

tsireya smirked, shaking her head and slapped her hand against his butt in mock reprimand. “don’t worry, lo’lo… maybe we’ll fix it for you… later.”

“so how do i get back?” lo’ak whined desperately.

“swim,” you joked, causing lo’ak to groan he shoved his face into your shoulders briefly, and pulled back. he again started to take a close look at his loincloth, finally coming up with the idea to make it somewhat cover him.

now, everything’s gonna be okay..

[lover-from-the-past]

Lowkey obsessed with the avatar franchise again so like would anyone actually still read fics for that or

[sxftvanity]

. . . A COMEBACK SPECIAL

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!

drunk confessions prompts

Tired / Exhausted / Feeling Very Weak - Starters

love confessions

taking care of a tired lover

taking care of a lover’s injury

scenarios for that grump x sunshine dynamic

nightmare prompts

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 & 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄

&. 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

&. 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

[togethersleekparable]

[writonkatsu]

Even the Stars would Envy Your Embrace

Main Masterlist

Synopsis: The forest breathed in a language Tari no longer understood. Its roots whispered to the stars above, its leaves murmured to the wind, but none of it felt like it used to. Somewhere beyond the treeline, the waves rolled in, endless and unyielding. Tari stood between the two worlds, the eldest Sully, pulled by a home that didn’t feel like theirs anymore, and a sea that had yet to accept them.

Pairings: Tsireya x eldest Sully! Daughter; Sully family dynamics

Warnings: Slow burn. Fluff. Angst. Violence. Blood. Warnings will be added as the story progresses.

Status: Completed

Chapter 1 - Where the Forest Watches

Chapter 2 - Where the Silence Breaks

Chapter 3 - Where the Peace Falters

Chapter 4 - Where the Earth is Carried

Chapter 5 - Where the Current Shifts

Chapter 6 - Where the Tide Takes Us

Chapter 7 - Where the Lines Blur

Chapter 8 - Where the Paths Entwine

Chapter 9 - Where the Leaves Whisper

Chapter 10 - Where the Storm Crashes

Chapter 11 - Where the Blood Runs

Chapter 12 - Where the Oceans Consume

Chapter 13 - Where the Dark Recedes

Chapter 14 - Where the Light Lingers

Even the Ashes Remember Your Name - Pt. 2 of this series